"Hello, May," Philo says.
"Oh hi," May says, her mouth full.
Philo sits down next to her.
"Rebecca said you would be up here," Philo says.
"She was right," May says, and takes another bite.
The two sit silently, looking out across the desolate landscape dotted with market tents and makeshift shelters. Every so often a vehicle of some sort flies or drives by. They toot their horns and the pair wave.
"Philo?" May says.
"Yes?" Philo replies.
"You know when we were down underground?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well... I wanted to ask you something."
"Is this about me removing my head?" Philo asks.
"How did you know?" May asks.
"I just figured that since you rebuilt me, you might have an interest of sorts in how I am put together," Philo says.
"Um, yeah," May says. She falls silent.
They watch the sunlight amplifiers.
"So what was your question?" Philo asks, finally.
"Well," May squirms a little. "I guess I was wondering, see, when you took your head off, it kind of..."
"Kind of freaked you out?" Philo says.
"Um, yeah." May's head is down and her hair covers her face. A tear drops onto her knee.
Philo touches May's shoulder. "I'm sorry, May," he says. "I'm sorry I freaked you out."
"Yeah," May says.
They sit together some more.
"I didn't like that," May says.
"I know," Philo says. "But you know what? As they say: it's not a bug, it's a feature. I got into the lab because they thought I was a weird telly. Just like when you found me."
"Yeah, I know..." May says. She stretches her feet out in front of her.
"I'll try and keep my head on," Philo says.
"Okay," May says. "Unless, you know, it's a feature. Then I guess it's alright."
"Okay, May." Philo puts out a fist.
"Okay, Philo." May bumps Philo's fist with hers.
082 - Zippo Hotel, Scar City
Edward steps off the bus that travels up and down the main drag of Scar City. He slings a small bag over his shoulder and looks around.
It doesn't take long for street vendors to begin accosting him with offers of products and services. No, he doesn't need a massage. No, he doesn't want an amulet that will cause him to win every bet in the Casino. There are musicians, dancers, people in costumes who seem like performance artists but who do not move. Edward takes it all in.
There's a tiny hotel wedged between two high rise buildings, about a block away. This is Edward's current destination. He crosses the street, dodging between ground and air transport vehicles and other pedestrians. A lady rolls by with an enormous water tank filled with what look like eyeballs trailing tentacles.
In Scar City it is constantly dusk, due to the enormous walls of the Scar that rise up on either side of it. The main drag runs along the bottom, with side streets and crazily constructed buildings snaking their way up the sides. The lights are on all the time because of the weak sunlight. Every night for a few hours the sunlight amplifiers switch off and the city resembles a million television sets all blaring different programming.
Much of Scar City was built in a reduced-gravity environment, before the planet was fully terraformed. As a result, materials could be hoisted and secured into some pretty unbelievable shapes - some lovely, some kind of horrific.
Edward enters the Zippo Hotel, his lodging for the night. It's an Art Deco structure, fitted with wooden columns and marble floors. A miniscule older lady barely peeks over the check-in counter.
"Welcome to the Zippo," the miniscule lady says.
"Hello," Edward replies. "I've got a reservation."
"Well I do too, but I try not to let it hold me back too much," the miniscule lady says, and proceeds to let out a long bout of coarse, smoker's laughter.
Edward smiles. Isn't she cute.
"No problem," the lady says. "Just stick your mitt on here and we'll get you set up." She slaps a panel down on the counter and Edward places his hand on. The system picks up his identity and a key card spits out of a slot in the counter.
"Business or pleasure?" the lady asks.
"Oh, I'm here to look for someone I have less than zero chance of finding," Edward says.
"Well that sounds futile," the lady says, "but whatever floats your boat. Maybe you can get in some sightseeing while you're not finding your person."
"Maybe indeed," Edward says. "Thank you." He takes the key card and heads for the elevator.
083 - An Orange
Feller's legs stick out from beneath the main console on the bridge of the Tumbleweed. Candy wrappers and soda cans lie around his feet.
May enters with a gift for him. It's an orange. She has painstakingly peeled it and placed it on a small plate. She kneels and places the orange at Feller's elbow.
"Here's some real food so your brain will work," May says.
"Aw, thanks May," Feller says. "Now I won't get scurvy." He smiles from beneath the console. Wires hang around his head and in his mess of hair.
"What's scurvy?" May asks.
"Oh, this disease people used to get on ships," Feller says.
"Really? Was it contagious? Can we get it?" May looks around as if scurvy germs might be all around.
"Nah, kid, it was a nutrition problem. Oranges helped. So, now I will definitely not get scurvy, both because you brought me this fine orange, and because we are not on the right planet at the right time," Feller says.
May pulls the orange in half and pops a section into her mouth. She offers the rest to Feller, who takes it and rests his head while he chews.
"Find anything?" May asks.
"Not yet," Feller says. "Bird People are software types. They like to code, mess with DNA, stuff like that."
"Except the ones that build big mechanical dinosaurs that can fly," May says.
"Well, yeah, there's that," Feller agrees. "You've got me there. Now, wait a minute, I spoke too soon. What's this..." He reaches up and tugs on a wire. "That should not be there."
"What is it?" May asks, lying on her back and scooting in beside Feller. "That black box?"
"Yeah," Feller says. "Looks some kind of bonus bit of hardware." He pulls it loose. Wires stick out of the side, and it gives off a quiet buzz. He hands it to May.
"Let's see what it does," May says, standing up and pulling out a rolling cart. On the cart sits a mobile testing unit with connections for almost any type of plug or interface imaginable. She turns the little box over in her hand, examining it.
"Not until I finish this lovely bit of nutrition you brought me," Feller says, emerging.
Dr. Mangrove appears at the entrance to the bridge, his hands on either side of his head. "What... is that?" He says.
"Nothing, just removed this bit, here," May says.
"Put it back, please," Dr. Mangrove says. He is leaning on the wall, breathing quickly and sweating. "That's... something I added. I'll explain later."
May stares blankly at Dr. Mangrove. Feller gently takes the box from her hand.
"Right away, sir," Feller says. By the time he has it back in place, Dr. Mangrove is gone.
084 - Dr. Mangrove's Noggin
"That was close," Angelica says into Dr. Mangrove's head. "You nearly gave it away, there. I'd hate to have to do something about that."
"I told them nothing," Dr. Mangrove says. "I simply told them to put that box back where they found it. I built this bucket. If I tell them to put something somewhere, they will do it. No questions asked."
"I certainly hope so," Angelica says. "For your sake."
"You need to get out of my skull," Dr. Mangrove says, gritting his teeth.
"When I am ready," Angelica says. "And not until then."
----------
"What was that about?" May asks Feller.
"I don't know," Feller says. "But our Dr. Mangrove didn't lo
ok too good. Something is wrong with him. He's been weird ever since we left the Bird People's cave there."
"It has something to do with that box," May says, leaning down to peer at the component installed under the console. "He didn't want it touched. It's not supposed to be there. How can we get the Tumbleweed back to normal if we can't remove stuff that doesn't belong?"
"I don't know," Feller says. "We've got to get into it without disturbing it. Find a work-around. Really quiet-like."
"We've got some stealthy hacking to do," May says.
May and Feller bump fists and start digging into the ship's code for a way to access the relay - without anyone noticing. Least of all Dr. Mangrove.
085 - Streets of Scar City
Sam and Rebecca elbow their way down the middle of one of Scar City's shopping streets, dodging carts and vehicles and bikes and people on foot carrying or rolling all kinds of merchandise and/or contraband. Men stand on the corners handing out pamphlets advertising the Casino. The pamphlets say PUT YOUR FAITH IN LUCK on them.
"Don't steal anything, master thief," Rebecca says. "It's more trouble than it's worth."
"No worries," Sam reassures her. "I save my skills for things that are really important."
"Like copies of your mom?" Rebecca asks.
"That would fall into the category," Sam replies.
They pass a stall draped with colorful fabric, in which a woman sits cross-legged. She's scanning faces as they go by, snapping pictures with a camera mounted on her eyeball. Each human, a potential customer. With a little quick research, she can tell their fortunes - or at least convince them that she has special insights about them.
"So many psychics here," Sam says. "Everybody wants someone to tell them something they don't know."
"For sure," Rebecca says. "Relocating to a new planet is stressful. I'm sure a little reassurance can help when you have no idea what's going to happen to you."
Commerce in Scar City is very different from the markets that dot the barren landscape elsewhere. Every transaction carries with it the possibility of subterfuge or spying. Technology coats everything. People just assume that their every move is watched and tracked. Outside the city, frontier justice dominates. Nothing there is permanent - the storms make sure of that. Your word is what you have, and if you prove untrustworthy, well, someone will take care of it.
Scar City by contrast feels like a free-for-all. Sure, everything is spied on, but in the chaos one can find a kind of anonymity. Usually.
"You Sam Brubeck?" a kid asks Sam. He's slight, wearing a hoodie and very expensive-looking shoes. A pair of goggles obscures most of his face.
Sam shoots a look at Rebecca. "Nope," he replies.
"This is for you," the kid says, and hands him a small card. He then disappears into the chaos.
"Great," Rebecca says. "You are way too famous. We just need to arrange for water and fuel and to get out of here. Think you can do that without incident?"
"Rebecca Mangrove?" another kid has appeared at her elbow. It's a girl, with dreadlocks to her waist.
"Nope," Rebecca answers. The girl hands her a piece of paper and runs off.
"Who's famous now?" Sam says, grinning.
"Whatever, let's find someplace quiet and see what this stuff is," Rebecca says. This is why she hates going into the City.
"You been to Darby's?" Rebecca asks.
"Nah, I haven't been on the planet long enough to check out all the finest establishments," Sam replies.
"Well it's not a fine establishment, and I kind of hate it, but they leave you alone mostly," Rebecca says.
"Sounds good," Sam says, and the two of them turn down a side street toward the edge of the City.
086 - Cass
Cass smooths the skirts of her dressing gown. She's sitting in a wing-back chair, sipping hot tea through a straw. This detail is never lost on her. Little things like straws remind fher of her shortcomings. The fact that she has to turn her head to the side to see properly. The shrill sound of her voice. She has learned to ignore these things, mostly.
The surface of Cass' tea dances with light from an enormous fire in an equally enormous stone fireplace. The fire throws illumnation across the ornately-framed portraits covering the walls. Some are paintings, some photographs. All have the faces of birds except one, a photograph of a slight woman in a floor-length black dress off to one side. It is small, encased in an oval frame with curved glass. The woman has long, slender arms and a tiny gold bracelet encircles her wrist. She looks straight into the camera.
"Harold, any word?" Cass says.
A figure with the face of an eagle and wearing a waistcoat steps into the warm light in front of the fireplace. "Yes, ma'am," he says. "We've received a number of signals. Difficult to interpret, but it would appear that the implant did remain in place even after our subject left the premises."
"Well, isn't that interesting," Cass says. "An incomplete experiment, and yet it may have come out better than we could have hoped in the lab. Certainly better than that rubbish we attempted with the bone fragments. What do the signals reveal so far?"
"Very little," Harold says, "but what we do have is intriguing. Vital signs, some visual and aural impulses. We can't decipher them yet, they are only rudimentary. But if we have some time, perhaps we can begin to detect patterns."
"Indeed," Cass says. "It's a good start. I do wish we'd had a little more bench time with our subject. The cyborg got in earlier than we scripted. But we retained the illusion of free will. So the experiment remains intact."
"It does," Harold says.
"Thank you," Cass Says. Harold takes this as his cue to retreat.
Cass sets down her tea and picks up her worn, cloth-bound copy of War and Peace. She pulls her spectacles down on top of her beak, and positions the secondary lenses in front of her bird eyes. Binocular vision is a requirement of great literature.
087 - Agent Millman's Apartment
David O Millman, Agent, stares out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment. Buildings spiral and swoop in all directions, some wedged into the walls of the Scar, others free-standing or attached to neighboring structures. Improvised catwalks stretch across space high above the streets. Every so often someone runs across from one building to another. Once in a while, one end of a catwalk will come loose and fall crashing down, leaving it swinging. Someone at one end or the other has cancelled the arrangement.
A telephone rings. It's a black, rotary model, sitting on top of a small round table. One of the only furniture items in the apartment. The floor is still covered in papers, with small pathways left for walking. One section has been stacked up in a pile, perhaps a dead-end that Millman has abandoned.
Neptune Road Volume IV Page 2