Neon Zero_The Neon Series Prequel Read online

  He could practically hear Mr. Osborne shaking his head. Perhaps a smile unzipping across his face.

  He added; “’Course, I could just come find you. Whip you at gyro-tennis.”

  Mr. Osborne laughed. “Not even in my prime would I beat you. Don’t make me regret this. In and out.”

  “Of course.”

  The light turned green and the sensor acknowledged their bodies up and instructed the door to open. The flat, warm air rushed past them into the Agridome – the ventilation system wouldn’t thank them for that – and they pushed through, out into the settling night. Jax’s goosebumps returned, electricity in the air. A few of the solar lights had burned out earlier, leaving a sporadic puzzle of dull yellow illumination around the dome and spreading out towards the terraforming operation a full mile away. Tarmac reflected back some of that light, otherwise isolated pockets of shrubbery and hedgerows still in infancy glowed faintly, mere impressions just further out. A warehouse storing an excess of vehicles; ploughs, harvesters, tractors and heavy farming machinery, was a large rectangular face of black against the stars above. He wondered briefly if they were going to bring any of them inside, or if they had been relegated to dust.

  “All the hoverbikes are inside,” said Scarlett.

  “We saw them bringing them in earlier,” added Lani.

  “I guess we’re on foot then. Did you bring torches?” It took a while to adjust to the outside air, less concentrated with oxygen than the domes and the once-orbiting ships. They had bade their time – up among the stars – allowing the terraforming to proceed while adjusting their air composition to slowly acclimatise. We humans love our oxygen though, thought Jax, conscious of taking deeper breaths.

  “Of course,” they said, extracting torches from pockets. Jax had his own – everyone had their own. It saved on power to keep the nightly illumination low.

  Three cones of light pointed ahead, seemingly without an end.

  “They’re saying most of the domes have evacuated now. We’re one of the last remaining ones – everyone else has gone to New Seren or Remington.” He looked across at Lani and watched the silhouette of her mouth as she spoke. “I’m not sure if we should have stayed or not.”

  “We can’t all be holed up in the same domes – what if something happens?”

  “It makes sense,” said Jax. “If we occupy as many domes as possible, speaking purely from a human race point-of-view, we better our chance of survival.”

  Lani shook her head. “I just can’t believe this might all disappear. I mean, we’ll be stuck in Arcadia. Forever.”

  “There’s a depressing thought.”

  “At least in New Seren there’d be more people. More things to do.”

  “Hey,” said Scarlett. She looked across at Lani, looking plaintive. “We’d have each other.”

  “We’d always have each other anyway,” laughed Lani, grabbing her sister’s arm.

  Jax quickened his pace, the edge of light fading away behind them where Arcadia’s grand outer dome blistered the night sky. Their torchlight sank into darkness ahead. He was conscious of a certain softness underfoot, of something that had melted and not quite kicked muscle memory into action. Tacky underfoot. Warm too, even through the rubber of his soles. Despite that emanating warmth, with every step further from the light and into the darkness, chilly fingers travelled further up his arms and down his spine. “Keep up.”

  He turned around to see the twin silhouettes skipping to remain on his heels. A light jog. He had long legs and often had to remind himself to consider others trying to keep pace with him. “It’ll keep you warm,” he said.

  “Lanky arse,” said Scarlett.

  “You didn’t have to come.”

  “And miss what might be our final excursion to The Oasis? Not a chance!” said Lani, jogging past. “What you waiting for?”

  He watched as the twins sped ahead, their torch-beams like the arms of a single sprinter, pumping for speed. Their giggles hit his face like sand as his walk turned into a run, the air against his cheeks and brow. They left their teenage counterparts behind as they chased their elemental childhood, and he laughed with them, glad of this moment that might be the last moment they’d have to feel like children.

  Journal of Lance Corporal Edmonds

  2nd March (ext), 2234

  This place… it’s so oppressive. Sheet walls of concrete and metal everywhere. Neon’s orbiting construction base really went all out. They must have had BIG plans. Must HAVE big plans – all these highrises and empty floors just waiting to be filled. I’m surprised they’re so rigorous with their immigration policy – they certainly have the space for refugees. And so righteous. It’s actually angering me a little. I wouldn’t want to live here but given the choice between possibly burning to a crisp out there in an underpowered dome, or living my days here, I know which I’d choose – and what many others nearby are TRYING to choose.

  This morning I headed down to the breakfast bar to find Birdie and the rest of the Alpha Five crew; to catch up with them and learn their status. The diner was crammed with people. It wouldn’t have been a scene too out of place in a New Seren retirement resort: round wooden tables with blue tablecloths, four wooden spindle-back chairs around each one, napkins adorning the table bull’s-eyes while forks darted about plates, clanking that punctuated the excited murmurs of fasttalk. All very quaint. As though this was a holiday. Children running around and shouting excitedly while parents failed to get them to turn down the volume. Children had no volume control on holiday – didn’t they know? And while I watched I was overcome with sadness that I couldn’t find the nearest empty chair, and hold the adjacent one out for Jerry. It had nothing to do with the Senior decor or old fashioned furniture – which Jerry would have probably quite liked – it was the vibe. That holiday atmosphere.

  Then one glance to the perimeter shattered that illusion. They didn’t wear uniform or have their guns on display but they wore military grade spec-opticles; I counted eight in total. Like, what were we going to do? Riot? Rip a hole in the fabric of their carefully constructed reality?

  It was overkill, if you ask me.

  But no-one did.

  That was one of the strangest things about today. My authority here is completely non-existent. The more I think about it, the more surprised I am they allowed any of us in.

  I spoke to one of the guards and asked to see someone in charge, and he looked at me as though this was the strangest thing anyone had ever said to him. He said, “Your request has been noted.” I said, “How?” He said nothing and tapped a forefinger to his glasses. Bastard glasses would’ve told him exactly who I was and he still treated me with the same lack of respect as he treated everyone else. Just... a void. Someone left the room and a guard followed. It quickly became apparent we were cattle.

  I walked across the room towards Baines, smiling at some children with red faces that I recognised from the day before, and sat down next to him. He tapped a soundless sonata above the table while chewing his tongue. Steam rose from hot coffee in a white mug – synthetic or real, I wondered, and asked.

  “What do you think?” he groaned. “Whole fucking place is synthetic.” He brought the mug to his lips and winced the liquid down. He said he hadn’t had a cigarette in hours, and looked it. Eyes flushed red. Bags hung low. Though that could’ve been the lack of sleep.

  “Pain keep you up too?” I asked.

  He knocked on the table, brought his lips together in a fake smile, and nodded. “Worst damn case of sunburn ever.”

  Some children stormed a nearby table and I marvelled how quickly they were able to adjust; not just to location, but also their own pain. The sunburned of them gleamed with creamy oils where skin was exposed.

  “What do you think?” asked Baines. “This it? We stuck here?”

  “Would you care?” I asked him. “All you’ve done is move from one empty room to another for the past eight weeks.”

  “What’s that supp
osed to mean?”

  I shook my head. I just felt hopeless.

  “I’m not worried about me,” he said, leaning in close. I could smell the salve on his skin. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be finding a way to get back to Jerry?”

  I should have been. Or at least doing more to get a status update. I gave Baines a nod and found Birdie, stuffing her face with chocolate croissants and orange juice. Watching her made my belly groan and I suddenly regained my appetite. I grabbed a slice of toast on my way over to her and contemplated a salute as I approached; a joke one, the thought bringing a smile to my face.

  Jerry’s voice popped up in my head to remind me that ‘All joking aside…’ [end of sentence]. I saw his frozen smile and mischievous eyes and felt hollow.

  It was Birdie who actually saluted me, sending flakes of croissant to her shirt and laughing with her head tilted back. There was something funny spoken around her table but I hadn’t caught it, and regardless, I wasn’t in the mood. I asked her if she’d talked to anyone yet and she told me to sit down and enjoy the food and the hospitality and I told her I’d see her around.

  I had to get out. Find fresh air. Or its equivalent.

  I had to get out of Neon.

  “That’s not wise,” Franghorn said later. What an absolute horror that man is. Sure, he’s all charm and smiles, the ends of his thick moustache curling up into twirls; the white bonnet on his head and dark blue suit recalling times of early Twentieth-Century New York – the current fad here apparently – but he’d turn his suit red if it meant getting what he wanted. There had been rumours going around for years. Neon is lead by a committee of Elitists and he would be their unofficial leader – together, they are the architects of this city’s moral and physical foundations. On the surface they’re thriving. (No pun intended – in orbit they were ruthlessly efficient.) Room a-plenty for the million or so who live here. The Agridome needs little in the way of manual attention. I’ve seen the agrorobotics and hydrorobotics for myself and it is impressive what automation they have achieved – I guess those years in orbit were useful for something. It was said they had commandeered the greatest minds, and perhaps it was true.

  Last time I was here I asked Fanghorn for a tour of Neon’s depths, but he denied the request. I wrote about this previously so it’s nothing new. Never quite put it out of mind, though. What’s going on down there? I don’t mean the housing situation either – we’ve all seen how deep the towers run – but it would be remarkable I’m sure to be able to investigate the engineering at the heart of this city. Right down there in the depths. They say they have no new knowledge or technology to share with us, yet their robotics say otherwise.

  Maybe in time I’ll find out.

  I’ll probably never get to leave, so…

  I had to be in that asshole’s presence while he told me that storm surges were intensifying and to head out now back to New Seren could be suicide. He pouted, as if I was a child. As his eyes… twinkled. Does that sound weird? He couldn’t give a damn about my situation. He waved the back of his hand and said; “But don’t let me stop you. You managed to force your way in here by playing on our consciences; all those poor, burned children – how could we turn you away? How monstrous of us, if we did! As much as Neon would love to absorb you into its citizenry, I cannot stop you leaving. We’ll even give your Grounder a quick service, make sure she’s tip-top and ready to carry you back to New Seren.

  “But you should go now, before it gets worse.”

  We were talking on the roof of the tower at this point. I turned away from his face and looked high towards the ceiling of the dome. Hung like a halo above the city was The Ring, attached to the underside of the dome and where all the Elitists lived. Franghorn had descended to give a small welcoming speech to the new arrivals, and while he was speaking I left. A guard followed me, of course. So I told him I needed the toilet and I was going back to my room. That I’d probably sleep because I’d been up all night in pain.

  He still followed me.

  Back in my room, I flushed the toilet and lay on the bed making fake snoring noises for five minutes. And when I checked, the guard was gone. Through boredom or only loose instructions, I don’t know. I left and went immediately to the roof to wait for Franghorn.

  I inhaled, deep enough to suck the air from dying lungs. That’s how it smelled, right then. Tower roofs paled into the distance, as though I was standing at the edge of a chess board. Empty air fell to moving vehicles below. It was remarkably peaceful, being so high. The last time I’d been so peaceful was probably pre-solar alert, sitting besides New Seren Lake with Jerry and our families, drinking beer and eating barbecue. Still waters rippling only when a toy motorboat trailed past.

  “Do you have any lakes here?” I asked.

  “No. I’m going to head back now. You do what you want.”

  “Can I see the weather report?”

  He took a pad from his pocket and handed it over. “It’s all there.” He tweezed his moustache with absent fingers and turned his back on me, stepping into his manned drone. I watched it rise silently away, leaving me alone with my guard.

  The reports were bad. I read them while my legs carried me to the Neon exit: first to the stairs that lead down from the roof, then to the elevator, then out into the tower lobby filled with people and polished, white concrete that echoed their footsteps and clamouring voices. Then out into the day; the antithesis of the rooftop. There was no stillness, no calm, to be found at street level. Perhaps at any level, I thought. Even high up there – I looked up, barely able to discern the contours of the tower edge – maybe the peace had been an illusion. A delusion. Only the kind of peace I found whenever I thought of Jerry – one that I carried around with me. That I carry now. That I need to carry now.

  The guard had an autocar waiting. It carried us to the exit while my fingers scrolled the reports and read them like Braille. The outside temperature at that moment was 47-degrees Celsius. The Grounder had air conditioning, so that wasn’t such a problem – for me. The worry was overheating the hybrid engine or frying a circuit board if there was a minor flare. Then I’d be stuck and reliant on rescue – if anyone was willing to take the risk. It was now or never. I needed to speak with Baines. And I needed to video Jerry.

  Oasis

  Jax found The Oasis a few Earth-months earlier while exploring the outer edges of the known terrain on his hoverbike. The whole area had been auto-mapped from the skies; nothing but desert and rock formations and long-stamped craters. All that was the future. No need to head there on foot. Or vehicle. The land of most potential had already been selected. When Jax went exploring it was to areas that had never entered the eye before – human or otherwise. This thrill matched the thrill of the hoverbike’s speed; its solar-sail wings a frenzied blur in the onrushing wind. Heading to sun-glinting apertures on the horizon slowly resolving into cliff faces or anomalous boulders. Sometimes rising, sometimes falling.

  Always something new.

  The Oasis, in the scheme of things, was actually quite near. He’d explored much further since. Never repeating the discovery.

  “Beat you,” said Scarlett, panting, hands on hips. She smiled and pulled a small canister from a breast pocket, unfurling a mouth-piece at the top. She sucked in a lungful of oxygen and returned it to her pocket.

  Lani leaned against her, breathing hard with her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Fix me up,” she managed to say, allowing Scarlett to repeat the procedure with her own supply.

  “Wimps,” said Jax, measuring his inhalations. Chest and diaphragm tight with pain in the process. He sucked the thin air rapidly through pursed lips.

  “We’re human,” said Scarlett. “Even if you pretend otherwise!”

  “Obviously I’m more than human,” he said, pushing through into the narrow gap at the base of the cliff.

  Lani prodded his back. “A super-ape. A big-brained chimp.”

  “A lobotomised orang-utan,” said Scarlett.


  “An experiment gone right!” Jax turned around and shone his torch into his face and made the sound of a chimpanzee, the girls just black silhouettes in front of him, laughing until he turned the light to them. They blocked the light with their forearms and groaned.

  The narrow crevice was wide enough for one person, but widened further almost immediately after entering. The girls squeezed through and he turned to the tunnel.

  “Alright, let’s be quick.”

  “Just how much trouble do you think we’ll actually be in?” whispered Scarlett.

  Lani whispered back; “Why are you whispering?”

  “So the ghosts don’t hear,” said Jax.

  They both told him to shut up.

  “What can they do? Throw us out?” He swung the torchlight around the dead air of the cavern before them, catching the edges of arches and the fallen debris of rocks beneath. Stones and pebbles scuttled across the sandy floor whenever they kicked one, and darkness pervaded ahead.

  “They’ll thank us,” he said.

  “Thank us for what? You haven’t even told us what the big new mystery is,” said Lani.

  “In time.” He had often considered revealing his discovery to Arcadia, but then he’d hop on a hoverbike and head out towards the horizon until Arcadia disappeared behind him, look around, feel the welcome sense of being alone, and remember why he’d kept it secret to begin with. Arcadia was way too small for the number of people who lived there. It was going to be his new home – at before the inflation of solar activity.

  Gently, he began to feel the rush of cool air blowing against his face; some conflation of channels and airways in the rock pulling and sucking air through and around, dizzying. They walked through tidal doorways where the air moved in different ways, becoming slowly cooler and cooler. Passageways veered off left and right; many unexplored and others that lead to dead ends. Then the ceiling rose. And rose. Torchlight fading on the surface as it failed to reach; leaving no contrast until the ceiling disappeared altogether, to be replaced by the stars.