Meltdown Ophilion - Book One

03_TUR-LAM 64

All the seats in the lift were taken and Orion was forced to stand, holding on to one of the overhead bars. The passengers in the lift were all residents of building LM-37-B -- levels 280-345 –the top of the building. The lift stopped at seven more floors then went straight down two hundred eighty stories to ground level where a few people exited. It then continued down another five levels to intersect with one of the underground tunnels leading to the mag-way.

For over two hundred years, since ultra-tall citizen towers with more than one hundred stories began to be built, multi-lift shafts were employed. This allowed for efficiency. Orion's building - among the tallest in Kypro - had six lifts for his section of the building alone. The lifts travelled on a cycle, transitioning from local track to express track, then back again.

The lifts ran continuously with an interval of approximately one minute. It was not necessary to call a lift - you simply stepped aboard when it arrived. Orion could not remember a time when the lifts failed to function properly - even during a particularly severe wranth storm that overran the com-zone's electrical buffers. Com-zones in the eighty-fifth century of Galantere possessed stable infrastructure.

Orion steeled his mind for another day at Tur-Lam. Another day to engage in absurdly meaningless actions and earn credit in order to do it again tomorrow.

The lift doors opened and he was thrust into the tunnel - into the flow of Cholan who survived to work or thieve or deal, or pimp, or hustle or cheat their way through this thing they all called life, all the while knowing that the Keneso lived far above them - remote, inaccessible and secure - enjoying the true benefits. On Ophilion this arrangement was not considered injustice but rather, simply, Life. The Cholan could claim their own kinds of comforts, and for most of them, that sufficed. The sting was felt by those who used to be Keneso but had, for various reasons, been expelled.

The tunnel was wide - eight meters across, and four high. The flow of early morning factory workers was at its peak at 2 and 40. Orion was poured like liquid out of the lift, into the river of bodies, and dragged along toward the mag-way with the current. Along the walls of the tunnel were micro-cafes and small shops.

Orion made a few quick steps and forced his way out of the tide, ducking into a com-shop to spend some of his precious credit. He chose a small bright blue chip imprinted with the image of a mrith ship. This just might improve our odds, he thought as the shop keeper scanned his shoulder, deducting the credit. The boy pocketed the chip and hurried back into the current, afraid of arriving late to his work station.

Orion pushed his way towards the mag-way and managed to get on the third train that came through the station. At this time of the morning passengers resembled meat packed into a can - and they felt like it. Orion was mashed in the human press for forty minutes till his stop under the "Tur-Lam 64" production plant.

At least I only have to take one train, he thought, consoling himself. Jemis has to change tree times and it takes him almost twice as long to get to work. Of course, I would rather be doing his work than mine, so I guess the extra travel time makes it even. Well... not entirely, I'd still rather have Jemis' job even if it did take me longer to get there and I had to change trains three times, I'd even change trains four times if I could find something like that.

Laments about his bleak situation were interrupted when he received a sharp blow to his side. It was an inadvertent action; one of the hazards of crowding into the factory lift during early morning rush hour. "Sorry, kid." The culprit was a middle-aged factory worker who, despite his coarse exterior, did seem to have a heart at his core.

"It's alright," Orion responded. An apology from a stranger was an unusual event indeed and it gave the boy an inkling of faith in humanity - like seeing what you think might be a light in the forest when you are lost and cold and confused.