The Global Fellowship: Prelude to The Infinitus Saga

3 - The Crossing

I'm finally taking control of my own life instead of just letting everything happen to me.

The wind is a steady chill against my neck, and I shiver beneath the overcast sky threatening rain. I've never handled hot or cold very well, and I'm sure as hell not used to being outdoors. Bits of plastic from ages past rustle as they pass me, carried by the breeze from one place to another forever—until someone catches a tiny piece of danger to dispose of it. I really should try but they're moving too fast.

A few kids are playing dodgeball in the street ahead, but the two that I know are absorbed in the game. They're arguing over whether the charger they found will work for the ball when its battery runs down. A couple blocks down, a little girl—maybe six—is begging a woman for something to eat, but the woman isn't answering. She looks like she might be a heavy stunner, but it could be chems. I wish I had something to give the kid.

I decide to go to the clinic in District S because Tommy's is in District T. If Gina or Stella see me while I'm still struggling to get there, we'll just end up in a fight.

As I hobble my way down the old cracked and pitted, textured-glass streets, I try to distract myself from the pinch and throb of each step. I can't believe I'm actually escaping the Dregs, one of the largest God-forsaken shirker camps in Central Continent. Mom says this ancient city was prosperous centuries ago—before the wars—because it sat at the intersection of trade routes and major rivers. Now it sits abandoned between Sectors 10 and 11.

We use the crumbling buildings like homes, and there are enough options for most people to pick their own rooms. Around the barrel fires, people here tell stories about the old shipping containers or abandoned mining tunnels they've lived in. It used to make me thankful we had it so good, before I understood how freakin' well Community citizens live.

Once again, I remember Yeon-Jae's tanned, amazingly-wrinkled face. Every time I was more than fed up with the misery of this place, she'd shush me, look me in the eyes and say, "Remember you're lucky, Arthur. Many people in this world have a place to stay. Very few have homes." She's as crazy as Rob.

Even though most shirkers are wanderers, my family has called the Dregs home for as long as I can remember. Dad spent his life telling the shirkers here all about a God the world stopped believing in centuries ago. A lot of good that did.

Now I look up at the ruined building Gina was trying to convince Mom and Dad to move into. I can tell it's the one because it still has an old tower at the top. God, it makes me sick to think she actually wants to live there. It's at least ten stories taller than the other buildings, but the middle floors look like they might be open to bad weather. Gina was telling us there's a local guy who thinks one of the first-floor bathrooms is still connected to the District S water and sewer system. He told her he might be able to get it working. Even as close as it is to Community housing, here on the border of the district, the Community won't let something like that slide.

Everything will be different now though. This new life will be all I've ever wanted—running water, fresh-cooked meals, and most of all something to help this constant agony. I've heard that even the most basic Community apartments have a sink with running water, a real freakin' toilet, and a shower. After I'm set up, I'll get Gina to sneak in and try it out—even she won't be able to turn down a hot shower. I'm finally going to enjoy everything the Community has to offer, and I'll be carrying my own weight.

Ha! That's stupidly ironic when I can barely shoulder this backpack. I should have left my crap at home to retrieve later, but I wanted a clean break.

The crosswalk beneath me bridges the Dregs and civilization. Real excitement builds in my gut, even over the pain. I've been here before, but it's shocking to see the sudden change from ruin and putrid filth to clean well-maintained streets and buildings. It's like someone drew an imaginary line across the landscape, almost like in fiction books, that when you cross you enter another world. The crosswalk is illuminated inside the road glass. The little lights activate in front of me, one foot at a time, until I've crossed the road safely.

I'll come back for Gina when I can show her that she doesn't need to take care of me anymore. Without me, she'll be able to support herself; she won't need Prince Drustan to save her either.

The bone-deep ache in my legs, back, and shoulders escalates steadily to a shrill pitch, but I can't stop to rest. If I do, I'll lose my momentum, stiffen up, and won't be able to get started again. I focus on turning the pain into white noise, and the effort keeps me from worrying or second-guessing. I've walked so far now; I'd never make it back if I turned around.

Just a few more blocks.

~~~

After what seems like hours, relief washes over me as I catch sight of the clinic. The sun glints off the tall, blocky building's shiny marble exterior. There are curved metal benches outside, and a couple of small patches of pristine, green grass. It all looks so perfect.

Shit. My brief flare of hope breaks my focus and doubles my awareness of the pain.

When I reach the front door, it opens automatically, and as I enter, a warm wall of air welcomes my wind-bitten cheeks.—God, I hate the fall.—I don't have a Citizen's ID, or CID, yet for the building to register when I walk in, so I know I'm immediately flagged as a shirker. I'll get one when my brain is wetwired and registered. After that, I'll be able to access the GRID and function as a server for several hours a day to earn GRIDcoin.

The waiting area has a couple of dozen mauve chairs lined up in neat rows, with a single door to ADMITTING and several self-service kiosks along the wall. Most of the people in here are wearing the same clothing, jeans and white t-shirts. Many of them are staring at me. I guess I look dirty. Do I smell? I wish I'd found that cleaner shirt. I try to ignore them as I head for a kiosk.

GOOD AFTERNOON, it chirps in a cheery voice. WHAT ARE YOUR NEEDS TODAY? I quickly touch the box for PRIVATE MODE. I don't need everybody listening in on my crap.

I select JOIN/REJOIN THE GLOBAL FELLOWSHIP on the touchscreen, thankful that I don't have to answer out loud. I guess it's probably obvious though. I enter my name, ARTHUR COMYN MALLOREY. NO, I haven't been a Community member before. NO, I'm not signing anyone else up for citizenship. NO, I haven't been inoculated before. NO, I don't have a place to live. Gina would freak out if my answers led someone home.

The kiosk asks, DO YOU WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN A FREE HEALTH SCREENING?

I stare at the screen until my eyes begin to burn. My heart races, which is dumb because this is the whole reason I'm here. Mom was terrified of being identified as ill or disabled. She'd act like we'd be locked up in an institution. Hell, even if I do end up in one, it's got to be better than the Dregs. At least I'd have a clean place to sleep.

I close my eyes, draw air deep into my lungs, and hold my breath while I answer: YES, I want a health screening. I let my breath out slowly and feel a disorienting mixture of excitement and finality.

An armrest slides out of the wall. PLEASE PLACE YOUR ARM PALM-UP AS INDICATED ON SCREEN. When I do, a thin band descends to clip around my forearm and take my blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and pulse. Then the kiosk scans my skin and draws a finger-sized vial of blood.

CONGRATULATIONS! It startles me when the armrest is jerked back out of sight and silent fireworks display on the screen. HAVE A SEAT. A TRANSITION COORDINATOR WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY.

I limp over to the padded, mauve chair closest to the admitting door, drop my pack, and collapse. My spine is now throbbing, my right hip is out of place, and I'm so exhausted I can't stop trembling. I close my eyes to focus on tuning out the pain.