Konsk: The Great Takeover of the Place.

40. Grandstand view.

The three left the shattered apartment block together. Jodi was not visible but occasionally spoke to them softly, directing them through the ruins until Annest once more assumed command. Nonna stayed at Trueman’s side, occasionally grasping his elbow with a steadying hand, though he had little need of it. Already the grip of the fever seemed to be receding but once more he was thrown into a confused tangle of thoughts; too much too soon, he thought

He considered his recovery from the profound shock of the fight, of the killing, with apprehension. Though it was only hours from the event, he felt nothing. Though he could conjure the image of the man, could replay the final seconds of that life in graphic detail, still he felt nothing.

The speed and completeness of the repression, for he was certain that that was what had occurred, disturbed him. Surely in his old body, back at the Little Big Farm, he would be distraught. he shook his head. Perhaps the slight fever? No. More likely the new body, now that it was his, something of the previous occupant seeping across. He shivered; the body of the murderer.

They progressed slowly, fires still raging on their right, the flames visible between the remaining shattered buildings. In amongst the collapsed ruins they came across a scatter of bodies, grey ballistic armour, weapons.

"Manson's heavies," Annest identified them.

Some were partially burned as though trapped by the wild fire that had swept through the service compounds. Others had more obvious wounds. Nonna knelt to examine some.

"Gun shots. Different calibres. That one took a shotgun blast from close range and there's a cross bow bolt." She didn't sound surprised.

"Probably resistance and freedom fighters, then," Annest concluded, "Using whatever they could get hold off. Thinned them out for us, at least."

Again, Trueman was disturbed by his lack of feelings towards the bodies, as though he had shut down crucial areas of himself in order to survive. A number of dusty dogs scattered on their approach, hanging back in the black shadows of piled rubble.

The sun had passed above them and begun the long descent towards the western horizon before they glimpsed a much larger structure, still some distance ahead, only partially visible when they climbed particularly high piles of debris. Its angular outline gave little clue to its purpose; it had an idustrial look to it, Trueman thought, like a factory or a power station,.

At one point Jodi, ranging off to one side, softly advised them to take shelter in the lee of a tilted, multi-story car park and a few minutes later, a jet assisted helicopter shrieked across the sky. Annest watched it warily through her patches, readying a stubby canister in both hands. She did not need to use it, whatever it was. Jodi followed it with a scope.

"Manson's logo," she remarked.

Their way became clearer as they left the bulk of the service areas, giving up the shattered shopping malls and arcades, the collapsed apartment blocks. Before them appeared more open areas designed as gardens and lawns, now reduced to ash, swirls of dust, the black skeletons of trees dotting the bleak vista.

Now the World Games stadium was more clearly revealed as an imposing, monolithic structure ominously outlined by the lowering sun beyond. Its darkly stained concrete was propped with the paved inclines of access ramps and balconies like flying galleries, reminiscent, to Trueman, of a vast, decaying cathedral and quite unlike the colourfully daubed festival site depicted on the screens at the Alt-Tech Centre.

Annest was not happy about crossing such an open vista and separated them out once more. She remarked that it was quite possible that the route was not only mined but covered by heat-seeking detectors.

“We have to consider the possibility that this whole thing could have been set up,” she said, “by someone.”

She looked pointedly at Trueman.

As he followed her in towards the stadium, the building began to reveal something of its enormous size by the simple fact that it appeared not to get any nearer. It was only after an hour of steady progress across the burnt and parched earth and cracked pavings, the melted asphalt approach roads that its dark silhouette grew at last to tower over them.

Observing its vast bulk he was led to consider the huge expenditure of energy and attention which had been required to construct this structure, this edifice that had appeared awash with emotions and drowned in the vastly petty tide of human loyalties and enmities. Yet all had come to nought. Now it seemed a decrepit wreck, devoid of any further meaning. Lowering his gaze he entered into the shadow of the building.

Annest called them in to muster in a ransacked kiosk at the entrance to an access tunnel. She set up her listening device then came to sit against a wall with the others. They all ate some of the emergency provisions from tubes.

“There’s a strong power source operating here,” she remarked, casually, waving a hand held device that emitted rapid bursts of clicks. "An SMR, judging by the emissions."

Trueman asked the question.

"A small, modular nuclear fission reactor," she explained, patiently, "Over there somewhere," she pointed, "And down a few levels, underground. No signs of any electronic communications, too much interference and jamming."

Jodi nodded.

“We have to get the INCO inside,” she stated. “There’ll be a ‘face.”

Trueman listened passively for only a moment then all the confusions and frustrations bubbled up towards the surface and broke in a single word.

“Explain!”

He used the command voice. Even Jodi was startled momentarily and raised her weapon. The three women exchanged glances.

“Why am I wanted here?” he asked.

Annest gathered herself.

“The NET feed to the sub-continent is corrupted,” she said, “We can’t be sure of anything coming down the pipe. We have to go in physically to retrieve the data.”

“We need to make a direct connection,” Jodi stated, turning to look straight at him. “We need to plug you up.”

Trueman nodded and sighed. Once again he seemed to have little control over his destiny, was a mere tool to be manipulated and used. Not completely, he thought, not this time.

“It has been suggested, by some,” he began, carefully moulding the tongue to form the words as best as he could, “that conceivably an AI is responsible for all this.” He took some satisfaction in observing the sudden exchanged glances between Nonna and Annest. Jodi did not react. “Although it is probably more likely that an operative, perhaps a rogue Volley or an INCO, has been manipulating the net feed.”

That sounded quite impressive, he thought. Pity he didn’t really understand it. Annest, however, appeared convinced.

"There'll be more of Manson's militia arriving at some point," Jodi added, "And there's a good chance that some are still here, survivors of the fire and the fighting."

“If that's so, then this is where they’ll be," Annest agreed. "Let’s do it then. Me and Nonna, we'll watch the exterior. The INCO goes in with you, Jodi. Stay in contact while you can but the radios wont work over any distance. We'll mine the entrance tunnel and if it gets too heavy out here we’ll follow you in, .”

Trueman found himself rising easily to his feet. Although he still felt a little light headed, his new body now appeared charged with energy, as though rapidly cleansing itself of toxins from the infected wounds and ready for action. Nonna seemed on the point of saying something to him but he raised a hand to stop her.

Not now, he thought sternly, it was time to get to the bottom of all this. He turned his back on her and followed Jodi into the tunnel.

It was large, wide enough for several vehicles abreast; a service entrance, he thought, for maintenance or emergency tenders. The way grew darker and Jodi instructed him to use an infra red source from his helmet. This displayed the concrete walls and ceiling on the interior of his visor as cold blue, mottled grey, the floor awash with trash. Anything even vaguely useful seemed to have been stripped out, even the light fittings, cabling and trunking, leaving only ragged holes in the concrete.

Jodi was a pale blur before him, even in infra red, as she trotted along the tunnel. She turned off and followed a sloping ramp to a higher level, looking back occasionally to make sure he was still with her. She need not have concerned herself; fully aware of his new body, Trueman loped easily behind her, hardly needing to even deepen his breathing. In the brief glimpses of her turning head he could see that she had pulled the hood down over her eyes and assumed she was following some three dimensional depiction of the architecture of the stadium. At least she knows where she’s going, he thought, hoped.

She stopped before a vertical barrier, completely closing off the tunnel. The single bulky door had no obvious handle.

"Now why would you..." Jodi began.

It seemed counter factual, to Trueman, that anyone would want to restrict a wide access to a single door. He said so. The warrior agreed.

"There's an inset in the door," She went on.

Examining the surface, Trueman found an oblong of glass set in the surface of the door, just above waist height. Remembering the doorways in the underground complex below the Media Centre, he placed his right hand flat against the cold material.

A light blinked on and off within. There was a a slight hiss as the seals cracked open, then the door swung slowly outward.

Trueman smiled smugly and found Jodi observing him closely, weapon to hand. She went through first then beckoned for him to follow. Inside they found another, similar wall and door.

"Like an airlock," Trueman said, placing his hand on the inset of the second door.

Again the light. This time the first door closed before the second opened.

"A slight difference in air pressure," Trueman observed, "Explains the hiss when the door opened."

"Air's got more moisture in it, too," Jodi commented.

Up ahead they could make out a growing, green light. Jodi slowed to a cautious walk, moving to the side wall. He joined her, exchanged glances then they moved on slowly. Is this where the competitors would wait, he wondered, before making their grand entrances, tense and excited? Bit like me, now.

As they neared the opening Trueman could see that it appeared veiled in a complex material, a chaotic web or net, tinged darkly green against the light beyond. He was further surprised to hear, incongruously, the call of birds from the space beyond.

It was only as they reached the green net that he realised it was made up of the runners and trailing stems and roots of plants, hanging thickly like a cloak across the entrance to the stadium's interior.

Jodi parted the fronds and tendrils and they pushed through, stepping out into a vast green jungle of vegetation that rose up before, above and behind them.

The air smelled fresh and vibrant, birds called melodically to one another, many insects buzzed and swirled like motes of light, dancing in the air below the high, arching canopy. A small monkey paused in the action of picking a nut, perched on the lower limb of a massive tree, almost directly above them and stared quizzically down.

Jodi whistled in amazement. Trueman could not agree more.

Thanks for reading. More to come. For all the earlier episodes of Konsk and some explanations, check out here. Suggestions, any additions, extra activities, more or less detail, illustrations whatever always welcome.

Pictures this time from the public domain. The second one is a composite view including some of the architecture of Sant Elia, the futurist architect who produced designs for, among other structures, power stations. The third one is another composite view. I used the excellent open source image editing software Gimp to create the composite views- a steep learning curve but well worth it and there are plenty of tutorials and help pages on line.