The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) Read Free Page A

we have and all we know to do.  Reproduction, and food, and work.  We enjoy this blessed cycle of simplicity, which 1295 knew would be our salvation.  After all, we were the savages, the ones who killed the first Plutians that came to help us.  We live in remorse and gratitude on our Earth, that we were shown grace on our own soil.  As it is, we are now...the aliens."

     
    CHAPTER TWO
    September 3, 2013
     
     
    At least it wasn't police lights or the bad breath of a stranger that woke her.  Maeve sat up on her bare-floor mattress, flattening her back against the cold plaster wall , before answering her phone.  The ringtone had keened its warning.  Her mother was on the line.
    Maeve already knew why she was calling.  It was why Maeve yawned and scratched her head and took her time t o thoroughly debate answering.
    The call was because Maeve's father had coughed up an extra five mil to get Maeve flash frozen in one of the posh, Archive chambers.  Among the affluent, it was the thing to do.  The world's atmosphere was going to shit, according to everything reported on the TV news, and scientists were expecting a world-wide oxygen shortage.  So what did the rich do?  Hell, they jumped into Profanyl chambers and had themselves artificially suspended until shit settled down.  According to the lab geeks, there was a fix, but it would take at least 17 years to turn it around.
    There was no reason for a ridiculously wealthy family like the Aypotus to have to wait around for a fresh world to happen.  Not with the boatloads of cash Maeve's father had made in medicinal supplies.  He was the world's top supplier of health, for God's sake.  He didn't wait in lines.  With the Archive chambers, the Aypotus could hop into the express lane and detour right around the coming apocalypse.
    Still, it was a little shocking to Maeve that she would be included in the 'family' part.  She was her parent's embarrassment, their only child, and therefore, their biggest failure.  The tattoos and piercings and, probably, all the leather, was why t he tabloids labeled her The Badass Black Sheep of the Aypotu's aristocratic trio.  The wickedly cool moniker did nothing to impress her parents. 
    So, it was a bonafide shocker when her mother had called initially to say that she and Maeve’s father were paying for Maeve’s chamber.  It was still pretty surprising that her mother would call a second time.
    Maeve picked up the phone, curious to hear if her mother wanted to hammer out their differences, apologize for Maeve's lousy childhood, or even just confess her love to her only daughter in a blubbering torrent in the final hours leading up to their appointment at the archive the next day.
    "Hello?"
    "Maeve, it's your mother."
    "I know.  Caller ID."
    "I called to give you our expectations."
    "Expectations?" Maeve snorted, but her mother ignored it.
    "We expect punctuality, Maeve.  Five p.m., 141 East King, downtown Lancaster.  Write it down and don't be late.  Don't bother the valet with that car of yours either.  It won't matter if you leave it in the street."
    "You're okay with the paps snapping photos of my bumper stickers?  I've got some new ones on there..."  When her bumper was full, she'd started tattooing the back panels of her decrepit Dodge Ram and slowly, the stickers had consumed her ride’s whole tailgate.  They were starting to slop over onto the back panels.  Maeve had even bought a new one, just for this occasion, that said Adios Bitchachos .
    "Let them take whatever photos they want.  We won't have to deal with it for 17 years.  By then, it'll be old news," her mother said.  "However, tomorrow.  We want you to wear something reasonable.  It's the least you can do, considering your father has paid so much for your chamber.  No rivets or studs or spikes.  And wear shoes , not those ridiculous boots.  And for God's sakes, please don't embarrass us.  You need to look presentable."
    Even with the laundry