Upon Stilted Cities - The Winds of Change

by Michael Kilman

  17 laughed, it was a sarcastic and heavy laugh filled with all the irony the world could muster. “So you liberate people by killing them, you set them free by allowing them to run through the Barrens without an EnViro suit? Do you have any idea how insane you sound?”

  “If they are truly innocent, they souls live on in the eternal gardens of Gaia.”

  “Yeah? That’s what every religious leader had said throughout history when they wanted to justify violence.”

  “Shut your mouth, or I’m going to show you exactly what it feels like to run in the Barrens with no suit.”

  “I don’t think you will. No, I’m famous, you said yourself, and this Roderick character wants me. So I think I’m safe from your bullshit, from your ideological garbage. You know what else got us down this path to migration? The exact same kind of unthinking and unfeeling ideological garbage that you are spitting out of your mouth."

  “What the fuck do you know about any of that shit?”

  “What do I know? I was there, lady. I am a hell of a lot older than you. I lived through climate change. I lived through the third world war and hell it brought. I lost my son to that war and the satellite drones that rained hell down from space. I know a fuck of a lot more about life and death than you do. How old you? A few hundred years, maybe? You’re just a kid, and so is this fucking Roderick, children who are playing with things they don’t fully understand.”

  Again there was a pause before the response.

  “Those architects told us the earth would restore itself and has it? I don’t see any plants or bushes out here. All I see is holes from all the drilling the cities have done. I see dunes and rocks and all the other things that tell me that the Earth has gotten worse, not better.”

  “I haven’t quite been to the four corners of this world. But I know that what you did to Langeles is disgusting, and you and your Children of Gaia, you’re nothing but a bunch of cowards.”

  “Yeah, well, Langeles is only the beginning.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked 17. He knew exactly what she was getting at. He wanted her to slip up, to tell him more about what they were planning.

  “Langeles is bait. We set a nice trap for other cities, as soon as they get to that salvage we will take them all down, every last one of them.”

  Now he knew he had to get to Daniels. She had said some of them were in the cities. There was no one in Manhatsten he could trust except Daniels. He was far too old and cranky and cared about his job too much to be a spy.

  Her face changed. 17 could tell that she knew she had said too much. Her brows narrowed at him, and she pulled her blade again and lifted her pistol toward his head.

  “Start. Walking.”

  He hesitated. He had to wait for the right moment. Getting this intel to Daniels was the most important thing right now. He could kill this woman later.

  “Where?” asked 17.

  “Southeast.”

  He turned and started walking.

  “Is that where your base is?”

  “No, I am going to take you a little way into the Barrens and then blindfold you. There is no way in hell I would let you know where our base is now.”

  “There’s just one thing,” said 17. He turned to face her for a moment.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s about my AI.”

  “What about it?" She paused for a moment. "Come on, spit it out already.”

  “AI, protocol 17.”

  The EnViro suit’s shelter flashed outward and knocked the Runner back. 17 completely ejected from the suit this time and it wrapped her body as she fell. The gun and knife spun out of her hand before she hit the ground. 17 snatched up the gun and with a few complicated hand gestures took it apart and threw the various pieces in different directions. He didn’t wait for Miss to get back up before he started running. Manhatsten was close, and he thought he might be able to make it to the outer security perimeter before she could catch up.

  He could hear the woman screaming with rage.

  “You mother fucker! Get your cowardly ass back here. Don’t you dare run away.”

  He glanced back as he ran. She thrashed around inside the shelter, scrambling to get free.

  “Get back here!” she screamed.

  Running at full speed, he didn’t look back again. It would only take her a few more minutes to break free from the shelter, but by that time he would be gone.

  “AI, are the Manhatsten’s salvage vehicles out yet?”

  “From this distance, it is difficult to confirm, but at the moment it does not appear so, 17.”

  “Let’s hope they aren’t, because as much as I hate that fucking city, I’m sure as hell not going to let those genocidal pricks get their hands on it.”

  There was a chance to save Manhatsten from attack. It was a small chance, but 17 knew that luck was on his side. It always was.

  He ran for several kilometers and then, with blinding pain, his wound ripped open. Blood flowed again. He fell to his knees. He could no longer outrun the COG Runner. He glanced back, but he didn’t see her. He could not will his body to go forward. Instead, he lay down against the hot earth.

  He could see Manhatsten. He could see the towering skyscrapers, the massive legs and the hunk of excavated rock on which the city stood. To the left of him were the ruins of Langeles, and across the ruins, Saud had arrived.

  “AI?” His voice shook. The pain punctuated his every breath.

  “Yes, 17.”

  “Remember your promise.” He swallowed hard. “If I die, don’t let them recycle me.”

  He closed his eyes.

  Epilogue

  The stalactites dripped water ever so slowly into the Elder’s reflective pond. The dripping echoed through the high walls of the cavern deep inside the earth. Far away from the vengeful winds and the angry sun, the Elder sat in almost complete silence. Wisdom came in time; there was no need to rush it, to hurry it along down a path it wasn’t willing.

  The Elder opened his eyes and stared blankly into the surface of the water. Gently he leaned forward and stirred the water with his right pinky finger. The water, so clear that it was barely visible, became clouded and muddled. Images rose, and a man in a large and strange bulky attire allowed himself to be known. He could not see the man’s face, but on his left arm was the long-faded outline of stitches, glowing where numbers had once been. The numbers were 1 and then 7; a number of change, a number of infinite possibilities, a number so odd for a man to wear.

  More people began to surface in the water. A man missing his right hand, a woman of such anger that even some of the gods feared her, a young girl with great potential, a man missing his tongue, a woman who could fly, and another man, who was the father of them all. They were more, but they were only shadows. All their paths intertwined.

  The Elder turned and looked at the tower behind him; it stretched almost to the surface. That tower was the great pillar that held up the earth. He knew that the destiny of all pillars was to fall. These people, they would bring change to their underground city. Not good change, not bad change, the wheel would turn. The wind would blow. Things had a way of circling around, converging and changing the nature of the wheel, but that did not stop the turning. The many trees surrounding the space rustled in agreement, though there was no wind.

  The Elder gave thanks and offered a little tobacco to the spirit of the pond and then lit his sacred pipe. This bearer of 1 and 7 would turn the wheel himself, but first, he must be anointed in the blood of sacrifice. The trees again acknowledge the Elder’s thoughts. They spoke well of this 1 and 7. Only the blood of the past, the blood of the present, and the blood of the future would prepare him for his final task.

  A young one approached him, one who had not yet chosen his path.

  “Elder, my apologies, I do not mean to interrupt your conversation.”

  “It is fine, young Derrick; the conversation is over. The spirit of this place has shown me what it will.�
�

  “Elder Phoenix, a man, has come into our city. He is a strange armored suit and injured.”

  “Is he marked by a 1 and 7?”

  “No Elder, but he is missing a hand.”

  “Ah, so he is the one who comes first, then. I had thought it would be the other way ‘round.”

  “Welcome him into our midst, but keep him under guard. This one will think himself clever, think to have us join his cause, but when his mouth opens, only blood will flow forth. Make the citizens wary of this man, but do not treat him unkindly. The one we are waiting for, the one who we must welcome, is the man of the 1 and 7 and whomever he brings with him.”

  “As you wish, Elder. Um... may I ask, have you consulted Aeis on this 1 and 7?”

  “Fear of the wheel turning won’t stop it. It was Aeis who originally revealed the 1 and 7 designation. Go and tell the people my message.”

  “Yes, of course, Elder.”

  Derrick turned to leave.

  “One more thing, young one.”

  “Yes, Elder?”

  “Your time for choosing is at hand. There is nothing more I can teach you. You must decide between the storm and the depth, and you must do it quickly.”

  “But Elder...”

  “Delay much further, and you will fall in between, and it is doubtful you will find the way forward again.”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  “You’ve already made your choice; it is fear that holds you back.”

  “Yes Elder, I know, fear does not stop the wheel from turning.”

  Phoenix smiled at the boy. He would choose storm, he was sure of it. So few chose storm as he, so many generations ago, had. The storm was much more dangerous than depth, but only those of the storm nature could lead. Aeis felt this boy was the next leader. Several centuries of leadership had made the Elder tired; even with Aeis’s support and guidance, the road had been long and winding.

  “What do you choose, young Derrick?”

  “I choose...”

  “Say what is in your heart, not what is in your mind.” Elder’s words were sharp, but still friendly.

  “Then I choose... Storm.”

  The Elder smiled at him. “Then let preparations begin. Tell others that you are of the storm now. Oh, and tell the man with the one hand that the Elder Phoenix will see him shortly.”

  “Thank you, Elder.”

  The boy turned and left. Phoenix knew that the one-handed man would bring some of his anger and violence with him, but in the end, they would take the location of their city from his mind. No one would visit violence upon the people of this city, Elder Phoenix and Aeis would see to that, at least until the coming of 17. When he came, the wheel would turn.

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  About the Author

  Michael Kilman is an anthropologist who occasionally visits other worlds and reports back what he finds. When he isn’t writing fiction he is lecturing at a few universities in the Denver metro area, or working on his YouTube series ‘Anthropology in 10 or Less.’ Michael can be found at his website, loridianslaboratory.com, and on Twitter at @LoridiansLab.

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