An Obsidian Sky (18 page)
In amongst the
green glimmer and off-white beams, Aeniah broadcast her voice loud
and true. ‘We have faced many evils and fought off great
adversaries. In the process we have lost almost the entirety of our
team. But in the face of adversity we have prevailed. Ladies and
gentlemen, we might even be winning. This station marks one of the
many times in which humanity has made a catastrophic error of
judgment.
‘Today,’ she
paused and said with humour, ‘or more likely this week, we are
going to put it right. Now for the love of God, I will have no
panicking or going insane. There are too few of us for the luxuries
of senility. So now when I give a command I expect you to follow it
to the letter, and not go around carving each other up. Finally my
illustrious friends, move out!’ I sighed. It seemed some things
never changed.
We were
travelling down a poorly lit concourse on the way to the Commercial
District. Our journey from the docks had been a silent one, though
it had been occasionally broken by Sean’s exciting description of
what we could expect to find upon arrival. He was busy humming now
whilst floating childishly above us. I largely remembered what he
had said. That it was truly a monument to capitalist success. That
it was the second largest part of the station, beaten only by the
Centre for Administration which, due to the top heavy nature of the
United World, was supposed to be unsurprising.
The concourse
had soon gone from empire-of-the-state to
hegemony-of-the-commercial. Every few yards there were wall mounted
screens each bearing a new video advert. The adverts activated as
we passed them and the sound coming from them had made us all jump
the first couple of times. If I was honest, I jumped every time.
Despite this I was gradually calming myself down and starting to
pay attention to the advertisements around me. It was amazing how
much you could learn about a civilisation through what it
bought.
On the surface
these adverts seemed to be run of the mill. There were adverts for
fragrances, beauty and food. It was only once I paid a little more
attention to the words that I realised the true nature of these
adverts. They were a revolution in thinking. The first one that I
really
noticed was an advert for a fragrance. A beautiful,
tanned and blonde woman was being filmed in a provocative manner
from a rolling camera angle. But it was the words which were
different. The narrator voiced in the background, ‘Prepare for an
evolution in scent,’ her voice was deep and seductive. ‘Be
beautiful everyday.’
The voice that
dripped like honey continued, ‘get the new genetic fragrance from
Ar’nesh. Available from your local medicare clinic.’
Another advert
poised in a slightly less serious manner featured an overwhelmed
looking man. A sympathetic narrator asked his dishevelled
companion, ‘are you over worked, overloaded, maxed out? Do you find
it hard to get through the daily grind?’ He paused long enough for
his client to nod and the continued, ‘well now, there is a
solution. Ascension Working Innovations brings you a new level of
reality. A condensed, fully augmented, Immersive Virtual
connection. Literally see your data. Interface with your
surroundings just by being there. The new Armarge Core transfers
the data straight into your temporal lobes and uses your visual
centres to show you the data you really need. Say goodbye to your
touch-pad, embrace your future.’
At the next
wall screen a more sinister advert played. Set in the forefront of
a blue hallucinogenic background stood a grey haired man. Instantly
it was obvious that he was a man of power. I recognised him from
one of the visions.
‘Ladies and
Gentlemen, over the last few years I have been telling you about
the dream of Ascension. It was just two years ago that we got a
hold of that dream, that we embraced our infinite capacity for
power. Now each and every one of you can touch the Promethean
Layer, can hold a little part of the face of God. Our Infinite
Longevity project has given each and every one of us the ability to
live longer than we can even imagine.’ He paused and breathed
deeply.
‘But now,
ladies and gentlemen, our allocation of the Promethean Layer is
running out. Today many of you live in fear of tomorrow. But I have
brought you your salvation. In this hour I will give you the next
stage in our genetic revolution. From now on you need never fear a
loss in our services. You need never fear the loss of perfection.’
He paused again creating a dramatic rise in tension.
‘Today I give
you The Eye of Orion. A device that allows unlimited access to the
Promethean Layer. Tomorrow, as ever, I give you Ascension.’ The
screen faded to black. Text washed up onto the screen which stated
‘embrace the genetic revolution.’
Aeniah growled
like an animal each time one of the adverts played. It had been
some time now and it still seemed as if she would not accept that
these adverts were inevitably going to be played. As if she
expected the next to be the last. But still the concourse arched
onwards and still the adverts played.
‘Sean,’ she
shouted. ‘Is there any way of shutting these things down? If the
citizens are waiting for us this is going to give away our position
like an explosive charge.’
Sean paused
his humming. ‘Perhaps there is a way. The adverts are a peripheral
function of Ascension’s systems, they will not be heavily
protected. There is a power distributer ahead. I would simply
suggest removing the access panel and shooting it. This will power
off only the screens as the lights are classed as a critical system
and so are heavily protected and multiply redundant.’
Aeniah
practically ran at the distributer. She tore off the panel with
inhuman strength borne out of anger. She raised her small pistol
and a high pitch whine could be heard as it powered up some
tremendous charge. She fired the pistol. The small distributer blew
apart. The screens made a popping sound and turned off. The lights,
true to Sean’s prediction, remained on.
Without the
distraction of the adverts I was able to admire the level of detail
that the designers of Ascension had gone to. This concourse was not
even a main route into the Commercial District and yet it was
furnished with an opulence that could scarcely have been described.
The walls for example were a black matt metal, but they had been
finished with a layer of clear glossy ceramic. This gave off a
shine that was simply unbelievable. Curved chrome lamps, like
double swords, shone a flickering blue across the glossy material.
Recessions in the walls contained floodlit waterfalls or sculptures
that had holos of water or nature flashing upon them, bouncing off
them, flying into them. The concourse was divided by a silver and
glass, waist high partition. The high curved roof was also lit from
behind in an array of colours, all of which shifted and morphed
along its decadently patterned surfaces. Much like everything in
Ascension a simple concourse was huge in composition. It could have
fit a hundred of us in breadth alone. I looked to my feet and saw
to my surprise a patterned marble floor. The station was truly a
wonder.
‘So how much
farther is it?’ I asked.
‘The
Commercial District is still a considerable distance from here. It
appears that Blue Dawn’s time projection may be a little
optimistic,’ Sean replied levelly. He resumed his humming with his
usual amiability.
Aeniah seemed
impatient, she began to hammer her pistol against her thighs as she
walked, each of her fingers rolled in between each loud slap.
Finally she broke her silence. ‘So I don’t suppose that there is
any other way of getting there a little faster?’
Sean flew
ahead of her, spun to face her, and flew backwards at her walking
pace. He started humming in a monotone and then after just a moment
he replied, ‘there is no faster way to get to the Centre for
Administration without using the highway system. The closest access
to which is in the Commercial District. The docks were deliberately
kept separate from the main transport hubs in case of an invasion.
The route is deliberately designed to be a great length from the
dock and is highly defensible due to its narrow confines, as are
the science wards and the detention facilities. However there may
be a faster way of reaching the Commercial District from here.
Whilst the high-speed lev-rail networks and other primary transport
infrastructure is too heavily damaged for use, there may still be
local interlink trams that can be used. I am only suggesting this
as a possibility because this concourse has received little, if
any, damage. The interlink runs in parallel to this concourse and
the nearest station is coming up on our left. In one hundred and
fifty meters there should be a sign which has a symbol depicting a
square with three arrows running through it. There no guarantees
that the tram will be in working order.’
‘Well that’s
good enough for me. Alright people keep the pace up. With me now!
Everybody cover the intersection, you know what to do.’ Without
even finishing her final word she took off at a sprint. After a
moment of pause we all began to run together. Each of our paces was
completely in sync. The entire concourse thudded to the metrical
rhythm of our boots. If anything was waiting for us round that
corner I was sure that they would know that we were coming.
We were
approaching the sign; it had only just become visible. The sign
dimmed and shone as the bright yellow arrows intersected the
rectangular symbol. The corner appeared darker than the rest of the
well lit concourse, but I was sure that it was just my imagination.
Aeniah showed no signs of slowing and our feet banged mercilessly
upon the floor. Suddenly I saw Aeniah dive, she rotated in mid-air
and landed on her knees facing the direction of the interlink, her
gun was at the ready. I moved in behind her, a moment later, with
my breathe held. The rest of our unlikely group fell in around us.
We did not breathe as each of our devices switched to night vision
or began to illuminate the darkness ahead.
There was
nothing to see but the flickering of lights which were activating
in anticipation of our arrival. Crouching low to the ground we
stepped slowly into the ever brightening walkway. The walkway had
an arched ceiling. It was not as wide as the concourse but it was
certainly wide enough. Here there were no adverts. It seemed as
though this was not the primary way by which to get to the
interlink. Ahead a tall pillar flashed on. It came to life with a
musical little number. Above its cylindrical body there was a
floating holo stating
information directory
. We passed it
with little concern.
The interlink
could not have been far away. I was not sure how distance used to
be measured but the numerals on the roof of the walkway were
gradually counting down. It had moved from two symbols side by side
to one. If my estimation of United World numeracy was correct there
were only five more digits before we arrived. And just then I saw
the characteristic change in the shade of colour that indicated a
new place. If this walkway was coloured with a cream marble then
the room ahead, whatever it may be, was certainly a very sooty
grey.
I could see it
now. The tension was visible among my companions. In truth I felt
it too. The shaky way they walked, almost mechanically, gave away
their true feelings. Even Aeniah seemed coiled like a viper
awaiting some unknown threat. It was what we could see before us
that was causing all the tension. We were but meters away, and yet
even from this distance it was obvious that all was not well ahead.
Abigail, the most obviously nervous of the group, made a motion as
if to ask to turn back. But we all ignored her, the concourse was
going to take too long, and if we needed to fight we may be too
tired after a journey of that length.
We had made it
to the opening of the interlink station. There were torn off
screens everywhere. Everything had that burnt peeling look that was
so distinctive of Ascension. My lancer swiped to thermal, but there
was nothing there. Aeniah stepped over the threshold. I covered her
as she entered and then slipped in behind her. Without the
interference of the light of the walkway the innards of the station
were much clearer.
The first
thing to note is that in fact there was some light. Amongst the
huge columns that supposedly held up the roof, were clusters of
bulbs. This light was dim and appeared more for decoration than for
purpose. It appeared that Carvelle had gone for an age-gone-by
aesthetic to the place. There was actual paint covering the walls.
I knew this because it had peeled dreadfully under the heat of the
weapons exchange that had brought Ascension to its knees. To me
Ascension seemed like a living monument to the depths that humanity
could sink. On the one hand it still held the seductive promise of
becoming a God, but on the other it showed, in each of its isolated
pockets, what we would inevitably use this power for.
Amongst the
clutter of the station, its overturned stands and broken
architecture, was the tram. Incredibly it still remained attached
to its overhead tracks. I noticed that although it was badly burnt
and in need of restoration it appeared to be usable. The tram was
constructed in an old fashioned style. It had none of the neat
lines and sleek curvature of the rest of Ascension. It was
decorated with gold filigree which created an opulent vibe. The
paint was green and there was real glass functioning as windows.
This was much in contrast with the perfectly transparent membranes
that usually covered Ascension. I knew it was real glass because it
was dirty. Membranes were self cleaning.