Backland: Insecurity (Book #2) by Shelnutt Jeff

Author:Shelnutt, Jeff [Shelnutt, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Horse & Buggy Publications
Published: 2014-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

6

Kyle’s route took him through a high-end commercial district and subsequently, past several night clubs. It was Friday night and the city was showing off its seedier side.

He passed across the street from where the line for the Fuzz Factory, currently the trendiest after hours destination, snaked its way back half a block. As was typical, the majority of those waiting in the queue were killing time in a neuro-trance. What struck Kyle as he paused for a moment to observe the scene was how the club-goers, swaying back and forth to the low, rhythmic pulse emanating from deep within the secluded sectors of the building, looked for all the world like standing, staring corpses.

This club’s wild appeal was apparently due to its no restrictions policy. Every shade of preference could be found within its walls. Anti-discrimination laws made tolerance obligatory. However, at the Fuzz, the most outrageous and unthinkable acts were not merely tolerated but encouraged. Kyle was well aware from overhearing his co-workers’ conversations of the utter animal-like debauchery that went on inside. What he couldn’t understand was why it was the city’s young elite who preferred the club so exclusively.

Strolling another block, he stopped at a crosswalk and waited for permission to cross. Auto-pods slipped stealthily by, their purring engines barely audible above the night life din. A safety drone appeared in his peripheral, hovering beside him. The hairs on the back of his neck tingling at its presence, Kyle tried not to glance in its direction. Suddenly, the journal he’d almost forgotten about felt like a lead bar under his coat.

“Halt, citizen! You are in the process of jaywalking!” The steel voice boomed forth from the drone two feet from Kyle’s ear. He automatically ducked his head and threw up is arms, cringing at the sheer volume of the command.

In the moment it took him to regain his mental equilibrium, he assumed he was the citizen in question. But he hadn’t moved from the sidewalk. Quickly dismissing the thought, he glanced across the street in the direction the drone was heading.

He noticed the young lady frozen in the street, her eyes rolled back in her head, her body twitching spasmodically. She had no chance. The tires of the auto-pod bearing down upon her squealed as its brakes locked in protest. Though she wasn’t hit at full speed, the impact was enough to toss her up and over the hood, her body slamming against the wind screen. The vehicle came to a sudden halt and she rolled off of the pod onto the pavement with an audible thump.

It could not have been more than three seconds from the moment the drone had issued its warning until the woman hit the ground. Kyle knew she must’ve had a seizure. Under normal conditions, it was difficult to accidentally get hit by an auto-pod. Neuro-chips automatically synced with all the sensors and traffic cams in the immediate proximity. But certain people occasionally experienced adverse reactions to the neural stream. In

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