Beyond Ever Blue Skies

by Clive S. Johnson

  “I’ll not be caught out a second time,” he told the control desk, but then something in that part of Ken’s description that dealt with this particular service pod distracted him.

  “Oh, wow! So that’s how it’s done,” and then he clicked his tongue. “How it can be used singlehandedly—and why Ken needed to recruit a lecy-eng.”

  Morgan rested his elbow on the desk and brought his hand up to his forehead in thought—yelping yet again. But this time he didn’t curse his own forgetfulness but Mr Craytov’s interference.

  “Thanks a bunch, boss. So, how am I going to get back into my workshop without an active job number to offer your blasted door?”

  17 Rosie

  “Well, why don’t you just create a fault here? Then you’ll get called out to it,” Stephanie suggested as Morgan spooned a couple of sugars into the coffee she’d placed before him on the kitchenette counter.

  “But it could be any lecy-eng who gets the call,” he told her. “We’re allocated on a rota, you see, and there are quite a few of us.”

  She placed her own mug beside Morgan’s and sat next to him, then quietly stirred her coffee for a while. “Do all lecy-engs have to go into the workshops at the start of each new job?”

  “All the others, yes. I can’t imagine anyone else has thought to remotely link themselves into the system. I only did it myself because Craytov had restricted my access.”

  “Do the others know about your restriction?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not. Why?”

  “Create a fault here, then hang around near the workshops for whoever gets the call and slip in with them. You know, pretend you just happened to be going in at the same time. Just make sure they open the door before you—simple.”

  Morgan stared at her for a moment, then to her evident surprise, pecked her on the lips. “You’re the genius this time, Steph. Great idea…provided no one else really does know about my restriction. But if they don’t, and thinking about it, I reckon I can improve on your idea.”

  He looked around her kitchenette as he unclipped his tool-pack from his belt. “So, what can you live without for a couple of hours?”

  ***

  Morgan sat with his second coffee of the hour at a table in the window of a café in the avenue that faced the end of the lecy workshops’ alley. He’d only got halfway through his now seemingly flat and characterless drink when he spotted Daniel Dillinger hurrying down the avenue towards the workshops.

  Slipping out of the café as Daniel turned into the alley, Morgan crossed the avenue. He called after his colleague as the man approached the workshops’ door, and from where Daniel turned and stared at Morgan for a moment.

  “Ah, it’s you, Morgan. What you doing down this end?”

  “Looks like the same as you, going into the workshops. I think I left something behind when I was in the other day, or at least I hope it’s here. If not, I’ve lost it. You on a call?”

  Daniel looked disappointed as he nodded.

  “Anything interesting?”

  “No, just some domestic trip on JAC507. No doubt some dumb agri’s stuck a fork into a lamp unit or something.” Morgan hung back so Daniel would have to glance into the reader first, after which the door clicked opened. “After you, Morgan.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  As Morgan led the way upstairs, he barked a short laugh. “You’re a lucky sod. Wish I’d been the one to get the call. Today’s been a bit boring so far.”

  “Boring? I wish I could say the same. Talk about crap timing: I had a hot lunch date arranged. She won’t be at all pleased when I finally work up the courage to cancel.”

  “Aw, that’s a bummer,” and Morgan stopped and feigned a moment’s thought. “You know, I wouldn’t mind doing the job for you, seeing you’re in a bit of a spot. As I say, I’ve nothing important on today.”

  “You wouldn’t, would you? I know we’re not supposed to, but…well, she is hot, and it’s taken me weeks to get this far.”

  Morgan assured him he didn’t mind, then suggested Daniel go and log the job as started, so he could get straight off to his date. Before long Morgan was wishing Daniel all the best as his colleague thanked him yet again and hurried off towards the stairs.

  “I’ll let you know the details when I’m done,” Morgan shouted after him, “then you can come in and log the job as finished whenever you want.” As the front door closed behind Daniel, Morgan smiled to himself before slipping back into his own workshop.

  Whilst Morgan had waited for Daniel to log the job, he’d avoided his coffee machine and screens, for fear they might alert Craytov to his presence. Now alone, he went straight to the parts racks along the rear wall. Soon liberated from its packaging, a brand-new perscom lay face-down on his bench, the back of its case removed.

  A stare at the circuit board now before him and he quickly blinked up Ken’s instructions. “A ‘TCD25’, eh?” and he returned to the parts racks, tracing his finger along their labels. “Here we are,” and he took out a small box and returned with it to the bench.

  Extracting a tiny, thin, metal-cased component from its socket on the perscom’s circuit board, he briefly held it up, close to his eye. “So, a ‘TCD30’.” This he put on one side before taking the new component out of its box and inserting it into the socket. Then he reassembled the perscom. As soon as he pulled out its battery’s isolation tag, the word “Searching” appeared in his vision. He blinked at it and it vanished.

  “Who are you?” a neutral voice then slipped into his ear.

  “Morgan Travis.”

  “Hello, Morgan. And what would you like to call me?”

  “Rosie. I’ll call you Rosie.”

  “In which case,” a now female voice said, “hello, Morgan, I’m Rosie. Pleased to meet you.”

  “And you, Rosie. Now, please set yourself as my secondary device.”

  “Done. But I have a connection problem I can’t seem to resolve. You will need to report it for me.”

  “Don’t worry, Rosie. I know you have. Let’s just keep it between the two of us, eh?”

  “As you wish.”

  “It’ll be sorted out before too long, anyway.”

  “Okay, Morgan. If you say so.”

  18 Freedom Trumps Pleasure

  As Morgan closed the workshop door on his way out into the alley, a voice at his back startled him.

  “So, Morgan, you got any closer to knowing what you’ve got to do?”

  He spun around, heart racing, and hissed, “Shit, Edsel. Sneak up on me, why don’t you!”

  Although clearly forced, Edsel’s neutral expression never wavered. “Well?”

  “I was going to call you today,” Morgan said, having thought nothing of the sort. “To arrange a meeting with Connie-Jay.”

  “So, you know what’s involved now, do you?” to which Morgan only nodded. “And it’s all do-able…by you, I mean?” and Morgan again nodded. Then Edsel narrowed his eyes and his mouth firmed a little more. “How long, then?”

  “How long?”

  “Till Connie-Jay gets to talk wi’ Ken?”

  “Oh, er, well, it’s going to be a while.”

  “How long’s a ‘While’?”

  Morgan took a deep breath. “I’ll be working out the detail this morning, so I can give Connie-Jay a more accurate idea this afternoon,” but the barely veiled simmering threat now in Edsel’s eyes sent a shiver through Morgan, and he turned away.

  “So let me know when I can go and see her,” he called over his shoulder as he hurriedly escaped the man’s stare and retreated down the alley. His own sights now were set only on getting back to be with Stephanie.

  When he reached her family’s apartment and she let him in, Morgan told her he’d just bumped into her uncle, then asked her what she thought he was up to. “It’s as though he wants to know everything before Connie-Jay gets to hear.”

  “He wasn’t by any chance angling to know how soon she’d be back talking to Ken again, was he?
”

  Morgan only stared at her, his mouth dropping open.

  “He was here earlier, Morgan, asking me the very same question.”

  “You didn’t tell him where I’d gone, did you?”

  “Of course not. Why should I?”

  “Then he must have been following me about, spying on me! Just a minute… How can he have if he was here bugging you?”

  “He wouldn’t need to follow you himself; he has underlings to do that for him.”

  Morgan stared at her until she looked away. “Who is your uncle, Steph? I mean, what does he do? other than supposedly working for Connie-Jay. And don’t say ‘This and that’.”

  Stephanie sat on the sofa and stared at the floor, until glancing up at him.

  “Sit down, Morgan, will you? I don’t like men looming over me. It makes me nervous.”

  He sat on the chair opposite and waited for Stephanie to find her voice.

  Quietly, she told him, “My uncle’s always been the big man around here,” then explained how he’d long maintained that position through fear of violence tempered by the provision of strong beer and good coffee—amongst other things. She paused for a long minute before she seemed able to speak again.

  “It seems, from what I badgered my mum into telling me last night, that when Connie-Jay lost her link with Ken, she was forced to turn to my uncle, to rely on his strong position amongst the agris. I suppose… Well, I suppose it made her feel less alone with her responsibilities. More secure, what with Ken no longer being there for her.”

  “Steph?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What is this ‘Promised Land’ you keep talking about…really?”

  “The Promised… Nobody knows, Morgan, not really, not even Connie-Jay, but all agris certainly know how important it is. More important than anything else.”

  “Than strong beer, good coffee and…and other things, eh, Steph?”

  “It’s where the strong and the young are destined to go on the day of reckoning, when everyone’s worth’s to be leant up against the measuring post; when we’re chosen or not.”

  “But chosen for what—exactly? What and where is this Promised Land supposed to be, Steph?”

  She stared blankly at him, almost through him, but then her eyes became strangely alive. “It’s where our freedom is, Morgan. Where all chosen agris can at last be free to make their own lives.”

  “Free of what, though? What is it within Rundkern, Steph, that you’re all hoping to escape?”

  The apartment’s outer door clicked open and light footsteps came into the hallway, then a woman’s neat figure appeared in the living room doorway.

  “Ah, so this must be the elusive Morgan,” the woman said, her low and mellow voice sliding into the room, her dark eyes glinting as a smile lifted a corner of her mouth.

  “Morgan, this is my mum,” Stephanie mumbled as she twisted around to look up at her.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Morgan said, rising to his feet. He stepped around the sofa and reached out his hand, but her brows only lofted as she stared down at it. Before he could lower it, though, she raised her own and they finally shook, a tingling heat seeming to pass through Morgan’s hand. But she soon snatched her own away and stepped back into the hallway.

  “Coffees?” she asked them both, then she was gone. Morgan stared at his hand, even when her voice came from the kitchenette, low but penetrating: “You can’t be calling me Steph’s Mum all the time, Morgan, so you’d best know I answer to Lynne.”

  “Okay…Lynne. Do you need a hand in there?”

  “She can manage on her own,” Stephanie told him, her head tilted to one side and her eyes darting about his face when he looked down at her.

  Then a call came in and Morgan noted it was from Edsel. “Shit,” he whispered, and Stephanie’s scrutiny turned to a look of enquiry. “Your uncle’s calling me,” he said, continuing to whisper. “I think the time’s come to go and see Connie-Jay.”

  “Then you’d better answer him,” she said, reaching up to take his hand, a gentle squeeze dispelling the lingering warmth it still seemed to hold.

  “Hello, Edsel,” he said. “So, where and when?”

  “Erebus; two o’clock,” Edsel said in clipped tones. “You and…and Stephanie. Let yourselves in,” and the connection abruptly ended.

  Morgan told Stephanie then asked if he could use her bedroom for an hour or so, to prepare for their meeting with Connie-Jay. Lynne came in with their coffees and he took his with him as Stephanie showed him to the solitude of her own room.

  Come two o’clock and they were both standing at the door to Erebus, Morgan staring at its number plate. “I hope your uncle’s not here,” he said as he reached up and placed his fingertip on the letter “E”. The door clicked open and he drew a breath at the sight of the descending staircase. “It still seems weird going below sub-floor level.” Stephanie smiled at him then took his arm and led him in, closing the door behind them.

  Connie-Jay was sitting in the lone chair as they rounded the bottom of the stairs and came into the chamber. But Edsel stood to one side, and Morgan’s heart sank.

  “Ah,” Connie-Jay called without turning, “most punctual. I like that. Come in, come in, you two.” When they joined her, she stared hard into Morgan’s eyes. “Edsel tells me you’re able to get Ken’s link working again.”

  “Yes,” Morgan said, and her eyes softened.

  “So, my clever lecy-eng, when will I be able to speak with him?”

  “There’s no simple answer, I’m afraid,” but he noted that Edsel seemed to hang on his every word, more so than her. “Most of the reconfigurations can be done promptly,” he told her, “but there are a handful that will need system reboots to bring the changes into effect, plus I’ll need to run a few hundred metres of new fibre.”

  “I’m afraid, young man, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. Just tell me, in simple terms, how long it’s going to take.”

  “It’s hard to say because those changes that require system restarts will have to wait for when they’re scheduled, so there’s no disruption to the services they already provide. And anyway, I can’t do them remotely.”

  When Connie-Jay’s eyes narrowed at Morgan, Stephanie hurriedly said, “Just tell them the worst and best cases you’ve worked out, Morgan.”

  He drew in a long breath. “Best case, assuming the scheduled reboots happen the night after each… Well, soonest is five days.”

  “And the worst case?” Edsel asked.

  “Three weeks,” Morgan guardedly told him, but to Morgan’s surprise, the man noticeably seemed to relax as he turned his gaze surreptitiously towards Stephanie. And for the first time since meeting the man, Morgan watched him smile freely.

  19 Progress

  Over the next couple of days Morgan got on with meticulously working his way through Ken’s list of tasks. The first half dozen or so needed no system reboots and his testing soon proved his changes to have been successful. He’d noted during all this that Ken had provided only enough access information to reach those areas to be altered, but that occasionally more had been unavoidably revealed.

  He’d quickly become fascinated by the far vaster picture it increasingly gave of Rundkern’s complexity and seemingly inordinate size. So the idea of another world, one probably hidden above the false sky, had steadily made The Promised Land more and more a tenable prospect. Nothing he’d found so far, though, had given any clue as to its whereabouts or its nature.

  On the evening of the second day, having earlier completed a change that incurred a wait for a reboot the following night, Morgan arranged to see Stephanie. They met outside the bar where they’d had their first drink together, what to Morgan now seemed an age ago.

  Drinks soon in hand, they wandered out to the yard for some better privacy, and to where fewer people were likely to stare at the now large purple bruise on Morgan’s forehead. Finding an empty corner table, they sat for a while without spe
aking.

  He’d got halfway down his glass of beer, relishing the absence of network diagrams and the like from his vision, before their silence finally impinged. He brought his gaze from an unseen distance and focused it on Stephanie.

  “You all right?” he asked, knotting his discoloured brow.

  She started at his voice. “Oh, yeah. Fine. Why?”

  “Well, it’s just I thought you’d have been keen to know how I was getting on.”

  “Getting on?”

  “You know, with Ken’s tasks.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. Of course. So…how’s it going?” but her eyes didn’t seem to sparkle in the usual way.

  “It’s all gone smoothly…so far. There’s nothing I can do now until the day after tomorrow, though.” He tried to hold her gaze but it had already wandered off towards the peppering of stars that overarched the yard.

  “What’ve you been doing whilst I’ve been nose-to-the-grindstone, then?” he said as he too stared at what they now both knew to be an illusion.

  She snapped her gaze to him. “When will you be needing my help, then?”

  “Eh? Oh, well, not till the day after tomorrow, if all goes well. I’ve some cabling to install, so I could use a hand then,” but her interest had already turned back to the night sky.

  He was about to ask again if she felt all right when she pursed her lips briefly before asking: “You know when we nearly ran into that mess of haphazard stuff up there?”

  He again followed her gaze, and he too stared at the sky. “Yes. What about it?”

  “What would have happened had we not stopped when we did?”

  “Well, from the urgency in Ken’s warning, I reckon we’d not be here tonight…not here at all, in fact.” He dropped his gaze to see her draw in her lips as she peered even harder at the sky.

  “What was all that mess we nearly ran into? Do you know?”

  “I think it was a damaged part of the shaft’s wall. Maybe where there’s been an explosion or something; something that’s made a big hole, anyway; buckled the metal and whatnot out into the pod’s pathway.”