Subterran

Part II: Deconstructing Industrial Waste - Chapters 24 - 27

"Oh, alright. I suppose it's a good idea," I said. "Do I have enough credits?"

"If not, you can always take out a loan. Analyzing now. Congratulations, Slim. You've got all the credits you need. Enjoy your new protection."

"Thanks, Miss. I will."

"My pleasure, Slim. Anyway you'll only need them for the next 48 hours. The sun is dying. Remember to move forward once you're done resting."

Night turned branches to menacing shadows and the welcoming ground to a frozen rock. No matter which way I folded into myself I couldn't get warm. Lauren was right—the sun was dying. And although I pressed a variety of shiny buttons on my acu-tank, she wouldn't speak again, wouldn't offer me a thermapad or a duvet or a space blanket trenchcoat. The damn thing always runs out of batteries right when you need it most, and I had to sleep to recharge it. But here there was only earth, not a building in sight, not a superstore or a chapel or a lovehouse, not a gym or a tapas bar or a bevhouse. There was no natural way to get heat into my body, like a snake, I was cold-blooded, another sacrifice made for the sake of other, more desirable tune-ups. I would freeze to death and it would be on record.

Salvation always comes in the form of a woman. This time it arrived wearing spike-heeled flip-flops and saddled across a neon green cow that galloped like a horse.

She was blonde and seven feet tall. Or maybe it was just her perch, or the cold affecting my vision.

"Hey there, are you out here alone?" she asked.

"Not anymore," I said. "I need a place to stay."

"Damn right you do, darlin'. You'll turn into a popsicle. Guess I'd better take you back with me."

"What are you doing riding out by yourself in the middle of the night?" I've been told countless times that women wandering alone at night is dangerous.

"My name's Jack-n-Jill and this land is free to me. I go wherever I want, whenever I want. What's your name, cutie?"

"I'm Jonah. I'm from WestGen and I've never been on the surface. I thought it was devastated."

"Lies. All lies, smoke and mirrors. Petey told me all about it. You'll meet him soon. He'll answer all your questions."

My arms around her firm waist, we rode into town just as light began to peek over the mountaintops. Along the journey I regaled her with impassionedly rehearsed stories of my life in the underground, of all the snazzy-jazzy treats and temptations I had been privy to in my thrice-recycled lifetime. She feigned interest at first but then the truth came out— she'd had seventeen husbands, was sick of men and now just wanted some baby back ribs and cornbread. What the hell, sounds good, I said. After all, business trips are just all-expenses-paid vacations.

Chapter Twenty Six

Mississippi mud wrestlers wanted for treason. Although the similarities between women and alligators are many, the League will not stand for deception and foul play.

Upper Terra was at the mercy of the shrinking sun and an abandoned economy. On the cow ride over, Jack-n-Jill told me how only a few years ago the land was called Japanerica, overridden with industry and covered in millions of tiny, cubed-shaped structures for live/work. In a way, it was not unlike Generik. But then they too had relocated underground, fearing the aging chemicals in the air and the pollution in the water—so saturated that it was impossible to purify it into a passable standard. They left behind their square fruits, their cherry blossoms and their little cameras. They took with them their beautiful women, their dying arts and their work ethic.