Ferrassie scuffed her boot against the smooth metal of the city wall. Armoured trucks and vans rumbled past. The Neo coppers working the nearby gate looked almost as anxious as she felt. It had only been two days since slummies had attacked LC hubs and supply trucks. LC’s official word was that they were in negotiations with some slum kingpin and the roads were safe for armoured vehicles once again. The food factories were reopening too. Not that Ferrassie would ever again have to set foot in the cricket factory. Not now she’d been offered a screen test for a new Neandertal reality tube program by the creators of Keeping Up with the Cavemen.
She took deep breaths to calm her nerves. Amud had been on at her about how risky it was to meet up with some dodgy littlebrain who’d contacted her on CorpNet. She’d told him to fuck off. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
She knew in her gut it was gonna work out. Ferdinand, the casting director, had organised her transfer from her labouring position to his entertainment company. He wouldn’t do that unless he was certain she’d be right for the tube. She’d be pissed off if they rejected her.
A truck pulled into a nearby parking bay and a large bloke, his shoulders even broader than Ferrassie’s, got out. Bull horns jutted from his forehead: a transgene punk.
‘Ferrassie?’ The bloke came towards her.
‘Ferdinand?’
‘Yes. A pleasure to meet you.’ He grasped her hand and pumped it twice. ‘We’d best be on our way.’
Ferrassie’s mouth went dry. ‘Come again? Where we going?’
Ferdinand peered left and right, leaned in and whispered, ‘Our headquarters are near the Keeping Up with the Cavemen secret location. We do all our business from there. If we have time you can take a peek at the cast.’
‘Oh.’ Ferrassie wasn’t keen on travelling outside the city while things were still a touch dodgy in the Demi-slums. The truck was armoured though, like the bus she took to work – used to take to work.
Ferrassie climbed in and Ferdinand drove them to the gate.
‘What’s your business outside the city?’ A Neo copper held out an OmniScreen to scan Ferdinand’s retina.
‘Delivering nano-waste to manufacturers.’
Ferrassie frowned. Come again?, she wanted to say. Ferdinand winked.
Another Neo copper waved a scanner wand over Ferrassie’s tattoo. She cringed, waiting for the alarm. Neos’ movements were tightly controlled and unless Ferdinand had got her work clearance, she wasn’t supposed to leave the city in anything other than the bus to the factory. The scanning wand gave a benign beep. Ferdinand had come through. It was gonna be fine.
‘And you, clone, what’s your business?’
‘She’s my new employee,’ Ferdinand said.
‘Right then. Have a good one.’ The Neo coppers retreated from the truck and the metal gate slid into the wall.
‘Why did you, um … lie?’
Ferdinand shook his head. ‘Trust me. There are spies everywhere trying to discover the location of the Cavemen set. It’s worth a lot of cash to the paparazzi. If I told the guards where we were really going they’d call it in for a reward and someone would send a drone after us.’
She supposed that made sense. Folk were insane when it came to celebrities.
The truck left the city, heading in the opposite direction to the food factories. Other than the smooth dark patches of tarmac where blast holes in the roads had been filled, the Demi-slums looked as chaotic and filthy as ever.
After twenty minutes the Demi-slums gave way to the remnants of the suburbs. Invading plants held together the rubblefilled carcasses of buildings. Ferrassie pictured the layers and layers of human relics and remains buried beneath the ground, telling a story that crumbled into shards and dust the further back you went. All the way back to the Neandertals and the ancient ancestors who had come before them. One day City 1 would be just another buried layer.
The burbs seemed to go on forever. Ferdinand didn’t yak much. The silence made her edgy. If Amud hadn’t got all high and mighty and forbid her from meeting up with Ferdinand she might have been more cautious about the whole thing. She’d had to take this chance though. The other responses she’d got on the chat board had been erotic dancing and Neo fighting. Her ultimate aim was to be a recording artist, and being on a reality tube could open the right doors for her.
‘Can you tell me more about this tube you’re casting for?’ Ferrassie asked.
‘Not right now. I’m doing some work on my IntelliEnhance while I drive, so I won’t be able to speak.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Well, that sounded daft and dangerous. She stared out the window and hoped they wouldn’t crash. It would be fine. Ancient Neandertal skeletons showed they’d lived through heaps of injuries. They’d been lords of the earth for hundreds of thousands of years; they were tough genetic stock.
The truck cruised along, putting the city further and further behind them. Ferrassie hummed and daydreamed about what life would be like when she became famous. She’d get to meet all the other celebs, little-brain and Neo. She might even get some littlebrain action. She’d always been curious, even though they had ugly mugs with puny features and dodgy round-shaped heads. They were all so alike it was almost as though they were the clones. She smirked to herself at the idea of snapping the hips of some little-brain when she wrapped her muscular thighs around him. Although fame wasn’t only about folk adoring her. If she showed the little-brains what she was capable of, then they might treat all Neos with more respect. Plus the only time she was ever truly happy was when she was singing. And she never, ever wanted to see another cricket. Unless it was ground into flour and she was eating it.
After a while the house carcasses thinned and they entered the industrial zone where all the complexes were shrouded by high razor-wire fences. Two ragged-looking men standing by the side of the road jeered as the truck passed. The wilds beyond the cities were like the bottom of the ocean, full of life that no one really knew much about.
Night had fallen by the time Ferdinand turned off the highway onto an unlit, unsealed road. The truck headlights bounced off neck-high grass and weeds. Out of the undergrowth appeared a rickety weatherboard house surrounded by rusted-out vehicles. Light oozed from the windows.
‘This is your headquarters?’ Ferrassie had pictured something more professional, well lit and surrounded by a chain-link fence and private coppers.
‘It’s a work in progress. We’re about to begin renovations.’ Ferdinand led her up the creaky, rotting steps and through a shredded flyscreen door.
Streamers of wallpaper hung from the walls and the house smelt dusty and mouldy. The floorboards were buckled and faded.
A tall lady with bucky teeth came down the hallway. She took Ferrassie by the shoulders and smooched her on both cheeks.
‘Welcome. I’m Peony. You must be Ferrassie.’
Ferrassie nodded, words stuck in her throat. This whole thing was dodgy. Crap, fuck. Amud was right. This was a mistake.