As he stood next to the Graphie unnoticed, Ret’s heart began to slow.
From inside the vent, he heard Pete, “Whoa! Who are you?”
Ret averted his gaze from the vent and answered openly. “Like you said, Pete. I’m not from around here. Stay put. I’m going to take a look around.”
Ret checked for landmarks before moving away from the vent. He noticed racks of canvas clothing similar to what he wore lined behind a glass wall just to the left of the security Graphie. A peek over the doorway boasted a sign that read Fresnos .
Got it .
He moved toward the throng.
An endless river of human bodies rushed past Ret. He gauged the current before entering the flow, realizing he needed to time it just right or be trampled in their midst. Just like jumping into the river back home, he held his breath, launched, and became swept up in the tide.
Ret tried to examine the faces around him as he was pushed and cajoled within the stream. Most chins lay buried deep in high shirt collars, and Ret found it difficult to discern an expression.
A hum rose from the swarm, surrounding him as they traversed, and Ret’s gaze whipped side-to-side. A youngish looking man to his right appeared to be addressing him with an almost imperceptible jaw movement. Ret had to lean in close to catch what he said.
“Yeah, I’d opt for a lifetime of cyber-sleep if I had to wait that long for a Forfeiture Status.”
Who was he talking to? Cyber-sleep ? Wolf hadn’t mentioned that. Was it a way of ending his life early? And so flippantly? Ret leaned in. “Don’t do it,” he shouted.
The man shrugged Ret’s hand away, skirted sideways, and disappeared—swallowed by a new tide.
Around him, the combined voices of the moving mass buzzed like the sound of worker bees, droning in hushed conversations on hidden communication devices.
The rush of bodies bumped and careened into one another, and the itchy presence of Graphies came and went at regular intervals. The squeeze of humanity left Ret feeling more closed-in than he had in the venting. I’m drowning in a sea of bodies .
Panic pricked from his toes up his legs. He stood his full height, searching over the crowd, desperate for an out.
Sweat saturated his synthetic collar, and a thought nipped at his core.
Get back in the vent!
Get out!
Out of this twisted place.
His thoughts alarmed him as much as the pressing crowd. How could anyone survive this lifestyle? Did this voice of desperation live in the minds of the others who lived here? Then again, if they have nothing to compare it to …
“It’s called eat or be eaten. Every man for himself.” Wolf’s steely, blue eyes came to mind. Ret realized she possessed a unique strength to rise above the grumblings of this place and search for the truth. Here’s to you, Wolf. Ret silently saluted her before taking control of the tide.
He pushed to the left, perforating the space around him. He continued, pressing through the flux until he freely moved to the periphery of the crowd. A moment later, he was expelled from the throng to an open area dotted with tables and chairs.
Residents ate, drank, and tried talking over ear-splitting music. A drum pounded in his left temple in time with his heart. I need water .
Holographs shimmered everywhere, marketing shoes, a jacket, food, and entertainment. Some looked like the holographic guard he met at the vent. His eyes darted from resident to holograph, making a mental note of each man-made bench, acrylic structure, and every screened oblong opening along the walls. Just in case a quick escape was warranted .
Every couple hundred feet, Ret noticed peculiar rectangular structures with lines of people snaking around the perimeter. Ret wandered over to investigate, and as he approached, he noticed clear containers tucked under arms or by feet. Water fountains?
He hovered at the end of the line behind a young woman clutching the high-handles of a three-wheeled contraption. An infant lay swaddled
From inside the vent, he heard Pete, “Whoa! Who are you?”
Ret averted his gaze from the vent and answered openly. “Like you said, Pete. I’m not from around here. Stay put. I’m going to take a look around.”
Ret checked for landmarks before moving away from the vent. He noticed racks of canvas clothing similar to what he wore lined behind a glass wall just to the left of the security Graphie. A peek over the doorway boasted a sign that read Fresnos .
Got it .
He moved toward the throng.
An endless river of human bodies rushed past Ret. He gauged the current before entering the flow, realizing he needed to time it just right or be trampled in their midst. Just like jumping into the river back home, he held his breath, launched, and became swept up in the tide.
Ret tried to examine the faces around him as he was pushed and cajoled within the stream. Most chins lay buried deep in high shirt collars, and Ret found it difficult to discern an expression.
A hum rose from the swarm, surrounding him as they traversed, and Ret’s gaze whipped side-to-side. A youngish looking man to his right appeared to be addressing him with an almost imperceptible jaw movement. Ret had to lean in close to catch what he said.
“Yeah, I’d opt for a lifetime of cyber-sleep if I had to wait that long for a Forfeiture Status.”
Who was he talking to? Cyber-sleep ? Wolf hadn’t mentioned that. Was it a way of ending his life early? And so flippantly? Ret leaned in. “Don’t do it,” he shouted.
The man shrugged Ret’s hand away, skirted sideways, and disappeared—swallowed by a new tide.
Around him, the combined voices of the moving mass buzzed like the sound of worker bees, droning in hushed conversations on hidden communication devices.
The rush of bodies bumped and careened into one another, and the itchy presence of Graphies came and went at regular intervals. The squeeze of humanity left Ret feeling more closed-in than he had in the venting. I’m drowning in a sea of bodies .
Panic pricked from his toes up his legs. He stood his full height, searching over the crowd, desperate for an out.
Sweat saturated his synthetic collar, and a thought nipped at his core.
Get back in the vent!
Get out!
Out of this twisted place.
His thoughts alarmed him as much as the pressing crowd. How could anyone survive this lifestyle? Did this voice of desperation live in the minds of the others who lived here? Then again, if they have nothing to compare it to …
“It’s called eat or be eaten. Every man for himself.” Wolf’s steely, blue eyes came to mind. Ret realized she possessed a unique strength to rise above the grumblings of this place and search for the truth. Here’s to you, Wolf. Ret silently saluted her before taking control of the tide.
He pushed to the left, perforating the space around him. He continued, pressing through the flux until he freely moved to the periphery of the crowd. A moment later, he was expelled from the throng to an open area dotted with tables and chairs.
Residents ate, drank, and tried talking over ear-splitting music. A drum pounded in his left temple in time with his heart. I need water .
Holographs shimmered everywhere, marketing shoes, a jacket, food, and entertainment. Some looked like the holographic guard he met at the vent. His eyes darted from resident to holograph, making a mental note of each man-made bench, acrylic structure, and every screened oblong opening along the walls. Just in case a quick escape was warranted .
Every couple hundred feet, Ret noticed peculiar rectangular structures with lines of people snaking around the perimeter. Ret wandered over to investigate, and as he approached, he noticed clear containers tucked under arms or by feet. Water fountains?
He hovered at the end of the line behind a young woman clutching the high-handles of a three-wheeled contraption. An infant lay swaddled
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