ALLISON WUNDERLAN

CHAPTER 6. SLIDING TO LOWER DOWNBELOW

Light Between the Trees / 2022 / Photo by Russell C. Smith

Miles and I slammed into a gigantic wave of kids scrambling toward every exit door, as a piercing alarm filled the air. All around us desks and VidScreens collapsed and folded sideways into the walls, ceiling lights zipped upwards and disappeared into holes the size of eyeballs. Electrical cords were sucked into walls like pieces of spaghetti being slurped up by tiny ravenous mouths. Seconds later—ghostly, flickering images of everything and everyone—right down to the smallest paper clip took the place of whomever and whatever had just filled the hall.

“Just when I get used to one weird thing, a dozen more happen,” I yelled over the noise.

“Security sensors must’ve picked up a Tracker, or a squad of GovSoldiers,” Miles said.

I turned to him and shouted, “What do we do?”

“We’ve gone into lockdown mode. Got to get to Lower DownBelow!”

He pushed open a secret door we’d been standing next to. It had blended perfectly into the wall, with no cracks to tell where an opening might be.

Running down a steeply sloping corridor, we flashed past broken doors falling off hinges, graffiti of arrows and clocks and upside-down heads drawn with colored chalk. Hiding in the shadows were rats the size of fuzzy cats, seeming more scared of us than we were of them.

Finally, a shorter tunnel veered us away from the main corridor. Miles caught his breath and pointed. “Over here!”

He did the same locate-a-secret door trick he’d done a few flights up, and after climbing into a dark metal tube, we slid down hundreds of feet through a slick plastic slide and zipped through a rubber flap until we tumbled out onto a big, orange cushion in the shape of a mushroom. I landed headfirst, rolled over several times and I slammed directly into Zak’s legs, almost knocking him over.

“Here, let me help you up,” he said.

I grabbed onto Zak’s wrist and fell against his chest. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he held onto my hand and didn’t let go. It wasn’t the first time I’d been that close to him, but for some reason this time I noticed little gold flecks in his green eyes. And his smile seemed more open. Rayne came over and cleared her throat.

“Uh, we’ve got to secure Lower DownBelow, so if you two don’t mind…” she said.

“Absolutely,” Zak said. “I was just making sure Allison…”

“Sure, I can see,” Rayne said.

The hundreds of kids who’d been busy at TyperPads, maps, VidScreens, and messing around with small technical gadgets in the Main Hall were already in place and busily working in Lower DownBelow. It was as if nothing had interrupted the buzzing activity, and forward momentum was built into them, just like PlugIns had been.

“You OK?” Miles asked while shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just wasn’t expecting for everything to change so quickly.”

“You’ll find things…and people...need to transform and adapt with much more speed than you’ve been used to in the past, Allison,” Rayne said. “Get used to thinking on your feet.”

From several wall-mounted speakers, the steady whoop-whoop alarm was still going off above us. “What’s going on upstairs?

“Two Trackers breached our security,” Rayne said in a clipped tone. “A few kids didn’t make it to Lower DownBelow. We can only hope they got outside quick enough to get to our hidden bubble cars, to lead the Trackers away from Command Center. Then, destroy them. While I’m not blaming you, Allison, it bothers me how coincidental the two events are.”

Zak stepped up to Rayne and stood toe to toe with her.

“If you’re going to accuse Allison of something, then do it, but don’t toss out a phrase like ‘seems like a coincidence’ as a way to keep her at a distance from our operation. I think we need her, Rayne.”

Not being a back away from a confrontation type of girl, Rayne leaned toward Zak and shoved her finger in front of his face. “Don’t tell me what we need, Zachariah! You’ve been here what, eleven months? Yeah, you’ve made a vital contribution to the movement, but I’ve been running Revolution Evolution Underground San Fran Island for the past three years…ever since…”

Rayne cut her sentence off and turned around. She ran to a door in the far corner of Lower DownBelow, opened it, then disappeared.

“What’s with her?” I asked.

“Pressure’s been building up lately,” Zak said.

“That explains a hell of a lot,” I said.

Miles glanced from Zak’s face to mine. “Follow me,” he said.

He led Zak and me through an oval-shaped room full of couches and pillows and two large, curved VidScreens, and brought us into a brightly lit room with a small kitchen space, and four or five triangular-shaped tables.

“You two sit, I’ll make us some coffee,” Miles said.

“Coffee?” I asked. “Does anybody ever sleep around this place? Or has that been forbidden in the future?”

“We’re night people,” Zak said. “First by habit, now by necessity. GovTroops on the street can demand to scan your USS IdentiChip. If a GovSoldier wants to key into your PlugIn to read your DNA code, they’ve got the authority. For escapees from Teenage Wasteland, such as myself, it isn’t safe to move around the city during daylight hours…”

“Besides,” Miles said while setting three mugs of coffee on the table, “Zak’s more of a nightbird anyway. Even if everything were diff, he’d just stay up and work on his mysterious concoctions and serums all night anyway.”

Zak lowered his eyes. “Air’s cleaner at night too, less lingering pollutants make it this far below the surface. Oh, Miles, did you remember to BioChip Allison?”

Miles nodded. “She’s ready for our less friendly air and FutureBugs.”

I picked up the coffee and blew across the steam. “The air felt breathable when we were out earlier tonight.”

“Super better than it used to be—fewer factories, not as many oceangoing MegaTransports, less overall resources,” Miles said.

Zak leaned back, stretched his arms behind his head and stared at me. “Allison, if I remember correctly from History chips, kids from your time kept small mammals in their houses and named them.”

I squinted into my mug. “Yes, we called them pets. Most popular are dogs and cats, but I have a pet rabbit named Buggs. Maybe had is a better way to put it. Uncle Alex better go shopping for fresh carrots and lettuce tomorrow.”

“Keeping a mammal. It’s like she’s from another planet,” Zak whispered.

“Not another planet, just a better version of this one,” I said. “Ours was messed up, but Jesus, yours is a wreck.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Miles said.

They both shook their heads, more out of wonder than anything else.

“Anyway, here’s the thing about Rayne getting upset out there,” Miles said, “Like she said, she’s been running Revolution Evolution Underground San Fran Island for three years. The longest anyone’s ever been in charge…”

Zak twisted his mouth to the side. “Yeah, she told me as much…”

“It’s the way she became Commander that makes her seem crazoid from time to time. Rayne came here with her boyfriend five years ago. She was 12 and he was maybe three years older.”

“Rayne was traveling around with a boyfriend at the age of 12?” I asked.

“Of course,” Miles said. “Here in the chipped brain future, you either become more docile or desire more freedom. One of the side effects of tons of info coursing through your brain circuits.”

“More weirdness to file away,” I said. “You were telling us about Rayne’s boyfriend.”

“They met in one of the FreeFall zones. Deepest woods up in Oregon. Made it down the coast, and managed to find us. Along the way, Alphonse, picked up a GovManufactured virus while they were camping in the backcountry. When they got to San Fran Island he was delirious and shaking. Kept in MedConfinement for weeks, and over time we managed to restore him to health.”

“Huh, OK,” Zak said. “Keep going…”

It seemed this was news to Zak. It was comforting to know there was stuff about Rayne even he didn’t know.

“Rayne was super grateful we’d saved Alphonse,” Miles continued. “She volunteered for every mission and brilliantly carried out every task assigned to her, no matter how dangerous. On one mission to L.A. she was second in command to a five-person team. Led by our former Commander, Miguel. He was smart, tough, and reckless. Rayne had watched Miguel’s every move from the moment she got to Revolution Evolution Underground, and she picked up on how a leader’s supposed to act, which came to good use on the L.A. mission…”

“I’m guessing things didn’t turn out as planned,” I said.

“Rayne doesn’t talk about it,” Miles said. “But stories and rumors spread when you’ve got over 2,000 kids working together all the time.”

“Kids gossiping and spreading rumors,” I said. “Some things are the same no matter which timeline you live in.”

“Ever since movies have been created with holographic actors, the boarded-up warehouses of OldHollywood jammed full of unused vehicles, costumes, props, and even some useful computer technology. We wanted to grab and adapt some warehoused LateTwentieth tech gear for our purposes. Also, two members of the crew were going to stay in L.A. to help our struggling Los Angeles branch — assisting with recruiting, security, and the future dosing of. L.A.

“The situation turned crumbly and cracked. Right after they’d stocked up on vehicles and technology stolen from a storage lot at MegaMondoUniversal Studios. Two MilitaryGrade reinforced bubble cars and an antique HummerTank loaded up with tech supplies, computers, and movie props couldn’t outrace a RoboTank.” Miles shook his head. “No one expected a warehouse in OldHollywood to be guarded to such a degree.”

“I would’ve,” Zak said. “It’s called being prepared.”

“Everything’s diff out in the world, Zak,” Miles said. “You don’t know how you would’ve handled a crisis like…”

Zak hit the table with his fist. “Hey! I got here from Teenage Wasteland. Where’d you come from? Oh yeah, that’s right. From Mill Valley is what I heard. You had a half night’s stroll to get here.”

“Guys, argue later if you have to,” I said. “Miles is still telling his story. Go ahead, Miles.”

Zak twisted his neck to the side and clutched his mug. Nodding for Miles to continue.

Miles smirked and said, “Thank you, Allison. A RoboTank targeted the three loaded-up vehicles just as they rolled toward the exit gate, and it blasted away at them. Miguel, who was in the lead bubble car, ordered the other two vehicles to smash through the gate. Said he’d catch up. He may’ve thought he had enough driving skills to outmaneuver a RoboTank, or maybe he’d just set himself up as a decoy. His bubble car tageted and incinerated before he made it out of the parking lot…”

Zeke said, “Acted like a true leader and saved everyone on the mission.”

“Yeah, that the hell he did,” Miles said. “And that’s how Rayne became the new Commander. Thrown into a tough situation. Dealt with it perfectly. Everyone except Rayne went nutso crazoid. She calmed kids, found food, read the maps, kept them off every highway. Navigated the team back to San Fran Island. Traveling only at night and hiding out in ghost towns during daylight hours. When she returned with supplies and an alive crew, minus the mission leader, she was told the bad news about Alphonse. He’d been placed in MedConfinement, barely hanging on. Seems the virus had just gone into remission, but never completely left his body. She arrived at the Command Center in time to spend most of a day with him. He died the following night.”

“Oh, she must’ve felt awful,” I said.

Zak shook his head. “Not exactly the best way to start off as Commander.”

“After some time passed and Rayne was more or less fully functioning, we all agreed no one else was as qualified as she was to be the new leader of Revolution Evolution Underground,” Miles said. “Told her and we’d be honored if she’d become Commander.”

“Isn’t always easy to carry the weight…” Zak said. “Then again, this isn’t the easiest bunch of kids to keep in order.”

Miles got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. “No shit,” he said over his shoulder.

“Nice use of ‘no shit,’” I said. “But you need more practice on where to work in your ‘hells’ and ‘damns’.”

Miles laughed and rejoined Zak and me at the round table. No one spoke for several minutes, until I said, “How come you guys keep saying the president’s a clone?”

“Conflicting rumors on the GlobalWeb,” Zak said. “The facts are: Olivia Oates is SuperLeft, Black, and Gay. She didn’t exactly get into the Office of Prez by a landslide, but after the fourth online recount was completed she’d inched ahead in the DigitalVote, winning by less than 1,000 votes. Which was enough. The UltraRight candidate demanded yet another recount, but Olivia Oates still came out ahead, and she became the winner and next Prez…”

I reached over to Zak. “Can I see the photo of her you told our cab driver about?”

Zak pulled a photograph out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to me. The photo was a 3-D image of a black woman with beautiful deep brown eyes and an afro hairdo that reminded me of Angela Davis, shoulder length black hair, seated at a silver desk. A presidential seal on the wall behind her shoulder. Intense and knowing eyes, coupled with one of those I know a secret you don’t smiles.

Miles jumped in. “For many years, the parties have been so close as to be indistinguishable, whether a Prez candidate was HardRight or ProgLeft, and the behind-the-scenes BigBiz deals made sure no true visionary came out of either party…until Olivia Oates came along.”

“Apparently,” Zak said, “enough grown-ups were fed up with NoChoice in all matters personal plus political. Olivia struck a chord, and her vision of saving what’s left of our scant bits of wilderness and regaining our former global standing, resonated with voters…”

“That’s all fascinating,” I said. “But where’s the ‘she’s a clone’ part come in?”

“We’re getting to that,” Miles said. “Anyone with as much charisma as she had was a danger to herself as well as to her party. You know this much about charismatic leaders from growing up in your time period. Three major political assassinations within such a short span of years…looking back, it’s a Wild West historical segment you came from. And now, the Wild West is back, but with a twist. As soon as a sitting Prez is assassinated by shadowy forces, the official word immediately goes out on GovNews saying, “Excellent try, but you just blasted, poisoned, or incinerated the Prez’s clone. And now we take you to New White House in Pittsburgh for the State of the Union Address…”

“One thing’s for sure,” Zak said, “no one believes Olivia Oates is stupid enough to go anywhere unless it’s not the real her—which makes ultimate sense. If she’s not a clone of herself, she’s not smart enough to be leader of the Unified Society of States. And if she is a clone, she’s doing a disservice to the voters who finally elected a true charismatic visionary for the first time in way over a hundred years. It’s a no-win situation for Prez Oates, be she clone or be she real.”

“She sounds smart, no matter what else she may be,” I said.

Zak smiled and slurped back the rest of his coffee. “Hey Allison, you must be bone tired. Let’s get you a place to sleep.”

“What a lovely word. Sleep,” I said. “Please lead the way.”