nearby dome, and groped my way through a
door, then along a corridor to the changing room where I’d left my clothes.
“How stupid do
you have to be to cut hovers while the thrusters are still active on minimum?”
Gradin’s voice
followed me, shouting at me through the suit comms system. I was too numb with
shock to think of turning off the comms, so the tirade only stopped when I took
off my suit. I dragged my clothes on, returned the suit to the correct rack in the
store room, then headed for the portals in the reception area. The woman behind
the desk said something to me as I went by, but I didn’t turn my head to look
at her, just dialled America Transit 1 and stepped through the portal.
About five
seconds after I arrived in the Transit, I heard a soft chime. I reached for my
lookup and glanced at it, but the display was blurred and unreadable. I blinked
the tears out of my eyes and it abruptly came into focus. Gradin was calling me!
I hesitated, rubbed
the back of my hand across my face, and answered the call, speaking in a rush
before he could throw any more insults at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll never set foot
in a plane again.”
He started to say
something, but I ended the call and walked on towards the inter-continental
portals. My lookup gave another chime and I saw it was Gradin calling me again.
Nuke him! I’d told him I’d never set foot in a plane again, what more did he
want?
I rejected the
call, glanced at the overhead signs, and went to join the queue of people for an
inter-continental portal that was locked open to Europe. As the queue shuffled
forward, my lookup wailed for attention yet again, this time with the louder
sound of an emergency call. I could see people turning to stare at me. Why
couldn’t Gradin leave me alone?
I rejected the
emergency call, set my lookup to automatically block any future calls from
Gradin, and was left in peace as I walked through the portal. The signs told me
I was in Europe Transit 4 now, and I headed for the local portals. I was dialling
the code for my Next Step, when my lookup made a squawking noise I’d never
heard before, and flashed up a holo of a man in uniform. I gaped at him, open-mouthed.
“Jarra Reeath,”
he said. “We’ve had a report stating you’re rejecting emergency calls, and registering
concern for your welfare.”
Pure anger
helped me pull myself together and speak in an icily calm voice. “If you check
my travel record, you’ll see I’ve just been through several portals in rapid
succession so emergency calls may have failed to reach me. If whoever called
you had any sense they’d have realized I was portalling, waited a few minutes,
and tried again before bothering you.”
The man seemed
to glance down at something. “Your travel record confirms recent portal
transfers. I apologize for disturbing you.”
My lookup screen
went blank, and I went over to a quiet corner and called Gradin. The second he
answered, I screamed at him. “How dare you set the police on me?”
He laughed. “How
dare you crash my plane and run away without making a statement for my accident
report?”
“You told them
you were concerned for my welfare! You could have got me sent to Correctional
for psychological treatment!”
He shrugged. “I’m
sorry, but I was genuinely worried you might do something drastic. I saw the
surveillance vid of you going through reception, and the look on your face …
I’m not a nice man, Jarra, but I’m not actively evil. I instinctively yelled at
you when you crashed my plane, but I wasn’t trying to destroy you.”
My head started replaying
the humiliating moment when I crashed the plane. The crunch, the scraping
sound, the … I fought off the ghastly memory, and took refuge in my anger at
Gradin contacting the police. Being angry was good. Being angry blocked the
pain. Being angry kept my voice from shaking.
“You’ve spoken
to me now, so you know I’m fine. If you need me to make a statement about
door, then along a corridor to the changing room where I’d left my clothes.
“How stupid do
you have to be to cut hovers while the thrusters are still active on minimum?”
Gradin’s voice
followed me, shouting at me through the suit comms system. I was too numb with
shock to think of turning off the comms, so the tirade only stopped when I took
off my suit. I dragged my clothes on, returned the suit to the correct rack in the
store room, then headed for the portals in the reception area. The woman behind
the desk said something to me as I went by, but I didn’t turn my head to look
at her, just dialled America Transit 1 and stepped through the portal.
About five
seconds after I arrived in the Transit, I heard a soft chime. I reached for my
lookup and glanced at it, but the display was blurred and unreadable. I blinked
the tears out of my eyes and it abruptly came into focus. Gradin was calling me!
I hesitated, rubbed
the back of my hand across my face, and answered the call, speaking in a rush
before he could throw any more insults at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll never set foot
in a plane again.”
He started to say
something, but I ended the call and walked on towards the inter-continental
portals. My lookup gave another chime and I saw it was Gradin calling me again.
Nuke him! I’d told him I’d never set foot in a plane again, what more did he
want?
I rejected the
call, glanced at the overhead signs, and went to join the queue of people for an
inter-continental portal that was locked open to Europe. As the queue shuffled
forward, my lookup wailed for attention yet again, this time with the louder
sound of an emergency call. I could see people turning to stare at me. Why
couldn’t Gradin leave me alone?
I rejected the
emergency call, set my lookup to automatically block any future calls from
Gradin, and was left in peace as I walked through the portal. The signs told me
I was in Europe Transit 4 now, and I headed for the local portals. I was dialling
the code for my Next Step, when my lookup made a squawking noise I’d never
heard before, and flashed up a holo of a man in uniform. I gaped at him, open-mouthed.
“Jarra Reeath,”
he said. “We’ve had a report stating you’re rejecting emergency calls, and registering
concern for your welfare.”
Pure anger
helped me pull myself together and speak in an icily calm voice. “If you check
my travel record, you’ll see I’ve just been through several portals in rapid
succession so emergency calls may have failed to reach me. If whoever called
you had any sense they’d have realized I was portalling, waited a few minutes,
and tried again before bothering you.”
The man seemed
to glance down at something. “Your travel record confirms recent portal
transfers. I apologize for disturbing you.”
My lookup screen
went blank, and I went over to a quiet corner and called Gradin. The second he
answered, I screamed at him. “How dare you set the police on me?”
He laughed. “How
dare you crash my plane and run away without making a statement for my accident
report?”
“You told them
you were concerned for my welfare! You could have got me sent to Correctional
for psychological treatment!”
He shrugged. “I’m
sorry, but I was genuinely worried you might do something drastic. I saw the
surveillance vid of you going through reception, and the look on your face …
I’m not a nice man, Jarra, but I’m not actively evil. I instinctively yelled at
you when you crashed my plane, but I wasn’t trying to destroy you.”
My head started replaying
the humiliating moment when I crashed the plane. The crunch, the scraping
sound, the … I fought off the ghastly memory, and took refuge in my anger at
Gradin contacting the police. Being angry was good. Being angry blocked the
pain. Being angry kept my voice from shaking.
“You’ve spoken
to me now, so you know I’m fine. If you need me to make a statement about
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