Chapter 1 - Flight mode

Nothing quickens resourcefulness as much as knowing that you’re about to be killed, and Tomie was feeling just about the most resourceful she’d ever been.

Without changing into her casuals or even taking any of her stuff (what little she had was worthless anyways), she slipped out of her coffinbox apartment and slid down the ladder.

All the way down she could hear the broadcast, looping in the other thin-walled coffins as she passed by.

“I have no doubt,” said administrator Eddie Best, “that these people, no, not people, this filth, these vermin filling up our streets and our properties, are the cause of all our troubles. Believe me when I say, and I know what I’m talking about, that we’d be better off without them, the whole lot. They’re like bugs, you know what I mean, exactly like an infestation, and at some point you’ve gotta say enough. At some point you’ve gotta take out the trash. And I know, cause nobody knows better than me, that you know just what to do.”

Tomie sped down the hall, determined not to stop for anything, headed straight for the lift. But she couldn’t help slowing, then stopping, stunned into a gawking silence by one of the floor’s only windows. From one hundred and fifty floors up she could barely see the distrant streets below, and the view was marred by densely packed mega-towers all around, but still the chaos was clear. Fires spewed out from the floors below and above. Hordes ran along the belts and bridges in the way only bloodthirsty mobs and their prey can, with hatred hasting their steps like some kind of demonic fuel. The spell was broken as two hovercars smashed into each other mid-air and fused into a ball of heated plastics and metal, and tumbled away into the night.

Tomie disappeared into the nearest lift, the doors closing far too slowly for her taste.

Things had been riling up pretty bad recently, with restlessness and undirected anger building up in the populace like pus in a hot blister. Times were hard for everyone, and only getting worse. All of the usual plagues of a civilization’s downfall were playing out perfectly, a well choreographed danse of chaos, fear, and confusion making people feel like there had to be someone to blame.

As always, it would’ve been too easy to look up. Too easy to rise against the fascism of rampant corporate greed and dismantle the systemic inequalities that pressed down on the masses. But the rich got to the top by having manipulation down to a tee, and they knew just what to do when the hungry eyes of the people turned to them.

Pit them against each other.

And there was no better target than the odds, the SHOs, those unfortunate creations of accelerated genome research brought on by the super-intelligent algorithms. 

There was no place left on earth that was safe for people like her, people bred out of some fantasy for genetic variations that resembled the beings of our dreams. Dwarves, elves, anthromorphs, anything you could think of, someone or some firm had decided to develop and bring to life. Tomie was just another victim of these experiments, another child born with the curse of genetic gifts. She’d never asked for it, never wanted it, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be beaten to death by a hopeless throng of assholes either.

The doors barely open, Tomie slipped out and ran. No, walk fast, don’t run, don’t pull attention to yourself. Even though she was a SHO, she was lucky enough to have traits that weren’t obviously visible. She had the advantage of not being known, not being seen if she was careful. And she had a plan, one that she’d been cooking up for months in case things got this bad.

She boarded the zipper on the last car, trying to meld in with some factory workers to worn-out and exhausted to participate in the riots. It wasn’t hard to pull off, she hadn’t even changed out of her basic onesie from her own factory job, pulling heated cables down the conduits where the automation always failed. It wasn’t hard to act the part either. She could easily pass as an overworked labour slave, dishevelled and sweaty, flushed in panic that would probably be taken for the disoriented look factory workers had after twenty hours shifts.

  Being with the other workers made her feel safe for a moment, as though everything was strangely back to normal. Another zipper ride back to work, another day on the job. But none of them got off at her stop. None even looked up as she got out. The white collars hurrying in all directions on the platform did look at her though, in disgust and suspicion. But they were too pressed to get to their jobs, the promise of salary under a threat of being pink-slipped too overwhelming to bother with trying to round up SHOs. That could wait till after their shift, when they could take out the rage they harbored for management by finding some SHO freak to pulverize.

In the distance, a crowd of white colars off work were chasing down a a couple of dwarves, trying to set fire to their beards. Tomie couldn’t look, couldn’t try to do something about it. It would be her end, and all she could do now was try to survive.

The chances were slim, a long shot to a target she couldn’t even see, but she had to keep going or die trying. Into the headquartes of Deep Reach Operations she went, trying to keep her head up and shoulders back, as though she was supposed to be there. Maybe a janitor, or a maintenance worker, but definitely not a freak, not odd, not a SHO.

The three-hundreth floor was aseptically quiet, a harsh contrast to the rampant chaos outside. The hallways were wide and colorful, walled with frescos of nebulae and galactic spirals, carpeted with fluffy patterns of stars. The offices of DRO were as lavish and prestigious as one might expect of the space mining monopoly, a testament to the excessive wealth they hauled in from the outer reaches.

It was only by luck that Tomie had a contact here. Not a friend, not per se, but the closest thing to one she could have right now. He’d often said he owed her for saving him from a mugging behind the Orb night club, and it was time to cash in. If she played her cards right, he was her ticket out of here, off this world and into some semblance of hope.

His office had to be somewhere around here, this was his department. Or at least, he’d said it was. Did she even know him that well? A new panic started welling up inside Tomie. What was she doing here? Doing her best to act casual, she followed the hallways, mapping out the turns in her mind and trying to read the nameplates without lingering on them too long. If she worked here, she wouldn’t need to be reading each one as desperately as she felt.

The last bit of hallway was coming up and still she hadn’t found the right name. What would she do if this didn’t work? She’d have to get out of here, back down and maybe find a car, get the hell out of-

“Excuse me, miss, what are you doing here?”

Tomie’s heart must’ve exploded and fused with her brain. Everything was hot and fuzzy, and she could do nothing else but turn around slowly, trembling and hoping her tears would pass for sweat, even though that wasn’t much better.

A security guard was blocking the way out, glaring at her in suspicion. “You better come with me,” he said, reaching for her with his stunglove.

“Hold up, hold on right there!” said Devon, and Tomie’s brain and heart melted back apart into some cohesiveness. He was there! “That’s, uh, that’s one of our recruits. I’ll ask you to kindly let her go, I’ll take it from here.”

“All right sir, as you wish. Have a good day,” said the guard, nodding to both of them.

“Tomie, what the hell are you doing here? What are you thinking? I mean, I know what you’re probably doing here, but still, what the hell?” whispered Devon, glancing around in worry that they might be watched.

“Devon, please, you’ve gotta get me out of here. I won’t last a week and you know it. Please Dev!”

For a moment, Devon and Tomie locked eyes, and the world stopped. She knew this was it, either he would say yes, or -

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Alright, alright Tomie. But shut up, don’t say anything. Do exactly as I say, and absolutely nothing else, and just follow me.”

And as he spoke he lead her back to a door she’d skipped, one that had no name plate. It unlocked with the touch of his hand and they stepped through.

It seemed to be a whole other floor, a totally different place. On either side were rows of workstations with employees, dressed just like Devon, too busy to look up from their screens. Tomie stuck to Devon’s side as closely as she dared.

“Look, I’m not important here, but I might have just enough power to get you through,” whispered Devon, quiet and cool. “If we play it right, nobody will notice. I know what’s going on out there. Saw the broadcast earlier. Everyone’s been talking about it, going nuts. To tell you the truth, the thought had crossed my mind that you might come around here. You’re lucky I just got in. Some dickwads threw a SHO onto the track, held up the whole line-” Devon suddenly realized what he was staying and glanced over in guilt at Tomie’s shocked face. “Sorry,” he said, “I’ll shut up. Just over here.”

Devon dropped into a station and immediately went to work.

“Alright, you’re keeping your name, Tomie -?” he asked

“Just Tomie,” she answered.

“All right, fine, just Tomie. Not too weird. Let’s keep going.”

Tomie looked around as Devon’s hands moved in a blur, his viewscreen translucent and invisible from her angle. There must have been close to a hundred other stations in this room, each person busily managing something entirely mysterious, but likely at least minimally important. Deep Reach Operations had, after all, the biggest hold on out-of-world mining, excavation, terraforming, and heaps of other fields of practice the public could only suspect.

“Ok, that’s it for you. Now follow me, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Devon left his station and led Tomie in a new direction, towards a lift at the far end of the room. The lift’s acceleration was barely noticeable, but something about it made Tomie’s guts feel like they were going way faster than you’d think.

“I’m going to drop you off at the pad, then I’ve gotta go. So listen to me, cause once we get there you’re on your own. You’re going to board craft LB-217. There’s a locker on the way, room T-22. Get in there, find a jump suit, should be orange, put it on, and get to the boarding pad. Once you’re there, don’t say anything. Don’t ask any questions. Don’t do anything else than walk straight in, head up to the chambers and find an empty pod. Lie down, and wait. Don’t get up. Don’t go pee. Don’t look at anyone. You understand?”

Tomie nodded mutely. She tucked her mess of hair behind her ears and wiped her face, then gave Devon a hug.

Devon stiffened and pushed her away, then softened as he looked into her eyes. 

“Tomie, listen, all this… It’s horrible. I’m - I’m sorry that -”

Tomie’s guts came to a stop and the doors wooshed open. Without another word, Devon pushed her out and pressed a button, giving her just enough time to turn around and see him disappear behind the doors.

And this place… it was just huge. 

An immense area filled with smaller buildings, pipings and steam rising from gratings and vents, lit by innumerable red and yellow cautionary bulbs. And in the distance, over everything else, towered a ship. The jumpcraft LB-217.

Tomie stiffened her spine and did what Devon told her. There was T-22, the locker, with rack filled with uniforms. But there were others in here, she couldn’t change in front of others, risk them seeing… 

There was only one size of the new onesie (off-yellow rather than orange), but she grabbed one and tried to walk away like someone that’s in urgent need of the toilet, then ducked into a stall and crossed her fingers it’d be ok. Devon said not to go pee, but surely he meant once she was on the ship?

With efficiency, she slipped off her factory onesie and, along with all its holes and tears and years of memories, stuffed it into the toilet. Thankfully, the flush was strong enough to suck it away, gone with a gulp down the sewers like she swallowed away her past. She pulled on the new onesie, and though it was much softer and better quality, it was much too big for her. But before she could start worrying, the fabric tightened and reshaped to mold her body perfectly. Much fancier than the loose and stiff grey one she’d worn day-in and out.

It wasn’t hard to find her way to the pad. From nearly anywhere she could see the massive nose of the ship, pointed to the foggy reddish glare of the sky. It was crazy to think that there were stars up there, and that soon she be able to see them, be with them!

She craned her neck back to see the sheer size of the vessel, and nearly missed the panel that gave its name - DRO Jumpcraft, PK-945.

Tomie did a double take and gaped at the sign. This wasn’t LB-217? She swiveled and had to stop herself from asking a passerby, when over someone’s shoulder she saw another ship, much smaller and shabbier, sunken behind this one.

She hurried over to its sign and read - DRO Jumpcraft, LB-217. With relief she strode up the platform as though she’d always done this, merging with a couple of other people with the same uniform, past a guard and a couple of white-colars discussing something that seemed perplexing on their notepads

Her eyes snapped to a ladder with a panel indicating the pod chambers, and she found herself in a narrow alley of pods, box shaped and not dissimilar in size to her coffinbox apartment. But, with some frustration, Tomie noted that these were spaced apart more than any coffinbox, allowing for at least a semblance of personal space.

Most pods already had occupants, the lids already shut. A supervisor was passing from one to the other, checking on the new recruits before sealing them in place.

Tomie lay down in her pod, as Devon had instructed, and waited. She wasn’t safe yet. She knew something could still go wrong. Someone would come and notice her intrusion, notice she wasn’t supposed to be there, notice that she was-

“Stand up,” said the supervisor, looking down through her notepad. Tomie shot to her feet.

“You don’t remember protocol?” she asked, exasperated, “remove your clothes before entering the pod.”

Tomie stiffened, the blood immediately draining from her face.

“Well, come on, off with it!”

With shaking hands Tomie began to undo her onesie. This was it. As soon as she took off her clothes, she’d be seen. They’d know. It was over. She covered herself with her hands as best she could and held her breath.

The supervisor scrolled through her pad, then reached down into a stachel and pulled out an item.

“Here, put this on,” she ordered, without looking up from her notes.

Tomie’s mind wasn’t working well, covered in cold sweats and the shivers of uncontrollable anxiety. She heard herself say something distantly, before she even realized her mouth was moving, “What is it?” Some sensible part of her reeled in horror. Stupid, stupid, don’t ask questions, just play the part! she chastised herself, but it was too late.

The supervisor looked up at her suspiciously, but seeing what was assuredly a look of dazed stupidity splayed on Tomie’s face, sighed and explained as though to a child. “Your suit, smartie. Don’t you know what you’re getting into? Didn’t pay attention to you prep formations? Well, too late now. You’ll learn one way or the other. Now put it on, and lie back down.”

Tomie mechanically looped the necklace around her neck and felt the weight of the pendant drop on her chest, then folded backwards into the pod. No way, she thought, as the supervisor entered the commands to shut her pod, no fucking way. The supervisor turned and left, moving onto the next recruit, without ever having really looked at Tomie’s naked body. I can’t believe it, there’s just no way.

She’d done it. She’d made it. The supervisor hadn’t even noticed. Of course, it was still possible, but less and less likely, that someone would notice. That someone would come by and open the lid and pull her out and it would be over. But no, maybe it actually was working.

Tomie breathed, maybe for the first time since she’d first seen the broadcast. That asshole Eddie Best, along with all the other rich bastards that hoarded more wealth than sanity could contain. She was finally getting away from them, from the madness on Earth.

It had to be better off-world. She’d heard so many times that the segregation, the discrimination, the hate and madness, was less oppressive out there. People didn’t have time to care about who or what a person was when they were worked to the bone, and there was no elite to turn the poor on each other. Even the employers didn’t care once you were out there, as long as your performance was up to par. 

Or, at least, that’s what she was banking on.

It’d be funny, not ha-ha funny, but strange funny to wake up so far away that earth would be just an idea around some distant star. How would it feel, she wondered, to travel all that distance. How would it feel when the pod began to ready her for the voyage, began to put her to sleep for the long haul. Maybe it’d be like trying to fall asleep in bed, when you’re lying there, waiting for sleep, thinking it’ll never come, until all of a sudden you’re-