NABC Book 2: Chapter 18: It’s Getting Worse
Book 2: Chapter 18: It’s Getting Worse
Book 2: Chapter 18: It’s Getting Worse
Riker
Sept 2172
Sol
A crowd stood outside the police lines. Hopeless faces, some crying; parents holding children by the hand, couples holding each other, wearing stricken looks. People who would be better off almost anywhere but here.
Sixty-three confirmed dead, so far. The apartment building, a run-down six-floor concrete structure with no balconies, now had a huge bite taken out of it at ground level. That it would have to be condemned was a given. I was more worried that it might fall over any moment, crushing everything nearby.
This wasn’t a great neighborhood. By almost any pre-war standards, it would be a slum. Buildings all had their own power systems since the invention of dependable fusion, but the streets were dirty, unlit, and covered with graffiti. Windows and doors at ground level had long since been reinforced or completely covered over. Stains ran down the sides of the structures from weather, deteriorating paint, and contributions from birds.
The people living in this favela hadn’t been significant in any way. They weren’t government, or military, or anything that would justify making them a target. Just people, probably unemployed, living on the edge of poverty. Most of them likely had no hope, no future, other than the possibility of eventual emigration to another star system.
“This is the third attack this month, Riker. And there has been no progress in catching the perpetrators. What assurances can you give me that something will be done?” Minister Benedito looked more spooked than angry. Very probably he was worried about his job. Still, this wasn’t the time to get my back up.
Today’s rant was about the sabotage and our inability to deal with it. I let my public avatar display alert interest, while I rolled my eyes in my VR.
He finally ran down, and I prepared to offer a response, but the minister from the Maldives beat me to it. And beating a computer to the punch was an impressive feat. I wondered if I should do a systems check.
The chair recognized Minister Sharma and she stood up. “I’d like to thank the minister for giving us a summary of his speech from last session. Which, if I recall, was also a summary from a previous speech. I’d be even more appreciative if it had been a prelude to some new information. Or at least witty. Minister Gerrold, you’ve obviously got a problem with the replicants. I’d like to ask you to take it offline, so we can get on with actual business.”
The attention lights blinked rapidly, the remote meeting’s equivalent of applause. Minister Gerrold’s face clouded up and he sat back, arms crossed.
I made a note to send Sharma a thank-you note. But she was right. He obviously had a pickle up his butt about replicants in general, and me in particular.
The next item on the agenda concerned the deteriorating climate. Several enclaves in the higher latitudes were approaching non-viability. Two ships, Exodus-4 and Exodus-5, were due to launch this month. The UN had confirmed that the island nations would be sent to Poseidon. The question on the table was whether we needed to switch the order of emigration, or whether we could just move the troubled enclaves into the vacated territories. Everyone had an opinion, and every opinion seemed to be different.
I leaned back and looked around. I’d just realized that Homer wasn’t here. He usually popped in to mock the UN meetings. I think I was starting to depend on his satirical take on things to get me through the tedium.
Looked like I’d have to get through this one the old-fashioned way. I activated sandbox Bob and handed off the video window. Freedom.