Michael pointed to the illuminated numbers on the front of the hoverbus at the north end of the terminal. “Check the map. Is that our flight?”
“Yup, and a line is already forming. Let’s break up like we did before and get in line,” I said, reactivating my L-band.
Nodding and walking forward, he waited until there was a sufficient distance between us before making his way toward the grounded hoverbus.
Trying to look calm and ordinary, I casually looked behind me to see where he was in the crowd. Crap. I ended up in the middle of the line, but he was last. An unsafe position while his band was inactive.
From his frown, I could tell he was angry at himself for not reaching the line before the two women in front of him. He scowled and rotated his jaw as if he was chewing a wad of gum. A gray-haired man with stiff legs and an equilibrium cane walked toward the back of the line but was called to move to the front and board first due to his disability. Darn.
The driver was a middle-aged man, and the porter was also human. Darn again. Unlike bots, a human worker was more likely to notice if the bus doors started to close before Michael reached the first step.
The seat I chose was an empty bench near the back and next to the window. Geez, Michael practically rode the back of the lady in front of him. She felt his unnatural proximity, and turned to look back at him, but he only smiled and then pretended, I think, to trip as the woman entered, so he could bump her forward with his chest, temporarily making them one person according to the bus’s sensors.
The door slid, but he turned in time to squeeze through without being pinched.
“Wow, I’ve never seen that before,” said the porter, a tiny, bald man with an extra-large mustache.
“Yeah, that’s never happened to me,” said Michael. “You need to get that door checked. I could have been killed!”
Good job playing the role of disgruntled passenger and blaming the hoverbus’s sensors. It worked, bringing an apology from the porter and easing the man’s suspicion.
“Well, I don’t know about being killed, sir,” said the porter, “but you might have gotten a nasty bruise on your shoulder.”
Michael tapped the screen of his L-Band and reacted as if it responded perfectly to his commands. “Well, it’s not my L-Band.” He proceeded down the aisle without further interaction.
He took up a row to himself directly in front of me. There wasn’t a wink, smile, or nod between us. He kept his arms crossed and his head down. Something had happened to make him memorable, and I didn’t want it to make me memorable, too.
“I see you’re from Region One,” said a girl directly across the aisle from Michael. She gave a nod in the direction of Michael’s band and flicked her brunette hair from her shoulders. Her red L-Band and comparable accent to Travel’s told me she was not only from Region Three, but she was also a born—if that’s what you can call it—and bred Australian.
“Yeah, Region One, Sector Three,” he fibbed. If my memory was correct, Sector Three was Canada.
“Visiting family?”
“Yeah.”
The girl paused, waiting for him to ask her the same question in return, but he didn’t. He stared at the floor instead.
“I was visiting my cousins. I used to live in R3, S9, but now I live in R2, S5, D11. Have you been there before?” the girl asked in a barely distinguishable Australian accent.
“No.” His answer almost made me laugh, considering that we were in Region Two, Sector Five, Division Thirteen—London—less than three hours before.
“Oh, well, if you want someone to show you around, I don’t have any plans or anything when we arrive.”
Oh my God. Are you kidding? Why don’t you go put some shrimp on the barbie and eat a vegemite sandwich while you’re at it, Aussie girl, or should I say, “Sheila.”
“No, actually, I’m going to be really busy with my family. I won’t have time for any sightseeing. Thanks, though,” he said with a blush.
Good answer, Michael, but I shouldn’t be so mean. He was a total hottie after all, and she was just doing what I never could—starting a conversation with a cute boy. Besides, it wasn’t like he was my boyfriend. My jealousy said I’d begun to forgive him and at least wanted to get closer.
“Oh, okay.” Miss Australia was defeated. She left a few minutes later, strutting down the aisle toward the bathroom.
When the porter was preoccupied, I leaned toward the back of Michael’s neck and whispered. “G’day, mate.”
“What?”
“Nothing, um, this flight should be short compared to the others. We’ll be off in less than half an hour according to Magnum’s notes.”
He whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “I’ve been calculating the hours in my head. We’ve been traveling for about seven to eight hours total. That means it’s between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. in L.A.”
“That sounds about right,” I said, moving closer to the window to survey the night sky and the flickering surf below as the porter moved down the aisle.
He nodded and smiled at everyone he passed, but when he got to me and the empty seat next to me, he asked, “Traveling alone?”
“Yeah. One of my friends is getting married this weekend.”
“You mean next weekend? Today’s Sunday. The weekend’s almost over.”
“That’s right. I meant next weekend. I’ll be there for the whole week.”
“Congratulations to your friend,” he said, and smiling, the porter walked away, but I didn’t like the way his mustache twitched when he turned to leave.
“Now we are both memorable,” I whispered to Michael.
Through lips that barely moved, he responded. “It’ll all work out.”
The terminal was more crowded than it was the first time we were there, making it easier for us to blend in with the commuters. He kept his distance from me until Little Miss Aussie ended her flirting with a final “goodbye” and a wave before disappearing into the crowd.
It was strange. We were in Australia, but the people didn’t sound like true Australians, their accents being too weak. In London, it was the same thing. Was it the result of being able to travel from one region to another in just a few hours? Whatever the cause, I was glad there was still enough diversity in their cadences for my twenty-first-century ears to hear them.
“Now where do we go?” asked Michael, still blushing. The Aussie was probably the only girl, besides me or a tier two GenH1 employee, who ever flirted with him.
“Terminal Three. Over there,” I pointed.
But over there was a place we didn’t want to be. Two PATs stood at attention while three patrol officers directed a small crowd of people into two parallel lines. Now it was the PATs’ turn to scan L-Bands with their built-in readers. All passengers who approached to board our next flight were asked to make a third line behind the other two, and everyone with a stroller or carrying a baby was immediately escorted into a fourth line where they were questioned and scanned.
“Michael, what are we going to do? Our flight leaves in five minutes. If we don’t go over there, we’ll miss it, but if they scan your band, you’ll be caught.”
“And if I’m caught, I can’t take you to…um.” He surveyed the terminal, his lips pursed. “We need a distraction. Follow me.”
“Are you crazy?” I whispered as we joined the third line.
“No, not yet. You’ll see, I think.” He nodded toward the lady in front of us who was holding a white and gray spotted cat in her arms. He fumbled in my bag and produced Victoria’s magic pacifier, holding it in his open palm. The synthetic nipple throbbed and clicked, sending the cat into a hypnotic state of desire, and me into a rekindled state of want for my baby girl.
“Simon owns an overweight Persian cat named Tom. One day when we were working in the lab, he told me about Tom’s favorite toy, a baby’s pacifier. Watch this.” He snickered and flicked the pacifier like a bottle cap, sending it into a crowd of passengers twenty yards away.
&nb
sp; The cat leaped from its owner’s arms. “Oh no, my cat. Someone help me!” the woman shouted. Three additional screams followed as the naughty kitty darted between the legs of two women who were standing within inches of the clicking pacifier. Both PATs lowered their back wheels to make the chase.
“Go, now,” he said, darting toward the first line of scanned passengers who were already boarding the bus. Michael pushed me three passengers ahead of him, creating a bit of distance between us, and we made it down the aisle and into two empty benches across from each other in the rear.
The flight back to Australia seemed longer than the first, especially since we pretended, once again, to be strangers. After our quick escape, my adrenaline was high, keeping my heartbeat strong and my nerves on edge, but after a nap, we were finally back in the land down under.
“I need to check out the map again,” I told him after we unloaded at the terminal and he jogged up to my side. “There’s a park. We can make a pit stop there.” I pointed to a large patch of grass with a hoveryard in one corner.
Two unsupervised children in the hoveryard bounced weightlessly on plastic animals with exaggerated, cartoon-like faces. One waved to me, and I waved back, before we sat down on a bench, and I suddenly missed Victoria all over again.
I unrolled the E-Paper and examined it, regarding Magnum’s personal notes and instructions. “It’s not far. We’re at the edge of Division Three, Subdivision One, and Travel’s brother lives just down the street in Division Three, Subdivision Two.” Melbourne, Australia, was the twenty-first-century translation. “I sure hope he’s home.”
He looked up at the sky and held out his hand as if he was trying to catch a drop of rain. “He should be. If I’m remembering correctly, Sector Nine is eighteen hours ahead of L.A. I’m guessing it’s around seven thirty in the evening here.”
“You’re spot on,” I said, looking at my banded wrist.
After studying the map, Michael and I walked through and behind several subdivisions, or neighborhoods, following footpaths that kept us from the obscuras aimed at various angles and at the houses clustered in each block of land. Travel’s brother’s house, 2-27, was the last home on the end of the street, and being last, it was set slightly farther apart from the others on a larger parcel of land.
My anxiety level doubled. “Magnum should be there waiting for us, and he’ll have Victoria,” I declared, my voice breaking as I was overcome by the thought of my sweet girl.
“He said he’d be watching for us. That doesn’t mean he’ll be there the minute we walk through the door, so don’t be disappointed.”
From a field behind the back fence, we could see the back door clearly. A pair of boots layered in fresh mud lay next to a dirty shovel on the back porch. Two birds, mechanical ones, I might add, sat on a metal perch, twitching their wings above an overturned self-watering dog bowl.
“It looks like he’s home. Are you sure he’ll help us? Travel and his brother kind of grew apart.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he will. I read his profile. He works at the local power plant. He’s a low-wage earner, but his worker’s benefits earned him the use of this house and a hovercar. And here’s the interesting thing. Last year he filed two complaints against his employer for privacy breaches. He thought the company was trying to brainwash him. Now he’s labeled a non-conformist with paranoid tendencies—just the guy we need right now. Come on. Follow me.”
The back gate opened easily. “There’s an obscura,” I said as I skirted behind a pair of trees.
“Magnum said that the houses in this section of the region were part of the first development, which means that each home has an independent security system, one that can be turned on or off by the owner. That’s another reason why we decided to ask Travel’s brother for a safe place to stay.”
“If Magnum’s not already here with Victoria, we’ll need to tell Trail to turn off the outdoor obscuras.”
Magnum and Victoria better be there. The anxiety of not knowing was driving me crazy.
“And I know how to do that.” Michael bent down and raked his hands across the dirt at his feet. “I’ll throw rocks at the door. That should activate the birds.”
“You mean those robotic things?”
“Yeah, those robotic things are a doorbell. They’re called Whimsy Birds. They were popular about five years ago. The fad didn’t last. They were too noisy and irritating…”
“Unless you’re a guy who thinks the government’s trying to control you.”
“Exactly.” Michael pitched a handful of pebbles at the door.
“When he comes out, I’ll call him over. I’ll try not to let him speak until I get a blocker under his L-Band.” Michael handed me one of Magnum’s L-Band inhibitors.
“A guy with his track record might be on high surveillance even if they don’t suspect he’s going to help us. We’re kind of taking our chances with him, but he’s the best one we’ve got right now.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, slipping out from behind a tree.
Another spray of pebbles set the birds into a squawk that made my ears ring with a clamor of metal wings reminiscent of a possessed pinwheel. Within minutes, the back door opened and a man stepped onto the back porch. He immediately noticed me and my signal to stay mute, a “shhh” with an index finger parallel to my mouth.
When he was close enough, I grabbed his wrist—no L-Band blocker—meaning Magnum wasn’t there yet. My heart dropped as I slipped the disk under his L-Band. “Now you can talk.”
“Wow. I must be dreaming because it’s been a long time since a pretty girl tried to get my attention.” He laughed.
“I wish it was a dream.”
It was cold. A thick cover of clouds filled the sky during the last half hour, bringing a sprinkle of rain that could be felt as the wind picked up. “Well, if it was a dream, it’s over now.” Trail frowned as Michael made his appearance. “The pretty ones are always taken.”
“We need to talk to you. Can you please turn off your outdoor security system, just until we get inside?” He was puzzled, but he stepped backward, almost tripping as he entered the back door. “And don’t remove the chip under your band,” I added.
After Trail leaned through the doorframe and shut off the alarm, he waved for us to join him on the porch. “Don’t tell me you work for Region Control,” he said as we entered a small living room with slick, white walls and beige, boxy furniture.
“No, far from it,” said Michael. “I’m Michael Bennett and this is Cassie Dannacher.” Michael offered his hand for a shake. Trail hesitated and then took it.
Trail’s hair was light blond, almost white, with eyebrows and eyelashes to match, causing his pale-blue eyes to pop above his cherub-like cheeks and broad nose. I held my gaze and added a smile.
“We’re friends of your brother,” Michael added quickly.
“As long as you’re not from Region Control,” said Trail. “When I came home from work, I found my dog dead in his bed. German Sheppard named Elk. The poor boy was half blind and could hardly walk, but he was still the best guard dog ever, even better than those damn birds out there. I took care of him the old-fashioned way. Buried him right out back less than an hour ago. I thought my neighbors saw and reported me to the region.”
Way to go, Trail. I liked this guy already even if he hadn’t been Travel’s brother. He was very short, shorter than me, and wide enough to take up half the couch he was offering us to sit on. It must have been difficult for him to grow up with such an attractive, athletic brother, especially with Travel having enough charisma for the both of them.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about your dog,” I said.
“Thanks. He was old, it was his time. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, but damn it’s tough. I’m sure going to miss him,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, sorry about your dog,” added Michael.
The gnawing intensity of our journey, the pressure, the fear, the close calls with the P
ATs and porters, a dead dog, and the knowledge that Magnum was not here waiting for us were enough to unbalance all of my stored emotions. Suppressing my tears was futile. Once my lower lip started to quiver, forget it.
“What’s wrong? Does it have something to do with my brother?” Trail asked me when the first tear dropped.
Michael spoke first. “Yes, it does.”
“Is he okay?”
“Actually, he’s…”
Michael didn’t have to finish his sentence. My tears and Michael’s eyes held the answer.
“No, I don’t believe it. Someone would’ve contacted me. I’m his only next of kin. I’d be the first one notified.”
“Not when the government’s involved with his death,” said Michael.
We told our tale from the beginning, the very beginning, although Michael didn’t disclose our final, secret destination.
During our bizarre story, Trail nodded and his eyes blazed with anger toward the president and the Van Winkle Project’s false promises. Never once did he slip into a state of denial or disbelief. He cried when we reached the end of our account.
Michael said, “You couldn’t have helped him, but you can help us now, please, and in doing so help Travel’s daughter. We don’t have anyone else to turn to. We trust you.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll do anything for my brother’s baby, the mother of his child, and the man who tried to help him.” Trail wiped his red eyes and snorted against his palm.
Where were Magnum and Victoria? I stared out the back window for the umpteenth time, hoping to see him slipping through the yard with my baby bundled in his arms.
“I don’t think your house is under surveillance, at least not yet, or the authorities would have been here by now. But by tomorrow, that could all change. Magnum told me that a basic surveillance upgrade could be ordered by the team and installed by a bot in just a few hours. How many obscuras do you have on your property?”
“One at each door, front and back, but there aren’t any obscuras inside the house. In fact, they just sent me a message today, saying they’re going to send a crew to complete the necessary system advances.”
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