City of Ice and Dreams (Tales From A Warming Planet Book 3) by J.G. Follansbee

Author:J.G. Follansbee [Follansbee, J.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joseph G. Follansbee / Fyddeye Media
Published: 2018-02-14T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

An excerpt from the diary of Artemis Macedon

I followed Ticino’s group for a couple of days, just to make sure he didn’t have some other idea than taking people back to Nordenskjöld. Once they were away from Bruce’s network, I couldn’t eavesdrop, because they didn’t have the wherewithal to set up their own network. Ticino, however, called a halt after a day, and he appeared to wait for something, glancing up at the sky now and then. I took a risk and presented myself, despite his warning to stay away given back at the refugee camp. I was thinking of the other poor people whom he’d managed to drag with him. There were kids in that group. He wasn’t interested in my offer to tell my benefactor, saying he had more resources backing him up than anything I could bring to bear. He had to mean Isorropian resources, and Galla came to mind.

Ticino’s behavior made sense if Galla had put him up to it, but I could only speculate. Maybe Ticino is in the same mold as Galla, who takes psychopathology and recklessness to a new level. After all, he exiled me out here. In any case, Ticino threatened to kill me if I showed my face again. I believed him and retreated. He’d shoot his own mother. I made my way back to Sento and her group. I don’t know what happened to him and his group, but my level of confidence in his success is low.

I didn’t sign up to be a spy. I didn’t imagine spending all my time surveilling a gaggle of vagrants chasing a mirage. I once led a team of warriors protecting our beautiful city and Antarctica from base behavior rooted in the tragedies of the industrial age. I can’t help but laugh now when I write “our beautiful city.” My enemies in Isoroppia tossed me onto the ice like so much garbage when I got too close to their hypocrisies. Honestly, I’m as much a failure as they are. For example, I was as surprised as the pilgrims at the appearance of the herd of seals. Like them, I thought the species was extinct. It’s Isorropian orthodoxy that humans are the root of all environmental evil. We’ve made a religion of our own style of mastery over the environment, veiled in humble rhetoric about living in harmony with it, and when it shocks us with the unexpected, we don’t know what to make of it. I suspect that’s how Isorropia is dealing with these refugees and their march to its gates. It’s watching this drama, I know. I see the drones at a hundred meters, feeding video while the pundits congratulate themselves at the city’s perfection even as the barbarians approach. Pride goes before the fall, someone once said.

Disillusionment won’t feed me, though. My benefactor has kept me alive, but I’m a convenience for him, eyes on a prize. The object of the spy’s desire changes, though. He despises his quarry at first, which keeps him wary and alert.

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