in the opposite direction, Owen could see another Bot in the distance, a single arm raised in mid-gesture like a monument to a forgotten historical figure. Its eyes were as blank as the banner screen above him.
“But this is not where I’m parked,” one member of the group of customers barked at the Bot leading him.
“For your own safety, please proceed to the nearest exit, sir.”
“The chattel leading the sheep,” the man grunted and separated from the group.
Owen sidled up closer to the college student. “What do you think happened?”
The college student looked up from the dead cellular phone in his hand, glanced one way, then the other and chortled. “Wouldn’t surprise me if we were at war with the Ruskies,” he replied with a glance back at Owen. “They’re behind all of America’s problems, y’know.”
“I thought they were our friends now.”
“What, just because President Connallysays they are?” the other snorted. “Don’t believe anything you hear from them. They’re paid to keep secrets from us.” He started off to the right. “I’m parked over on this end, so… Good luck!”
“Wait!” Owen exclaimed rushing to catch up then falling into stride with him. “My name’s Owen.” He thrust out his hand and the other stared down at it with amusement.
“Say, little guy, what’s your situation? I mean what are you doing out here by yourself after midnight?”
Owen looked him straight in the eye. “I’m homeless.”
The other studied him. “How does a kid your age end up being homeless?”
“My father’s dead and my mother don’t care about me. What’s your name?”
“Victor,” he said, pausing at a pay phone terminal where an overly made-up woman in her forties clutched her purse tightly to her chest and tried to dial out. “Phones working?” he asked her in a casual tone of voice.
Her wide eyes flittered to him anxiously, tugged her purse closer, then looked away. She hung up the phone then skittered up the corridor. Victor shrugged and checked the phone himself. With a shake of the head, he let the receiver dangle from its cord. “This is so bizarre!”
Another group of customers marched past down the opposite side of the corridor led by a red sector Bot and a uniformed security guard. The guard spotted Victor and stopped. “You there! Head for the front exit!”
Victor gave a bright smile and a wave, murmuring out of the side of his mouth. “Rented pork.”
Owen backed toward the shadows as the guard started over.
“Did you not hear me, son?” the tall beard man asked.
“My car’s parked in lot C2.”
“We’ve been directed to evacuate everyone from the building.”
“I am evacuating, sir ,” Victor sniffed contemptuously at the other. “Why does it matter which way I leave?”
“Because of safety issues.”
“What safety issues?”
“The kind that could get you good and dead! That kind of issue,” the guard said, pointing at the tail end of the large group and glaring at Victor with hard eyes. “I would appreciate it if you could just follow the rest of the group.”
Victor took a deep breath and started toward the group. When the guard started to turn away, Victor glanced back at Owen. Turning back one last time, the guard spotted Owen just as he bolted in the opposite direction.
“Hey!” the guard bellowed.
“Go, little dude,” Victor screamed at the top of his lungs. “Fight the power!”
Owen raced back down the corridor in the direction of the shuttle he’d taken from blue sector. He considered the possibility that he might have made a mistake traveling so far from the theater.
Briefly, he thought about the second group of customers that he’d seen. The Bot that had led them had been from red sector. What was a red sector Bot doing leading evacuees into the yellow sector when there were plenty of closer exits on that side?
“But this is not where I’m parked,” one member of the group of customers barked at the Bot leading him.
“For your own safety, please proceed to the nearest exit, sir.”
“The chattel leading the sheep,” the man grunted and separated from the group.
Owen sidled up closer to the college student. “What do you think happened?”
The college student looked up from the dead cellular phone in his hand, glanced one way, then the other and chortled. “Wouldn’t surprise me if we were at war with the Ruskies,” he replied with a glance back at Owen. “They’re behind all of America’s problems, y’know.”
“I thought they were our friends now.”
“What, just because President Connallysays they are?” the other snorted. “Don’t believe anything you hear from them. They’re paid to keep secrets from us.” He started off to the right. “I’m parked over on this end, so… Good luck!”
“Wait!” Owen exclaimed rushing to catch up then falling into stride with him. “My name’s Owen.” He thrust out his hand and the other stared down at it with amusement.
“Say, little guy, what’s your situation? I mean what are you doing out here by yourself after midnight?”
Owen looked him straight in the eye. “I’m homeless.”
The other studied him. “How does a kid your age end up being homeless?”
“My father’s dead and my mother don’t care about me. What’s your name?”
“Victor,” he said, pausing at a pay phone terminal where an overly made-up woman in her forties clutched her purse tightly to her chest and tried to dial out. “Phones working?” he asked her in a casual tone of voice.
Her wide eyes flittered to him anxiously, tugged her purse closer, then looked away. She hung up the phone then skittered up the corridor. Victor shrugged and checked the phone himself. With a shake of the head, he let the receiver dangle from its cord. “This is so bizarre!”
Another group of customers marched past down the opposite side of the corridor led by a red sector Bot and a uniformed security guard. The guard spotted Victor and stopped. “You there! Head for the front exit!”
Victor gave a bright smile and a wave, murmuring out of the side of his mouth. “Rented pork.”
Owen backed toward the shadows as the guard started over.
“Did you not hear me, son?” the tall beard man asked.
“My car’s parked in lot C2.”
“We’ve been directed to evacuate everyone from the building.”
“I am evacuating, sir ,” Victor sniffed contemptuously at the other. “Why does it matter which way I leave?”
“Because of safety issues.”
“What safety issues?”
“The kind that could get you good and dead! That kind of issue,” the guard said, pointing at the tail end of the large group and glaring at Victor with hard eyes. “I would appreciate it if you could just follow the rest of the group.”
Victor took a deep breath and started toward the group. When the guard started to turn away, Victor glanced back at Owen. Turning back one last time, the guard spotted Owen just as he bolted in the opposite direction.
“Hey!” the guard bellowed.
“Go, little dude,” Victor screamed at the top of his lungs. “Fight the power!”
Owen raced back down the corridor in the direction of the shuttle he’d taken from blue sector. He considered the possibility that he might have made a mistake traveling so far from the theater.
Briefly, he thought about the second group of customers that he’d seen. The Bot that had led them had been from red sector. What was a red sector Bot doing leading evacuees into the yellow sector when there were plenty of closer exits on that side?
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