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Wednesday Evening–New Arcadia
Rick hurries through the dark auditorium. He needs to move before he’s attacked by more flying bee-bots. He feels like his normal himself again. The shroud that clouded his mind has lifted. He pushes past the glass doors and into the city. His fresh perception of the underground empire is striking. The walls are drab, painted a dull puke green. Conduits, pipes, and tubes crawl along the walls and ceilings in all directions. The city’s design is bland industrial mixed with boring institutional. The entire city looks dull, everywhere, but the luxurious conference room of the silver tunics.
All the corridors look the same with endless runs of conduit and pipes snaking on the walls and drooping from the ceiling. Ever present are the ugly, bumpy pumpkin-colored tiles. The floor is freezing cold.
Rick thinks of Ethan’s comment about the hideaway being like a submarine and feels this city could be the bowels of a navy ship. Rick runs along a corridor as autonomous maglev vehicles, carts, and the occasional person riding a Maggie zip past him. He must stay close to the corridor wall and wary of traffic to avoid getting smashed.
Rick remembers the Surface Integration Storage room, full of products to prepare people for living on the surface. He decides he will get to that room, stock up on gear, make his way to the Electro-Rail Station, and catch a speed train to Los Angeles. He tries to recall the map he saw in the orientation video and thinks there’s a direct route to Los Angeles or Edendale, the underground version.
Rick envisions his beautiful wife, Courtney. She must wonder where he is. Rick can’t recall when they last spoke. He takes a deep breath. The air is sweet and fresh. He has renewed energy. Rick runs down a familiar-looking corridor he thinks will lead to the supply room. He feels like he can run and run. He breathes deeply.
After a few minutes, his pace slows to a walk. The urgency to get where he is going grows less intense. Rick wanders through corridors in search of the Surface Integration room, but he can’t find it. He looks to his wrist to check his band, then remembers, they took it from him.
Rick walks down a dark narrow hallway. The painted cement floor is warmer than the orange tiles. He hears a scuffle further down the hallway and a man shouting. Rick spots an open door ahead. The sound is from the room behind the door. Rick creeps to the door, then peers in.
A man in a navy-blue tunic struggles with men in black tunics. “Let me out. This isn’t a nuclear war experiment. I didn’t sign up for this.” The man fights and kicks the men in black tunics. The men in black look like military men. They wear black caps, utility belts, dark-shaded wrap around VUE lenses and they have strange-looking silver rings hanging under their noses.
Two men wearing black fight with the raging man. One of them howls when the man yanks his nose ring and tosses it. The metal ring clinks along the floor, landing a few feet from Rick.
The black tunic yells, “Ow! He pulled my D-Nox.” The black tunic panics for a moment, wipes blood from his nose, then forces the man to the floor with increased fury. The two black tunics get the man down to his knees but struggle to get him prone on the floor. Rick looks at the metal nose ring. The ends that insert into the nostrils are flesh-colored and are wiggling.
A third black tunic holds a gun. He tries to aim, but the blue tunic keeps flailing his arms, fighting the guards. He moves the gun trying to aim but can’t get a clean shot.
A large, strong-looking military man, also wearing a black tunic, stands to the side of the fray. He has a silver nose ring but doesn’t wear a black cap. His head is bald. Rick assumes that the large man is the leader because he’s barking orders. “Pin him to the floor and relax him!”
The struggling man continues to rant. “The Black Guard cannot stop me or the others who will tell the truth! You lied to us! Fucking liars!”
The Black Guard leader steps forward and hits the struggling man with a fierce punch to his head. Rick hears the crunching sound of bones breaking. The man slumps unconscious. When the Black Guard release him, the body falls forward with a heavy face-plant to the cement floor. The Black Guard with the gun aims anxiously and shoots the unconscious man with a dart, though it’s obvious the prostrate body no longer requires relaxing.
The guard who lost his nose ring walks to the doorway searching for it. Rick steps back into the darkness of the hallway.
“Get this garbage out of here,” orders the Black Guard leader.
The other Black Guard who struggled with the unconscious man looks to his leader with excitement and admiration. “Yes, sir. That was great, Captain Kobalt.” He then helps drag the body into the dark recesses of the utopian city.
The Black Guard leader touches the air to answer a call. The edges of his eyes twinkle. “Colonel, we had a mental disturbance. A blue shirt. It’s under control.”
The colonel’s voice is brusque. “Episodes like this cannot be allowed. Control must be maintained. Our citizens will soon learn of the real disaster and realize that New Arcadia is not an experiment. We have spared them death. They are the few and the fortunate. They must be grateful. Non-compliance will be dealt with swiftly. There will be no panic. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. This was a singular episode. The problem is solved.”
“Stress levels will increase. We will raise city atmosphere levels. We must maintain control.”
Kobalt grunts a “Yes, sir.” The call ends.
The colonel is in the elegant conference room. He ends the call and notices the scientists around the table are staring at him. They had listened to his call. They don’t move. The colonel taps his cane on the edge of the table—smack, smack — and observes the group.
“We can’t have our team members upset about a billion dead people on the surface. It is Earth’s destiny. There is nothing we can do.” The colonel pauses, no one stirs.
“We are saving the world, at least as much of it as we can. Six cities full of talented people. You saved them. I will do whatever it takes to survive this crisis and create the highest level of human civilization the world has ever seen. That is our mission.” The colonel walks to the conference room door giving a last order before exiting. “Sound general quarters. I will monitor from my office.”
Once in his office, he calls Kobalt. “We have another situation. We have a silver tunic wandering about the city: Dr. Munday, the last arrival. I’ve sent his profile to you. He is a disturbed criminal. I subdued him with an earwig in the conference room, but he escaped into the city. He doesn’t have a band, so you can’t track him. The city atmosphere should calm him but keep an eye open. I won’t stand for more trouble.”
Rick makes his way along a busy corridor as maglev carts and trucks whiz past. He hugs the wall looking for a hallway or small corridor. He spots a small narrow hallway, but it’s on the other side of the four-lane corridor. He watches as large and small vehicle’s speed past. He needs to time his run, or he’ll be New Arcadian roadkill. Rick stands poised to dash across the busy road, waiting for a large truck to pass.
Now! He runs across one lane, pauses—standing erect, on his toes in-between lanes—as a maglev cart cruises past in the second lane. He dashes across the second lane and into the third lane behind a brown shirt on a Maggie. Rick’s startles the brown shirt and the Maggie almost hits a cart.
One more lane to cross. A cart is approaching fast. Rick darts across the lane ahead of the cart as it whizzes past. The right front bumper of the cart hits his hip. The impact sends him spinning through the air. He lands on the cold hard tiles, rolling to a stop at the base of a steel bollard—a yellow-painted, steel pole used for collision protection, installed at corners of corridors. His right leg hurts. He sits on the cold floor examining his injury. He tore his slacks and scraped his leg, but there isn’t much blood. No broken bones, but he’ll have a nice bruise.
He pushes himself to his feet and moves into the dark maintenance hallway. The floor is cement; no cold orange tiles. He checks the doors of locked rooms as he limps down the hallway. Rick is sore and exhausted. His existence since he left home is a confused blur. Has he been in the city for a few hours, or has it been days?
Sliding to the floor, he attempts to gather his thoughts. He needs to get his bearings, so he can find the Surface Integration room and the Rail Station. His thoughts wander to home. The kids. Courtney. His grant. An asteroid storm is coming. Rick drifts to sleep.
“Hey, jerk wad.” Karl kicks Rick’s foot. “Wake up, dickhead,” Karl says as he leans down, slapping Rick upside the head. Rick wakes from a deep sleep. He looks around unsure of where he is. “Rick, wake up.”
Rick looks up to see the face of his friend. It occurs to him this might be the first time Karl has addressed him with his real name. Rick looks up at Karl with a dopey smile. Rick has never seen Karl concerned about anyone but himself. Karl is a self-assured, well-educated, self-affirmed, know-it-all, who is undeterred from whatever mission or purpose he aims. Taking an interest in another person’s plight is not a trait people would associate with Karl.
Rick surveys the face of his friend with glassy eyes of half awareness. Karl looks older than his years. He has creases around his eyes. His face looks drawn, haggard. He still has the same Karl unkempt hair and scraggly three-day beard, now with a touch of gray, and he wears the ever-present suit jacket.
Karl can see Rick is slow to wake. “Are you OK?”
Rick scoots up to sit taller against the wall. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“What the hell are you doing in here, ass wipe?” Karl asks in the friendliest way.
Rick isn’t sure he can trust Karl. They were friends in college, but Karl works with these people. Rick is considering whether to tell Karl his plan to get to the Rail Station when Karl speaks.
“If you want to get home, you’re going the wrong way, buddy.” Karl’s statement stuns Rick. He has never heard a simple, considerate sounding sentence from his friend.
“Yeah, I got lost in these hallways. How did you find me?” Rick asks cautiously to see if Karl is sincere.
Karl pulls a tiny dot from under the collar of Rick’s tunic. “I put a tracker on you, dimwit. How else could I find you? Can’t let you wander around the city like a drunken puppy. The Black Guard will catch you and you’ll never get out of here. You need to get your ass to the Rail Station and hop the speed rail to L.A., I mean Edendale before anyone knows you’re gone. Fucking moron. How hard is that?”
Rick beams. He holds his arm out. “They took my band.” Rick taps his naked forearm. “City map won't load. I can’t call, stream, or project a page.” Rick chuckles, poking at his bare arm.
“Hey, you, silly bitch. You know you’re on city atmosphere, right? Don’t you feel it? The Delirium?”
“Delirium. What’s Delirium?”
“Sodium Psychochloroldexahydrite or something. I don’t remember the exact name. They call it the atmosphere. I call it Delirium. We put in the air to help with circadian rhythm problems. Since you can’t tell day from the night in this place, it messes up your biological clock. Some people can’t sleep, while others are fine until one day, they can’t take it and crack up. Next thing, you see them curled up in the fetal position crying or worse, they go completely mad. Atmosphere was supposed to be the cure. We pumped the gas into the city, but it didn’t work. We didn’t know what to do. The entire project would fail if team members are at risk of going crazy. But it all changed one day when a much higher dose got pumped into the city by accident. In minutes, the city changed. The air felt clean and clear. Everyone was happy. No more problems. No more depression or craziness. People under the effects of Delirium are peaceful and happy. It dampens other emotions, but helps people focus on work. A little extra gas and ta-da, it’s fucking peace and quiet in New Arcadia. That’s the way the colonel likes it. Delirium makes people content and compliant. Utopia!” Karl explains. Rick nods slow acknowledgment.
Karl reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small metal tube. “No worries, I’ve got the cure!” His eyes twinkle as he lifts the tube to his mouth, sucking lightly.
Rick reacts. “You have a pipe! Smoking is illegal.”
Karl hands the pipe to Rick. “It’s been illegal for a decade. So, what? Do you want to wander around the city all gooney eyed, or do you want to get home, fart-face?”
Rick takes the pipe from Karl, takes a long deep draw, and coughs.
“Careful there, hophead. That’s almost pure nicotine. It can be harsh. Luckily, something as simple as nicotine counteracts Delirium. The Black Guard use D-Nox rings for the same reason. Nose rings aren’t my style.” Rick hands the pipe to his friend, but Karl pushes it away. “You keep it. You’ll need it until you get topside.”
Once again, it’s as if a sheer fabric that was fogging his view lifts from his head. He takes a short draw on the pipe, then puts it in his pocket and nods to Karl. “Thanks.” Karl nods back.
Karl leans against the wall and slides down next to Rick, then removes his band and hands it to Rick. “Here, asshole. You stole my band.” Rick laughs, taking the band.
“It won’t react to your voice, but it will get you access to the Rail Station.”
“Great! I can use the city map and walk.” Rick uses the band to display the city map.
“Why use the map when a Maggie can take you?” Rick gives Karl a strange look. Karl yells, “Maggot!” Nothing happens. Rick is impatient and starts to skootch up the wall to stand. “I can use the map and walk to the Rail Station.” Karl lifts his hand to stop Rick, “Patience.” After a few moments, Karl points to the end of the tunnel. “Look, it’s here.”
A Maggie, painted white with a red racing stripe appears, floating in the corridor at the end of the hallway. Karl helps Rick stand and they walk to the Maggie. Karl points at a small control panel at the front of the Maggie, between the footholds.
“It’s unregistered. Touch this button to code your voice and you’ll have control of this Maggot to go anywhere in the city,” Karl instructs without touching the button.
Rick presses the button and the machine control responds, “Maglev... logging. Training voice for control. Speak after the tone.”
Rick speaks. “Maglev, Maggie, this is the voice for control. Slow, Left, Right, Fast, Map, Stop.” Rick speaks the words he expects to use. The Maggie makes a ready tone. Rick steps up on the Maggie, placing his feet in the footholds. The Maggie rocks for a moment before stabilizing.
Karl grabs Rick’s arm looking at him with a brooding face. “The Colonel sent me to bring you back. Too bad, you fought back, stole my band and got away.”
“Thanks, Karl. You’re a true friend.”
Karl takes a step back and wipes an eye. “Well, what are you waiting for, idiot? You have a family to save. Don’t make me remind you I saw Courtney first. Get moving, numb-nuts.”
“Don’t you want to come with me? You can get out of this place and away from the colonel. I have a safe place back home. You don’t have to stay.”
“Nah, I made my choices. I’ll pay my price. You followed the rules and your heart. You deserve everything; the beautiful wife, kids, and the house with the picket fence. If I can do one good thing, it’s helping you get back to your life. Now, get away from me jerk-wad. Vamoose!”
Rick stands steady and erect on the Maggie, then barks a command. “Maggie, go to Surface Integration Storage.” Rick waves at Karl as he speeds down the busy corridor.
Karl is in shock. No one has ever called him a true friend. He stands at the end of the hallway, at the edge of the busy four-lane corridor. Carts and levitating truck’s speed past.
“Well, I’d better make this look good,” Karl says, as he steps calmly into the main corridor. “Oops,” he utters, just before a speeding truck smashes into him.
