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More from CoronaRadiata
>>>Arato, Northern Province
>>>New Democratic Empire of Merrica (NDEM)
>>>Present Day
My first day in the capital, and I’ve spent most of it flying. Not piloting, of course, but as a passenger on a civilian (what some may call “luxury”) airline en route from the southern province.
Looking down, I can see the seaside capital- a grey and monotonous chunk of metropolitan cityscape carved into the rocky hills that bordered the ocean. It’s raw and uninviting from here, but my friend on the ground assures me that it’s different from his point of view. The plane descends upon the airport situated on a small island in the ocean connected to the mainland by a series of bridges.
I feel the sudden jerk of the wheels touching asphault, and the steady pull of deceleration as the plane slows. Solid ground, finally. Soon, the seatbelt signs switch off and the plane comes to a complete stop at the gate. The woman sitting next to me shifts in her seat, eager to get up and stretch. I pull out my earphones and wrap them around the player. I’m tired of sitting; it was a long flight.
The other passengers begin to get out of their seats, so I get out of mine. Putting two hands on the small of my back, I work out a notch with a satisfying crack. I pull out my carry-on from underneath the seat and stroll out of the plane and step out into the corridor.
Ask any physician about the science behind walking, and they’ll tell you that it’s simply a series of catastrophes narrowly avoided: you fall with one foot on the ground, only to catch yourself at the last minute with the other. I feel like that definition no longer applies to me. Each step I take is articulate, precise. It doesn’t feel like falling, more like gliding. And even though I’m still trying to make sense of these new, alien limbs- still at edge with them, in fact, for being so foreign and unfamiliar and mismatched- I need to enjoy the sensation of walking again. I spent a harrowing forty-five minutes crippled and dying (enough to last a lifetime) and another year in and out of hospitals and physiotherapy (enough to last several lifetimes), and now the sensation of walking with two legs and a strong, supportive spine is invaluable to me.
Flying is still out of the question, though. My wings are clipped for now. Not that it matters to me; broken yesterday, walking today, soaring tomorrow.
I round the corner and enter the terminal. It’s a big, airy place- echoes rebound off the walls, and light scarcely reflects off the solid concrete and tile. The place is filled with people- families, lone travelers, lovers, businesspeople, security. A proverbial sea of Nearians, young and old, and I’m supposed to find one out of all of them. I groan to myself, this is going to be fun. Luckily for me, I get found first.
Joshua van der Graas holds an intimidating figure: standing at six feet and ten inches, he’s taller than the average Nearian- huskier than most, too. If you didn’t know him well, you’d never guess his disposition, or that he was completely cyberized. Upon seeing me, his face lights up. I can hear his voice over the crowd.
“Rivas! Over here!”
I go over to him. He grips my hand and pulls me in for a strong, brotherly hug.
“Haven’t seen you in months, mate. How’ve you been?”
“I’m alright. Still sore in the mornings, but the docs say that’ll pass after a few months. Yourself?”
“Oh, I’ve been good. Trying to relax, get the military stuff out of my head. It’s good to see you on your feet again. You’re done the physio, right?”
I nod. “And I’m glad, no more damn elliptical machines.”
“New legs treating you well?”
“I can play a mean game of basketball, that’s for sure.”
He laughs.“That’s to be expected, bro. Those things are military-grade, really powerful stuff.”
“You’d know. Listen, my stuff’s probably in the baggage area by now, I should go grab it.”
He nods, and tells me that he’ll wait outside with the car. I head down the escalators to the baggage conveyors, and snag mine without missing a beat. By the time I make it out through the revolving doors, the vehicle is already there. I toss my stuff into the trunk and get into the passenger side.
“So you were saying this place looks nicer on the ground?”
“Well, maybe not HERE, but where we’re going, I think you’ll like it. People say it looks a lot like...oh, what’s it called, ‘Wall Street’?”
I shake my head. “Never seen it, Josh. I was born on the same planet, yes, but not in that city.”
“What city, then?”
“It’s a place called ‘Vancouver’.”
He starts the car. “Weird name. Does it look similar, though?”
“Sort of. So we’re going to the city centre, right?”
“Yeah, and hopefully we won’t get stuck in traffic. Your plane came in late, what happened?”
“Turbulence. Oh, and I got held up for twenty minutes at security. Apparently, they’re not kosher with Earthborn, lone males flying on planes.”
He chuckles. “To be fair, you could’ve easily smuggled a bomb onto that flight with your cybernetics.”
I prod at my right thigh. It feels a bit tougher and less pliable than actual human flesh, but no one would notice unless I had my shoes or pants off. I look up and see that we’re passing the bridge into the capital. The city, looming and grey from the plane, looks a lot more lively from down here- I can see the electronic billboards on the skyscrapers, video screens advertising soft drinks and antidepressants, and lights of various colours in the streets. Even the road markings are illuminated, though that’s more evident at night.
“Hey, my pom’s on the dashboard. Grab it and put some music on, I really suck at working electronics while driving.”
Sure enough, Josh’s handheld Pomegranate rests just above the dashboard controls. I grab it and look it over as if I’ve never seen one before.
“Something up, Rivas?”
“This little piece of tech garbage cost me almost half of my body, Josh.”
“Ah, I see. Well...if it makes you feel any better, the damn things are useful. And, lucky you, they hold a ton of music.”
Nearians tend to engineer computing devices from special crystalline minerals, mined from remote locations around the planet. Same goes for the “cores” they wear- little pieces of jewelry that somehow contain their souls. My job- the job that maimed and very nearly killed me- was to survey the land via a Type 052 “Cormorant” helicopter equipped with automated geological equipment. I was a pilot, and a damn good one, given my age. I owe the subsequent injury and recovery to Pomegranate (which, ironically, is named after an Earthly fruit that has never grown or been imported here) who were my official employers. I place emphasis on “was”.
I scroll down the list and pick a song at random. Josh scoffs at it, “no, oh GOD, not that one. Reminds me of my last girlfriend, mate.”
I scroll down again and pick another. A healthy drum n’ bass song pumps through the speakers.
“So did you ever get any word from Pomegranate after the accident?”
I scoffed. “Got something from the owner, actually. Just another ‘gee, I’m really sorry we fucked up your life, let us pay your medical insurance!’ letter. I was impressed that she found the time to sign it herself, though.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You know, you’re lucky they took special interest in you. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone in the natural resources sector actually getting support from the company save for the mandatory paid sick leave.”
“You call that ‘special interest’, I call it appeasement.”
He frowns behind the wheel. “Is that another Earth thing? Endless dissatisfaction with literally everything and everyone?”
I shake my head. “Where are we staying?”
“The Fairview, on 157th Avenue. I’m just warning you though, it’s going to be a little crowded.”
“Crowded?”
“Yeah, there’s a furry convention going on there. You know what those are, right?”
“Well enough. So we’re going to be spending our vacation time surrounded by mascots and virgins?”
“More or less. Hey, look at it this way, it’s a big departure from what you’re used to. I think we can both use a little abnormality.”
I look up from the handheld and glance at him. “You’re into this stuff, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Josh, you’re part of First Reaction Battalion, and you’ve got a body literally manufactured for wartime action. Why you would be so cool about staying in a metropolitan resort populated by teenagers in costume is completely beyond me, unless you have an interest in it on the side.”
He frowns. “Okay, maybe a little. Don’t worry about it, my friend, it’ll be fun. And hey, if you’re not interested, there are tons of other things going on in the city and underground that you can check out.”
I lean back and chuckle. “Jason, buddy, you know me. I’m already used to being a proverbial black sheep. I’m willing to check this show out.”
“Well hey, that’s great to hear!”
“Just no freaky fursuit stuff, alright?”
“You have my word.”
Part 2 will be up by Thursday night. Again, special thanks to
feathertail for giving me permission to write.
>>>New Democratic Empire of Merrica (NDEM)
>>>Present Day
My first day in the capital, and I’ve spent most of it flying. Not piloting, of course, but as a passenger on a civilian (what some may call “luxury”) airline en route from the southern province.
Looking down, I can see the seaside capital- a grey and monotonous chunk of metropolitan cityscape carved into the rocky hills that bordered the ocean. It’s raw and uninviting from here, but my friend on the ground assures me that it’s different from his point of view. The plane descends upon the airport situated on a small island in the ocean connected to the mainland by a series of bridges.
I feel the sudden jerk of the wheels touching asphault, and the steady pull of deceleration as the plane slows. Solid ground, finally. Soon, the seatbelt signs switch off and the plane comes to a complete stop at the gate. The woman sitting next to me shifts in her seat, eager to get up and stretch. I pull out my earphones and wrap them around the player. I’m tired of sitting; it was a long flight.
The other passengers begin to get out of their seats, so I get out of mine. Putting two hands on the small of my back, I work out a notch with a satisfying crack. I pull out my carry-on from underneath the seat and stroll out of the plane and step out into the corridor.
Ask any physician about the science behind walking, and they’ll tell you that it’s simply a series of catastrophes narrowly avoided: you fall with one foot on the ground, only to catch yourself at the last minute with the other. I feel like that definition no longer applies to me. Each step I take is articulate, precise. It doesn’t feel like falling, more like gliding. And even though I’m still trying to make sense of these new, alien limbs- still at edge with them, in fact, for being so foreign and unfamiliar and mismatched- I need to enjoy the sensation of walking again. I spent a harrowing forty-five minutes crippled and dying (enough to last a lifetime) and another year in and out of hospitals and physiotherapy (enough to last several lifetimes), and now the sensation of walking with two legs and a strong, supportive spine is invaluable to me.
Flying is still out of the question, though. My wings are clipped for now. Not that it matters to me; broken yesterday, walking today, soaring tomorrow.
I round the corner and enter the terminal. It’s a big, airy place- echoes rebound off the walls, and light scarcely reflects off the solid concrete and tile. The place is filled with people- families, lone travelers, lovers, businesspeople, security. A proverbial sea of Nearians, young and old, and I’m supposed to find one out of all of them. I groan to myself, this is going to be fun. Luckily for me, I get found first.
Joshua van der Graas holds an intimidating figure: standing at six feet and ten inches, he’s taller than the average Nearian- huskier than most, too. If you didn’t know him well, you’d never guess his disposition, or that he was completely cyberized. Upon seeing me, his face lights up. I can hear his voice over the crowd.
“Rivas! Over here!”
I go over to him. He grips my hand and pulls me in for a strong, brotherly hug.
“Haven’t seen you in months, mate. How’ve you been?”
“I’m alright. Still sore in the mornings, but the docs say that’ll pass after a few months. Yourself?”
“Oh, I’ve been good. Trying to relax, get the military stuff out of my head. It’s good to see you on your feet again. You’re done the physio, right?”
I nod. “And I’m glad, no more damn elliptical machines.”
“New legs treating you well?”
“I can play a mean game of basketball, that’s for sure.”
He laughs.“That’s to be expected, bro. Those things are military-grade, really powerful stuff.”
“You’d know. Listen, my stuff’s probably in the baggage area by now, I should go grab it.”
He nods, and tells me that he’ll wait outside with the car. I head down the escalators to the baggage conveyors, and snag mine without missing a beat. By the time I make it out through the revolving doors, the vehicle is already there. I toss my stuff into the trunk and get into the passenger side.
“So you were saying this place looks nicer on the ground?”
“Well, maybe not HERE, but where we’re going, I think you’ll like it. People say it looks a lot like...oh, what’s it called, ‘Wall Street’?”
I shake my head. “Never seen it, Josh. I was born on the same planet, yes, but not in that city.”
“What city, then?”
“It’s a place called ‘Vancouver’.”
He starts the car. “Weird name. Does it look similar, though?”
“Sort of. So we’re going to the city centre, right?”
“Yeah, and hopefully we won’t get stuck in traffic. Your plane came in late, what happened?”
“Turbulence. Oh, and I got held up for twenty minutes at security. Apparently, they’re not kosher with Earthborn, lone males flying on planes.”
He chuckles. “To be fair, you could’ve easily smuggled a bomb onto that flight with your cybernetics.”
I prod at my right thigh. It feels a bit tougher and less pliable than actual human flesh, but no one would notice unless I had my shoes or pants off. I look up and see that we’re passing the bridge into the capital. The city, looming and grey from the plane, looks a lot more lively from down here- I can see the electronic billboards on the skyscrapers, video screens advertising soft drinks and antidepressants, and lights of various colours in the streets. Even the road markings are illuminated, though that’s more evident at night.
“Hey, my pom’s on the dashboard. Grab it and put some music on, I really suck at working electronics while driving.”
Sure enough, Josh’s handheld Pomegranate rests just above the dashboard controls. I grab it and look it over as if I’ve never seen one before.
“Something up, Rivas?”
“This little piece of tech garbage cost me almost half of my body, Josh.”
“Ah, I see. Well...if it makes you feel any better, the damn things are useful. And, lucky you, they hold a ton of music.”
Nearians tend to engineer computing devices from special crystalline minerals, mined from remote locations around the planet. Same goes for the “cores” they wear- little pieces of jewelry that somehow contain their souls. My job- the job that maimed and very nearly killed me- was to survey the land via a Type 052 “Cormorant” helicopter equipped with automated geological equipment. I was a pilot, and a damn good one, given my age. I owe the subsequent injury and recovery to Pomegranate (which, ironically, is named after an Earthly fruit that has never grown or been imported here) who were my official employers. I place emphasis on “was”.
I scroll down the list and pick a song at random. Josh scoffs at it, “no, oh GOD, not that one. Reminds me of my last girlfriend, mate.”
I scroll down again and pick another. A healthy drum n’ bass song pumps through the speakers.
“So did you ever get any word from Pomegranate after the accident?”
I scoffed. “Got something from the owner, actually. Just another ‘gee, I’m really sorry we fucked up your life, let us pay your medical insurance!’ letter. I was impressed that she found the time to sign it herself, though.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You know, you’re lucky they took special interest in you. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone in the natural resources sector actually getting support from the company save for the mandatory paid sick leave.”
“You call that ‘special interest’, I call it appeasement.”
He frowns behind the wheel. “Is that another Earth thing? Endless dissatisfaction with literally everything and everyone?”
I shake my head. “Where are we staying?”
“The Fairview, on 157th Avenue. I’m just warning you though, it’s going to be a little crowded.”
“Crowded?”
“Yeah, there’s a furry convention going on there. You know what those are, right?”
“Well enough. So we’re going to be spending our vacation time surrounded by mascots and virgins?”
“More or less. Hey, look at it this way, it’s a big departure from what you’re used to. I think we can both use a little abnormality.”
I look up from the handheld and glance at him. “You’re into this stuff, aren’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Josh, you’re part of First Reaction Battalion, and you’ve got a body literally manufactured for wartime action. Why you would be so cool about staying in a metropolitan resort populated by teenagers in costume is completely beyond me, unless you have an interest in it on the side.”
He frowns. “Okay, maybe a little. Don’t worry about it, my friend, it’ll be fun. And hey, if you’re not interested, there are tons of other things going on in the city and underground that you can check out.”
I lean back and chuckle. “Jason, buddy, you know me. I’m already used to being a proverbial black sheep. I’m willing to check this show out.”
“Well hey, that’s great to hear!”
“Just no freaky fursuit stuff, alright?”
“You have my word.”
Part 2 will be up by Thursday night. Again, special thanks to
feathertail for giving me permission to write.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 15.3 kB
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