by Jacob Whaler
“Make sure the motor-tones are on silent mode.” Jedd says.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Qaara winks.
“Just keep an eye out for each other. No jerky moves, and keep your distance.” Jedd touches the ignition switch and feels an instantaneous power surge bring the gyropod to life. “Running these big machines on silent mode is illegal and dangerous. But I want to attract as little attention as possible.”
The three of them take off, heading for the thin daylight where the mouth of the parking garage yawns open. Pulse shots pepper the floor and walls around them.
Definitely feels like a trap, Jedd thinks.
26
HOMO AUDIRE
Not here. Not now.
Mercer brings the jax closer to his mouth. “You heard me. Let them go.”
“Are you sure, sir?” The female voice is breathing hard. “As per our plan, we pushed them to this point, under the building. Best place to complete the job. We could drop them right here, clean up and dispose of the bodies before the sun is up.”
“Give them a good scare, but let them go. No pursuit necessary. My plans have changed.”
“As you wish, sir. It’s a pity.” The voice, tinged with disappointment, fades into the sound of shots from a pulse rifle.
Mercer stares at the holo of the three gyropods speeding down 5th Avenue in the early dawn, heading for the main exit to the west, away from the City, away from the Fringe, straight into the Zone.
“I thought you wanted to kill them.” The woman in black leather sits in the dark, behind Mercer. “At least the two men."
“I did and still do. But I always reserve the right to change my mind. Qaara’s two companions will be dispatched when the time is right.”
“Why not now?” The woman takes a drink. “Don’t you think it's dangerous to let Qaara run free?”
Mercer stands up and stretches, not used to having to explain himself to anyone. “As I was watching, I came to a sudden realization. Now is not the time nor the place. The sun is almost up. I’d rather not have a mess to clean up in broad daylight. We are at a delicate stage and must avoid anything that could put Project LUCA in jeopardy. Besides, it may yet be possible to change Qaara’s mind. Let her spend a couple of days in the Zone and see what that does to her. I think she’ll come around.”
“Only four days until Earth says hello to the Cloud. What about your flight to the bunkers in Japan? Still leaving today?” The woman stands. "And what about the select group of people on your list. The ones you’ve promised to save?”
Mercer waves his hand. “Why so many questions? Are you scared? You’re on the list. For now.”
“So many moving parts to this puzzle.” The woman’s hands go behind her back. “Chaos frightens me.”
“The chaos will only grow, until the Cloud comes. And then everything will come together. All complexity will cease.” Mercer brings a lemon to his lips and sinks his teeth into its yellow flesh. “But there is one thing we cannot allow. That outburst of Qaara at the Wall. Make sure it never reaches the Mesh.”
“I’ve already intercepted the video feed and killed it.”
“I expect no less.” Mercer stares at a new image on the holo, a narrow road lined with trees on either side that fly by like a neat picket fence. “How long will it take for them to cross into the Zone? I know so little about it.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t try to melt away into the Fringe. It’s much closer and safer there.” The woman takes a step forward, moving into Mercer’s peripheral vision. “Assuming no mishaps along the way, they should get to the Divide in another twelve hours. If they manage to pass through it, they’ll be in the Zone.”
“The Divide.” Mercer nods. “Is it true what they say? My father always kept me ignorant of the details, and the Mesh is conspicuously devoid of information."
The woman joins Mercer, shoulder to shoulder. “Depends on what you’ve heard. It’s a long story, but the bottom line is clear enough. When the rains stopped and famines overran the world, the federal government made a decision to abandon the interior of the continent. With all the loose guns and ammo floating around, it turned into a bloodbath overnight. People wanted to leave, and the easiest way out was east, to the coast. The government needed a way to contain the refugee crisis and protect itself.”
“And the Divide was the solution?”
“Exactly.” The woman puts her glass on a table near the sofa. “After taking out the roads and bridges, the government laid down a carpet of small tactical nuclear warheads. Little black balls no bigger than your fist that burrowed into the ground. It only took a week to create the Divide and stop mass migrations to the east. That’s how we got the Zone. An utter wasteland. The Divide is still there. Most of the nukes are still live.”
“How far will they get on the g-pods?” Mercer chews on the lemon rind. “There aren’t any charging stations in the Zone.”
“They’re equipped with energy extraction tech. The pods will charge themselves, at a slower rate. Theoretically, they could make it all the way to Denver or even California. But not likely. Tech like that will attract a lot of attention. The Zone is crawling with roving gangs of thugs and killers. That’s just the way life is in the Zone. For them, the Apocalypse has already come. Only the most violent and corrupt survive.”
“Or the lucky.” Mercer pulls a jax from his pocket. “And this Jedd fellow appears to have luck on his side, from what I saw."
“It will take more than luck to make it through the Zone.”
Mercer brushes one end of his jax with a cold finger. “Keep an eye on them.”
“I’ll do my best. The gyropods are covered with multiple tracking devices.” She takes a sidestep, brushing Mercer’s shoulder. “Have you seen the latest on the Cloud?”
“What’s going on?” Taking a deep inhale, Mercer is overpowered by the stench of expensive inhalants. He makes a circular walk around the holo playing in the middle of the room.
“World opinion is divided.” The woman remains standing, hands behind her back, the holo lighting up the chiseled features of her face. “The consensus in the scientific community and most of the world is that it’s a harmless dust formation, nothing to be concerned about. Most of the talk is focused on the best locations around the planet to see the light show in four days when any residual debris gets vaporized in Earth’s atmosphere."
“And what about the rest of the world?”
“On the other side, you have a small minority. The usual suspects. Religious fanatics. Theists. Residual Christians and Muslims. Shinto devotees. End-of-the-world preppers.” The woman pushes a blue pill between her lips and swallows. "They are convinced the time of punishment has come.”
“What kind of punishment?”
“The only kind that matters. Punishment from God.” Her eyes drop down in a slow blink as the Ice hits her bloodstream and lights her nerves on fire. “It's the usual drivel. Humankind has raped the Earth, made it into a dung heap. The time for vengeance is here. The Cloud represents the wrath of whatever higher power you happen to believe in. Like you once said, the finger of God. Nature is done with us. It’s going to wipe the slate clean."
Mercer circles the holo machine. “Not far from the mark.”
“But the religious are only a small minority. They can march in the streets and rant on the Mesh to their heart’s content. Nobody listens. As long as the people get their daily hit of Thrill or any other bio-narc, nobody cares."
“Any other news?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” The woman’s eyelids flutter like the wings of an exotic butterfly. “The breach in the Wall seems to have caught a bit of attention this morning. It’s the first flooding in the streets of the City in years. Since the Wall went up. But not to worry. Repairs should only take a few hours. The only real damage is to the stock price of the Genesis subsidiary that produces Graff.”
“Has the incident been tied to Qaara?”
“Based o
n Mesh traffic, there were some alleged sightings of her walking the streets near the Wall just before the hole opened up, but no one really believes it. After all, what would Qaara Kapoor be doing alone in the City in the early hours of the morning?”
“My sentiments exactly.” Mercer walks to a chair and drops down. “Deploy your army of Mesh-jackers to tamp down the rumors. I want the world to think Qaara Kapoor is right where she belongs. In her lab at Genesis.”
“Will do.” The woman’s eyes narrow by millimeters. “Anything else?"
“Send the list to my holo.” Mercer reaches for a drink. Its cool wetness flows down his throat, extending its tendrils throughout his chest. “I need time to relax and make the final selections.”
The woman turns to leave. And then stops.
“Have you heard the latest from Fukushima?”
Mercer closes his eyes at the sound of her voice. “It’s of no concern to me.”
“I thought you might be interested since it’s happening so close to your facility there.”
“Go on.”
“The government decided today to close all the so-called Institutions for the rehabilitation of schizophrenic children, the ones born to the squatters that moved into the Death Grid after the Great Riots in Tokyo. It’s been decided that the children are beyond rehabilitation. They've been officially declared nonhuman. Of no more concern that wild cats.”
“And why is this of concern to me?”
The woman takes in a short breath. “It’s the end of an experiment. Nobody knows exactly how many there are, but herds of recently abandoned schizophrenic children may soon be wandering close to your bunkers in Fukushima, dying of starvation, begging to get in."
“I still fail to see the significance.” Mercer takes another sip, imagining the tiny molecules in the blue liquid floating to his brain, about to open up the floodgates of inspiration. “The whole of Fukushima Prefecture is mine to do with as I please. Security forces are in place at the facilities. No one gets in who’s not on my list. Anyone on the outside who’s a danger to the facility will be shot on my orders. Schizophrenic or not."
“Isn’t that murder?”
“The world is ending.” Mercer closes his eyes as the little blue molecules do their work. “I write the rules.”
“There are rumors about the children in Fukushima.”
“I’m getting tired of this conversation.”
“We have a team tracking developments in Fukushima. The Institutions were run like prisons. Our Mesh-jackers have been monitoring their files. They say the children are different. Unique.”
“I’ve see the reports.” Mercer relaxes into a lazy river of thought. “A constant state of hallucination. Hearing voices. Unable to function. Little more than animals.”
“It appears the decision to close the Institutions was not unanimous.” The woman shuffles along the floor, turning to leave. “Some of the researchers classified the children as a new species. The next step in human evolution. Sounds like it’s right up your alley. You might want to check into it.”
Mercer stiffens. “The next step in human evolution is me. Now leave.”
The woman walks through the door and then pauses. “They even have a name for them. Homo audire. Listening Human.”
27
WRONG COLOR
Luca stands in front of the open gate.
After an all-night rain, the ground is moist. Green leaves glisten in the thin mist that gives way to the morning sun. A two-track road overgrown with weeds runs straight for a kilometer and then bends to the right. Rolling hills rise in the distance.
The smell of seawater floats over the cracked concrete walls of the Institution. The door leading to the cells hangs ajar, darkness covering the place where many of the girls have spent years of their lives.
Behind Luca stands Zero, shouldering a heavy pack bulging with the camping equipment and the last of the food. He holds an old Geiger counter in his hand. She hears a single tone of fear in his mind. At the back of the group of fifteen girls, Giraffe is waiting with a smaller pack and the same fear.
Between the two men stand the girls, each carrying a small pack of clothing. Their bellies are full of the last meal they will ever eat at the Institution. Stuffed animals peek out from pockets and flaps, contraband recently freed from the stash found behind the broken refrigerator in the Institution’s kitchen.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Zero says.
Luca listens.
Sorting through an ocean of sound and layers of voices, she closes her eyes and reaches upward through the mist, through the clouds, past the heli-ship with its two bickering pilots and cargo of Ice heading to a place called Maui. She reaches past all of it to the stars, searching for the Voice.
It’s closer now. Larger and louder than before.
She tries to make contact, but the Voice is busy, its attention wholly focused on its own search.
What are you looking for?
Luca squeezes her eyes, channeling and focusing the words like a laser beam, pouring her strength into the effort.
What if you don’t find it?
For an instant, the Voice stops its movement, as though lingering over some choice, but then sweeps over and past her. In its wake, Luca senses agitation in the Voice’s movement.
Let me help you.
There is no answer. When she opens her eyes, she discovers herself in a sitting position, hands folded in her lap.
The morning mist and clouds are gone, revealing a clear sky. The sun is hot on her forehead.
She stands. The entire group stands with her.
“Let’s go.” Luca takes a step. Gravel crunches under her feet.
As she passes through the gate, she tries to recall images from the day her mother brought her to the Institution, but the memories are difficult to recall. They appear in disconnected chunks. There’s a hazy picture of her mother’s eyes, red and swollen from crying. A nurse with a smiling face restrains Luca while her mother pulls away, turns and leaves the room.
Luca still remembers her mother’s bowed back. The constant coughing. Her shaking hands.
“Where are we going?” Zero asks, interrupting Luca’s reverie.
Taking the first step that will place her outside the Institution’s grounds, Luca pauses. For as long as she can remember, she has dreamed of this moment. The moment of entering the outside world.
With only enough food for a few days, they need to find people with resources to share. Luca listens carefully, scanning within a full circle around her. The voices are most numerous in the direction that leads straight out the front gate.
“There,” she says, pointing beyond the rolling hills. “Over there.”
She motions for the group to follow her.
For the first few hundred meters, she strides down the middle of the two-track road, bending to run her fingertips along the tops of the tall weeds that brush against her legs. Each stem is a strand of music in the symphony playing in her head. A flock of small birds floats above. She smiles at them as they circle and then move on.
A squirrel rushes to her through the grass. She drops a hand and allows it to sniff her fingers. Its voice is a delicate river of sound.
As the road bends to the right, a sharp pain pierces her skull, dropping her to her knees. Other girls in the group react in the same way.
Luca closes her eyes. In the darkness behind her lids, she sees a field of colors. Off to the right, in the direction the road leads, the colors fade into a fuzzy black. As she turns to the left, the colors are lighter, mostly greens and yellows. The pain falls away.
When she opens her eyes, Zero is staring down at her. He gently pulls her to her feet.
“Are you OK?” he says.
Luca nods, turns and takes another step down the road. The pain returns. Stopping, she closes her eyes and sees a wall of black directly in front. Turning her body and moving slowly to face the opposite direction, the warm colors pull her away from the two-tra
ck.
She takes a step off the road. “We have to go this way.”
“Why?” Zero says. “It’s better to stay on the road. There's no telling what we might run into out there. Toxic waste spills. Radiation dumps. The road should be safe.” A slight grimace stretches across his lips.
“I don’t know.” Luca points down the road. “There's something wrong over there. It’s all the wrong color.”
“Color?”
Luca senses a hint of anger rising in Zero’s mind. He tries to push it back, but she can tell it’s growing stronger, pushing into his thoughts. She watches as he takes a few more steps down the road.
The Geiger counter in his hand begins to sing. Another step and the sound grows louder, more persistent.
Zero jumps back to Luca’s side. The anger in his mind is instantly gone. His lips smooth into a smile.
“I’ll follow you,” he says.
Luca turns and steps off the road, moving across the grass and weeds in the direction of the rolling hills.
And the voices.
28
THE DIVIDE
Welcome to the Divide.
A massive sign lies on the ground just to the side of the road, its supporting beams sawed off at waist height, shot through with rusty holes.
Jedd eases his cycle to a stop and glances down at the faded image of a red skull and crossbones above the words: Warning! No Trespassing! Minefield! Seeded with Tactical Nuclear Weapons! Do Not Attempt Crossing!
Nausea rises in his belly. It’s been ten years since he stood at this exact spot. Back then, the sign was still standing.
The landscape ahead of them is potholed and broken, like a massive digging project in the deserts of Egypt. Ten kilometers away, a low ridge of razorback mountains cuts through the ground like the petrified spine of an ancient subterranean lizard. A hundred meters ahead, the pavement is swallowed by a blanket of dirt.
Qaara and Ricky pull up on their gyropods on either side of Jedd, as silent as a light breeze on a summer evening.
“Never thought I’d see this again.” Ricky shakes his head. “Never thought I’d be trying to cross it to get back into the Zone.”
