“Good.” The salesman moved around the car, providing Erik personal space. “Keep in mind that even with the autonomous settings, if you’re driving in the city, you can’t sleep at the wheel. I know you commercial guys play fast and loose with that, but the police will fine you pretty heavily if they catch you asleep behind the wheel, although you should always use the system if you’re drunk, obviously.” The salesman shrugged. “The Neo SoCal police are very…intense about enforcing traffic laws. Not like they have anything better to do.”
“You think so?” Erik didn’t bother to hide the curiosity in his voice as he glanced at the salesman. “Shouldn’t they be solving crimes? Investigating things?”
“Investigating what?” The salesman scoffed. “Maybe there’s actual serious crime in the Shadow Zone, but everyone down there chooses to live there. You can’t blame the police for not protecting people from others down there.”
“Shadow Zone?” Erik asked.
The salesman eyed him like he was drunk. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, I just got in yesterday.” Erik shrugged. “Never been to this area of the planet before.”
“Where are you from?” the salesman asked, wariness in his voice.
“Uh, Greater Detroit,” Erik replied, then added after a pause, “Originally.”
“I’ve never been there myself.” The salesman smiled and gestured around. “When you live in the greatest metroplex, why leave, right? Neo SoCal is the best in the world and represents the elite of much of the world, but that’s why you’re here and not in Detroit. Am I right?”
“What about this Shadow Zone?” Erik prodded, ignoring the man’s question.
The salesman sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “You know, not everyone who is antisocial gets transported, especially if they’re not a criminal, and it’s not like the government folks are total monsters. Some of these antisocial people choose to live in places where they can do their own thing, or so I’ve heard. It’s not like I’ve ever been close to a Shadow Zone. I’m not antisocial, and you can get fined for going there. I wouldn’t want that on my permanent record.”
“Where is the Shadow Zone?” Erik asked.
“Lower levels, especially ground level. It’s not like the authorities are going to let antisocial people take over towers. They just need to have a place for them until they can finish getting them offworld or they reform themselves. I’m sure it’s all part of the government’s plan.” The salesman laughed. “This is Earth, not some frontier planet filled with insurrectionists. There’s a reason they implemented Social Cohesion, right? Get all those criminals offworld so they can give back to society after a little indentured servitude, but come on, once a criminal, always a criminal. That’s why there are so many insurrectionists out there.” He pointed up.
Erik grunted and looked toward the edge of the platform. He hadn’t actually been on the ground since his return to Earth, except at the spaceport.
Detroit was different, not having as many towers. There was definitely a social hierarchy, and people liked to look the other way and pretend crime didn’t exist, but there were definitely parts of the city, or at least there had been thirty years prior, that were more dangerous than others.
My brother must still be alive, or at least, I don’t know different. Should probably go by and show off my flitter just to annoy him. I’d enjoy the look of jealousy right after a serving of why-the-hell-are-you-here look he’d give me.
The salesman patted Erik on the arm. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Even if you want to live on the wild side and head down to the Shadow Zone, the Taxútnta MX 60 has a built-in security system. No Shadow Zone punk’s going to take your car for a joy ride, and I’m sure it’s not that bad down there. Just a few antisocial types not singing the songs of love for their fellow man. You know how it is. Not real criminals. I bet Detroit has something similar.”
“Yeah, probably.” Erik stared at a wide black cargo flitter settling on an extending landing platform a few towers over. “I haven’t been back there in thirty years, so maybe it’s different.”
“Oh? Where have you been?”
“Offworld doing this and that for my employers. Time away just kind of piled up on me.” Erik chuckled. “And now I’m back on Earth.”
The salesman made a face. “Offworld? I’m presuming you mean you were on a core world, at least.”
“I kind of toured the frontier and border worlds,” Erik answered, wondering where this would take the conversation.
“You’re a very brave man, Mr. Blackwell. The way the news makes it sound, once you get past the core worlds, it’s nothing but insurrectionists and lizards.” The salesman shuddered. “I thank God every day for the UTC military keeping human space safe.”
Erik nodded slowly as he watched another flitter dropping onto a small area jutting out from a building. A personal arrival dock, it looked like. Two attractive women got out with packages and walked the ten feet into the building. The flitter turned and left as the dock pulled back into the building. “Yeah. It’s been kind of strange coming back.”
“It’s the smell, right?” The salesman laughed. “My cousin went on a trip to Alpha Centauri once. From the ship to planetfall, he said things smelled weird, and that’s a core world. I can’t imagine what it’s like on the actual frontier.”
Erik forced his attention back to the salesman. His need to be aware of everything going on was just something he would have to deal with in a city. “It’s different. I don’t know if it’s worse. It’s just different. I used to cuss a lot more out there, and I’ve had to clean that up.”
“I…see.”
Erik grinned. “Yeah, it’s harder than you think when you’re used to cussing a lot.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Blackwell.”
The salesmen didn’t need to know his profanity came more from his military background than his time away from the core worlds, but it would be a useful additional test.
Every new encounter on Earth let Erik calibrate his methods of dealing with people. He couldn’t always approach a person with the TR-7 in hand in four-barrel mode. Most of the time, sure, but not always.
I need to have a compartment to store the TR-7 built into the flitter. He frowned. That means I need to find someone who will do it without asking questions.
The salesman smirked and nodded at the car. “Bet they don’t have nice toys like this out there now, do they?”
Erik walked around the back of the vehicle to the drivers-side door. “No, I can’t say I’ve seen anything this nice in a long time.” He opened the door and looked at the salesman, giving him his finest grin. “Let’s get this finished. I want to take her for a spin.”
“Of course, Mr. Blackwell. And I’m sure everyone’s been telling you this… Welcome back to Earth!”
Driving a flying car like a flitter in theory provided total freedom, but the reality was, the flow of traffic in a major Earth metroplex was heavily enforced by hovering lane markers and compliant drivers, the net result being long, stacked lines of flitters, specks of metal and color in the air, all flowing together like blood in veins, circulating around the system via their invisible roads.
Erik glanced out the side window at the closest driver. Dense text floated in front of her. A book, most likely. After thirty years of not depending on the judgment of machines, the presence of so many people letting their vehicles drive them amused him.
Never let a machine do your work for you.
With a quick tap, Erik activated his altitude change signal before dropping down a lane. He looked at his navigation screen.
“Nav request, show me all Shadow Zone entrances,” Erik ordered.
“No such destinations exist,” the vehicle responded in a soft female voice. “Please restate your request using alternate wording.”
People know about it, but you just want to pretend it doesn’t exist. Okay. I know this music.
; “Nav request, show me all restricted flight areas below 250 meters,” Erik suggested.
Several dark blue patches appeared on the screen. They were scattered all over the metroplex, with a major concentration in the southeast. Even with all the restricted lanes and controlled pathways, he could still fly his MX 60 straight to the Shadow Zone.
He grinned and tugged on the wheel. “There you are. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”
Erik patted the pistol holster concealed beneath his dark brown duster. The gun might not be as useful as a TR-7, but he couldn’t always carry around an assault rifle, even when he had his secret compartment added.
Let’s see how dangerous this place is.
The traffic withered to a mere trickle and then nothing as Erik dropped to the base level of the metroplex and headed toward the Shadow Zone.
Perhaps because the massive platforms extending from so many of the towers cast gargantuan shadows, greenery down below became sparser, and the base of several towers appeared featureless.
From what he’d read, many of the towers in Neo SoCal used the lower levels for maintenance and supply storage.
“Warning,” the vehicle informed Erik. “You are below the recommended altitude for general travel.”
“Yeah, I think you might have to be upgraded,” Erik muttered. “Not having a computer tell me what to do.”
“Warning,” the computer offered again. “You are approaching a restricted area. Please turn your vehicle around to avoid potential fines.”
Erik didn’t alter course. He moved lower.
The area grew more unkempt, the buildings grimier. He was no longer driving among the sky castles of the UTC elite, but in the dark shadows they didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Please note you are now in a restricted area. You might be subject to traffic fines by your local police enforcement zone.”
Erik slowed but didn’t stop. His gaze cut to his lidar display. A flashing triangle marked by the system as POLICE flew toward him at high speed.
His in-vehicle comm came alive. “This is the NSCPD,” barked a harsh male voice over the line. “You are traveling in a restricted zone. You are to immediately switch your vehicle to full autonomous mode to ensure compliance or bring your vehicle to a complete stop.”
Erik brought the MX 60 to a stop. A few seconds later, the black and white police flitter appeared in the distance, its red and blue lights flashing. The vehicle slowed to a stop a few meters away.
“Please transmit your license information immediately,” the cop ordered. “Be aware that you may be fined, even for a first offense, for travel in a restricted zone, and don’t try and claim you didn’t know.”
Erik tapped his PNIU to interface it with the computer in his MX 60. He tapped in a few commands to transmit his identification information and waited.
Then he sat there waiting to see how things played out.
The seconds stretched on, the police officer not communicating anything.
“Is there a problem, officer?” Erik prodded.
A moment went by. “I apologize, sir. You have full clearance for all restricted zones, Major Blackwell. Have a good day, sir.” The cop killed his lights, and the vehicle spun and zoomed away.
“Override code established,” the MX 60 announced. “No further warnings will be issued.”
Erik smirked.
Technically, his formal separation from the UTC military wouldn’t occur for another week local time. It had never even occurred to him that his Special Forces status would grant him access to restricted metroplex zones.
It made him wonder what kinds of things might have been going on down there.
Erik accelerated, a bigger smile building. He hadn’t been sure if he would be able to adjust to life on Earth easily, but it wasn’t really very different from military life.
Obey a few rules, look out for dangerous areas, and always confirm intelligence. He still didn’t have any real leads about what had happened on Mu Arae, and to get them, he would have to go through every secret in the city. The quicker he familiarized himself with its underbelly, the better.
He grinned. “All they do is fine you for your curiosity.”
Chapter Nine
Erik flew over something quaint: an actual road. It was surprisingly well-maintained, suggesting the Shadow Zone wasn’t as abandoned by the rest of the city as he suspected.
Judging by the lights and vehicles he could see, they didn’t lack electricity either.
That made sense. Earth might not be the shining palace of perfection some people might claim, but they weren’t going to let millions of people live in major urban centers without at least some level of basic services.
That was how you bred insurgencies.
“Question.” He spoke aloud. “Do they sweep through here and grab people to transport, or do they not care so long as they deal with it down here?”
A memory jolted into his consciousness concerning his last real conversation with his brother.
“This is the last time, Erik,” his brother had shouted. “You want to go play with antisocials and criminals, that’s your business, but I don’t want any part of it.”
Erik grunted, and his hands tightened on the control yoke. Thirty years. There were too many ghosts. He would worry about Mu Arae first.
His personal problems could wait.
He cruised along. People and vehicles became more common, and he passed several stores and apartment complexes on either side. The entire area lacked the gleam and shine of the upper levels, but it didn’t look much worse than countless cities he’d visited on the frontier.
If anything, he felt more comfortable now that he was driving through an area that felt closer to what he’d dealt with for most of his life, even when taking into account the first part of his life in the Greater Detroit Metroplex.
Many normal, albeit poorer, citizens still lived at ground level there.
Erik slowed to a stop. A large holographic sign spun over a squat gray building. Two beer-filled mugs swirled around the colorful name of the bar.
THE BIG ONE.
He chuckled and pulled into a small parking lot filled with flitters, all of which had seen better days.
Erik opened the door and stepped into onto the concrete. “Basic request, activate security system.” He closed the door.
The car beeped once and the windows darkened. Metal panels slid down to cover them. Erik nodded, satisfied, before walking over to the door of the bar. He threw it open and entered the dimly lit building.
No matter which planet, no matter which place, all seedy bars invoked the same spirit: a darkened room with worn tables, whether metal or wood, and angry-looking men and women sitting around in a place that never seemed more than half-full.
Loud music blasted from unseen speakers, the sound some harsh cacophony Erik didn’t recognize.
He’d never cared much about music, especially out on the frontier, let alone the border.
Erik stepped up to the bar. A scowling woman in a crisp white shirt, black vest, and dark pants moved forward. The fancy outfit didn’t fit the vibe of the bar. He wondered if she’d had de-aging treatments because her smooth, youthful skin didn’t match her short, graying dark hair.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“A Wolf’s Rebellion,” Erik replied. Despite the fancy name, the drink was nothing more than a Baijiu Sour, typically the grain alcohol plus lemon juice, sugar, some egg white, and a few other spices. He doubted he would get an authentic Rebellion, considering the original drink contained uniquely flavored spices that relied on the soil of the planet Remus in the Wolf 359 system.
He tapped his PNIU and a price appeared in the center of his smart lenses. He tapped again to transfer the credits.
The bartender nodded and turned to grab the necessary bottles and glass to mix the drink. “I haven’t seen you around here before, and I have a very good memory.”
“I’m new to the area.�
�� Erik offered her a lopsided smile.
“New, huh? Meaning what? If you’re looking to score, I don’t tolerate that in my place. I can point you to some places if you want. Your brain, your choice. But it’ll cost you.” The bartender snorted and gestured at her PNIU. “Every car that pulls up, I get a little ping. You having a fancy toy like that means you’re some Uptowner bigshot who’s come here to slum. The fact that you can get past the checkpoints means you have money to throw around.”
“Would you believe me if I told you the cops just let me through?” Erik shrugged. “I’m not even lying.” He glanced around before looking back at her. “I’m not here for drugs.”
The bartender finished preparing his drink and set it down in front of him, sans coaster. “Then what are you doing here, Uptowner?”
“Honestly?” Erik asked.
She nodded. “Honestly.”
“Seeing how the other half lives. The guy I picked up the car from mentioned the Shadow Zone, so I wanted to check it out.” Erik shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” The bartender snickered. “You ready to move down here with us groundlings?”
“Maybe.” Erik picked up the drink and swallowed, then eyed it. “That’s good stuff.”
“Glad you approve.” She stared at him for a moment, tapping a finger on her lips. “Something’s not right.”
Erik took another few sips of his drink before setting the glass in front of him. “What do you mean?”
She looked him up and down and shook her head. “Everything. Wrong build. Wrong accent. Wrong look. At first, I thought you were an Uptowner playing at slumming, and I know you’re not from around the Zone, but I don’t think you’re from Uptown either.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Erik grunted. “I’m from—”
She threw up her hand. “No. I want to figure it out.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got money, a lot of money. You can afford an MX 60 and the de-aging treatment.”
Obsidian Detective Page 8