Assassination 2136

Chapter 7: Eco-Disaster

The brochure said the eco-talk was two days away. With all the hard work done for me, I felt almost lazy. Whenever I worked a job I was always up early and getting home late, but those two days I slept in with Dovima, and spent my afternoons with her. We didn't really 'cook' per se, but heating the MASH up and choosing the flavour packets together at the store was actually really nice. I don't enjoy spending money, but I enjoy the mundane part of my life when I'm not planning to violently murder someone for money.

Yet, the night of the eco-talk came. As I said earlier, the eco-talk was in the better area of town, the higher socio-economic status suburbs. As such, it was pricier to catch the train there, costing a whole extra cred just to get there. My rifle was tucked under my coat, and the train to the richer area of LA was significantly nicer than the trains I was used to catching. Stepping onto the train, there was... No smell. No urine, alcohol, sweat. It just.... Didn't smell.

It was also physically cleaner, my shoes did not stick to the floor as usual, and sitting down I was greeted with smooth, clean fabric rather than rough, clumped together lumps of carpet sewn onto creaky chairs. The train was also silent, barely a groan or snap to be heard.

When I got to my stop, the train doors slid effortlessly open and I found myself in a well maintained subway station. As I climbed up the stairs, polite and mild mannered people shot me side eyed looks as I stared slack jawed at the city around me. It was nothing like any other part of the city I had seen. Traffic flowed smoothly, obeying the rules and not a horn in ear shot. People walked on their side of the footpath, exchanging friendly greetings to one another.

Crap. I really stood out.

Yet despite being so different to my suburb, it still held the telltale signs of obsessive capitalism. People hurried about, often pushing past one another. The sky was clouded with smog, it was like a thick soup that lay over the entire city. The sky scrapers disappeared into the sky above, hiding behind the dark clouds. The trash cans were overflowing. Coffee cups, MASH containers, all precariously balanced on top of one another. One gentle breeze and the tower would come toppling down.

I hurried to the address on the post it note in the folder. As I entered the building I was greeted with a warm and welcoming reception area, with marbled floors and hanging chandelier lights. I walked past the foyer, keeping my head down to avoid the questionable glare of the receptionist. I went to push open the stairwell access when I heard a ding to my right. I whipped my head around and saw an elevator opening, with two women exiting. They were chatting loudly amongst themselves, something about the President and his antics. But I didn't care about them, or the President.

I cared about the elevator.

I quickly jumped in, pressing the 'close doors' button. I stared at the panel on the wall for a minute, unsure what to do next. I pulled out the sticky note, floor 28 was scrawled on the yellowed paper in cursive writing. So, I tentatively pressed the button with that number on it and felt the elevator hum with life. I felt myself rising, going higher and higher as the elevator climbed the building.

It was thrilling.

The doors opened on floor 28 with a ding, and I slowly stepped out. Instead of apartments or an office space, I found myself in a construction area completely devoid of any people. There were tarps everywhere, and walls half built or half destroyed, I could not tell. I made my way to the corner of the building, facing where the eco-talk would be. I then produced my rifle, unfolding it from the trench coat.