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amnexicon · 7 years ago

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Station 3: Lifeline

With the good chance that we crash,

let’s say our grace.

In your final breath

believe, you’re not alone.

The voice echoed throughout Station 3, a broadcast put out by the Government-Owned and Operated Radio for the People meant to calm the frayed nerves of the restless passengers. The final notes closed the song as Kasimir Rigel was tightening the final bolt under the sink and stood up to test his handiwork. As a plumber, his job was one of the most important aboard the station. He assured that water ran cleanly throughout all of the bunks and reached all of the citizens without fail in time for every scheduled depositing. He turned the tap one final time, eyed the flow, and turned it off with a slight but satisfied grin.

Back in his own bunk, he listened to the final newscast of the night. Two red signals flashed on the wall signaling the beginning of the voice that spoke to everyone through speakers that lined every wall. A monotone voice announced the date, time, temperature of the simulated environment, and then proceeded to talk about the coming events that residents could participate in during the coming days. However, it was the final announcement that Kasimir had been waiting for. A squad was being dropped onto the planet below them in the morning. After years of unmanned surveillance, this was to be the first time that anyone left Station 3 since departing Earth.

In the morning, a crowd had gathered in the hangar to send the brave voyagers off on their journey. Among them, Kasimir weaved through the crowd in a vain effort to get a good view of the shuttle that they would ride. Peering through gaps in the crowd, he could barely make out the spherical craft. There was a wide window in the front, and tubes connected at the back of the body made their way to a switching station high above them. The shuttle was operated mechanically by people within the station in case of crisis. It served as the lifeline and base form of communication between the ground and space crews until it would be disconnected once breaching the planet’s atmosphere.

The shuttle, The Otis B. Planosphere, was so named in honour of the late inventor back on Earth. Suddenly, cheering erupted from the crowd as the Planosphere crew emerged from a big set of doors, waving at the massive crowd that had come to greet them. The crew had been rigorously selected to helm the first mission. After a bout of celebration, the crowd was ushered out of the hangar and the crew boarded the Planosphere.

Kasimir quickly made his way back to his bunk to witness the live televised event that the entire station had been waiting for. Along the way, he couldn’t help but run his fingers along the wall. When he looked at them, they were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Station 3 had slowly been falling into a state of disrepair. If this mission didn’t pan out, he estimated that with the current rate of water usage they would last at the most four more years. Already, the water was a green murk. The voice in the speakers began counting, and Kasimir rushed to his bunk.

“Five minutes, folks, and the first humans to ever touch the surface of a planet since our forefathers left their own behind will drop down. This is absolutely a once in a lifetime event, so be ready with that television, and prepare to watch history unfold. I certainly hope you’ve all taken the day off work. Now, in the slightest of chances that any one of you needs a refresher, the name of the shuttle is the Otis B.—”

Even the reporter had a hint of excitement in his voice. The plumber settled into his chair and locked his eyes on the monitor before him, taking a quick sip of tea before the big event. The claw holding the Planosphere in place let go as the floor below it retracted, sending the sphere tumbling through space toward the planet. He quickly turned his head to the window behind him, but couldn’t make anything out.

What if I’ve been trying to get to where I’ve always been?

What if we’ve been trying to get to where we’ve always been?

Simple math, believe me, all is brilliant

What if we've been trying to kill the noise and silence?

An airbag exploded around the circumference of the Planosphere causing the vessel to bounce around the surface of the planet before coming to a rolling stop. Sound in the station had gone completely silent, as people held their breaths waiting for figures to emerge. The airbag deflated, and thrusters moved the sphere into an upright position. The station was ablaze with roaring and clapping emerging from every direction, Kasimir’s bunk included, as he hollered along with the rest of Station 3.

The cables that connected the station and the Planosphere strained instantly, as the thrusters misfired and pulled the vessel further along the surface of the planet. In a bid to correct, the vessel was then pushed too far in the other direction, causing the station to rock from side to side. Kasimir tried to steady himself in his seat as the rocking slowly became more intense, dropping his tea and shattering the china on the floor. Passengers in the halls rolled back and forth with the station, tripping over themselves as they tried to find their footing. The announcer cut in over the loudspeaker announcing something of a problem, but he was inaudible over the shouts and crashing of equipment.

Stumbling to the window, the plumber noticed as the cable that connected the vessel and station was detached. If the lifeline landed incorrectly, it would crush the voyagers under its weight. He forced his way out of the room through a barrage of stationary. Out in the halls, he did his best to avoid fallen passengers, mumbling apologies quickly under his breath when he felt something squirm under his boot. Slowly, he tried to make his way to the bottom floor of the station.

Harita.

His father’s words.

The Blue Dreamscape. Supplies were dwindling. There wasn’t enough room for all of us. They may still be there, dying in the heat of the desert.

He’d heard the story many times, hope filling his father’s voice. One day they’d come across a planet just as beautiful. Settle once more under a blue sky.

1,526,085th in line. A wonder we made it in. So low on the rung, we didn’t get the chance at cold storage. They’re up there, you know. Above us now, sleeping until we find a home while we live drinking grime.

He’d become cynical before his death, cursing those who’d know a home.

The smell of grass.

壊れた、僕らの

希望の箱舟は

弾けた夢と墮ちて、

消えて行った。

In the chaos, a switch in the radio room must have been flipped. Kasimir couldn’t make out the language of music that had been put on. The woman’s voice echoed across the metallic halls as he made his way down the emergency stairs, his knuckles white with pressure as he gripped the railing. Once he’d reached the bottom, he was met with a door to the engineering room. A man with a long scraggly beard and orange jumpsuit sat in a corner, his arms around his leg nursing a gash. Kasimir could make out the faint outline of a name on his left shirt pocket. Smith. Blood pooled around him.

“What’s going on?” Kasimir attempted to yell over the rattling of metal.

“Fucking lifeline didn’t disconnect in time. We’re gonna fall into orbit!”

“Anything I can do?”

“There’s no contingency plan for this scenario,” the engineer said. “The only thing we can do is get as many people onto Lifesphere’s as possible. They should be directing them to them now, you need to get back up there if you want a chance to get out in time!”

Kasimir resigned himself, and began his trek back up the stairs when the power cut out and gravity dissipated, pushing both men into the ceiling.

“You want a job?” Smith yelled. “Turns out you’ve got one after all. I can’t move, and the artificial gravity must have been knocked out of place. You’re gonna have to place it back so everyone can get into the Lifesphere’s safely.”

Smith passed him a light.

“Just follow those blue dotted arrows on the wall. You’re looking for a big steel ball. You need to place that back into the receptacle. Hold on to something once you’ve put it in. It’s going to hit hard.”

Before he’d managed to find the steel ball, the metal around them began to heat up. The room began to smell of burnt hair. Screams could be heard from above. The station had entered the planet’s atmosphere.

_______

_____

___

Kasimir felt something under him. Wet, sticky, and soft. His eyes began to open slowly, adjusting to a bright light he’d never seen before. Around him, charred debris. He attempted to crawl out from the mound he found himself in, but saw the source of the liquid and realized that his leg had been pinned to the ground.

Under him, Smith had been pierced, torn to pieces by shards of metal. Kasimir threw his head to the side and heaved at the sight of what remained of the man. He pulled his arm forward to find something to grip and drag him out of the mess, only to be shocked at the sight of a stump. Blood escaped him at an alarming rate.

With his other hand, he turned himself over, catching a sight of the sky above him. Purple, unlike the stories his father had told him of Earth. He let out a weak scream, and the cries of people around him suddenly came to his attention. Circular pods shot through the sky. The lifesphere’s. Presumably, that meant that people had made it out alive. With his last remaining strength, he reached his hand below him and touched the ground, bringing a handful of dirt up to his face. Gasping now for breath, his arm succumbed under its own weight, burying his face in the dirt.

#short story #fiction #scifi #science fiction

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amnexicon · 7 years ago

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Ghosts

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

- - -

CHRONIC KIDNEY DISEASE—

Causes: Diabetes, high blood pressure, glomerulonephritis, polycystic kidney disease, genetically transmitted.

Diagnosis: Blood tests measuring glomerular filtration rate, urine tests measuring albumin, ultrasound, biopsy.

Treatment: Pills managing blood pressure, active lifestyle, dietary changes, hemodialysis, peritoneal dialysis, kidney transplant.

Symptoms: Swelling of the legs, feeling tired, vomiting, loss of appetite, confusion.

Status: Incurable, at 323 million affected and 1.2 million dead.

COMMON COLD, THE—

Causes: Virus, transmission via airborne droplets, direct contact with infected objects or persons.

Diagnosis: Self-diagnosis.

Treatment: Fever medication, nasal decongestant, rest, maintaining hydration.

Symptoms: Cough, sore throat, runny nose, fever.

Status: Incurable, with 2-4 and 6-8 cases per year for adults and children respectively.

FIBRODYSPLASIA OSSIFICANS PROGRESSIVA—

Causes: Autosomal dominant allele on chromosome 2q23-24, genetically transmitted.

Diagnosis: Elevated levels of alkaline phosphatase, bone-specific alkaline phosphatase, deformed big toes, missing joint, notable lump.

Treatment: N/A

Symptoms: Ossification of fibrous tissues either spontaneously or when damaged.

Status: Incurable, at 0.5 million affected.

GLIOBLASTOMA—

Causes: N/A

Diagnosis: CT scan, MRI scan, stereotactic biopsy, craniotomy with tumor resection and pathologic confirmation.

Treatment: Anticonvulsant treatment, corticosteroids, surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy.

Symptoms: Seizures, headaches, nausea, vomiting, memory loss, personality changes, localized neurological problems.

Status: Three new cases per 100,00 people per year.

INSOMNIA—

Causes: Psychoactive drugs, use and/or withdrawal of sedatives and pain-relievers, heart disease, pain, hormone shifts, fear, stress, anxiety, emotional tension, gastrointestinal issues, mental disorders, disturbances to the circadian rhythm, genetically transmitted, elevated nighttime levels of circulating cortisol and adrenocorticotropic hormones.

Diagnosis: Athens insomnia scale, sleep history and habits, overnight sleep study.

Treatment: Sleep hygiene, stimulus control, keeping a journal, regular sleep and wake cycle, music, medication, melatonin, antidepressants.

Symptoms: Trouble sleeping, sleepiness, low energy, irritability, depression.

Status: Between 10% and 30% of adults may have insomnia at any given time, while in 6% it may last for longer than a month.

TOXOPLASMOSIS—

Causes: Toxoplasma gondii, eating poorly cooked foods, exposure to cat feces, genetically transmitted (if contracted during pregnancy), blood transfusion.

Diagnosis: Blood tests, amniotic fluid tests.

Treatment: Medication.

Symptoms: N/A unless the patient has a weakened immune system or is immunosuppressed which can result in headaches, confusion, poor coordination, seizures, lung problems, encephalitis, necrotizing retinochoroiditis.

Status: About 50% of the population affected.

- - -

Part I. The Dove’s Death Hymn

Se Uita sat hunched in the corner of the dark room scribbling notes and throwing them to the ground when he was satisfied with his work, only to immediately replace the page with another. The mortician had fallen behind on his paperwork, and his assistant would sort through the mess on the floor in the morning. For now, his goal was to get down as much information onto paper as he could. Names, ranks, ages, and the district and time of birth and death if available. After hours of filling forms, he stood from his compact seat, stretched his legs and back, and headed out. The light shut off behind him, shrouding Se Uita in the dark of the night.

Initium Vitae Columbae opened early to ensure that preparations could be made before the mourning. Se arrived before the sun had risen, the metal door handle still cold. He worked his way across stacks of papers, ensuring none of them would be kicked up by the force of his heavy morning trudge as he made his way over to the pastel blue wall painted to give a calming presence to the families making their way through his door. There were no mournings to conduct today. A buzzing came from within his skull, and he put his index finger over his temple.

His gravelly voice, still tired with the early sun, sighed and answered.

“Se Uita, yes?”

The vision of a masked figure appeared in the left corner of his eye and spoke to him, the voice modulated so as to avoid identification.

“We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

“When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

“Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

“That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—” The other end cut out before the mortician had the time to finish his question.

Se Uita returned his hand to his temple and shut the blank display. As he turned around to face the front window, men dressed in white, Cleaners, lowered a dark bag from the back of a large truck on to the sidewalk in front of Initium Vitae Columbae. They were gone before Se had even reached the door. A team of runners, they weren’t usually so secretive with their requests. He’d get a truck like that every few months, but they’d always booked ahead of time. He always got a name, and he always knew where the money was coming from.

The sun had started to rise by the time he’d retrieved a bariatric stretcher from the back and managed to roll the bagged body on to it as cleanly as he could, given the unusual delivery method. With a solemn respect to the unknown person he was wheeling into his front door, he held his head low and kept quiet. While he didn’t know who, or what kind of person he was dealing with, after death they were all the same to him anyway. His procedure wasn’t going to change. They could still be watching him, and he was going to play by the rules.

He transferred the body from the stretcher onto a steel bed near the back of the building, hidden away from any potential customers. He kept his head clear in case any buzzing were to alert him of anybody entering, he found a pair of scissors, and proceeded to open the bag. He was disarmed by the smell. Nothing. The body, a woman, had been cleaned before she was placed in the bag. A plastic case was strung around her neck with a zip tie. He cut it loose. The payment.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

The steel bed was surrounded by seven canopic jars that held the remains of a Blimp-Whale corpse the mortician had found once while on a trip to the edge of the Ocean. Most of the jars held small sections of rib. On his trip, Se had also managed to find fragments of teeth, the sand having shifted enough during the night to reveal them before the party returned to the city. He’d cut the ribs into pieces as the sun rose and fit as many into his coat and bags as he could before everyone else had awoken.

After cutting the bag away from the body, he turned to one of the jars and filled it with water. He let it sit, doing this with each jar. After they’d all been filled, he waited for ten minutes for the bones to absorb the water. In the meantime, he opened a hatch on the side of the metal slab and replaced the fire-paper that lay underneath the cover of the metal table.

Once the clock had run its course, he removed the small sections of rib from each of the jars and placed them at each of her extremities. One at the head, two at the hands, and two more at the feet. The last two bones he held for himself, and again he waited as the cleaned bones transferred the Blimp-Water into their new host. Se could feel both of his hands weakening but there was no one else here for the woman in her death, and so he was left dealing with her final rites alone. He could hear the shuffling of papers in the other room as his assistant began the cleanup.

Soon, a grey smoke began to rise from her body. It was funnelled through a vent and sent to the roof of the building where it could find its way back to the Ocean. Usually, the mortician would close any openings and ensure to catch as much of the Ghost as he could, but there was no one here to collect any of the essence on her behalf, and he had no need to pry into her memories, thoughts, or feelings.

“May your Ghost reach the Ocean,” Se muttered, “and provide harmony.”

When the smoke cleared, he returned the bones to their respective jars and began the final phase of operations. Hands still weak, Se shuffled through drawers until he found a lighter and bent down under the steel bed. He felt around the metal bottom of the table until his fingers felt a small hole where the fire-paper could be reached by the lighter’s flame, and ignited it. Instantly, the table began to glow red until it was completely engulfed in flame. He watched in silence as she burned.

When there was nothing left but ash on the metal sheet, Se Uita beckoned for his assistant who’d been rummaging through the stacks of paper in the room outside. He came in with a small black bag, while the mortician lifted the table at an angle, sending all of the ash into the bag. Searching through his drawers once again, he pulled out a tag, labelled it A. #3323 and used it to tie the bag. He then turned to his assistant.

“Is the schedule still clean?”

“It is, sir.”

“Then you’ll be joining me on a trip to the Breach this afternoon.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

Se Uita and his assistant, who held the black bag, departed once the schedule was confirmed clean. Initium Vitae Columbae was near enough the Breach that they could walk to the nearest Versenwatch in minutes. A Crimson Guard Watchman sat behind a thick wall of glass and stood up as the pair approached him. He saluted them and sat back down.

“Me and the boy need Breach permits.”

The Watchman looked over his desk to identify the names, occupations, and ages of the travelers before him that the computer had gathered from it’s scan and entered into the terminal in front of him. He asked them the same questions for confirmation.

“Names?”

“Se Uita. The boy is my—”

“He’ll tell me.” Interrupted the Watchman. “What is your name, and what are your relations to this man?” he questioned, focusing intensely on the assistant.

“I’m his assistant, Kohsahr An.” The reply was much more confident than the Watchman had anticipated.

“Uita, your occupation?”

“Mortician.”

“And what brings you both down to the Breach?”

Se grabbed the bag from Kohsahr’s hands and brought it up to the glass. “The Transisting. No one to see her off but us.”

“Alright,” the Crimson Guard pushed a button on the console in front of him, opening a small square in the glass. “Pass it through.”

Se pushed the bag through the hole. The Guard placed it into a black box for scanning. Once confirmed clear, he pushed the bag back through to Se, who in turn handed it back to his assistant.

“Can’t be too careful,” the Watchman told them. “Two Breach permits. That comes to one-hundred CC each.”

Se reached into his pocket and placed 200 CCs through a second slit that had opened up before him. The Guard reached through, took the Capitol Currency, and replaced it with two Breach passes. A gate ahead of the two travelers opened, and they walked through.

The inside of the Breach that was available to the public was filled with souvenir shops and flashing lights. Groups of tourists wandered around, hopping from one destination to another. On the far end, windows peered out the the vast Ocean, only briefly interrupted by the forest directly below. The Breach was the only thing that protected the citizens of Novissimus Flos from nomad raids and the storms outside. To be this close made Se anxious, but the Ocean fascinated him just as much as it did everyone else. They made their way to an elevator and hit the top floor.

The roof of the Breach was barren and smooth from all of the sandstorms that had passed overhead. The few tourists who dared venture this high shielded their eyes from the harsh sun and debris that flew through the sky toward them. Most quickly returned to the elevator and back down into the primary tourist areas. Se and Kohsahr walked toward the railing, the only thing preventing either of them from falling off of the massive structure and into the sand-covered forest below.

“Kohsahr,” the mortician used his name. “The Transisting, if you would.”

The request startled him. He’d never been given this permission before. “Right, yes.”

He reached into the bag and threw the ashes into the wind. Behind him, Se Uita had begun chanting.

“May your Ghost reach the Ocean and provide harmony. May the harmony brought forth satisfy the Whale, Irisidiom. May Irisidiom, provided for and satisfied, return a harmony of her own.”

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part II. An epitaph for the Wisteria

The apartment was built on an axis, allowing the building to follow the sun as it moved through sky. From the Flos mountains, it looked like a sunflower in constant motion against the still outline of a city. It generated power for those living within who’d come to call the building Follower, or Flower. Inside, mirrors directed light from one end of the building to the other. It was a constant bright that bombarded the halls. Only the drawing of shades would drive it out.

Lillian sat, her arms folded on the table and huddled under a blanket, as she looked at Walker preparing breakfast. He’d pulled two red pills from two orange containers labelled separately for the both of them and held them in his hands. Suppression Pills. In a drawer just under them, he grabbed a black box, opened the top and placed both pills inside, checking quickly out the window first. He closed the lid and waited. The air around the 31st floor of the building was cold.

Lillian Lewis eyed the box. “You know they make better Skips now, right, that don’t take as long?”

“I’m waiting for a pink model before I upgrade.”

She smiled, laughing at the answer that had caught her off guard. “Dumbass.”

Walker turned back towards her, lifting his shoulders. “It’d look so much better with the decor.”

“Then why don’t you make one yourself?” She said as she got up, moving toward him.

“Oh, they’ve long surpassed my original design. Plus, I can’t paint f—”

Both of their skulls vibrated, and the corner of their vision was met with a view from the outside of their door.

“Should only be a few more seconds the pills are done. I’ll let them in,” he said as he pushed his way past her and out of the cramped kitchen.

The woman’s face was beaming as the door opened. “Walker Lewis! What took you so long? You think they’d teach you about punctuality in all that Guard training. How’ve you been?”

“We’re just about ready to execute th—”

A ringing from the kitchen. Lillian pulled the top off of the black box and put the now blue pills into their cups.

“—the plan. We were just waiting on you both to get here.”

Lillian walked in and welcomed Anoice and Scott Dourque, passing a purple cup to Walker. “All out of pink, sorry.”

“Oh, how will I ever get by.” He said dramatically before taking a big sip and pulling the pill in.

Anoice stared. “You still bother with that old Skip?”

“There’s no pink model, so obviously we can’t upgrade yet.” Chimed Lillian.

She led the group through a closet into a hidden room away from any of the large windows that covered the full lengths of the wall to the outside. She pulled a key from her long coat and opened a door leading to a black room filled to the brim with maps and pieces of equipment. A Crimson Guard uniform sat in the back corner, still shining from the recent polish Walker had given it. The four sat on opposing couches, cleaning the equipment and making small talk.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

The four converged individually upon the Central Novissimus Flos Suppression Office. It was broad daylight. A queue formed long within the building as people went in to confirm that they had been taking the pills and to ensure that their daily Suppression was working as intended. The outside of the building was lined with the Crimson Guard. Arms in hand, they stood on watch, unmoving, as people entered and exited the building. Only the guard at the entrance would move, inspecting everybody that entered.

Lillian, ID in her shirt pocket, pulled it out as she approached the guard. After a brief scan and a few questions, he waved her through. The inside of the building was sterile. The white walls had stripes of red pointing in various directions to lead the unfamiliar around. She made her way to the back of the line and waited for the commotion. Very few were unfamiliar with the layout. Most of the Offices were built as images of the first.

Walker had positioned himself, adorned in his Crimson Guard set, at the entrance of the Office and allowed Lillian in after putting up an act of inspection. He refused entrance to enough people so as not to draw suspicion to himself, wary of being watched by the other guards. The C-NF-SO was a squat, rectangular piece of concrete with massive windows and pillars looming out of the front. It was built on a tough foundation, and the outside was nearly indestructible.

Anoice and Scott were geared in a black suit of body armour meant for absorbing shock. It would be suitable enough for protection as long as the situation didn’t escalate any more than they expected. They stood around the block from the C-NF-SO and unpacked their large mud-green bags, pulling out arms large enough to get the attention of the Crimson Guard in order to draw them away from the building. Scott looked her in the eye.

“You ready?”

She replied as she placed the helmet over her head, her voice coming in through each of the four radios in a static haze.

“A3 and A4 in position, A1?”

Lillian looked to the ground, trying to avoid eye contact with the people in the building. “A1 ready, A2?”

Walker looked in the direction that the two were hiding.

“A2 set. Go.”

Scott and Anoice ran around the corner of the building and fired blindly at the guards, ensuring to miss Walker who instantly ran in their direction and called the other Guards over to his position, ordering capture rather than extreme use of force. The Crimson Guard had been wanting to question the Anti-Suppression Cell since they’d first caught wind of their activities. The group used this to their advantage. Civilians within the Office fell to the floor.

Lillian took the opportunity to run behind the counter, grab one of the receptionists, and force him to a door at the back of the building. She scanned his ID to the door, opening it. He dropped as she stepped through the door leading to the database and servers that contained all of the information on the people who lived in the central sector. She pulled open her jacket, taking out small, flat objects and placed them around the room. She attempted to run back out of the building, only for one of the civilians to grab hold of her ankle and pull her down with them.

Outside, Walker’s no kill order had been voided when they saw the explosion that Lillian had triggered when she fell. Anoice and Scott were shot on the spot, and the Guards returned to the Office to look for survivors and whoever had set off the explosion. The sounds of shouting surrounded the guards, but the man who’d grabbed Lillian stood up. He shouted, luring them towards her.

Walker was confronted with a helicopter that drew nearer to the ground ahead of him as he looked for signs of life in Anoice and Scott. He caught a glimpse of the Captain of the Crimson Guard, Eris Vermillion, as she and her entourage jumped out of the helicopter which then returned to the building to airlift the survivors to the nearest hospital.

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

One of the Crimson Guard broke from the squad and moved toward the survivor who had shouted to them, holding his hostage who squirmed in a fruitless attempt at escape. He picked her up over his shoulder and directed the survivor to the helicopter along with the rest of the people in the building, and called in to Captain Vermillion.

“Sir, I’ve captured one of the Anti-Suppression Cell’s members. What should I do with her?”

“We’ve got complications. Get rid of her, make it an accident.”

The Guard threw her off of his shoulder and she hit the ground, cracking emanating from various places throughout her body. He unholstered his pistol, quickly fired between the eyes, and called the Cleaners in to his position as he continued looking for survivors. When the group, dressed head to toe in white and looking out of a blank mask arrived at the scene, they already had Anoice and Scott laid out between them on a stretcher. One of the group picked Lillian up and placed her on the pile. The Cleaners then returned to their van.

Vermillion held the radio to Walker’s ear so he could hear his wife’s final screams.

“Walker Lewis,” she stated coldly.

She threw down a small cube, and a large gray box formed around the two of them until they were both completely enveloped within, alone in the darkness, until a small light descended from the ceiling.

The Captain found her way behind Walker, tying his gloved hands to the chair that had appeared under him, until she sat comfortably behind a table opposite him. “You will tell me what you know.”

“Goddamn nothing,” he said, “Just arrived at the wrong moment, is all.”

She slammed her fist into his shoulder, dislocating it.

“One of my former Guards just happened to suit up as a Suppression Office was attacked. You think I’m that stupid?”

“Should I have left the suit behind when I disappeared?” He said, laughing at her anger.

“Now’s not the time, Lewis. The casualties are over two-hundred at the last count. More are still coming in. What have you got against the Office?”

He spit in her direction. “A system of pills so regulated. Our immune systems are shot. We’ve been trying to wean off the pills for years, and we can still only dilute them so much without serious consequences. Doesn’t help when we’re tracked to ensure we take them.”

“We weren’t around before the Suppression System, Walker. You know the stories. Death for even the smallest things. We’re eliminating that threat. Without people like you, sickness would be gone completely. It would have nowhere left to go.”

“So until then we just risk complete extinction?”

“We’ve got all of these systems in place to fight that from happening, you know that. You were that. Soon, we won’t need to worry about anything. Killing innocents isn’t going to help.”

The Portable Cell-Block walls retracted, and Captain Ze Vermillion ordered one of the Guard to restrain Lewis, who caught a view of the destruction that surrounded them. The C-NF-SO had become a pile of rubble. Unidentifiable bodies lay strewn about the wreckage.

“You’re not going to face trial, Lewis. We can’t have the public knowing it was a Crimson Guard who caused this.”

She lifted her pistol.

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

Part III. Black Sand Wonderland

Twelve Hours Prior to the C-NF-SO Bombing

“C076, confirm presence.”

“C076, confirm.”

“C077, confirm presence.”

“C077, confirm.”

The figures dressed entirely in white stood in line and acknowledged their presence for the days work. The floor resembled fallen ash, but their steps made no marks. Ahead of the lined figures was one other, this one dressed in a similar uniform but marked by the distinct red features underlying various sections of the gettup. He stood, unmoving, and barked directives at the group.

“C078, confirm presence.”

“C078, confirm.”

“C081, confirm presence.”

“C081, confirm.”

He looked over the pad in his left hand, a section of names crossed out.

“Unfortunate accident. C082, confirm presence.”

“C082, confirm.”

“C083, confirm presence.”

“C083, confirm.”

The leader placed the pad on the podium beside him, which retracted into the ground.

“All confirmations acquired. Stand for orders.”

\\\ \\\ ||| /// ///

Thirteen Minutes After the C-NF-SO Bombing

The figures loaded the last body into the back of the white van and all seven stepped in to the vehicle after them. The leader, sitting at the wheel, received a message just as he began to pull the van away from the site.

“Captain Vermillion,” the static voice reported. “This drop is to be discreet. Three separate locations, no official statements.”

“Confirmed.”

He began driving and relayed the information to C082 in the seat next to him, who called three separate morticians.

“Se Uita, yes?” responded the voice of the first.

The old, bearded man was tired. It was still early.

“We’ve arranged a truck to transport a body over. Don’t need to know who it is. Cremate them. You’ll be paid fully in advance.”

One of the hooded figures in the back loaded three tags with the appropriate amount of Capitol Currency and placed them around the three necks.

“When should I expect it? When do you want the ashes? I’ve got a clear schedule today. If it stays that way, I can have the job done by nightfall.”

“Should be here now. We don’t. Do what you want with them, so long as there isn’t a body by the end.”

“That’s it? Who do I call when I’m do—”

He’d already moved on to a call with the next mortician before he had the time to hear Uita’s response.

#short story #fiction #scifi #science fiction

0 notes

amnexicon · 7 years ago

Text

Breacher’s Point

From above, it looked like a vast sea of sand. Wind carried dunes from one end of the desert to another, while small creatures poked their heads out of the sand in search of their next meal. Littered throughout the environment were the remains of hundreds of ancient civilisations that had been built on top of one another over the span of thousands of years. Now, they were nothing but chipped rocks jutting out into the horizon on the occasional days when the sun was visible, home to several species.

The ancient structures were themselves housed by the colossal remains that had once acted as a barrier against the harsh beating sun and sand of the outside world. The carcasses of the long extinct Blimp-Whale acted as sustenance to the nomadic people that once inhabited the desert. When one of the titans fell, it wasn’t long until people found themselves building structures within and around them. The Whales acted as both shelter and food, and as long as the nomads could defend their position, it saved them years of hunting in the dry wastes.

p)-(q

Sand streamed off of his body as he silently sat up against the rising sun. Slowly, he stood and shook off the leftover debris and the insects that had crawled up on to him to feast on the rare source of heat they could find. Nights in the desert, while beautiful as the reflection of the moon bounced off of the ruins and stars shone brilliantly in the sky, were not to be confronted by the unprepared. The man did his best, using a nearby piece of rock, to mark his resting place and then marched onward.

It had been ages since he’d wandered here alone. Lost or maybe forgotten by his party, he no longer remembered how he’d ended up in the desert, or why he’d chosen to come here. He survived by feeding on the creatures he stumbled across on his search for home, occasionally following them when he was running low on water. He still wore the uniform that he’d entered the desert with, only now it had been battered and torn, forcing him to use any excess material he could find as a source for his repairs.

To keep himself sane as he searched for home, the man, who no longer bothered to think of his name, began to talk to himself. It had started off quietly with mumbles here and there about his surroundings, but now it had grown into full conversations. In the hopes of feeling company again, he’d created two distinct voices and would carry conversations between them, often leading to arguments about the safety of the water he’d found that day, or whether or not he’d walked this way before. He had long since lost his original sense of self and replaced it with two puppets, neither of which he had full control of.

D’you see it? Su questioned in a piercing voice.

Of course I did, dumbass. Na retorted with a brassy voice of his own.

Then turn to the left, follow it! He urgently told Na.

That’s what I’m doing. Sighed Su’s annoyed other half.

The wanderer, at the request of the voices, followed the trail left by what they assumed to be a Lightfoot-Salafrog. If it didn’t return to it’s water nest within a few hours, it would dry out in the desert heat. Even if it wouldn’t lead them to a drink, it could serve as that night’s meal. Either way, there was no reason not to follow it, and the wanderer burst into a full sprint in an attempt to scare the creature back to the pond. It had been a long time since they’d stumbled on a nest, and weren’t about to let the opportunity slip by.

The wanderer followed the Salafrog’s tracks for as long as he could bear under the desert sun before setting down for something to eat. All he had left in his ragged pack were a few small insects, so he set them on the burning sand for a few minutes to heat them up to a palatable temperature before dining. He hadn’t even had the time to taste them before they slid down his throat and he returned to his feet.

Chicken, choked Su, why does it all taste like chicken?

We’ll feel better after we get to the nest and find something to drink. Assured Na.

The Salafrog’s trail hadn’t been blown away in the wind during his brief rest, so he continued on his hunt.

We’d better find a nest after this, warned Su, we don’t have enough left to carry us through the next few nights.

We’ll find him. Assured Na. He’s left a visible trail for us.

A trail won’t do us any good once we’ve lost the sun, Na. I’m giving us another hour to find him, or we’re done for.

Then we’ll have him in half. Replied the optimistic one.

The trail continued for another hour, as evidenced by the sun’s new position in the sky, before they’d lost the light completely. Resigned to his situation, the wanderer kept walking in the direction that the trail had led for a few more hours before he stopped and began to shovel a shallow grave to keep himself warm throughout the night. If he was lucky, he’d find the trail in the morning.

Once again, the wanderer woke to the hot desert sun that had warmed the sand just enough to keep him alive through the night, when he was unexpectedly greeted by Su’s shriek.

There! Ahead, do you see it?

Na stared in awe at what lay ahead of the two of them. It can’t be. Can it?

That’s a mountain range. We’ve made it, Na.

Over the course of the month, the wanderer pushed his way through the desert and toward the ever growing range ahead of him. Eventually, what started as a few peaks at the edge of his vision began to envelope it completely. All the while, hunting and gathering became easier as the desert was now dotted with patches of grass. Food and water were no longer an issue, and neither was the raging sun that had haunted him for years. He was now safe under a canopy of trees.

It didn’t take long after entering the forest that he began to spot the traces of a civilization. The ground was littered with unused items, broken bottles, a cracked porcelain teapot. All were beginning to rust and decay, but they were the first sign of people other than the ancient desert structures that he’d seen, and so he followed them diligently. He found himself on a long forgotten paved road that had been overtaken by grass and weeds. Whoever had been here, they’d been gone for decades now.

In the hopes of running into an abandoned city stocked with supplies, the wanderer kept following the road, only to hit a dead end after a few nights. The path ended at the base of the mountain, and there looked like there was nowhere else to go but back. The man inspected the area, coming upon an old phone booth encased in dirty glass. Inside the booth, he found only a dull pink phone, and a directory which contained three legible numbers:

Breach: 273-224-4747

Security: 066-732-4747

Overflow: 725-548-4747

Probably best to avoid security, given our appearance right now. Sighed Na.

Yeah, they could probably take us pretty good right now, huh? Whined Su.

With no clue as to what overflow might mean, they called the number marked Breach.

I’ll handle the talking, Su.

Na was greeted instantly by a friendly voice.

“Good morning sir. Back so soon? Please allow us a few minutes and we’ll have you back inside just in time for tea.”

“I just want to get the fuck in right now!” Su shouted as he slammed the phone back down on the receiver. His voice was course. It had gone unused for years.

The wanderer was left alone once again. Unsure of what to do, he stood in silence for a few minutes to contemplate his next move. Clearly the civilisation here was long gone, and the voice that he’d heard had been recorded decades ago, just like the artifacts that surrounded him.

Well, those lizards did taste pretty good, right? Sighed the disappointed, but still sarcastic, voice.

Don’t you dare joke about that, Su.

A ringing brought the wanderer back to his senses, and he returned the phone to his ear.

“The Breach ahead of you will open in a few moments. In the meantime, allow all of us here at The MINIMUM Company to welcome your return to the mountain city of Irisidiom. Please enter quickly, as any wildlife that breaches the wall will have to be exterminated.”

III

The veil ahead of the phonebooth lifted, and what had appeared at first to be a mountain range was revealed instead to be a massive steel wall. The wall was dented and cracked in spots, and rusting in others, but its massive frame could still stop anything in its tracks. Soon, a door was visible and a guarded pathway led the wanderer back out of the phonebooth and into a blinding passageway. The voice from the phone continued, now surrounding him, and prompted him forward.

“Please enter the mist on your left to begin the entry process.”

The wanderer did as he was told, and stepped into the white, humid room. He placed his feet on a conveyor, and was transported forward through scans and tests to assure that he was of no threat to the city. Once cleared, he was served a clean uniform, which he gladly put on, and was told to be on his way.

Our hair is so soft! Exclaimed Na with a newfound energy that had been restored during the quick bath and drying that they’d undergone.

The first thing on their mind after that was to raid the nearest place that they could find something to eat.

p)-(q

“After the fall of the last Blimp-Whale in 2906, the nomadic parties were left with only one option: To create a permanent home where they could not only survive, but thrive. After years of struggling, they managed to transport the last whale, Irisidiom, to what we now see as the center of our magnificent city. 400 years later, and their achievements lives on in all of us here today.”

The wanderer looked away from the ad that had begun playing as he entered the city’s centre, and looked around for what might have been the remnants of the Blimp-Whale. He spotted nothing but a vast array of shops lined in a pattern similar to one he recognised as the shape of the whale’s ribs. Around him, people bustled and pushed forward through busy streets. The wanderer stood still in the chaos, absorbed in the lights and sounds around him before returning his attention to his primary goal. When he laid his eyes on a glass display in front of what appeared to be a restaurant, his body began automatically drifting towards it, his mouth drooling at the ever approaching smell.

Inside, he found that he wasn’t able to get anything to eat without the necessary MINIMUM first.

“What’s all this about a minimum?” Su questioned the machine that had denied them service with his parched voice.

“Please reframe your query and try again.” The monitor announced.

“What is minimum?” Said tried the calmer Na.

“MINIMUM” began the machine, “is the currency used by the mountain city of Irisidiom. It is the culmination of your personal score and work credits. You currently have a MINIMUM score of: Zero. You must have a score of: 500 or higher to eat in this establishment. If you do not leave, you will force us to call security.”

Maybe we should get out. Thought Na.

Why? Security will love us! Replied a sarcastic Su.

The wanderer quickly retreated from the building and made his way down the alley off to the side in hopes of finding leftover scraps of food.

Behind the clean, clear facade that the wanderer had seen upon his arrival to the city, he now found himself walking through a dark, grimey corridor. Leaking pipes had formed pools of sewage on the ground, and the only source of light came from behind. People huddled together under blankets and coats in an attempt to warm up in the unheated part of the city, while others peddled cheap wares to anybody that needed to use the alleyway as a shortcut. The bright, reflective uniforms of the government workers clashed against the brown rags of the people that lived in the alley.

“You! Are you lost?” Cried a woman to his left, huddled under a window, and exhaling a pink mist. “You look like you could use a guide.” She continued.

“And you a haircut!” Retorted Su.

Quiet, Su. Urged Na. She could be our way in.

“We’d love a guide!” Replied Na’s smooth voice.

“We? Who’re you talking about?” The woman raised her eyebrow and flicked her hand, sending sparks to the ground.

“Name’s Su.” He said, proud of his own name.

“You don’t look like a Sue to me. How about Suzan. Suits you better.”

“No way in hell.” Said the suddenly serious tone.

“That’s my name, yes, Suzan. Su for short. And you are?” Quickly corrected Na.

“Not your concern. Where’d you come from?”

“The desert,” began Su, “I’ve been wandering around the desert for years.”

“The desert?” She let out a gasp. “They said nothing was left out there! How did you survive alone?”

“I don’t know if I did.” Na said sternly.

p)-(q

The woman led the wanderer, who she came to know as Suzan, through the city and explained to him the vast array of rules and requirements that the citizens were forced to comply with. As long as they’d kept a low profile and avoided causing any disturbances, security wouldn’t be after them. The woman explained that she herself had a MINIMUM score of only 3. If they were caught, they’d be sent to the Rewiring Stations that were rumoured to be housed underground.

They turned into an alley and the woman waved a group of people towards her.

“Ladies and dumbasses, I’d like to introduce you to our newest Castoff. Name’s Suzan.”

A crowd began to form around him, and Suzan was confronted with a flurry of handshakes, hugs, and welcome greetings from all of them.

“Get off of me, damn swarm!” Su yelled as they were crushed under another barrage. “Let me out of here! Let me back into that godforsaken sand trap!”

“We—I… I’m happy to be aboard. But, what are we doing?” Corrected Na once again.

“You,” replied the woman, “are our newest Castoff. You aren’t yet recognised by the system. They don’t have any record of you, if you’ve been out there as long as you say. Do you realize how much of an asset you are to us right now?”

“What’s the job. What the hell am I doing?”

“You run around and sell some of my Spice, and you’ll be rewarded with food and a place to sleep. Sounds fair to me.”

“I could absolutely eat some chicken right now.” Sang Su.

Desperate for food, both entities unanimously agreed that this was the right move for their current situation, and over the next few months found themselves living with the group that had initially welcomed them. Often, members would be caught and replaced, but soon Suzan was joining in with the greetings of the new members as well. It wasn’t as he’d hoped living in the city would be, but he had enough to eat, and the hidden Coriander stash kept him occupied. He lived now as a shadow in the city, just as the desert he’d lived in had been under the shadow of the mountains.

Left to waste in this cage for petty theft. Of course that’s how they caught me.

The thick steel chamber Monaghan found himself in had seen plenty. It had been dented from the inside many times, no doubt from the now broken shoulders of those who wished to escape. He’d been stuck down here for a month, the passing guard would remind him, and if they were feeling friendly, maybe they’d let him out in a few decades. He was told that this was his punishment for going against the order of the city.

“Prisoner #7669-4747, please report to counseling.” Said a monotone voice over the cell’s loudspeaker. A few seconds later, the door slid open and Monaghan was met with two guards.

“Let’s make it easy this time, alright?”

“Don’t I always?” He smirked back.

The prisoner was taken down a long series of dimly lit halls until he was in front of the same door that he’d been faced with once a week since his arrival. Once it opened, a slim man sitting at a wooden desk waved him forward into one of the seats in front of him, while simultaneously shooing away the guards.

“7669, how’ve you been?” He said in a high, nasally voice.

“Cut the crap, Molineux. What’ll it be this week?”

“Actually, it’s been decided that you aren’t fit for rehabilitation.” He said slowly.

“And that means?”

“We will no longer have any part in your reintegration process.”

“I got that much. What’s being done with me now?” Monaghan’s tense voice echoed.

“Guards!” The old man shouted. “We’re done here!”

The two guards that had previously escorted Monaghan to the door returned, this time restraining his arms behind his head to prevent the angry man from escaping. They dragged him through the twisting hallways again, past doors he’d never seen, until they came upon a hatch marked NoSec: Garbage Disposal. The two guards simultaneously pulled down levers on either side of the chute, and the steel jaw began to open. Once the maw had revealed its full width, Monaghan basked in the bright sun for the first time since he’d entered the facility before being shoved into the back of a truck.

#short story #fiction #scifi #science fiction

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amnexicon · 7 years ago

Text

Synovia

The following document contains transcriptions of various videos and tapes involving the events of the Liberty Bell disaster that occurred in the mountain city of Irisidiom on the 25th of January 3017.

All of the information contained within this package is classified in perpetuity. Anybody caught running the information will be persecuted.

* * *

Transcript of security recording #3: Outside the Mainstay Plaza, 2 hours before Liberty Bell

“Eight clips of French armour-piercers.” crackled a voice, presumably that of the blurry figure in front of the camera. “No, damn it, make it nine!”

The vending machine, red paint chipping, began to sing a tune signifying the start of its production of each individual cartridge. The small glass display on the front that once advertised all of the ammunition choices was cracked beyond recognition. The man knew his order from experience. He leaned against the machine as he waited, eyeing the whirling speakers above the machine as the metallic, squeaking song came to an end. A drawer burst open from the bottom of the machine and he calmly stepped back, narrowly avoiding broken shins.

“Congratulations,” started the modulated, childish voice, “your order has been—”

“Quiet!” hushed the man as he quickly grabbed his bounty and kicked the drawer back into place.

“—completed. Please take your order and stub we’ve printed for you and head to the front desk. A nearby associate will gladly accept any form of payment. At this time, however, we can not accept: SnowBits, Shards, NoSecCoin, Quicklight, Tozai Record, Coriander, Value, MINIMUM, Satelite Flowers.” The man loaded his weapon, cocked it, and aimed at the bright machine, “Itoh, Dollars, Capitol Cu—”

“Fuck. Shut up!” He fired into the speakers and the voice slowly began to trail, until it cut out completely after a few seconds. It had been a while since he’d had to waste a shot, but his enemies were all around him. The constant rattling of the machine would only bring them closer to him. His eyes locked on to an open vent above him, and he hurriedly scrambled over piles of trash and boxes. He gripped the top edge of the wall and pulled himself up, crawling carefully on the leaking pipes that had been above him, channeling water throughout the city.

Once in the vent, he pressed his stomach against the rusting floor and lowered his high-frequency visor to his eyes, clicking it into place in one swift motion.

“Battery level critical. Battery level critical. Battery level critical…” Blared the headset directly into his skull. He lifted his hand and dismissed the warning. Quickly, he scanned the area. Red dots surrounded him and, satisfied with the information, he brought the visor back up to his forehead and shut it off. He made his way through the vent, crawling silently as to avoid alerting his pursuers. His NoSec patch fell silently through a grate back into the room below.

* * *

Transcript of The Shard Corporation advertisement #23

SCorp_REC#23:

“Here at The Shard Corporation, our mission statement is simple: We serve you. Walk on over to any one of our easily accessible Preparation Centres today and ask about how you can receive one free sample of our easy-to-make, easy-to-love, all-in-one dinner solution for you and your family. Remember, we serve you.”

* * *

Transcript of mission objective: Ambergris Team

Objective: Ambergris Team is to lower themselves, by use of cable, into the western section of the Fallen Caverns. Once they’ve hit the ground, they are to follow the lighted trail laid down by the Myrrh Team before them and acquire the equipment left behind. Lance Corporal Cam Polsky, Sapper Kasavin Rigel, and Signaller Anna Andrej will then guard the gate in unison, keeping an eye out for the source of the unknown signal that has recently been emanating from the area. From here, they will either exit the cave in three weeks, or receive further instruction if they have reported anything out of the ordinary. Please keep in mind that this mission is of the utmost secrecy.

* * *

Transcript of tape recording #7: Ambergris Team, discovery of the body

“Andrej,” ordered Polsky, “turn around.”

“The hell I will.” dismissed the Signaller.

“Watch your tone with me. This mission’s serious. I can’t keep you safe from the higher-ups if they were to hear you.”

“Keep quiet and guard the damn gate, Cam. Then they won’t hear anything.”

“Andrej,” continued Polsky, “just turn around.”

“God,” footsteps are heard, Andrej’s turning, “what do you wan—”

“You see it?”

“What is that?” her tone was one of disbelief. She’d never seen anything like it before.

“The mission was classified. I guess this was why.”

“Rigel!” shouted Andrej, “get over here!”

A muffled shouting clouds the recording. Anything beyond here is speculation as the tape isn’t clear enough to be completely certain of what was said. It’s as if somebody is tightly clutching the recorder.

“Fuck, it’s got Kas!”

“Andrej,” Polsky shouted over the screaming, “on my signal.”

“Run and fi—”

The tape cuts off here. The recorder was retrieved by forensics, along with the remains of Lance Corporal Cam Polsky, Sapper Kasavin Rigel, and Signaller Anna Andrej. The circumstances surrounding their deaths are classified.

* * *

Transcript of Satelite Flower advertisement #47

SaFloAnnounce0047:

“Here at The Satelite Flower Agency, we know how tough finding that one perfect present for that one perfect someone can be. Don’t worry about feeling disheartened at the sight of our thousands of rows of hand-crafted flowers. All you need to do is bring a lock of his or her hair and we’ve got you covered. We know how to impress, so you don’t have to.”

* * *

Transcript of tape recording #18: Interrogation of Viktor Damascus, survivor

“All at once, the lights in the Safe-Zone failed. At first, there was an uneasy silence between us. Nobody dared make a move in fear of gettin’ gunned down by one of the opposing Corporation hitmen. We knew that if anyone made a wrong move, we’d all be mowed down. E’ry last one of us.

But then, it weren’t just the lights that went dark. No, our equipment crapped out too. Anything powered. Those new Laser-Dampeners to good old, tried and true, manual rifles. Eun-ha, her damned contacts even went black. Couldn’t see for shit. I think she was one of the first to go. Couldn’t have done nothin’ about it.

See, one asshole’s heart was bein’ kept beating by a machine. When the lights died, they brought him along for the ride. He was moanin’ and cryin’ and prayin’ to live. And it gave us the excuse we needed. Next thing you know, and we’ve got a bloodbath on our hands. We all thought someone else had sabotaged us, cut the lights in the Safe-Zone to get the upper hand. Either way, we were at it. Peristylium City fucker took my finger with him. Must’ve been a small knife. All I know is he let his presence be known, ‘cause he ain’t alive no longer.

Even those who weren’t ready to fight weren’t safe. Couldn’t see a thing, so there was no way out. No way to distinguish between ourselves. When we got a glimpse of the damage later on, the plaza was littered with kids. God damn kids. They weren’t involved in out mess. They weren’t even a part of the Corporate system yet. Had no patches on their sleeves. Not yet. Weren’t old enough to fight.

“Anyway, is that enough yet? I been replayin’ that scene in my head ever since, and now you assholes want to dig in there and see it too. Ain’t nothin’ new you don’t already know. And I seen you drag Olson over here too. He don’t know nothin’ either. He hasn’t known nothin’ for twenty years. Leave the man alone. He ain’t gonna talk about the Liberty Bell. Hell, I’m done talkin’ too. I suppose we got what was comin’ to us.”

The subject, Viktor Damascus, also drew a representation of the body he observed, which was scanned and is displayed below:

The Monster, Viktor Damascus, January 3017

* * *

Transcript of The Meresky/Cobalt Security Company advertisement #451

NoSecRecording451:

“Looking for work? The Meresky/Cobalt Security Company is looking for anybody willing to put up a fight. Want to tour the world? The Meresky/Cobalt Security Company offers thousands of work destinations, from the tropical Isla de Ha to the impressive, snowy mountain city of Irisidiom. Are you, or do you want to be, in the best shape of your life? The Meresky/Cobalt Security Company offers free, on-site training grounds so that you can lift the weight off of your shoulders. What are you waiting for?”

* * *

Transcript of data mined from the body’s conscious during the events of the Liberty Bell

“Why are all of the bodies bleeding? Why don’t they move?” the body seemed to question. “Did they do this to themselves?”

He lumbered forward, careful to avoid landing on any of the pointed buildings jutting out from the ground. Below him, those who had managed to survive whatever had occured before he’d arrived began to organise themselves under anything they could find. They scrambled in the darkness under the cover of unlit neon signs, into walls, and into each other. It was only through their constant communication that they managed to get away from his shadow that was looming over them. His shapeless body that toppled walls and crushed everything that fell beneath him.

“What is all of this? Why does it hurt when I land on them? Why do they stop crying after I’ve passed?”

His body continued slowly forward until the lights, without warning, switched themselves back on. Below, everyone looked at one another, and then stared up at him. Nobody blinked.

“Whatever had happened here,” the body began, “it seems like they’ve gotten over it.”

The people around him began waving each other over, shaking hands, ripping the patches from their clothes. Each of them held at least one small, shiny object in their hands. All of them pointed at him, it seemed. One figure on a tower above everybody else let out a cry, signaled his hand forward, and instantly the body was bombarded with pain. Blood poured from him. From wounds so small he couldn’t make them out.

“What is this?” wondered the body. “What is this feeling?”

Overwhelmed by pain, the body toppled forward, crushing everything ahead of him. He couldn’t see anything but the black dust that had been kicked up into his vision. His back began to sting from the continuing bombardment behind him. His mind began to wander. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t scream.

* * *

Transcript of Quicklight Incorporated advertisement #8

QL8A:

“Those MINIMUM Company scum got you feeling down? They gun down the neighbours dog you loved so much? Don’t worry, Quicklight Incorporated’s got you covered! Stroll on down to any one of our fine offices downtown today and find something that’ll really pack a punch. Show them who’s really the boss around here with our new Quick-Firing XA1 Portable Laser-Launcher. Kill those fuckers for us, alright?”

* * *

Transcript of Anderson Cole’s tri-diary: 32 years prior to the Liberty Bell

According to the Oracle, after the defeat of the monstrous invader hell bent on destroying humanity, they would all be free. The invader that had destroyed their precious city would lie there for years as a reminder of the threat the had once loomed over them. Of the time they’d all pulled together to kill a common threat. According to the Oracle, that was to be the start of a new age.

Anderson kicked his way out of her tent, heading off into a nearby alley. He stood under a pulsating blue neon sign advertising Coriander, that new spice that had recently hit the streets and managed to get everybody hooked. If he were still an Enforcer, he might care to raid the establishment and put the vendors under lock and key, but the Enforcers were a dying breed. They didn’t need his aim anymore. Still, potential buyers were wary of him, turning heel if they caught him looking at them for too long. Soon, the area had cleared completely.

He dug into his left pocket, fishing around until he hooked what he’d wanted. Lifting his fingers up to his mouth, his inhalation was followed shortly after by an exhale of glowing pink smoke. He sighed and threw it back into his pocket when Gleeson appeared next to him. As always, Gleeson had managed to stay clean. Not a trace of anything on him. It was a wonder how he could walk through the inner ring of the city without getting hit by a trace of something.

“What’d you find, Anderson?” he gruffly began.

“Nothing. Just some apocalypse crap.”

“Can’t even rely on the goddamned Oracles to tell us what’s going on anymore. What’s this world coming to.”

“I did my job, I’m paid either way.” Anderson sneered.

Gleeson pulled apart his coat and took out the first card he felt. “Two passes should do.”

“What am I supposed to do with two passes? Even here, a cheap lunch costs ten.”

“Then next time you’ll get me the information you need.” he finished coldly.

Anderson grabbed the passes from Gleeson’s gloved hand and trudged off back toward the lighted streets of the inner ring of the city. He quietly stuffed the passes into his back pocket along with the other one’s he’d brought with him. About fifty now. Maybe it was time to celebrate. He eyed a black market liquor store and set his course straight towards it.

“I’ll take a number two, and a number three,” he announced to the register as the doors slid open.

“Great choices, sir. That’ll come to 32 passes,” cheerfully rang the machine.

He laid the passes on the counter in front of him, counted them out, and scanned them in. The shelf behind him pushed the bottles he’d ordered forward, and they tumbled onto a padded landing on the floor. Anderson bent down and took his prizes back outside, hiding them under his coat as he passed under a Capitol Currency sign. It was probably one of the last black markets left in business anymore. Soon, it would be gone too, he thought. He’d be stuck buying that white SnowBrand shit soon enough. Maybe it was about time he started stocking up.

#short story #fiction #scifi #science fiction #art

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