Interview: transcripted. January 12th, 2031

Kathy Coolidge: Dr. Guzman, thank you for sitting down with us today, I know you’re a busy man.

Dr. Rohan Guzman: Really, it’s my pleasure. Awareness of the public is only possible if they listen. People listen to you.

Coolidge: Yes, well, let’s hope so. So, for all the viewers who don’t know too much about the current environmental situation, do you think you can give a quick recap of where we’re at, as a planet.

Guzman: I had a feeling you’d ask me a question like this, so yes, I can oblige. I’ll try to keep it succinct. In 1992 the world started taking the environmental holocaust caused by humans seriously with the Kyoto Protocol. Countries were reluctant and many chose not to sign; this lack of urgency coupled with human’s innate desire to work against the grain resulted into the ultimate failure of this attempt. In 2015 we had the hottest year in recorded history cross planet. Just 5 years later, in 2020, we had the first major jump forward for the environment with the signing of the UN sanctioned Detox Protocol, which was to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, world-wide, by 50%. By 2022 we saw no such reduction and scientists worldwide, myself included, began talks of forming the Coalition of Environmental Scientists to further study and present the current state of the planet’s environment. I’m sorry Kathy is this too much or should I keep going?

Coolidge: No, no! Please continue.

Guzman: Right, well at that first meeting we determined that we were heading towards disaster and without major, and I’m talking the complete ceasing of the burning of fossil fuels, within the next ten years, we would have, by our own hand, sentenced the Earth to death.

Coolidge: And how long ago was that initial meeting?

Guzman: Seven years ago Kathy and now we’re really working against the clock here. We cannot continue on this path. Over the last ten years twelve environmental bills have been failed in the three world superpowers. America’s fossil fuel consumptions has spiked and we’ve had exponential growth in temperatures across the globe. We need change and we need it now, or there is no going back.

Coolidge: And if we don’t change, if humanity continues burning through our resources what do you predict will happen?

Guzman: Well, and this is an off the cuff calculation that I really don’t like considering, if we do nothing to change, as a planet, in the next three years, we’re looking at entire global meltdown of catastrophic proportions by the year 2125.

Coolidge: Wow, okay. And what do you think the largest obstacle to this change is? Obviously people know what’s happening by now, what’s stopping us from saving the planet?

Guzman: Kathy, if I could fully answer that question the Earth wouldn’t be at its current state. We just don’t know. The facts are there, staring us in the face, but some people, they just, they don’t want to believe them. I really think that’s it, we don’t want to believe that it’s up to us to change. And me throwing that date out there? That’s only going to propagate our lack of responsibility. It won’t be in our lifetime that this environment becomes uninhabitable; it will be our children’s, maybe our grandchildren’s if we’re lucky. But it will happen and let me make this part especially clear: when it does, there is no mass effort, no bill or treaty or protocol that will make up for the damage that has already been done. By that point the only way to save the planet will be for humanity to leave.

1.

The oxygen mask sealed around Ferrin’s nose and mouth like a living thing. He took a first breath, the plastic of the mask deflating inwards and then puffing gently outwards with his exhale. The rest of the O2 Crew followed suit. The self-attach masks were new; both to the hospital where Ferrin’s mom had lifted them and to the crew. Garth panicked briefly while the delicate plastic self-adhered to his face, but a glance from Riley calmed him; his enormous chest rising and falling back to a normal rhythm.

Ferrin snorted and Weasel rolled her eyes. Weasel’s brother was a sap. If Riley told him to shut up he’d all but rip his vocal cords out. Ferrin waited until Garth tore his eyes from Riley’s back and up to look at him. He pulled the holo sphere from his back pocket and tossed it to float in front of them. It convulsed and expanded, a hazy map of the city filling the space between the group of four. A section of the image was pulsing red. He let the other three familiarize themselves with the path they were going to take out of the city.

Ferrin had spent all day preparing the map and he’d gone to great care to streamline the route, this was the farthest the crew would ever had gone. No one went into no-man’s land, and they were going past it, into the Woodland’s district, the only condemned district in Singapore. It was going to be gritty, real, and dangerous; everything their lives were not during the day.

Three pairs of eyes drifted up to meet his gaze; expressions expectant. Ferrin pulled the orb from the air, swallowing the map with the palm of his hand, and slid it back into his pocket. The last light of the dome was dimming quick as the artificial day cycle was switching to the night. The hum of the air recyclers turned into a contained roar as the breathable air was suctioned from the streets. The plastic leaves on the plastic trees rippled, flags waved, and sparse debri left on the streets from the day’s passerbys danced towards the vents.

It was time to move.

Ferrin turned away from and hopped off the low rise roof of the porch and into alley besides his house. He stole a brief look inside the kitchen window; his mother was standing at the sink, washing dishes, his father reading a tablet in his favorite chair. His brother’s baleful glare met his own, a disapproving smirk twisting his lips. Ferrin looked away and took off at a run down the darkened sidewalk. His contacts slid into night vision overlay, plunging his swiftly dimming world into sharp edged green and purple clarity. The light tapping of the footfalls of the rest of the crew followed him down the street.

He had his map memorized, as always, and the twists and turns he took through the empty city streets were well rehearsed in his mind. Ferrin lived in the Bukit Batok district, a district overrun with the wealthy and the unimaginative, like his brother, Lu. He was an anomaly there; discontent with the mundanities of high-side lifestyle. It was common to for miscreants to arise in other parts of the city, like Riley’s or Garth’s, but not from a household led by a doctor and an official. Lu was common for a family like his, but Ferrin had never found himself content with the status quo. Riley and he had met in mid-level, both at odds with the rest of their classmates and had attracted like magnets to more chaotic hobbies.

For the rest of mid-level, until they were 14, it was just to two of them against their world. They concocted secret plans and narratives, filling their days and nights with imaginative musing that only those still young at heart could invent in a world as bland as theirs. The other kids, most trapped by their family’s status or their own limited views, thought them too divergent from the norm to be likely candidates for friendship. As Riley came into her own as a woman, passing through puberty like a high speed train, boys and girls alike started to gain interest in her and, through association, Ferrin.

It was somewhere in high-level that their tight friendship transformed into a club and subsequently into the O2 Crew, the name deriving from their shared need for exploration after curfew. Most of their time went into planning, but they had even attempted a couple exploratory missions using cheap jerry rigged O2 balloons stolen from the science lab. Temporary members were allowed into the crew for a trial basis, but as their exploits became more inventive, and illegal, only two people stuck around after graduation. Garth, muscular enough to discount his lack of mental aptitude, and his little sister Jeanie, nicknamed Weasel because of her small frame and demanding personality.

The O2 Crew was small and quick, and after tonight, would be the most daring venture crew in Singapore. There were other ne'er do wells across the city, groups who ran out after curfew with other goals in mind. Black Knight, PoorMan’sArmy, Constable Kids, and The Song. Where there were limits, there would also be limit-breakers; thrill-seekers like the O2 Crew, whose only goal was to see a little more of the city than they could in the daytime, and among those such groups, there was healthy competition. Each group had their own rulebook, code, and method. Some went for late night mag-skate sessions in the most epic of settings, like 4Gage. Dome climbing was another popular feat, dominated by the enormous Black Knights, topping off at 50 members. Base jumping, O-ball, ziplining, mag-races; if there was a non intended use for a space, there was a crew that would seek to discover and master it.

Crew achievements passed on mainly by word of mouth but there was darknet chatspace for the leaders as well. Everything was under the table, shared in the quiet anonymity of a sports game rukus, or crowded bar. The government wasn’t too keen on the rambunctious youth of the city, but tended to turn the other cheek for the ease afforded by ignorance. Of course, if a bot happened to catch someone out after curfew, the would be a public reprimand, and sometimes a hearing, but that was rare enough. Most thrill-seekers stopping seeking after a certain age, so it wasn’t revolutionary if a small percentage of the cities youth decided to fill their nights with danger and intrigue as long as the greater mass of citizens were safe in at home. Such was life under the dome.

Tonight Ferrin was taking the crew out back the outer limits of the city. It wouldn’t be easy to get there, and it would be fraught with the possibility of entrapment, but that was exactly why he’d chosen it. Repeated thrill without risk lost it’s edge with repetition. Their new masks would be good till morning, an oxygen supply unheard of before, and he’d snuck a couple combustion chips from the grill as a possible distraction if things got complicated. After tracing the path through his own district they were going to need to catch the back of a waste transport which should be passing through the district line at a specific time Ferrin had been sure to calculate into the plan. Once on board they’d ride it out past the outer city ring, towards the north edge of the dome. It was desolate, officially condemned, and it was going to make for the most epic night any of them had ever experienced.

The world bobbed in front of Ferrin’s vision, tinged green and purple through his contacts. Apartment buildings were turning to factories around them as they weaved their way to the back of the district, out towards the edge of the city and the gate check for the disposal bots. He’d almost forget his mask was pressed tight to his mouth, recycling his exhale into fresh oxygen to pull in. He reminded himself to thank his mother again for pulling rank at the hospital and bringing him not just four, but eight of these beauties. She was risking a lot more than him by doing so, but she knew that he would be breaking curfew without her aid, and with much worse technology.

Ferrin stopped sharply throwing a hand up to signal a full halt to the rest of the group. He motioned for them to hug the corner of the building to their left and wait. The muffled breathing through the masks sounded heavy in the dark and silent city. He checked his watch, counting down the seconds from ten in his head. Exactly on mark a standard security bot floated by them, lazily sweeping a beam of white light across the road in front of it. The beam touched on the sidewalk, feet from where the crew was huddled, then swung back to the other side of the street. By the time the probing gaze of the bot had returned it was far down the street.

Farrin grinned, so far his timing was good, now the luck just had to hold up for the next seven hours. Once they got out of the limits, into the no-mans land, there would be no more patrol bots, but they’d also be far from contact; if anything went wrong in Woodlands they had no safety net. They were heading into the dead city and the government had no reason to keep watch over it, there was nothing there to steal; nothing there to see. But that’s what had tweaked Ferrin’s interest in the first place, long before he had the means to get there; if it was so desolate why was it cut off from the rest of the city? The government may not send out watches to make sure there wasn’t unauthorized access, but they also made it clear to the city that trespassing there was illegal, and doubly so after dark.

The tight group of four moved as one down the street, the buildings, once soaring above them, were shrinking in height, turning squat and square and unattractive; ugly and distant from the beating heart of the city. Ferrin glanced at the time again; they had five minutes to kill before the transport would crawl by. He’d considered going on foot out past the limits but he had a feeling there would be some protective layer of security they’d trip on the way. Plus, hanging a ride on a waste transport was too cool an opportunity to pass up. He turned back to the crew.

Garth was vigorously itching the back of his palm. “Fucking can’t believe I forgot my gloves.”

Weasel snickered and Riley turned turned to Ferrin.

“Nice job with the patrols. How many more we have to cross?”

“Well, we would’ve had some extra bots to sneak past if we’d waited a bit longer, but that’s why I rushed us down here. This transport is the first out of the city and heads out in the interim between patrols.”

“Sweeeeet.” Weasel grinned.

Their voices all sounded muted through the plastic of the masks. It reminded Ferrin of screaming under the ocean waves as a kid. Swimming out to the edge of the dome and trying to peek through, seeing only plastic, and yelling at it; hoping that maybe, someone was on the other side, yelling back. Of course no one could be, the Outside was a wasteland.

“Okay so two of us gotta come at the transport from each side. It moves slow in the city but should pick up some pretty intense speed once it leaves the outer ring. You all know where to jump on right?”

Garth shook his head slowly, “I forgot to look at the thing you sent us.”

Weasel slapped him across the shoulder. “Idiot! I told you four times!”

He shrugged, eyes darting to look at Riley’s reaction, and cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

Riley sighed, “It’s fine man. You stay on this side with me and I’ll lead you through it.”

Riley was always sweet on Garth, not because she returned his feelings, but because he was so obviously devoted to her that she couldn’t do much else. She’s made it clear enough that the feelings weren’t mutual, and settled on treating him like an over affectionate puppy.

Weasel huffed and grabbed Ferrin’s hand to pull him to the other side of the street. He followed docilely, knowing better than to ruffle the young girl’s feathers, especially when she was agitated with her big brother. Weasel was a smart kid, though definitely more of a kid than anything else. She was still in high-level school, only 15, but quick as a whip. Ferrin and Riley were both newly graduated, in the comfortable interim of no responsibilities before being placed into their respective careers where fun would come second to work. Garth was the oldest of the group, 24, and employed as a maintenance tech, repairing mag-grav units across the city whenever he was needed. It was pretty basic work but it required some heavy lifting, which was perfect for Garth.

Ferrin and Weasel squatted on the lip of the sidewalk, opposite Riley and Garth. Riley was explaining what he needed to do when the transport rolled past, pointing and gesturing with emphasis.

“Fack my brother’s so dumb.”

“Not everyone’s as smart as you.”

“You are.”

“Sometimes.”

Weasel flashed him a grin. “Well tonight you are for sure. This is gonna be wicked.”

She emphasized the slang term. Weasel liked languages and spoke more than just the common tongue. Before the Environmental Holocaust there’d been hundreds of languages across Earth, most of them outdated but still spoken by at least a small population of people. Of course lots of people in Singapore still remembered bits and pieces of their heritage languages, but the common tongue was all that was taught throughout the levels, so it was all most of the citizens spoke. Weasel was an exception. She liked the asian languages the most but lately had been sprinkling her dialog with old derivatives from the common speech. “It adds flare,” she says.

Farrin grinned, his plan was pretty meta, but it had only just begun. He was a bit anxious about catching the transport and getting inside it without anyone in the crew flying off to crash into no-mans land, especially knowing that Garth didn’t have a clue about how to catch the latches on the bottom of the ship. Hopefully he was listening to Riley instead of just watching her lips shape the words.

A light flashed from up the road, pulling Ferrin’s attention to the approaching transport. It was moving slow. It seemed to bob above the road, like it was riding a wave; a leisurely stop-stutter glide. The bottom of the transport, and all the means of transport in the city, were layered with an electromagnet, repulsing and attracted in waves by the magnets embedded in the streets. The slowly the movement the more visible the rise and wall became.

“You ready?” Ferrin whispered.

“Fack yes.”

The transport was almost directly in front of them when Farrin shot a hand out to signal for Riley and Garth to go. The four crept forward, moving at a pace only slightly faster than the transport. Transports were as unintelligent as technology in the city could come. They had minimal sensors, mainly for collision prevention, that didn’t alert the command system unless the ship was stopped or damaged beyond self-repair. Along with the low probability of alert, the transport bots had grip sized latch holds on both sides, perfect for a human hand to grasp, that were normally engaged for building docks.

The bot was directly in front of the group, two feet off the ground, dipping slightly. Before it rose again to it’s full height Farrin lept up and grabbed hold of the bottom latch. He swung his feet up to his sides, resting them on the lip of the transport, then pushing himself up to grab the latch that rested just below his shoulder. He glanced over to ensure Weasel had made it up without issue. The puce green highlights of the night vision didn’t allow him to scrutinize her expression, but he imagined she was grinning triumphantly. It was her natural state.

The signal to open the door was usually automated but the doors were weak enough to pull open manually. In a city so automated it had surprised Ferrin that there was a manual backup to the transport, but from the look of it it hadn’t been updated in a long while. It wasn’t as though most of the citizens would ever see it and out of sight was out of mind.

The transport was gaining speed down the street, the bouncing leveling with the increase in momentum. The air drag made it a bit more difficult to hold on; there wouldn’t be another chance to safely get inside. Farrin stretched a hand out against the body of the bot, keeping it tight to the surface to avoid the increasingly persistent pull of the air. His arms were long and he dug his fingers into the seam of the door with ease. Yanking it open wasn’t quite so simple but once the door was cracked it slid without too much resistance. The side beside Weasel opened in tandem and Ferrin motioned her to get inside first. She curled her body around the edge of the door and then was covered by the shadow of the interior. Bits and pieces of waste and rubbish trailed in her wake. Ferrin traced the path of the garbage, floating behind the transport, laying lifeless along the path out of the city. They would still be resting there in the morning, when the oxygen was again pumped back into the dome; clean, clear, and fresh from a night of purification. Ferrin briefly wondered if anyone would be confused by the presence of trash along the normally spotless street.

Garth and Riley were already inside, pressed up against the back of the transport, where there was a metal lip above the reservoir of trash. Weasel was opposite them, hair whipping around in a whirlwind glancing out the window the open door afforded. More loose trash circled the interior of the transport, confused by the pull on the both ends, forming a small vortex until one wind current won out.

“Jeanie, get away from there.” Garth called out.

She ignored him. It was almost impossible to see anything in the dark enclosure, but one finger seemed to rise up in the direction of Garth. For such a genius Weasel always reverted to a defensive child when it came to fielding criticism from Garth.

Ferrin settled down next to Riley. “The doors should shut in a couple seconds. Once we pass over the outer limit; pretty sure it’s automatic.”

The door slid closed with a snap, prompting a small squeal from Weasel.

“You knew that was gonna happen you assholes!”

Riley laughed, “Serves you right.”

Ferrin pulled a flash bulb out from his pocket. Similar in look and feel to the orb, but instead of a smooth metal exterior it was a durable, translucent plastic that lit with a power of a small sun when turned on. He tossed it down to the other end of the transport so the light wouldn’t be overly intense. He had packed a few and didn't mind leaving that one behind.

Weasel crawled over the impression of trash that separated the two ends of the transport and squeezed in between Garth and Riley, to Garth’s obvious chagrin.

Farrin watched the contacts adjust to increased source of light.

“Okay, so journey time is about 20 minutes to the dump site.” He said.

“Can we crack the door open or something? It’s rank in here.” Weasel whined.

“Don’t they incinerate the junk?” Garth asked.

Riley replied, “Yeah but it dumps into a que first right?”

Farrin nodded. “Yup. So once the doors pop we roll and get out of the sea of trash before we get burned.”

Garth didn’t look pleased with the alternative of burning alive and Riley patted his shoulder affectionately. “Don’t worry man we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah don’t be such a pussy bro.” Weasel added.

Ferrin cut in before the two would start arguing. Weasel and Riley had really been butting heads as of late, ever since Weasel’s 15th birthday. Riley was convinced she had an adolescent crush on him and thought Riley was a threat. They both thought that was hilarious. Riley, though attractive, was Ferrin’s oldest friend and that trumphed ruining their crew’s dynamic, plus she was a little liberal with her affections for his taste. Riley was like the sibling Ferrin had always wanted, replacing Lu in that aspect. Ferrin and his older brother, who now worked full-time at his father’s office but still lived at home, were as dissimilar as two people could be.

“Alright we need to be serious tonight guys, we can’t afford any mistakes. No one’s been out this far, we don’t know what we’re going to find. Just because there’s no bots on parole doesn’t mean it’s safe, most likely less so because of that fact. We’ll be good for about six more hours with the masks-”

“Thank god for Momma R.” Garth cut in appreciatively.

“-so let’s make good use of them. We need to leave at least an hour or so before sunrise to make sure we make it back with enough O2. And we’ve got to stay together this time.” Farrin paused to shoot an accusatory glance at Weasel who pulled her lips into a pout.

“I know some of us like to run off without a backwards glance at the rest of the crew.”

“That was one time! It’s not my fault you’re all so damn slow.” Weasel rebutted.

“We’ve got like 15 minutes right?” Riley asked.

Farrin nodded.

“Sweet, I brought something to make tonight as epic as possible. Little good luck boost you could say.”

She pulled a handful of squares out of her pocket, colored blue and green, and tossed in her hand.

“Banshee?” Ferrin raised an eyebrow.

“I bought enough for each of us to take two.”

Weasel reached forward and Garth shoved her hand away. “Oh hell no Jeanie, mom would kill me if she found out I let you take drugs.”

“Then I’ll tell her about all that reading material you left in your room from when you moved out.”

“You little shit!”

“Hey!” Riley shouted, “Weasel how old are you now?”

“15.”

“Yeah, Garth, I was doing Banshee when I was like 12. You’re sis’s old enough to do what she wants. This crew does shit way more dangerous than take a little advancer. You gotta chill.”

“Yeah Garth chill.” Weasel added.

“Whatever but she’s only having one.”

Riley spoke before Weasel could protest. “Fine.”

Riley passed out the squares and stuffed the excess one back into her pocket. She peeled off the colored plastic, holding the almost translucent between her fingertips and then pressed in into the indent of her collarbone. Weasel did, step by step, exactly as the older girl had done.

Ferrin pressed both squares onto his wrists, favoring a slow build rather than a quick hit, and Garth reluctantly pressed the small squares onto his neck, needing Riley’s aid in order to peel the plastic from their backs.

“When does it work?” Weasel asked.

“You’ll know.” said Riley.

Banshee was one of the cheapest drugs on market, synthesized from mostly household ingredients and made across the city. It was illegal, but just barely. It enhanced perceptions, putting it in the advancer class of drugs that was enjoying its time in the limelight. It was popular with sports players and throughout the thrill-seeker crews. Ferrin tended to steer clear of most drugs after a bad experience with some morphine tablets he’d found in his mother’s lab coat when he was younger, but Riley was a pretty big user, at least with the soft core sets.

Once the drug sank into his veins the remaining five minutes turned to ten seconds of hyper-awareness, the soft inhale-exhale of the mask absorbing him, and then the door to their right was sliding open. The transport keeled, directing the trash out to fall out to pile below. The bot was going horizontal fast.

Ferrin pushed up and glanced out to the view below, contacts adjusting to night vision again. They were about ten feet up but the pile looked like general waste, nothing to painful to fall on. Ferrin yelled over the impact of trash on trash for them to follow his lead.

He turned inwards and bent to wrap his fingers around the lip of the door then let himself drop to a hang and, with one more glance at the open space below, fell down atop the shifting pile of junk.

The drop had been shorter than he’d first anticipated and the landing soft enough. The transport was almost flat and empty above him. His head was pounding from a mix of Banshee and the adrenaline spike of the drop. Weasel was already dangling from the door and then she dropped softly to land just in front of him. The transport was moving away now, leveling out.

“Both of you! Now!” Ferrin yelled.

Riley dropped first and Garth soon after, seconds before the transport stabilized and moved beyond the landing zone.

The pile around them was shifting more quickly now, moving towards a yawning metal door behind them. The pile was on some sort of conveyor belt, moving slowly, but steadily. Ferrin was beginning to feel the light heat wash over his skin, emanating from the the incinerator that lay just beyond the door.

They had ample time before their section of trash would reach the end of the belt, but Ferrin didn’t want to waste any of their exploration time sitting in a mound of junk.

He began pushing through the shifting mass, shoving aside the plastic skins and packaging. All of it was going to be melted down to its constituents and then remade into something new, carefully condensing and purifying the fumes. Singapore didn’t waste anything.

Ferrin could hear Weasel exclaiming in disgust behind him, her complains following him to the edge of the pile. He could feel the movement of the conveyor belt now beneath his feet, and it ended right against the wall that enclosed the dumping ground. It was easy enough to walk faster in the opposite direction to make ground away from the belts final destination.

Ferrin stopped at the origin of the belt, where there was a ladder leading over the top of the wall.

“Well that’s lucky.” Riley pointed at the ladder from beside him.

“Yeah I don’t think this part of the city was always automated.”

“Weird.”

Weasel pushed between them and began to climb.

Garth grunted from behind, “She’s going to get herself killed.”

“Oh she’ll be fine.” Riley tossed over her shoulder, following Weasel up and over the top of the wall.

Ferrin turned back to Garth, his foot on the first rung. “You gotta lighten up man, you’re not gonna get her if you’re captain buzzkill all the time.”

“The drugs didn’t work.” Garth shrugged.

“You don’t need drugs dude.”

“Oh.”

Ferrin shook his head and started to ascend. Garth was a good guy, all thumbs with a big heart, but he did not get women, Riley in particular. He probably shouldn’t have baited him, bringing Riley into the picture, but Ferrin wanted this to be the best night the O2 Crew had ever had, and that wasn’t going to happen if Garth was grumbling the whole time.

Farrin dropped down the other side of the wall, ignoring the rungs, and bounced up from a crouch. He ignored Riley’s raised eyebrow and nod to the other side of the wall and took a glance around. They were still in the waste deposit site so there wasn’t much to see in their immediate vicinity, but beyond the outer gate Ferrin could spot the vague outline of soaring towers and buildings dissimilar to those that they’d left behind. The dome was black even with the vision overlay; a dark and impenetrable backdrop to the northern edge of the city.

He heard Garth drop to the ground behind him, the only sound other than the staccato rumble of the slow-moving trash.

“Let’s go.” Ferrin said without turning and took off towards the condemned district.

Next Chapter: Prologue