Children of Gravity

by E. R. Jess

  Revan chuckled, “That's good. And everyone gets a cake on their birthday. Wake up, they just want more warm bodies for the Sol Project. You think UPC wants its City-State bursting at the seams with rusters? No, these people are going to be mining ice on Europa.”

  Jakob dropped his handheld on the table and spoke exhaustedly, “Is it not beyond the scope of UPC to admit a mistake? We want our brethren back among us.”

  Sen corrected Jakob, “Not a repair for a mistake, mind you, but a reassignment of priorities. And yes, what it boils down to is more warm bodies, more workers.”

  “UPC wants to push this empire skyward, that's fine. But there are backs to break out there in the ruins. We have to get down to the fundamentals, you're right. We have to tear these people down before we put them back together.” Revan sipped from a glass of water and turned to gaze out the window. He turned his neck upward to look at the space station floating in low orbit around the city.

  Jakob motioned for his android to leave. It steadily walked out of the room. He said, “Sen, could you join us tomorrow, same time. We'll take a look at your proposal then.”

  Sen left, giving a nod.

  Jakob said when Sen's footsteps disappeared, “Yes, sir, breaking backs has been a new pastime for you. Where did you develop this hobby, going out into the Free City and doing the grunt work yourself, what fascinates you about those ruins?”

  Revan smiled, “Oh no, it's nothing new. You should get out there with me. The frontier is something to experience. You get that acrid smoke in your face and you feel the heat and the pressure in the air. There's a palpable pressure, like you're a mile underwater when you're out there in that maze.”

  Jakob sighed, “Between your excursions and UCM, there may not be anyone left to re-educate. You should be careful, sir. Sedition can creep up on you like a lover. It is seductive and before you know it, well... it's just that you haven't been as careful as you should be. There is much at stake. Elann and others have been looking at your chair carefully, as if sizing up how well their asses would fit in it.”

  “I've never forgotten our plans. And in this case, UPC's and my plans coincide. I'm trying to do the City-State's work. The fucking Controllers, bless their good works, gave me shit to work with and I turned it into a well-oiled killing machine. You want us to throw teddy bears now?” Revan kicked the window in his high-rise office, “Jake, it's not easy watching these people shuffle around the City-State with dumb expressions and no fight left in them. UCM is a beautiful machine, and I'd love to take it off the leash, you know, set it loose everywhere, shake up these drones.” Revan shook his head at Jakob, “Don't worry, you can tell Elann and the other vultures that I'm on board, of course.” Revan inhaled and stated, “For all its good works, may the City-State ever rise.”

  “For all its good works,” Jakob replied hesitantly.

  Revan squinted into the dark and rubbed his temple, “Sometimes, Jakob, I wonder if it'd be better just to wipe everyone out and start over from the genome.”

  0

  The sky was white with fierce lightning, quiet, but violent with electricity. Kagan gripped a tiny silver ring like it was the only thing holding him atop the bridge he stood on. His clothes were soaked with dark water and sweat, his hair wet and plastered to his face. With his knees bent and locked, he appeared either ready to run like hell or collapse right there.

  Hard, deafening shots slammed into the silence. Below Kagan was rapid wastewater, beginning on the city streets as thousands of tiny streams, and drifting there finally to create a wild river of fetid liquid. He was in it before the bullets left their barrels.

  He was taken along in the dizzy waste at a breathtaking pace. The current threw him up against a concrete cliff that spanned twenty or so meters up, and that was about the width of his waterway. His hands gripped rough objects that protruded from the walls, but the river was too strong, Kagan couldn’t hold on.

  He was pulled deeper, too deep. The water forced its way into his lungs, only a drop at a time, but soon they were filled.

  He woke up soaked in his sweat, drowning only in that and his old wool blanket. Someone was standing in the doorway to his small room, which was an old office in a building along their route. Greenish light spilled over the woman; she patiently looked at him as Kagan rose from his nightmare.

  “You need something to help you sleep better? I can hear you a few rooms away. I can get you some stuff to let you sleep, I’m sure.” The figure focused in Kagan's eyes, it was Sam, their medic.

  Kagan’s body felt like it was still being pulled along in the dark fluid. His head was foggy and chaotic and it felt like going mad. The concepts of time twisted and turned on him. Kagan could barely think in a straight line, much less form coherent words. His left hand instinctively felt for a ring that wasn’t there. “No, Sam, thanks. I need some water.”

  “That,” Sam declared proudly, “we have. Do you want gray or brown?”

  “Gray.” Kagan answered quickly.

  Sam was reaching middle age as a very pretty, serious, if not absent-minded woman. Sam used to work for the wasteland government as a heath official. By traveling with Kagan and Alessa, she was able to help people more directly. She handed him a mason jar of off-color water. Sam’s accent was thick as she spoke quietly and with concern, “I hope you get some rest.” She bowed her head a little as she started to leave.

  “Would you like to go for a walk? I think I’ve had enough sleep.” Kagan pushed his feet to the floor and ran a palm over his two-day-old stubble. At that point he contemplated reaching out and deleting his words from the air, but they had already reached the ears they were intended for.

  Sam began to say something, but he could tell that she changed whatever that was. She was halfway out of the door and leaving as she said: “No, I have to sleep, myself. Goodnight.”

  Kagan looked at the half-open doorway with one eye, his other he was rubbing. “Goodnight.” he voiced several minutes later.

  He fell back into sleep. And he returned to his river. The river that started a flood that washed everything away, and ever since he has been there, scrambling to grab what remained of himself washed up along the banks.

  0

  A recording echoed around the cement columns of their current home. It was a woman's voice, strained and stressed. A woman's voice pulled through a mess of digital background noise.

  “They took us through the remnants of Cross Street and left us at the foot of a tall building. Men poured out of trucks. We were herded inside, and the men forced us, ten at a time, into small rooms where they made us remove our clothes and shoes. A woman was in charge, a UPC official. Sub-Minister Aloca. She was accompanied by a menacing man. This man, he did things to people's minds. The two of them oversaw the conforming of my friends and neighbors. I escaped, but I know my time will come soon.”

  “Turn that shit off.” Eight shouted from a catwalk to the few people on the old factory floor. The dark-skinned man descended a spiral staircase quickly and stomped over to the digital recorder sitting atop a table. They were all friends around that recorder, all but a stranger seated at the head of the table opposite Dernen.

  Alessa and Sam sat slightly apart from them. Alessa, with her wool coat draped about her like a cloak, slumped in a chair in a fashion unlike her. She rested her left hand on her neck, hiding the bar code.

  Sam paid attention to her surroundings as if they were more important. The street doctor cringed as the last sentences to come from the player were cut short: “A man in a toxin suit took me, alone, into a clean medical chamber. He thrust me onto the floor with the threat of tasing me. He pushed me onto my stomach and shocked me anyway. The man then stuck a needle...”

  “Eight,” Dernen said, “I believe that you are over reacting.”

  “If Kagan came in here and heard that playing, and in front of someone he didn’t know,” The man he referred to didn’t even blink. “It's not smart, folks.”

  The new man s
hifted his gaze from Alessa to Dernen as the former spoke weakly. “Yes, your concern is known, but he is an adult. Kagan is an adult.”

  “We are reviewing all of our information on the City-State's government buildings. We need to find medical supplies,” Sam announced. Eight could felt a wave of apprehension coming from her, from all of them except the newcomer.

  Alessa sighed ruefully. “We've been asked to join a raid.”

  The Auspex wiped his face as if from sweat. “Okay, let me work that over in my head... no.”

  A familiar voice came from the table. The newcomer. “Kagan?” The man paused to inhale deeply, “The lady in this recording was the mother of his child.” He appeared to be a man lost in the wastelands for a long while, with long, rough hair and unclean clothes and improvised armor. He was in his early forties, but carried years more on his shoulders. His shadow hidden eyes spoke of violence in his past.

  “Yes.” Alessa said, “And then the city fell apart in the purge and you know the rest.” Dernen gave her a sharp look when she added, “He has never fully recovered.”

  The newcomer chimed in impatiently, “Well, I been through some bad shit, too. I heard you people can help. And I can definitely help you.”

  Eight squinted and walked quickly over to the newcomer. He grinned from ear to ear as the man raised his head. It was Vorn, his old partner, the one he used to travel with before the purge. “Vorn, for Christ's sake, you're here, you're alive!”

  Vorn stood and couldn't help but smile. “It seems so. Small town, huh?”

  Eight shook his hand vigorously and pulled him into a hug.

  “So, Eight, what are you doing with these pansies?” He whispered hoarsely.

  Eight laughed, “They're tougher than they look.” Eight got a bit more serious, “You know we don't do the raid thing.”

  Vorn nodded, “I didn't know what you guys were all about, I'm just spreading the word.”

  Alessa joined and spoke, “He told us he's been conformed, we wanted to share what we knew about it. Eight, he beat it. Your friend beat the conformity programming.”

  Eight asked, “How? Some kind of therapy?”

  Vorn smiled brightly, a relieved smile. He could barely contain the news, “They have a cure. UPC developed equipment that reverses the brainwashing. It might even work on citizens. Eight, this could free the world entire.”

  Eight didn't have the words. He looked at Alessa and Dernen.

  Sam spoke up, “It stands to reason, Eight. And we would need your help to delve memories during people's treatments. It won't be easy, but if we got our hands on this technology...”

  “But, folks,” Eight began, “We'd have to do some stuff we don't want to do. What does Kagan think of all this?”

  “Eight,” Alessa answered, “Kagan and I are thinking about it seriously. We could upend the social problems of our civilization. By freeing the conformed, and perhaps the thought-controlled citizens like I was, we could accomplish for everyone that which we seek for ourselves.”

  Vorn put his hand on Eight's shoulder, “There are several Free City groups that want in, they just want you to think about it. I mean, I'm on board. UPC grabbed me during the purge and rewrote my entire mind. But they didn't realize that I was still in there, hiding in the corners. All those conformed workers and cybernetic soldiers, they could be brought back to life.”

  Eight shook his head, “We can't hurt anyone to save them. That's the whole reason we're out here and not stabbing people for food.”

  “Your group is invited to a meeting. I gave Dernen the details,” Vorn threw his bag over his back, “Eight, my man, did you ever get that piece of shit running after I was gone?”

  Eight laughed inwardly, “Yeah, then it became a smoldering crater. I'm better off.”

  “Too bad,” Vorn said as he left, “I had a soft spot for those old wheeled vehicles.”

  Eight shook his head in disbelief as he watched his old friend leave. To the others he said, “If we could get a vehicle, that man could get us where we're going.”

  Alessa took his shoulder, “If he's right, the world will soon change. Who knows if we'll need to go anywhere. We might be able to stop running.”

  At the Seams

  It was late when the power flickered on and off a few times. The solar batteries in Jenna's tenement weren't in the best condition. The young woman watched the City-State through a pair of old binoculars mounted on a tripod. She could see streams of headlights snaking around a silver city. Buildings tugging at the clouds. Thousands of sparkling windows staring back. Jets flying in and around the cityscape leaving amber ribbons across the face of the pale dark. It was the buzzing heart of UPC.

  She was exhausted. Jenna took a handful of vitamin tablets and settled into her old lounge chair and took the city with her into dreams.

  A knock on her door shook her loose from slumber. Sunrise was streaming in. She went to the door before blood got to her legs. She opened it and saw no one. She looked up and down the hall. No one.

  Another knock, but coming from behind her. Knock, knock, Makz rapped on an end table. He had his feet up, lounging on her old, ratty couch. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  She was pretty surprised that he had found her, but surprise was rapidly replaced by fear. Jenna nodded in defeat and closed the door. She put her hands out in surrender and began to maneuver to her desk. She couldn't believe that she didn't detect him in the room. The location of his knocking sound should have been a dead giveaway, especially for her.

  Makz halted her, “Okay, no. Stop on your heels right now or I'll shoot you out that window and get a good night's sleep on your ratty couch.” His hands were resting across his chest. No gun visible, but Jenna knew better.

  She stood still and faced him, “So, you in?” she asked, nervously joking.

  Makz laughed though his nose before he spoke, “You think a little girl with a computer hobby can put me against a wall for very long? You think you can fuck with the insides of my handsome head and tell your school friends?”

  Jenna cleared her throat, “I got you out of that hotel. I can scratch your name off the Redlist with a few gestures.” She was counting, in her mind, the number of steps it would take to get to her handheld or her mainframe on her desk to subdue him. Too many.

  “Tell me, my dear, why do you think I would need any of that? I've lived this long and plan to outlast you. By many years,” Makz knocked on the end table again and looked around, “This place is a mess. You should get new junk.”

  The wire stayed silent. She listened intently to the room. She listened to the knock, knock sound. The hollow, rotted wood beneath. She heard the metal rings in his sleeve cuffs. The jingle of thin metal tapping wood. She heard the wrinkles of fabric rub together. The fabric beneath that rubbing against arm hair and skin. She heard the reverberation of the knock, knock as it slapped against the air. It vibrated the windows and knick-knacks on the shelf ever so slightly. She heard the echo of the knocks rattle the plastic wrappers she left on the coffee table. Jenna could hear a cascade of sounds down Makz's body as he knocked. A shimmer of sound waves sent down his limbs to slightly clacking shoulder plating beneath his coat. An armored fabric weave coat with electronics wired in. She could hear the tell-tale buzz and hum of the power source of his jacket. She heard the action of the knocking shudder and rattle around in his lungs, bounce off his ribcage, shake the metal weight by his side. His gun. Makz's gun was beneath his left armpit. It was lodged a bit uncomfortably behind him. Makz would have to move his whole body to get the gun up and pointed at her. Still not enough time.

  Makz shifted on the couch, digging in and getting more comfortable, “It's not a bad place though. Great view. Beautiful city.”

  Jenna sighed and said quietly, “Look, I'm sorry I did what I did. A girl on her own... it's just not safe.”

  Makz's smile dropped, “You really don't know who you're fucking with. Jenna, you might be a bad-ass on the Outernet, but I can kill you
a hundred ways before you can get to a computer, much less log on and...” Makz pointed to his neck implant and made a 'Zap' sound.

  She nodded in agreement, “That's probably true. And it might be fun to try, you know, to get the blood flowing. But Makz, I have something better. There's bound to be some greater challenges out west, no? That's what you love, right? Challenges?”

  Makz put his hand on his chin as if to contemplate, “No,” He stated, “No one likes challenges, Jenna. People just say that so the challenges seem like a choice.”

  “Okay, you're right, it's not much of a challenge really, it's just a quick walk out in the ruins looking for a group that's holding my sister. She's been brainwashed by someone who can read memories. It's some kind of non-violent cult.”

  Makz quieted and grinned, “Your sister is with a cult of pacifists?” Kagan, Makz thought and pulled out the hand-written copy of the Redlist from his front pocket. “You have any idea where they are?”

  Jenna let out the breath she'd been holding, “Yes, sort of, I can track her bar code if she passes by a vector camera and I'm nearby.”

  Makz sat up slowly, as not to startle his host. He spoke more seriously, “She's a citizen?” It was definitely the right group.

  “Was,” Jenna corrected, “Was a citizen. She escaped.”

  Makz looked out the window to the wall of city to the northeast and spoke the window, “Was. That's a new one. I'll get you there. I'll make sure no savage tries to scalp you.” Makz was pleased with himself. He had the chance to finish the Redlist, perhaps before UCM got to Kagan, and he could bag an AWOL citizen and drag her back to UPC for rehab or re-education, after punishing those responsible. They'd put him behind the walls where he belonged.

  Jenna remained still.

  Makz walked over to her and extended his hand to shake, “When do you want to leave? I assume we don't have time for a yard sale?”