by GM Gambrell
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They awoke as workers began picking the lettuce, and made their way to one of the food stands for a breakfast of eggs and bread, chased with water. Duncan was exhausted from the night’s festivities, but it was a good kind of tired. After breakfast, they decided they should finally report to work at Jim’s shop.
“Do you know where it is?” Duncan asked and Jessica shrugged.
“It really didn’t even occur to me. I was so concerned about you, and then we got so turned around yesterday…”
“I’m sure someone knows.”
And he was right. Everyone knew where Jim’s Inventor’s Guild was located and they were there within minutes. It was a one-story building much like what he imagined the old warehouses on the outskirts of Old Dallas had looked like before they were destroyed. It was massive, and the ancient, faded sign read Shreveport High School Gymnasium.
“What’s a gymnasium?” Jessica asked.
“I have no idea,” Duncan replied.
They proceeded through the freshly painted great double doors and Duncan gasped. The interior of the building was filled, front to back, floor to rafter, with stuff, and stuff was the only word he could think of to describe it. There were crates upon crates in not-so-neat stacks. There were dozens of different vehicles, including what Duncan was sure was Jim’s original home-built, vegetable-powered All Terrain Vehicle. The helicopter was there in pieces, along with Jim’s Jeep and the truck the women from Hackberry had arrived in. He was relieved to see the helicopter’s body was just as rusted and pitted as he remembered in the garden under his father’s house. It just served to confirm what he’d suspected. Someone in New Dallas had framed him and Jim. It was just one more mystery among the hundreds that he would one day solve.
In the center of the room was a giant airplane, one Duncan didn’t recognize from any of the Magician’s Histories. It was older than old, older looking than any of the ancient vehicles he’d seen. The wingspan was massive, and on either side were two propeller-driven engines. The area where the pilots sat was encased in a glass bubble, and just below that was another plastic bubble with angry looking machine guns jutting out. The plane was painted in dark green and there was an American flag on its tail. There was the design of a woman riding some sort of bomb near the front of the plane, and written in bright, gaudy looking colors was the name Betty.
“She was a bomber. B-26 was her official designation. As far as I know, that’s the oldest working vehicle of any sort on this planet,” Jim told them, coming out from behind some crates. Gone were his dusty overcoat and pistols, replaced by a white lab coat and glasses on his face. His hair was disheveled, but he grinned widely, seeing them. “It was used almost a hundred years before the Last War, in a battle among human nations. It’s a shame, really, for something so elegant to be used for destruction.”
“It is beautiful in its way, isn’t it?” Jessica commented, and Duncan agreed. The airplane was sleek looking, fierce, but also gracious.
“It is. After the Last War, the Magicians did their best to destroy whatever military equipment was left, but they weren’t efficient at it. These old war birds, collectors’ items from an earlier war, have been hidden around the country ever since. There are hundreds of them, and quite a few still fly.”
“That’s amazing,” Duncan agreed. “And you’ve flow it?”
“To China and back,” Jim told him, patting the side of the Betty. “She’s an amazing airplane.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t show up yesterday, Jim,” Duncan said, prepared to take his punishment, if there was going to be any, for failing to show up to work. “We got a little distracted by the city. There was a party last night.”
Jim laughed. “Oh, you should have seen me my first time out of New Boston when I discovered a colony. I don’t think I came up for air for a week. As for parties…there’s a party every night. It’s our way of celebrating life.”
“Well,” Duncan began, “here we are, reporting for service.”
Jim clapped his hands and laughed. “This is outstanding. I can’t tell you how long I’ve looked forward to the day I could introduce you to this place. And, Jessica, your presence is just icing on the cake.”
“Cake?”
“And ancient food form,” Jim told them. “I’m not really sure what it was made of.”
“Well…what will our jobs be?” Duncan didn’t really know what he’d do in the massive warehouse among the thousand-year-old television sets and mysterious computers. He’d read of the devices, of course, but always from the Magicians’ point of view, in their histories, and he didn’t really have a good idea of how they worked. They way the Magicians described them, they seemed more Magic than anything else.
“To be honest, Duncan, I haven’t the faintest idea of what you should do. You have a knack for mechanical devices. That’s obvious. Maybe you can help get some of these vehicles in shape for when the day comes that we have to evacuate.”
Duncan didn’t know a thing about the vehicles, but he was absolutely willing to learn.
“Well,” Jessica said, “this place is a mess. It could use a good cleaning, maybe some organizing. How can you ever find something useful in all of this…well, junk?”
“Right you are,” Jim said, beaming. “Then that settles it. Duncan, you’ll try to make the vehicles run, and, Jessica, you’ll be in charge of organizing. Anything that can be reused in the Base, catalogue it. Anything that’s worth saving, save it. I know you won’t have a clue about some of the items, but NAME might be able to help you out.”
“Name?”
“Yes, NAME. He used to have control of all the other military computers before the Last War. He’s half crazy, but he’s an invaluable asset. Just be warned—he’s very old and, sometimes, not quite all there.”
“Wait…” Duncan said, his heart racing, “…you’re saying someone is still alive from before the Last War? That’s impossible.”
“I didn’t say someone, I said something. NAME is out right now, helping at the base, but he’ll be back. Please, make yourself at home here. My personal garden is in the rear, and you’re welcomed to anything from it. Please think of this as your home, because it is. At least until we have to evacuate.”
Jim turned and started to leave them.
“Where are you going?”
“The Council has me wrapped up in meetings, discussing what we should to in response to the Centaur’s warning. They’re confused and thought we had much, much more time. But don’t worry about that. Enjoy yourselves; enjoy the past that’s accumulated here. I’ll be back.”