Freedom Incorporated by Peter Tylee (me reader .txt) 📖

anarchy they were renowned for. He was unaware that, for the first time ever, the two strongest factions were cooperating 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.

It was sad to think that if New York developed much further the giga-corporations would take an interest, target the city with advertising campaigns, and try to weasel their way back into the economy by bumping local businesses from the bottom rungs. When they tried, for they surely would, the test of the locals’ integrity would begin. Would the ruling factions accept the devil’s invitation? Would they abandon the city they’d worked so hard to salvage from ruin? Giga-corporations would dangle unimaginable mountains of money in front of them if that were what it took to get a toehold. And from there it’d all be downhill. New York may eventually reintegrate with the rest of the country. A whimsical smile played on Dan’s lips. I hope the locals spit in their faces.

He was still marvelling at the miracle that was transforming New York when he reached PortaNet security. In many ways, PortaNet was the lifeblood of the capitalist world. People were so addicted to the company’s products that they would fight to keep the wheels turning. It was imperative that PortaNet had employees on call 24 hours, 365 days a year. A malfunctioning portal was a looming crisis - it deserved media attention! PortaNet therefore had an army of technicians crawling across the globe to maintain their equipment. And that army took a lot of co-ordination. It therefore wasn’t unreasonable to expect some degree of activity at PortaNet headquarters on the weekend. There was a digital sign welcoming pedestrians with company trivia. It read, “Did you know that PortaNet is the world’s biggest consumer of automobiles? When our reaction team responds to a portal malfunction emergency, we use old-fashioned transportation to get us there. That’s how we get you back online as soon as possible. PortaNet - keeping you connected.”

The sentinels eyed him with the hardened suspicion of seasoned guards working in the deadliest city in the world. The local population held nothing but animosity toward giga-corporations, which had abandoned them in their time of need. None of the guards was a local. After their shift, they portaled to snug little homes scattered around prettier parts of the country. For that, they were hated. And that made them weary of anyone who approached on foot.

“Can we help you sir.” His eyes narrowed to suspicious slits and he was ready to raise his automatic rifle at the first sign of trouble. He represented the security market that UniForce wished to conquer. But PortaNet, as with other giga-corporations, would need much convincing before relinquishing control of their personal security force to an outsider.

“I have an appointment,” Dan replied in his clearest, calmest voice. Americans had a tendency to disparage and distrust him for his accent. “With Adrian Miller.”

Adrian hadn’t yet risen high enough in PortaNet management for the guards to recognise his name. Dan understood the drill; the guards would first check the building’s roster to see whether Adrian was present. If he were, they would check with reception to confirm the appointment. Only then would they ask Dan to leave his weapons and escort him to the meeting. It was standard security procedure.

One of the guards fiddled with a handheld computer before shaking his head.

“Adrian Miller is not here sir. I suggest you get in touch with him and reconfirm the appointment.” Despite Dan’s poor choice of attire for a business meeting, the guard would never treat him with disrespect. What if he were an important man? PortaNet didn’t want to impart a poor impression of their company by allowing their guards to insult people. But nor would he budge from his position - the job demanded inflexibility.

That was fine with Dan, he had what he’d come for. He would’ve preferred to have somebody page him if Adrian turned up, but he knew that went against protocol so he didn’t even bother to ask. The guards would only decline; divulging the whereabouts of PortaNet personnel posed a significant security threat.

He coerced his face into a smile. “I’ll do that. Thanks for your time.” Then he turned and walked briskly away before their nerves snapped and their trigger fingers grew itchy. But I’ll be back. Somebody who worked there shared the guilt for his wife’s murder and he didn’t intend to rest until all those responsible had paid for their sins.

Dan almost enjoyed the stroll back to the station. The green fronds of life were slowly unfurling, right before his eyes. Maybe it’s worthwhile to hope after all. And, if he could hope for the salvation of humanity, he could hope to find Jen alive too.

His next stop was the only home address listed on Adrian’s file. It was a long shot, especially considering the file’s date, but in desperate times… Assuming the information was accurate, at some point Adrian had lived in one of the estates that had sprung up around the mountains near Cincinnati. It was rugged country but the past three decades had done a lot to tame it. By sheer weight of numbers, the new estates had transformed once-picturesque landscape into a giant suburban sprawl. A few acreages existed for the ultra-rich, but they were the exception rather than the rule. Without cities to concentrate human populations into tight wads, people were discovering there was precious little land to go around. Sixteen billion people were complaining about sixteen billion people. PortaNet’s publicly announced solution was to seed a new planet, and they spent trillions every year on space exploration to appease an angry population that had no better symbol at which to focus their fury. After all, before PortaNet introduced them to the convenience of instant transportation, they hadn’t noticed how crowded things were becoming. Now only the world’s wastelands, such as Dan’s property in the desert, were free of the hubbub. And such places, un-coincidentally, had the least attractive brochures.

Dan wasn’t in familiar territory. None of his forays into America had landed him near Cincinnati and he had to guess which portal station would be closest to his goal. He didn’t want to use PortaNet’s directory assistance, wishing to minimise his exposure to Echelon. But with help from the locals, he finally located the suburb, the street, and the house.

Impressive. It was a luxurious estate boasting lush hedges and ample lawn - pocket money for enterprising neighbourhood kids who’d started a mowing brigade. But nobody had mowed it for a while and tiny yellow wildflowers were fighting for sunshine amidst the cancerous grass. A swarm of insects was hopping from landing pad to landing pad, gorging on the nectar flowers used to pay for pollination services. Akin with many of the new housing developments, the estate had no drive or garage - it had arrived in the aftermath of the automobile craze. But it did have a garden path, which wove lazily toward the porch. Some habits died hard. Everyone wanted a front door, a path, and a gate.

No security. Dan arched an eyebrow. It made it less likely that Adrian Miller still lived at the premises. He rang the doorbell, one hand inconspicuously gripping his colt inside his coat. A late-20-something male answered the door. “Yes?”

No sense lying. “I’m looking for Adrian Miller.”

He looked Dan up and down. “You don’t look like one of his friends.”

“I’m his boss.” Dan lifted his chin to imitate conceit. “And if I don’t find him today he’ll have no job to return to Monday.”

He had the biggest set of jug-ears Dan had ever seen. They looked like sails, driving him forward against his will. “Then if you find him, you can tell him his half of the rent is overdue.”

“He hasn’t been around recently?” Dan squinted.

“Nope.” He didn’t look like a lover. Dan suspected he was a just a roommate, someone to help pay the bills and watch the TV with. He wore parachute-material tracksuit pants and a baggy sweatshirt. With white socks to complete the picture, he looked as if he were be about to go jogging. “He hasn’t really lived here for ages. A lot of his stuff is still here, but he only turns up, oh… maybe one night in six.”

“Do you know where he stays?” Dan tried to soften the pounding in his chest. He didn’t want to appear too desperate for the answer.

But the jug-eared roommate shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have the foggiest.”

“How about his mobile number? I left my agenda in the office and never got around to programming my employees into my phone.” The excuse sounded lame to Dan, but jug-ears took the bait.

“Yeah, sure. Wait a sec.” He ducked back into the house. Dan could see some furnishings from the door: spotless leather couches, a groomed carpet, plush rugs, and an ornate mirror in the foyer. “Here it is.” He slapped a torn corner of paper into Dan’s palm. “I tried it yesterday but didn’t get an answer.”

“Okay, thanks. If I find him I’ll tell him about the rent.” Dan backed from the house and showed himself to the gate, latching it behind him.

*

Sunday, September 19, 2066

5:42 Sydney, Australia

Samantha heard the phone; its shrill screech tugged her back to consciousness. But when she first woke, she was too weak to do anything about it. Cookie had wrapped his arms around her and she felt safe, warm and cosy in their nest. She just hoped the phone would stop.

After another few rings, it did. And she smiled into the peaceful night. It was wondrously quiet in their safe house; nobody in the neighbourhood had caused any problems, yet. She was just drifting back into slumber when the ear-piercing ring started again, more irritating that before. Damn, whoever it is, they’re desperate. All she wanted was to relish the peace. Why can’t they give me that?

She poked Cookie in the ribs and he grunted, shifting away from her and creating a crevasse of cold air that chilled her through her thin pyjamas. She snuggled deeper under the covers and frowned at the persistence of whoever was calling. It was up to the seventh ring already. She jabbed Cookie again and he snorted, half-snored, and rolled over once more. On her third attempt, she mercilessly stabbed him in his ribs and he woke with a jolt. “What?”

“The phone’s ringing.”

He relaxed. “So?” And rolled over.

“Well aren’t you going to get it?” Samantha prompted.

“Hadn’t planned on it.” Cookie took a deep breath and wriggled until he was comfortable, turning his back to her.

Samantha’s frown freshened. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep with the phone ringing for the rest of the night. It was up to its twelfth ring when she pulled back the covers and a wave of goose bumps prickled her skin. She padded on bare feet through the unfamiliar house, holding her hands protectively in front of her to guard against running into things. As it was, she stubbed a little toe on the couch and cursed luridly - and loudly. Eventually she squatted to answer the phone… half a second too late. Nobody was on the other end.

“Fuck.” She slammed the receiver onto its stand and rubbed feeling back into her toe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She was halfway back to bed when the phone screamed for her attention again, and she bit the inside of her check to stop from cussing at the top of her lungs. Amazingly, her voice was calm