[Previous Case File: The Other Side of the Coin]
Winter awoke to the sound of the sanitation bots moving down the street. The hydraulic brakes would hiss and squeal, and then would come the sound of the worker’s boots hitting the tarmac.
Tuesday.
He pulled himself out of bed and looked at his wrist. “0623” shone through his skin.
Winter started his morning routine, which started with meditation for ten minutes. A knock on his door nearly made him jump out of his skin. He grabbed his pulstol (gun) and leveled it at the door.
“Deck? You ready?” Porter’s voice called from the other side of the door. Winter lowered the weapon and opened the door wide enough for Porter to side step in. “You’re still keeping it up? That’s impressive. Most people who try to live in a Faraday box end up tearing the walls and bleeding out.”
‘Bleeding out.’ Getting picked up for signal bleed.
“Can’t be too careful,” Winter replied. “What brings you here? You getting a delivery?”
“No actually. You’ve been here for a few weeks now, I wanted to know where your head was at?”
“You worried I’m going to turn you in?”
“Haha, maybe that first day. Now? Nah, you’re a Degen.”
“Thanks,” Winter said through a laugh.
Not what I thought I’d ever call myself.
His life in the BOT was fast becoming a distant memory. The paranoia that he was going to be found out was dissipating daily.
There was no denying that Degenopolis sat in a complete Dead Zone. Winter rarely engaged his OV since without the Flatline, his screen was filled with a pale yellow glow.
He was trying to understand more about the golden strands. Winter had never seen anything like them.
“You gonna stick around, you think?” Porter asked.
“Doesn’t seem like they’re that interested in having me back. Why? Did you hear something?” Winter asked, panic finding its familiar places in his brain.
“Nothing on the streams for weeks now. I think you’re safe,” Porter said.
Unless I step out of the umbra.
“So what’s going on, then?” Winter asked.
“Just so I’m clear, you’re not going back?” Porter asked.
“No, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The BOT would be on me pretty soon after I crossed back over.”
Back in the Flatline.
“Double time if the beacon re-activates,” Winter said, looking at the telecuff screen through his skin; the nanoLEDs producing a light blue aura.
He grabbed his Faraday sleeve off its hook and slipped it over his telecuffed arm. “No sleeve for you today?” Winter asked as he tightened the bicep strap on his own sleeve.
“Not on delivery days. Too much of a hassle taking it on and off. Only happens twice a month, knock on wood,” Porter said, tapping his head with his fist.
“What’s with the questions about ‘leaving’?”
“I’m not getting sentimental or anything if that’s what you’re driving at,” Porter said altogether unconvincingly.
“I wasn’t,” Winter said, holding up his hands defensively. “But it’s nice to know I’m valued.”
Winter led Porter out of his unit and towards the street. “Trolley’ll be here soon.”
“We’re not taking the trolley,” Porter said, dangling the key of his car.
Winter turned to see Porter’s cherry red Gracci Vento Veloce, a car that Winter may have been able to get when he retired, if he felt like trading his pension for a luxury car.
“Still can’t believe you have one of these,” Winter said as he opened the passenger door/hatch.
“You’ve never succumbed to an impulse buy?” Porter asked, sliding into the driver’s side.
“Not when it would’ve cleaned me out,” Winter responded, looking around at the high-end interior.
The seats were a tremor-resistant memory foam that made the ride feel like traveling via cloud.
Porter plunged the key into the ignition and scanned his telecuff.
“Where are we heading, Boss?” the car asked after the scanning chirped its completion.
“I will always be amused that your AI calls you ‘boss,’” Winter said.
“Just to the shop, please,” Porter said. The course was laid in, and the “engage” haptic appeared on the main monitor. Porter leaned forward slightly and tapped the screen.
As the liftoff sequence began, he sat back in his chair, “I never asked what the Government thinks about this little slice of heaven. Can’t imagine Sterling likes that his legacy has a Persian flaw.”
“You mean Mortimer Sterling?”
“Of course. The Old Man disappeared around ‘71. Come to find out he’s holed up at the family estate, like a hermit or something.”
Winter barely heard the elevator plate touch the tarmac.
Even the tire servos and axels sound smoother. I suppose they’d be better for what he paid.
The car started to climb to clearance height. “You think Old Man Sterling knew this Dead Zone would exist?”
“I don’t know, why?” Winter asked. “Are we just asking questions now?”
“Sorry, Deck,” Porter said, feigning apology. “You’re usually quite the inquisitive one.”
“But why are you asking questions?” Winter countered.
The car switched to its horizontal thrusters and began moving towards Porter’s shop.
“I’m just making conversation, Kid. Don’t read that much into it.”
The car hovered over the spot in front of the store and began descending. The landing was so gentle that Winter barely noticed that they had touched down.
“We have an inspection coming up, your friends come by every quarter to make sure I’m ‘on the level,’” Porter said.
“But you’re not?” Winter said/asked. “We never came out here. We’d never have left!”
“Not the BOT, bigwigs from the DoI. Even after 260 years, Washington loves its acronyms. Usually the just give a look over. My cousin works over at Energy, and my other cousin works at State, so if I get caught up, they know how to bury it, ” Porter said.
