BEYOND THE LOOKING-GLASS: Book One in the BEYOND Series by Gordon Rothwell Page A

you don’t have a lot to say. How come?”
    Kellen whispered back, “I learned to keep my big mouth shut. I’d advise you to do the same, friend.”
    Before the beefy ex-con could reply, the abie driver stopped his vehicle and shouted out: “Okay, everybody. We’re at the MESA. On your feet. File out quietly.”
    The grey-uniformed bus riders got to their feet and began shuffling toward the front door.
    Once assembled outside the abie, the grim-faced office workers shuffled along the cement toward a huge red-brick and tin-trimmed building. The entire area was surrounded by a high iron-mesh fence with rolls of barbed wire on top. A large painted sign hung over the building’s entranceway:
     
    M.E.S.A.
     
    Media Evaluation Services Annex
     
    As Kellen walked forward in the crowd, he could smell salt air mixed with the foul stench of dead fish and brackish backwater.
    For a moment, a series of nightmarish images flashed before his eyes. Grunting and cursing men in canvas jump suits, hip boots and gas masks churning up acid stews to recover gold from piles of salvaged green computer strips. Clouds of hydrocarbon ash shooting up into the sea air that burned your nostrils and eyes And seagulls constantly flying and screaming above the ship..
    A flock of gulls wheeled and dove in every direction above his head. Their racket snapped him out of his daydream. Those huge black clouds he’d seen earlier were rolling in toward the waterfront. It was just a matter of time until they hit landfall.
    At the opening in the fence, a guard scanned the workers’ ID chip-implants as they passed by. But when Kellen came up to the guard, he was stopped and pulled aside.
    “Just a minute,” the unsmiling guard said, peering at Kellen’s chest badge. “You know the drill, Number Four-Oh-Five. Like always, we gotta give you special treatment.
    The brass has to take special precautions with dangerous characters like you.” Several other guards nearby snickered.
    A technician in white lab jacket and yellow plastic helmet stepped up and began to run a small ekto-probe up and down Kellen’s body. Another tech opened the lunch cylinder and poked around inside.
    “Watch out for my exploding nutrient bar,” Kellen said.
    The guard was not amused. “You’d know a lot more about that stuff than I would Four-Oh-Five.” He waved his arm. “On your way, before I report you for insubordination.”
    Kellen snapped his lunch cylinder closed and walked toward the annex front entrance.
    Inside the building, Kellen saw Cardiff watching him from one of the aisles. I do remember you, Cardiff . A bully, a backstabber and a stoolie. I’m going to make sure I avoid any dark corners with you lurking about like a hungry orca.
    Before moving to his assigned cubicle, Kellen stopped at the vending machine in the worker’s lounge. He was extracting a box of gumdrops when a tall blonde-haired woman came up to him. She looked at the gumdrop box and smiled.
    “Be careful,” the woman said. “Those can give a little boy cavities.”
    Kellen looked at her. She was about his age and pretty enough. But her eyes gave her away. They were red-rimmed and dead. She had the look of defeat. Her hair was unkempt and she wore too much makeup. Her mouth was a red slash. And there were large sweat stains at the armpits of her grey uniform.
    “I’ll try to be careful,” Kellen replied. “These keep me calm when I get bored or nervous.”
    “Are you bored now?”
    “Constantly.”
    The blonde peered at the choices behind the machine’s glass front. She smiled at Kellen engagingly.
    “How about treating a lady to a pack of Chewies?”
    Kellen fished in his pocket. He brought out a coin, made his selection, and dropped his money in the slot. A pack of candy dropped noisily into the metal tray at the bottom of the machine. The blonde grabbed the box. She put the small packet up to her crimson lips and licked it. “Thanks. You can munch on my Chewies anytime you