Noor(38)

DNA and I herded the steer into the back of the truck again. When we got inside, there was another message on the screen for us. “The Force wants to see you. All remote navigation?”

“The Force?” I asked. “What is that? Some Star Wars reference?”

“Does it matter?” DNA asked.

“I don’t like the idea of . . .”

DNA reached forward and touched the “OK” button. I frowned but that was that. He was starting to know me. We entered the Hour Glass.





CHAPTER 15


    The Force



As we passed through the archway, my head began to ache so much that I couldn’t filter it out. Conversations, clicks, flashes of light in my peripheral vision, pinprick feelings in the parts of me that were organic flesh. I didn’t mention any of it to DNA. Why ruin the moment for him. Or for me.

First we passed a group of people standing on the sides of the dirt path we drove on. People wearing things from traditional loose garments of the north, to burkas, to jeans and t-shirts and miniskirts and tube tops. I saw dark brown faces, many ages, all watching with curiosity as we slowly passed. People held up cell phones and were taking photos, most were looking with their own eyes and laughing?

Messages started appearing on the screen in the truck.

“Welcome!”

“Righteous murderers!”

“We’re glad to have you!”

“Save the cows!”

Some sent links to our truck, email addresses, physical addresses, invitations to meetings, parties, and many sent “clean cash,” untrackable 48-hour credits that could be used anywhere without revealing one’s identity or even location.

“This is crazy!” I shouted.

DNA laughed, “We’re famous.”

“Infamous,” I said.

“No, the Hour Glass is the greatest refuge from . . .” He pointed behind us. “All that and beyond. These are the people who fall through or don’t fit. If they’ve seen the un-doctored footage, then they have full context.”

DNA opened his window as we passed. “Thank you all!” he shouted. An old woman in jeans and a colorful Ankara top and giant gold earrings, waved and came forward, “We all know when that time comes,” she said. DNA held out a hand and she took it. She looked in at me and pointed at me with her other hand. “You, don’t feel badly and don’t let insecurity blind you.”

“Okay,” I said, frowning.

Someone banged at the back of our truck.

“Hey!” DNA shouted turning around.

“Open the back door,” another woman said.

DNA got up and went to the back, joining GPS and Carpe Diem.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah, open the backdoor,” he said. “I think it’s okay.”

“You think?” I asked. He was looking outside the back windows, GPS and Carpe Diem crowding and nuzzling him.

“Just open it.”

A giant bale of hay was dumped into the truck a moment after I did and the steer set upon it immediately. “Thank you,” DNA said to two women who stood side by side grinning.

“We’ve been following the chase on the feeds. When we heard you were here, we knew they’d be hungry,” one of the women said.

The other raised a fist and said, “Let the cows live!”

I raised a fist in solidarity, laughing. DNA shut the door and came back to the front and we got moving again, more messages still popping up on the truck’s screen. We drove on the sand path leading into the city, and we were both quiet as we took it all in. On both sides were a series of stone domes, each with thick poles extending so high that one could barely see what was at the top. But you could hear it—large wind turbines, their wide blades slicing the air so fast that they were a blur. They must have extended through the anti-aejej’s field.

The stone domes had hundreds of antennae sticking out, making them look like pin cushions. Even as we passed, we saw a group of laughing teens open a stone door to go inside one of the domes. Each of these buildings made my new senses vibrate with their digital connectivity. Along with being enormous sources of electricity, they were each some kind of communication node.

Once we passed these buildings, there was more open space, farms that grew what looked like corn, onions, soybeans, and tomatoes. Huge sunshine lamps flooded the area with so much light, it was as if the sun had risen. “Wow,” I said. “It even feels a bit humid here.”

“Engineers, scientists, journalists, farmers, lawyers, doctors, even billionaires, there’s a lot of brain power in the Hour Glass,” DNA said. “Every kind of person has a reason to flee here, if they have the guts.”

“And if they don’t mind never seeing the real sun,” I added. “It’s like living on the Mars colony. Except it’s right here on Earth.”

We drove on the dirt road for what seemed like miles. There were markets, the occasional stone building, but it was mostly farmland. People walked along the road. It was peaceful. We arrived at one of the open spaces and a message told us to “get out of the truck, leave the steer, they will be cared for, start walking,” so we did. Water was drawn from a network of deep wells in the area and people lived around these wells. What fascinated me most was that, because the anti-aejej prevented rain and wind, people lived right out in the open, not a house in sight. And there was so much open space, privacy wasn’t an issue. The sky that people were used to was the maelstrom churning above. There were wide oriental rugs spread over the soft sand in the home areas. People walked about without shoes.