Jericho 02-01

Chapter 2:

            I wasn’t sure if Ms. Arch was human.

            As she sat across the table, going over the final details of my transfer to the Center with my mother, she seemed wholly robotic.

            Her grey suit was perfectly pressed, with no variations in hue or texture to be found. Her slick hair looked as if it had been molded from a single piece of plastic, and she had a kind of cheerful disposition that could only have been created in a lab.

            “Will he be able to call home?” my mother was saying

            “Certainly,” Ms. Arch chirped, “We already have your direct line on file so all Jason must do is ask the computer to call you and you will be immediately connected. We encourage all students to call home at least once a week.”

            This was nearly word for word what the brochure said, although she did leave out the part about potential censorship.

            “And if you have no further questions I think it is time for Jason and I to leave.”

            My mother nodded and stood, eyes welling up with tears.

            “I guess this is it,” her voice cracked, “my little boy is leaving.”

            She threw her arms around me and sobbed for a bit, using my shirt as a tissue. “I’m so proud of you” she whispered through the tears, “you are going to do great things.”

            This broke me.

            The last ice cube of hatred and animosity I had held for my mother over the past few weeks melted entirely as I was consumed by her arms.

            The memories of it all came flooding back to me, during a childhood spent playing in parks, swimming in pools, and riding my bike, she had been there to heal every scraped knee or bruised elbow. She had cheered me on at every science fair and comforted me when my feelings were hurt. She read me bedtime stories about the stars and held my hand when I was afraid.

            “I love you Mom” was all I managed to say before I let myself cry like a toddler. I didn’t care that Ms. Arch’s little robotic eyes were carefully recording my breakdown, I would never have another chance to hug my mother and I wasn’t going to waste it.

           

***

            After that emotional goodbye Ms. Arch herded me off to our ride, a gleaming silver bullet of a car with government flags flanking either end hovered just above the paved road.

            Cars were a rarity on Earth 2, fliers were a far more popular mode of transport for those who had the means, but the average citizen usually took public transit or rode a bicycle to get from place to place.

            I hated flying. Ever since I was young the feeling of being up in the air made my stomach churn, and every attempt to fly with me turned into a festival of unsightly fountains of half digested food. My family eventually stopped trying to take me places by air and resigned themselves to travelling only by bike or train, and gave up all hope of ever vacationing off world. It was only with the addition of Pete that the flier space in our garage was filled up once again.

            “Your file said you had flight sickness, so I arranged for more suitable transportation.” Ms. Arch said cheerfully as she held the door for me, “after you please.”

            The inside of the car was much roomier than the inside of the average flier, with a long couch like seat and windows that offered a panoramic view of the outside world.

            I chose a seat near the middle and buckled in while Ms. Arch placed herself near the door.

            “Would you like anything? Water? Tea?” She asked politely, folding her hands across her lap. I saw the car lurch forward and begin our journey, hurtling through the suburban streets at speeds much higher than any bike could muster, but inside the vehicle there was no sign of motion at all.

            “It is going to take six hours for us to reach the Center so if you should want anything during the trip just ask the computer and it will be prepared for you” to demonstrate this she then placed an order for some hot tea with a slice of lemon and a blueberry scone. There was a flurry of whirring and clicking noises, followed by a small popping sound as a small door opened and a robotic limb carrying a small tray handed Ms. Arch her order.

            “This car is fully equipped with the latest in food printermixers, so it can make just about anything. You’ll find the same technology in the dining lounge at school,” she explained, setting the tray on the seat next to her, “but we also have a gourmet menu of traditionally prepared food available if you prefer.”

            Hesitantly I placed an order for a glass of orange juice.

            Printermixers were exactly what they sounded like, devices that used knowledge of chemical make up and a supply of flavorless slurry to print food on a nearly atomic scale. They were still a fairly new technology, and the ones sold in stores currently had only a very basic range of food they could prepare.

            I had never tried printed food before; my Mother had a fondness for cooking so it had never been necessary; I was intrigued by the prospect of manufactured food.

            The tiny chorus of mechanical clicks began it’s magic and soon enough a small electronic arm was handing me my glass of orange juice.

            The taste was strange. At first it seemed like any normal glass of orange juice that I would have at home, but sweeter, then came an aftertaste I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t bad, just… manufactured?

            Ms. Arch must have noticed something in my face because she opened her mouth to make a comment, which she punctuated with a perfectly timed giggle. “Yes, it does take some getting used to.”

            She smiled and grabbed a tablet from her purse saying “Now, before we reach the Center there are a few things I am required to go over…”

            I tuned out right about here, it wasn’t that what she said wouldn’t be important, it was just that, at that moment we hit the city limits and I had one good final look at my hometown.

            Churchill was the second largest city on Earth 2, the buildings all had the appearance of mirrored spires and reflected the mountains that lined the northern border in strange and beautiful twisted shapes. The colors here were natures finest, the grass was green, the rivers clear to their rocky bottoms, the mountains a perfect shade of indigo with caps of snow and blue ice. Even the man made structures were made to keep the natural flow. The streets were made of that same indigo rock that formed so much of our mountains and the buildings were mirrored to reflect the sky back to us. In the sky above fliers swooped like birds, perching on various buildings, while people on bicycles swam like fish in the streets below.

            I wondered what Galton would be like.

            I mean, I knew from reading and watching reports and TV shows that it was hotter, larger, and older than Churchill. I knew that the architecture was white and blocky, and that the streets were overflowing with people. I heard that the sky could be so full of fliers that it would look like night in the middle of the day, but I didn’t know Galton.


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This is pretty much unedited -KayPee