The Present

by Kenneth Thomas

  ‘Hey! Watch it’! VanWest forgets himself and responds indignantly. Reacting to what he perceives as extreme rudeness, unaware that this behaviour is considered quite acceptable in Jerseyan society - even a compliment.

  VanWest’s anger only serves to garner the attention of Method A’s guards, who point their long-sticked stun guns towards him.

  ‘Relax dawg! Come here and chill. Have drag on me’. Fortunately, Method A does not take issue, as LeSouris looks sheepishly at VanWest to accept her offer. Waving her guards away, she presents a pipe filled with a pinkish powder.

  ‘Excuse him, Method A. He meant no disrespect’, LeSouris apologises, nudging VanWest to take the pipe and have a puff.

  VanWest tentatively takes hold. Having never smoked before, he is unsure how to use it. The scent alone is enough to make him light-headed, his eyes widening, and his body feeling ever so relaxed. LeSouris quickly takes it back and returns it to Method A.

  ‘Method A, we come seeking transport to the colonies and would be grateful for your help’, LeSouris requests.

  However, Method A’s mood visibly changes as she casts her eyes over Iris again, this time more focused. Almost leaping from her sofa, she realises that these are not any normal ‘land-dwellers’, NEA rebels that LeSouris usually asks to help smuggle.

  She looks angrily at LeSouris and scolds him, ‘No play me, Sour! I know this dawg and chick. Them two on news wire all time. You know this brings heat on my casino’!

  Le Souris struggles to reply, stuttering, ‘Apol-apologies, Method A. We work many years together. I can pay. I have...’

  ‘We have come to do a deal’, Iris interjects in an authoritative tone, trying to take control of the negotiation and situation. Only angering Method A further.

  ‘Zip it! You cause me lot of problems coming here, better you stay in Queenie, be good thang’. Looking back at LeSouris, ‘Sour, this too big, there’s not enough moolah… Too much heat’! An increasingly vexed Method A takes off her sunglasses and throws them onto the black table, revealing her small green and scowling eyes, as her guards step forward with their Electrozappers.

  LeSouris signals to Iris to let him continue, discreetly patting her on the back, and removes a large pink gem from his pocket - a precious diamond. This moolah is worth at least 10,000 crates of Papini, far higher than the usual price to smuggle anyone to Mars. But, then again, these aren’t the usual stowaways - they are the instigators of the citizen’s uprising.

  VanWest recognises this gem. It looks remarkably like the one stolen from the Hubert collection, the Elite business family and owners of many brands such as Demron and InsectnOut. Indeed, he was there when it was taken during a failed NEA assassination attempt in his first tour as an Enforcer when he rescued their family head. A reminder that not so long ago LeSouris and him were on opposite sides - enemies.

  Rare gems, particularly pink diamonds, remain one of the most prized commodities throughout the last millennium, even after mining operations increased production across the solar system their value has not diminished. The Jerseyan warlords, at least Method A, seem to be as avid collectors of these decorative and rare gems as the Elites.

  Method A takes the diamond from his hand, ‘Sour, you put me in sticky situation, but I’m fair A. I tell you all options, best I do for old time sake, we play Red and Black. You lose I give Enforcer dawg to Council and keep that fine skinned thang’.

  ‘No way! Pay only, Method A’! LeSouris refuses to gamble their lives in a game of roulette.

  Method A continues, ‘You win they go. I only take your moolah for ship to Mars. Fair deal’. Method A’s big grin returning, she shows off all her pointy gold and silver teeth. It’s very much a win-win deal for her, as the saying goes ‘the house always wins’.

  ‘Rotten deal’! Iris shouts angrily and lurches belligerently at Method A to give her a punch. Still slightly spaced out, VanWest just about manages to pull her back before she can get close. Saving them all from getting struck by an Electrozapper. Iris adds, ‘Call me fine thang again, I’ll slit your throat, you low-life’!

  Method A laughs, ‘Me like lively ones’, amused by her reaction. But, in a more serious tone, she instructs LeSouris to take the gamble, ‘Best deal. Only deal’.

  Her sunglasses fall to the floor as the black table starts to rotate. Slowly transforming into a shiny golden wheel that spins hypnotically. Next, 30 numbers project upwards from its rim, the evens in black and the odds in red, a lone green for zero.

  ‘Sour, I give you red. I give fair odds… maybe you lucky, aye’, Method A passes to LeSouris a hologram ball to drop inside.

  Still holding Iris’s arm, VanWest looks around for an escape route, but every exit is guarded. Furthermore, neither he nor Iris are armed. LeSouris indeed has only one choice, either he plays this game or risks them all being zapped. The game is not quite as ‘fair’ as Method A presents, it is stacked in favour of the house and not 50-50. For if the ball lands on either black or the lone green they will lose.

  But VanWest’s walk through the casino pit has triggered an idea. Remembering how focused the gamblers were, he thinks that the roulette game and its bouncing ball could provide a useful distraction; enough time for him to make a run at Method A and to catch her in a headlock before her guards can react. The threat of him snapping her neck could, in turn, give them much more favourable odds of getting them all out and to Mars.

  With time not on their side, VanWest releases Iris’s arm with a wink, to signal a plan is afoot and pushes a nervous-looking LeSouris forward to take the gamble. At the same time, discreetly stepping behind him and one step closer to Method A. LeSouris shakes his head but submits and drops the hologram ball into the roulette wheel, allowing VanWest to take another small step forward.

  The game commences as the ball hits the rim and bounces into the centre, bouncing several times more across, from black to red and back again, as the wheel starts to slow. Disguised as that of interest in the game, VanWest shifts forward once more. Method A and her guards are indeed too distracted to notice, too eager to find out the result.

  The ball jumps up one last time, skipping just past a black slot as it comes to a stop on number 15, red. But VanWest does not wait to see if Method A will hold true to her word and leaps at her before the guards can react. In a split-second places her flabby neck inside a headlock as they crash down onto the floor. Her guards surround them, unsure how to react - if they shoot they risk hitting her.

  Method A though is strangely relaxed, quite amused and still grinning. She mouths the words, ‘Thought you chill dawg, look you won... Keep fine skinned thang, aye’!

  As she speaks, a vision flashes across VanWest’s mind, that of Space Soldiers racing into the casino pit. Knowing the PATH agreement, VanWest is shocked to foresee this grave violation! Such is their desire to stop him that the Universal Council is willing to bring the chaos in Antarctica to New Jersey. Loosening his grip, VanWest pulls Method A back to her feet as she signals for her guards to stand down.

  VanWest looks straight into her small, green eyes and in a low voice shares his ominous warning, ‘Method A, there… Space Soldiers come’.

  Method A’s grin instantly evaporates, she knows he is serious as she looks over at her Jerseyan guards, their Electrozappers point now over at the red carpet and entrance to Gambler’s Den. The ground slightly vibrates.

  VanWest leans over, whispering in her ear, ‘Doctor King and the Space Army is amassing over Mars. These Soldiers are just the first, more will come. New Jersey will share the same fate as Antarctica. Remember that’. A not so subtle urging for her to join them in Earth’s resistance.

  Staying true to her deal, a visibly shocked Method A instructs, ‘Land dwellers, I have moolah… Get out, take path behind that room over there. My dawg Gs will help ye’!

  Seeing the players, croupiers and servers starting to flee the casino pit, a bemused LeSouris asks, ‘What’s happening’?

  ‘Run’! Method A s
houts.

  ‘Roaching run’! VanWest repeats before turning and running down the stairs, the ground vibrates more and the lights flicker, just like on Ward B when the Colonel arrived - a spaceship is close, and Space Soldiers are marching. Iris and LeSouris look at each other and quickly follow. The vibrations only intensifying; it’s as if the place is being struck by an earthquake. The slot machines, roulette and blackjack tables come crashing down, as more of Method A’s guards race in to take up positions by the entrance.

  As they reach a small room, VanWest glances back at the casino pit - catching a glimpse of the near cyclops-eyed Commissioner Ming, in his black peaked cap, walking through the golden arched entrance. As foreseen, he’s accompanied by several Space Soldiers, an egregious violation of the PATH agreement.

  Chapter 2 A Crate Full of Papini

  LeSouris knows the way from here and reveals a well-hidden escape route as he lifts up a loose brick, causing a section of the wall to jut forward and slide open. In front lies a narrow, darkly lit tunnel, the opening even lower than that on the way to Gambler’s Den. LeSouris enters first, crawling on all fours. Iris and VanWest follow - the wall shifting back into place after they pass. The mustardy smell grows ranker; they must be getting closer to the Papini crop and to the subway tunnels.

  The ground continues to shake, causing the metal beams above to vibrate and dust to cover them. With Commissioner Ming and the Space Soldiers entering the casino, they move as fast as possible to get away and soon reach what appears to be a ventilation shaft: its metal rusty and badly corroded. A dim light reveals another larger tunnel below; the floor lined with wooden sleepers connected by iron. Without pausing, LeSouris slides down. Iris does her best to follow but lands awkwardly - fortunate to only receive a small cut on her knee as she stumbles forward.

  VanWest follows behind, landing beside he helps her up and to wipe away the dust. Giving her a gentle and reassuring kiss on her head as he does so. These are rail tracks; its good condition indicating that they are still in use. The age of the tunnels gives VanWest the uneasy feeling that he has travelled back in time once again but quickly realises that they have arrived inside New Jersey’s subway system: the PATH network that connects New Jersey to New York. More than a thousand years old, it was originally built when these states were part of the now-dissolved union called the United States of America.

  As the Earth’s surface became hotter and less habitable, its overground sections were covered by a thick reinforced concrete roof, subsequently buried under tons of sand and rubble. Protected from the radioactive and toxic air, it evolved from a subway network into a dwelling and then settlement in its own right. The mole people its earliest inhabitants, many escaping the pressures of society, such as paying taxes and rent. It soon attracted those from all walks of life, who came to make this their home, from as far away as Canada and Mexico. These the few that refused to migrate to the cooler Antarctic region, ruled by the oligarchs, later to become known as the Elites.

  VanWest marvels as he looks up at the sloped walls and concave ceiling, it is filled with thousands upon thousands of small mushrooms, Papini. The source of the mustardy smell, they are white in colour and take various shapes, sprouting out of cracks between the bricks. Ultra-violet light bulbs that dangle every dozen yards serve as their only source of light. It’s incredible how many mushrooms grow here, the crop spreading for miles and miles along the tracks.

  Hush! Suddenly, two large creatures with twelve eyes and eight legs scurry out to greet them. Curling over their back is an intimidating segmented tail, which curves over and points forward towards them, at its end a stinger. If not threatening enough, each carries enormous claws on their front pair of legs, a single pinch of which would surely snap them in half. VanWest gasps, having dealt with gigantic spiders and wild roaches before, he instinctively grabs a large fallen brick from the floor, ready to fight them off. But to his astonishment, LeSouris laughs and walks over to the creatures. One is slightly larger than the other. It carries on its back several mini versions of itself - its babies.

  LeSouris gives each a pat and says, ‘My friends, let me introduce Ken and Barbie! Are they not the cutest daddy, mommy you have ever seen’? And gives them another stroke on their horned heads.

  Iris seems to know what they are and says, ‘King scorpions’?

  LeSouris answers, ‘Yes! They’re good companions, ever so cuddly, these two my personal favourites. Yes you are, yes you are’. He speaks to them as if they were his pets.

  King scorpions are one of the few creatures able to survive radiation poisoning, living cordially alongside the Jerseyans, they protect the Papini crop and rail tracks. Screech! A large metal container comes rolling towards them. Breaking heavily, it grinds to a halt only a few steps away.

  LeSouris gives them a reassuring wink and taps its side, instructing, ‘My friends, transport… trust’! Iris looks at VanWest, signalling for him to get in. They need to get going, the ground even this far below the surface is vibrating.

  Once inside, the cart automatically rolls forward for a few meters before accelerating rapidly. Before they know it, VanWest and Iris find themselves climbing up towards an illuminated red sign, its letters reading WARNING STEEP DESCENT. The tracks look to be coming to an end!

  Seeing LeSouris bracing himself by holding onto the side and bowing his head, Iris and VanWest promptly do the same. The cart quickly passing by the sign, they are sent in a near-vertical freefall - whoosh, neither Iris nor VanWest sure what is happening and where they’re heading. The cart sways from side to side but somehow sticks to the tracks; fortunately, it soon begins to level once again. However, this white-knuckle ride is not quite over, about 100 yards ahead is a long line of mining carts. Going so fast, it looks like they are going to collide. Sparks fly all around as LeSouris brakes heavily - screech, forcefully pulling a lever backwards. VanWest checks if Iris is ok, her eyes remaining shut, she can’t bear to look as she continues to hold on tightly.

  To his relief the cart finally slows down, coming to a thudding stop, a small shunt connects it to the cart in front, throwing them slightly forwards - clink. LeSouris looks unfazed, seemingly quite accustomed to this method of transport - he must have done this ride a few times before.

  LeSouris points further down the tunnel, instructing them to get out and continue on foot, ‘This way’!

  Helping each other out of the cart, they hurry through the dim light until LeSouris finally stops. There’s an unmarked door, so hard to spot it blends in with the Papini and bricks. As LeSouris pushes it open, a waft of hot steam blows into their faces, so thick it partially obscures what appears to be a very long and slender object inside, on closer inspection a Jerseyan cargo ship. It stands tall in the middle of a silo with a high-pitched ceiling, not too dissimilar in size to the hangar VanWest saw in Homestead Airport, in 1998 Florida.

  Following LeSouris and Iris inside, VanWest is startled to find a small Jerseyan in a black helmet and visor staring up at them, ‘Hey’!

  The Jerseyan greets LeSouris, ‘Hey, Mister Sour! Brought me some land peeps’?

  ‘Oh yes, good to see you, Gs. Been a long time, my friend’! LeSouris answers with a smile, the two having met on previous smuggling operations.

  ‘Get your bruva and sista in cargo hold, inside blue crate… Papini. Gotta be quick and quiet’, Gs instructs.

  ‘What? Till Mars’? Iris interrupts, looking unimpressed.

  ‘Is it safe’? VanWest asks more pertinently.

  ‘This is how one smuggles’! LeSouris replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘Can we trust him’? VanWest looks pointedly at LeSouris, this time asking more directly. Worried that Gs could sell them out, much as Method A threatened to do so earlier.

  LeSouris shrugs his shoulders again as if to say that it’s not like they have a choice, ‘My friend, Method A let us “land dwellers” go, so I say trust… She is woman of her word, her Jerseyans are loyal. I travelled in crates b
efore, it works… A tried and tested method’.

  Gs interjects, looking at each in turn, ‘Sour, bruva, sista, you can trust me. I always fulfil deals, especially for my boss, Method A’! Not yet quite realising who he has been asked to smuggle.

  With the Commissioner’s arrival, there only hope lies with a quick escape on Gs’s cargo ship, there is no time to discuss further. They need to go! VanWest nods and double-checks the coordinates of this Universal Council base on Mars, activating Colonel Cornelius’s red diamond chip into his node. The base is located in Arcadia MC-03, close to a volcano in Alba Mons. There he expects to find not only Dr King but also his Head of Science, Dr Minus Schuurman. The dying Colonel Cornelius giving him the troubling warning to ‘beware’ of himself. It pains him to think what ‘evil’ he will encounter - that he has yet to realise.

  He leans down, asking Gs, ‘Can you get us to MC-03, Arcadia’?

  Gs rolls his small green eyes, protesting, ‘Cargo ship destined for different zone. Looksie suspicious if go there. No good’!

  Knowing the importance of getting there, LeSouris unfolds his Moggleapp tablet, ‘I see small colony and trading post nearby… Arcadia Plains. Gs, my friend, you know of this place’?

  Gs sighs and rechecks his schedule, before replying, ‘You mess up my plans’.

  ‘My friend, small detour, no’?

  ‘Tell me, why there’? Gs asks curiously.

  VanWest doesn’t want to reveal the real reason and thus opts to tell him a lie, ‘Oh… Got to escape the chaos in Antarctica, need a hideout… this place is rarely visited’.

  At that moment Gs realises who he is, gulping, ‘Ah, you that Captain dawg’!

  Understanding their urgency to get as far away as possible, he agrees, ‘I get you to Arcadia Plains. I make an order for my contact there, Sista Cees’.

  ‘Thanks’, Iris replies.