Sky City (The Rise of an Orphan)

by RD Hale

  'At over one hundred miles an hour, if we take it off cruise control,' I exaggerate ever-so-slightly. 'Watch this.'

  Wild-haired heads tilt back in amazement as slumdogs ascend, gladly exploiting the opportunity to impress. And anyone who believes females are interested in what is on the inside is sorely mistaken. The pointing girls and then the hill itself are slowly devoured by rooftops until all that remains is a green speck amongst scattered tiles.

  'Brrr, how do you close the windows on this thing?' Killow asks as we pass through a surprisingly transparent cloud and a chilly breeze enters the cockpit.

  'Er, windows close... Well they're not voice activated.'

  Leaning out, I peer down and the view is far from scenic but the perspective itself is enough to transform the ugly into the inspiring. On this humbling scale Auster hill is reduced to Auster mole-hill, the trees to shrubs, the river to a trickle, the apartment blocks to lego bricks and the statue to a figurine but as we drift among low-lying clouds the omnipresent towers are unchanged.

  During several minutes of reverie I briefly forgot about the girls we are trying to impress so I push the height control lever down to ensure we do not lose them. Not that there is a realistic possibility of them wandering away from lads with a flying machine. We descend until the landscape bulges into three dimensions like a living pop-up book and animated specks grow to reveal the grins of our clapping fans.

  'Wow, that was so frosty! Can we have a turn?' one of the girls asks, her face shrouded by tar vapours.

  'Okay, but I can only take one of you at a time. Killow, I'm afraid you're excess baggage.' I stare expectantly but the midget fails to take the hint. 'Get out, will ya.'

  'But why m... alright, but it's my turn next.'

  My co-pilot clambers out the Delos Pod and yaps with skinny-legged girls swathed in cigarette smoke who have intentionally slutty sex appeal and are ripe for the picking. Killow confidently offers his hand to them one by one and it would seem the cocky short arse has grown in stature, thanks to my financial input.

  An arm bearing a spiked leather wrist-band reaches into the Delos Pod. Then a bangable girl with messy blonde hair, a pierced bottom lip and dark eye-liner emphasising her vacantness climbs aboard. I take off with high hopes of casual intimacy, because there is no way I am letting another girl off the hook for the sake of one who has been the focus of wasted affection for too long.

  'Wew, we're floating in a bubble into the sky and we can only hope it doesn't pop!' The girl's chuckle is like a wordless whisper. 'I'm Lexi by the way.'

  Fearful my trembling voice may betray the aura I would like to command, I opt to remain strong and silent until my nerves settle. We ascend this impractical real estate, passing a couple of out of place satellite dishes amongst uneven rooftops, which appear to be gradually sliding like a filthy glacier. A plume of steam coming from an open window engulfs our cockpit and overhanging branches scratch the pod.

  'Careful, there's a nest with baby birds and we don't wanna upset their mammy. She might fly in and peck us!' Lexi says and I adjust my steering, almost hitting cables in the process.

  'People have electricity here? We have to use our own power supply, this is one upmarket slum,' I remark.

  'You think this is upmarket? Really? Hardly anyone has wiring so the power is as good as useless. Ya see that there? That's our well. An outbreak of waterborne disease killed a few hundred last year. After we filter the water we boil the shit out of it now, just to make sure,' Lexi explains.

  'Not as cosy as it looks then?'

  'Yeah, it's a crappy place to live, even by slum standards. It's not all bad though, I still have both parents and they have jobs in a clothing factory. I tried as well but they sacked me last week, the stinkbags!

  I told the boss I needed a break because it was tiring ya know, my fingers hurt. He told me I was lazy so I told him he was a fat, bald-headed bastard who pervs over all the girls! He does all the time, touching them up when he thinks no-one's looking. Some of them are young 'uns as well. He was always putting his arm around me, if my brothers knew...

  Anyways, I better get a job quick. My parents said if I don't, I'm out on my own. They can't feed me, I'm just a burden.'

  'Still stuck with ya family, eh? They're the real burden. Me and my friends are orphans, but we're doing better than pretty much everyone around here. I mean we're not rich or anything, but we stand on our own feet. We don't have anyone telling us we can't or shouldn't, so we do as we please. I'm surprised you haven't left.'

  'Nah, in a weird way I'm attached to them. I can't stand them most of the time but I still care. It doesn't make sense really.'

  'I get what you mean. Only one of the seven lunatics I live with is technically family, but there's no getting rid of the others so I guess our situations aren't too different. So how many of you are there?' I ask.

  'Well my eldest brother Eric died of some illness when he was little, but the rest of us have been pretty lucky. Six out of seven, that's good going I reckon. They usually manage to bring home a few credits busking, guarding cars, that sort of thing, but it's a nightmare sharing a house with them. I try to stay anywhere but home. Ya know what I mean?'

  Lexi and I exchange insecure glances during our ascent, neither wanting to hold the other's gaze for too long, because losing your cool is a teenage sin and for some bizarre reason, brooding is considered sexier than friendliness. I picture what she looks like in her natural state because there is a prettiness to her features hidden somewhere beneath her punkish facade. But she appears to carry a permanent sadness, eyes crying without tears. A broken spirit who paradoxically speaks weary in tone, but energetic in her output of words.

  'But you'll take a ride with a total stranger?' I reply after a distracted pause.

  'Well yeah, when that total stranger has a flying car! So where you from? You can't still be in the slums with a car like this, can you?'

  'Er, I'm from the riverside. It's no better than this place really.'

  'Any place is better than this place,' Lexi insists.

  'That's how everyone who lives in a slum feels, but it's not all bad. Ya gotta make sure ya glass is half full,' I suggest.

  'You mean beer? Yeah, I suppose that helps.'

  Our climb to the summit of the hill is like an ascent by cable car without the cable and Lexi grips the window frame as we look down on our subhuman society. It is tempting to pass judgement when detached from this disorienting town which looks like it could be swept away by heavy rainfall, because if it was it would not be much of a loss.

  'Must get slippy when it rains!' I chuckle, picturing squealing children losing footing and getting swept away, splashing into puddles at the foot of the hill.

  'It can be a nightmare in a storm. Mud is washed down, finds its way into everything. And homes have collapsed before, that's why they're pretty well built, mostly bricks and cement now. We taught each other how to do it. Self-help, it's pretty impressive I think.'

  Ascending until the altimeter reads one mile, we turn towards the far from scenic coastline which is deceptively attractive from this distance because the details of the cluttered shoreline and neglected beachside properties remain hidden: the haunts of peasant fisherman in patched up rowing boats that somehow stay afloat when they scrimp for the remaining fish and crustaceans in a barren sea. It is tempting to fly over the ocean and journey to a new land, but something tells me this aircraft would not last the journey.

  'Wew, I can see places I didn't know existed. Where'd you get this thing from?' Lexi talks in a raised voice due to turbulence as her head pokes out the window and her arm dangles free.

  'I have my contacts,' I reply to her hair-swaying reflection in the windscreen.

  'So you bought it? How much did it cost?'

  'Three hard-earned Gs.'

  'Really, where'd a lad like you get that many credits? You a drug dealer or something?'

  'Nah, but my employer is a wealthy man and he pays me to do dange
rous things.'

  'Whoa, like what?' Lexi gasps.

  'Can't really tell you for your own safety, but any girl who sticks close to me won't be going hungry.'

  Lexi's teeth glint as she pulls her windswept hair in from the window and she leers with a subtle, but sanguine deviance. My mediocre looks have unquestionably improved due to the irresistible combination of wealth and danger and I hold up my wallet to further reel her in. She is instantly transfixed by the peeking notes so I hand her twenty credits which she snatches without hesitation.

  'There ya go. Stop ya parents complaining and put some flesh on ya bones.'

  'Wow, that's really kind. You never told me your name.'

  'Arturo, you've probably heard of me.'

  'Doesn't sound familiar, but nice to meet you, Arturo. When slum dogs earn your kind of money, they tend to live it up in old town, being all flash with girls flocking around them. So what are you really doing, hanging round this place?'

  'Taking a ride with a pretty punk.'

  Lexi blushes with a shoulder covering her cheek but piercing eyes betray her pretence of coyness. My gaze strays towards her teasingly opened shirt buttons as I fantasize about unspeakable things; ready to abandon any lingering hope of a happy ending to this miserable fairy tale. It is time for the played to become the player.

  'So tell me more about where you live,' Lexi says.

  'Big place near the shipyards, has its own water supply. Well the water's toxic and freezing cold, but other than that... Right now it isn't too flash, but I plan to change that. I could take you there sometime. We party pretty much every night.'

  'Sounds fun. You can find me round here most nights. Drop by any time you wanna pick me up. Hey, it's cold up here.'

  Lexi rubs her upper arms and moves close but it is a couple of hours too early to make a move - that would be ungentlemanly. Sexual tension intermingles with money lust as I steer with my free hand, unsure of how she will react to my state of arousal. I sit in a happily awkward position as we admire the roaming ground of our thirty million illegitimate compatriots which extends from the skeleton coast all the way to the mountains on the horizon.

  'I've never seen the city from so high, everything looks so small. Look at the stadium, it's tiny,' Lexi observes.

  'Ya see how far the slums spread out? The city centre is minor by comparison. Those little buildings at the foot of the three towers are high sky rises,' I point out.

  'Yeah, weird. The inner-hub looks small, apart from the three towers,' Lexi mutters.

  'A five mile diameter as opposed to thirty. A thirty which does not exist. Come on, I better take you down. Killow will be waiting.'

  Lexi squeezes my thigh as we descend and I have only one thing on my mind, but it may prove difficult to find a parking space for a flying pod in a hillside shanty town; it will attract attention. Clueless as to the correct direction I scan three storey streets filled with cables and washing lines, navigating dwellings until we catch a couple clinching in a shady gap barely wide enough for them to fit.

  'Love streets, where babies are made,' Lexi mutters.

  Those words make me shudder, but fail to repress the underlying urge now dominating my thoughts. Our flightpath is identified by a pointing child who is flying a kite. Rubbish swirls around her bare feet as a man carrying a crate of bottles enters a brightly coloured stall. A change of wind direction brings an over-powering stench, but fails to kill the mood. The chances of us finding privacy around here are limited and it would be difficult to raise the question without getting a slap on the face. I could take her home, but I cannot leave Killow. Or can I?

  'You wouldn't think it, but some of us take our garbage to the tip. I've had to make about ten wheel barrow trips this week. That's the price I pay for not working, I suppose.'

  'You'll have to direct me back. One part looks the same as the next.'

  'Don't look at me, I've never seen it from this angle... hang on. Take me to ground level. It should be this way, there's Kermit's store. The open sewer should be this way, you see that channel over there? Follow it.'

  Lexi finishes giving directions and the air of frivolity is altered as we discover Killow in a tight spot, cornered by troublemakers whose posturing resembles a tribe of territorial baboons. A pair of familiar antagonists make sharp gesticulations in front of my co-pilot as their hangers on nod in approval. One of them grabs a girl's arm as she attempts to walk away from the confrontation, causing her friends to shriek whilst stepping in to pry them apart.

  'Too much trouble for one midget to handle,' I mutter.

  'I know them, they're bullies and recently they've been using knives to intimidate,' Lexi advises.

  My level of incensement rises as their leader goes through every imaginable hand gesture during his rant, but I cannot make out his words amidst the noise. His chest inflates as he unfolds arms and places hands on hips, then points a finger, scratches his chin, spreads arms and clenches fists. And if I did not have a broken hand I would gladly jump down to punch the crap out of this unbelievably irritating little shit.

  'Go after our girls and you have to pay the pr-'

  'Hey, we're not your girls, Lamal.'

  'Shut up you sl... Argh!'

  Lamal's squawking is interrupted by a clattering impact as I swoop into the oblivious crowd, directing the nose of the craft into his shoulders, but his gang spot us in the nick of time. Their quick glances are followed by comical reactions and they scatter on all fours like startled rodents, gawping at a safe distance as their leader lies flat on his face. Lamal rolls over and his feet slide in dirt as I rotate the pod to revel in his humiliation. Girls point and laugh as I give non-serious consideration to crushing him.

  'What on Eryx is that?' Lamal shrieks.

  I reach across Lexi's lap to open the passenger door, shoving the streetwise siren as she dangles several feet from the ground. 'Hey!' Lexi whines, stumbling on the incline and placing hands on hips. She glowers as Killow clambers into the safety of the cockpit, but this is Lexi's environment so presumably she will be fine.

  'Thought you'd never come, mate!'

  'Hey that's Arturo, the kid who robb-'

  'See ya later, lads!'

  Divine Ascension

  The girl gang flee into squalid environs as the bullies watch our unreachable vessel of retribution ascend. Killow coughs up a mouthful of phlegm and spits out of the window but the intended targets hop sideways as the green lump splats on dirt. We wave goodbye with middle fingers and the mob respond to our gesture by shaking their fists, under the impression punching thin air is a suitable retaliation.

  'Next time, we'll destroy your droid, cut your fingers off and make you eat them! Just wait…' a teary Lamal growls and I capture the idol threat on my holowatch with the intention of ridiculing the shitwit on social media.

  'Almost in, damn it. I'm guessing Lexi won't be too happy about being pushed out of an airborne craft and left to fend off a woofing mob! Chance of a date just went from probable to minimal,' I mutter.

  'Arturo, you had to interrupt me. I was just about to sort 'em out and show the lasses who the real tough nut was!' Killow insists.

  'Sure you were, mate. Sorry to save you from a finger munching!' I laugh through my nose.

  We descend the northwest face of Auster hill as we head towards Neblina mountain, witnessing the crisp contrast between sunlight and shadow in a tree-lined valley; a location of serenity sandwiched between innumerable hovels. A sparkling trail is formed as we skim a muddy pond and then we circle sheer white rock to follow a winding road on the far side of the mountain, all the way to a well-trodden peak.

  A colossal robed figure stands on the plinth of a hexagonal plateau with a few miniature pedestrians at its feet. And it is easy to see why admirers are attracted because this idol has a powerful effect even on a non-believer.

  Swooping around, we come face to face with this mythological giant and his undeniable presence tempts me to question whether I have be
en living a lie; fearful he is watching through those condescending eyes. The atmosphere of his sacred site feels unwelcoming as though we have ascended to the heavens only to be rebuked and I wobble my head, reminding myself to rationalise.

  'Looks so much bigger and creepier up close. Samaris definitely has the stare of a paedophile! Hold steady, Arturo.'

  Killow causes a tizzy in my stomach by opening the door, leaning out the swaying Delos Pod to gauge the gap and leaping onto the statue of the saviour. Steadying his feet on the polished shoulder, Killow pats the cheek of Samaris to the undoubted horror of the worshippers below.

  'Take a picture with your holowatch,' the carbuncular iconoclast yells.

  I move away from this over-developed peak and frown upon the tourist shops near the observation deck. Adjusting the focus of the holowatch, I capture the outstretched arms of Samaris, the five-pointed star on his forehead, the snake coiled around his neck and the hell-bound midget resting against his ear, high above the purgatorial city where subjects of divine experimentation await judgement. With the footage recorded I approach the statue's head to enable Killow to climb safely aboard.

  'Did you get his whole head in? Snake as well? Hope it looks convincing, I don't want anyone accusing me of faking it after the risk I just took.'

  'Yeah mate, no need for a retake! Look at this.'

  My holowatch projects a miniaturised depiction of the moment Killow achieved a rather hilarious world first, recreating every green-tinged detail of copper plating, and I cannot wait for the reaction when the others see we have got one up on the establishment.

  'I can use a still as my profile picture and the video could go viral on Metatube!'

  Plummeting down the rock face, we cruise over the slums until we reach the high rises in old town; floating above non-hovering cars in the self-contained economy where trading replaces currency and recycled goods are the norm. Plebs scurry in their thousands, using barrows, carts and crates to carry reconditioned home appliances recovered from deconstructed ships and dated gadgets repaired and repackaged; hand-me-downs from the privileged few.