golden one from his breast pocket and held it up for me to see. I inched upwind as he lit the cigarette.
Val took a long drag, pivoted on the spot, and headed for the station without bothering to give the explanation I asked for. I threw my hands up and let them fall back at my side. His attitude was starting to get under my skin, but I followed after him, anyway. “Great, you’ve got your cancer stick. Now, what’s the plan?”
Val alternated between lungfuls of smoke and details about his plan. “The guy on the train, the one whose room I was in, he’s carrying something. Our governor ordered himself a pretty little toy which cost a lot of our pretty little tax dollars. We’re going to get a hold of it first and make some alterations before delivering it to Granne ourselves.”
“Wow, could you be any more vague?”
“Is that a challenge?”
I probably should have been annoyed, but his reply caught me so off guard, all I could do was laugh. As much as I hated a smart-ass, I appreciated someone who had quick wit. It was a trait that most of the people I surrounded myself with had washed out of them through detestation programs or post-traumatic stress. Maybe Val wouldn’t be completely terrible to work with after all.
King Street Station—Seattle, WA
Tuesday, November 10th, 2076—11:35 a.m.
he train station had undergone few renovations since its original construction. Dated lighting fixtures, with almost half the bulbs burnt out, hung overhead and swayed slightly in the drafty lobby. Warped, rusty luggage carts were guarded by an old man in a navy blue station uniform, who seemed to have nodded off in his chair.
Val led me to set of escalators in the center of the room where the tile floor had been crudely broken away. A couple lights were strung along the mouth of the cavern and flickered every few seconds when the escalators screeched for maintenance. Val stopped in his tracks a few feet from the escalator to pull out his phone. He seemed to be busy composing a text, so I decided to go on ahead to explore. As I stepped forward to board the escalator though, Val grabbed my arm and stopped me. I was confused at first, but a second later, a large gap in the moving stairs appeared. Apparently, three escalator panels were missing, and the city didn’t feel the need to fix them. Charming.
When solid steps reappeared, Val stepped out first and gestured for me to follow. He stomped on the one above him to show it wasn’t going to fall under my weight. “Get used to this sort of stuff. The underground is every bit as unappealing as it sounds,” Val warned. “And we certainly don’t carry fancy purses.”
I sighed. I’d carried the same bag for years. It had been through all seven continents, up mountains and through trenches, over and into oceans, and had never once caused me a lick of mockery until now. “It’s a messenger bag,” I insisted. “It’s for men.”
“Mhmm,” he hummed dismissively.
We descended into a large room, everything lit up in a warm, orange hue. It resembled the train station above with its vintage feel and vaulted ceilings, but it seemed to be better maintained. This must have been where the habitable part of Seattle began. Cream colored tiles clacked under hurried feet of people rushing through the station. The sound of chattering voices and a hum of machinery created a melancholy city din, which echoed off the murky, brown walls. Slowly, I realized just how foreboding everything around me felt without sunlight or windows to the world above.
A sudden hiss made my heart jump. I leaned over the moving guardrail and saw steam fizzling out of nozzles along the escalator. “Powered by steam?” I asked.
“Whatever is leftover from the net. That’s why this thing is so shaky.” Val gave the guardrail a pat. “You’ve caught us at the coldest time of year. You’re lucky it’s running at all.”
I was relieved to set foot on solid ground again, even if said solid
Val took a long drag, pivoted on the spot, and headed for the station without bothering to give the explanation I asked for. I threw my hands up and let them fall back at my side. His attitude was starting to get under my skin, but I followed after him, anyway. “Great, you’ve got your cancer stick. Now, what’s the plan?”
Val alternated between lungfuls of smoke and details about his plan. “The guy on the train, the one whose room I was in, he’s carrying something. Our governor ordered himself a pretty little toy which cost a lot of our pretty little tax dollars. We’re going to get a hold of it first and make some alterations before delivering it to Granne ourselves.”
“Wow, could you be any more vague?”
“Is that a challenge?”
I probably should have been annoyed, but his reply caught me so off guard, all I could do was laugh. As much as I hated a smart-ass, I appreciated someone who had quick wit. It was a trait that most of the people I surrounded myself with had washed out of them through detestation programs or post-traumatic stress. Maybe Val wouldn’t be completely terrible to work with after all.
King Street Station—Seattle, WA
Tuesday, November 10th, 2076—11:35 a.m.
he train station had undergone few renovations since its original construction. Dated lighting fixtures, with almost half the bulbs burnt out, hung overhead and swayed slightly in the drafty lobby. Warped, rusty luggage carts were guarded by an old man in a navy blue station uniform, who seemed to have nodded off in his chair.
Val led me to set of escalators in the center of the room where the tile floor had been crudely broken away. A couple lights were strung along the mouth of the cavern and flickered every few seconds when the escalators screeched for maintenance. Val stopped in his tracks a few feet from the escalator to pull out his phone. He seemed to be busy composing a text, so I decided to go on ahead to explore. As I stepped forward to board the escalator though, Val grabbed my arm and stopped me. I was confused at first, but a second later, a large gap in the moving stairs appeared. Apparently, three escalator panels were missing, and the city didn’t feel the need to fix them. Charming.
When solid steps reappeared, Val stepped out first and gestured for me to follow. He stomped on the one above him to show it wasn’t going to fall under my weight. “Get used to this sort of stuff. The underground is every bit as unappealing as it sounds,” Val warned. “And we certainly don’t carry fancy purses.”
I sighed. I’d carried the same bag for years. It had been through all seven continents, up mountains and through trenches, over and into oceans, and had never once caused me a lick of mockery until now. “It’s a messenger bag,” I insisted. “It’s for men.”
“Mhmm,” he hummed dismissively.
We descended into a large room, everything lit up in a warm, orange hue. It resembled the train station above with its vintage feel and vaulted ceilings, but it seemed to be better maintained. This must have been where the habitable part of Seattle began. Cream colored tiles clacked under hurried feet of people rushing through the station. The sound of chattering voices and a hum of machinery created a melancholy city din, which echoed off the murky, brown walls. Slowly, I realized just how foreboding everything around me felt without sunlight or windows to the world above.
A sudden hiss made my heart jump. I leaned over the moving guardrail and saw steam fizzling out of nozzles along the escalator. “Powered by steam?” I asked.
“Whatever is leftover from the net. That’s why this thing is so shaky.” Val gave the guardrail a pat. “You’ve caught us at the coldest time of year. You’re lucky it’s running at all.”
I was relieved to set foot on solid ground again, even if said solid
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