finish, South America clear-cut almost fifteen thousand square miles of rain forest. Couple that with an explosive failure during the maiden landing that killed everyone on board, then started a fire lasting for almost two weeks, and you can guess how well that went over.
Enter crazed environmentalists in Sydney Harbor.
The Australian government modified their plans real fast and erected the first viable Southern Hemisphere pad in the middle of the Simpson Desert under the watchful eye of whatever corrupt organization was running environmental building codes and park permits at the time.
It was a clusterfuck of fuck-ups, came in four billion dollars over budget and no one was happy about having the promise of expedited travel arrangements being sidetracked with a multi-day trip to the desert.
There are now no fewer than three brand new metropolitan areas in and around the Simpson Pad. I bet Oceania is so glad they decided to make that pad so far away from civilization so they could save the environment. Taught those world travelers a lesson.
Enter Texas.
Texas just doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks, but they do have a fair amount of their economy dependent on tourism so their solution to the planet pad hostility was to erect it right over the former Dallas downtown, standing on top of pillars that spanned almost a thousand feet up in the sky with the tallest skyscrapers acting as facade pillars of the foundation.
A new city was bustled into existence while the old one underneath was vacated or simply forgotten. The hanging railway dangles from the upper city, swaying wildly as the cars navigate the intricate highway system that fills the cavernous underbelly with noise non-stop, all day and night.
You gotta hand it to the Texans. They are a bunch of crazy bastards.
This started the Beautification Justification massive development period in the United Republics. Texas made the Dallas planet pad so out-of-this-fucking-world spectacular no one cared that eight million people were either displaced or worse, left underneath the topside city to wither away in darkness and poverty, out of sight and out of mind.
And this is where I stand now, under the beast, smoking a cigarette stolen from the jacket of a man in a government flier I was not supposed to be in, just before I entered a hotel I had no legal access to.
Layla was right to be impressed with the circuitry coursing through my body. My career in covert data-theft is just about to take off.
Dallas is exactly seven hundred and forty-five point four six miles from Council 3 and that's where I'm going. But first, some provisions and a well-deserved night off with an old friend.
John Hando. They call him Hand for short.
God, he's really beautiful. I say his name over and over in my head as his father Vincent introduces me to the other associates. I try and pay attention, I really do. But that John Hando is so fucking gorgeous I can't take my eyes off him.
He's staring back at me too and this makes my whole body tingle.
I drag my attention away from the boy and listen to the mission.
This is child's play.
"Just tell me who and where. I've got it covered." I take my attention back to Hand as the room erupts into chaos. They are not sure of me, and that's OK. I'm not quite sure of them either. But this John has me a little closer to the edge of being convinced. His brown eyes alone are deep enough to swim in and they are beckoning to me, they want me to come take a dip.
"I'll take him for backup." I point over to Hand and everyone stops. "You guys want a fucking resume? Or what? A demonstration? You just let me know. I got piano lessons tomorrow at 1300 so let's get this fucking show on the road. The last suborbital leaves at 0115 and I'd like to get some sleep tonight, so I gotta get a move on."
It's almost impossible for me to stop looking at his face, but I force myself to find Vincent Hando and take a deep breath.
"Piano lessons?" Vincent
Enter crazed environmentalists in Sydney Harbor.
The Australian government modified their plans real fast and erected the first viable Southern Hemisphere pad in the middle of the Simpson Desert under the watchful eye of whatever corrupt organization was running environmental building codes and park permits at the time.
It was a clusterfuck of fuck-ups, came in four billion dollars over budget and no one was happy about having the promise of expedited travel arrangements being sidetracked with a multi-day trip to the desert.
There are now no fewer than three brand new metropolitan areas in and around the Simpson Pad. I bet Oceania is so glad they decided to make that pad so far away from civilization so they could save the environment. Taught those world travelers a lesson.
Enter Texas.
Texas just doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks, but they do have a fair amount of their economy dependent on tourism so their solution to the planet pad hostility was to erect it right over the former Dallas downtown, standing on top of pillars that spanned almost a thousand feet up in the sky with the tallest skyscrapers acting as facade pillars of the foundation.
A new city was bustled into existence while the old one underneath was vacated or simply forgotten. The hanging railway dangles from the upper city, swaying wildly as the cars navigate the intricate highway system that fills the cavernous underbelly with noise non-stop, all day and night.
You gotta hand it to the Texans. They are a bunch of crazy bastards.
This started the Beautification Justification massive development period in the United Republics. Texas made the Dallas planet pad so out-of-this-fucking-world spectacular no one cared that eight million people were either displaced or worse, left underneath the topside city to wither away in darkness and poverty, out of sight and out of mind.
And this is where I stand now, under the beast, smoking a cigarette stolen from the jacket of a man in a government flier I was not supposed to be in, just before I entered a hotel I had no legal access to.
Layla was right to be impressed with the circuitry coursing through my body. My career in covert data-theft is just about to take off.
Dallas is exactly seven hundred and forty-five point four six miles from Council 3 and that's where I'm going. But first, some provisions and a well-deserved night off with an old friend.
John Hando. They call him Hand for short.
God, he's really beautiful. I say his name over and over in my head as his father Vincent introduces me to the other associates. I try and pay attention, I really do. But that John Hando is so fucking gorgeous I can't take my eyes off him.
He's staring back at me too and this makes my whole body tingle.
I drag my attention away from the boy and listen to the mission.
This is child's play.
"Just tell me who and where. I've got it covered." I take my attention back to Hand as the room erupts into chaos. They are not sure of me, and that's OK. I'm not quite sure of them either. But this John has me a little closer to the edge of being convinced. His brown eyes alone are deep enough to swim in and they are beckoning to me, they want me to come take a dip.
"I'll take him for backup." I point over to Hand and everyone stops. "You guys want a fucking resume? Or what? A demonstration? You just let me know. I got piano lessons tomorrow at 1300 so let's get this fucking show on the road. The last suborbital leaves at 0115 and I'd like to get some sleep tonight, so I gotta get a move on."
It's almost impossible for me to stop looking at his face, but I force myself to find Vincent Hando and take a deep breath.
"Piano lessons?" Vincent
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