THE COWBOY OF PINNACLE CITY
There is truth in fiction. Fiction becomes our truth. The truth becomes reality.
BRETTON FERRARO
THE COWBOY OF PINNACLE CITY
Copyright © 2017 by Bretton Ferraro.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact :
[email protected]
Book and Cover design by Bretton Ferraro
Written by Bretton Ferraro
Copy Edit by Wes Smith
ISBN: 978-1-5323-3728-4
First Edition: March 2017
CONTENTS
THE COWBOY OF PINNACLE CITY
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16………………………………………………………………...……318
This book is dedicated to my sweet wife, my beautiful daughters, to my dear friend Jon, and to the good Lord who encourages me to keep writing.
1
THAT’S HOW IT STARTS
THE FUTURE IS DISTANT. THE PAST IS PAST. HERE IN THE PRESENT, WE WILL OUTLAST. – Party Creed
It was a perfect autumn afternoon. The air was warm but the wind was cool, and a nice breeze was flowing through the city. The clouds were puffy and full of life, and the sun was shining bright.
Jonathan was taking a pleasure cruise on the Outband Highway, a highway that took him around the outskirts of the sprawling city, Pinnacle. He would normally be stuck in the confines of the city, but today, today he needed to get out and be free. He needed to escape from the mundane life in the city.
He was driving his Atlas Grade 1 vehicle. It was standard issue for all citizens. It was without tires and able to hover a few feet over the grid-system of the highways and roadways. What was not standard with the Grade 1 vehicle was a convertible top.
Jonathan was a young man at the age of 30. He was driving along the Outband with his dark hair, which was normally clean and properly combed, and flowing in the wind. His short stubble on his face was standing upright in the cool breeze. He had his free arm hanging out of the vehicle, flowing with the passing wind. With his dark sunglasses adorned on his face, and he was without a care. He had his oldies music blaring. He preferred the classics to the new age style.
The road was a long looping highway that reached to the hills far outside the city. In the distance were the cold and towering skyscrapers of the city’s center. Jonathan came out here to get away from the concrete labyrinth of Pinnacle City. Out here there were trees. It was fall time and that meant that beautiful colors of autumn could be seen throughout the hills.
Posted every mile, on the mile, were speed limit signs of 60 miles per hour. Every Atlas Grade 1 vehicle was equipped with a governing board that prevented any civilian vehicle from going over 55.
Along with the time spent acquiring the vehicle, Jonathan also took the liberty of overriding the code on the governing board. Instead of topping out at 55, he was cruising along at 75 mph. Perfect for this type of drive.
Jon was without fear of Enforcement Personnel. They were heavily saturated in the midst of the city and paid little attention to the outlying areas. It was unusual for a citizen like himself to be out this far. This was where the wealthy lived. Jon shouldn’t run into any trouble out here.
With that thought passing through his through his mind, he looked into his rear-view mirror and felt his heart jumping into his throat.
Enforcement Personnel.
They were an unmistakable presence. They drove the Atlas Grade 2 vehicle, a much sleeker and more sophisticated model. They were not equipped with governing boards and were free to speed as they saw fit.
Suddenly lights began flashing from the interior of Jonathan’s vehicle. The projection screen on his dashboard changed from his music to the face of an Enforcement officer.
“Attention citizen of Pinnacle City, you are in violation of highway code 431, 431-A and jurisdictional vehicular code 131. Prepare to have your engine seized. Please remain in your vehicle for Enforcement Personnel to assist you.” The moment the image disappeared from the dashboard, the motor to his vehicle was shutdown.
Enforcement had complete control over every Atlas Grade 1 vehicle. A feature Jon couldn’t override. Quickly the vehicle pulled itself to the shoulder of the highway and came to a quick but soft stop.
Jonathan sat in heavy anticipation of the trouble he had just gotten himself into. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, and his teeth bit his lips. He watched in his side-mirror as the Enforcement officer approached his vehicle. The officer was wearing the standard enforcement gear – the Tactical Enforcement Battle and Protection Suit. It had stainless steel- and nano-fibers that hugged the officer’s skin. His vital areas, arms, shoulders and legs were plated with a thin and durable plate. His head was covered in much of the same material. His face was covered in the Tactical Control Visor, which provided him with optimal breathing support and a computer system built into the visor of the mask. The officer was a walking cyborg.
The officer approached Jon’s side of the vehicle.
“Citizen, surrender all required encrypted data,” he demanded.
In a sort of disbelief, Jon shook his head yes and was not quite sure how he could be so stupid. He raised the interior of his forearm to face the officer. The officer reached down to his belt and grabbed a small tool. Everything on the belt was magnetic and would only release from the suit at the skin recognition of the approved officer wearing the uniform.
He raised the device and scanned Jon’s arm. Jon kept his head forward but looked through the corner of his eyes. He saw the data running across the interior screen of the officer’s visor, but he could not make out what it said.
“Citizen, remove yourself from your vehicle and prepare for procedure.”
Jonathan was quick to obey the Enforcement Officers demands. He took off his sunglasses, removed himself from the vehicle, and walked around to the front of it. He faced the windshield and raised both of his arms straight out to the side. The officer cautiously walked up behind him, from about a five-foot distance, and scanned Jonathan’s entire body. He was looking for weapons or any other banned paraphernalia.
“Citizen, you are in violation of highway code 431, 431-A and jurisdictional vehicular code 131. In addition, you are in violation of an offense pertaining to criminal code 17. 431 states that you will adhere to posted speed limits. 431-A states that you will not alter the conditions on your governing board to exceed posted speed limits. Code 131 states that you will not alter your vehicle in any way without an express permit to do so – which you do not have. Criminal code 17 states that you will not interfere, deface or repurpose government property. You have two minutes to explain your violations.”
Jon lowered his arms, and turned to face the officer, but the officer quickly corrected his actions.
“You will remain facing the vehicle. You have one minute and fifty-three seconds to explain your violations.”
Jon shook his head in disbelief again bef
ore tripping on his thoughts and offering up words of confusion.
“Well officer, I uh… I… uh… well… I wasn’t trying to break the law or hurt anybody, I just wanted to feel the wind for a change.” Jon waited for a moment to hear the response from the officer. The officer made no comment. Jon looked around awkwardly waiting for some type of response.
When the officer told Jon he had two minutes, he meant it. It was a classic technique used by Enforcement to gather any information from citizens when they were in breach or violation of proper citizenry conduct.
Jon went on, “Well, officer, I can assure you that I meant no harm. I was just looking for a little getaway without actually getting away if you know what I mean?” He turned his head slightly expecting a response from the officer.
Nothing.
Jon clapped his hands together, not knowing what to do with the awkward silence.
“Keep your hands to your side where they can be seen, citizen.”
Jon quickly threw his hands back down to his sides.
“Your two minutes is up,” said the officer.
“Oh thank goodness,” muttered Jon under his breath.
“Pinnacle City records indicate that you are an upstanding citizen without prior offenses. Why would you want to tarnish your record over such offenses, citizen?”
“I uh, I don’t know? I don’t want to tarnish anything.”
“Modifying your vehicle without an appropriate permit is destruction of government property. Modifying the governing board in a Grade 1 vehicle is a criminal offense. Speeding on my highway makes me angry.”
Jon kept biting his lips, “yes sir, I understand that. I’m sorry for interrupting your afternoon.” He was betting on playing nice and dumb to get him out of this situation.
“Fortunately for you citizen I am not going to permanently tarnish your record. Your vehicle will be taken back to the repurposing facility at your expense, and you will have your operating permit suspended. A warning has been noted on your encrypted data, but as long as you go with no further violations, it will be removed.” The officer was firm and unmoving in his tone.
Whether Jon agreed or not did not matter. He nodded his head in strict compliance. He was actually relieved. It could have been worse. He could have had his data permanently tarnished, something that would haunt and follow him for the rest of his life. An untarnished record was something every citizen strived for. It provided them with the highest paying jobs and even high-ranking government jobs. Nobody with success or power had a marked data record.
But much to Jon’s pleasure, the officer was unaware that he had similar encounters with Enforcement in the past. Each time he had gotten off with a verbal warning. This was the first time that the warning was recorded and threatened as a permanent tarnish to Jon’s data file.
The Enforcement officer reached down to his arm and began punching information into the computer built into his suit.
Jonathan knew what was coming next. Suddenly his vehicle’s engine started back up. The officer was sending it to repurposing. It would be stripped of all its custom parts, rebuilt and reissued.
Jon stood and watched as his vehicle drove off down the highway without him.
“Citizen, please remove yourself from the highway before I find you in violation of highway-code 432 and 435: Being present on a highway without an operating license and standing as a pedestrian in a restricted area reserved for vehicles only.”
The officer didn’t budge. He stood over Jon like a stone-cold robot.
“Yes sir,” said Jon. He began to make his way to the barrier along the highway. The officer interrupted him before he could take just a few steps.
“Before exiting the highway, please recite the Party Creed, citizen.”
Jon was now overwhelmed at this point and feeling defenseless. He turned reluctantly to face the officer, “the future is distant, and the past is past. Here in the present, we will outlast.”
“Good day, citizen.” The officer briskly walked back to his Atlas Grade 2 vehicle. He sat in the operator’s seat and waited until Jon had removed himself from the shoulder of the highway. Then he cranked his motor and took off down the highway, well over the posted speed limit.
Jon stood in the tall and un-kept grass on the side of the highway looking on. He then turned around and walked down the hill and started heading to the nearest public transit station.
He walked along the streets of Desporia, a suburb of Pinnacle City. In all his 30 years, and the many trips around the loop of the Outband, he had never stepped foot in this place. He had never dared. But being stranded in the middle of the highway he was left with no choice.
This was where many of the party members lived. They were situated out in the hills surrounding the city and far removed from the constant turmoil of the concrete labyrinth. All the houses were nearly identical in appearance with maybe a variation or two.
Jon walked calmly with his head down as he headed through the outlying suburb. He was not a party member, and being spotted walking through this neighborhood could prompt another visit from Enforcement Personnel. Something he did not want, and something his data file could not avoid this time.
It was an odd experience. The city was so noisy. There was the constant sound of the transit shuttles blowing through town. There was the endless noise of vehicles flooding the city grid and the ever-present noise that comes from living above and below somebody.
This place had none of that. Jon had only seen it from the distance of the highway. There was grass. There were tall trees and something the city severely lacked: privacy. Desporia was lacking something though, something Jon had to walk a few blocks to figure out and understand. It had no personality. The surfaces of all the homes were the same cold grey. Each yard was planned and landscaped to be identical. Something else he noticed was the street names.
“Valley Meadows,” Jon said out-loud while reading the plaque found on the corner of the street.
He found this very intriguing as the city grid was designated with letters and numbers. Never names.
“Hey!” came a voice from one of the homes Jon was walking next to.
As quietly and unassumingly as he tried to walk through these quiet streets, somebody had spotted him. It was a party member. Jon turned his head to face the man who had shouted him down. He stood there on his porch with a very displeased look on his face. He was a larger man in stature, and he had a gut that fell over his belt. He stood there wearing the low-level party member attire: the military green colors, the Capital City emblem of the lightning bolt through the star on his right chest pocket, and his credentials and medals on his left chest pocket. This party member was a particularly unimpressive fellow. The few medals he had on his chest showed that he was merely a member and of low rank. He probably joined the party for the perks of plenty of food and the privacy of a home. An appealing reason to join the ranks of the ruling party but the quickest way to be sent away for lacking loyalty to the state. This man was only loyal to a steady diet, or lack thereof. He shouldn’t last too much longer in the Capital Guard.
Jon was most clearly not a party member. He was strutting down the resident streets of Desporia with his plain blue; button up long sleeve shirt and khakis.
“What do you think you are doing on these streets?” the man demanded, as he tried to intimidate Jon by puffing out his chest.
It was against city protocol to be in this neighborhood and not be a party member – or at the very least, somebody of importance – which Jon was not. How could Jon explain that he was breaking the law, because he was just caught breaking the law and was merely trying to get home?
“Look,” Jon began as he clasped his hands together, “I’m having a string of bad luck here. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I’m just trying to get to the nearest public station and be on my way home.”
“I should have you on your way to the nearest Enforcement Center,” barked the party member.
Jon th
rew his hands in the air as if he could make a physical plea with the man, “my most sincere apologies for bothering you on such a lovely afternoon. I don’t want any trouble. You’ll never see me again. I’ll just be on my way.” He gave the man an uncomfortable smile, trying to convince him that there was nothing to worry about as he made his way back down the street.
The party member disappeared back into the house.
Jon changed his mind about being unassuming. As soon as he lost eyesight with the party member he took off running. He knew that his little negotiations had failed and that he better get out of sight before Enforcement hunted him down again. He started darting through people’s yards, trying to avoid being seen on the streets by any more party members.
He had made it roughly seven blocks before seeing an unwelcome sight. Enforcement Personnel were heading straight for him from two different directions. They came flying down each end of the road he was about to cross and stopped facing one another within inches of hitting each other. Jon made a calculated move. He turned around and started running back the direction he came.
“Citizen!” came the demands of Enforcement. “Halt your movements and prepare for assistance!” His voice was eerily similar to the officer who stopped him on the Outband. Their helmets changed the tone of their voice to one that is deeper – and robotic. But Jon didn’t listen. He kept going, but before he could even get to the end of the block there were two more Enforcement vehicles that had just arrived.
“Bah!” Jon, let out a cry of frustration, turned back around to the direction he was originally running. The initial Enforcement officers had their weapons drawn and were only 10 feet from him.
In disbelief and frustration, Jon looked down and kicked a bed of flowers that he was standing next to.
“Citizen, you are in violation of housing codes 17 and 113 – trespassing and destruction of property.”
The Cowboy of Pinnacle City Page 1