The Impossible Future: Complete set Frank Kennedy (freenovel24 .TXT) 📖

the interplay of light and form halted, as if they set the city against a giant wall. Or perhaps …

“Is that the ocean? It’s so black.”

“Yes, Michael. The Atlantic.”

“Incredible. You know what’d be perfect? A full moon … the ocean like this giant ghost against the …”

Rikard voiced confusion. “Moon?”

“Yeah, dude. The big gray rock that revolves around …”

“Earth does not have a moon. There used to be myths about Luna. But I know little of pre-history.”

“Seriously? Damn. Guess you don’t miss it if you never had it. So, how old is New Stockholm?”

“Twenty-eight hundred years. The first Chancellory settlement in North America. A beautiful city. Yes. But I find it more satisfying at daytime. The architecture … how it blends a tribute to the old world and the new. You’ll understand. Sunrise is five hours away.”

Everything came into perspective. Michael remembered his last sunrise. The beach at Lake Vernon, saved by his best friend, still processing how he was even alive. Washing the blood away.

“First day on an alien planet called Earth,” he said. “This is nuts.”

A familiar voice rose from behind.

“Nuts, for sure. But also the most amazing day ever.”

Samantha bounded toward him, dressed in a pantsuit of green and magenta, similar to Dr. Tomelin’s uniform. She threw an arm over his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

“We’ve been through the worst, Michael. It’s all going to be better now. We’ve been making plans. We’ll find J before the day is out, and we’ll start the rest of our mission together. Just you wait.”

She joined him near the edge of the parking bay, staring at the city. Michael turned to Rikard. The pilot did not smile.

18

M ICHAEL KEPT A LEVEL HEAD when he entered the apartment next to the parking bay. Be chill, he told himself. Ain’t nothing special here. Just a place where some dude lives. He didn’t want to be the fanboy geeking over techno-marvels, so he played it serious.

The home offered a spectacular, 20th-floor view of the city, but the interiors fascinated him more. High vaulted ceiling, diagonal spotlights illuminating the room’s elaborate features. Inset aquarium 10 feet long and high. An entire wall of panels featuring sculptures, vases, paintings, and relics in dazzling colors and forms. An island in the center of it all from which sprouted a terrarium twice his height. Tropical trees, miniature palms, succulents, a rocky stream trickling between them. Songbirds flying - red, yellow, white.

Damnation. So, this is how Chancellors live.

Rikard leaned in, as if reading Michael’s thoughts.

“This landing is under charter to my husband Matthias. As I said, they pay us well.”

“Husband, huh? That’s cool. Where’s he?”

“On two-month service attachment in Hong Kong Prefecture. He builds these.” Rikard pointed to the natural island. “EarthIn, he calls them. He has clients booked a year ahead.”

“Very cool,” Michael said. “So, this ain’t a hologram?”

“Depends upon your perspective. Everything inside is natural, a fully-formed habitat. The flora grows at two percent its pace in the wild. But the birds see a jungle because of dimensional extenders.”

“Whatever you said, sounds cool.” He turned to Samantha. “Sweet digs. Am I right?”

“Beautiful,” she said.

“Your folks ever talk to you about the Solomons?”

“I think so.” She didn’t make eye contact with Rikard. “But mostly, they were concerned about the Chancellory.”

Rikard smirked. “I’ve never known a Chancellor concerned with anything else.”

The three stood together in awkward silence at the edge of the EarthIn, Michael in the center. He reached out to touch a palm frond, and his hand penetrated a magnetic barrier that flickered on contact.

“So, if I get your speed, those birds think this is a whole jungle, right? Can they see my hand?”

“Only what penetrates the barrier. They can’t see us.”

“That’s some impressive shit, right there.” Michael pulled back before he reached the level of fandom. “It’s like they’re living a fantasy. But all this …” He glanced about the room. “The real deal. Damn.”

Sammie interjected. “Michael, let’s talk with Ophelia and …”

He cut her short. “Tell me something, Rikard. Why are you called Solomons? And that symbol you wear on your shirt, it’s …”

“We’re named after the Chancellor who kept us from being cleansed: Foster Solomon. Toward the end of the colonial migrations, he recognized the need for a labor force. He brokered the deal we live by today. The ethnics who stayed behind became a protected class as long we supported the Chancellory, followed birth quotas, and agreed never to own property or seek governmental representation.”

“And that symbol?”

“Mr. Solomon’s family seal. His way of assuring immortality.”

“You have to wear it all the time?” When Rikard nodded, Michael sighed. “Dude, on my Earth, when people have to wear symbols on their clothes, ain’t nothing good coming of it.”

Sammie grabbed his arm. “Michael, you heard him. They made a deal. It’s a good arrangement for everybody.”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbled. “I reckon a Chancellor might say that.”

She squeezed his arm and pulled him away from Rikard.

“What is wrong with you, Michael? I know this hasn’t been what you expected, but we are trying to sort things out.”

“Who’s we?”

“All of us. This isn’t about Chancellors and Solomons. We came through the fold with a plan. Jamie’s plan. Remember?”

“Sure, but he was kind of vague on the details – and he’s … well, where he is, Sammie? Does Ophelia know?”

Sammie hesitated. “She says it’s complicated, but we’ll be able to find him before the day is out.”

“You’re not helping. And what about that admiral who knows I killed his son? He’s got J. So, what are we doing about that guy?”

“We’re getting there, Michael. I promise. Things don’t work the same way here as they did back home.”

He smiled. “Sure they do. There’s people