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

watched as residents detached balconies from their landings in these towers and descended to the park. Scrams, shuttles, and uplifts flew higher overhead, their green nacelles comparable to fireflies.

No story her father ever told, no heartfelt moment of nostalgia prepared Sammie for this.

“It’s so big,” she said, braced against the guardrails fronting Hamilton Park Plaza, inside which she became an official Chancellor. “I can’t breathe, Michael.”

He held her close, the same comforting arm there throughout the hearing. The Reclamation and Descendency Sanctum didn’t believe she was up to the challenge – Sammie saw it in their suspicious eyes. Yet they had no choice but to approve her. The credentials provided by Dr. Ophelia Tomelin and supported in person by her proxy, Dr. Talan Langdon, boosted her case. Only when they discussed the Americus Presidium – and their universal admiration of it – did the panel seem to drop its skepticism.

“I reckon this happens when dreams come true,” Michael said. “You look around and ask yourself, ‘Now what?’” He pointed northeast to SkyTower, which hogged most of the horizon. “Or, I reckon you could look at that damn piece of work for a while, and the city just ain’t so big anymore. Small potatoes, if you ask me.”

She tried looking up, made it to cloud level, then shifted quickly to the ground. It was true what they told her: SkyTower was disorienting, as if the rational brain wasn’t meant to process it.

“I wish he was here,” she said. “Maybe if I had tried harder, he might have seen there was a better way.”

“What, J? Nah, that ship sailed. You saw the look in his eyes.”

“Do you wonder what’s happening up there, Michael?”

“Up where? I can’t even see that high. And I’ll tell you one thing, sure as shit. You’ll never see my ass up there. They brag on it, but I don’t reckon that’s how God meant us to live.”

“I didn’t know you were religious.”

“First Baptist. Sometimes. Truth is, a man sees SkyTower, how can he not be religious?”

Sammie didn’t argue. She couldn’t imagine how she would gotten through the day without Michael. After the panel approved her claim, a legal advisor walked them through the next steps and provided both with TransComs. Michael, whose Earth residency might take weeks to finalize, compared the device to a smart watch on steroids. It delivered holographic communications and data. Yet it also contained everything they needed to set up temporary residency in the city before flying to one of Sammie’s properties. Throughout it all, Michael littered the room with questions and colloquialisms, flushing out any “Chancellor bullshit.” He was her brother, her guardian, her best friend.

“Thank you for everything today,” she said. “I needed you.”

He shrugged to a goofy smile. “Hey, just doing my bit, ya know?”

“It’s been a long day. Glad it’s almost over.”

“Hell, a long week. What day is this anyway?”

She looked over her shoulder. A few citizens – most colonial tourists – milled about the Overlook or checked into duopods, the open-air vehicles designed similar to the detachable balconies moving between the residential towers. Sammie had an idea.

“Before he left, Dr. Langdon said we should take a public duopod down to the park. Said it would be refreshing, especially before dinner. You’re probably hungry, too, but maybe it’s worth a try?”

“That Langdon was a strange bird, wasn’t he? Couldn’t wait to high-tail out of the city.” He examined the duopods. “Sure. I’m game. Langdon said the tourists rave about it. I’m guessing lots of these folks come from other planets. What you think they’d say about a fellow from another universe? Talk about your tourist!”

Sammie laughed, almost cried. She loved how the silly Michael from Albion did not disappear under the overwhelming trappings of this world. Yet she wondered how long he could keep it together.

The duopod operated with a code drawn from her TransCom. It offered six destinations. She let Michael choose, and away they flew.

It drifted silently westward, toward the fading sun and away from SkyTower. They sat back in cushioned comfort. The air was still.

“Sweet,” Michael said.

It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was everything they had not shared since they ran for their lives. For a while, they observed in silence, but Sammie studied Michael more than the city or the forest. The question nagging her all day cut the quiet.

“Michael, do you want to go home?”

He opened his mouth to speak, caught his words, and frowned as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Sure.” He looked away. “Doesn’t everybody wanna go home?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, can’t we just take this in? We go eat. Go to sleep.”

Sammie had to do this. If he stayed with her out of obligation, he would hate her. Dr. Langdon, in a quiet moment after the hearing, gave advice she needed to hear. He pointed to Rayna Tsukanova, whom he rescued in the Ukrainian Expanse and who grew angrier in his shuttle with each passing hour over the Atlantic.

“This is not his home,” Langdon advised. “This universe may kill him in spirit before it buries him. He deserves the option.”

She grabbed Michael’s hand and kissed it.

“I have money now. I can make sure we find the IDF. You’ll go home, and you’ll be safe with your family.”

He twisted his frown, as if she’d gone daffy.

“Safe? You mean after I finish explaining where I been and what happened? No. Not a chance.”

“Your parents love you. They can give you what this world can’t.”

“Maybe. But Sammie, they can’t make me forget what happened. They can’t make me forget about them damn bodies in Albion and Austin Springs and … you think anybody found Christian Bidwell yet? I put two bullets in him, and he’s probably out there rotting in the sun. Nobody deserves that shit.”