The Cowboy of Pinnacle City

by Ferraro, Bretton

  “Please try to remember Mr. Ballard, this is a gift to you. I could have had you locked away until everybody you know forgot your name. I see a bright young man who only now has his future in front of him. You are destined for great things.”

  Jon took offense when Greenwald told him, “only now.” He fought everything not to show it. The only future Jon sought was one of peace and quiet. He never meant to get into trouble and he certainly never meant to end up in the confines of being a party member. But what choice did he have at this point? So, he fought back his expressions and merely said, “And I thank you, sir.”

  The smile returned to Greenwald’s face.

  “You are presently enlisted as a Sequestered Private in the Capitol Guard of the Premiere. Your identity as a member of the party will be encrypted on enforcement grade data retrievers. No civilian data retrievers will be able to identify you as such. You will remain in your current day to day employment and tasks. You will be provided with no monetary nor comparable consideration until you have proven your loyalty to the Capital, or otherwise deemed necessary. Your duties as a Sequestered Private will include a daily log that will be submitted at the end of each day. You will look for and report any unsatisfactory behavior, or any suspicious characters to an immediate Enforcement Officer.

  Failure to abide by the guidelines set before you will result in a corrupted data file. You will be expunged from the Capitol Guard and you will serve no less than 2 years in the proper adjustment institute or work force participation camp.”

  Jon was a ghost. Anybody down the hall could hear him swallow.

  Greenwald concluded, “Do I make myself abundantly clear, Sequestered Private Ballard?”

  “Yes sir, abundantly clear, sir.”

  “One more thing Private. Be sure to take that suit off when I take my leave. No one outside of these walls is to know you are a party member until we say they are to know. You will maintain your street identity until further notice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Greenwald let one more, big smile grace his face as he extended his hand to Jon’s “Welcome aboard Private.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  With the last exchange, Greenwald showed himself out. The two Enforcement Personnel remained.

  Jon stared at them for a moment, assuming they would follow Greenwald’s lead out of the room. He wasn’t about to strip down in front of the cyborgs, but it became clear that they had no intention of leaving the room.

  “Gentlemen, may I have some privacy?” he asked the officers.

  “Citizen, you are to exchange the Capital clothing that has been provided for your civilian attire.”

  “Well, can you leave while I do that?”

  “Citizen, please remove the articles of clothing provided by the Capital and place them in the standard issue number five case that has been provided.”

  Jon looked behind him, to the side of the desk.

  “Do you mean the backpack?” he asked the officer.

  They did not respond.

  He looked at both of them. They were stone cold and seemed to be staring right past him, right past the wall behind him and off into the infinite abyss of wherever it was they were staring.

  “Alright, fine. I get it, but I don’t like it.” Jon started removing his party attire and quickly replaced them with the clothes he was dragged in with.

  He stood there and took as much time as he could, buttoning up his blue long-sleeve shirt. The gravity of his situation was beginning to set in. He wasn’t a new member of the party. He wasn’t being welcomed into some secret fraternity. This was the Capital party. He had just become nothing more than a glorified snitch. No, it was worse. It wasn’t even glorifying – it was secretive and forced.

  Jon knew as soon as he finished buttoning up that old shirt of his, he had to take the walk back down that hallway. He knew as soon as he made his way down the hall and beyond the receptionist’s desk, he would no longer be the same man he was this morning. The moment he was pulled over on the highway for petty infractions, his life had changed forever.

  These types of stories had been around since Jon could remember. But that is all they ever were – stories. They were whispers of a ruling class that had a zero tolerance for the disruptors of society or the perceived trouble makers.

  In that moment, he could recall the long-told tale of Bradly Hansen. Hansen had gotten himself into a bit of trouble after he was caught trying to steal canned goods from the local food distribution center, and then he suddenly disappeared that night. He simply disappeared, his living quarters were reissued to somebody else, and that was the end of Hansen. Many years later, those who knew Hansen, could swear he was one of the Enforcement Officers patrolling A through G streets. There was never any way to know for sure. They were walking cyborgs after all.

  The story of Hansen was simply a story– a legend for kids to tell their friends in the classroom when the teacher was not paying them any mind.

  But those old stories began to lend themselves credence, given today’s events. If Jon could simplify things and dumb them down into one thought, the Capital party was made up of half those loyal to the Capital, and half who would rebel against it, but are instead subjects to it. They are dependent on the resources provided, and threatened by the repercussions of failing to carry out their tasks.

  Jon decided that he had nothing to lose by his next question. “Remember Bradly Hansen?” he asked the two officers stationed in front of him.

  The officer standing to his right turned his head slightly to face Jon. It sent a slight chill down Jon’s spine, but the officer said nothing in response. Jon merely nodded his head in the fashion he was accustomed to – never getting the answers he was looking for.

  “Alright, I guess I have no choice but to be ready and on my way then,” he announced to the Enforcement Personnel.

  “Party member Ballard, right this way please.”

  Jon’s brows raised in a sense of amusement. It was nice to hear the words “party member” coming from their robotic mouths and not the word “citizen.”

  Both the Enforcement officers exited the room and Jon followed just behind with his backpack of newly acquired party member attire attached to his shoulder. They walked down that dimly lit corridor and back towards the steel doors he was dragged through not two hours ago.

  How quickly life could change in this city. Just this afternoon he was embarking on his much anticipated drive through the hillsides to enjoy the autumn leaves in all of their colors. Now he was walking through a set of steel doors as a newly “acquired” party member in some underground bunker which nobody outside of the party was quite sure if it existed or not.

  The snap, the click of the lock being released on the steel doors echoed through the dim corridor. It was just like every nightmare Jon had ever woken up from. Except this time it was real, and he would have to be the tormentor and the tormented.

  They were almost to the doorway when Jon noticed that the two chairs he and his law breaking, class-b drug consuming, compatriot had been sitting in were empty.

  “So what happened to my friend?” he asked the guards as they approached the reception area.

  “He is no longer a concern to the party,” one of the officers promptly replied.

  That same, seemingly more and more familiar chill came up Jon’s spine. This was a bad deal that he was left with no choice but to take. This time, he had a difficult time trying to swallow.

  They walked past the brunette that had given Jon such a cold greeting the first time around. He looked at her as they passed by. She finally gave him the smile he was looking for, but this time he did not smile back. He ignored her and looked forward. He would have rather had another bout with vomiting than to smile back at her. Not under these circumstances, and certainly knowing that she was one of those loyal to the party.

  Finally, here came the moment he was dreading the most. That last set of steel doors was lurking in front of him, taunti
ng him as he drew near. Then came the click, the snap and finally they opened to show the cold and dark vacant parking lot on the other side.

  The officers walked to the edge of the hallway, to where the doors opened, and then stopped on each side of the door, leaving just enough room for Jon to slip through the middle of them as he walked through the doors.

  Out to the parking lot he walked, just to the edge of the curb. He looked back at the officers who had stopped walking.

  “Good luck,” said one of the officers as the steel doors began to shut.

  Jon couldn’t be sure, but he could swear he heard a little robotic chuckle coming from one of the officer’s right as the doors began to close.

  As the doors closed, the echo from them sealing shut could be heard bouncing back and forth throughout the parking garage as though it was never going to end.

  It was cold. Jon did not have his jacket with him. He was under the impression that he would be driving his vehicle back to his complex before nightfall. He still wasn’t sure, one way or the other, if all the work it took to acquire his Atlas Grade 1 vehicle was worth the trouble he had just found himself in the middle of. It was an unfortunate situation, and he felt that he should be kicking himself more than he had. Maybe he should have thought his plans out a little more carefully to avoid Enforcement Personnel. But that sense of deep regret just wasn’t there. It was absent. It didn’t make sense to him. He just simply couldn’t feel it.

  There he stood in an empty garage, alone. He had been inside the facility for longer than he originally thought. It was well into the night. Perhaps it was already the early morning hours. He wasn’t sure. One thing he was certain of is that it was beyond the ten o’clock curfew orders. There wasn’t a sole in sight.

  He began his walk through the garage. Every single footstep could be heard bouncing back and forth between the concrete walls. Tip, tap, tip, tap. The sound was giving him an anxiety laced panic. He was used to be being alone. That is what being a citizen of Pinnacle City meant, but he wasn’t used to being this alone.

  Jon came to the ramp that was on the side of the building, where they had initially entered through. There was the same man in a suit, manning and guarding the gates, as there was when Jon had arrived. Jon approached him hesitantly as he knew being caught out after curfew meant going right back to where he had just come from.

  The guard stood in perfect position until Jon was within appropriate talking distance and he simply said, “Sir,” and then opened a man size gate and motioned Jon through.

  “Thank you,” Jon said in a sort of confused manner. He looked back at the guard after he had walked a few feet. The guard nodded his head and then turned back around to continue his duties.

  Not being entirely sure of what to expect, or if this was just a set-up, Jon kept his distance from the roadway. He hugged the side of the building as he began his walk home, something he was not accustomed to doing. He had worked long and hard to get his hands on a vehicle. This was a giant step backward.

  Jon was not particularly bothered by the curfew. It was something that had always been in place. This isn’t where he wanted to be at night anyway. All the streetlights were shut off. The entire public transit system was shut down. It was an eerie feeling to be out here on the concrete of the city at night. The only light was light coming from the living quarters of those who had earned the privilege to have power on after curfew – which were not many. The only vehicles being operated at this hour were Enforcement Personnel. Occasionally you could see an Atlas Grade 3 model. Those were reserved for high-ranking party members, and they had the clearance to be out past curfew.

  Jon was walking past the ritzy office building – if it was even an office building – where the Enforcement facility was located underneath. The entire lobby was dark. It was cold and eerie. He could barely make out the difference between objects and shadows it was so dark inside.

  The adrenaline from being thrown back out into the world began to wear off. The frigid and stale autumn air began to take hold. Jon folded his arms and tucked his hands under his shoulders. It was just cold enough for him to be able to see his breath each time he exhaled.

  It was dark on these streets. Very dark.

  The dark depth of the concrete labyrinth they called Pinnacle City only made the air feel that much colder.

  Jon came to the corner of the street. He was on 2nd and K Street. He had to go across the city, on foot, all the way to 9th and E Street, where his living quarters were situated. That was 13 city blocks, and not just any city block. These were Pinnacle City blocks. This was called the concrete labyrinth for a simple and obvious reason – it was in fact a labyrinth. It was not built in a typical grid system. The roads were square but none of them were through streets. K Street ended on 2nd Street, but it began again on 3rd Street. 2nd Street would end on C Street but continue on as soon as D Street crossed its path. It was like this all over the city – giant gaps in the grid. Throughout the year, the walls of the labyrinth would raise and lower. The streets of the city would be reconfigured. Where one street used to end, a wall would be raised to make it a through street, but the road that crossed it would be changed to end. It was almost as though nobody was ever meant to leave the city. Or at the very least it was meant so that nobody could flee the city. It would take a long time to understand the grid system and to find your way around, and just when you think you had it down, they would change it. It was a constant learning nightmare, a nightmare to which all residents were subject to. Even the mass transit system would be rerouted on a routine basis.

  This was not a task Jon was up to. It had been a long and unwelcomed day. He was out past curfew, not knowing what to expect. Now he had to walk across the city. He had to find his way through the labyrinth.

  As bleak as things seemed at the moment there was no sense in just standing here in the cold of the concrete labyrinth. He kept up his pace as he headed back to the comfort of his bed, something he was desperate for at this point. He stayed along the little cover offered by the backdrop of the towers.

  In the distance he could see vehicles operating through the city which he could only assume were Enforcement Personnel. They went slow and cautiously. Each time they passed a cross street their floodlights would light up the roadway. Their scanners could be heard from a block away. They were on patrol for anybody breaking curfew orders. It was considered a minor offense, but one that could cost you everything you had worked for – depending on the detaining officer’s mood.

  Jon knew people that were caught outside their living quarters after curfew. They lost their individual dwelling status and were forced to revert to the Group Housing Project. This is where the young adults and the older troublemakers lived. They often shared cot-like bunk beds with as many as six people in a room. They shared one large bathroom with an entire floor of residents. Men and women were separated into separate buildings – and on opposite sides of the city.

  The Capital did not allow male and female relationships outside of their employment locations. It was strictly prohibited and closely monitored. Procreation was only allowed through approval of the Capital itself. Even at that, it was something that was only allowed among the most powerful and the most elite. Genetics were under ultimate government control. All approved births took place in the Centertown Health and Human Services Center. All civilians were closely analyzed for the purpose of DNA identification and proper analysis. The proper matches were paired by party members and by party members only, for purposes of optimal birth qualities. The Capitol had a strict population control order. They were careful to only allow as many people into the workforce as those who were leaving the workforce.

  Jon was careful to remain in the shadows as he watched the passing Atlas Grade 2 vehicles in the distance. Wherever he could duck and stay low, he was sure to do so. He didn’t know if being a new party member authorized him to be out past curfew or not. Nobody told him – he didn’t want to find out.

 
He had made it two entire blocks with little to no chance of being caught by Enforcement, but he stayed on his guard. The last time he fell into the blissful ignorance of thinking that Enforcement is anywhere but here, he ended up becoming a party member.

  One more block closer to home, he was somewhere on 3rd and I Street. He didn’t seem to be familiar with this part of town. Most of his time was spent between his employment location on 15th and A, and his home on 9th and E. He noticed a peculiar little corner and the base of one of the towers. It looked as though it was a building all its own, like the tower was somehow built on top of it. It was small and almost unnoticeable. If it was broad daylight and the city was full of its usual stop-and-go, he probably would have overlooked it. There were two, seemingly old, white pillars on each side of a white door, and it looked like a very high quality door. It was framed with thick wood planks and had a glossy finish. It had a curious symbol right in the middle of the door. It looked like a capitol A, but instead of the line crossing through the center of the A, it was the letter U. Jon had no idea what it could mean, but it certainly did cause him to wonder. He tried to look through the windows but they were blacked out in-order to keep wondering eyes from looking in.

  He took a step back. It had grabbed his attention for sure. It seemed out of place and out of the ordinary. In a city where everything is planned and identical no matter where you go, this building seemed to have a personality to it.

  Jon glanced to the right of the door, and where a doorknob would normally be, he noticed an engraving. He walked closer to see what it said.

  “Party members only.”

  Out of curiosity and a simple hunch, he raised his forearm to where the doorknob normally would be. He stood there with his arm extended, and waited.

  He waited.

  Nothing happened.

  “Huh,” he blurted.