Gordon Littlejohn was late to work the morning of the fifth because of the EMP bomb that went off two blocks from his apartment. At six fifty-nine a.m., a utility truck disguised as an official State vehicle disintegrated under the pressure wave of a conventional explosive while every unhardened electrical system within a kilometer of the truck’s secondary explosion, unseen by the naked eye but well felt by everything that conducted current, had its useful properties scrambled by electromagnetic pulse. As a result of the EMP, none of the electrics in Gordon’s apartment, including his alarm clock, functioned properly anymore. Heavy sleeper that he was, the rattling of his windows was mistaken for an errant compost truck and Gordon had responded by rolling over in bed and grunting a bit. When the sun’s rays finally pierced Gordon’s cheaply veiled windows to tap dance on his eyelids, it was ten o’clock. Rockmore was definitely going to count this as an occurrence.
THE HIVES ZOMG THE HIVEz OMG DA HIVES OHM MEH GAWD DAR HIVENS…
Amanda_adnamA's vid feed dropped off an addymap to the fore of his working environment on his trex's screen. Straight into the Local No. 108 Youth Development Complex. Great holy fleist, what was she doing there. Stomping grounds for the young. Get your beat on. Get you shag on. Get your experience on. Start networking NOW, kiddo, or you gonna fall hard on the Floor. You gonna be walkin' the Expanse instead o'tubin under it.
They left the bank by tubewerx, peristalting their way to a node that was local to Paul’s borough. It was a casual stroll though avenues that Paul was instinctively familiar with. What was extra nice was not having to go home to say goodbye to it. What remained to be seen though was what exactly the taster’s where planning on doing with it. Extension office? Holy shight, what was that supposed to mean? What was in store for him now?
“So,” started Paul as they got to his door. “Does extension office mean anything like HR office?”
“We’ll be seeing about that, mainline, now why don’t you get around to trexing that door open.”
Well, I made it. 50 thousand words within a thirty day time span. Was it ever a rush and a mess and a big pile of WTF all at once. I'm not even going to look at the manuscript for a few days. I need time to purge. Now I understand what deadline means. And I had the advantage of not having my livelihood depend on the production. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to get myself into such a position, but I've got some work to do before it happens.
Itty elbowed Baby sharply in his side.
“Kidding,” he said, rubbing the insult. “I can see by the look on your face you still have some questions, Paulie, and we’ve got some time before arrival. “What’s grindin’ on ya?”
“Yes, that just so happens that is true. What’s the flooring made of again?”
The three of them just stared at him. “Oh,” said Baby. “Yer serious. Alright. It’s called plastiform, right? That’s common enough knowledge. It’s extremely malleable when exposed to the right combination of electromagnetic frequencies, which are scrambled on a daily basis by Tubewerx Central in what I can only believe to be some sort of attempt at keeping people from doing what we’re doing now. Plastiform’s the stuff that let’s buildings grow and take shape in the biz district, right? You saw how big Taste! is now, correct? Well, it just doesn’t stop there. The whole of the tubewerx is malleable as well. Partitions of the plastiform slowly move into position, allowing tube capsules to zip through in peristaltic motion.”
Paul had had enough of being talked down to by angry monsters. Having survived an ordeal with two of them previously, he found no reason why he wouldn’t survive another. What was there to lose? Obviously they weren’t going to let him go now, and he didn’t believe that they were capable of murder. No, this ‘Baby’ character wanted to intimidate, but that was all. He jumped from his seat and bounded over on his long legs to confront the Goliath, pointing his finger at it’s nose and asked, “Your name 'Baby'?”
I'm going to go out on an limb here and guess that everybody on the oort-cloud has heard of National Novel Writing Month. I've decided to sign up. As you may or may not know, it's 50 thousand words in 30 days. That's just under 1700 words a day. Dang. One thing, though, is that you have to start it with something new, which means i'm going to have to finish up Trex World's rough draft in a hurry. And maybe that's a good thing. It'll be like training for a marathon. We'll see if it pans out. Is anybody else out there planning on signing up? Has anybody been through it before and has thoughts on the subject?
Here's my NaNoWriMo page, so y'all can see me progress: http://www.nanowrimo.org/user/203290
This is my first time out, so, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
“Authority, what do they have to do with anything?”
“Well, you said it yourself, we’ve got to be under the tubewerx, right?”
“Well, yeah, but how in the hell of hells does authority not notice you? I mean, they run the tubewerx and –“
Her trex beeped a harsh tone. “Here it comes!” she squealed.
“Here comes wha--”
“So, where are we going?” Paul asked following Amanda_adnamA’s shapely form down the spiral staircase. She had her gold spun hair in a bun, held tight with elegantly adorned chopsticks. Their simple refinement shouted subscription heaven. Perhaps they were as easy to remove as they were on the eyes…Stop it, told himself, forcibly letting go fantasies of taking her in this cozy space. Just stop it.
“Your interview, like I said.”
Paul waited in the the apex of Taste!’s HQ, staring out the panoramic windows that offered little in the way of an interesting view. The building’s just not tall enough, yet, he thought. A small slice of the pie shaped space allowed one to peer out, towards the edge of the Expanse, where the Business District buildings receded like…like something from a dream. The Floor was teeming with folk. Of course it was, it always was. It seemed so calm from here, though, at this level. How calm it must seem from the top of PanPro? How calm from the president’s suite in the Center? Places he would never enter. Nor did he ever really want to. He realized that now. After all his time on the Expanse, in the Capillaries, under the Skylight, his ambition in life had been nothing more than to get out from under his parent’s watchful eye and just be on his own. And that’s exactly where his was now, on his own, looking to a bunch of kids for salvation from being Dispossessed.