Reap The Whirlwind

Alice snugged up against the wall and waited until the grim, self-absorbed wave that pushed her out of the metro car washed over and disappeared up the escalators. All grey and dull, with splotches of vivid colors becoming rarer and rarer, not so much conformity as camouflage working against the drab, grey concrete. Alice’s coat wasn’t any different.

The crowd wasn’t surging single-mindedly like usual; the sounds of distant gunfire and explosions broke the cohesion, stopping some people and sending ripples of doubt in the opposite direction, like wind blowing against the tide.

Alice still had some time before her first lectures. The crowd seemed to believe safety lay in numbers and not sticking your head out, as crowds usually do. Around here, it was basically a God-given law. Yet she preferred to wait, thinking it would be safer after the wave dispersed, taking up all the attention, and with it the danger.

The tunnels stank of old sweat, urine, and even worse things, having been used for shelter too many times when the situation outside got complicated. Alice checked the raid app. Yellow. Stay sheltered if you can. Well, she couldn’t. And it was almost always yellow nowadays.

You could get used to practically anything, given enough time. And her fellow citizens were real champs at getting used to things.

She joined the last stragglers on the escalator, mostly older people who really shouldn’t even be in the city anymore. The metro tunnels used to be beautiful, lit up like a Christmas tree, the walls decorated with officially sanctioned graffiti that looked more like paintings in a modern art gallery. But not much was left of either; the lightbulbs were crushed or stolen, and the walls were charred from where the few skimmers that broke through the entrance had blown up. Propaganda posters covered the remains of the art. Stay strong, citizens. It’s us against the world, but the truth is on our side. Well, the truth is, we are screwed.

A loud, crunchy, metallic noise rose from behind her, and the escalator stopped. It was one of the last working ones in the part of the network she frequented. Judging from experience, it will remain broken.

Oh well, nothing wrong with some cardio. She climbed the steps, leaving the grannies behind.

As she reached the top, just slightly short of breath, the guard was trying to close the metal grate that was supposed to keep the skimmers out. It was more psychological than anything; the videos she saw of them in action made it clear that they still could get in, if only whoever was sending them really wanted.

There were a lot of little things like that; most of the time, this all felt more like a deliberate insult than an invasion: maximum social disturbance, few actual victims—still, always a few too many for comfort... which seemed to be the point.

“More people behind me,” she said. He didn’t even look at her, just paused pushing and let her squeeze through the remaining opening.

The street entrance used to be all glass; now it was all shattered, with some jagged fragments left, blood traces on them as if someone had been pushed through the opening. The human wave, she thought. Not much reflection, even less conscience.

Staying under the concrete roof, she cautiously looked outside. The crowds on the street had already thinned out, moving out of sight as fast as they could, into the arcades, spreading through the narrow, dark alleys they’d all try to avoid just a year ago, sneaking quickly under the walls with their blind, boarded-up windows, when no other option remained. Stubborn as ants, the lot of them.

Just like her.

Two blocks ahead, then right, up the ancient stone stairs, through a short maze of cobbled streets, and then quickly across the plaza, to the University gates, where the soldiers manning an air defense post should provide her some protection... or at least a distraction. Not the shortest route, but the safest.

It almost went well. She could already see the gates in the opening in front, framed by the peeling, stained walls of the passage. The morning sun lit them up like a portal to ascension.

Then, she heard a quiet buzz.

It differed from a typical drone sound, lower and pulsating with an uneven rhythm that felt almost like an attempt at communication. You could never locate the source, but the fact that you heard it meant it was already too close.

She dashed ahead. Only a few meters remained when a dark, floating shape blocked her way.

She froze as the skimmer slowly drifted lower, the main part coming level with her face, a mess of sensors and black, semi-organic shapes that seemed to move, like a nest of black snakes that somebody dumped a box of electronic parts into. A large, round element emerged from between the coils and opened up, presenting a misty blue lens that focused on her with something that felt like mechanical interest.

The machine was just slightly bigger than a human head, but the array of thin, tentacle-like manipulators hanging from it, waving slowly, like hair of a drowned person, made it seem bigger. Alice felt a cool breeze on her legs and looked down. The downdraft hit the pavement below the machine and spread around, making trash and dead leaves dance around her feet. It wasn’t levitating but hovering—not a ghost, only a weird, scary-looking recon drone.

Unfortunately, not just recon.

Alice looked up and stared into the camera, letting the operator, whoever and whatever that was, get a good last impression of his today’s victim. She knew that the drone pilots working in their army would share such videos, make compilations with funny songs, and upload them online, even though it was strictly forbidden. Maybe the ones behind this device would do that, too. She smiled softly at the camera.

You’d better remember this, whoever you are. Remember it for the rest of your life. Wake up in the middle of the night, if you even sleep, with this image before your eyes.

Never let me go.

The machine’s low buzz was changing tones as if it were talking to itself, thinking. Then another tiny appendage emerged; the moves were quick and decisive this time. Alice flinched as a thin beam of laser light ran over her forehead like a plotter, and raised a hand to cover it, but the skimmer was done already, and the pain in her skin was subtle, just a trace. The buzz became louder, and among the low, cacophonous noise, she could swear she heard garbled words.

“Await extraction.”

The drone jerked back into the opening, and Alice staggered, as if physically released from bounds. She stepped forward and looked out into the plaza.

A car drove past, an old, rusty piece of junk at first glance, but a little too big and too fast for that, and the sound the engine was giving was more fit for a racecar than a dying lemon. It sat low on wide-tired wheels. A disguised limo, Alice had seen a few like that already. Evolutionary adaptations, like the grey clothes.

Skimmer’s operator must have seen a few as well, because it flew right after the car, hit the roof, and exploded. The car didn’t stop; the heavy armor on top, hidden under all the rust, held. But more black dots were descending from the sky.

Alice stepped back and leaned against the wall behind the corner, allowing herself to breathe deeply. Apparently, they were permitted mercy... or whatever that was... when sent to make an example of random people like her, but whatever big-shot was in that car won’t be that lucky. She searched her soul for regret or compassion, but found none. Better him than her, and it wasn’t even selfish; it was literally true, given whose fault all that was.

The sound of gunfire was approaching. Alice peeked out. Another car, a big off-road one with a machine gun nest improvised on top, shooting at the skimmers. All the proper military equipment had already gone to the frontline. The guy behind the gun post looked familiar despite the armor. Alice couldn’t be sure, but she raised her hand anyway. The wave she intended to give somehow changed into a clenched fist. Go, fuck’em up. That one was more appropriate.

By the time she reached the gate, she looked and felt almost normal again. You could get used to practically anything.