Ashes of the Fall Read Free Page A

a glimpse of a wall screen. Old Silver Fox is at it again, talking up the impending official announcement. Rumor has it, the Inner Circle’s been planning something big down South. A solution to the comparatively rampant lawlessness in the West—and maybe even the Lost Plains. New Manhattan and its surrounding areas are largely spared the scourge of our criminal presence by stringent security measures.
    To the right of the desk is a wide, welcoming hallway lined with dozens of elevators. Mine is already open, a golden-railed carriage inviting me inside.
    “Welcome, Mr. Reynolds,” a different voice says as I enter the carriage—still robotic, but this one female.
    I could lie and say I’d get used to it, but all the surveillance and eyes aren’t worth any amount of luxury. A little television screen above the ornamental buttons plays a news scroll. This building, though not quite as tall as some of the others in the city, stands over three thousand feet tall, and Matt—impresario that he is—has apparently secured a spot near the top.
    Which means I’m in for a two or three minute ride.
    “Allies of the Circle put down a group of rebels on the edges of the Lost Plains today,” Old Silver Fox announces with faux-gravitas, “ten rebels were killed, and another twenty-two were arrested for attempting to steal state property in the aftermath of what officials have dubbed a minor volcanic eruption.”
    It cuts to footage of the area—asphalt cracked, a liquor store burning, cars overturned. I wonder who the Circle sent out there to capture the video. The fringe between the West and the Lost Plains is a place I wouldn’t ever go on foot.
    The camera zooms in on two handcuffed men being led away by uniformed Circle officers. A couple of assholes who figured that, maybe, the borders would be vulnerable because Mother Nature crept in.
    Well, they were wrong. Even in the Wild West, as I heard a couple of lawyers in the New Manhattan customs lines call it, there are still eyes.
    “Experts have also been monitoring minor tremors and small quakes indicative of tectonic plate shifts along the Cascadia Subduction Zone. There is some worry amongst citizens that a quake of extreme magnitude could trigger effects beyond the immediate area. Circle officials have indicated that such worries are unwarranted, and have presented their own studies confirming that such claims are dangerous and irresponsible.”
    I swear I can see the gray-haired newscaster wince when he says confirming —mourning the death of his own journalistic integrity. When he started out, sometime around the twenties, there might have been a shred of honor in the profession. Now, he might as well be the mouthpiece of the Chancellor himself.
    What are the chances of a massive volcanic eruption and quake within a few hours? Apparently none, according to the Circle’s reports. But all that exhaust, shifting soil and human wear and tear over the past century adds up.
    Still, from the footage, it seems like it’s just a warning shot. Nothing to be worried about.
    “In tech news,” the newsman says, his voice growing appropriately lighter, “the manufacturer of the popular Golden Nectar HoloBand 5 has announced that HoloBand 6 will soon be available. The upgrade, as with the last edition, is free for all current HoloBand owners with a ten-year subscription to the company’s HoloNet networking service. A reminder to those east of the Great Lakes yet to undergo HoloBand installation: it will be mandatory to receive and send payment, traverse state lines and vote for local elections by the end of the year. Those who refuse installation will be subject to sanction.”
    Local elections. What a sham. I touch the back of my neck, where the fresh incision still stings.
    The elevator dings and the doors open to reveal a red-carpeted hallway. The news shuts off, with the words Have a Lovely Day written in a romantic script on the screen above the insignia of the