Ill Wind

by Tal Turing

  Transom Industries, the company which had accepted her from an orphanage, educated her in its procedures and provided her food, shelter and purpose. In exchange, she was legally bound to them, corporate property, until the day she could completely repay her debt. It was under Transom orders that she was sent away from her home valley of New Berlyn to Techview and now it was Transom that demanded her return, to complete one assignment. But even her handler in Techview did not know the details. And that had worried her. And now it worried her again. Why the mystery? Why was she here?

  Her head clearing, Cynnamon walked away from the wall of rankings, toward the exit doors. But as she began to ascend the wide stone stairs, she felt a shooting pain between her legs. She cringed and stopped, a wave of distressful remembrance washing over her brain. Something had happened to her, on that train. She had been trapped, bound in a medical chair, an examination station. One by one, the little mementos she had stored away were coming back to her. Reminding her who she was and what had happened.

  Greetings.

  Cynnamon jumped, startled by the very formal voice which seemed to come out of nowhere. Now there was someone there, a woman, in impossibly high heels, her gown flowing in slow motion. It spoke to her.

  Are you satisfied with your skin? Ninety three percent of the local populace have lighter skin than yourself. What if you could change your skin color, your hair color, even your eyes to suit the place, your mood or even your man? You can. Let Humantis show you the way.

  She groaned at the advertising angel just as two others materialized in her virtual space.

  Never buy medical services straight from a provider. We can help you get the best price at a pre-negotiated rate...

  Warning! Humantis seldom works with third party brokers. You would be wise...

  “That is enough,” she sighed as she instructed her AI to block all advertisements. The angels disappeared with a mournful gaze and she was alone once again.

  She continued her ascent toward the doors when suddenly two more angels appeared in front of her. They had large, dark, metallic wings, curly blonde hair and sandals, their robes bore the crest of New Berlyn and they seemed less than pleased.

  Do NOT proceed. Stop your progress.

  You are NOT authorized. NOT authorized to leave this terminal.

  Return to the security office.

  She stopped and looked at them as they continued their warnings. They were not real, visible only through her AI, and they could not harm her though they had certainly startled her. But their threats were real enough. She did not doubt there would be a tangible response should she walk through those doors. Of course this meant that her security clearance had not been updated. She was trapped in the station.

  She opened a communication line to Transom House, the link initialized and then failed. It was blocked. She sent them a message, it dropped into a waiting queue. She was physically and virtually blocked from the outside world. Marvelous.

  Cynnamon walked back into the station, tossing her bag onto the first bench she reached. Frustrated and irritated, she continued her stroll, further through the hall, toward the back wall. Then, she stopped, her blood running cold.

  She had spied a storage niche in the back of the room and the memories flooded back to her, from ten years before, when her younger self also occupied this hall, on her way out of the city.

  It was to be an exciting, celebratory time, the day of her graduation and reassignment to Techview. Even assets could accomplish, could hope. But she had spent that day, all day, hiding in that dark hole, nursing the welts on her body, hiding the bruises on her face, until finally, with minutes until her outbound train left, the younger Cyn ran from her hiding place and boarded the train that would take her away.

  She approached slowly, her eyes fixed on the compartment. Where before it had held seasonal decorations, now it was full of cleaning supplies. She had no desire to crawl in again and mingle with any more of those ghosts. She turned away.

  She returned to the bench where her pack lay and sat down. Her fingernails slid across the wood of the bench beneath her thigh and slipped into an indentation. She looked down. Someone had carved into the wood words that polish and stain could not conceal.

  Don loves Carly

  I miss you already

  Cyn smiled weakly at the random writings. She wondered where the authors went, although she knew they were long dead, but she hoped they had lived full lives before the start of Maltiempo, that they had had a chance at a happy life. She slipped onto her knees, turned back and read some more graffiti. Her hands brushed over a single sentence.

  I leave and shall NEVER return

  It was something she might have written on that fateful day but if she had, the memory had left as well. With her mind preoccupied in the past, a sudden ping from her AI brought her back. Had someone from Transom realized that she was waiting? She read the message. It seemed to be an offer for some sort of AI upgrade. An advertisement? She rolled her eyes, she thought she had blocked all the spam? It annoyed her how companies found ways to break their own rules.

  But she laughed at the thought. An upgrade to her AI? Her AI spectacles, a standard pair of DT3000 artificial intelligence viewers, the best of what Daneel Tech produced, ten years ago, had been outrageously expensive for a poor corporate asset, in the end it had cost her more than a year of commissions to pay off that debt, an extra year bound to Transom Industries and its assignments. So Cyn had no interest in another unit and another year.

  Suddenly disgusted with the solicitation and annoyed at her own AI for betraying her, she removed her spectacles and placed them on top of her bag as she rose, stretched and ventured into the dark station.

  She ignored another twinge of pain as she walked, still not ready to think about what had happened on the train. There would be time for that. For now, she needed to get herself to Transom House, report to Operations and find out why she was there. That was the highest priority.

  As she walked toward a corner of the great hall, Cyn saw something move, actually it seemed to slide across the floor. She froze.

  The object was about a third of a meter in both length and height and slightly narrower in width. It was a janitor bot, perhaps a floor cleaner. Almost in response, the device stopped and a mechanical arm reached forward cautiously and probed a crumpled up piece of paper before finally clutching it and discarding it into an opening in its top side.

  Cyn followed it, amused, but eventually it rolled into a small tunnel and she could not follow it further. She turned and walked back to the bench where her pack lay. She returned her AI spectacles to her face and was surprised to see another new message. Would it be from a real person?

  No. It was yet another AI upgrade offer. She spent five minutes looking for a way to block any future upgrade solicitations before she grew tired, laid her head against the pack and fell asleep.

  Tym

  Tym Matheson, executive officer for Transom Industry's Strategy and Corporate Relations (SCR) division in Techview, had just arrived on the pre-dawn shuttle. His eyes were tired and his old bones were weary; despite the comfortable berth, he had been unable to sleep.

  He watched the intimidating, black-armored members of the New Berlyn guard march, arrogantly, in front of him before veering off. He had been warned about the New Berlyn patrols and fortunately his high corporate status had, no doubt, encouraged the bullies to ignore him, but they would not be cowed either. Despite his nature, he would need to keep reminding himself that this colony was not a subsidiary of Techview, but rather saw itself as a rival, a competitor.

  As he and the others entered the cathedral-like station, the place seemed to come to life. The lights had brightened, the sound of commercial jingles filled the air. Two young hospies ran over to greet him, clutching his various bags. They questioned him as to his needs and finally escorted him directly to an exit and into a corporate shuttle. He hoped everything would go as smoothly.

  Tym recog
nized some of the Transom officers within the roomy vehicle and flashed them quick smiles and exchanged some vacuous greetings. He was in the middle of such social niceties when he noticed a young woman waving frantically at them from behind the glass of the station doors.

  Her hair was jet black, tied behind her and she wore a Transom issue uniform. Her skin was like that of a golden fruit. His AI might not have retrieved her identification at this distance, but it did not matter, his advanced unit had decent facial recognition software and had already identified her as one of Mother's operatives. But why was she still in the terminal?

  “Driver, is that young lady with us?” Tym asked casually as he leaned forward.

  “I don't know sir, but I've got everyone on my list, there will be more limousines coming along.”

  “If she is with Transom, then she has a purpose and business should not be kept waiting. Please go find out.”

  Tym had a pleasant demeanor and friendly eyes, but he knew how to give an order. The man got out and went into the building to speak to the woman. It was more than fifteen minutes later before he returned with her. She entered the vehicle, carefully choosing a seat near the window, visibly relaxed. Tym turned away, and tried to pretend he had no idea who she was or for whom she worked.

  As the vehicle lifted off the ground and into the dome air space, Tym was dumbfounded by the sky! It was the color of rose petals and littered with fluffy, perfectly-white clouds that drifted at a noticeable speed. As he stared, he discovered large steel-blue herons flying in groups and two bright moons chasing each other across the dome. It was stunningly beautiful. But how could it be? Earth did not have two moons?! Not that he had ever seen the night sky, or any which wasn't covered with thick clouds. He had heard villagers speak of rare nights when the clouds aligned and opened a brief view into outer space, a sight that would have been common before the age of Maltiempo.

  “Welcome to the city of New Berlyn,” the driver's voice filled the cramped space, “and in particular to the world renown SkyTran Dome. I'll bet even our visitors from Techview have not seen anything like our dome shows. Take a good look while we are here, the other domes are not so beautiful and the show changes, so you can come here every day and it will look different each time. Don't miss the fireworks and music shows on the weekend...”

  Tym laughed to himself. He should have known better. Mother would skewer him if she learned that he had thought this was a real sky. This trip might be full of surprises; he would need to stay watchful and prepared. And just then, the vehicle dropped down into a gaping hole and swallowed them up.

  Cyn

  Cyn had watched the dome animations through a New Berlyn station window, all while waiting for a Transom driver who could be convinced to delay their schedule and call Transom House on her behalf. The shows were pleasant and it took her mind off of her worries. She even got excited at the thought of returning on a weekend night for the fireworks or the 'Birth of the Universe' show.

  This limo driver had been just as adamant as those previous, asserting that he could only pick up passengers whose name appeared on his AI list. Then, somehow, the driver had changed his mind, returned to her and made the call to Transom House.

  Hospies were always professional and polite, it was core to their training and the man chatted amiably with her even as they waited for the clearance to be issued; and when it came he carried her bag to the limousine and she got in.

  The limousine was almost full, containing several Transom officers, mostly Strategy. She even recognized some of the faces from Techview. But she was exhausted and snuggled up against a window in order to stare out the window and catch the sights of the valley of her birth, even if it was no longer her home.

  The interior of SkyTran Dome had changed greatly since last she had been there, even beyond the brilliant animations. Now there were many tall buildings with a huge park in the center. She wished the driver would take them outside the dome so she could see the entire valley and even glimpse the remote section of the high valley wall which contained the village where she grew up. Instead, he took the vehicle straight toward the tunnels.

  Suddenly, Cyn felt a sense of impending doom and panic as the vehicle dropped into the bowels of the Earth and she realized that when they emerged, it would be within the stark confines of Transom Dome - New Berlyn, the place which marked her transition from free village guajira, to a bonded, indebted, corporate asset; the confines in which she had studied, worried, loved and lost. But more than that, it was a placed that had filled her with hope and promise and then delivered mostly pain and disappointment. It was a place she had left in theory but in truth she had fled.

  As the limo entered the tunnel, the interior plunged into blackness, her eyes adjusted, and she became aware of the crimson glow of the navigation system within the vehicle and the long eerie-green, luminescent strips which marked the walls of the tunnel on the exterior. Those markers gave the appearance that they had been swallowed by a giant worm and that they were traveling quickly through its simple digestive tract before being excreted out the other end, depositing them into the dark and dingy interior of Transom Dome.

  Transom Dome

  The limousine emerged over dark green fields that continued on into the distance, toward the center of the dome. But back in the direction from which they had come was the awesome wall of the dome barrier, the threatening specter of Maltiempo pressing against it from the outside, trying to get in.

  Unlike SkyTran, Transom did not bother to beautify their dome with lights or animations. Neither did one hear the sounds of music or chimes or even faux-voices in the distance. There was just the slow, powerful drone of the dome as it slowly churned and a disturbing crackle and whine when something large attempted to push through.

  The entire outer ring of the dome interior was allocated for farming and the shuttle flitted over field after field of green crops, tall stalks which stood motionless without any wind to rustle them. Here the light from the dome wall, dim as it might be, was much brighter than the inky darkness at the apex of the rotating dome vortex. Thus the crops grew not vertically but at an angle to the dome, garnering the most light.The farms were static yet fruitful.

  As they moved inward, the farms were left behind and the landscape changed for the worse. Now the ground was rough, ugly and unprepared. There were few roads as domers preferred air travel and loathed the expense of excavating and maintaining the earth.

  In the distance, coming into view, Cyn could see tall buildings and clusters of smaller structures. The latter were residential complexes which housed both Transom employees as well as those of the many companies which were not profitable enough to have their own dome. The tall buildings marked downtown Transom and Cyn hoped that they might go there first, for any reason, rather than heading straight for Transom House, the stronghold and center of Transom Industries in New Berlyn.

  But her wish was not granted.

  Transom House

  Now Cyn could see the grounds of Transom House, where bare, broken and weed infested ground gave way to ornamental trees, gardens and flora that was far too delicate to ever survive outside the dome.

  As they approached, the vehicle dipped toward the ground, leveling out and pointing itself toward a large stone archway which was the formal entrance to the estate. A sentry building sat nearby and black guards, like deformed ants, marched in front and on the walls of that building and on both sides of the arch. In the distance, a stone mansion came into view - Transom House.

  To her, the medieval style buildings seemed much larger and more intimidating than the simple, practical buildings of Transom Techview. But she had not seen everything yet.

  Something flashed in the sky and her eyes were drawn up, above the security building to the giant globe which hovered in the sky and spun slowly. It was a hologram but it was still impressive.

  The hologram was a representation of the Transom crest, a segmented globe meant to represent her company's stunning arra
y of services, its sheer size in terms of holdings and its pervasiveness in every aspect of domer life. The longitudinal vertical lines and horizontal latitude lines divided the sphere into sections which themselves held intricate images. She saw the quilled pen of Transom Legal Services, the lock of Transom Security Services, the stamped envelope which represented Transom Communication Services and the wine glass representing Transom Hospitality Services. Although she didn't see it, she knew that somewhere on the surface of the ominous, rotating sphere, was an icon of two interlocking gears, representing Transom Operations, Cyn's divisional home for almost ten years.

  For a viewer with AI implants, the scene was augmented with grand commentary from an unseen woman who spoke in awed tones of the dominant metrics of Transom Industries, its ranking in clients supported, in employees, in services rendered and each ranking was a clear #1. If Transom was second in anything it was not discussed here. Even Cyn, who knew that Transom was not a top profits leader, could not help but be awed by the spectacle.

  And suddenly she worried about the man on the train, Darren, and her sudden decision to play along with his offer to repackage her debt to a new company. She knew it was a scam but she needed to find out exactly what it was and who was behind it, and she was sure Mother would back up her decision.

  But Mother was not here and Transom New Berlyn might see her act in a very negative light, perhaps even as treason. It suddenly became urgent that she report immediately to Transom Ops and let them know what had happened. The narrator was almost yelling now: