On this particular Friday, she just wanted to get done with work and go home or possibly even go out. It had been ages, it seemed like, going out just didn’t happen anymore for Becky. It was a rarity. That was fine, though, Becky liked being busy with work, going home and taking a bath was all she wanted. Her apartment had a nice bath, she could listen to music, soak in the warm water and gaze out at the lake, and she thought it was quite beautiful at night when the starlight would reflect off the shimmering dark water. That would have to wait, though.
The UAN Test results were in. The test was designed to give a full evaluation of each student on campus. It was mostly mental and aimed to evaluate one’s ability in a diverse set of scenarios; looking for problem solving skills, the ability to strategize, understanding of Cloud architecture, and the test also took into account physical prowess. The Test aimed to give a tester an answer for what they should pursue after Academy. Becky was going through the results of people that scored the highest. The UAN always recruited the highest scores to work in the ‘back office’, so to speak, the people that helped the UAN function as an entity unto itself.
Becky had to comb through 70 different students’ scores. They were chosen from the 2,500 others that didn’t score well enough in critical thinking and problem solving. Becky was doing background checks on each person that popped up on her file of high scores. She had to check for other compatibilities. There needed to be no question of the person’s integrity and loyalty to the UAN. This wasn’t the easiest information to abstract. The computer system already narrowed it down based on several objective indicators, such as, do they have a history of making public statements against the UAN? Becky was told by Alceon to find somebody to join the team, so she was familiar with the parameters.
Becky remembered how Alceon told her early that day, “We need somebody that’s tough, they need to be mentally tough and, like always, we want somebody capable of thinking for himself. We’ll take another lady, Becky, but I think you could use a man. Between you, me and all the female assistants around here, I think it’s time for a nice young man. The most important attribute to look for, if they can pass the test of course, is going to be their genuine loyalty to the UAN. Then you should find a nice mix of brawn and creativity.” When Alceon finished her little pep talk about who to hire, she raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes, “Find somebody handsome.”
Becky laughed a little, and then smiled and said, “Okay.”
“Once you narrow them down to 5 or 6 I’d work on recruiting them. Call them and…” Alceon paused and then said, “We can go over that later, but the best thing I can tell you is look for people that want to work for the cause of the UAN. We are a part of something very special here. Worldwide usage is only going to increase if we manage this thing the right way. Before you know it, the UAN will have born and raised citizens.” Alceon’s eye sparkled. “The Cloud is destined for greatness, never has there been the capability to support so many people sustainably. Everybody is an energy producer, not drainer, and that’s whether they’re lazy or not. What we’re working on now will change the world forever.”
It sent chills down Becky’s spine, gave her goose flesh on the arm. She knew this was going to be a big deal, but listening to the way Alceon talked about it made it sound remarkable.
It was little moments like that that kept Becky enthused through the long working days.
She knew that Alceon said to look for a male, but Becky wanted to give a lady or two a shot as well, so as she was searching through the file she set a couple aside. It was funny to Becky, the way Alceon looked at her when she was talking about picking a guy. Becky thought about the last time she talked to a gentleman and realized it was probably that Parker guy she met on Whiskey Rock.
Becky hadn’t been in a serious relationship since secondary school and even the fond memories of her adolescent love, Michael, didn’t strike her as serious anymore. Her last time home, they didn’t even meet up. Becky wondered if he had found another girl. She spent that winter break with what felt like saying goodbye to her dad. He was still around, but it was unclear for how long. So she felt it was probably good she spent time with him instead of seeing what Michael was up to. It had been so long for her, she wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship again. She talked with Michael every now and then, but it was clear that they wouldn’t be getting back together. He was content living in Montana, working as a fly-fishing guide for a ranch resort. Becky grew up in Montana and understood the appeal of such a lifestyle, but she wanted something more out of her life. Michael was just a fond memory, someone she cherished, but didn’t see a future with. She wondered if she would make a good partner for the right man. She worked so much it didn’t seem she had the time for it.
She saw on her social news feed earlier that Parker was heading to Seattle. It reminded her of when she went to Seattle for a music festival. Becky reminisced fondly of her time at the Academy, she liked going there so much. A job with the UAN at North Mountain Research Institute seemed better than okay. Now she wondered if she was picking the next person she’d be working alongside for quite some time.
She knew it was an important decision, but taking care to look over each Cadet carefully was tiresome. She sat leaned back in her chair, scanning through information on two widescreens, in front of the monitors was a display for the physical file as well, this was a holographic image about the size of a classic plastic blonde doll. She would examine each person’s face on the screen and then look through their file. She often started, though, with a glance down at the three dimensional hologram that would twirl in front of her, the image being proportionately accurate to the physical attributes of the Cadet. If she didn’t select them for further review the image would simply disappear and the next Cadet would appear.
By the time she selected two females and three males she knew she was just about done. Nobody had impressed her lately. She knew that Alceon asked for a male as well so she started scrolling through the females quickly, not necessarily looking over their files with the same amount of diligence as the other women she already picked. She was just about ready to call it quits when she recognized the next body that popped up.
It was Cadet Parker J. Candlefish. Becky perked up. He looked good decked out in a UAN Officer Uniform. He was well proportioned for a taller person. She looked over his file, quickly scanning for negatives. She saw that he hadn’t attended all the UAN rallies. Not that big a deal, she supposed. She then quickly scanned his scores. She was impressed. He was in the top 1% for strategy analysis and execution. She remembered liking Parker, seemed like he was a thoughtful person. She liked the idea of working with him. She crossed her legs tightly and leaned forward to take a closer look at his desired career choices. It was left blank. Becky found that peculiar, but she did remember him saying he hadn’t a clue what he wanted. Honesty through and through, she thought, people usually put something in this box whether they want to do it or not. Parker was the first person that Becky came across who didn’t check something for desired career.
Becky thought he deserved a chance. His scores were some of the highest. Loyalty was a question mark, but no signs of disloyalty. She put Parker’s file in with the five other top Cadets. Her work was done for now. The recruiting and job offers would come later. A nice warm bath awaited her at home and that was all that mattered to her.
C H A P T E R 13
The Body-Rocket Racing Championships were held in late spring. It was a betting sport, people had their favorite racers to choose from, but the beauty of the sport seemed to be its unpredictability. It seemed anybody could win. Last to first could happen in one lap and it had happened before. Racers represented cities or regions across the world. Each racer wore a parachute, helmet and a special aerodynamic body suit. The parachute housing looked like a hard, thin backpack that was built into the suit. Each suit was designed to fly at speeds of 200 miles-per-hour-plus. The racers made three laps around a course. Courses
varied from desert canyons, forests, mountain terrain, urban centers, and everything in between. The course was open, free of specific lanes or a track. Racers chose their own route. They just had to fly through check-point rings that floated off the ground at various altitudes, sometimes way up high and other times just inches off the ground.
As if the race alone wasn’t enough, racers had to fight to stay on their jet-cycles. Racers attacked other racers. Some chose aggressive tactics while others chose sneaky, passive type attacks. So in essence, physically pushing other racers off their jet-cycle was part of it, different racers used different weapons. The weapon the racer was allowed had to be non-lethal and was used to knock other riders off their jet-cycle or disable the opposing rider’s engine. Non-lethal was a bit of a controversy, however, racers were killed from time to time and adjustments were made to the weapons they used. They could be anything from a sack of heat-seeking marbles that sought to destroy a set of mini-turbines that propelled the jet-cycle, or something simple like a bat. Racers used weapons like flying metal discs, cabled nets (which have caused the most falling deaths), strategically placed floating mines and the straight shot, that was a fun one; it was an archer type shot that tranquilized the engine with an electric systems attack. Body Rocket Racing was considered the most dangerous sport in the world, the racers themselves were idolized.
Each player rode their own customized jet-cycle. Some specialized in top-speed while others focused on maneuvering, and some mostly on looks. The jet-cycles were all considered to be pretty much equal though. When riding, the jet-cycle racers appeared to be standing, similar to a chariot racer leaning forward, hunched over an engine and holding handlebars. The body of the jet-cycle, where the racer’s chest leaned over, was about the size of a keg and had personalized grooves for the racer’s chest and abdomen if they chose to lean all the way forward. To the sides of the engine were lift thrusters, similar to a Harrier-Jet, which helped keep the jet-cycles in the air. The platform that the racers stood on also housed the main thruster which shot out behind the jet-cycle, spewing a hot white glow. It looked like they were racing flying jet-skis that each rider had to stand up on.
The guys enjoyed watching the lead up to the races. Traveling from Northern Idaho to Seattle was a pleasure in Dunc’s truck. Watching the race in the rig was better than the system they could have watched at home on and the seats were comfortable too. Dunc also provided refreshments and beer. He abstained from drinking, but enjoyed playing host.
The 2081 BRRL (Body Rocket Racing League) prelims were staged in Tahoe, another ski village lake town on the California-Nevada border. The course covered 10 miles of terrain with the finish line in the heart of Heavenly Mountain Resort. The prelims had 18 of the best racers in the world, each one earning a spot at the prelims over the course of the racing season. There would be three races, each with six riders. The winner of each race would move on to the Championship and the next three fastest times would qualify for the Championship.
The betting was similar to horse racing. A person could play the odds and take safer bets with less of a payout or go for riskier bets that paid out higher. A better could wager that the racer would take top three or top two, but the highest payout was to wager that the racer would take first place.
Before the race, each of the guys acted like they were seasoned gamblers with a lifelong addiction. Cad was quietly getting as much information as he could on his mobile device while swigging down beer like a parched sailor. He was sitting up near the galley, close to the fridge, looking down on Parker. Parker was sitting closest to the sonovision system, using the screen on the table to look up which racers he wanted to bet on. And Dunc was doing his research on his mobile device, quietly sitting in his captain’s chair that was turned to watch the races.
The truck cabin was silent besides the low mumble of the racing announcer’s voice or the occasional advertising slogan intertwined into the broadcast.
Parker broke the silence, “Who are you taking, Cad?”
“I’m going with the Egyptian guy, Amir Selctar. I’m taking him to win.”
“I’m going to pick him too, but just going for a place bet. I’m sure that guy can get at least third,” Dunc said.
“Seems like a good one, Dunc. How much are you going to bet that he takes it all, Cad?”
“100 hours,” Cad said. He couldn’t keep a straight face and started to grin.
The guys knew he was full of shit.
“What are you betting really?” Parker asked. “120 minutes.”
“Yeah that’s what I’m going to bet too. Pretty good pay off when you go for first place. I’m going to pick Oscar Vander though. The guy from Australia,” Parker said.
“I don’t think it’s smart to pick a defensive player like that,” Cad said.
“Well I guess we’ll just have to see then.”
Parker had a strategy he felt would eventually pay off. The Championship race always had at least one defensive rider for as long as Parker could remember. He looked into it and found that they almost always made it to the Championship by finishing first. Parker thought if there are three heats to determine the Championship race then placing a bet on a defensive player each time should pay off, over the course of three heats, since there were only four defensive racers in the entire field. His strategy meant the last heat with two defensive riders was going to be the trickiest for him to bet on, unless he won before that heat.
Dunc turned up the volume on the sonovision. It filled the truck cab. The races were about to begin. The celebratory fireworks went off at the starting line. The truck cab’s audio system made it feel like the fireworks were going off in the cab. The racers mounted their jet-cycles and began to fire up their engines. The turbo whines of each jet-cycle built up until each of the jet-cycles were hovering at the starting line. The constant sound of high RPM thrust was drowned out by the drop of the starting lights. The top yellow light flashed which signaled a loud ping. In rhythm the second and third yellow lights flashed. Ping. Ping. Then the green light lit and the jet-cycles took off.
Amir Selctar jumped into the lead. He was wearing green and black. “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” Cad said.
Oscar was at the back of the pack after several checkpoints. Parker got up to his feet. He was too stressed to watch. Parker walked back to the fridge and grabbed another beer. Opening it and taking a swig before closing the fridge.
“So are you ready to concede yet? Oscar was a bad pick,” Cad quipped.
“It’s still the first lap.” “It doesn’t look good.”
The race continued and Oscar kept falling behind. Amir had a steady lead. The one rider that did get close didn’t last long. Amir let it happen so he could pull a move. He shot up above the other rider and then dive bombed the racer off his jet-cycle. He pulled it off so easily it looked like he was showing off. Parker wasn’t standing still. He could hardly watch the race. He was pacing back and forth drinking.
“You should’ve known, Parker. What’s he supposed to do with that shield anyways?” Cad said.
“He’s supposed to be fast and not need it. Protect against an attack. I didn’t know the fucker just gave up if he didn’t get a good start. Fucking bullshit,” Parker said.
“I told you.”
“Shut up, the race isn’t over.”
“Oh, it’s over. Less than a lap to go and it doesn’t look like anybody is even challenging Amir again.”
The race continued. Amir took first place. There was a fight for second place, but Oscar was not a part of it. He just coasted in, posting a lousy time.
Cad and Dunc both celebrated. “I’ll drink for you, Dunc,” Cad said.
“I’ll take it,” Dunc said.
“People should get their time back if their racer gives up,” Parker said. He knew it didn’t work like that.
Cad continued to hassle Parker for not picking the same guy as him. When the second race rolled around it was more of the same. P
arker stuck to his plan and picked another defensive minded rider, and Cad picked the guy with the best odds to win it all. Dunc picked an obscure rider from Argentina to take third or better. He was good at playing it conservatively.
After Cad won the second bet he began to get a little rowdy. He was drunk and the mood enhancers were still doing their job so nobody was too upset with his behavior. At least Parker was trying not to be. He was annoyed with the way Cad was getting so pompous.
“It’s a pretty simple sport, Parker,” Cad said.
“You’re just getting lucky.”
“It’s not luck. Don’t you see how the odds work out? There’s too much money changing hands for some of these guys not to make it to the Championship. They have the best odds because so many people are betting on them, whether it’s for them or against them. So they need these guys in the race.”
“I think I see what you’re trying to say. It doesn’t really make sense though. People are going to bet on the Championship regardless of who’s in it,” Parker said.
“Well, who’s winning?” Cad said. Parker didn’t answer.
“I can’t hear you.” “Fuck off, Cad.”
“Ooh someone doesn’t like to lose. How about this, I’ll take you guys out to dinner with my winnings,” Cad said.
“If you’re offering,” Parker said.
For the third race they bet on, Parker thought he knew something, he felt for sure a defensive minded person would take first place and he had two to choose from. He was going to go with the sharp shooter, the sniper. He thought of them as aggressive defense. He chose Matilda Scott from Ukraine. She was on a roll, and proved to be an excellent shot, and quick on the jet-cycle. She was not the favorite in the race, but Parker had to stick to his strategy for it to pay off.
Dawn of Modern Man Page 10
