TheFirstDrafts

New Earth City, 10 January

2009-01-14T01:07:00.001-08:00

The next few days were quiet. The quiet before the storm, I suppose.

I kept my eyes on the inFeeds--well, all feeds, really. Unfortunately, it looked like Cho hadn't managed to put the story in front of anyone important before he died. The thing that still nags me is that the obituary had said Cho had died of a heart attack. But who has heart attacks anymore? And when I saw him, he seemed pretty healthy to me.

This is all so stupid. It's all so very stupid.

Sorry--everything was quiet until the morning of the tenth.

One-Ten.

I was woken by a voice coming from my smartBox. I didn't recognize it as I drifted away from my sleep.

I looked over to the nightstand to see the avatar of who ever was speaking--it was just a big box. No face--just a flesh-colored box with a mouth.

"It's a terrible shame, Mr. Conant."

"What's that?" I asked, my head still clouded with the night's dreams I was about to forget.

"It's a shame that because of you and what you did there will be consequences."

"Who is this?"

"I really didn't want to do it, but you've made me, Mr. Conant. It's your fault. Not mine."

"What are you talking about? Who is this?"

Suddenly, the avatar retracted back into my smartBox as though it had had the air sucked out of it.

I rolled over and as I drifted off to sleep, I decided that I was pretty sure that the voice belonged to that guy in the park the other day.

Maybe an hour or two later I began to drift awake again. This time I didn't know why I just remember seeing through my only very slightly opened eyes the blurry image of an avatar forming--this one actually looked like a face. However, I couldn't recognize it without fully opening my eyes. So, I did just that, rubbing the sleep out of them, and sat up.

I was started at the identity of the avatar. The fact that it was talking to me didn't have an impact--I was still mostly asleep.

"Who are you and why are you using that avatar?"

"Jim, that's what I'm telling you--it's me, Stanley Cho--I'm not dead. I had to disappear for a bit."

Cho's avatar seemed calm, but that can be faked easily enough.

"So, what do you want from me?"

"I've discovered something disturbing. Something... unavoidable."

"What?" I was understandably confused.

"I need you to meet me--or rather Van, I suppose, this afternoon at 1400."

"OK, where?"

"At the spaceport, just off the A-mono down by Future Park."

"Where I met with Van?"

"Yes, that nearby. Can you do it? You must be on time, now."

"Yes, of course--but why me?"

The avatar pantomimed taking a breath.

"I suppose that can't wait."

"No, it can't. I won't go unless you tell me."

"It's because it's your fault."

His words hung in the space between my head and the smartBox for a long moment.

"Jim?"

"What is my fault?"

"Just come down to the spaceport by 1400. It'll be crazy, lots of people and chaos, so be aware."

I smiled. "Usually, we're told not to do that."

"I know. There was a time when being aware was a good thing."

"All right. I'll be there."

I wasn't sure what made me want to go. I suppose my journalist's instinct could smell a story. I just wish that it could have smelled the part that was inedible.

After Cho's avatar disappeared I made sure to bathe quickly and get on the A-mono as soon as I could.

I got there a full hour before I was supposed to meet him so I walked around. The regular business of the area had full returned now that Holiday had been over for more than a few days. I tried to reenact the events of the days earlier. I stood on the spot where I confronted the mysterious man. I eyed the same rolling bumps that made Future Park so interesting. I looked back at the ground the strange man must have been standing on.

I wondered what he had meant. Consequences.

I glanced up and saw a transport ship coming in from the West Quad. It looked beautiful against the sun. I'd seen a thousand of those transports come in to dock at the spaceport as a kid. In all these years, they hadn't altered a single thing about the way that flight in from the West Quad worked. Same flight plan, same speed, I could even predict right where the transport ship would slow down on it's approach to the airlock.

This time I watched, mildly perplexed as the transport, capable of holding up to three-thousand, or so, passengers, failed to slow down to make its approach.

In fact, I am nearly certain that it sped up as it approached.

But it didn't stop...

It smashed into the spaceport and sent a fireball into the park that engulfed nearly everyone I could see. I narrowly escaped it myself.

Debris flew everywhere.

Metal, plastic, bodies...

...

Just then I felt a hand grab my upper arm.

"Thank god you're early!"

I looked over and saw the old-man face of Van Bush.

"Come on! We've got to take advantage of this chaos and get out of here!"

I was in a daze. I just did what he told me.

Before I knew it we were moving through a tunnel someplace. I'm not sure how we got there. I guessed it was a maintenance tunnel for the mono, but it was so dirty and disgusting I wasn't sure. Yes, these are the things you think about while fighting back the feelings of horror.

What's worse is...

Once we got where we were going, I felt my smartBox shifting around in my pocket. I pulled it out and held it up. It formed the avatar of my father-in-law.

"Jim, I'm afraid I've... uh... I've got some horrible news."

I was silent. He went on.

"Ande... she, uh, she wanted to surprise you..."

My chest tightened--it's tightening again.

Writing this was supposed to be therapy.

It's not working...

New Earth City: 5 January

2009-01-10T02:18:00.000-08:00

"I'm here to see a man called Cho." I said to the receptionist at the offices of truthFeed. I sounded like I was asking permission to see him.

"Are you?" she asked, challenging me. She was young and had an attitude.

"Yes. I am," I said trying to sound like I was talking down to her.

"You are?"

Why do people have to do this sort of thing?

I took a breath and then nodded toward the door that I assumed led to the room where the journalists had their cubicles. "Is it this way, then?"

"Uh, sir, I can't let you in there," she said, jumping in between me and the door behind her desk.

"Well, then tell Cho to come and get me. It's urgent." I was a decometer away from her face.

She looked over to the display on her desk. I did the same and saw a contact window appear. It had a picture of a man and his name "Stanley Cho" in big letters. Looking back at her, I saw her wink with her right eye and then a double-wink. On the display, a message appeared "connecting."

Her display had been calibrated to her eyes. It was expensive technology, but what I'd expect from a mainstream inFeed like TF.

"Stan, there's a guy here for you." She was quiet as (I assume) Cho replied to her question. "He says it's urgent."

"Tell him Van Bush sent me."

"He says Van Bush sent him."

She looked startled for a brief moment and then stepped away from the door. "Go ahead--he's in the corner office."

I opened the door and entered.

Inside, it was quite hectic--journalists were everywhere, talking about stories they were working on. It was pretty exciting. I wondered what would end up in the eleven o'clock feeds that night that I was hearing about right then.

Before I even reached Cho's office I realized I had no idea what any of them were talking about because the noise just made it too hard to concentrate. I wondered how anyone was supposed to work with all that noise.

I spotted the door to Cho's office. His name and picture were next to it. Just as I was about to knock, the door slid open and Cho exited.

"You Van's friend?"

"Uhh," I didn't have time to qualify, so I just said: "yes!"

He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

"Come on--we can't talk here. Don't say anything--anything at all until I tell you it's safe!"

Before I knew it we were outside the offices of truthFeed and in the elevator, heading down to the ground.

I glanced around the elevator nervously, not sure how to behave. I took a breath, as though I was ready to speak but didn't as I saw Cho shake his head at me.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when."

I watched as the elevator floor number dropped lower and lower. Finally, we dropped below the ground floor. The numbers disappeared and were replaced with a grocery market logo which announced "Food Experience."

"We're going grocery shopping?" I asked.

Cho smiled. "I grew up on the Far Eastern Quad--food is very important to us."

I nodded, familiar with the stereotype. The elevator doors opened and Cho passed me. I followed him out to see him pulling out a cart from a dispenser.

"You're joking."

"Joking? About what?"

"Mr. Cho, I just had, well, that is to say, I believe I just had my life threatened this morning and you want to go for groceries?"

"I can't work on an empty stomach. Come on."

He rolled the cart off in front of him and I followed. The midday rush had begun, though I was still surprised to see so many shoppers there on Holiday. The place was loud with activity and voices.

"Everyone's picking up last minute items for their big family-based Holiday meals," Cho said.

Of course.

He began to fill up his cart.

"Is that what you're doing?" I was understandably curious.

"Me? No. I don't have a family. I'm single, but I still like to eat well, as I said."

"Right, you're from the FEQ."

"Exactly. What about you?"

"Me? I'm from the subs." I wondered how long the pleasantries would go on for.

"Here?"

"Yeah, but I spent a lot of time in the West Quad. How about you?"

"Grew up in the West Quad, too--but down south. Parents were from the FEQ, though."

He had his cart filled up a quarter of the way already. As we rolled down the desert aisle, he finally allowed us to talk about the important stuff.

"So, what did Van tell you?"

"He said the Vidi is a surveillance system."

"A surveillance system? Is that all he said?"

"Yeah. That and something about Latin?"

"Oh... haha..."

"What does it mean?" I asked.

"Latin's an old dead language. Vidi refers to seeing things. In fact, there's something an old conquerer said: vini, vidi, vici."

"Never heard of it."

"No, you wouldn't have. No one has, but Van and me and a few other lucky people."

"What does it mean?"

"We came, we saw, we were victorious."

I nodded. "Something called 'the Vidi' would be a system of watching us, then?"

"It would seem that way."

"Well, what about hearing? Shouldn't we be someplace private?" I asked.

"We are in private. With all the background noise here, it's impossible for audio recording sensors to differentiate between us and everyone else. What the sensors do pick up, is mixed in with talk of the best tasting salad dressing."

"Ah, I see," I said. "There's something else."

"Oh yeah? Something else Van told you?"

"Well, he said I should make sure you share your byline with me."

"Ha! You're a journalist are you?"

"Worked for the feedWest for a few years--but that's not what I mean. After Van left me I was approached by another man who begged me not to come to you."

Cho looked at me for a moment and then shrugged. "Who was this man?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't say, but he promised there would be 'hell to pay.'"

"Haven't heard that phrase in a while."

"I've never heard it--what does it mean? 'Hell to pay'?"

"It means the mythical underworld where we all go to suffer an eternity of pain for our sins will be paying for whatever happens because you told me what Van told me."

"So, do you think he was serious?"

"I don't know."

"Oh! He also told me that if I told you that I should meet him at Future Park tomorrow."

"Not sure what to make of that. Tell me, Mr., uh--"

"Conant, Jim Conant."

"Mr. Contant, are you married?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you are a journalist?"

"Yes, I am."

"You should go home to your wife and forget all about this then. You've helped immeasurably. Van coming to me would have been a red flag to the powers that be. I can now investigate this further. There's no need for your wife to become endangered."

"My wife? What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Conant, by pursuing this story with me you may very well draw the attention of very powerful people. Being this kind of journalist is not the best choice for your health. Go home to your wife, Mr. Conant. I'll take care of things from here on out."

"But..."

"Seriously--just, right now, go home." He stopped rolling the cart, faced me, and gave me a look that was hard to ignore. The look told me that I was in over my head.

"All right," I said.

The next morning, I looked for his column in truthFeed. I didn't see it. Instead, I saw... his obituary.

My mind raced, but I just didn't have enough information on any of this for it to do anything but race in circles. The only thing I could think to do was go back to Future Park and see if that guy would come back.

I immediately skipped breakfast and got on the mono, back downtown. I got to Future Park around 1 in the afternoon. I waited on a park bench for about an hour before the man appeared.

"I told you I wouldn't kill you or Mr. Bush."

"Yes."

"But, Mr. Cho..."

"One reporter dying is hardly 'hell paying' or whatever it was that you said."

"No, that's true and his story might still come to light. Luckily, there's another solution in the works."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You will see, Mr. Conant." With that, he walked off in the same direction I saw Bush move off in and like the old man, this mystery fellow had the A-mono waiting for him.

I began to worry about Ande. Her plane wasn't coming in until the eleventh, two days from then. She really missed her folks so she has been spending a couple weeks there.

At least I knew she was safe and away from me.

-Jim

4 January

2009-01-09T01:43:00.000-08:00

After Emi vanished again, I decided to head home. How did she know that old man? Why did that old man want me to meet him at Future Park? What was he going to tell me about what ever theVidi was?

Obviously I couldn't know.

So, I waited for the A mono and went home.

The apartment seemed colder than usual. I suppose it always felt colder when I knew Ande wasn't around.

As I crawled into bed by myself, I realized I Emi hadn't said what time I would be meeting Bush.

I told my smartBox to wake me at 8. I decided that I'd just have to hang around the Park all day.

If I had a job, I'd feel differently, but I don't.

So, I closed my eyes.

***

I woke to the sound of Ande's voice.

"I'll be home in a few hours, honey. I love you!"

It was an old message she had sent me, letting me know she was on her way home from the market.

I turned my head to look at the smartBox that had shaped itself to look like her face. Smaller than the real thing and probably a little younger looking, but it was still her avatar.

...

Ande and I had been together for a long time--close to ten years. Even though I was used to us not always being together thanks to jobs or just long commute times (the West Quad is known for it's extreme travel-time), I always missed her just the same. I'm glad I had told my smartBox to wake me that morning with her old message.

...

At 8:15 I got out of bed, bathed and, before 9, stepped aboard the A mono back downtown. By 9:45 I was at the platform Emi had mentioned the night before. Since it was Holiday, the city was pretty dead.

Bad choice of words.

There were people around, after all--businesses were still open and people were going about their business. By midday Future Park would be mad with activity.

Future Park was built to resemble an Old Earth park--trees, grass, even a lake--all of it artificial, of course. But it's stunning--especially at midday when the shudders are open to the sun.

However, before 10 in the morning, it was quiet. As I stepped off the A mono, I could only see ten or fifteen people within the confines of the park, itself. It's small, rolling hills could have hid anyone sitting or lying down, I suppose, but it was a fairly private place to have a secret meeting.

I imagined the old man would have to get there before the crowds did in order to keep the meeting private. For all I knew he was there already.

From anywhere in the park I could easily see the platform, so I went for a walk.

As I crossed the square at the center of trees, I heard a voice.

"Glad you could make it, kid."

It was Van Bush, of course. I turned to see him approach me from the same direction I'd just come from.

"How could I not show up, Mr., uh, Bush?"

"Just call me Van. Look, kid. You're a reporter--right?"

"Uh, yes." I ignored his use of the antiquated term "reporter."

"Go to the main offices of the truthFeed. Do you know that feed?"

"Yeah, one of the biggest inFeeds there is."

"Find a reporter called Cho, Stanley Cho. Tell him the Vidi is a surveillance system. Turns out someone knows Latin in the UER government. Go figure."

"Go, what?" His slang was foreign to me.

"Just find Cho. Tell him what I just told you."

"Latin?"

"It's an old language. Doesn't matter. I have to leave now. Go to truthFeed, find Cho."

"And just tell him that the Vidi is a surveillance system? That's it?"

"That's all I know, kid! And keep it down, willya?"

"Why can't you tell him?"

"They're watching him. They won't recognize you. Take care, kid." He turned and started to walk away.

"Wait--why are you telling me to do this?" He didn't stop walking, but he did look back at me.

"You're a reporter--this'll be the biggest story you ever break--just make sure Cho shares his byline with you!"

I watched Van walk all the way back to the mono platform and then climb onto a mono that just happened to be waiting for him.

I took a deep breath as I considered what he had told me.

It would be almost no effort at all to visit this man Cho. TruthFeed is famous--every NECer knows where they're offices are--not too far from Tree Plaza. I turned to continue on to the other side of the park where the B-mono platform was. The B travels across town, right past Tree Plaza.

However, before I reached the platform, I heard another voice.

"Mr. Contant."

Instinctively I stopped and looked to see who was calling my name. "Yes?"

"Please don't talk to Mr. Cho," the man said. He wore a long overcoat that was slightly transparent, like the one Emi wore the night before, underneath which was a suit. He was around my age--a bit older--he had a bland face. I couldn't identify it if I saw it again.

"See, if you talk to Mr. Cho about what Mr. Bush told you, I'm afraid something horrible would have to happen."

"What are you talking about, Mr...?"

He didn't answer my question, but he approached me.

"Please."

"What is the big issue, here?" I asked.

"If you go to the feeds with this, something horrible will happen."

"Yes, I heard you. Are you threatening me?"

"The information you now possess has the potential to disrupt the very fabric of society."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a transport passby overhead--outside the ring, of course. It was a transport from the West Quad, dropping people off at the nearby spaceport. It looked beautiful against the sun.

"Yes, it is beautiful, isnt it?" the man said.

"Yes, it is," I said, turning away from him.

"Are you going to the feeds, Mr. Contant?"

"Of course."

"If you do, please come back to this spot tomorrow, but I beg of you, please don't. I'm not authorized to kill you and I can't kill your friend for other reasons. If you do this, there will be hell to pay."

I ignored him and kept walking.

-Jim

3 January

2009-01-08T00:53:00.001-08:00

Yes, predictably enough, she knew I'd be there. How she knew wasn't as predictable as I thought--seeing as I essentially had no idea how she did know, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

She was wearing a light, slightly see-through overcoat, showing off her business one-piece underneath. She was always dressed like the archaic "girl next door" when we were in school together. Emi always seemed more interested in being sweet than she was in sneaking around and sending strange messages. There she was looking like she was heading to a board meeting--but on Holiday Eve? Who would do business on the night the entire Ring was celebrating?

As I followed her in, I knew she couldn't be doing business--it was a museum. Perhaps she was working late? She never did mention in her messages what she was doing for work now. As I approached the ticket window just inside the door, I saw Emi vanish through a door with a sign over it that read "The Early Days."

I waved my hand at the window sensor and it chirped at me. A tinny voice told me I could enter for the next twenty-four hours as I wished.

I wasn't sure if Emi was there to see me or not at first, so I didn't try to catch up to her. To be honest, I did such a good job of this that I managed to lose her around the Edward R. Murrow statue in the "muckrakers" section. He looked like a grim fellow--if that's what journalists looked like back then, I'm glad I was born now.

As I looked away from the statue's tired-looking face, I realized Emi was nowhere to be seen. I looked toward the "Journalists of Television" section and decided she must have gone there. However, when I got there, she wasn't.

I passed through a few more sections and could see the cafeteria. I had no reason to think she was hungry, but it was as good a place as any to look. I headed in and looked around.

Some journalist. After seeing my school-age girlfriend for the first time in twenty years, I lose her in a museum.

How can I expect to hunt for a story if I can't keep an eye on my first love?

Then I realized I was in the middle of an exhibit on journalism. Perhaps I might learn something from it? Isn't that what museums used to be for?

Still... where had Emi gone?

I tried not to think about her. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't really her--it was just someone who looked like her. To be honest, since she'd contacted me, I often found myself staring hard at women I'd see on the mono or in the market because I wasn't sure if they were Emi aged twenty years older or not. People do change over time.

I found myself back at the Edward R. Murrow statue.

I read the description on the wall next to the statue softly: "Edward R. Murrow is best known for his journalism-based evening content stream entitled 'See it Now' and another, entertainment-based content stream entitled 'Person to Person.'"

I paused and wondered aloud: "That's all you have to do to get a statue?"

"Jim."

I locked-up, hearing the voice.

"I knew you'd be here. Where else would you go without your wife in town?"

I slowly managed to turn around to face the shadow from which the Emi's voice had come.

"Em?" I forced out of my mouth.

"Yes," she replied from the darkness cast behind a statue of a man called Cronkite. "but stay there."

"What?"

"Just stay there. There may be someone watching us."

"Of course, there's someone watching us, there are sensors everywhere."

"I think someone may be paying attention to us. Please--I'm just trying to help." She began to look at the displays as though she were really interested in them. I tried to play along and do my best to not look like I was talking with her.

"Help?"

"Your friend Van--he asked me to get a message to you."

"My friend?"

"He said, that he knows what the Vidi is."

"Wait--the old man from the night we were arrested?"

"Yes. He said you'd know what I was referring to."

"Well, sort of--but how do you know him?"

"I... can't... look, I shouldn't even be here. If my Mark finds out--"

"Who's Mark?"

"He might leave me."

"Oh, I know who Mark is, now."

She smiled awkwardly at me. Our eyes locked. Her black hair was longer than I remembered it from school. Her face was older, but I could still see the old Emi in there--or, I suppose, the young Emi. She looked tired--like life could have been easier. Then again, we all look that way if we live long enough.

"I'm sorry, Van says you should meet him tomorrow, by the A-mono platform at Future Park."

"OK. Emi..." I reached out to her and just as I touched her right hand with mine, she moved away.

"No."

She disappeared around a corner and when I caught up, she had vanished again.

As I stood there, staring at where she would have been if she hadn't disappeared, I felt strange. Like something just wasn't right about how she had evaded me yet again. Was she just that quick? Or am I just that slow?

2 January

2009-01-07T01:39:00.000-08:00

All right, so, I've calmed down and I'm focusing. The last I mentioned my old girl friend, Emi, was that she had cut off all contact with me--what little contact that there was. I had a very foul attitude following me around a few days after that. Being in touch with her again after so many years, as I mentioned, made me happy, but when she did what she did, it was like I had the floor drop out from underneath me. The selection was right on top of us at the time, so I was lucky--I followed it closely. There was a lot of confusing information floating around the feeds and even the inFeeds that made me concerned Rose might not make the selection.

As I read the polling numbers, I saw he was ahead, but the part of the contest that was about his class--the Thirder factor--was a wild card. So much so that it was hard for any of the people on the inFeeds to say who would win. Would people cast for the one that was like them? The average Adam? Or would they cast for the known man? Thorne has been in government his entire life--that "experience factor" was another wild card. Combine both the experience factor and the Thirder factor with the Intelligence-Compensation Algorythm (ICA) and you end up with numbers that were simply not consistent.

When I was a kid, I remember trying to really understand what the ICA was actually doing to the the final tally of cast ballots. We were told growing up that some people who are very smart can manipulate the outcome of the selection when they cast. Which I completely don't understand. How could someone manipulate the outcome just by casting? Regardless, the ICA compensates for a given percentage of people who do this. How many people do this? The UER government won't give us specific numbers since they are different in every selection. The algo, they say, can predict the number and compensate by adjusting the number of ballots cast for each man running.

I remember when I was a child, I asked my father about this--if the algorythm wasn't an algorythm, but was instead a program coded by someone who wanted one candidate to win instead of the other, how would we know?

"The government wouldn't do that," my father said.

"Why?"

"Because we're a democracy. If they did that, they'd be going against the very principles that have kept humanity alive since the old Earth days."

I looked at him for a while as I tried to decide whether I agreed with him or not. Even at nine years of age, I wondered what would stop a bad person from lying and exchanging that algo for something corrupt.

In many ways, that moment with my father pushed me toward journalism. It made me curious. I felt his story didn't quite add up. So, it stayed on my mind.

When I saw Rose win with such dramatic numbers--800,000 more ballots cast for him over his main competition--I couldn't help but wonder about that algo. In the end I decided if it would have been too obvious if it had cast that many in favor of one man. While the polls weren't completely telling, it was obvious if Thorne won, it wouldn't be by much.

So, what does this have to do with Emi?

Nothing. That's the point. By the end of the year, she was far from my mind--and so was my arrest and Van Bush and the Vidi.

As the Holiday approached, Ande decided she wanted to be with her family, back in the West Quad. We didn't have the spare credit for both of us to go, which was fine, since I was interested in spending some time getting to know New Earth City a bit more.

So, when the Holiday came, I took a mono trip down to midcentral to visit a museum which had just opened an exhibition about journalists through history. It was something I think I was inspired to do by that old man I met while I was arrested--Van Bush. The way he spoke, so quickly and with such directing questions. He seemed to know what he wanted to know even before he had answers.

He was older than anyone I know, so he was a little scary to me. I don't know why, but he seemed to haunt me like he was from an old ghost story--not that I believe in ghosts. I wondered if I might see him in some old image files.

So, on Holiday Eve, I went down to midcenter--not far from the festivities in Tree Plaza. TP is always a mess on Holiday Eve. I try to stay away from crowds like that, but in some ways, they make me feel more human. Plus it was a fun way to spend the end of the year, not that we celebrated that much out in the West Quad.

So, unlike most crowds, I decided to wander in amongst them before I made my way to the Museum of Knowledge, where the journalism exhibition was. The crowd was just as large as I had expected. When Ande and I intentionally wanted to see the Tree Show, we were only able to get a few hundred decometers away. That's how many people were in Tree Plaza. This time, I was less motivated and was unable to get close at all. I quickly gave up and made my way to MoK.

That's when I saw her.

Yes, it was Emi walking into the museum, just ahead of me.

-Jim Conant

New Earth City, 1 January

2009-01-06T00:31:00.000-08:00

Still, my hands have red on them.

I can't seem to get it off. I suppose that's a good thing. A horrible, good thing.

This blog--it is now all I can do. In a galaxy of blogs, I hope someone will see this and... I don't know what. I'm not sure what to advocate. Perhaps once you've heard the rest of my story, at least up to this point, you'll think of something to do and let me know.

A few days after my last post, I allowed myself to become enveloped a bit by the whole selection mess. It's a yearly thing, but as I said before, it was a big one this year. The good news is that for the first time someone born on the Third Ring made it into office. Well, he's not made it yet, commencement isn't another few weeks. I may go to the CapitalPod to see the crowds that will be too big for me to get close to see the new Pillar, himself.

The big deal here is that a Thirder made it into office. No Thirder ever has. Ever since the Second Ring broke up, it's been tough on the Thirders to get the support they've needed. Resources are scarce and so the entire ring dropped into poverty. It's been that way for a long time and it's tough for anyone out there to get the right contacts to make it it to the main ring, let alone getting far enough in politics. Everyone just assumed Pillar Rose was just not balanced enough. Sure, just to survive on the Third, you've got to be stable, but Rose--he managed to do more. Rose is charismatic--good looking and seems like he knows what he's doing, but he's still like a friend--like a guy you'd have coffee with.

Now the concern among the circles I've been traveling both via the smartBox and in person is that he won't make it to commence his Pillarship. Of course, these kinds of conspiracies are common and after seeing what I've seen since last I wrote, I have to say I'd believe in that conspiracy if I didn't know better. In fact, since last September, the theories I came to New Earth City with have been reinforced and... expanded.

Pillar Rose will be fine. He'll make it to the commencement and he'll be seen as one of the best pillars, Fifth or otherwise, the United Earth Ring has had. See, he's on the inside of all of this. The lightning storms, the Vidi, that old man at the old warehouse, the arrests and detaining at the old warehouse--it's all the very bottom. Rose is the very top.

Or maybe he isn't.

The really frustrating thing is that things were coming together so well--things were getting worse and worse. There was no denying it--but now with a Thirder...

To give us all hope the bad men let the impossible happen. A Thirder as the Fifth Pillar.

They did the one thing that they knew would put us all at ease. If a Thirder could make it that far, then we knew we lived in a fair society, that our system works and, most of all, that we could trust our leaders again.

I've seen so many things... the Ring is dying and will soon be as bad as the Third, if not worth. Money and eco people were talking about how "the game was even" again. The wave of success Pillar Rose rode over to the main Ring on would bring thousands with it from the Third--metaphorically, of course. Many of us in the First don't want their kind here--that would mean more Thirders in positions of power. Not a thing to want. Sure, they're equal, we're told, but they can't know what we know out there on the Third. So, they'll build themselves up there. Of course, in the meantime, we're dropping down--systems are failing. Pay is dropping (not that I'd know firsthand since I'm still officially jobless).

But despite the mess we're facing, people have faith in the future of the United Earth Ring.

And now the red on my hands serves as evidence. The red that got into the lines and wrinkles and cracks in my hands and won't wash out. It's as though I can see my own blood coursing through my veins.

But it's not my blood...

...it's someone else's.

More tomorrow. I promise.

New Earth City entry for September 2

2008-09-01T23:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of updates. It's been a strange time. I've going through a lot and I'll try to explain.

To begin, it's selection time again. We're two months from the day in which one of the five Pillars of the Earth Ring are chosen. This is somewhat historic time for the entire system since each pillar is replaced once every five years. But there's just one selection per year. The four Pillars each oversee one quadrant each with the fifth administering the other four Pillars. School texts talk inform us that the Fifth Pillar is just an overseer who helps the other four make their decisions. However, the Fifth Pillar is always made to seem the most important in the feeds.

I think it's something in our heads--we need to feel ruled over, I think. Like the kings back on Earth.

Not that anything good came from the kings. Still, it is nice to have a leader we can look up to. I think all of the Pillars want what's best for us. Sometimes, some people think they're wrong anyway.

So, that's where we are now--I'm still out of work, so I've been looking at all of the action wondering how I can fit in. Or at least I was.

A few weeks ago I got something on my smartBox. It was a message from someone I knew when I last lived in this quad--some one I was tempted for a time to spend my life with. But I was young and we both grew apart after we went off to university. Not that we moved to different quads, though we might as well have. There seemed a solar system between us during those years. Later, after I moved to the West Quad, there was obviously even more distance.

She was the last person I expected to hear from, but when I woke that morning three weeks ago, I tapped my smartBox to life and it shifted into her face. It was still beautiful--not precisely as I remembered it, but close enough so that I could still see the spark that I had fallen for. That spark that so few other women have--something I was lucky to find with my Ande.

And there she was, talking to me again. Her face looked a little tired--funny she didn't correct her avatar in the system for that. Her voice hadn't changed at all.

"I know it must be strange hearing from me after all these years," the avatar said.

I could feel my right eyebrow rise, involuntarily, with suspicion as the avatar continued.

"But I had heard that you were one of the group arrested the other day and I'm a defender, so I thought I might see if you needed any legal help. Things are quite slow for me these days."

How had she heard? She couldn't have read this blog--it's one of millions. I'm not even only Jim Conant with a blog. Ande was too upset to talk about my arrest with anyone. This was very puzzling.

Not only that, but it brought up some strange feelings. Feelings that once came very close to getting us both in trouble. They made me feel... happy, actually. With all of the uncertainty in our move to NEC and finding a job as a journalist, I hadn't felt legitimately happy in some time.

There were moments with Ande that were happy, I suppose, but hearing from Emi again--this was different. I don't think I'd describe this as just happy--I think maybe "joy" would fit? Not to sound old fashioned, but yeah, "joy" describes it.

Long after we stopped dating we stayed friends. Best friends, I'd say now, though I wouldn't have back then. I was suddenly remembering everything I shared with her.

I went on my first space walk with her. It wasn't her first, but... I had entirely forgotten about that. Heh...

As I grew interested in rebooting our friendship, I was still supposed to be paying attention to the selection process--the people going for the Fifth Pillar. That's certainly what I told my wife, anyway.

The thing is, those damn smartBoxes are so good at feeding distractions. After a few days of exchanging short messages back and forth, I got a little curious and did the same thing to her that she did to me and looked her up. It turns out she runs a small defender office just outside NEC, not far from where we grew up. I looked up the security feeds from that sector of the NEC subs and found her house. Then found her loc in the feednet, not that I needed it since she had messaged me. Still, there it was. I could even see the garden pod and their... park. It was a two vehicle park--only one was there when I looked, but two. In her next message, she explained:

"I'm married, what do you think? I spend all this time single and wishing for you?"

I smiled and shrugged, my eyebrow rising again.

"We've got two boys." She giggled suddenly. "Can you imagine it? Me surrounded by three men all the time."

"I don't know how they manage," I said, under my breath, remembering her energy.

"It's the kids that wear me out. But regarding your request of a coffee date, I think that would be fine."

I smiled and my heart skipped a little as I kept listening.

"I'm not sure when I'll be in the city next, but I'm usually in once every month or so."

I messaged her back explaining how much I looked forward to seeing her in the flesh and not in the morphic the smartBox was made of.

Then, the same day one of the main runners for Fifth Pillar announced their choice for co-minister, my smartBox shifted into Emi's face once again.

"I can't message you for a while. I'm sorry--I want to, but I can't right now."

My heart could have stopped beating for all I was aware. Her words hung in my head like they were being spoken over and over. I played the message again and paused it, just so I could try to get something from her avatar's expression. Her dark skin seemed flush--like she was happy. Her brown eyes were bright and wide open despite their usual narrow shape. She had obviously set her avatar mood to "happy" but was she really "happy" to say she couldn't message me?

My heart sank. I messaged her back, setting my avatar to "concerned" but tried to keep things positive.

"No problem," I told her, "just message me when you can."

I sent the message and that has been it.

I got distracted by the selection and it has been a long time since I saw Emi last. I think I've changed a lot since then. It would have been nice to have her tell me just how much I'd changed. But it seems like she's done with me, again.

I suppose we men never give up the torch. So, it stings a little, but I've got a wife, too. Responsibilities to her and to our future together. As a result, I knew I had to move on. Sure, being friends with Emi would have been great, but surely, I'd survived for nearly two decades without seeing her, why should I suddenly start missing her now?

I'll go into more about the selection in my next entry. I promise to not wait another month.

Oh, and I never did hear from that one job. I'm giving up on it at this point. It wasn't a journalism position, anyway. As for all that stuff with the arrest? I'm not sure what to make of all of that. If I come across any of it again, I'll be sure to post about it, but I tried doing some research on it, but there's nothing in the feeds about it and the smartBox actually is strangely short on information on the Vidi--short in that there isn't any. So, there's just no story there as far as I can tell.

More soon.

-Jim Conant

New Earth City, 2 August Entry

2008-08-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

So, things got back "normal" after I got home from being arrested. Of course, Ande was upset and concerned, but I was able to calm her down within an hour or so. I didn't blame her at all. Though, really, if the situation had been inverted, I think I'd be more likely to take a little longer to calm down.

"I'm just glad you're OK," she told me. "You hear stories of what happens."

I knew what she meant. I had heard the stories. The so-called "intelligenters" on the inFeeds try to tell us in their blogfeeds about horrible abuse by our leaders. As a journalist, I've shied away from pursuing such subject matter. It's not very marketable. Deep down, everyone loves a good conspiracy, but no one will admit it these days.

Now, I'm not saying what happened to me the other night was part of a conspiracy, but it was an interference with my rights. If they had said I committed a crime, that would be one thing.

"So, why did they arrest you?" my wife asked me during that first hour of being home.

"I don't know. All they said was that I'd been picked up on a technicality and that my arrest was a formality."

"Technicality, formality, I hate all those legal words."

"Ande, you should read more."

"I read plenty, Jim."

"You should read more, then."

"Well, I would, but you don't write more or else I'd have more to read!"

I smiled at my wife. "Well, I may have the basis for my first writing sample in NEC."

"The arrest?"

"Of course! I got swept up in some big police action or some such thing. Who knows how many other people were swept up in the same wave?"

"You think there were others? Aside from those in the room with you?"

"I have no reason to assume it was just us."

"So, you're going to pursue this?" Ande asked.

"I'm thinking about it," I said.

Ande was quiet. The look on her face told me that she was concerned about something.

"What?" I asked.

"Just be careful. I know how this kind of story effects you."

I rolled my eyes. "Ande, it's fine. I'm only going to go where the facts lead me--just like I always do."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"You sound as paranoid as me."

"But you always say you're not being paranoid."

I smiled again. "Don't let the neighbors hear you sounding aware, now."

She glance at the kitchen window which was closed, then back to me and smiled, embarrassed. I caressed her shoulder and smiled. "I probably won't even find anything. You know how most of these things go. You dig and you hit a steel wall and that's it."

"OK."

The steel wall is what I'd always gotten back in the West Quad. Of course, before I could really know the wall was steel, I'd lose funding or something else would come up that wouldn't make any sense in the over all story.

"You could just right something that people would want to read," Ande suggested to me in the hour after she calmed down.

"You know I can't write mainstream stuff--I can't write about station events, or community street fairs or...whatever."

"But would it be nice to get paid to do what you love?"

"I don't love writing that kind of thing. How many times am I going to have to tell you that?"

"I know, I know."

"Just let me sit on this for a bit."

Which is exactly what she did. She went off to her job and I sat at home, using my smartBox to research. The inFeeds had several tiny stories about the rain from the other night. I didn't even have to look up what that old man, Van Bush, had said to me because it was all discussed in the info blurbs that made all the inFeeds. Well, nothing about the conspiracy stuff, but the weather stuff.

Turns out, according to the mainfeed (and everyone who picked up the MF's story) that the rain came about because of slight miscalculation by an NEC engineer. It wasn't a technical fault at all. The engineer in question has been disciplined and it shouldn't rain again.

Good. Those topfloor explosions and energy losses were not good for anyone's productivity.

Of course, after reading the mainfeed news, I knew there was always more to the story--this was particularly true since I had been part of the story that wasn't being told.

So, I dug. I did a blog search first, and found close to three hundred city-area blogs that had all said something about being detained the night of the 23rd. Some were vague and light on details--just that they had been taken to a warehouse and that was it. While others had pictures of the rooms they had been held in. I saw a picture of the one I was in--I could even see myself. Well, my shoulder is visible in the picture, anyway.

The important thing is that this happened to more than just the people in the room with me.

The other thing was that this had happened to people in other stations, too--while I got just short of three-hundred local-area posts, I found many more from other stations. All of them about being arrested on the night of the 23rd. There were too many to go through right away, but I saw some from all four quads--even a couple from Angels. I didn't know the writers, though.

So, it wasn't just a local engineer who had made a mistake with his figures--the problem was wider than that if other people in other city-stations had been arrested, too.

There was a lot to read and I'm not entirely sure how to encapsulate it neatly.

Put simply, there was an event that got a lot of people out onto their topfloors in a number of cities in the Ring. It did rain in other stations, but not all of them. In some instances there were topfloor explosions with no cause at all. Anyone who happened to be taking out their refuse or (I assume) tried to investigate were swept up, but so far, I could find no one who was actually charged with anything.

I couldn't find any mention of the word "vidi" either. I did a separate search for it on my smartBox and couldn't find anything.

Once again, I'd run into a steel wall.

Where else could I look?

All I could do was keep reading people's posts. So much of it is duplicated information. I know there's valuable information out there someplace and I waste time when ever I read the same information again.

I've tried contacting few of them, but none have responded yet.

There's not much more for me to do until someone responds.

Still no word on my job. It's been weeks since I had my last interview. Not sure what's taking them so long. Need to do something to get money flowing again. If I'm going to get any funding for the rain/arrest story, I'll need to have something with a bit more meat than just "it rained and three-hundred people and I got arrested and released three days later."

More soon, hopefully.

-Jim

New Earth City, 27 July Entry #5

2008-07-27T14:03:00.000-07:00

Well, that was absurd. The other night it did this thing called "rain". I've now learned it's what happens when atmospheric conditions are in a particular way that you get water dropping from the sky. These "drops" occur when there are little tiny specs in the air--the moisture grabs on and they fall.

Did I get this from the smartBox? Sadly, not.

After Ande went to bed, I let my curiosity get the better of me. I went up stairs to the topfloor--perfectly within my rights as a tenant--my building has its refuse pickup up there, like a great many apartment buildings in most city stations in the ring. The thing is, when I got there I was told I couldn't step onto the topfloor.

"No refuse drop off today," a strange man said through the falling water.

"But I have my trash and tomorrow is a pickup day."

I held up the trash bag I had hastily filled before leaving my apartment.

"Give it to me," he said.

I thought quickly. "Well, I--I like to do these things myself."

He took hold of my bag but I didn't let go.

"Y'see, I'm a writer and I don't like people going through what I throw away."

"You write things on paper?"

"Uh, yes! Notes and things. Source's names and contact information. I know we're supposed to log them, but..." I smiled, hoping he would understand my attitude that journalists could still be allowed to protect their sources.

"All right, go ahead."

As I stepped out of the stairwell and from under the tiny ceiling that stopped the water from falling on me, I glanced around. There was a large crowd of people dressed like that first man, working on various equipment on the topfloor.

Their attire was bright blue and glossy. It was such a bright blue that it glowed in the dark. Also, it looked slippery because it was wet. I wondered what allowed them to not slip and fall. I tried to listen to what they said as I walked to the receptacles. It was hard to hear with all of the water.

"The reign has damaged this oral sensor," I heard one say.

"The vidi sensor is damaged, too," another said.

Obviously, I had no idea what they were talking about.

A king has control over some sort of speaking sensor?

Is "vidi" even a word?

I decided I would have to consult with my smartBox once I got back to my apartment.

I dropped my refuse bag in the receptacle and turned back toward the stairway, still trying to hear what people were saying. It was then when I saw that first strange man with his own smartBox to his ear.

"No, he's fine--just throwing away his refuse," he said pausing. "Yes, I know that."

I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation--the strange man must have a smartBox with privacy mode installed. This guy was high up in the hierarchy!

"I understand, sir. Will do," the strange man said, just before looking at me. It was a look I didn't like. "I'm going to have to arrest you."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my heart starting to pound.

"It's just a technicality," he said, waving two other blue people to move to my side.

"Can I tell my wife what's going on?"

He paused again, looking at me with a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry, no. You can message her from HQ, though."

I took a big breath and went quietly.

The two blue people escorted me down to the groundfloor and then out the front of my building. A freevie the same color as the blue people's clothes was waiting for us. It was a multi-passenger transport--big enough for a family of twelve (like the vids on the smartBox tell us).

They were fairly gentle with me, pushing me firmly into the back and then strapping my legs and arms into one of the nine seats inside. Already inside, and sitting next to me was an attractive woman I recognized as someone else from my building. She was a few years younger than me.

"Were you arrested for taking out the trash, too?" I asked her.

"Please remain silent," one of the blue people told me as the woman nodded. I didn't know her name, but had often held the door for her as she entered and exited our building.

I formed a slight smile, hoping to keep her calm. My heart was still beating quickly, but not as bad as it had been. The blue people were much nicer than I would have expected regular police to be. They wear black, after all.

After several minutes of sitting in silence, the two blue people who had escorted me to the blue freevie opened the door again and gently pushed another man in. Moments later, he was strapped in like myself and my female companion.

"Remember, please remain silent or anything you say will be used against you," one of the blue people explained.

This new man wasn't a tenant in our building but I think he lived across the road. I was pretty sure I'd seen him on the street by the liquor place every so often.

Minutes later, three more people were escorted in and strapped down. This time it was two women and a man.

Perhaps as long as ten minutes later, three more men were added to the group.

Of all the people now in the blue freevie, some I recognized as neighbors and others I didn't recognize at all.

The vehicle had no windows and no line-of-sight to the front seats. However, I could tell we were moving--just not where. As a journalist, a true journalist, I knew it was my job to try and work out where we were going but I had no experience doing something like that from inside a closed freevie. On a rail car of some kind, perhaps--but a freevie?

It couldn't have been more than an hour later when we stopped, the door opened and we were unstrapped and allowed to exit the vehicle. Once outside, we found ourselves inside a large warehouse that smelled of refuse.

It was quite disgusting, actually. The floors were of some sort of stone (concrete, perhaps?) but were stained black with some sort of oily substance. Other blue people dressed in the same glossy clothes appeared and took our smartBoxes away from us. Damn, that guy told me I could message Ande from "HQ". Maybe I wasn't there yet?

We were then ushered into a rather large space--maybe around ten meters square--that was filled with other people. LOTS of people.

One approached me. "Were you on your roof, too?"

Before I could respond the entire group I had joined seemed to be chatting with others from my freevie. The chatter was so loud the blue people made an announcement over some sort of audio system (perhaps with oral sensors?).

"Please remain quiet. In most cases your imprisonment will be temporary. The more quiet you are, the more quickly this will go."

He spoke flawless Standard. Not a trace of a dialect. Very rare in New Earth City, from everything I had heard, both firsthand and not.

"You will all be processed in due time. Please remain calm and cooperative and your rights will be protected at all times. Thank you for your patience."

I decided to find a spot on the floor to sit down and do exactly as the voice had asked. The room was very crowded so the floor in a corner was the best place to feel a bit less, well, crowded.

Most of the others left me alone. I only had to shrug off one person who tried to engage me in conversation that one night. At that point I was starting to get worried that Ande would be home and worried about where I was. I couldn't see anything that I could do so I just sat there and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke to see blue people entering the room and passing out some sort of sustenance drink. When it was my turn to receive one, I took a sip. I guess it was probably Bug Power--it was pink, but I'm not good at identifying tastes.

As I sipped the liquid from the cup, I saw how dirty my hands had become. As I slept sitting up, I must have accidentally touched the floor with them. I rubbed them on my gray pants and only some of the black came off. I shrugged and stood up. I spotted a blue man just before he left the room. I ran over to him, nearly tripping over other people who were sitting or lying on the disgusting floor.

"Excuse me!" I said, reaching the man. "I was told I could message my wife."

"You'll be processed soon enough, citizen."

"Yes, but my wife worries a lot. She doesn't like my profession as it is and thinks I should--"

"What do you do?"

"I'm a journalist."

"Paid?"

"Not currently."

"Just sit down, you're name will be called shortly."

"My name? But sir, no one's even taken my name."

"Just sit, please. I'm only trying to do my job."

"I understand."

I bowed my head and backed away, almost tripping over another person.

I stopped and spun around, looking back at the space I had slept on. Next to it, I could see an older man with unkempt hair and clothes. I wondered if he had been there the whole night.

I sat back down and felt frustration start to build in me.

What was going on?

Why was I being held?

Had I witnessed something important or dangerous on that topfloor?

I decided it would be a waste of time to worry about it, so I took another nap.

I don't know how much longer it was before I woke up, but when I did the disheveled man next to me began to talk.

"Did you see the Apparatus?"

"Excuse me?" I eyed the man.

"The apparatus?"

"Yeah, with an uppercase 'a' at the front of it."

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what an "apparatus" is," I said, honestly.

"It's a kind of machine. It's an old word, I know--but it's appropriate. You know what 'appropriate' is, right?"

"Yes, I do, thank you."

"So, the Appar-at-us, you said?"

He spelled the word out for me. "A-P-P-A-R-A-T-U-S, got it?"

"Ah-para-tus?" I said, imagining the letters he'd just used in my mind's eye.

"APP-UH-RAT-US. Jeez, you call yourself a journalist?"

I suddenly noticed the wrinkles on the man's face. I wondered how old he was.

"Look, you saw it, I saw it, we all saw it last night--the machine--the Apparatus that is controlling things."

"Oh, OK, I understand now," I said, smiling.

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do." He was clearly one of those 'aware' types on the inFeed that enjoys finding supposed secret plots to control citizens and historical events.

"You know us conspiracy theorists, do you?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm a journalist, remember? A good journalist considers all angles on a story."

"So, you're one of us?"

"I didn't say that," I said. "I've done research and know your type."

"Well, good--so then you know some of us are full of it and others are spot-on, correct?"

"Yes, of course."

"So, how'd you like the rain last night?" He asked.

"I'm sorry? I didn't know we were ruled by a king suddenly."

"Not the 'reign' stupid, the RAIN. The water falling from the sky?"

"Is that what--"

"You don't even know what rain is?? My lord, kids these days! Do you even read books of old Earth?"

"Sir, if you're going to continue to insult me, I think I'd rather just return to my nap, thank you."

"Listen to me. I know how all this works. I've seen it before. I remember old Earth."

"You? You don't look old enough."

"Just trust me, kid--I've seen a mess of conspiracies play out over time and read about plenty more."

"A conspiracy?"

"Yeah, and I'm trying to fight it since I'm sure I'm right this time. Before I wasn't and it all got worse. Now I'm not waiting."

"What do you want from me?"

"I'm working the room, tryin' ta work out what the hell everyone's heard."

"That's a curious dialect of Standard--where did you grow up?"

"It's not 'Standard' I'm speakin' it's ENGLISH. E-N-G-L-I-S-H."

"Of course."

I smiled, humoring him.

"So, what did you see or her up there, anything?"

"Well, just those strange blue people in wet suits repairing the topfloor equipment."

"Did you hear anything? I need you to think hard."

Think hard? This man was speaking a dialect I couldn't place at all.

"Come on! You must have heard something."

I told him what I had recalled.

"There you go again, it's not the 'reign' of some king, it was the rain from the sky--it didn't damage an 'oral' sensor, but an 'aural' sensor! A sensor that picks up audio!"

He spelled 'aural' for me.

"Anything else you hear?"

I thought for a long moment and then spoke. "Oh yes, something about a vidi? I assume that's a word I'm misunderstanding?"

"Vidi?" The old man put his hand to his face and brought his fingers through his tangled beard. "No, can't say that I understand what that word means, either."

"Van Bush," a blue woman said, standing just inside the door. The old man next to me looked toward her. "Looks like I'm the first catch of the day."

I didn't recognize his reference, but as he stood, he looked back down at me. "If I don't come back, don't give up on this story. 'Vidi' huh? That's a puzzler. Oh and try not to touch the floor with your bare skin--it's poisoned."

I glanced down at the dirty surface beneath me.

"VAN BUSH?" the blue woman called out again.

"Yeah, that's me! I'm comin'!"

I looked up and saw that he was already in front of her.

She escorted him through the door and he didn't look back at me.

For the rest of that day, I sat there in almost total silence. I conversed with only the blue people who brought our sustenance drinks. I thought about speaking to one of the other citizens there, but I didn't.

That night I slept on the floor again, doing best to not touch the floor with my bare skin--the whole time wondering how much of what the old man--of what Van Bush--had told me.

In the morning, I woke and about an hour after they served us our drinks, they called my name.

The escorted me to a brightly lit room that was about five meters square. A blue man sat at a table in the middle of the room. On the opposite side of the table there was a table. The blue woman who had escorted me to the room motioned for me to sit. I did and the man began to ask me questions.

"What were you doing on the roof?"

"Taking out my trash."

"At 21:30 at night? Why weren't you watching your entertainment inFeed?"

"Well, power was out to the tree outside, so we couldn't connect."

"I see."

There was a long pause as he stared at some sort of data on his own smartBox. Finally, he spoke again. "So, you took out your trash, instead?"

"Yes."

"And did you?"

"Of course."

"What did you see up there?"

"Up where?"

"On the topfloor."

"Just a few people dressed like you working hard to get energy back to our building."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"You're a journalist, are you sure you didn't observe anything else?"

"No, I mean--yes, I'm sure."

"All right, thank you Mr. Conant, may I call you Jim?"

"Uh, well, call me what ever you want just so long as I can message my wife and tell her I'm OK."

"We already have, Mr. Conant."

"Oh... thank you. Did she sound worried?"

"Yes, so much so that we're going to release you now."

"Oh," I said, startled.

"This was just a formality, you understand, Mr. Conant. The law is the law."

I heard the door slide open behind me and the blue man stood up. I did, too.

I smiled and nodded. "Thank you, offi--" I hesitated and then continued, "Sir?"

He smiled warmly back at me and held his hand out toward the door."

"Have a good day, Mr. Conant."

I thanked him and left.

That was just a few hours ago. I took the monorail home. They gave me my smartBox back, but it had run out of energy so I had to wait until it could recharge before I could write this entry.

So, at this point, all I want to know is what is a "vidi" and why did so many of us get detained because we were on the topfloors of our buildings?

-Jim

New Earth City, 23 July Entry 4

2008-07-23T22:19:00.000-07:00

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

New Earth City, 22 July Entry 3

2008-07-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

No word back from the potential job. That's fine with me. While I grew up on one of the sub-stations of NEC, I only came here as a boy with my parents as tourists. Getting to know the place is a lot of fun. The monorails, the old-style birails and of course the enjoyment any footwalker can have by reaching their destination faster than any free-vehicle could. I don't know--maybe I'm meant for this city. Maybe coming back here was sort of destiny. I hated Angels for it's stupidity--freevies can get you anywhere, but they're absurdly inefficient. The "free" in "free-vehicles" was pretty damn expensive.

So, NEC's a real place for people who are fine with footing it and taking rails to get where we need to go. Still, there are streets that are clogged with traffic. With another day without work, I plan on spending some of tomorrow exploring, at least a bit. Finances are tight, but my RailPass is already paid for until the end of the month, so I have another week of unlimited travel.

Where should I go?

To the Imperial Block and see the entire topside of the station? Or maybe check out the shops at the major consuming squares in NEC? On my birthday last month my wife and I stumbled across some really interesting independently owned shops selling all sorts of neat items. I don't know how they survive--even though they charge so much for their goods, I can't imagine it's enough to cover the energy taxes they must get stuck with. After all, you can't sell what customers can't see.

No, I can't go shop-visiting for my aforementioned financial reasons. Sure, I could simply avoid buying anything, but why tease myself? This move has been hard enough. No, I'm going to check out the underside of the station. It's where I live so it'll be a short commute.

The move, by the way--the trip--from the west quad to here was pretty smooth, as I think I said. The only thing that was hard was when an unforecasted solar storm kicked up and blinded our van's sensors. We were sight-flying for about a thousand kilometers. A little nerve-wracking. If you lose your baring for even a few hundred you can get far enough off your course to find yourself without enough fuel to get to your next stop. Sure, there's always calling for a tow, but still--you don't want to get lost in some parts of the Ring waiting for your truck to show up, you kn0w?

How do I feel about living on the underside? Well, it's not the best in the world, right? I mean, sure--I was living in a pretty nice neighborhood back in Angels, but it's no surprise that the Big City wouldn't let me stay in as nice an area. We're paying more for an apartment in a worse part of the station. Still, I kind of like it. I live among people like me--no, not aspiring journalists--but real, normal people. We're not rich or powerful here. The politicians and even the business people all speak eight different dialects, despite the ban. Of course, here in NEC, the ban doing business in languages other than Standard isn't really enforced. There are so many people here from so many different quadrants that it would be impossible to function without speaking at least one other dialect.

I do feel isolated. Partly because I speak Standard so well (in a way, it's my job--or rather, it will be) and partly because I'm used to so much more comfort. Another factor is that my area just doesn't have a lot of Standard-friendly shops around that we can frequent. No chain cafes or eateries that we recognize.

Again, it's good. I'm perfecting my observational skills here. I'm not used to seeing or hearing people like my neighbors. It's a good thing, I think. Then again, if I'm going to try for anything in the mainstream, underside-aware may not be something I should list on my CV. Must consider that.

I'm doing what writers used to call "rambling," I think.

All right, let me see if I can get a bit more interesting.

Why am I in NEC? My wife got the job here, but what am I going to do here?

As I mentioned I am an aspiring journalist. The irony with that statement is that I'm fifteen years out of college and majored in nothing resembling journalism.

The added irony to that statement is that I despise the media.

I suppose I think I'll try to pretend I don't long enough to try to journalize what actually matters in this universe.

That should work fine if they don't find me out and somehow purge me from the system.

Maybe I'm just being aware of a conspiracy where there isn't one. Regardless, no one wants to seem aware. That's why I've got this blog. It will serve as my release valve. That's some more irony for you. Back in ancient times the point of the media was to investigate and journalize. You'd think I'd be worried about them finding this blog, but that would require effort. Besides, they'd have to report the truth--no one does that anymore.

Apologies. My cynicism runneth over. I admit "runneth" isn't Standardly correct, but this is NEC. No one enforces the ban.

All right, enough "babbling."

Tomorrow, I'll go somewhere.

-Jim

New Earth City, 21 July Entry 2

2008-07-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in my second entry. Moving to a new station can be hectic, tiring and even surprising. Even when you think you've experienced enough in life, life still manages to open the airlock on you from time-to-time.

My wife and I got to NEC a few month ago--19 May, to be exact. The trip from Angels Station went amazingly smoothly, considering we were uprooting our entire life on Angels to come here. We decided to leave the west quad of the ring because my wife got job here. Of course, it helped that everything was getting more expensive in Angels. Energy taxes are through the ceiling and we couldn't afford to finance our own panels. Sure, there are still taxes when you own, but interest payments on the financing is only slightly cheaper than just paying the taxes in the first place.

Then there's the whole thing with everybody owning their own vehicle there. It's like no ever sees the old monorail tracks all around the station--evidence that Angels Station residents didn't always need total freedom in transportation. Of course, energy taxes hit car owners, too.

Energy taxes.

Just makes me wonder why the West Quad Ring Government is so keen on them. The average 'aware' comment is to point out that government always makes money. So it taxes the thing people do most. In any place but the big stations (like NEC or any of the other city-stations) energy taxes don't make a whole lot of money for the local RG. That was a big plus for us--we sold our flyrs and what we would have spent on panel maintenance, insurance, energy taxes and parking we spend on food. Of course, strangely, food prices have risen, too.

Then again, maybe it's not so strange. Energy taxes go up, so it's more expensive to get the food from the farming platforms on the Inner Ring. I don't know whose idea it was to put the inner ring so far away from where all the people live. At least some sub-stations around NEC have been repurposed into farming plats. Makes for cheap groceries once a month, but only if you get to the market early. If not, you'll miss all the fresh stuff.

You learn a lot when you move to New Earth City and you have to learn it fast if you want to survive here. It's been a hard couple of months. I should go into the details, but it's too recent and too annoying to repeat now. I need to put some distance between it and the frustration about it that I still feel.

Sometimes I think this place has already beaten me--but I've only just gotten here. Seems absurd, I know, but if all you know of NEC is what you see in media, you can't really know what I mean. Even tourists or commuters who come in from the sub-stations don't get it. NEC is an island unto itself. Unlike any other in the Ring.

OK, enough for now. More tomorrow. I may hear about a job. I'd say wish me luck, but to truth, I'm pretty sure I don't want it.

Oh yeah, haven't mentioned my name yet in this blog. It's Jim, Jim Conant. My wife is Ande, but she goes by her last name, which I'll mention only if it's important. Can't imagine why it would be.

-Jim

New Earth City, 17 July Entry 1

2008-07-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

Two months ago, almost to the day, my wife and I moved to New Earth City--the go-to station in the Earth Ring. Everyone in the nine colonies says it's the best station in the Ring to live in, which is good because, well, everyone's going to want to live there very soon.

Why do I say this? I wish there was an easy answer. The best way I can put it is this:

All nine colonies in the Earth Ring, including all of their city stations and sub stations, rely on one source for energy--the sun. There's a problem with putting all of your reliance on one source of energy--if that one source goes dry, what do you do?

Am I a scientist? Or some sort of expert in solar power?

I am neither. I am simply a man who pays attention to the signs.

The world as we know it will be ending soon.

But don't worry, we've survived this kind of thing before and we'll survive this...

...at least, some of us will.

WELCOME...

2006-05-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

...to my fiction blog.

Currently this blog will be for my new novel "New Earth City", a story about the fall of a futuristic society set in a ring of space stations around the sun. From time to time, I may not be able to post a new chapter, so I'll post a short story or some flash fiction. Got a fiction blog? Let me know and we can trade links.

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