Fighting for the Future, page 11
“We can only keep doing our part, I guess.” He gave her a sardonic salute. “For the future.”
“Bah,” she said with a laugh, “the only future I’m interested in right now is a shower.”
After all, the privilege of being able to leave the city was consecrated in sweat, dirt, and a whole host of environmental pollutants from the previous era. The mess coalesced in places where one piece of gear or protective clothing met another. His wrists and neck and always his feet from the tips of his toes to his shins no matter his work boots and socks, the elastic hem of his pants. Just as they worked to reclaim the land, the land worked to reclaim them, marking them bodily. His last pair of clean underwear felt gritty against his skin, chafing his balls, as the hauler navigated the densely-packed streets of the Terrestrial District.
Finally, they reached Agro-Tek’s corporate campus. In a swirl of exhaustion, they got the hauler unloaded. Dr. Martín appeared unaffected by their grueling trip as she saw them off with strict orders to stay home for at least three days to recover properly. She’d get no argument from Drayson. By the time he’d gone through decontamination and swung by his office to collect his things, the workday’s rush was well past. In the gloom of the Terrestrial District, the street still teemed with shift workers and gangs of teenagers. He pushed into the crush, warding his implant from proximal queries and phishing attempts from skimming devices, dampening the noise from sales pitches and shouts, and dialing back his olfactory sensors to stem the inevitable smells from too many bodies in such a compact space.
The crowds seethed and roiled the closer he got to the train station. Karlene was right about one thing. People were unhappy, and tonight had all the makings of another protest. Working for Agro-Tek, Drayson had more of a cushion than most people down here even if he couldn’t yet swing a cushy pad in the Canopy. But he knew how easily the tables could turn, trapping people in Terrestrial District tenements with no chance to move to the upper levels, literally and figuratively. Without him supplementing his dad’s disability, his parents would be stuck down here in one of these apartment buildings, the units not much better than sleep capsules. The inequity paired with a botched rollout for the latest Emergence targets had transformed the Terrestrial District seemingly overnight into a powder keg on top of which the rest of the city was perched.
Not for the first time, Drayson wished his work toward Emergence automatically granted him a free pass through the scrum so he could ascend to the Understory as quickly as possible. Away from the dirt and grime, away from anger that had no answer. At least no easy ones. But that made him feel like an asshole in the same breath, for thinking himself above such concerns. He wasn’t, but he had chosen to funnel all his frustration into his work. Work that would transform New Worth for the better. Work for the future. That probably wouldn’t count in too many people’s minds down here, though. Not with all the conspiracy theories that scientists like him were actually the ones holding them back from their land on the other side of the glass.
By the time he reached the station, the trains were running a couple minutes behind schedule. Wonderful. He settled in to wait, nabbing a prime spot against one of the support pillars to ease the growing ache in his lower back.
Often on nights like this, with another planting trip behind him, he would stand on the platform, the press of humanity swirling around him. All of them were inexorably tied to the technological feats that allowed New Worth to exist, and by some estimations, thrive. But he held off from fully firing up his implant and joining in the intoxicating snarl of digital life. He wanted to preserve the clarity of self that came from being outside, from glimpsing what they could have one day and what the previous generations had been too careless to safeguard until it was too late. A small act of resistance, invisible and even meaningless to most, but it had become a thing, and tonight was no different as the platform hummed with energy.
He wasn’t just another zombie like Karlene said. He could acknowledge the benefits of connectivity without being beholden to them, right?
Breakdancers were popping and locking for tips in front of the shuttered ticket counter. A vendor was hawking lab-grown beef barbecued to melt-in-your-mouth perfection. One guy happened to cross in front of Drayson with deep purple lowlights threaded through black hair. Direct eye contact was a rarity in the upper levels where virtually everyone had an implant, but down here, Disconnects like Karlene were more common. This dude gave Drayson an assessing once-over, hampered by no tech to speak of, then dismissed him almost as quickly.
See? Zombie, he could imagine Karlene saying with a smirk had she been there. Drayson caught a glimpse of a tree tattoo on the man’s upper arm. That kept Drayson watching as he darted through the crowd and convened with a cluster of people who also didn’t have the glazed-eye look that heralded preoccupation with their implants. Disconnects, all of them, having a real conversation, not one mediated by implants. Moments later, Purple Hair and his friends affixed voice box amplifiers to their throats and started chanting. Someone on the other side of the platform answered, and soon dozens of voices peppered throughout the station joined in.
“No more lies. No more delays. It’s time to disconnect from the dome!"
Some people in the crowd shied away from the demonstrators, keeping their gaze averted. The same slightly pained shuffle people did to avoid someone tripping their balls off in a train carriage. Others pointed and yelled affirmations. More than a few bystanders linked arms and joined in with raucous shouts. Thank god the train was only ninety seconds out.
Chants rattled through the station. So intensely, it took Drayson a moment to notice the floor vibrating with heavy footfalls. A dozen or so cops in riot gear clustered right next to the pillar he was leaning against. There was always a patrol out this time of night, but this was different. Instead of the traditional uniform, they wore protective vests and helmets shielded with carbon fiber panels that absorbed instead of reflected all the artificial lights strobing across the platform. Clearly they weren't taking any chances with all the unrest. But to Drayson’s tired eyes, the Disconnects just wanted to be heard like anyone else. Sometimes getting loud was the only way to get the muckety-mucks in the Canopy to pay attention, even if he wasn’t thrilled at getting caught up in a demonstration.
The riot cops’ body language remained stiff with leashed tension as the platform thundered with chants. One of them launched a drone overhead. Drayson used his ocular boost to get a better look as it surveilled the platform. Cameras offset the quad rotors keeping it aloft. Heavy-duty antennas studded its back.
His augmented vision grayed out just as klaxons sounded. The train was being drawn to an emergency halt somewhere up track. Security gates rolled down automatically to keep any more people from crowding onto the platform. Chants abruptly transformed into shouts and screams.
Well, shit.
Before he could search for another way out of there, the network died right before his eyes. Drayson blinked, but some kind of localized interference kept his implant from responding. No feeds, no feedback, no function at all. What the fuck was going on?
In all the confusion, the riot cops had spread throughout the crowd because that was just what this situation needed. Drayson’s gaze snagged on the closest one as they slammed their baton down on a protester’s head, who’s only crime seemed to be holding up their hands in supplication. Drayson couldn't halt the eyecast command to replay the moment from his cache even though it didn’t work—the habit was too well-ingrained after seeing something so outrageous.
To Drayson’s left, another cop was taking swings at a protester while members of the crowd tried to separate them. A woman screamed bloody murder, and Drayson turned in time to see her being dragged back by her hair by one of the cops while another readied handcuffs.
Realization of the cops’ aggressive tactics spread through the crowd like a virus. People started testing the exits at first tentatively, then with increased urgency as panic took over. Someone could get killed, slammed against the metal mesh keeping them corralled. Staying put was no longer an option. He had to get out of there.
Drayson angled for the tracks even though that would put him closer to the rampaging cops. He barreled through the crowd, searching for the Disconnects he’d noticed earlier. They probably bolted as soon as the cops started swinging. Finally, he spied a familiar shock of purple hair and plotted an intercept course through the throng toward the railing separating the platform from the tracks. One of the cops broke out a taser, and the discharge hit a person somewhere behind Drayson. Way too close.
Purple Hair hopped the rail and disappeared from view. Disconnects knew how to go to ground down here. Drayson couldn’t afford to lose them.
The crowd surged again, trapping him against the metal guardrail. His entire chest cavity ached as people slammed against him. Just beyond, the tracks beckoned mockingly. His lungs spasmed for too many seconds before the pressure slowly eased up. Finally he had enough space to lift his leg and scrambled over the rail. He hit the tracks and immediately fell to his knees.
“Halt!” an automated voice blared over the PA system. “The New Worth Police Force urges you to remain calm for processing. This is an active crime scene.”
That they created. Fuck this. Drayson pelted down the tracks, searching for Purple Hair. There. He’d nearly missed the maintenance corridor the group of Disconnects huddled in. It looked they were trying to breach some kind of access panel recessed in the wall. The only woman in the group had an impressive set of tools laid out on a length of canvas as she crouched in front of the locking mechanism.
A large enforcer type threw a look over his shoulder and spotted Drayson. He turned to Purple Hair. “We’ve got company, Nasco.”
“Why did you follow us?” Nasco demanded as Drayson got closer.
“You seemed to know where you’re going."
The first man was about Drayson's height and unafraid to get in his face. “Find your own way, sheep.”
“Come on. It’s not like I can just waltz up to the next station.” The local precinct would no doubt be waiting to round up anyone who made it that far. Drayson had seen the deference and dignity afforded folks in the upper levels. Down here, everyone was a suspect first and treated accordingly. It rankled even if such treatment had never been turned in his direction. Until tonight.
The enforcer thumped an index finger against Drayson’s temple. “We’re not worried about you. We’re worried about the tech in your head.”
Drayson held back a grimace. “My implant was knocked offline when all…that started.”
Nasco exchanged a look with his friends. “Thought it was just our tools that shorted out, but them too?”
Them meaning Drayson or everyone on that platform connected to the network? The cop who released the drone…. Maybe that was not to record the confrontation, but to ensure no one else could.
“Got it!” the girl shouted in triumph behind them.
Nasco had seen Drayson on the platform, knew he wasn’t involved in whatever the hell had just gone down. Wasn't that enough? Nasco seemed to realize the same thing and patted his companion’s shoulder. “He’s fine, Garza. And even if he’s not, we don’t have time to argue.”
If anything, the klaxons had gotten louder. Drayson imagined the rail security force would be deployed as backup any moment. It was now or never.
The Disconnects hustled into the access tunnel, and Drayson scurried after them. The girl locked the door behind them and secured her gear in her satchel. When she saw Drayson watching, she barred her teeth. “Baaaaa.”
Garza shouldered past him. “Come on, sheep.”
They filed down the tight corridor before it opened up into a larger bay dark with rust and grease. It must have been used as some kind of staging area during the maglev's construction and now utilized for occasional maintenance. The aged infrastructure around them probably dated back to the city's construction. The latest technology at the time, but now, it looked like it was rotting from the inside out.
The group slowed down when they reached the first intersection.
“You have the schematics for this place?” Drayson asked as Nasco directed them down the left hall.
“Just because we don't have a chip in our head doesn't mean we don’t know what we’re doing."
“I didn’t mean..." But it had been implied, hadn’t it? They'd clearly planned for this contingency, all of them working together as a unit. It ran counter to the narrative that Disconnects were Luddites and malcontents. Provocateurs not clever strategists. But it had been the cops who instigated the conflict at the train station. Maybe the Disconnects had better cause for complaint then he’d realized. They’d certainly been better prepared for trouble.
A few more twists and turns, down one long catwalk that overlooked racks of humming transformers, Nasco finally stopped at what looked to be a dead-end. Their lockpicker got to work, and within minutes she had returned them to street level through a door that blended into a small alley between storefronts.
“Back to pasture, sheep." Garza pointed Drayson toward a large intersection at the end of the block that would hopefully lead to the Understory lifts.
“Where are we?”
“Markley’s Terrace."
Drayson blinked, trying to pull the neighborhood up on his map, but of course his implant was still offline.
Nasco gave him a concerned look. “Still not working?"
Drayson shook his head. Nasco pulled out a strange device from one of his pockets. He waved the handheld sensor along the back of Drayson's neck where his implant lived just below the skin. Nasco whistled. “We’ve seen this before. They knocked your implant out of commission remotely. Your implant’s still operational, but your access to it’s been severed.”
Before? Something told Drayson these weren’t garden-variety Disconnects he’d run into. “But this kind of thing shouldn’t be possible.” At least not without securing the necessary legal permissions to do so. The rationale would have to be exceedingly high to override someone’s digital autonomy like that. A whole train platform of someones? Unbelievable.
“Well, it is, Drayson Vonn, of Agro-Tek."
How did Nasco know that? Then Drayson dashed that thought. Nasco probably just pulled his whole biographical record off his implant.
“You work for Agro-Tek?” the girl asked. “They’re the ones rehabilitating the land, yeah?”
The sudden hunger reflected off all the Disconnects’ faces gave Drayson vertigo. He used to view Emergence with the same wide-eyed hope, but there was something else to the Disconnects’ intensity. His stomach dropped. If they believed scientists like him were the problem, he would’ve been better off taking his chances in the riot.
“You’ve been outside?" Garza asked, giving Drayson a reassessing look that crawled up his spine.
“Yes,” Drayson said, still processing the shift in the conversation. “I'd be happy to answer any questions you have, but—”
Garza folded his arms over his chest. “Oh, now you want to leave?”
Unwillingly, Drayson took a step back. “That's not what I meant. It was just a lot back there and—"
Nasco snapped the diagnostic tool shut. “You’re coming with us." The definitive statement sparked a change in the group.
Garza turned to him in surprise. “We can’t bring him back there. He could tell the authorities."
Drayson held up his hands and tried to look harmless. It wasn’t difficult. “Not without my implant working.”
“You still have eyes in your head, sheep, don’t you?" Garza said with a sneer.
Drayson’s shoulders pulled back in indignation. “You think I’d turn you in?"
Garza shook his head. “Doesn't matter since you’re not gonna get a chance.” And with that, he coldcocked him.
When Drayson woke, he found himself on a ratty couch pushed up against a wall of a small room. Sunlight simulators had been installed in the ceiling, but the cramped space still had a sickly vibe. His temples throbbed, and a lump on his forehead was hot to the touch. Garza. That fucker.
Nasco hovered into view.
“Where am I?”
“Underground.” Somewhere under the dome, but beyond the city’s reach. “The rest doesn't matter."
“Like hell it doesn’t.” All this cloak-and-dagger shit went far beyond protester safety briefings. It felt…organized. “What is this, some kind of rebellion?”
“And if it is?” Nasco replied calmly.
Drayson blinked. He knew people were frustrated, Karlene had said as much, but he hadn’t realized things had gotten this bad.
“We’re going to ask you a few questions,” Nasco continued. “Then you’ll be free to go."
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Nasco’s gaze caught on what must be a spectacular bruise right about now. “No tricks. That’s not our way, I promise.”
For the next two hours, Nasco asked him about the outside, his company’s planting trips, the green beyond the dome, and what it all meant in lay terms, not scientific jargon or political slogans. Real talk followed by more mundane matters like the safety precautions they took and the protocols they followed outside. Others, all Disconnects, filtered in and out of the room, asking their own questions or whispering something in Nasco’s ear that shaped the next line of inquiry. Garza took up position at the door at some point, a constipated look on his face as he stood watch.
As if Drayson was in any condition to start something after the day he’d had.
“We work hard, pushing ourselves every time we’re out there so we won’t make anyone wait longer than necessary to have fresh air on their faces,” Drayson said hoarsely. “I know you want to leave, and I don't blame you, but the only reason we’ve been able to do all this is because of the supplies and infrastructure New Worth provides. Without that…” He shook his head.
“You let us worry about that,” Garza growled.
