6
Gears and Giggles.
“Most people after the Rise have turned into nomads. They travel the wastelands or the coasts, trying to get by day after day. But others, the smart ones, have built a stable life in the new world. You’ll find merchants, mechanics, hackers, hookers, craftsmen, writers… You just have to find them. They’re the beating heart of humanity. They work their hardest every day to ensure that we do not regress into simple animals.”
Extract ofThe Wastelands Gazetteby Francesca James, 2057.
Luck is on our side, and we encounter noHighwaymenor any of the King’s men as theFireflyflies low over the wastelands. Fyfe exceeds our expectations when he announces, as we reach the ruins of a small town, that he can use inertial navigation. He just requires a starting point to find our way on the map, even without a satellite connection. He informs us that he’ll be able to update his map as we travel, the old-fashioned way.
Jude seems to have a destination in mind. We’re going south of Nevada, near Las Vegas.
He’s inclined to fly non-stop, but theFirefly’s solar panels—as good as they are—can’t keep up. It was built to be entirely recharged after a few days. The solar panels are a secondary source of energy. So, we’re forced to spend the night in the ruins of another small town.
We sleep on our chairs in the cockpit, in silent agreement that we’re safer in here, as claustrophobic as it may be.
And we were right.
It’s in the dead of night that Fyfe announces, “Individuals are surrounding the aircraft. Activation of the safety protocol. At your command.”
Seconds later, a great noise echoes as someone outside hits theFirefly’s hull. Jude swears as more follow. Dirty faces and hollow eyes appear at the windows. Their hands leave prints on the glass. Thankfully, theFireflyis built to resist much more.
Desperate nomads are trying to get in. One even shoots a gun at Jude’s window. The bullet ricochets and disappears into the dark.
“Shall I activate the safety protocol?” Fyfe asks.
Jude looks at me. “What’s the safety protocol?”
But the AI is the one to answer. “The safety protocol will send a powerful electric charge through the entire hull, killing every human being who has their hands on it, and disabling all technology connected to it. It was designed to protect the aircraft from forced entry.”
“Yes,” I say. “Do–”
“Don’t,” Jude cuts me off.
I watch him, brow raised.
“Look at them,” he gestures at the men and women outside. “They’re just starving nomads.”
“They would kill us without hesitation if we stepped outside,” I say.
“Yes. Hunger and despair would do that to anyone. Let’s just go. Dumdumb, take us out of here. Find us a new spot.”
The three remaining aero engines come to life and the nomads scatter like mice.
As we fly away, I can’t take my eyes off Jude.
“What?” he asks eventually, annoyed.
“Why?”
He glares at me. “Why what? Why didn’t I just let Dumdumb kill them? I’m a survivor, not a sicko. And we were never in real danger. Don’t put me in the same basket as you. Now just shut the fuck up and let me sleep.” And he faces the other side.
I’m a sicko without a doubt. Because I would have killed every last one of them for even entertaining the idea of attacking us.
It takes us two more days to reach our destination. But at last, theFireflylands in front of a wide camp in the middle of the desert, surrounded by a fence made from buses and trucks. A fortress of scrap metal. On top of the wide gate can be readGears and Gigglesin hand painted pink letters covered in dust.
A tall woman with arms thicker than mine walks out of a smaller door with a gun aimed at us. She looks to be in her fifties, with blonde hair graying around the temples.
“Looks familiar?” Jude says, snorting.
