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Post by texican on May 3, 2020 19:57:39 GMT -6
Mic, The crowd now includes two young guys, one old guy and two young gals. This should be a party to make it out of the city. Now, just what could happen? Thanks for the chapter. Be careful crawling under the truck to use the laptop, but the moar hounds do appreciate the effort. Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on May 3, 2020 21:16:25 GMT -6
Mic- we're just happy to read whatever you find the time to post. We also know that you benefit from keepin' your darlin' bride happy, too. I trust you can balance writin', home chores and bringin' home the bacon. Many thanks for what you've given us already.
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Post by 9idrr on Jul 24, 2020 21:08:16 GMT -6
Not whinin', not complainin', just hopin' for another chapter, or two... or three...
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Post by NCWEBNUT on Jul 25, 2020 4:40:39 GMT -6
I was just wondering about this story yesterday and if ford was going to make it out of the city
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Post by papaof2 on Jul 25, 2020 6:06:31 GMT -6
You folks didn't get the email? Ford has changed his name to Pontiac and silently disappeared ;-)
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Post by sniper69 on Jul 25, 2020 6:59:17 GMT -6
I saw this at the top this morning and got excited. Just to not see a new chapter. I'll continue to be patient - but looking forward to reading more of this great story. I hope all is well with you.
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Post by texican on Jul 25, 2020 14:58:23 GMT -6
Mic,
It has been two months and we still do not know what happened to Ford and company.
Hope you have been doing ok.
Texican....
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Post by texican on Aug 8, 2020 18:03:03 GMT -6
mic,
Please drop us a post so we know that you are doing ok.
Texican....
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Post by sniper69 on Sept 15, 2020 7:58:27 GMT -6
Mic - hope all is going well with you.
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Post by texican on Sept 16, 2020 13:12:30 GMT -6
Mic - hope all is going well with you. Mic, like wise. Please drop us a line. Texican....
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Post by sniper69 on Jan 1, 2021 22:54:55 GMT -6
Mic - Happy New Year! How is everything going for you?
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Post by mic on Jan 19, 2021 17:36:03 GMT -6
Hi PAW Fiction readers,
I'm sorry about my falling off the edge of the earth. It's surprising how busy work-from-home can be -- in addition to all the stuff I could do since I was home, like gardening. Not to get too deep in the weeds, but the company I work for was bought by a larger firm and the downtown office liquidated. That was a chore. 14 years of accumulated crud to wade through.
But, on a less absorbed-by-the-Borg note, I did find intervals of time to finish the Ford story. I will be posting pieces of the remaining chapters of the next several days. As always, I look forward to your comments and feedback.
Okay, enough blather. On with the story.
--- Mic
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Post by mic on Jan 19, 2021 17:48:13 GMT -6
--- When last we saw our characters, Ford and Bozeman had entered The City and found Ada. They also found Dena and James. The five of them were trying to sneak out of The City. As chapter 19 ended, they had stopped what turned out to be an autonomous laundry truck and were hitching a ride inside. ---
Chapter 20 – Rebuttal (part 1)
“Why do we have to go up to the walkway level at all?” Ford asked. “We're better off down on the surface roads: far fewer cameras. I thought we should wait beside one of the artery roads leading back north and grab an empty concrete carrier. We know they’ll be…”
“No,” insisted Bozeman. “We have to go up to the walkways first. It’s…the maps. The maps say so.” He tapped his finger on the earpiece of his visor. “And…we have to break the pattern. Some walkways, some surface roads, some walkways…”
“Why risk the cameras?” asked Ford. “You just said yourself that…”
“We can get from the cleansing plant to the walkways pretty easily,” interjected James.
“What?” Ford’s train of thought was broken.
“I’ve done it before, several times,” said James. “You let the truck dump you into the hopper of dirty clothes…”
“Dumped? These things get dumped?” Ford held his luminar higher. The roof and door jambs were angled like a wide, square funnel.
Laundry trucks get tipped over just like the concrete trucks do.
“Yeah,” continued James. “It’s kinda fun, actually. Unless you're the first truck of the morning. Then, the hopper is empty, and it kinda hurts, but since it’s not that early…”
“We’re going to fall?” asked Dena.
“Well, yeah. I mean, the men’s trucks – that’s what I always rode on – dump into the hopper from the lower level, so it wasn't much of a fall. I’ve seen the women’s trucks dump from the next level up. That’ll be a bit of a drop. Good thing it’s mid-morning. Should be a nice pile of clothes to land in.”
“You said we can get up to the men’s walkways?” asked Bozeman.
“Yup. Easy,” said James. “Well, pretty easy.”
The truck lurched as it slowed down. The five passengers tumbled over as the truck took a sharp right turn.
“Oh. We’re on the ramp,” said James. “Get ready.”
“Get ready, how?” asked Ford. “How do you get ready to be dumped from one story up?”
“Get your mind ready,” said James with a little smile. “Gravity does the work. Just remember not to shout ‘wheeee’ on the way down. Audio sensors. Almost got caught once when I…”
James tumbled forward as the truck stopped suddenly and rocked. Ford could feel dull, metallic clanking through the floor. The vehicle began to tip to the left. Ada reached for Ford's hand. He wanted to pull his hand free. Falling sounded bad enough. Falling while paralyzed from radiation would be worse. Yet, the worried look in Ada's eyes stopped him. He took his hand out of her grip and wrapped his hand around hers. She smiled but still had drooping eyebrows.
The door flew up suddenly, causing all five of them to flinch. The robes nearest the door slid across the floor and out.
“Remember. No shouting ‘wheee.’ Just land in the pile and lie still for a minute.” James pushed off and slid out of the door, vanishing into the dark void amid the white garments.
Ford watched Bozeman grab Dena’s hand as they slid out and tumbled to the left. Hoping not to land on anyone, Ford pushed off the door jamb so that he and Ada fell to the right.
The fall seemed to last several long seconds. He and Ada tried to keep their feet beneath them, but they slowly rotated onto their backs. White robes, falling more slowly, fluttered up past them. Ford caught a glimpse of angular machines silhouetted by a row of lights on the far right.
Ford sank into the pile of clothing for a moment before bouncing upward. More robes fell across his face, covering his eyes and mouth. He held Ada’s hand tightly. He could feel that she was bouncing too. With his free hand, he pulled at the laundry twisted across his face. After a few more clanks and thunks from above them, there came a velvety silence. Even though the air was stale and thick with the musty smell of old body odor, he relished the stillness. The mound of laundry began to jiggle and sway.
“There you are,” said James in a soft voice. “Found the other two. You guys okay?”
“I think so. Are you okay, Ada?”
Ford saw her pull a robe off her head. She held up their clasped hands and smiled.
“Good. Good” continued James. “I took the liberty of grubbing around on the other side of this hopper. Men’s clothes in the next hopper. I found a set of grays that might fit your friend here.”
“Really? That’s excellent,” said Ford.
James tossed the coveralls toward Ada. “They smell a bit ripe, but the size looks right. Shouldn't need to cuff 'em.”
“Got to get moving. Better get changed quick while we’re in the dark. It gets better lit up topside.”
Ada started to unzip her pantsuit but stopped when she noticed that Ford was watching.
“Hey,” James said in a scolding whisper. He put his hand on Ford’s shoulder. “You don’t watch.”
“Why not?” Ford was curious about what swellings actually looked like. His dark imagination pictured something lumpy and pale like a tumor. His lighter imagination pictured something soft and smooth. This seemed like an opportunity to settle which theory was correct.
“Why not?” James scoffed. “Oh, for crying out loud. Just turn around. It’s okay now, miss.”
Ford could hear the zippers and much rustling. The mound of clothing beneath them shifted as Ada moved. James scrambled down the hill of clothing to whisper to Bozeman. When Ford heard a long zipper pull, he assumed she was done and turned around.
She was not done. The long zipper sound was a zip down, not up.
Huh. Smooth, roundish cones. He was pleased that the swellings were not like lumpy tumors. Even though his academic curiosity was satisfied, he continued to stare. As Ada pulled at the legs of the garment, she bounced a little and so did her swellings. Ford’s body began to respond as if he were watching the stimulation animations.
He looked down. What’s going on? Why is this…
A cold wave of realization poured over him. His body recognized the shapes. It took his mind a few more moments to catch up.
The animations! That’s what those bouncing circles are supposed to be. The circles, the curving lines: they’re all patterned after the shapes of women, but why…
Ford answered his own question. The Department of Health always pushed men to satisfy that appetite as often as possible, yet they had to resort to abstractions for men to pleasure themselves with. They could not allow men to be stimulated by the images of real women. Men would not fear women if they thought of them pleasurably.
Ada finished zipping up. She had not noticed that Ford had turned around too soon. She smiled at him. He felt guilty as if he had stolen something.
James climbed back up the pile and interrupted Ford’s thoughts. “Ah, she’s good to go now. Except for being especially pretty, she could maybe pass for a man…at a distance…sort of. Anyhow, next, we make our way over to the conveyor.”
Ford was a little relieved at the distraction of traveling again. His body needed a distraction, and his mind had stumbled upon something too complicated to be sorted out quickly. They still had to escape.
James pointed the end of the hopper near the lights. “See there? The conveyor hauls the laundry up to the next level for sorting. Can’t have men’s clothes co-mingling with women’s clothes, you know.” James winked.
“Whatever,” said Bozeman impatiently. “But how do we get to the men’s walkways from here? We don’t have all day.”
“See that catwalk crossing the conveyor channel?” James pointed again. “Service techs use it if things clog up. There are sensors on the walls of the conveyor, watching to see if the laundry bunches up. So, we gotta stay low until we get under the catwalk. Then, ya grab on and pull yourself up.”
“You can do that?” Bozeman asked skeptically.
“Not as fast as you young bucks, maybe,” said James defensively. “I might not be fast, but I manage. Come on. Let’s get to the belt before another truck dumps its load on us.” James half-crawled, half-swam across the shifting piles of clothing, stirring up musty smells.
Ford followed, as did the others. As they got closer to the conveyor, the mass of clothing pulsated with a steady rhythm. Despite the dim light, Ford could see garments pulled from the pile by rows of knobs on the wide belt.
“Remember,” cautioned James. “Stay low on the belt. It helps to lay on your back. You can swing your arms up and grab the catwalk frame. Do like this.” James flopped onto his back near the belt, allowing himself to be pulled up when the clothes beneath him caught on the knobs.
“Let’s go,” Ford whispered. “I’ll go first.” Ada nodded. The coveralls fit a little tight on her. He began to stare again. It took a shake of his head to derail his thoughts. They had to escape The City. There was no time to wonder about swellings.
Ford copied James’ move. While on his back, he tipped his head up just enough to see that Ada had climbed on. The bounce and vibration of the belt made it difficult to see clearly in the dim light. He thought he could make out Bozeman insisting that Dena go first.
Tipping his head back to look up, Ford could see the truss frame of the catwalk approaching. The silhouette of James’ two arms shot up. Hands grabbed the steel. James was rolled up into a sitting position with the belt pulling him along and then onto his feet. He hooked one foot onto the frame, but the belt carried his other foot too far back. James hung awkwardly by one hand and one foot.
Ford shifted to the right so he would not arrive at the same spot James occupied. He thrust up his arms and grabbed the cold yellow tube. The belt rolled him into a sitting position, then a standing position. He jumped before the conveyor took his footing away too. He got a solid grip on the vertical pipe just above an angle brace.
With both his feet firmly set on the bottom tube, Ford reached down to grab Ada's outstretched hand. He pulled her up so she could grip the frame, get her footing, and climb. Before Ada had cleared the bottom tube, Dena's hands shot up. Ford pulled hard. Dena hung there for a moment as if unsure of what to do.
“Grab the frame,” Ford grunted. “Anywhere. Just grab anywhere.”
The rhythmic clanking and throbbing of the conveyor mechanism added an urgent tempo to their motions. The air near the top was acrid with the smell of detergent. Ford glanced up to see a line of mechanical arms arrayed along the belt. Each had a small light at the end of its arm. Each arm swung in a shallow arc to pull a particular color of clothing off the belt and down metal chutes. Beyond the chutes rose a churning, gurgling sound. The air was warm, humid, and carried a smell that stung in Ford’s nostrils.
Dena’s free hand clasped onto an angle brace. Her feet scrambled to get a secure foothold.
“For crying out loud,” muttered Bozeman. “You’re all in my way. How’s a guy supposed to…?” He grumbled and shifted his handhold to the left, along the wall, to find unoccupied handholds. Bozeman was the first to pull himself onto the catwalk deck.
“Help Ada and Dena up,” said Ford. They had their arms on the edge of the narrow metal walkway but found no grip to pull themselves up.
James, however, had made no progress. He hung at about the same place he started. Ford reached down to grab a handful of James’ coveralls. He pulled as hard as he could. James got his other foot onto the frame. He looked up at Ford and nodded. All four of them helped James roll onto the metal grid of the catwalk.
“Whew. Thanks,” said James between deep, heaving breaths. “Adventuring…is getting…harder to do.”
Ford helped him to his feet. “We’re not done yet. Which way now?”
“Straight that way is the service room.” James pointed down to the end of the catwalk. “Besides that door is a ladder. It goes up to a door at the walkway level. Used it twice before. That was at a different plant, of course, but they’re all the same, so...”
“Great! Come on!” Bozeman herded the others toward the ladder. “No time to lose.”
At the ladder, Bozeman looked up. It was at least fifteen meters tall. He turned to squint at James. “You said you’ve done this twice before, but you couldn’t pull yourself up the catwalk without help. How are you going to climb this ladder? This can’t take all day.”
“Oh, what’s your hurry?” James huffed. “I could have gotten up the catwalk just fine. I only needed to rest a bit. I can get up that ladder, too. Not as quick as you, maybe…I might have to rest a couple times…”
“No time for that,” sputtered Bozeman. He turned his back toward James and looked over his shoulder. “Here, put one arm over my shoulder and the other under my other arm. Lock your hands on your wrists like this, and don’t let go.”
“You’re going to carry him up the ladder?” Dena asked.
“If that’s what it takes, yes. Now, latch on James. Hurry up.”
James hesitantly reached around Bozeman’s back and clasped his hands together. Bozeman adjusted his arms to where he felt he could maintain a range of motion.
Ford started up the ladder first and motioned for Ada and Dena to follow him. If anything went wrong with Bozeman’s plan, he did not want James falling on Ada.
Climbing the ladder went quickly for the first three. The clank and throb of the machinery drowned out the clang of their boots upon the rungs. Ford reached the door and opened it a crack to peek out. Pedestrians walked past one end of the narrow service alley. The other end was blocked by a wall. He waved the all-clear. Ada and Dena climbed out and stood with their backs against the wall.
Standing flat to the wall did nothing to conceal their swellings. Ford looked away, shaking his head. This won’t be easy.
--- (end part 1)
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Post by texican on Jan 19, 2021 19:33:43 GMT -6
Thanks Mic for restarting Ford's Escape. Now, we only need the start of Part 2. Texican....
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Post by mic on Jan 20, 2021 13:49:08 GMT -6
Chapter 20 (part 2)
Ford peered the door and down into the dark interior. He could hear Bozeman grunting. Heavy thuds made the steel ladder ring.
“Yer doing great,” said James with a trembling voice. “Just…great…really…don’t slip or anything, okay? Don’t drop me…I mean, you’re doing great…just great.”
When Ford could finally see them, he reached down to pull up on James’ shoulder. The two of them tumbled over the threshold and onto the pea-gravel.
“Thanks, man,” said James. “I knew you wouldn’t drop me.”
Bozeman lay on the gravel for a few moments, his arms spread limply beside him. “That was a lot harder than I thought,” said Bozeman, between deep breaths, his eyes still closed.
“You did all that to help someone else?” Dena asked, her eyebrows knit in confusion. “None of you are behaving anything like what they tell us.”
“Can’t help that,” Bozeman said. “No time…for resting.” He rolled onto his knees and tried to stand, but his legs were still weak from fatigue. “I just need a minute. We’ve still got a little time but got a few blocks to go.”
“Time?” Ford asked.
“Got to keep moving, you know.” Bozeman clicked on his visor. His eyes darted left and right as he studied his map. “Left out of this alley, we take that walkway to the next node. Soft right and down that way.”
“That way to what?” asked Dena.
“Well, eventually, there’s a stairway down to a major tram node, but we can step off at the surface roads and catch an empty concrete carrier like Ford was planning.”
“Right,” said Ford. “Let's go. You two women try to keep Bozeman, James, and I between you and the cameras. If you don't see them…”
“I’ll point them out,” said James. “Been spotting cameras for years. Even the hidden ones are always hidden in the same places.”
The group approached the walkway cautiously. Men, in sparse clusters, walked past the service corridor opening. With each passing worker, Ford snuck quick peeks up and down the sidewalk.
“There’s a camera back that other way on a crossover. That will only see our backs. Ahead, there's one on a mast to the far right. We should be able to keep ourselves between the women and the lens. Okay, does everyone have a deactivated visor?”
Ford put on his visor, making sure the switch was in the off position.
James pulled his visor from his pants pocket. “I’ve had this extra visor for years. Dead as a stone. No time to tell you how I got it, but it’s been useful for adventuring.”
Ada and Dena looked at each other. “We left our visors in a mylar bag back in the electrical closet. We were afraid they would track us if we brought them.”
“You were right,” said Ford. “They probably would. Fortunately, I've got my old supervisor's set here. The River People installed an off switch. It can't be tracked.” He handed 99’s visor to Ada.
Dena looked at each of the other four, all wearing visors. “Maybe if I keep my head down? Or my hand up like this, they won’t notice that I’m not wearing a visor.”
“Nah,” said James. He pulled another visor from his other pocket. “You can use mine. It’s kinda broke – in a good sort of way. To get it to power up, I have to push the earpiece into the frame. Be careful not to push here, and it stays dead. Since you don’t have my chip in your head, it won’t be able to identify you.”
“As a precaution,” said Ford. “We should give your face a black stripe or two.” He stuck his finger into his little paint pot and reached for her face.”
“What are you doing?” She backed away.
“It’s okay, Dena,” assured Bozeman. “Our friend Owen explained that the facial recognition algorithms get confused by stripes and shadows. We can’t let your face, in particular, get recognized.
Dena stood still but scrunched up her eyes. Ford rubbed a diagonal stripe across her right cheek. “Eww. What is that stuff?” Dena asked. “It smells awful.”
“I think they said it was charcoal powder and raccoon fat,” Ford said as he daubed another stripe. “Maybe it was deer fat. Anyhow, that should be good. Let’s go when the next group passes going left. We can fall in behind them.”
They only had to wait a few minutes before a loose knot of five men in gray shuffled past the alley. Bozeman led the way, followed by James. The two women hurried around the corner, taking up positions to the left of Bozeman and James. Ford brought up the rear, keeping a wary eye on the camera ahead.
“More slumping,” whispered Ford. “Dena, you’re walking too straight and tall. Look at how these other men are walking. Keep your eyes down. No one looks around. Pretend like you’re headed to a shift in the mines.”
“How would I know what that’s like?” Dena whispered.
“Okay, bad example. Just try to walk like they are and look away from the camera a bit. No. Not obvious like that, just a little more of an angle. Yes. Better.”
Ada had to take quick half-steps occasionally to keep herself in Ford’s blind spot.
“Next camera’s on that overpass,” James muttered over his shoulder. “We should break into two groups for a while.”
“Good idea,” said Bozeman. “Dena, you come behind James and me. Keep looking down.”
Ford motioned for Ada to drift right with him and follow a loose line of four other men. While beneath the pedestrian overpass, Ford stepped behind Ada to shield her from the camera on the other side.
“So, James,” Bozeman began. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m picking on you, but you’re…I mean…I…”
“Never saw somebody as old as me?”
“Yeah. You said you can get around, but from the catwalk and the ladder, it's pretty obvious that you…have, um…limited mobility.”
“Heh. That’s a fancy way of saying old and feeble, right? You don’t strike me as the diplomatic type. Spit it out.”
“Okay, fine: old and feeble. I don’t remember seeing feeble old men. Once someone gets too old to work a full shift, well… The City disappears them. An old guy lived two apartments down from me. He wasn’t as old as you, but still…pretty old. Nice enough, guy, but he got to where he couldn’t walk very well. He was showing up late to work a lot. Early one morning, two men in black came. He argued with them, but they led him away, wrists tied. I never saw him again.”
James nodded. “Yep. Over the years, I’ve had one friend after another get that early morning visit. The City doesn't waste resources on losing investments.”
“Then, don’t get me wrong, but…why are you even here?”
James smiled and rolled up one sleeve. He pointed to a cluster of small lumpy scars on the inside of his elbow. “See that? Needles. They take some of my blood once a month or so. Seems I’ve got some special Bittybodies. That’s what I call ‘em. Whatever they are, they’re something that the Matri need. Ya see, the Matri got this sickness...”
“The Condition?” Dena gasped. “You know about that?”
“I’m not supposed to know, of course,” said James, “but over the years of me asking the techs an innocent question here or there, I've kinda put it together.”
“He’s right,” said Dena quietly. “Shortly after The Triumph, senior leadership would sometimes get sick with it. No one knows why. No one talks openly about The Condition – as if not talking about it would keep it away – but we all knew. I could tell it in peoples’ eyes. Sometimes, whoever got it could be dead in a few weeks. Having someone higher up die quickly always shook up the committees and set off power struggles – like the open position on the executive council that got me in trouble.”
“But I guess my blood helps ‘em fight their sickness. They must have been trying to simulate it, or extract it, or whatever, but apparently, it's never worked. Every month, they haul me and take a half-liter of blood. Even though I’m really old and can’t work, they ain’t disappeared me ‘cuz they need my Bittybodies.” James smiled proudly.
“Oh. We’re here,” Bozeman said to himself. He drifted right to whisper to Ford. “We need to enter the building coming up on the left. We'll have to wait for people to enter in order to get in, but…”
“Why do we need to go in there? We’re making good progress on the walkways.”
“It’s…This is my old hex, you see. I used to live and work around here. I know the area.”
“Okay, but why…”
“You’re always telling me I ask too many questions,” blurted Bozeman.
Ford could only frown. He wanted to disagree, but he had no facts. Bozeman had all the information. Ford wished he had downloaded a few maps too so he could have some independent information. Back then, he was also worried about the system tracking them if he went online to get maps. That, and he was more obsessed with figuring out how to meet up with Ada. Now, his previous choices made him more dependent upon Bozeman than he liked.
“Good thing there’s a line of men waiting at the door to get in,” said Bozeman. “Okay, listen up. Each of us has to get between one of those guys waiting in line. When the guy ahead of you goes in, you follow quickly – almost on his heels – before the door closes. Without an active visor, the sensors won’t see you. Girls, keep your heads down, or a hand up around your face. There are still cameras at the doors. When you get inside, move into the hallway with the others, but slow down. Once we’re all together, I’ll show you what’s next.”
“What do you mean, what’s next?” asked Ford. “We keep going to the stairway.”
“Shh. Everyone in line,” Bozeman touched his finger to his lips.
Maybe he has some secret shortcut that avoids the cameras.
Ford felt a little anxious as Ada's turn came up. The man ahead of her stepped close to the door and looked up. The light above the door changed from yellow to green. The door slid open. Ada almost collided with the man, but she took a half-step sideways and turned. Ford's man watched the light switch from yellow to green. The door slid shut and clipped Ford's heel.
In the brightly lit lobby, Ford could make out the shapes of James and Ada. Dena stood near a wall looking uneasy.
“Where’s Bozeman?” Ford asked.
“I don’t know,” said Dena. “He said to wait here. He had something he needed to do, and he’d be back in a few minutes.”
“Something to do?” Ford almost raised his voice. “What could he have to do?”
Dena shrugged apologetically. Obviously, Bozeman had not told her anything.
“What is this place?” asked Ada. She glanced around, trying to keep her head down. Other pairs or triplets of men in gray coveralls stood around the lobby as if waiting.
“This here’s an education building,” said James. “Look at that far wall. See the blue flag with the yellow torch on it? Department of Education.”
“Why would Bozeman need to come here?” Ford wondered out loud. “We can’t afford to stand around like this. Dena, which way did he go?”
Dena pointed to a broad stairway that led up to a mezzanine.
“Let’s go see if we can find him and get going again,” said Ford. “Better to keep moving than stand around getting noticed.”
James motioned for Dena to follow behind him so he could mask view of her from the camera at the top of the stairs. Ford motioned similarly to Ada. Despite his impatience, Ford maintained the plodding pace of someone not especially eager to get where he was going. That was how everyone else in the lobby moved.
“Which way did he go?” Ford asked in a whisper.
“I couldn't see,” replied Dena. “He went down this corridor, and I lost sight of him.”
The windowless walls of the wide corridor were interrupted by an occasional set of double doors. “We’ll check this side,” said Ford. “You two check that side. Listen through the doors. Maybe you’ll hear his voice.”
James nodded and shuffled off with Dena in his wake. Ford let out a big sigh and shook his head. Bozeman could be anywhere. He was always in such a hurry, and now he leaves us waiting around.
Ford strolled slowly along the wall without looking suspicious to the camera at the end of the corridor. Ada stayed behind him. The first set of doors was cold and silent. The second set hummed from some sort of machinery within. A muffled voice came through the third set. Ford paused to listen.
“Is that him?” Ada asked. “That sounds like him, but you know him better than I do.”
“Yes. That’s him.” Ford discretely waved to James and Dena. They noticed that Ford had stopped. “He sounds worked up.”
“Is he in trouble?” asked Ada. “Are you going to go help him?”
“I can’t leave you two out here,” said Ford. “There’s not enough of James to hide you both.”
“So, we all go in and help him,” offered James.
There was a logic to the thought. Better for them all to stay together. Better to have the two women out of general traffic where they were more likely to be discovered. Two women on the men’s zone – one of them an escaped Matri – would create a mess they could not escape.
Ford pulled open the door and ushered Ada and Dena in behind James. The four stood against the closed doors, facing into the square room, roughly forty meters across. Rows of men in gray worker coveralls sat facing a huge monitor perched on the opposite wall. None of them turned to see who had entered. A gray-haired woman’s face nearly filled the screen. She spoke in a rolling monotone.
The sight of so many young men, all the same age, and all in new coveralls, being addressed by a low-level Matri, could be only one thing: a graduation ceremony.
“I heard his voice,” Ford whispered. “He’s in here somewhere.”
“Look up in front,” whispered Ada. She pointed over the heads of the audience.
Bozeman paced back and forth beneath the monitor, arms gesturing, ranting at the graduates. At times, his voice mixed with the televised official to produce an unintelligible garble. At times, the voices separated.
“You have all learned the important lesson,” said the Matri, “that you only have value when you contribute to the prosperity of The City. The City does not need you. It is you who need The City…”
“It’s all a lie!” shouted Bozeman. He paced back and forth, addressing the audience. “You don’t need this stinking city! You have minds. You have your hands. You can take care of yourselves – even out in the wild. I’ve done it and you can too! --- (end part 2)
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Post by sniper69 on Jan 20, 2021 15:51:29 GMT -6
Thanks for the latest chapters. Is it to early to ask for....errrr..... .....well I'll be polite and say thank you for the great chapters. I'm looking forward to reading more.
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Post by mic on Jan 20, 2021 19:36:10 GMT -6
Thanks for the latest chapters. Is it to early to ask for....errrr..... .....well I'll be polite and say thank you for the great chapters. I'm looking forward to reading more. Welllll, You did ask nicely. :-) --- Mic
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Post by mic on Jan 20, 2021 19:42:10 GMT -6
From the end of part 2...
Chapter 20 Part 3
“What is he doing?” asked James.
“I think I know,” said Ford. “He complained a lot about The City always telling he was worthless. He mentioned his graduation ceremony a couple times. I think he’s trying to get even.”
“Our great city, GranNor, has given you an undeserved special gift, expending valuable resources to train you to be…mine equipment technicians.” The last three words were in a different voice and did not match the lip movements of the face on the screen.
“Gift?” Shouted Bozeman. “They’ve given you nothing! Everything is still theirs. They can take it all away whenever they want. It’s all theirs. You are their slaves!”
James shook his head. “Well, carrying on like that, the Matri are gonna notice. That video he’s arguing with might be a recording, but all these kids’ visor cameras are live and looking right at him.”
Ford waved his arms to get Bozeman’s attention. He did not notice or refused to stop. “I have to go get him,” said Ford. “Stay by the door. If this goes badly, you’ll have to get out.”
“And then what?” asked Ada.
Ford could only shrug. He moved down the sides of the room at a pace the hoped would attract no attention.
“The City has generously given you, ” continued the recording of the school official, “an opportunity to begin to repay the world for the terrible horrors your kind have inflicted upon innocent victims for thousands of years.”
“And that’s the biggest lie!” Bozeman pointed up at the screen. “You haven’t done anything. How could you? You’ve lived in this city all your lives doing nothing. Sure, there were bad men in the Before Times, but there were good men too. They never tell you about the good men. The point is, you didn’t do any of those horrors. History is not your fault!”
“Bozeman,” hissed Ford as he grabbed Bozeman’s arm. “This is crazy. Come on.”
“They have to understand.” Bozeman waved at the audience. “They have to know the truth!”
Ford pulled Bozeman toward the side of the room. “You’re going to get us all caught.”
“If you work hard and follow all the rules, you can…”
The face of the school official disappeared, replaced by the woman with a square face and small eyes. “What is the meaning of…You! I thought we…” Her eyes narrowed. “7853. You have caused us trouble for the last time.”
She looked up, her face assuming the familiar speech-making expression. “Attention, loyal citizens. This man you see has violated the proper order. He is an infection!” She spat the last word.
In unison, all of the young men turned their heads from the screen to Bozeman. A cold shiver ran down Ford’s neck. The monitor displayed an array of images from the audience’s visor cameras. Large and small, they were all images of Bozeman’s face.
Bozeman stared, stunned, at the montage of his face on the screen. Ford pulled Bozeman up the side aisle.
“Citizens. Seize that man! He plans to hurt the people of GranNor!.”
All of the young men stood up and began rushing awkwardly between the rows of seats toward Bozeman. Arms reached out from the aisle seats. Ford and Bozeman swatted them away as they ran along the wall. James waved from the open door.
Once in the hallway, Bozeman shook off his stunned expression and looked around. “To those stairs. Quick!”
James pushed the double doors shut by thrusting his back against them. The others ran. The best James could manage was a speed-walk with stiff legs.
“Faster, James,” urged Ford.
“This is my faster. Good thing I fiddled with the latches.” James pointed over his shoulder as he shuffled. “It’s a little trick I learned years ago. It should hold ‘em for…”
A great bang shook the floor. Both doors fell flat, and a gray wave of young men tumbled through the opening and into the corridor.
“Unless they break the doors down, of course.” James quickened his speed-walk, pumping his elbows back and forth. Even so, he clearly could not keep up with the rest of the group.
The wave of grays swelled into the hallway, taking a moment to get their bearings. Simultaneous shouts of “There they are,” rang out. The crowd ran toward the escapees.
Ford ran back and grabbed James' hand. At the pace, Ford kept, James was not so much running as trying to keep a leg under himself now and then to prevent falling.
Two men in gray near the stairway turned in unison and rushed to block the way. Bozeman swung his left arm, his fist connecting squarely under the chin of the first man. He flew to the right and crashed into the stair railing. The second man skidded to a stop, suddenly reassessing the situation. Bozeman did not wait. He stepped over the fallen man and pulled Dena down the stairs after him.
The reassessing man glanced at Ada, confused, as she ran past him. She turned to look back. Ford urged her to keep running.
“Let go of my hand,” exclaimed James. “I can get down faster than using steps. You get that guy!” James nodded toward the man in gray as he swung one leg over the steel tube railing, spread his legs out for balance, and slid down the banister.
Ford marveled for a moment at the speed of James' descent, but the man in gray grabbed Ford's shoulder from behind. The wave of graduates was almost upon them. Ford jabbed his elbow into the man's throat. The stunned man gasped for a moment. Ford side-armed him in the ear and pulled him down upon the first man’s body on the top step. He swung his leg over the banister and followed James' example.
The crowd of angry young men ran to the head of the stairs. The first few tripped over the fallen men. The onrush of graduates pushed more young men onto the tangle, creating an even more massive roadblock.
Ford looked back, pleased at how he had plugged the bottleneck. When he looked forward, he only had time to think: Too fast!
He flew off the end of the railing, landed on his chest, and skidded to a stop on the polished concrete floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him.
James and Ada helped Ford to his feet. “You gotta squeeze the railing with your hands near the end,” said James, “or…well, you’ll do what you did.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” gasped Ford.
“Come on!” shouted Bozeman. “This way.” He ran down the walkway. Dena followed.
Ford and Ada each took one of James’ hands and ran, pulling him along faster than his legs could manage. Looking over his shoulder, Ford could see a river of gray pouring down the stairs. Angry arms waved fists, and a hundred voices shouted an incoherent roar.
Pedestrians in the walkway jumped aside and gaped as the escapees ran past. Bozeman pointed to a sign ahead. It marked the stairway down to a tram node and the surface streets. Before they reached the stairs, a dozen men in gray and beige formed a line, blocking the entrance.
“Knives!” shouted Ford. He recalled Owen’s first look of horror when he showed him the knife he found. Citizens were trained since childhood to recoil in fear at even the sight of weapons.
“Right!” shouted Bozeman. He drew his knife and held it high as he ran. Ford left Ada to pull James. Ford ran ahead, shouting and slashing the air back and forth as he recalled the men in the Haters’ videos had done. The eyes of the dozen men grew wide. Their mouths dropped open before they turned and ran.
James nearly stumbled several times, going down the stairs. At the surface road landing, he stopped to catch his breath. “I can't do it…can’t keep up with you young ones. I’ll stay here and hold ‘em off for a little while. Give you guys a lead. “
“No,” said Ford. “You’re coming.”
Ada pointed to a worker trundling a two-wheel cart with a stack of plastic boxes toward a waiting truck. “What about that?”
“Great idea!” Ford ran toward the worker who froze in place. As Ford grew near, he threw up his arms like a bear and roared. The man dropped his cart and fled.
“Step up on this, James, and hold on tight.” Ford grabbed the left handle and nodded to Ada. She took ahold of the right and nodded back. They ran down the darkened surface road with the two-wheeler bouncing behind them. James clutched the crossbar with white knuckles. He tried to keep his body low to reduce the swaying.
“They don’t seem to be following us,” said Ada. “Maybe they did not see us take the surface road and assumed we went farther down the stairs to the tram?”
“Maybe,” said Ford. They caught up with Bozeman and Dena, who had slowed their run to a jogging pace. Dena held her side.
“We can’t keep up this pace,” said Bozeman. “We seem to have outrun them for now. We can slow down a bit.”
“No,” said Dena between pained breaths as they kept jogging. “They know we’re on this road. We’ve been on it too long. Traffic Control must have noticed the disturbances and been tracking us.”
“What will they do?” asked Ford.
“The algorithms must have flagged all that noise and disorder back there and escalated it to a manager. She’ll access the visor feeds from people in the area. Through the visors of those all those men we passed, the managers saw which way we went.”
“Will they assume we’ll keep going straight?” Ford asked.
“Yes. I interned in Traffic Control for a year. I only saw trouble twice,” said Dena. “The men who went rogue always ran straight. TC would set up a crew farther down the way to capture them.”
Bozeman switched on his visor. “Then, we don't go straight.” His eyes scanned his maps back and forth, up and down. “I think there’s an intersection a littleways ahead. If we turn right, there’s another cross street after that.”
“I see it,” said James. He pointed but had to quickly resume holding on tightly. “There’s a camera up there. You can see the glint of the lens from here.”
“Surface road cameras are fixed,” said Ford. “Let's run like we're going straight but wait until we get under the camera to head off to the right.”
“That will throw them off,” said Bozeman with a chuckle.
“Not for long.” Dena shook her head. “They’ll notify Security to intercept. When we don’t show up, they’ll figure out that we turned and calculate alternate courses.”
“Then, we keep turning,” said Bozeman.
“Maybe we give ‘em something else to chase,” said James. He pointed to a delivery truck as it trundled into the next intersection. “Stop it long enough for it to contact the servers. I bet they’ll think we’re aboard.”
“Bozeman…” began Ford.
“I know, I know,” said Bozeman wearily. “How did I get to be the official truck stopper?” he grumbled to himself.
While Bozeman stood in front of the stopped truck, the others rushed around behind it. They stopped partway down the cross street. The machine began lurching toward Bozeman.
“That’s long enough,” shouted James.
Bozeman stepped aside. The truck resumed its course into the dark street. “That’ll give them something else to chase.”
Dena shook her head. “If they think we're inside, they'll just take command and stop it and send a team to it.”
“Yeah, but we won’t be there,” said Ford. “We’ll be…” His thoughts were interrupted by the new cross street. It was twice as wide. In the dim light, he could see that the sides of the road were strewn with gravelly rubble.
Concrete bits. The carriers use this road.
Ford pointed at the ceiling. A camera pod hung down, aimed south, down the road. “Stay back this way.”
The others nodded their understanding and headed north.
“Concrete carriers use this street,” said Ford. He pointed to the gray sand and broken bits of concrete along the edge of the pavement. “If we can get aboard an empty concrete carrier heading north, it should take us all the way to the outer wall. Let’s keep traveling north. Hopefully, an empty carrier will come along soon, and we can get a ride instead of running the whole way.”
“Can’t stop it for long,” cautioned James. “It’ll tell the servers. Gotta be quick.”
“How are we going to get you aboard quickly?” asked Bozeman.
Ford frowned as he thought. “Okay. How about this? Bozeman stops the carrier.”
Bozeman moaned and shook his head in resignation.
“There’s usually ladder rungs on the back,” continued Ford. “Ada, while you and Dena go up the ladder as fast as you can, I’ll climb up the side and toss in the cart. James, you step up on the rub rail and just hang on. We’ll pull you up later.”
James' eyebrows drooped, and he swallowed hard. “Yeah. That should work,” he said with little confidence.
Ford perked up at the sound of tires approaching. “Okay. Get ready, everyone.”
Bozeman stood in the middle of the road. Ada and Dena stood along the wall, poised to sprint toward the truck when it stopped.
“No good. No good,” said James. “Delivery truck. Short-range.”
Ford waved vigorously at Bozeman. “Not this one! Stand clear!”
Bozeman jumped aside as the boxy vehicle whirred past, kicking up a faint cloud of concrete dust.
“Okay. That was a good drill,” Ford said, to counteract the disappointed faces. “We did good getting ready. We’ll get it next time.”
They walked along the wall, trying to stay in the darkness. The only sound was of their footsteps and the crunch of grit beneath the wheels of the cart.
Bozeman stopped suddenly. Dena bumped into his back. “What?”
“Listen,” said Bozeman. A low-pitched whine crept into the silence. “Ford. That sounds like a…”
“Concrete carrier. Alright, everyone. Just like we practiced.”
Bozeman took his position, legs braced, jaw set, eyes narrowed. Ada and Dena crouched along the wall like sprinters ready for a signal. James swallowed hard again.
Ford nodded to himself. This was a concrete carrier, alright. From the pitch of the motors, it was traveling fast. It must be empty. From Bozeman’s slightly worried face, Ford could see he sensed the speed too. Bozeman spread his arms out to make himself a bigger target for the sensors.
The dirty yellow truck rushed into view. The wheels locked up and skidded on the loose gray sand. Bozeman squinted and looked to the side, arms still outstretched. The truck stopped less than a meter away from Bozeman.
“Go!” said Ford. He ran to the rear rub rail, pulling the empty cart behind him. He stepped up and flung the two-wheeler over the side. Ada and Dena clambered up the rungs quickly. James shuffled as rapidly as he could to the rub rail and hoisted himself up.
Bozeman stepped aside. The truck resumed its course. Bozeman ran alongside, grabbing a rung at the back corner and pulling himself up. It took both Ford and Bozeman to pull James up and over the side.
“So far, so good,” said Ford. “Hopefully, we were fast enough getting aboard that the servers didn’t notice.”
(end chapter 20)
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Post by texican on Jan 20, 2021 20:36:10 GMT -6
Mic,
Bozeman wants to inform all of the men of the truth, but will it matter?
Off to freedom?
Thanks for the two chapters.
Texican....
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Post by misterjimbo on Jan 20, 2021 20:47:16 GMT -6
Thanks for coming back. Good story!
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Post by mic on Jan 21, 2021 13:54:08 GMT -6
Chapter 21 – Last Dash (part 1)
“How can they sleep like that?” Dena shook her head in disbelief at Ada, Bozeman, and James sitting with their backs against the sidewall of the concrete carrier's hopper. Their slumped heads waggled gently in unison to the motions of the truck.
“It’s been a pretty exhausting day,” said Ford. “It’s good that some of us can get some rest. We’ll need it.”
Dena leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’ve never been this exhausted in my entire life. Even so, I couldn’t sleep now. This has all been just too much to handle. I haven’t even really come to grips with my life falling to pieces.”
“Hmm,” muttered Ford. He had no idea what life was like for the ruling class, so he could not imagine what it would be like to lose it.
Dena looked down and ran her hand across her workman’s coveralls. “I always worked hard. Not hard like manual labor, but I was diligent. Lots of the others in my cohort just went through the motions of doing their jobs. They didn’t care. They knew they would get good assignments because their house was in power, or they knew someone higher up. I belonged to a strong house and knew a few people higher up. Even so, I couldn't coast along as they did. I wanted to make The City better, not just get by comfortably.”
Ford smiled wryly. “I just wanted a two-man apartment.”
“But then,” continued Dena, “everything I had worked for, everything I thought I was going to do, my whole future; it just collapsed in a matter of days.”
“That, I can relate to,” said Ford, nodding. “I had my apartment, my little garden up on the roof, and…my occasional meetings with Ada. Looking back, I thought I had it pretty good back then. That all collapsed in just one day.”
“And now I’m rushing off to…to what?” Dena flailed her arm toward the front of the truck. “I have no idea what I’m rushing off to, but I have no choice.” She shook her head. “I would have liked more time to think.”
Ford nodded to himself. When his old life collapsed, he was given no time to think either.
“So, what’s it like out there? You know, in The Outside?” Dena looked at Ford with a wince, braced for bad news. “You said it was great but then talked about men trying to kill you.”
“It’s not all like that. Hmm. Where to begin?” Ford rubbed his chin. How does one describe a whole new world in a simple answer? “To begin with, there are no city departments out there that provide for your every need.”
Dena raised one eyebrow in a sardonic glance. “I could figure that out myself.”
“Yeah. That sounded kind of obvious. Sorry. My point is that since no one is handing out food or clothes or anything, people make it for themselves. In here, The City provides everything they think its citizens need, but only just as much as city leaders think they should have. For workers like me, that was two coveralls, two underwear, two pairs of socks, and one pair of boots.”
Dena shrugged. “That’s the standard issue for workers.”
“I know, but in The Outside, there are no regulations like that. People can have as much as they’re willing to make.”
“That would get unequal very quickly,” said Dena. “What if someone has only one of a thing and another person has five?”
“If the man with one wants more, he makes himself more.”
“What if she can’t?” objected Dena. “What if she doesn’t know how to make things?”
“Learn how I guess,” said Ford. “I learned how to make some things. Some people make what they can make and trade for things they can’t make.”
Dena shook her head. “That seems too prone to failure. Someone is bound to not have enough. One of the things I learned about leadership is that they’re always trying to eliminate failure. Every citizen has enough,” she said as if repeating a slogan.
“But never more than just barely enough,” added Ford.
“No one fails,” she recited another slogan.
“No one prospers, either.”
“You two sure talk a lot,” said James. “Can’t sleep with all that chatter going on.”
“Sorry,” said Ford. “Just passing the time. This has been a long ride.”
“True enough,” said James. “Looks like we slipped past the all-seeing eyes, eh?” He winked mischievously at Dena. “You were talking about The Outside. I can remember only a few random bits from when I was a boy: the neighborhood we lived in, my school, and going out with my dad for a runza after church.”
“A runza?” asked Ford.
“What’s a church?” asked Dena.
“Runza is a sort of sandwich in a bread tube thing. Mmmm,” James closed his eyes and licked his lips. “And church is where we learned about God.”
The answer did not satisfy Dena, but Ford interrupted her follow-up question. “James, when I first saw you, back in The City, you were crying, and I started to talk to you. My visor started playing all kinds of hater videos.”
“Oh, that.” James looked away. “Sorry about that. The system doesn’t want me making friends. I’m a bad influence, don’t ya see? They couldn’t put me on city water; I’m guessing ‘cuz it would mess up my BittyBodies. Since I wasn’t dumb-and-happy like everyone else, I kinda…well…got into trouble sometimes. They couldn’t punish me by cutting off my food or ship me off to be turned into fertilizer. They needed me. What they could do is keep me from corrupting anybody else by chasing away anybody who got too close.”
“So that’s what was…” Ford’s thoughts were cut off by the sudden deceleration of the empty truck. He had to grab the edge of the hopper to avoid falling over. The sleepers topped forward.
“Hey,” sputtered Bozeman. “Why are we stopping?”
The truck squealed to a stop. The silence swallowed them for a moment. Ford waved his luminar a few times to brighten it.
“Is everyone okay?” Ford asked. He reached for Ada to help her sit up.
“Did they figure out that we’re on this truck?” Ford whispered to Dena.
She looked puzzled for a moment. Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to recall traffic procedures from her internship. “I don’t think so. If they knew we were in this vehicle, they would have driven it to a waiting roadblock squad.”
“It didn’t sound like it ran out of battery,” said James. “We stopped too fast.”
“No.” Dena shook her head. “I think they must have shut down all the transports, at least all in the quarter they think we’re in. They probably set up a perimeter of roadblocks around that school area. After we didn't show up in any of them, they had to try something bigger and more general. They’ll search all the stopped vehicles.”
“Then we should start walking,” said Bozeman. “We can’t just sit here and wait for them.”
“Walk, how far?” asked James. “Where are we?”
“We don’t dare turn on a visor to get a ping for the map,” said Ford. “If they shut down all traffic, that means they have no real idea where we are. A ping would tell them for sure.”
“Can we figure it out?” asked Ada. “How long were we traveling? We know about where we started, right?”
“Right,” said Ford. “So if we assume a steady speed…Bozeman and I timed the cruising speed of the concrete carrier we rode in coming back to The City. What did we figure out, Bozeman?”
“Eighty, I think? Yeah. We figured about eighty kilometers per hour.”
“Okay, look on your map – but don’t transmit!” said Ford with his hands up. “Figure out where we started, just outside of your old hex.”
“Got it,” said Bozeman with a little nod. His eyes were awash in the blue grow from his visor.
“How far to the northern edge of The City?”
“Hmm. Maybe…400 kilometers? Assuming all the hexes are the same size, and I think they are.”
“We must have been traveling for over four hours,” said Ada. “I was too busy to look at the time we started, what with all that running. But I must have sat in this thing for a half-hour before nodding off. I slept for…three and a half.”
“Add maybe a half an hour on foot before we got this truck.” Ford counted his fingertips. “Call it four and a half hours at eighty kilometers per hour.”
“Three hundred and sixty,” said Dena.
“We are only forty kilometers from the edge of The City?” asked Ada.
“More or less.”
“That’s still a long way on foot,” said James.
“It is.” Ford stood up and peered over the side of the truck. He turned on his visor light. “Before we start walking, I want to check something out.” He kicked a leg over the side and rolled out.
On the trip toward The City, he had spent many hours inside the hopper of a concrete carrier but never examined the vehicle's side. Behind the left front wheel was a flush metal door, barely visible through a gray crust of dried concrete mud. He had to pry the door open with his knife. Inside stood an array of relay cubes.
“I think we still might be able to ride the last forty,” Ford shouted up to the faces peering over the edge at him. “These big beasts have the same kind of control modules as the factory trucks. I’ll need a stiff wire, though, to manually connect the motors. I lost my copper wire a long time ago.”
“What about that hook thing James has?” asked Bozeman. “That was made of metal.”
“My hook?”
“Yes. You still have it, right? Let’s see it,” Bozeman demanded.
James reluctantly pulled his aluminum wire hook from his pocket. He held it in his hands as if it were his last and only possession. Bozeman snatched it from James’ fingers.
“He still has it.” Bozeman waved the bent wire over the side.
“Hey,” protested James.
“Would you rather walk?” quipped Bozeman.
“That might work,” said Ford. He carefully unbent the hook and reshaped the dull gray wire into an inverted U-shape. He carefully pushed the ends of the wire into two holes in the panel. Nothing happened.
“Isn’t it supposed to do something?” Bozeman asked.
“Hold on. Hold on. Maybe the wire isn’t straight enough and missed the contacts.” After a bit more finetuning, he pressed the wires in again.
A faint hum began.
“Yay! You did it!” exclaimed Bozeman.
Ford shushed the celebration. “Quiet! No. That wasn’t me.” He straightened up to hear better.
“It’s coming from up the street,” said Ada.
(end ch 21, part 1)
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Post by mic on Jan 22, 2021 6:39:25 GMT -6
Chapter 21 part 2
“You said they would stop all traffic,” said Ford.
Dena held her temples, her eyes shut tight, trying to remember. “They would stop all traffic…but then they would send patrols to check out all the stopped vehicles.”
“What!?” Ford renewed his jabbing of the wires into the holes: no time for finesse. The truck remained quiet and inert.
“Everybody, get down,” commanded Bozeman. All of the heads disappeared behind the edge of the hopper.
Ford could see the little yellow marker lights of the approaching personnel vehicle. He resumed trying to push the wire into the holes, making slight adjustments to the angle. The crunch of the sand beneath the tires became apparent. The whir of the patrol car’s motors grew louder. Ford just happened to glance at the relay panel again.
Agh! The uplink relay! He had forgotten to pull out the relay first. The truck was still being controlled by its server. He yanked out the little white box and dropped it to the pavement.
He could hear voices over the hum of the patrol vehicle. They sounded more annoyed than tense. Perhaps this was the umpteenth vehicle they had searched and found nothing thus far. Their car stopped ten meters in front of the incapacitated concrete carrier. Ford crouched low, the front wheel shielding him from view.
“Ugh,” said the first blackshirt who rolled out of the vehicle. “Another one of these dirty things? I’ve still got that stupid white dust all over my…”
“You complain too much, 37,” said another.
For a brief moment, Ford entertained the idea of hiding beneath the truck and hoped the patrol would not look in the hopper. He shook his head. Of course, they would look in the bin. Where else would they look for escapees?
I can't let them get Ada. He pushed the wires in again. The wheel motors purred to life. Success! But there was no time for celebration.
“What?” said one of the blackshirts. “I thought they stopped all these…”
The truck began to roll forward. Clutching the side rail, Ford peered past the wheel. The patrol car sat in the center of the tunnel.
“Hey! This thing’s moving! They said they were all…Watch out!”
There was not enough room to get around the car. He would have to try to ram his way past it – if that were possible. Ford jabbed the wire in the holes several times. With each press, the motors sped up another 10 percent.
Ford steered as close to the left wall as he could without scraping himself off the side of the truck. The big yellow carrier's bumper struck the corner of the patrol car, backing it into the right wall. The big machine shuddered. The impact nudged the truck closer to the left wall. Ford flattened himself against the side of the big machine as best he could. Despite a quick right turn, he still hit his head on the concrete wall.
The sound of groaning metal and shouts arose as the concrete carrier mangled the lightweight personnel car. Suddenly, the truck sped up. They were clear!
Ford wanted to look back and see what damage he had caused but dared not turn his head. Steering the lumbering giant with little plastic paddles was imprecise at best. Turning his body to look back would probably send the truck into the wall. Ford had to concentrate in effort to stop overcorrecting his steering and find a steady center.
“Hoo, man!” shouted Bozeman. “I thought they had us for sure!”
“Those men won’t be following us,” said Dena. “You wrecked their patrol car, but they’ll have reported all this. Now they know where we are and which way we’re going.”
“Where are we?” Ford shouted. “Which way should we go?”
“I don’t know,” said Bozeman. “We’re off my maps now.”
Maps. That’s right. I have some maps. Ford recalled that he downloaded a few city maps when they first got into The City. Bozeman had been collecting them later.
“I’m going to get a signal and find out where just we are!” shouted Ford.
“They will know where we are,” objected Dena.
“They already know,” said Ford. “We might as well know too.”
He clicked his visor on to transmit. A dot appeared on his street map for a moment, but it was eclipsed by the face of the woman with the small eyes – the Secretary of Peace.
“Stop where you are,” she said with a growl. “Surrender immediately, or we will…”. Ford shut off his visor. Any hope in their sneaking out unseen had vanished.
“Yup. They know where we are,” said Ford. “But I got a location. I need to make some turns to throw them off. Hold on!”
Ford slowed for the upcoming intersection, but not enough. The front corner of the truck came around more slowly than he expected. The left end of the bumper hit the wall. The impact nearly tossed Ford off of his perch. Thuds and muffled screams came from within the hopper.
“Ow!” shouted someone from inside the truck.
“Sorry! I'm trying,” Ford shouted back. He slowed the truck as they approached another intersection to make a cleaner turn.
“Hey!” shouted Bozeman. “Something is coming toward us. Down that street!” He pointed at the right crossroad.
“More coming down this one ahead, too!” exclaimed Dena. “They're rerouting traffic to box us in.”
“That narrows our choices. We go this way.” Ford turned the vehicle left, into the open street.
“There will be more coming toward us on this street, too,” Dena called over the edge of the hopper. “They'll have traffic coming down all of the cross streets. It’s only a matter of time until every street is blocked.”
Ford clenched his jaw. Then we have to get off the streets.
The walls of the surface road had grown farther apart. An additional lane had formed on their left. Large doorways, closed with overhead metal doors, interrupted the left wall.
These are factory supply doors. We’re in an industrial triangle.
He spotted an open door ahead. Recalling the panel factory he used to work in, Ford snatched at a thin straw of hope. They might be able to take a shortcut.
“Hold on!” Ford shouted. “Tight left turn coming up!”
He slowed the truck to about quarter-speed, though that was still too fast for the narrow doorway. The right side of their vehicle scraped the jamb, ripping away the overhead door tracks.
“What are you doing?” shouted Bozman.
“Shortcut…Maybe…”
Workers leapt out of the path of the big yellow vehicle. Ford tried to stay centered in the factory aisle. Hand carts and stacks of boxes flew up and to one side. Frightened workers dove over railings. A glimpse ahead gave Ford a thrill of validation. There was a doorway at the other end of the aisle. The overhead door began to creep down. The system knew they were in the factory and was trying to close them in.
Ford jabbed the wire loop into the holes to add more speed. The door continued to descend.
“Keep your heads down!” shouted Ford. “We might not…”
The top of the truck’s hopper caught the bottom of the door with a deafening bang. The mass of such a heavy vehicle in motion was no match for the rolling door. It ripped free, and for a moment, covered the hopper. Ford clicked in a tight, right turn, narrowly missing the new street’s concrete wall. The twisted door slid off.
“You’re dangerous!” shouted Bozeman.
“I know!” Ford shouted back. “But this will mess up their plans. Now that we’re…”
Ford’s elation dropped away. The truck began to slow down. He jabbed the wire in the holes several times, but the motors did not rev faster.
“What are you doing?” shouted Bozeman. “Don’t slow down.”
“I’m not doing it,” said Ford. “It should be going faster.”
“It’s the batteries,” said James. “It sounds like they’re running low. This thing will go into homing-mode, trying to conserve battery and get to the next charging station.”
“They’ll catch up with us for sure!” exclaimed Bozeman. “We can walk faster than this.”
“We’ll run,” said Ford. He grabbed the two-wheeler. Ada helped him lower it over the side.
“The patrols will be in vehicles,” said Dena. “We can’t outrun them.”
“Maybe they’ll be busy looking in the wrong place,” said James with a mischievous smile. He turned on his visor and laid it on the floor of the hopper. “They'll be closing in on this big yellow decoy while we're someplace else.”
“Excellent!” said Ford. “If they’re down here looking for this truck, we need to be up on the walkways where they’re not looking. We just passed an intersection when this thing started slowing down. Let’s backtrack a bit to put some distance between us and this thing, then find a way up.”
One by one, everyone dropped off of the slow-moving concrete carrier. James stepped onto the two-wheeler. Ford and Ada each took a handle and began to trot down the dimly lit street.
“There’s a stair up to the walkways.” Bozeman pointed to a rectangle of light ahead of them.
“We can’t take this cart with us,” Ford said to James. “It will look too unusual on the walkways. You’ll have to walk.”
“That’s okay. I figure we can’t run anyhow,” said James. “That would look unusual too. We’ll have to look all slow and shuffly like everyone else.”
The five climbed the stairs slowly, arranged boy, girl, boy, girl. Ford led. Bozeman brought up the rear. The bright sky at the top of the stairs made them all squint. Ford stretched his neck up to peek over the top step.
“A few men are walking the direction we need to go. We ought to be able to blend in. I figure we are only a couple kilometers from the perimeter wall,” Ford said over his shoulder. “Ada, Dena, you know how this works. Heads down. Stay behind the guy ahead of you so the cameras can get a clear view of you.”
Ada and Dena nodded apprehensively. Ford tried to confidently motion that it was time to go. He felt more forced to act than confident.
When a cluster of three men ambled past the stairway fence, Ford took a deep breath and merged in behind them. Ada followed quickly, then slouched and swung her arms slowly as she walked. James, Dena, and Bozeman drifted to the right, so they did not make an obvious group of five.
“It’s hard to walk this slowly,” whispered Ada. “It will take forever to get there.”
“I know,” Ford whispered back. “Let’s get behind those guys ahead of us. Blend in.”
As Ford moved in to walk behind a tall man in gray, the worker beside him glanced back. Ford kept his head down, avoiding eye contact. When the man resumed looking at the ground ahead of himself, Ford let out a silent sigh. Moving only his eyes, he scanned around to assess their situation. Two more men came out of an alleyway and began walking behind Ada.
Ford stole a quick look back. Ada glanced up at him with wide, worried eyes. The men behind her did not seem to be taking any notice: just shuffling along with their heads down. Ford swallowed hard, nonetheless. A quick peek over his left shoulder revealed that a pair of grays had formed up behind Bozeman too.
When they passed another stairwell, more workers emerged, walking beside Ford and Ada. Ford could see the intersection at which they would turn left. Could they keep up their pretense of being harmless workers en route to their jobs? Perhaps the men around them would drift away toward their own workplaces.
Ford could hear some murmuring from behind Ada. A quick glance back revealed the two men were exchanging guttural words too soft to make out.
I don’t like this. We need to get out of this pack. Ford pretended to scratch his back but was gesturing for Ada to follow him.
Ford picked up his pace a bit to get ahead of the man beside him. Ada kept close behind. Ford maintained a slightly faster shuffling gait to put more distance between them and their former pack. When he thought they should be far enough ahead that he could risk a whisper to Ada, he looked back.
The pack was still only a few meters back. A cold shudder rippled down Ford's back. He added a bit more speed to his pace. Without looking, he could tell that the group picked up their pace to match his.
Ada gasped. Ford turned to see that a man had moved into position beside her.
He’s walking pretty fast for a worker.
The man bent forward several times, trying to get a look at Ada’s face. She turned away each time.
Another shudder ran down Ford’s back. They’re being directed to look for us.
The intersection was just forty meters ahead. Two more men had joined their cluster. There were too many. Ford imagined that he could fight a few of them off with his knife, but if a couple of them grabbed Ada and she could not get away…
Ford reached his hand back and grabbed Ada’s hand. “Run!” Several of the men reached out for Ada, but Ford pulled her clear.
Running put an end to their pretense of being average workers. Their only hope now was to run faster than the grays and reach the wall before them.
What about Bozeman? Ford stole a quick look over his shoulder.
Bozeman, Dena, and James had begun running too. Bozeman turned to confront his pursuers, knife drawn. Dena and James ran a few more steps before stopping. Bozeman slashed at the first man, the blade raking across the man’s chest and bicep. The stricken man dropped and rolled. The other grays stopped and stared at the sight of blood.
“Keep running!” Bozeman shouted.
Ford and Ada each took one of James' hands and resumed running as fast as they could manage. When they rounded the intersection corner, a line of twenty men had formed across the walkway. They were not advancing but simply preventing their escape. Over their heads, Ford could see the scaffolding of the wall construction site. They were within sight of the city’s wall.
“Control is directing these men,” declared Dena.
“I figured!” Ford looked up one street and the other, trying to assess the best way around the blockage. Men in gray were running down each side street toward them.
(end chapter 21)
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Post by mic on Jan 22, 2021 15:57:09 GMT -6
Chapter 22 – Gamble (part 1)
Ford wondered if they could get to the wall before all routes were blocked. Down the opposite street, a glimpse of yellow and blue caught Ford’s eye.
I know those three signs. It’s the same tram station where we…
“This way,” shouted Ford. “I know a way.” He pulled on James’ hand to turn him around. Ada looked confused but helped and resumed running.
“You’re going back toward the city’s center,” shouted Bozeman. He ran, nonetheless, with Dena running beside him.
The twenty men in gray stood motionless for several long moments before running after them. Ford’s group had a thirty, or forty-meter head start.
“What are you doing?” demanded Bozeman. “You want them to catch us?”
“No. We need to disappear again,” said Ford. “I have an idea.”
“A tram station?” asked James. “They can trap us easy in a tunnel.”
“This one has an option,” said Ford. He ushered James, Dena, and Ada down the stairs.
“Boze, help me block this entrance.” Ford pulled at the signposts. Bozeman threw his weight against the scaffolding. The connectors creaked and snapped. The two men pulled a tangle of metal tubing and sign panels down into the stairway opening.
“Keep going,” urged Ford. “Down to the landing.”
Half a dozen bewildered men who were waiting for the next tram stared at the refugees as they rushed down the stairs. Ford could see the other stairway rising behind the men.
“We have to chase them away,” Ford said to Bozeman. “Let’s attack like Dogs!”
Bozeman's eyes lit up. He held his knife high over his head, turned toward the puzzled workers, and screamed. Ford joined him. They ran at the grays, blades held high, shouting like the wild men in Hater videos. The six workers turned and scrambled past each other to get up the other stairway.
“They won’t stay gone long,” said James.
“They don’t need to,” said Ford, returning his knife to its sheath. “Just long enough for us to get into the tunnel. They won’t know which way we went.”
“50/50 isn’t much to guess,” said Dena. “Either inbound or outbound.”
“Wait,” said Bozeman. “I remember this station. Are you trying to get to that hole in the ceiling?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“We can think about that after we've disappeared inside the hole.” That was as far as Ford had formulated his plan. They needed to disappear from all cameras long enough to catch their breath and develop another plan. They were so close to the outer wall. They needed time to think.
“We have to take out these cameras first,” said Bozeman. “Still got your pot of black?”
“I do.” Bozeman smudged black paint over one camera. Ford wiped a thick layer over the other camera’s lens.
Ford and Bozeman helped James down from the platform to the gritty track floor.
“This way, quickly, before others come down looking for us.”
The glow of the station lights carried a little way down the tunnel, but Ford pulled out his luminar when the light got too dim. The sound of banging metal and voices echoed through the tunnel behind them.
“How far?” asked Ada. “It sounds like they’ll be coming soon.”
“I know, I know.” Ford held his luminar over his head. How far had they walked after climbing down? He recalled looping the cable sheath over a piece of conduit. Was it still there, or had a passing tram ripped it away?
“Look for a strip of black plastic hanging from a conduit on the right wall,” Ford said.
“What. Like that?” Dena pointed ahead.
“I don't see any…no, wait. Yes. That's it!” Ford ran up to the strip hanging on the wall. He tugged until it pulled free, hanging straight up to a black square hole in a dark ceiling.
“Now we have to climb up there as quickly as we can.”
“Quickly?” James asked.
“I'm getting exhausted,” said Dena. “I'm not sure I could do it at all, let alone quickly.”
“Boze, you go up first. You can help pull them up. I’ll give them as much boost as I can from down here.”
Without comment, Bozeman grabbed the dull black strap and inch-wormed his way up to the hole. When he climbed in, he kicked out a shower of gravel and sand. Everyone had to look away.
“Okay. Ready,” called Bozeman.
“Grab the strap with both hands,” Ford instructed Ada. “Wrap it around one leg and around your foot like this. Hold on tight.” He knelt to allow Ada a step-up. She steadied herself with the strip as she stepped onto his shoulder. Bozeman took up the slack as Ford straightened up unsteadily. Ford grabbed Ada's ankles and pushed her as high as he could.
Bozeman's grunts could be heard over the scrape of the strap against the edge of the hole. When Ada was within reach of the rim, she let go with one hand and pulled. After a few awkward kicks and Bozeman pulling on her coveralls, she disappeared into the black.
The voices echoed louder down the tunnel.
“Dena, when you’re up there, you and Ada will have to help Bozeman pull up James, okay?”
Dena nodded with a very reluctant expression on her face. Her ascent was the same as Ada’s. When the strap was tossed down again, it was James’ turn. Ford’s arms and legs quivered as he pushed.
As three pairs of hands reached down from the hole to pull James inside, a faint glow appeared on the tunnel walls. The sound of voices was louder.
“Hurry!” whispered Ford. The strap coiled down, hitting him in the head. He jumped to grab the strap. Hand over hand, he pulled himself up as quickly as his aching muscles would allow. The four inside the hole were pulling up on the strap up too.
Ford let out a long, exhausted sigh as he rolled onto the concrete floor of the conduit chase. The glow of the approaching search party's lights shown up through the hole brightly enough to illuminate Ada's worried face. Bozeman quietly pulled the last of the plastic strap up through the hole. In the indirect light, Ford spotted a square corner behind Ada.
“Hey,” Ford whispered. “It’s the cover for this hole.” He gestured for others to help move it into place as silently as possible. With the heavy plastic cover lowered into place, the conduit chase to totally dark, except for four dots of light from the empty bolt holes. No one dared move.
The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled voices rose through the cover. Ford could not make out their words, but from their tone, they sounded skeptical that the refugees had gone this direction. Ford allowed himself to breathe only shallow breaths until the sound of voices and footsteps faded.
“Whew,” Bozeman blew out a big sigh. “That was far too close.”
“But it worked,” said James. “I’d say we disappeared.”
“I’m glad we’re not being chased,” said Ada softly.
“First, we catch our breath and rest a bit,” said Ford.
“I could use a rest,” said Dena, “but then what?”
“Well, we’re not that far from the perimeter wall,” offered Bozeman. “We have to be able to cover that short distance. Maybe we wait for the searchers to look farther and farther away, then make our move. If we’re quick…”
“I don’t know if I can do quick,” James said in a downbeat tone.
“I just got an idea,” said Ford. “This cable chase ran under that blackshirt air node, remember?”
“Why would we willingly travel toward blackshirts?” exclaimed Bozeman.
“There was that lifter in the hangar,” said Ford. “What if we could take it and fly out over the wall?”
“There are a million reasons not to do such a stupid plan,” snorted Bozeman. “That lifter might not even be there.”
“It’s only been a couple days,” countered Ford, “and you took the server uplink out of it. You have it in your backpack.”
“Have you ever flown one of those?”
“No, but they fly themselves, don’t they? Just give them the commands?”
“It probably doesn’t run,” said Bozeman. “It was in that hangar for repairs.”
“I asked that guard if it was ready, remember that?”
“He didn’t say it was ready to fly.”
“He didn’t say it wasn’t, either,” retorted Ford. Remembering that lowly blackshirt also reminded Ford of the lifter’s number: 7551. He would need that.
“The cameras!” said Bozeman after a pause. “They’ll see us, and that place is crawling with blackshirts. We won’t get thirty yards…”
“How much do you want to bet the blackshirts are all out looking for us?”
After a long pause, Dena said, “They probably will have mobilized all available units.”
“I still say it’s a crazy idea,” said Bozeman, folding his arms across his chest.
“I know it is,” said Ford. “It's risky, but it's worth a try. With everyone out looking for us, are our chances of running to the wall that much better? If my idea works, we can get over the wall and deep into The Outside before anyone can stop us.”
“That’s a big if,” said Bozeman. “What if it doesn’t work? What then?”
“Okay, what about this? We follow this chase back to the hangar. We can peek up from the cable cover in the corner and see if the lifter is still there. If it’s gone, we’ve risked nothing, and we're back to square one in coming up with another plan.”
“And if it is there?”
“I can run out on my own and see if it will power up. If not, I run back to the tunnel. If it does…”
“We all run and jump inside!” added James.
“Oh, alright. I give up,” said Bozeman. “Let's get going. The sooner you realize your crazy plan won't work, the sooner we can get back to a better plan.”
“Hmm. I counted my steps,” said Ford. “I’ll do that again to get us close to where that cable cover was.”
Ford opened his luminar just enough to create a glow to see the walls. He started walking and counting each left foot step. The others followed.
“We could, maybe, drop back into the tram tunnel,” said Bozeman, “and…”
“I’m trying to count here.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Keep counting. I’ll work on a better plan.”
When Ford reached the number, he stopped. “It should be overhead somewhere along here.” He opened his luminar and waved it back and forth to brighten it. Everyone began scanning sections of the small tunnel’s ceiling.
“I don’t see anything,” said Ada. “Did we go too far?”
“Or not far enough?”
“Boze, use your luminar to look behind us. I’ll look ahead.” The two set off in opposite directions, luminars held high.
“Yup!” said Bozeman. “We passed it. You must have been taking bigger steps this time.”
“Great!” Ford ran up and climbed the big curve of cable that came down from the hangar. The cover was still loose. He pushed it up slowly with the top of his head until his eyes cleared the edge of the opening.
“There's nobody here,” Ford whispered. “That black lifter is still there. I'm going to follow the sidewall to stay beneath the camera on this end. The lifter will hide me from the other camera.”
“Fine, just be quiet about it.”
Ford gently pushed the cover aside and climbed out of the hole. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any personnel he might have missed. He saw no one nor heard any footsteps on the concrete paving.
“I’m going in,” Ford whispered down the hole.
He carefully set the plastic cover aside and crouch-ran along the workbenches that lined the end wall. Ford approached the door using the lifter's forward wing to shield him from the camera's view.
Taking a deep breath, he peered again across the empty paving outside. His voice commands would have to be loud enough to register. Hopefully, no one was nearby.
“Um. 7551 Open Door.” The sudden clank and hiss startled him.
Opening door. Please stand clear, the machine responded in a synthesized male voice.
Ford looked back and the hole in the corner of the room. Bozeman's head stood above the edge. Ford nodded, smiled, and pointed approvingly at the rising door. Bozeman gave a skeptical half shake of his head. With his finger, he drew circles in the air above his head.
I know, I know. Opening the door doesn’t tell us much. I need to see if it can fly. Ford climbed inside.
“7551. Can you fly?”
Command unclear. Restate.
“Oh, um…7551…um…flight motors status?”
Command unclear. Restate.
Ford leaned out of the door and motioned for Bozeman to come inside the lifter. It took some insistence, but Bozeman finally acquiesced and ran to the open door.
“What? What’s the matter?” Bozeman whispered.
“I don’t know what to say to this thing,” said Ford. “I got the door open, but now what? Take a seat up here. You’ve been on lots more flights than I have. You tell it what to do. It’s number is 7551.”
Bozeman stared at the floor for a few moments, trying to recall what their foreman had said. “I don’t remember 99 ever asking our lifters anything. They didn’t talk like this one. He just gave commands. Here, let’s try this. 7551 Check uplink status.”
The machine said nothing.
“7551. Check Uplink Status,” Bozeman repeated louder.
The machine remained silent.
“What? Why isn’t it working?” Ford asked.
“I don’t know,” said Bozeman. “I’m no expert on these things. I was just a passenger listening in. You got the door to open. Maybe it likes you.”
“It likes me?” Ford sputtered. “That’s stupid. Machines don’t like anybody.”
“Call it whatever you want. Maybe it voice-printed on you back when you were wearing 99's visor. Figure's you're an authorized voice, or something. Does that sound better? Now, give it a try.”
“Fine,” Ford said. “7551. Check Uplink Status.”
Uplink failure. Status unavailable.
“There, ya see? It likes you, but not me,” said Bozeman.
Ford could only shake his head. “Whatever. What would 99 command to start a trip?”
Bozeman stared at the wall. “Hold on. I remember him testing it when he didn't think the mechanics had finished some repairs. He said…um, he said…' controls check' and then something like 'lift on, power nominal' or 'rotation forward ten degrees' and stuff like that.”
“Okay. Let’s try that,” said Ford. He cleared his throat. “7551. Controls check, lift on, power nominal.”
Lift fans on, power nominal.
The four sets of fan blades began to spin slowly within the horizontal rings, creating a low hum. The gentle downward flow of air caused bits of dust and tiny scraps of paper to swirl up from the floor.
“Woo hoo!” hooted Bozeman before realizing his outburst had been loud. He covered his mouth with his hands and looked through the windshield.
“What did 99 say to start a trip?” Ford asked.
“Not much. He would just state the trip ID number, and the machine would do the rest.”
“Well, that’s no good. We have no trip ID number.”
“You were all about the manual mode with that concrete carrier,” said Bozeman. “Maybe these things have a manual mode too.” He began searching the walls and floor for access panels.
Ford cringed. His driving of the concrete carrier was clumsy at best. Bad driving meant scraping the walls. Failures at flying could be deadly. Far better to let it fly itself as much as possible. He recalled hearing 99 use words like ‘rise’ and ‘descend.’
“7551. Rise to ten centimeters.” Ford commanded.
Enclosed space. No flight commands accepted.
“Hey. Maybe that means it can fly,” said Bozeman. “See if you can get it outside.”
Ford took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. If he got the lifter outside of the hangar, someone was sure to see it. If the thing would not fly, they were trapped in a blackshirt base.
“Okay,” said Ford, after a hard swallow. “If it will fly, we can wave the others aboard. If not, they’re safer in the tunnel. You and I should run the other way: toward the gate, as a diversion.”
“So far, so good,” said Bozeman. He nodded his approval. “Remember. It likes you.”
“7551. Roll out to take-off position.” Ford could only guess at what wording was proper.
Acquiring take-off position. The fans revved, and the rings tipped forward. The lifter began to roll toward the open wall of the hangar.
“This is great!” Bozeman clapped Ford on the shoulder.
“I sure hope it works. There’s no hiding all this noise.”
The lifter rolled out into the daylight, the fan rings wobbling at the ends of the wings as the wheels crossed the uneven pavement. The fan noise was less intrusive once they were in the open area.
“7551. Rise to ten centimeters,” Ford commanded.
Door open. No flight commands accepted.
“That makes sense, I guess,” said Bozeman. “But it doesn’t prove this thing can fly.”
“It didn’t say it couldn’t fly. It just could fly with the door open,” said Ford.
“It didn’t say that, exactly,” countered Bozeman.
“Wave to the others. We’ve got to go for it. This might be our only chance. We’re out here in the open.” ---
(end chapter 22, part 1)
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Post by sniper69 on Jan 22, 2021 18:22:56 GMT -6
Mic thank you for the latest chapters. I'm on the edge of my seat and keep telling myself I need to wait until the next chapter.
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Post by solo on Jan 22, 2021 23:55:30 GMT -6
Hey Mic,
Welcome back. I missed this one somehow and read it all in one setting. Excellent story in an Aldous Huxley Brave New World sort of way... Keep it up man, you skill is top notch!
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