The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

“That again? Level with me. What’s up with this proto-African shit?”

“Listen, I just make my way, like every Solomon.” He seemed about to turn away, another attempt at deflecting Michael’s questions. But the red-haired pilot, no taller than Michael, didn’t let go of Michael’s stare. “Fine, Michael. Here’s the score. Thirty-nine colonies. Yes? Settled centuries ago. A plan called ethnic sovereignty. Different races, nationalities, given their own worlds. Sounds like a generous deal. Yes? It was actually about cleansing Earth of all but the Chancellors. In four hundred years, they moved three billion people off this planet. All the tribes they called the proto-Africans offered the biggest resistance.”

Michael’s stomach sank. “What happened to them?”

“What do you think? The ones that weren’t massacred left Earth. They colonized two worlds – Zwahili Kingdom and Moroccan Prime. Today, there aren’t ten thousand people on the entire African continent – and not a one of them looks like you.”

“Great. So, if I wanna meet another brother, I gotta go what – halfway across the damn galaxy?”

“Probably. There are a few among us Solomons. Their families had powerful connections during the colonial migrations, and their descendencies remained, but I haven’t seen one in three, four years. Michael, it’s not like they think of you as a threat. More like, you represent a bad memory. You remind them that everything they spent a millennium building is falling from their grasp.”

Rikard grabbed Michael by the arm and escorted him to the exit. He spoke to Brey.

“Nudge my stream when you finish. Tomelin and the Chief expect everyone in Mod4 for convocation.”

Brey nodded. “Ten minutes and I’ll have the data we need.”

They stepped outside the ship. Rikard kept his voice low.

“There’s no time to tell you everything, Michael. Just know this: We have a symbiotic relationship of sorts with the Chancellors, and it provides us with a comfortable lifestyle if we remain within our legal parameters. If they fear we are pushing the limit … remember, Michael: They are the masters.”

Another gut-punch. “Wait, what? You’re slaves?”

Rikard rolled his eyes. “No. We’re an attendant class. Skilled labor. Service. Design. Engineering. Transport. Agriculture. Michael, we make their lives seamless. They pay us well. We live well but own nothing.”

“Huh? You mean like, no house or car?”

“I don’t know what a car is, but we own no property, no land.”

“Sorry, dude, but that don’t sound like a sweet deal.” He backed away as he studied the giant compartment in which they stood. The rectangular design featured silver walls formed into roundels, the centers of which projected inches off the surface. The projections glowed, creating a milky light. “What the hell is this place?”

“Parking bay.”

“Oh,” Michael said. “You mean a garage?”

“Again, no idea what that is. Michael, I …”

Michael looked aft to see outside, sort of. A cascade barrier vibrated, creating what looked like a wall of illuminated dust. Beyond it, he saw vague outlines of buildings and flashing lights.

“Where are we, Rikard?”

“New Stockholm.”

“Huh? Stockholm? Like Sweden?”

“We’re still in the NAC. Just a few hours east, along the coast. Michael, I want you to …”

“Can I see it?” He pointed. “Out there. Is that a city?”

“Yes. The oldest in the NAC.” Rikard grabbed Michael and leaned in again. “Would you listen to me? Then I’ll show you the city. Yes?”

“Sure. Let me have it.”

“Michael, I’m trying to prepare you. Tomelin has not said it, but if she’s going to protect you without stowing you away, she must disguise you as a Solomon. They’ll set you up with the proper attire, limited stream conveyance, genetic library, the works.”

“Stream what?”

“Enough so you can get around until they slip you off-world. If they even can. I’m not sure Tomelin’s connections are as solid as she’d have us believe.”

Michael examined the t-shirt and jeans he wore since after the disaster in Alabama. “Dude, look. I mean, I reckon I need a fresh set of threads, right? And as for the rest … seriously, Rikard, why are you telling me all this? You never said a word to me until I woke up five minutes ago.”

Rikard started Michael toward the illuminated cascade barrier.

“Because I knew what you were from the start: A fool who showed up on the one planet where you can’t stay. And because I don’t enjoy being caught between Chancellors playing games with each other. There’s nothing in my contract about orbital slews and warring armies of mercs. I’m a pilot, not a peacekeeper. Tomelin and her lot are playing dangerous games, and people like us always find ourselves caught in the middle.” He pointed to the black scarring along the ship’s hull, a product of the slews. “You don’t deserve this, Michael. You should go into this with open eyes.”

Michael turned Rikard’s warning into a comforting blanket when he realized he wasn’t alone. Michael extended his hand.

“Thanks. I already knew these Chancellors were crazy mo-fos, but this helps. You got a last name?”

“Bryznewieski.”

“Cool. As long as I never have to spell it.”

“You are an odd specimen, Michael. Always with the quip.”

“There are worse ways to make a living. Am I right?” He raised his hand for a high-five. He pulled back at Rikard’s confusion. “I’ll teach you that someday. So, how about you show me the city?”

“A pleasure.” Rikard opened his stream amp and fingered codes that brought down the barrier.

Michael took in the urban kaleidoscope and exhaled.

“Sweetness.”

Giant spires with glowing arches rose hundreds of meters above a cityscape dominated by streetlights and roving laser streams that laid out New Stockholm in colored grids. Hums and whirrs rose from the elevated causeways that snaked between the tallest structures, each of which Michael thought looked more like religious temples than office buildings or skyscrapers. Once his eyes adjusted, he realized