The Wilted Flower District

by Martin Niewood

  In planning the trip, we considered various modes of travel: public transit, driving ourselves or paying a driver. Light Rail or LR as everyone called it was the fastest way to move around a city that was perpetually gridlocked in grueling traffic jams. The introduction of driverless cars made matters worse because now there were more cars on the road but driving was out of the question for us because even if we had been willing to fight the freeway, neither Weylin nor I had a car, driverless or otherwise.

  Most people thought that with the invention of PAVs or personal aerial vehicles that no longer needed traditional roads things would improve but after a few years of transportation chaos, PAVs were outlawed for civilian use and reserved for law enforcement and first responders. The skies were crowded with officially sanctioned PAVs competing for airspace with mail and delivery drones, but that didn’t deter the occasional idiot from trying to drive one of those things and crashing into some poor person’s home. Taking a taxi or using a ride sharing app were the only other alternatives but mom often tracked our A2B bands and would see the expenditures clicking across her own band and know that something was up. Ultimately, we decided that public transit was our only viable option.

  Having decided to cut school, I sent a message to the academy notifying them that we would not be in class today. Fortunately, I had created an app on my band that allowed me to ghost my mom’s A2B band, making the communication appear to have come from her. Otherwise, the academy would have contacted her directly, inquiring about our whereabouts. Worse yet, if a parent or guardian was unaware of a student’s absence, it was the standard operating procedure for officials to automatically launch a search and issue an alert via VTS, Fairhaven’s visual tracking system. Mom’s communications terminal at home was password protected, and she was fastidious with protecting her employer’s information as well as changing her passwords frequently; however, she kept the pins for the household devices in a gold address book in an unlocked desk drawer.

  Buttoning his jacket, Weylin tapped me on the back, “It’s time. Are you ready?” I nodded and walking side by side, we made our way to the LR station a few blocks from our house.

  With mountains to the west, the forest to the north and the sea to the south and east, Fairhaven was a thriving port city. It was actually on a peninsula as beyond the forest lay the Northern Shore but the sea there was treacherous and generally avoided by the nautical traffic that frequented the city’s southern and eastern ports. Fairhaven was more a collection of diverse neighborhoods than a fully assimilated municipality. All of the districts surrounded Downtown Fairhaven, and except for the Pink Serpentine District, all were pleasant, each with its own identity. Some like the Estates in the southern part of the city were posh with rolling lawns and historic houses; others further east like the Landings were ultra-modern with seaside lofts and boat slips. The University City District just north of Downtown boasted spectacular schools, museums, and libraries while its thousands of residents lived in modest, high-rise apartments. Our neighborhood on the western end of town was known as the Wilted Flower District. “The Wilt,” as it was now known was home to citizens of all income levels and encompassed a mixture of architectural styles and a wide variety of community parks. My favorite was Pearl Park, located just behind our building, with its winding paths and butterfly gardens. The people of each district generally identified with the area in which they lived and rarely moved far away from it.

  Each district had its own history, and ours was no different. When I was very young, Meadow told me that many years ago after war destroyed a small town many miles west of here, some of the survivors made their way to Fairhaven. After surviving, the arduous journey across the Shimmering Desert and the Western Mountains these people settled in the area that came to be known as the Wilted Flower District, so called after the exhausted refugees who arrived there looking like “wilted flowers, lost in the breeze.” I never knew if it was true, but the story stuck with me because that day Meadow had taken me to Pearl Park and I had picked wildflowers for her, but they started to wilt almost immediately. Seeing that I was upset, she smiled. Putting her arm around me, she whispered, “Don’t worry; this world is full of magic. If you believe, nothing is impossible.” Then holding her hand over the wilted flowers, she brought them back to life. It was like magic.

  Moving through the now vibrant Wilt as we made our way to the station, I was distracted by the energy of the area with its outdoor markets and unconcerned pedestrians that spilled from the sidewalk into the street. Almost everyone bought everyday essentials on their A2B bands and collected their drone delivered purchases on the delivery pads outside their front doors or on their rooftop ports, but these street vendors offered the unusual, the exotic and occasionally the illegal. The music and games that sprung up around these markets gave them a carnival atmosphere, and I loved it. Not everyone was there to shop. Many of the people just sat and sipped coffee or tea at the sidewalk cafes or window-shopped for clothes and trinkets at vendors’ tables. As a notorious people watcher, examining others from afar fascinated me although Deena would say that I watched others to avoid dealing with my own issues. I didn’t care; I found it entertaining. I loved Deena, but she could be trying at times, especially when she transformed into a walking talking self-improvement manual.

  Once on the platform, we descended the stairs into the busy station. Two trains pulled up as we touched the last step and hurried towards the inbound train. Other sections of Fairhaven had upgraded LR facilities, but trains that ran through this station were at least 30 years old. Pushing our way onto the overcrowded car, the doors miraculously closed behind us, and we lurched forward. With nothing to hold onto, I clung to Weylin as we began the monotonous series of stops before reaching our destination. The LR was always crowded as it was publicly funded and therefore free for riders. I noticed that many of the passengers seemed permanently ensconced in their seats, perhaps because even in a city as prosperous as Fairhaven there were people who had nowhere else to go and the LR offered shelter and warmth.

  Advertisements for various products including Cerpen Pharmaceutical’s new and improved synthetic Elsyn as well as its infant formula specifically tailored to the newborn moral’s nutritional needs were scattered around the car alongside offers of investment advice from financial planners and promises from dietary supplements to lose that unwanted weight in days, not months.

  Hitting a curve, the car shook, and I gripped Weylin’s shirt almost ripping it. Weylin wasn’t like me. He was now laser focused on the task. We were different that way. My mind would often drift despite the circumstances, but once he came to grips with a problem, he needed to confront it before moving onto the next thing.

  Swaying back and forth through several more stops Weylin looked over at me. I had managed to grab onto one of the poles in the middle of the car a few feet away from him. As we approached the Oakmont station, Weylin reached out and tapped my arm, “We get off at the next stop.” With that, he returned his attention to the blinking signal lights swirling passed the car’s dirty windows.

  When the LR stopped at Memorial Station, there was a mad rush of people boarding and disembarking the train causing a sort of tug of war effect at each of the doors. We learned in school that Memorial Station was named for the valiant preter and mortal soldiers who fought side by side defending Fairhaven from foreign aggression during the great millennial invasion. Back in a time when resources were scarce before the technological advances in agriculture, border clashes were common as nations fought each other competing for limited resources to feed their populations. In one such battle, thousands of Fairhaven’s soldiers lost their lives protecting our reserves and preserving our freedom. It was their sacrifice that made possible the peace and prosperity that we enjoyed today.

  Weylin barreled through the crowd holding me by the arm, dragging me along. Memorial Station was far busier than the others were most likely because of its central location for numerous government and corpora
te offices as well as serving as an interchange for several other train lines. Heading towards the surface on the long escalator, my eyes had to readjust to the light. There was something dwarfing about emerging from the underground and standing before these majestic buildings that made you respect their significance and appreciate how far the Domain had come in a relatively short period.

  One building stood out among the rest with its one hundred twenty stories. Griff Glass was on a completely different level towering above its neighbors in structure and beauty. Visible from everywhere in the city, it was comprised solely of glass and steel that sparkled in the sunlight. Periodically across the face of the building the head of a griffin appeared, looking down and watching over all of Fairhaven.

  Following behind Weylin, we crossed Memorial Square with thousands of people until reaching the Fairprize Electronics Building, where my mom worked and entering it through its grand archway. The lobby had high ceilings, commercially grey walls, and shiny marble floors. Weylin approached the virtual directory, trying to remember which floor mom worked on. Looking around, I noticed a small café to the right and a bank of elevators to the left. Our first obstacle stood waiting in front of the elevators — a security desk with uniformed guards.

  Touching the bottom of his elbow, I tried discreetly to get his attention, while the security guards watched us. Because of multiple top-secret government funded research and development contracts that the company held, security was tight. My bright red jacket and Weylin’s white sneakers stood out against a background of sophisticated business attire. The two of us looked grossly out of place, and I was starting to think that we hadn’t completely thought this plan through. “Weylin, how exactly are we going to get up to her office if we don’t have passes or aren’t on any lists?”

  “That’s easy,” Weylin responded walking over to the security desk with a smile and addressed one of the uniformed guards with balding hair and a salt and pepper mustache, “Pablo, how’s it going? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  The guard stood and leaned over the desk revealing his spreading midsection. His eyes blinked several times trying to make the connection before his demeanor slowing changed and a smile spread across his face. “Weylin? What happened to the chubby little kid I remember?” Pablo reached over and smacked Weylin’s arm. “Look at you now; you look like an athlete,” he chuckled.

  “Yeah, it’s been a long time. How’s the family?” Weylin asked, Is your daughter, Theresa, still at university?”

  “Graduated last year with honors. She just got married.” Pablo beamed, showing Weylin a photo of the bride on his A2B band. “They’re on their honeymoon.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Weylin responded.

  “Yes, I agree,” Pablo answered still smiling broadly, as he switched off the band. “And you? We miss seeing you; it’s been too long. Well anyway, you here to see your mother? Yeah? Sure. Her office moved up a floor. She’s on 77 now. It seems like yesterday when she was in charge of security for the place but look at her now. What an overachiever,” Pablo jested. “She didn’t tell me that you were stopping by. I’m sorry I would have had a pass made for you.”

  “It was sort of a last-minute thing but do you think we could pop up to see her?” Weylin asked.

  “Well,” lowering his voice as he leaned forward, Pablo said, “I’m not supposed to let anybody in without a pass so don’t tell anyone.” Spotting me standing there silently beside Weylin, he continued in a more audible tone, “I’m sorry we’ve never had the pleasure. Are you Weylin’s girlfriend? If so you’re a lucky girl,” nudging Weylin’s elbow.

  Awkwardly I smiled, “No, I’m Violet.”

  Pablo face lit up connecting the dots, “Ivy talks about you all the time. It’s great to meet you in person finally. Follow me.” Pablo walked towards the gates and swiped his A2B band, “Go ahead. Have fun and tell your mother I said hi.”

  Weylin and I walked through the gates and towards the elevators. Hopping onto an empty one, I stared at Weylin as he pressed the elevator button for the 66th floor. As the doors closed, I asked, “Hey didn’t he say 77?”

  “We’re not going there,”

  “So many questions,” I mumbled shaking my head.

  Without me asking, he started to spit out the answers. “Mom might be on 77, but the equipment we need is on 66. I just checked it on the directory.” After a few seconds, he continued, “When we were younger Ophelia, and I used to come here sometimes with my dad and surprise mom. We’d go out to lunch, or sometimes mom and dad would take us to the park and push us on the swings or buy us ice cream. We would wait for mom down in the lobby, and that’s how I met Pablo. After my dad died, Ophelia and I slipped away and came down here occasionally, but after she went missing, I stopped coming altogether.”

  “Oh, I never knew that.” Hearing Weylin talk about these trips hurt me on a small level. It was like there were two layers to our family: one in which I was included and another that was Ivy’s real family. It’s true that I wasn’t technically related by blood, but I had always considered myself a real member of the family. It had never dawned on me what a burden it must have been on mom to take me in after Meadow passed. When the elevator doors opened, I felt like a different person just like that. It didn’t detract from the love and appreciation I had for them, but I realized that I was a little more alone than I thought.

  Weylin signaled with his finger to follow him through the maze of shelves and hardware. The lighting was dark blue, and it was a technologic field of endless servers, computers, and equipment that I didn’t recognize. He headed for a room in the back but saw there was a keypad with added security and we were unable to get in. Looking through the glass window, he glanced around at the unique items inside.

  “That’s where they keep the really good stuff,” Weylin said.

  “You seem to know your way around. Were you here before?”

  “Yeah, with mom a few times but some of the newer stuff in that room is seriously state of the art.”

  “How are we going to get in then?” I responded, folding my arms.

  “We don’t need to get in I was just checking it out.” Pointing to the table, “Everything we need is right here.”

  Picking up what appeared to be classic sunglasses, “These are all we need?” I asked skeptically.

  “These aren’t by any means top of the line, but they will get us where we need to go,” Weylin said picking up a pair. “All you have to do is tap your A2B band against the blue dot on the frame, and it will work. The only issue with these older models is that you eat up the battery quickly – we probably have about 5 minutes tops.”

  Picking up the glasses and doing as Weylin instructed, I was taken miles up above the city flying in the clouds. The feeling of complete immersion set in and for a brief moment, I thought I was falling. Looking down at the city below, I had an unbelievable sense of freedom. Using my hand, I extended my banded wrist forward in the direction of the Northern Shore. Once there, I slowly tilted my A2B band and landed safely on the ground. I could feel the breeze against my skin and smell the ocean air. Then the horror returned of that unfortunate evening, and I remembered every detail.

  Walking through the long grey grass, I approached the police tape surrounding the area, searching for any clue that would present itself but there was nothing. There was no sign that an event had ever occurred as the police had to remove everything from the scene, including the Elsyn that had been growing not far from the mouth of the cave. The cave entrance was submerged in water, and I bent down to touch it. Running my hand through the current, I felt water slipping through my fingers. Suddenly, a red light began to flash across my eyes, and I felt someone grab me. Looking around I didn’t see anyone and immediately realized that the intrusion wasn’t from the virtual world. Removing my glasses, I saw a fiery explosion through the window. The thundering blasts and screams echoed throughout the Memorial Square complex, and I tossed my glasses on the table.

&
nbsp; “We need to get out of here,” Weylin shouted. “There has been some kind of explosion in the Griff Glass building.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  We considered taking the elevator to reach the ground floor faster but decided it was safer to use the stairs. Opening the door, we were overwhelmed by a mad crush of people, toppling over one another, scrambling to reach the street. Panic rebounded against the walls, and flashing white lights pinged off the security beacons. Pressing ourselves into the crowd, Weylin grabbed my arm, and we were pushed and pulled down flight after flight until we finally reached the ground floor lobby. We heard the second explosion as we spilled out of the stairwell.

  Unsure where the blast was coming from everyone ducked for cover, then chaos overtook the crowd as people charged, trying to escape through the main entrance. The human stampede pushed toward the door, knocking many to the ground and creating a blockade. Weylin spotted Pablo desperately trying to divert some of the crowd to a fire exit and rushing over we made it out to the street where the situation was worse. First responders were heading towards Griff Glass while civilians were trying to find loved ones or get clear. Glass shards, metal rods, and various other debris fell from the sky pummeling Memorial Square with deadly missiles while pedestrians fled and dust billowed high into the sky.

  It was mass chaos, but people were trying to help each other to the extent that they could. A young couple was running just in front of us when the woman collapsed after being struck with flying debris from the wreckage. Weylin and I, following very closely behind them fell to the ground as well. I landed right behind the bleeding woman. A glass shard had struck her in the thigh and blood from her leg shot several inches into the air. Her husband or friend pulled the shard from her leg, but the bleeding was intense. Using his belt, the woman’s companion attempted to secure a tourniquet to stop the flow of blood on the now unconscious woman, but he was clearly overcome by emotion and having some difficulty. Fortunately, I was able to reach over and by enabling my preter ability, stop the flow of blood by closing the wound. He thanked me for my help before lifting her over his shoulder and running away from the exploding building.