Upon Stilted Cities - The Battle for Langeles Page 2

  It occurred to her that a mutual agreement on the salvage was unlikely, but perhaps with the threat of the Children of Gaia, they could at least prevent all-out war. Sa’dah was a warrior at heart. If it were a choice between the City of Saud and the City of Manhatsten, she would do everything in her power to assure that it was Saud that was still standing at the end of the conflict. In the end, it was her city that must survive, at all costs.

  Historian’s Note to the Text From 834.2.6 I.S.

  Dear Reader,

  During the 21st century, there were two major human migrations. These migrations were largely concerned with the movement of human populations based on resources, war, and global climate change. Based on historical records, the earliest waves of migration began in the year 2011 of the Common Era.

  The conditions of the ancient nations of Iraq, Syria, and Yemen (for more information, including an individualized, detailed account of these nations, please visit library 916 in sector 8754) during the early 21st century created millions of refugees. At first, the mass migration of people appeared to emerge from economics, war, and civil strife. However, in hindsight, historians reevaluated the crisis and ensuing conflicts and recognized that they were augmented by the early stages of rapid global climate change.

  Addressing the European Union (for more information on the 21st century European Union, please visit library 587 in sector 931) President Jean-Claude Junker on September 9th, 2015 of the Common Era stated: “Tomorrow morning, we will have climate refugees. We should not be surprised or astonished if the first climate refugees are coming to Europe.” As suggested by German sociologist Harald Welzer during the second decade of that century, the already rapidly changing climate exacerbated much of the causes of war. During those early days of rapid climate change, the State of Yemen was already engaged in water wars, which would later spread throughout the region and then across the globe.

  The first great human migration of the 21st century saw a movement of people from poorer nations towards nations that had amassed great wealth and prominence. By the early 21st century, ancient Europe and the ancient United States of America had amassed a great deal of power during the colonial and post-colonial periods (for information on ancient European colonization patterns and its impacts, please visit library 156 in sector 308) and could establish dominance across the world. Other nations such as Ancient China, India, and Japan struggled to maintain power due to their overwhelming populations, and susceptibility to climate change and the rising sea levels. Refugees fled to these powerful nations in hopes to survive the climate crisis.

  The refugee crisis reached its peak in the 2051 when the increasing pressures of climate change played host to the Third World War, also known as the Great Water War. For more details on the Great Water War, visit library 17 in sector 17.

  The second great human migration involved a movement into cities. Large cities implemented emergency systems that would allow greater sustainability. Walls and defenses went up around every major city and passports were given to citizens of cities. Free trade between cities was stifled as conditions of the natural environment outside of the cities became increasingly hostile. With the invention of the EnViro dome in 2078, it became possible to shield cities from the rapidly deteriorating climate conditions of the planet Earth. Thus, two migrations of human populations played host to the proper conditions rife for the creation of the Great Stilted Migration that historians officially mark as beginning in 2102 CE and also referred to as 1 A.C. (After Civilization).

  Matron Mariposa Phillips 836.12.29 I.S.

  Chapter 2

  Dreams of a Runner

  Submission. Like a toy truck pulling a horse trailer, there was no way forward. The wound, open again, gushed. His eyes betrayed him, opening and closing and opening again. He marked the number of breaths, acknowledging that there were only a few more left. The only smell, that of iron and blood.

  He released his helmet. It made no difference now, the suit no longer filtered air, was no longer keeping him cool. The fever burned, white-hot pulses through his body. He wanted open air during his death.

  A long shadow cast over him. It caught the heat of the air and mingled, swirling and changing. Death was here. It had come in person. Of course, it would. He blinked and tried to focus. It took everything he had. He was deaf to all things, blind to most, and felt the dedication to his idol of persistence wane.

  He whispered, “Persist above all...” he laughed and coughed, devolving into a choking, rasping, white-hot pain in his gut. Half of a groan escaped his lips; the other half died in mingled pain.

  But, he had to tell Daniels. It was the only thing he was holding on to.

  Then a tapping, the shadow pressed a heel against him, jostling his body. He was limp, only able to stare up at the semi-shielded face of the foot’s owner.

  A moment of audio pierced the silence, but just barely.

  “Are you alive, alive, alive, alive?” The words echoed.

  What the Runner said next was garbled liquid. He thought it might be a female voice, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe the bastards were right; maybe it was Gaia. Maybe Gaia was Death, the reaper of all things.

  Then the face in the shadow illuminated. A hallucination probably, but a strange one. It was the young girl, the inspector from the docks... Jade. No, not Jade, not this time. Her name was something else this time around.

  “Hang on. Help was on the way.” The voice was different.

  He blinked, and the face of the young girl was gone, replaced with another female Runner. Her face was weather-worn and aged. He didn’t recognize her but wondered how he could confuse Alexa and this woman.

  Another shadow approached. And another. And another. Many stood above him now. They circled like conspirators in the night that held their daggers, ready to plunge him into his ultimate end. Then they were angels greeting him into the gates of heaven or demons into the gates of hell. Runner 17 couldn’t be sure, and it took so much effort to make a decision now, a decision that ultimately wasn’t important. With all of his effort, his eyes closed; they stayed closed for a long time.

  2.

  His eyes are opening to a thick dark fog. It is a hot evening, and he glances at his alarm clock. It is 4 a.m. He looks at the calendar and recognizes the date: October 17th. The date seems somehow familiar, but he can’t trace it. He rolls up into a sitting position and tries to clear the sleep out of his eyes. It will not leave. He stands up and glances around the room. In the corner, in a makeshift bed, sleeps his son Joseph. He can tell his son is sleeping; his breathing is heavy, and there is no movement.

  The only sound around is the rustling of leaves in the wind.

  A moment of lucidity strikes him. Had it all been a dream? A nightmare? Had all that running around in that heavy suit in the middle of barren wasteland been a mere construct of his mind? Had he dreamt of a life so many centuries long in just a few hours?

  Out of instinct, he reaches down towards his chest where the puncture wound in the dream had been. Relief. Already the images and sounds of the dream are fading.

  Joseph is turning over; he is still sleeping, the blankets tangled between his legs. He is attempting to kick them off him but fails. Joseph never did like being covered. His breathing deepens.

  The wind’s song is interrupted.

  Thud, Thud.

  It is a far-off noise, but a potent one. Something urgent, some knowledge of what that noise is stirring in him.

  Thud.

  There again, something internal is screaming at him, begging him to remember the information from the vault in his mind. He is peering out the window of a shabby old house. He is looking for the source of the noise. There is nothing but empty silence, a silence filled with potential terror and fright. He doesn't hear any animal noises, and something about that is bothering him. Awareness trickles in. Then like a dam bursting, the flood. All the knowledge of the origin of the noise is consuming him.

  Thud, Thud... Thud, Thud, T
hud.

  It is a whole series of noises, the sound of the air compressing and releasing from somewhere high up, from somewhere above the atmosphere. But the noises are still far off. He knows that for certain; if those noises are up close, you can hear the sound of metal and glass and concrete blasting into a billion pieces.

  He knows what he must do. He needs to get Joseph to the underground shelter. A sense of purpose fills him, makes him whole again, despite the loss of his wife. They must get to shelter. It was what she would have wanted.

  The shelter is only a few blocks away, but he knows that a few blocks might as well be a thousand miles when the High Altitude Drones (or the H.A.D.) rain death down on your city. For a brief moment, he is wondering how the people of China feel when the American H.A.D.s are demolishing their city. Do they feel the same sense of paralyzing fear, the same utter terror as the thudding and the sound of small explosions creep ever closer? Do they look to the sky and when they see a bird, do they feel a wave of terror? It must be so, for pain raining from the sky invokes a universal agony.

  “Joseph, the H.A.D., we have to go now.” He tries to keep his voice steady, but like his body, it was shaking.

  He is waking his son violently. Louder now, “Wake up. Wake up. We have to get out of here.”

  Joseph’s eyes are opening to the sound of his panicking father’s voice, and then he hears the thuds. Every kid in the world knows this noise now, they hear recordings of it, see footage on the internet, and it is the stuff of every child’s nightmares. It is the subject of all great 6-year-olds’ crayoned masterpieces. Joseph is only 6, but he has the comprehension of a battle-hardened veteran and the same post-traumatic stress. Childhood and play are a thing long in the past, to a time before climate refugees, before world war, before the billions of tiny mistakes that were coalescing into one source of ultimate destruction of every human being on the planet.

  He jumps up. “Dad, where are we going?" His voice is ragged and tired. The child-like whine is still audible. "The shelter is several blocks away.”

  “It’s okay Joseph, as long as we move quickly, we’ll be okay. The drones are still far off.”

  Joseph doesn’t argue, but he sees his father’s terror frozen on his face. Joseph has already lost his mother to the H.A.D., and instinctively his father knows that Joseph thinks he may lose his dad as well.

  “It will be alright Joey, let’s go, the shelters are shielded, they’ll keep us safe.”

  The shelters aren’t really shielded, but they are hundreds of feet below the ground, where the space drones cannot reach. Once you enter the shelters, already a dozen meters below the surface, you climb into one of a series of elevators that take you a hundred meters lower. Once you exit the elevator, you walk or run for nearly a kilometer before coming to the shelter entrance. The shelters are a few hundred meters in size and have several dozen rooms. Each shelter can accommodate a few thousand people for as long as a month. Every city has a few shelters, but the need for them is gradually decreasing as the populations across the planet fall under the weight of the H.A.D. and the endless wave of natural disasters.

  Thud, Smash, Thud, Smash, Slam, Crash.

  A cacophony of noise takes hold of the father and his son. The noises are intermixed with screams, shouts, and hard slaps of sneakers on concrete.

  Joseph’s eyes widen with fear, and his father picks him up, grabs only a picture of his mother and runs out the door. He is holding the boy close and silently vows that nothing will make him let his child go. He will not lose Joey, too.

  He has come so far since he quit his stockbroker position, and Joseph has changed his life in the blink of an eye. When he learned that Jade was pregnant, he was angry at first, but once he saw the ultrasound, he wept healing tears. This child was his medicine; he was what is saving his soul from monstrous greed and the pain of his mistakes. He is grateful for the change, but now he is in danger of losing everything.

  Others are running toward the shelter. The sound of their footfalls are masked by the onslaught of thudding and the sound of breaking steel and glass as the devastation migrates across the city.

  Some have children, some have companions, but so many are alone now. Loss is a trend. Humanity is crumbling under the weight of the Third World War. A billion are dead already.

  The H.A.D. hits the building behind them and to the left. An energy pulse flattens a building, and the force of the explosion knocks everyone within a few hundred meters to the ground; they are scrambling to stand. Dogs on ice. Fresh scrapes and bruises mark their body and blood is trickling down 17’s left cheek.

  17 is in his EnViro suit again. He picks himself up off the hard cement and then lifts Joseph and continues running for the shelter. Joseph doesn’t seem to notice the change in his father’s attire. Terror is with him. A fresh streak of urine is making its way down the front of the boy’s pants and the front of 17’s EnViro suit. They are twins in this way, variations on a theme. Divided only by time.

  They run hard, and they make it to the entrance to the shelter. The metal door swings open and the pair enters one of the elevators. The door closes. There is safety for a single breath. At that moment, the thud echoes directly overhead, even through the metal and earth. Time freezes and 17 knows exactly what is happening. He is staring long and hard at little Joey. He wants to tell the boy so much; he wants to trade places with him. 17 knows how this will end. He will wake up several days from now in the hospital, but Joseph will not wake. He will live a little longer in a coma, but one night he will simply fade.

  In slow motion, the pressure from the energy blast pushes the elevator down. 17 can hear the cables snapping, the sharp metallic clicking of each one giving way; he hears the metal above bending to the will of the H.A.D. He feels his body descending faster from the force of the blast. He is reaching, grasping ever so slowly out to Joseph, grabbing his son and pulling him close. This time he will change it, this time it will be different, this time the little boy will live, and the father will die. But it is futile. It is a memory. Unchangeable.

  17 rages. He is screaming at the top of his lungs in his EnViro Suit, but no one hears him, not even Joseph. His screams cannot penetrate the protective insulation of the helmet. The world tinges red, red like his rage, red like a garment, red like a veil.

  His suit is a prison, a curse, a crucifixion, like the lashes felt by his African ancestors in an age of slavery. But his bondage is eternal; he cannot die. Only the unending persists. This is his punishment for participating in the greed that brought the world to its knees.

  Tears of red stream down the dark skin of his cheeks.

  He must break the cycle. One day soon, he will give his life to try and do so. He must do his part.

  3.

  17 woke in a medical alcove. The fluid drained. If he had been able to, he would scream, but still, the stem-cell-based fluid was in his lungs, and he choked and coughed. It had been a long time since his semi-dream state returned him to that part of his history. Perhaps it was the bodies outside Langeles that reminded him of his own terrible loss.

  The doctor pressed a button that lifted the alcove to a 45-degree angle. His lab coat was a novelty these days. Doctors were all but extinct with the Alcove, but a few still studied the medical sciences. The doctor had a well-manicured beard of brown and red and large, owl-like eyes.

  “So you return to the land of the living, do you? Daniels is right; you are unkillable.”

  17 grunted. He found the words distasteful. His long life felt like a curse. What was his purpose? Why the hell was he still alive after all this time? He had changed his life, given up the ways of greed and lust. He had donated most of his many millions to the Climate Refugee Alliance, and his reward? His reward was losing both his wife and son. What purpose could he possibly have now? The 1300-year-old wound was open again for the first time in centuries. It throbbed with every beat of his heart.

  He pushed it all back down. All of it was for another day, anoth
er time, he couldn’t dwell on the pain; dwelling on the pain is how he had ended up a Runner in the first place. His choices in the first days of migration were born in grief. Addiction consumed him in those days, and he had hurt so many who stood between him and his private narcotic oblivion.

  17 glanced around the room. The other alcoves were empty. It was a good sign he wasn’t too late to do something. He thought of Langeles, of that crazy female runner, of her mention of the trap and the Children of Gaia, and suddenly he had one burning need.

  “I have to speak with Daniels immediately.”

  “Runner 17, do you know how rare it is for anyone to survive with a ruptured EnViro suit out in the Barrens in the middle of the day? Not to mention your open wound and significant blood loss? Do you know how many toxins are flowing through your blood right now? It’s going to take days in the alcove to restore your body properly. You cannot get out of this alcove.”

  “Then why did you revive me?”

  “To monitor your brainwave activity and nerve responses. They were functionating in a way I have never seen before, not even with you. Something is going on with that chip in the base of your skull, and I was concerned that I would not be able to bring you back to full consciousness. But you will be returning to the alcove shortly now that I see you are your usual difficult self.”

  “Dammit Doc, none of that matters. I need to see Daniels, now. The entire city is in danger. If I can’t get out, bring him down here.”

  The doctor sighed. “Daniels is very busy, what with Saud so close and those Langeles ruins.”

  “This is about that, it’s important. I need to see him right now.”

  “I will bring someone down from security to relay your message.”