Memory Clouds (The Circuit Book 1), page 14
“LET GO!” screamed Jake, drawing everyone’s attention, including Sam’s, to him.
“They’re your feet.”
“But you’re making them move! Stop it!”
“No. Paddy signed the terms,” barked Job. “And you have to go through with it.”
“I’m logging a complaint right now!” screamed Jake as he shuffled ever closer to his new partner. “It’s going to be very long and peppered with swear words.”
“Your behaviour is extremely rude,” said Job bossily. “Sam’s come all this way to greet you.”
“And she’s going to take you BASE jumping,” added Dinah.
“I don’t think I’ll bother packing a parachute. I might just jump!” argued Jake as he struggled to reclaim the use of his legs.
“Oh look, she’s waving!” said Dinah, attempting to wave back.
In Jake’s state of panic, it didn’t strike him as odd that Dinah kept referring to Sam as a she, because he’d almost completely blanked her out. He looked up to find that Sam had turned off the sign and was striding confidently towards him.
Game over.
No escape from this one.
“Jake, welcome to Sweden,” said Sam, throwing his huge arms around Jake’s body and squeezing the air out of him. “You look exactly like your profile.”
“I wish I could say the same,” he wheezed. “I’m guessing you’re Sam’s brother, right?”
“Brother? Ha, that’s hilarious. They said you were funny.”
“Who did?”
“My guides. They’ve been analysing your memory feed to get insights about you from your friends and family. I’m sure you did the same, right? I bet you’ve managed to find out loads about me?”
“Almost nothing, it would appear.”
“What?” said Sam a little hurt. “You weren’t interested in learning more about me?”
“Of course, it’s just that…”
“What?”
“I don’t mean to sound rude,” replied Jake. “But you’re a…fella.”
“Obviously.”
“But that’s not what I saw in my letter. I saw a woman.”
“Really? Strange,” he said rather coyly. “Well, never mind.”
“What do you mean ‘never mind’? There’s been a terrible mistake. I’m not gay!”
“Rubbish, you must be.”
“I’m really not. I can show you pictures of the girlfriend I left in New Hampshire if you’d like me to prove it.”
“You don’t have to hide who and what you are now.”
“I’m not hiding anything, I promise you I’m not gay!”
“The Circuit seems to think you are, and they know everything about you. It must have been locked away deep inside you, until they found it,” he replied, ruffling Jake’s hair, not in the slightest bit concerned by his revelation.
“Sam, if that really is your name, my sexuality is not hiding anywhere. I’m sure you’re a great guy but something truly horrible has happened here.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s perfect.”
“I’M NOT GAY!” screamed Jake.
Anyone who wasn’t already listening to the conversation certainly was now. The crazy signs dimmed as people’s attentions were drawn from their real reasons for being there to one more interesting. Jake’s memory feed was suddenly swamped by self-help advice and adverts for products he’d never heard of that frightened the life out of him.
“Is Jake happy?” asked Dinah to Job, a little confused by the pair’s conversation.
“He’s never happy so I doubt he’s likely to be gay about anything,” huffed Job.
“But I’m gay,” announced Sam who still didn’t appear to see what the problem was. “I’m sure you’ll get used to the idea.”
“No! I’m not going to get used to the idea. Would you get used to it if they’d picked a woman for you?”
“You’re not a homophobe, are you?” answered Sam defensively.
“No, I have no problem at all with how people wish to go about their lives, I just want others to be tolerant to my choices also.”
“That’s ok, then.”
“No, it’s not!”
“One of my guides is telling me to stop causing a scene,” whispered Sam assertively. “He’s suggesting we sort this out at home?”
“I like the sound of her guide,” said Brother Job in agreement. “Find out what he’s called.”
“Find out for yourself!”
“Come on,” said Sam. “It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, is it?”
Reluctantly Jake had to agree. He was thousands of miles from home, knew no one this side of the Atlantic, and every movement he took was being tracked by the Circuit. What alternative did he have? Camp here in the Hyperloop Port until someone granted him squatters rights? There had to be a way out of this dilemma. Surely even the Circuit had a process for appeals when they made genuine mistakes. All he had to do was find out how to do it. Sam attempted to take Jake by the hand, but he ripped it away before Sam got a firm grip.
“Stop!”
“Too early,” said Sam.
“Let’s get something straight right away,” stressed Jake candidly. “There will be no hand-holding, no hugging, no smacks on bums, no kissing, no groping, no inappropriate touching and no verbal innuendo. Do I make myself clear? I have boundaries and I’d ask that you don’t cross them.”
“Ok. But you said nothing about getting naked together, right?”
“Add that to the list and anything else that’s going through your sordid mind. If you’re in any doubt whatsoever it’s probably on the list.”
“Fun sponge,” replied Sam who seemed to be perversely enjoying Jake’s misery.
“I appreciate none of this is your fault, Sam, and that today is also your Ascension Day, but I cannot spend my life living with a man.”
“You lived with your dad for years, didn’t you?”
“Which is definitely not the same.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
The two eighteen-year-olds stood silently for an awkward moment, both disappointed by the outcome of their meeting and neither quite sure what to do next.
“What are we supposed to do now, Job?” asked Jake.
“Job?” asked Sam with a wink.
“Also, on the list,” added Jake as soon as he realised his new partner’s misinterpretation. “Brother Job is one of my guides.”
“You need to get out of the Arrivals Hall and head to his place,” replied Job.
“There’s no other option?”
“No.”
“Fine,” he replied reluctantly. “Where in Malmö do you live, Sam?”
“My house is out in the countryside, about an hour away from here. As you’ll see in a minute there’s not much left of Malmö since the sea rose.”
“Do you have trams that go that way?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, then,” huffed Jake. “Then we can try to sort this mess out.”
“We’re not going by tram,” replied Sam.
“How else are we going to get there?”
“In the same way I came to pick you up.”
“Which is?”
“A solar-powered quadcopter.”
“A what?”
“You’ll see!”
Jake didn’t need to wait. He immediately searched for the strange-sounding device in his cloud. There were no personal memories available because he’d never heard of one, let alone witnessed such a thing for himself. There were plenty of other people who had, though. A quadcopter had a central pod that carried at most two passengers and flew with the aid of four propellers that jutted out on arms like points of a compass. Covered in solar panels it could reach a hundred miles an hour in daylight and an altitude of five thousand metres.
“I see you’re interested in the Mark IV quadcopter from Starbucks, Jake?” said an attractive redhead who’d infiltrated the vision rather masterfully.
“Starbucks? I thought they made cophony?” he said, a little confused.
“All organisations have to diversify and there’s not much money to be made in cophony these days. Now hold still while I vet you for suitability…ah yeah, this is a waste of my time. You’re superfluous, there’s no way you’d be able to afford…or be allowed to own a quadcopter,” she said, evaporating from view.
“Jesus, Sam, how did you manage to get one?” replied Jake, letting his guard down and finding his companion a lot more fascinating than his initial impression.
“Oh, life’s been good to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t like to brag about it, but I’m quite well off.”
“But you’re only eighteen, and from what I’ve read only essential.”
“I wouldn’t believe everything you read,” he said with a wink.
“Isn’t that the truth?” agreed Jake.
- Chapter 13 -
Quirks and Quadcopters
Sam’s quadcopter was parked in a disused car park about a mile from the Hyperloop terminal. It was only reachable by foot and Jake accepted the reality readily. Having spent much of the day strapped to a bed or queuing for the privilege to do so, his body was desperate for exercise. Jake loved nothing more than to walk in the tranquillity of nature; the soft sandy beaches near his home, climbing in the foothills of New Hampshire or paddling in the bubbling streams that curved their way through the White Mountain National Park.
There was no comparison between those places and this sterile stroll, but that didn’t mean it lacked highlights.
It was evident from his surroundings that Sweden had borne a heavy price from the climate catastrophe that struck the world more than a decade ago. Even though he was very young at the time, Jake remembered it with a little aid from his cloud. There wasn’t a specific memory that visualised the event, because in truth it didn’t happen like that. The environment changed over an extended period of time, culminating in the radical actions of the scientific community at the dawn of the twenty-forties. Actions that came too late and with unintended consequences.
The crisis facing the world had been long in the making. For more than nine decades the subject had been exhaustively discussed and avoided. The scientists agreed on the problem, but the politicians, desperate to cling to power and uphold the false economics that drove growth in the twentieth century, flatly refused to act unilaterally. At best they’d offered platitudes and at worst denied the evidence completely. Experts were pilloried as prophets of doom rather than highly acclaimed thought leaders. The powerful laughed off the threats and predictions.
But no one was laughing now.
Like a homeowner who refuses to buy insurance because the worst will never happen, the world’s house was flooded, and everyone regretted their blindness. Once the genie is out of the bottle, he’s very difficult to put back in. Although a genie does offer wishes, you have to know what to wish for. Sadly no one really did.
The polar ice caps continued to melt at record speeds and inevitably the sea level rose as a result. Compared to the turn of the century, oceans were already more than fifty metres higher. Some of the nations responsible for a failure to act were submerged by the tides. Only then, like a death row captive desperately seeking clemency on the Day of Judgement, did they demand action. Industry, the main culprit for much of the planet’s ill health, offered a solution. It seemed counter-intuitive to pass them the baton when they’d spent so long dropping it.
Their answer was a form of geoengineering dubbed CLEAR SKY.
A plan, with about as much proof-of-concept as those offering evidence for a flat Earth, was rushed into action. Scientists had concluded that if small particles of sulphur dioxide gas were fired into the atmosphere it would promote a cooling process to curb the worst of the rising temperatures and save more countries from claiming to be the new site of Atlantis. In the long run, probably several decades, they claimed this united action would also slowly lower temperatures to normal levels. Manufacturers went to work building specially designed systems for delivering the particles into the air. Every country endorsed the project in a rare moment of consensus. There was only one problem.
It didn’t work.
Only some of the world got cooler.
Areas above and below the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn saw a gentle reduction in annual temperatures and as a consequence an improvement in the conditions needed to grow vital crops. Everywhere else saw an increase in temperature that turned the land arid and the environment inhospitable to life. The sulphur particles combined with water vapour that diffused the sunlight and created a continual haze that affected much of the world. Much like the effect of a massive volcanic eruption, the world experienced erratic weather patterns, the now common sulphurous cloud cover and a renaming of the seasons to reflect a new norm.
Nature had been screwed with.
Nature didn’t like it much.
No one acknowledged the failure. Environmental side effects were labelled temporary and worth the sacrifice. The opinion polls showed an overwhelming approval for the company responsible for the geoengineering strategy. The same company that owned ninety percent of the world’s public companies and was responsible for running the polls.
The Circuit.
The scenery around Malmö proved their strategy was not universally successful or applauded. Roof apexes, attached to long-submerged family homes and businesses, cut through the waterline. Gentle ripples, powered by deep currents, washed up and over chimneys to be recycled in the murky abyss of hidden rooms and corridors. The road they were on was only just above the water, but Jake suspected it once had a life as an elevated freeway linking the city and the airport.
Here and there solitary islands held back the inevitable path of the sea. Freakish patches of land that had the audacity to exist on a plane slightly higher than the rising tide. Nothing lived there. The earthy soil may have survived the reclamation, but humans, vegetation and animals had given up hope long ago.
Above their heads the sky seethed with a layer of cloud that swamped the heavens like a swarm of angry locusts. Distinct patches of yellow and grey, sulphurous and natural condensation battled like Greek Gods for dominion over the lower atmosphere. The only proof that the sun still existed was the hazy pallor of a once bright star unable to penetrate the clouds for a fear of being mocked.
Then there was the local temperature.
He’d been warned.
The advice hadn’t been strong enough.
The only experience Jake had of cold this intense was swimming in the mountain streams of upstate New Hampshire, but even that was warm in comparison. This was a mutated coldness that robbed you of the ability to speak coherently, permeated internal bodyparts you didn’t know you had and questioned whether you were anatomically still a boy. If the geoengineers had successfully raised the temperature in this region of the world he shuddered to think what it was like before.
The more they walked, the harder it became to function normally. The cold was causing vital functions to freeze and fail. Even though Sam wore less clothes than Jake did in summer, it didn’t affect him, as if his sense of touch had stopped working.
“Aren’t you cold?” chattered Jake.
“Flipping freezing!” responded Dinah, who’d made a significant outfit change that included several additional layers, Arctic boots, three snoods and a fluffy deerstalker. All of them lilac-coloured.
“Cold?” said Sam stopping briefly to reassure himself he was outside. “Is it? This is pretty mild for this time of year.”
“Miiillllddd,” gasped Jake.
“Yeah, you’re lucky. It was a lot colder here last week.”
Jake hadn’t been lucky for some considerable time and he wasn’t accepting any suggestion that his fortunes had changed.
“You’ll be warmer soon, there’s the quadcopter.”
Sam pressed on keys concealed somewhere about his person and the machine made a strange bleeping noise before its lights flashed in welcome. Sam gave it a little pat as if it were a beloved pet.
“This is Maisy,” he said full of pride. “Beauty, isn’t she?”
Jake hadn’t seen a real one before so didn’t feel qualified to judge. He nodded politely and hoped his muted reaction would suffice.
“Jump in, she’s heated.”
“She,” scoffed Jake through vibrating teeth. “I don’t believe anything anymore.”
Sam opened the gull-wing doors to reveal a myriad of dials, gadgets and levers set in a futuristic-looking dashboard. The driver’s seat crumpled forward to reveal a passenger seat hidden behind. Jake scrambled in before his blood turned to a solid. It was an extremely cramped space for a man like Jake who was much taller than average and would never be described as petit. The cabin was mostly see-through so at least he’d be able to watch the journey pass from his squashed-up spot. Sam shut the door and warmth slowly returned to flesh and feeling.
“How does it work?” asked Jake once the power of speech had rediscovered its normal frequency.
“Solar-powered.”
“But…there’s no sun!”
“There’s enough for Maisy. The sun may not be out, but its power still seeps down through the clouds to charge the batteries. Maisy’s equipped with the very latest in solar technology. They need much less input to work these days.”
“How did you afford one? Rich parents?”
“No. My parents died when I was young. They didn’t leave me anything,” said Sam.
“How, then?” asked Jake.
“My work.”
“But these things cost tens of millions of credits. What’s your job, do you own the Circuit or something?!” said Jake, awestruck by anyone who owned something this rare, let alone someone who’d only reached eighteen on the same day as him.
“No, I don’t believe anyone owns the Circuit.”
“What do you do, then?”
“I’m a genius,” he said casually. “Now hold tight, you might feel a little jolt.”
