New Earth City, 23 July Entry 4

Ever since we got here, we've been subjected to bizarrely hot conditions. One of the selling points of New Earth City for most tourists is the environmental simulation system--the ESS. It simulates the weather back on Earth. The one question any aware person dare not ask is: "Who remembers what the weather was like back on Earth?"

No kidding.

The unenjoyable part here is that the system is malfunctioning, dramatically. It's July, so the system is supposed to simulate a beautiful summer. Instead, it's been simulating a horribly hot summer. It's been practically nuclear--in the high thirties. Of course, you know what happens when it gets hot, everyone's energy taxes go up because we're all trying to cool our homes down. Our apartment drops down to the mid twenties only after several hours of using our air cooler. Isn't that just funny? A system designed to give us the best of the late Earth and it gives us the worst. What's next? An ice age?

I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. I stayed inside today contrary to what I said I'd do in yesterday's entry. It was just too hot out and I have a mini-sized air cooler that sits on my desk. It's perfect. Then I checked the infeed and saw reports that engineers were raising the humidity on the station to force condensation to form, then evaporate again, using up heat and then cooling the place down.

As usual, I was not sure such a plan would work.

However, there's not much for a regular person to do. Complaining to authorities would only encourage funny looks and accusations of being smart. So, I just write about it here and hope someone is reading.

Sure enough, the plan didn't go like the reports on the infeed said it would. Mostly the media doesn't leave stories like this on the servers, but I saw the report an hour ago, still claiming that no one should be alarmed by sudden wetness around the city.

Sudden wetness.

Stupidly, when I first read the report, I waited for the wetness to appear. There's a tree outside our apartment window that I kept glancing at to see if any wetness appeared, but all day long I saw nothing. I kept the windows closed as I'm pretty sure electronics don't get along well with water. Though I've never confirmed such an old wives tale.

As it turned out, I wouldn't have to.

After hours of waiting for something to happen, I got up and went for a walk. It was only slightly cooler outside according to the ESS infeed, but it felt hotter thanks to the humidity. I got about a half-kilometer from home when I stopped walking. It was late, maybe 20:30 or so and I looked up, expecting to see the stars that I normally see when I look through the dome that encloses the underside. What I saw wasn't stars--but a strange sort of smoke.

I have no idea how high up it was at first. Maybe a few thousand meters? I walked a little further past a cute little park near us and looked up again. The smoke was thicker and lower now. Understandably, I got a little nervous and started back home.

I withdrew my smartBox from my pocket. Immediately, I looked up information on "smoke in the sky". The infeed that came back was what I'd expected. I was familiar with old stories told to me by my parents about fires set back on Earth. They would create smoke and you could see it rise. This was something different.

I kept scrolling through the data. The next entry referred to clouds. No, these were not clouds. The simulated clouds we see every day are thin and white. This smoke was dark gray.

As I walked faster, I tried to keep reading, but it was just too hard to follow the information. When I reached the crosswalk, I looked at my smartBox again and saw another entry. It referred to harsh weather patterns back on Earth that were called storms. Then I remembered my grandfather showing me old picture stories from Earth that showed people with these dark clouds over their heads.

Was I looking at a storm cloud?

I looked up at the sky as I approached the building my home is in. Suddenly, my smartBox squeaked. I looked down and saw it change shape into the face of my wife.

"Honey, where are you? Do you know what's going on? What's that smoke outside?"

"I think I know, honey, I'll be inside in a moment."

I looked back at the sky and suddenly felt wetness on my face. Though it wasn't condensation--well, not as such. It was falling on my face, from the storm cloud. It was an amazing feeling. It made me want to stay outside.

Then I heard a thundering crash which was immediately followed by a flash of light (or maybe it was the other way around, I can't remember). I looked down the street and beyond the tops of my building and the buildings nearby I saw massive flashes of light.

It was the water hitting electronic components throughout the underside of the city. I wondered if the topside was experiencing this, too.

I moved inside, quickly.

"I knew this would happen," I said.

"You did? How?" my wife asked.

"Honey, everyone knows that water will harm electronics."

"Well... Is that what's happening? But where is the water falling from?"

"It's an ancient weather pattern called a storm. Like a solar storm only with the air we breathe, I think."

"Don't be aware, Jim!"

"Ande, please. I just checked the infeed on the smartBox and it told me."

She gave me an uncertain look and then turned back to the view from our window. More explosions threw light across these "clouds". Now the thunderous crashes seemed right on top of the actual explosions of light from the topfloors of the buildings.

"Are they coming toward us?" my wife asked understandably concerned. I looked out the window again and could immediately see an explosion of light that was closer than the one before it. She didn't wait for me to respond. "I think they are, Jim! What do we do?"

"I don't know, honey." I took Ande in my arms and held her to me as the explosions grew closer and closer. The water seemed to be falling harder now, as well.

"Look!" my wife said, pointing at a building we could both see through the window. All of the lights in the building were out.

"It's blocking the energy from reaching the buildings!" Ande said aloud, immediately looking embarrassed.

"It's OK, honey, you may be right." Just then I saw the next building closer to us lose its lighting, too.

"We may be next," I said immediately feeling Ande's embrace tighten. I looked down at her and said "It'll be all right."

Then, the lights went out.

One of us let out a soft yelp, but in all honesty, I don't know which of us it was.

Without thinking, I withdrew my smartBox once again and fashioned it into a light ball for the most even spread of light possible. The room was filled by a soft glow. Immediately, Ande's tense face relaxed. Soon, so had her embrace.

"Where's your smartBox?" I asked watching her move away from me toward the couch.

"I... I don't know."

"Did you lose it?"

"No, no."

"Did you check in your bag?"

"No, I didn't, but it's OK, we can see with yours," she said, adding. "But what will we do?"

I hesitated. Usually we watch the reports on the infeed at this time of night. Or maybe the picture stories--but without power, all we could do was use my wife's smartBox for media consumption. "Let's watch something on your smartBox."

"Oh, OK." She found her bag and withdrew her smartBox from it. She tried to reach the infeed tree outside, but it just sat there and bricked. "It's not working."

"No energy to the infeed trees in the area," I surmised aloud.

"What are we going to do, Jim?"

I decided that she might still be a little shaken from the "storm" that was still going on outside, so I suggested she just go to bed.

"I'll stay up in case energy authorities need any help."

"Help?"

"Yeah, I was going to go up to the topfloor to see if our building was being fixed. You know, for work. I need to report on something--you know, writing samples?"

"Oh, honey--can't you just stay inside? I'd feel safer."

"OK," I said, understanding her concerns. I wasn't sure what kind of mess I'd find on the topfloor. Those explosions seemed huge.

Ande went to bed and I sat down to write this.

As I sit here now, I'm feeling the odd urge to go up there regardless.

-Jim