Freedom Incorporated (67 page)

“
All right,
forget it then.” Esteban stormed from the room, his gun raised and
his eyes darting everywhere.

What crawled
up your arse?
James wondered. But his
interest subsided soon after his door swung shut – he’d installed a
pneumatic hinge to take care of the people who forgot to close the
door behind them. He hated working with an open door and hated
people who forgot to knock. What if he was in the middle of a dirty
video call to his wife?

“
Hey honey.”
He felt drunk from lack of sleep and before he knew it, he was
looking into the videophone at his wife’s beaming smile. “I was
hoping you’d call.”

“
Hi.” James
was stunned; he didn’t remember dialling. “Are you
okay?”

“
I’d be better
if you were here.” A rippling frown marred her forehead. “You look
terrible.”

James hadn’t looked in a
mirror for days so he hadn’t seen his bloodshot eyes, the dark
sagging bags under them, or the sickly pallor of his skin. He
looked as if the flu had flattened him and antibiotics hadn’t
boosted his lagging immune system to stave off death. Either that
or he hadn’t slept in days. “Thanks.” He didn’t know what else to
say. “You look good. How’s Lillian?”

“
She’s fine.”
Susan was pouting. “But she’d also be better if you were here. Are
you sure we’re not having an argument?”

“
Not unless
you started one without me?” It was possible. It’d be just like her
to get angry at his extended absence.

“
No, I just
wanted to make sure you weren’t avoiding me, that’s all.” She
looked depressed.

“
I’ll be home
soon.” James tried to smile but his lips were parched and they
split before he could show teeth. “This can’t go on much longer.”
He thought about the Raven.
He’s homing in
on the target now…
“I’ll be there as soon as
I can, I promise.”

“
Okay.” She
blew a kiss into the camera. “I can’t wait to hear your good news.
Are you sure I’m going to like it?”

“
Positive.”
James returned the kiss.

*

Sunday
, September 1
9
, 2066

International Portal
Terminals

4:45
Sydney
,
Australia

“
Why don’t you
just buy me a lifetime voucher at Liquor-Time?” Chuck asked dryly.
Not even Dan could keep his spirits high during the dead hours of
the night. His entertainment-starved mind needed a something like a
ballgame to quench his thirst for distraction.

“
I’ll think
about it,” Dan said. “For now I’ll stick to, what is it? Seven
bottles?”

It was
actually six, but Chuck was the sort of person that’d scam a bottle
if he could. Not because he was a heavy drinker, but because that
was how he jested with friends. He’d crack open the first bottle
and salute Dan and his crusade.
Whatever
it is.
It was something to keep his
imagination occupied anyway.

“
That’ll do.”
He tagged the weapons and passed them back. “Have a pleasant trip
Mr Kennedy.”

Dan nodded and walked to
the portals. He was glad Christopher was working tonight; it made
things easier.

The
mid-afternoon bustle of the United States east coast international
terminal was in stark contrast to the lethargic pace Dan stepped
out of in Australia. The jostle took him by surprise and he coughed
for longer than usual. He still didn’t entirely trust his chip
selector and fidgeted with it nervously in his pocket.
What if it doesn’t work? What if two chips are
active instead of one? What if they realise the signal’s coming
from my pocket and not my spine?
They were
the same questions he’d tossed through his mind on the past two
occasions he’d approached a foreign immigration counter. He knew
instincts would take over if anything went horribly wrong, but what
would instincts make him do? That was the scary part. Nobody could
make a run for it; the immigration officials all had emergency
buttons at their counters. If anybody bolted, the officials would
override the system and lock down all portals. It was effective.
Nobody had ever evaded the immigration blockade.
Would I shoot? Hold a hostage? Would I
capitulate? What?
They were questions he
couldn’t possibly answer until faced with the immediate need for a
decision. He just hoped that need would never come.

The woman at the counter
scanned him and checked his profile for consistency. “Your weapons
please.” She looked frazzled by the pace of the work and didn’t
spare any precious energy on pleasantries. Most travellers
appreciated her direct manner. Occasionally an elderly person with
a severe case of loneliness would complain that she was too abrupt,
but they were the exception rather than the rule.

Dan stacked his weapons
and ammunition onto the appropriate belt and allowed her to tag
them.

“
Next!” She
squawked, her attention already shifting from Dan to the next in
line.

You see? It
works,
Dan thought in an I-told-you-so tone.
He quickly holstered his weapons and strode to the next rank of
counters, American customs – which also caused him no problems –
and soon he was striding for the domestic portals.
Next stop, PortaNet.

He could think
of two places to find a lead on Adrian Miller, who seemed the least
violent member of Esteban’s gang and therefore a logical place to
start.
Where would he
be?
It was disheartening to think he might
be with Jen, gluing her eyes shut or urinating through a funnel
into her mouth. He had to believe she was still alive, just to keep
himself going. Anger alone was not enough. A mixture of anger and
hope was a far more volatile combination. It made him unpredictable
and capable of just about anything. When he generously tossed
desperation into the beaker, he turned out to be an unstoppable
monster. But the combination that made him a deadly foe also had
the power to destroy him – a risk he was willing to
take.

His heart skipped when
the portal folded space and sucked him through the subsequent
wormhole. It’d been a while since he’d last visited New York and
the sulphurous smell that assaulted his nostrils reminded him why.
Nearly 70 percent of the population had absconded with their wealth
– and lives – as soon as Portals had made cross-country commuting
feasible and the population erosion had proved fatal for the once
thriving city. Without enough people to support the local economy,
the city had collapsed and died from rot. Those who could, fled –
by any means at their disposal. Those who couldn’t, were stuck, and
soon ran the city as they saw fit – usually through brute force and
unspeakable crimes. Intimidation ran rife and fear kept much of the
population under control, but none of the factions could keep the
others at bay for long. They fought like a pack of deranged wolves,
attacking the lead wolf until it fell from the stage only to focus
their destructive attention on the next.

America’s view on the
problem was even more disturbing for Dan. The puppet government
didn’t care to spend money fixing anything. It was a city, a dirty,
grimy city. A tumour on the land. A remnant from the previous
centaury. A relic. It was where the poor people fled because
affluent society had driven them away from the more popular, less
crowded land. New York had developed its own ecosystem of humanity,
independent from the rest of the country. The negative effects of
portal technology had struck no other city in the world
harder.

There was nobody left who
was qualified to fix the damaged sewage pipes so greasy sludge
seeped everywhere, spoiling the already fetid air and making life
even harder for the struggling, miserable inhabitants. Still, a
skeletal workforce kept the city intact, for the most part. Several
million New Yorkers demanded goods and services, their ultimate
dream to make enough money to flee, which would in turn worsen the
problem for those left behind.

But PortaNet had refused
to move their headquarters. Their office towered above the
impressive New York skyline, a potent symbol: the most powerful
corporation ever forged against the backdrop of a city wasteland
that they’d created. Regardless of PortaNet’s desire to move to
greener pastures, political tension held them fast. If they fled,
they may as well publicly announce that their invention had
destroyed a once-vibrant city. As long as PortaNet kept its base of
operations in New York, people could still delude themselves into
believing that human civilization, although decadent, wasn’t yet
doomed.

On the ground it was
another matter entirely. Dan had to walk carefully to avoid being
shot. The police presence was a joke; they were one of the factions
fighting for control of the streets and the lion’s share of the
cash such control would bring. Of course, few people brought fresh
money into the city. Greedy individuals shuffled the same wealth in
circles, gloating over it for a day before it slipped through their
buttered fingers and passed to someone else.

Little wonder therefore
that bounty hunting often led to New York City, a refuge for the
dispossessed and desperate. Several eager youngsters who’d chased
targets into the warren of vice and crime with guns blazing had
never resurfaced, consumed by the passionate hatred the locals had
for authority. The older and wiser bounty hunters took their time,
posing as part of the scenery until they learnt their targets’
patterns and could lure them into a trap. A dangerous game of
cat-and-mouse at the best of times, New York put a perilous new
spin on the tumbling dice bounty hunters cast every day. Suffice to
say, Dan wasn’t looking forward to this part of his plan. He
would’ve preferred to portal directly into the PortaNet lobby, but
it was suspiciously absent from the portal directory so he had to
settle for the nearest public station.

He reluctantly
entered the street. Expecting the weather to mirror the horror of
the city, he was surprised to find the sun shining on a warm autumn
day. More surprising: the street didn’t look like a riot zone.
Ordinary people were going about ordinary tasks. Street peddlers
were selling wares. Newsagents were selling newspapers – the
paper
variety. New York’s
own newspaper, the NYN – New York News – was proudly on display. A
greengrocer was selling vegetables instead of standing in front of
his stall with a shotgun. There was a chemist selling medication
and Dan had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things –
they weren’t Xantex products. He had no idea where the chemist had
found the drugs.
A forgotten basement from
some ancient drug store?
He wondered wether
they’d still be potent enough.
Those
things have a limited shelf-life don’t they?
He browsed the shelves as he passed, startled to see a new
label printed on boxes of medication. Dan couldn’t believe a
pharmacist would voluntarily move to New York, and he couldn’t
imagine there was a large enough buffer from the surrounding
turmoil to manufacture drugs.
Half the
city should be pounding down his door.
A
bicycle repair shop was next door, a row of shiny bicycles on
display. They were the mode of transportation New Yorkers
preferred. Everywhere he looked, people were pedalling bikes. Dan
pinched himself.
How’s this possible? It
hasn’t been
that
long since I was here last… has it?

The United
States of America had abandoned New York and now New York was
turning its back in reprisal. Dan saw people exchanging cash – real
cash, coins and paper that you could hold in your hands. And
gauging by the number of bikes, New Yorkers had snubbed their noses
at portals, which the rest of the world depended upon so
desperately.
Bikes are
good,
Dan thought, remembering Hans’s
warning. It was an eye-opening experience: nobody cowered in fear;
nobody eyed him suspiciously.
Nobody is
taking aim either,
he was happy to note.
None of the big brands had remained in New York after the bulk of
the population fled. There simply wasn’t enough money in the
community for them to leech off. But here, in the vacuum they’d
created, small operators had filled the void. New Yorkers had tired
of waiting for outside help and had created their own solution. The
city was actually prospering and it lifted Dan’s spirit, something
he desperately needed if only for a short time.
Perhaps there’s some basic good in humanity after
all.

A few street
entertainers were begging for loose change, but they weren’t
holding people at knifepoint. A pleasant change. New York had
bottomed out and clawed its way back from the gunk-filled
well.
And in remarkably short
time.
Dan hoped they could sustain their
newfound development, hoped they wouldn’t slide back into the
anarchy they were renowned for. He was unaware that, for the first
time ever, the two strongest factions were co-operating for the
benefit of all. And the positive effects were only just beginning
to germinate on the streets. Although they ruled autocratically,
they understood the basic principle that had eluded so many of
their predecessors. Their prosperity, and indeed survival, depended
on the prosperity of the city as a whole.