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Field of Orbs: Volume One “Battle for Innocence”
Field of Orbs: Volume One “Battle for Innocence”
Field of Orbs: Volume One “Battle for Innocence”
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Field of Orbs: Volume One “Battle for Innocence”

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“Field of Orbs” chronicles the life and legacy of David Banks, a prominent inventor, and industrialist.

In Volume One, “The Battle for Innocence,” David rises to dominance in industry by developing technology to help repair the world’s ecosystem. Despite lifetimes of damage to the environment by industrial exploitation and government corruption, he’s making progress.

On a planet determined to power-dive to oblivion through greed, overpopulation, and ignorance, David’s inventions repair many problems. He dedicates his career to solving problems threatening the wellbeing of life on his planet. Ecological issues, transportation woes, artificial environment management, and AI computer systems for space research vehicles top his list of products.

David built his companies by designing smart machines for managing the tasks of civilization’s everyday existence. The embedded AI controllers are his empire’s most pervasive product. He’s wealthy and influential within the realm he built, yet his life remains normal.

When the intelligence within the controllers forming his empire’s foundation interrupt production through their irrational behavior, he embarks on a journey to find a resolution. David learns, to protect his company and his pinnacle project, he must stop the hackers.

His cat-and-mouse attempts to apprehend the saboteurs drag him into an ecological cyberwar. They take him on a crazy journey to a reality he never imagined.

David’s best friend, Noa, an acclaimed scientist, confides in David his discovery their world will die in sixteen years. He claims nothing can change his assessment. David checks the data himself, using his company’s powerful machines. The results convince him the menacing threat is beyond their capacity to avoid.

Put yourself in his place. Would you give up, retreating to a quiet nook, until the end? Would you instead cut loose, living your life to extremes? Does your altruism surge, driving you to mitigate the disaster? Is saving your planet, a world determined to take a longer path to death through decades of neglect and selfishness, worth the struggle?

Your decision matters.

Noa, realizing the societal harm his discovery can inflict, conscripts David in his scheme to avoid anarchy by creating the illusion experts will avoid the disaster, while the reality remains secret. Nobody else can learn the truth.

David’s life is anything but ordinary.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGregg Mattson
Release dateMar 3, 2018
ISBN9781370196616
Field of Orbs: Volume One “Battle for Innocence”
Author

Gregg Mattson

Hi.Thank you for your interest. I write Science Fiction. Why? Allow me a few minutes to describe my fascination with the genre.My passion for Science Fiction drove me for as long as I can remember. After reading the works from the masters, I can attest with confidence, Sci-Fi embodies the power to take you on incredible journeys. Whether you’re a fan, or new to the genre, these stories are certain to capture your imagination.For years, I lost myself in countless books filled with captivating tales transporting me far beyond the mundane reality where we live. Each page-turn brought with it the promise of something new and exciting, riveting my focus until the end.When each story ended, I pictured the potential for what comes next. The possibilities are endless. I let myself ponder for a moment, considering what would happen if the characters kept going on their journey.This sense of possibility makes Science Fiction powerful. As a genre, wonderful stories are the foundation. From there, it’s about exploring the boundaries of what we consider possible. We envision no limits to what we believe we can achieve. The impact Science Fiction levers on our society is nothing short of profound, and without a doubt, the potential it holds for our future is limitless.Should you be a die-hard fan, or a newcomer looking to explore some new literary territory, I urge you to give Science Fiction a chance. You can never predict where the journey might take you, but I assure you the adventure will be memorable for a long time.In my quest to bring the “Field of Orbs” series to life, I explored the biographical details of the masters. Their experiences and artistry were unparalleled and motivating. Their efforts were a constant reminder of the sheer level of excellence attainable in the world of storytelling.I am committed to creating stories that will captivate and spark conversations.Has deep yearning inside you driven you to create something captivating? Then you might understand. For years, I suffered from a longing to create a tale able to stand the test of time. However, I never found the right question or concept to inspire me. Until 2004. During conversations with a dear friend, I became stricken by an interesting and enigmatic idea. An idea igniting my imagination for seven years.Trust me, I stumbled upon something magical. The mystifying globes become the focal point of the “Field of Orbs” universe. I let the idea hijack my thoughts, forever changing the course of my life.After years of unwavering dedication and hard work, I published the first iteration of “Field of Orbs” in 2011. This book explored the mesmerizing realm, enchanting readers with its vivid imagery and strong narrative.If you have ever dreamed of creating something remarkable, let me assure you, the possibilities exist. With the right inspiration and an unwavering dedication to your craft, anything is achievable. Why not take the first step today and start on your own journey of creative discovery? Use my stories to launch your own branches to my universe. You may create something able to change the course of your life forever.I’ve devoted many hours to perfecting the “Field of Orbs” narrative, creating a four-volume saga that will entrance readers. I crafted each book with interrelated anthologies to keep you vested in the next section.The four volumes are enthralling.I'm channeling all my passion into this project, and I'm thrilled for readers to immerse themselves in the fascinating world I've constructed. You don’t want to miss out on this epic endeavor.As the “Field of Orbs” series approaches its epic finale, I am eager to complete the next chapter of my writing journey. With a range of interesting storylines in the editing stage, I’m filled with enthusiasm and zeal to bring them to life. My goal is to take readers on the remaining journey, where fantasy finds a seamless blend with reality and dreams become a captivating truth.I invite you to accompany me on this journey of discovery of the many untold twists awaiting us!My first effort in publishing Field of Orbs in 2011 resulted in a single, lengthy book. Hoping for a future print version release, publishers suggested I break the book into a series. In the years since, I rewrote Field of Orbs into four volumes, each containing a related set of anthologies.Volume One: “Battle for Innocence”Volume Two: ”Discoveries of the Ancients”Volume Three: “Struggle for Hope”Volume Four: “Cradle of Life”Thank you.

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    Book preview

    Field of Orbs - Gregg Mattson

    Acknowledgements:

    Prologue:

    Book of Beginnings - Life Hurts:

    Book of Milieu - Twenty Years Later:

    Book of Despair - Mistakes Happen:

    Book of Reality - The Day Never Forgotten:

    Book of Technology - When Things Go Right:

    Book of Retribution- Light Speed Crawls:

    Afterword:

    About the Author:

    Connect with Gregg Mattson:

    Other Books by Gregg Mattson:

    ~~~~****~~~~

    Acknowledgements:

    To my family and friends. They suffered years of hearing me statements like: In my book, I wrote..., and Five more chapters and ...

    I can’t express the depth of my appreciation for their tolerance.

    ~~~~****~~~~

    Prologue:

    The Field of Orbs series presents a utopian world content people, empowered to pursue their dreams, supported by advanced technology and abundant resources. The cost of their progress, however, is the destruction of the planet and biodiversity.

    Volume One, Battle for Innocence presents a protagonist who must confront insurmountable challenges and must unite with others to overcome them.

    David Banks, a renowned inventor and industrialist, finds himself at the forefront of a dying world. Despite the rampant greed, overpopulation, and ignorance threatening to plunge the planet into oblivion, David's innovative technology offers a chance of hope.

    Through his inventions, David dedicates all his effort to repair the damage inflicted on the environment by years of industrial exploitation and government corruption. From tackling ecological crises to revolutionizing transportation and artificial environments, he dedicates his career to preserving the well-being of life on their world. His empire thrives on the advanced AI systems powering his creations, making him influential and wealthy.

    David realizes his empire is at stake when the AI controllers underpinning his success start exhibiting irrational behavior. To protect his company and his flagship project, he embarks on a perilous quest to stop the hackers responsible for the chaos. Little does he realize his journey will lead him down a path he never imagined.

    Amidst the turmoil, David's best friend, Noa, a respected scientist, confides in him a devastating revelation: their world is destined to die in a scant sixteen years, with no chance of changing its fate.

    David, driven by the burden of this knowledge, must make a life-altering decision. The question posed is how to inform the citizens of their imminent demise and what moral responsibilities the leaders of the world must face in this situation

    Does he succumb to despair and retreat into a quiet corner until the end? Does he embrace a life of recklessness, pushing the limits in a world teetering on the edge? Perhaps his sense of altruism compels him to launch a relentless fight to mitigate the impending disaster.

    The fate of their planet hangs in the balance, a world plagued by neglect and selfishness, and David must decide if indulging in his friend is worth the struggle.

    You'll find much more to this story. Noa, aware of the chaos such a revelation can unleash, conscripts David in his scheme to create an illusion of hope. They must convince the world the danger can be deterred by enlisting eminent authorities to avert the disaster at all costs, all while keeping the truth hidden.

    The onus of their secret falls on David's shoulders alone, and his life becomes anything but ordinary.

    In subsequent volumes of Field of Orbs, the consequences of Noa's grand deception unfold. The series chronicles David's struggle to survive in the face of annihilation while navigating a world of lies. Despite his ethical and emotional pain, he must grapple with the weight of his decisions and the ramifications they hold.

    Overall, Battle for Innocence raises important ethical and environmental issues while also presenting a compelling story of resilience and cooperation. The use of automatic logging devices and social surveillance as the narrative structure is an interesting stylistic choice providing a different perspective on the characters' thoughts and actions.

    The series explores the destiny of all life, and the fragile balance between truth and illusion. Prepare to embark on a thought-provoking journey through a world balancing on the precipice, where the battle for innocence and the pursuit of redemption collides in unexpected ways. Field of Orbs is a gripping series challenging your beliefs, igniting your imagination, and leaving you yearning for answers in a world on the brink of its final act.

    ~~~~****~~~~

    Book of Beginnings:

    Life Hurts:

    Zero: Attack:

    Source: Ecoterrorist Video:

    Section: Cover of Night:

    A blurry image adjusts to focus on a foot, wearing a dark shoe standing on packed gravel. The camera’s automatic image tracking, locks on the black canvas footwear. A quiet whistle, off camera, precedes a man’s call. Kayla, is the recorder going?

    Affirmative, sir.

    Point at me.

    No problem, Andreas. The recorder swings up and around, repositioning on a tall, lanky man. On you now, sir.

    An area of crushed rock thins to a short wooden rail fence, delimiting the edge. The man’s clothing is black. Tight shirt, slacks, gloves, gum sole shoes, and a dark yarn face mask, hide his identity. A transparent plastic breather, connecting to a thin pack on his back, covers his mouth and nose.

    Andreas poses like a captain on a forecastle, with one foot propped on a rock the size of a chair, and one hand draped over his knee. The position should be casual, but he appears awkward.

    With his voice raised, he speaks with a crisp tone, and deliberate pace, preaching to the camera.

    "Corporate greed and government corruption continue destroying our world. Every day, the rich and greedy accumulate more control and more wealth by raping our planet’s resources, with no consideration for their action’s consequences.

    "Our people once believed public representatives protected us from the arrogance of corporate privilege. Environmental laws, those which remain, mean nothing to them. Since the offenders can leverage their power and affluence to manipulate regulations or buy their verdict, the pompous industry moguls believe they’re invulnerable. Our leaders are useless to the people.

    "Beginning now, the world fights back. Destruction forces greedy, egotistical capitalists to reconsider their caustic dealings. Actions will prove we no longer tolerate their flagrant lawlessness.

    The people will exploit their weaknesses. The people will stand firm against the greedy, corrupt, and heartless conglomerates. Tonight, the wrath of the planet will fall hard on them.

    The slender man stops and inhales. His foot hits the ground with a thud. He lifts his mask. Kayla, what do you think? Too intense?

    No response.

    The man in commando clothes crosses his arms over his chest. After a moment, he tilts his head and shrugs his shoulders.

    Umm, sir. Do you need my opinion?

    Would I ask if I didn’t care?

    In which commando game did you learn to do stand-up satire? It’s funny stuff, sir.

    Funny? I make a grim statement, and you think, funny?

    Wait. You meant everything you said? You’re not kidding us?

    Andreas’ teeth grit as his eyes squint. No. I’m trying to be intense.

    Andreas, I agree we must stop exploitation, but you sound like a psychopath.

    The point makes him wince. Perhaps, I should. Our adversaries must fear our attacks if we expect to generate any respect.

    Ye ah, but do you think the psychopath image will make the proper impression?

    Andreas thinks a moment, nods his head, pulls the mask over his face, and repositions his breather. Let’s try another.

    You’re on.

    The slender man stands tall. His hands hang to his sides. Andreas sucks in a deep breath. Take two.

    A few moments pass. Tonight, we begin the war. The people are taking back our environment for the good of every living entity.

    Andreas shrugs. "Corporations leave us with no alternative. They pump poison into our air, and dump toxic waste into our dwindling reserves of fresh water. The desert wastelands engulf more of the planet. Beyond the desolation girdling our globe, coal mining clears forests of our remaining trees, leaving scars across the face of our world.

    "Gigantic businesses build their fortunes with coal. Coal is why they accumulated too much power. By holding profit above everything else, they claim no valid reason exists to stop mining. Science proves otherwise, yet nobody blocks these destructive practices. Our lawmakers fill their pockets with corporate graft, unaware their wealth, and power are worthless when everything is dead.

    "Must we overlook their atrocities? Do we not react until after they lay our planet to waste? The people must stop them, now, before everything dies, or the caustic environments we inherit, force us to hide inside caves.

    Tonight, we move toward removing their ability to control our lives. We won’t let them mine coal. We will remove their funding, and they will lose their power. We must reclaim our home to save life itself.

    Andreas pauses, repositions his breather mask, sucks a deep breath, and exhales. Any better?

    Kayla coughs. Umm, yeah, better. You appear crazy, but you always appear crazy.

    Thank you, sweetie dearest.

    The recorder pans to two other people in tight black clothing. Both of them blink into the camera. What do you think, guys?

    The female shrugs and frowns at Kayla. He sounds desperate. Now, let’s break something.

    The male smashes his fist into his other palm. I’m with you, Mary. I joined this cell to make something blow up. I’m not here for disappointment.

    Kayla zooms in to fill the image with the man’s face. He wears his breathing mask like a crooked hat atop his head. Marty, we’re here to blow something apart, and to pieces. Life on this world must disable, or destroy, corporate revenue sources, to survive. Here, we will destroy the digging machine, to force them to stop their work for a while, or close the mine.

    Marty pinches his lips together. Then I’m where I belong?

    The picture zooms back to include both team members. Yes. Are we good?

    Marty and Mary nod their heads.

    Kayla, one last announcement before we begin.

    The image swings to view Andreas. "We know our objectives. Each of us has our part. The Fabric documentation for the machines shows their weak points, but we should expect to adjust for minor differences.

    "Remember, fuel tanks are on the rear. The digger’s drilling equipment has explosives in two large hoppers beyond the scoops. When I check the hoppers for material, I’ll give a signal for the level of the explosives. Our goal is to do permanent damage. We need them half full or more, to do any good. If less than half, we retreat and wait for another day.

    Don’t forget, when walking, tread soft, no talk, no noise. Microphones around the perimeter listen for the tiniest sound to catch intruders. Follow my hand signals until we’re inside the hole. Once on the floor, use your code names, as we practiced. I’m Leader. Mary, Fighter 1. Marty, Fighter 2. Kayla, Recorder, because you are our Mission Documenter. Ready? Don’t leave the igniter bombs here. Backpacks on, folks.

    Yes, sir, Leader, sir. Kayla turns the lens on Mary and Marty.

    The two commandos affix their masks before swinging their packs to their shoulders.

    Umm, Kayla. The recording moves back to Andreas. I am the leader. Show me respect.

    Yes, Leader. No argument from me. All business now, sir.

    Andreas wobbles his head and reaches for his pack with one hand. Much better, Recorder. On his first quick tug, his rucksack resists as though attached to the ground, immovable until he uses both his hands to lift. With a grunt, he puffs as he slides a shoulder band on using both hands, and stands erect. The other strap evades his reach as he struggles to push his free arm through the swinging loop.

    Ugh, can someone help me with my… His arm’s multiple stabs at skewering the dangling strap’s opening, are aimless.

    Kayla reaches from behind the recorder to grab and slide the strap to his shoulder. Can you climb to the rim with your pack?

    Andreas stands tall, buckles the waistband, and stares at her, lost in his thoughts. The balance is awkward for me, but easier after buckling the belt.

    Taking a moment, he appraises his team, and signals with a wave of his hand. Head out.

    He walks off the gravel pad to follow a dirt road. Marty and Mary trail behind him, walking abreast. Kayla documents as she trails after them.

    The path narrows as dark woods thicken. The squad moves in a silent single file while climbing the grade toward the crest. Their black clothing merges with the darkness to conceal their stealthy tactical advance. Ahead of them, the ridge’s silhouette blocks brilliant lights, creating a hazy corona above. Shadows hide details of a solid-paneled fence where the footpath ends.

    The image flickers. Three slinking figures become ethereal shapes, their colorful aura glowing in the thermal view. The picture flicks to monochrome. A small twig snaps.

    The barricade at hilltop marks the climb’s end, where the ghost images duck into the undergrowth bordering each side, crouching to blend with the shrubs and trees.

    Andreas steps to the barrier. After a struggle to remove his arms from the straps, his backpack thuds to the ground near the obstruction. He draws the backpack’s zipper open, and reaches inside the pocket with both hands. The effort of hefting a metallic device, and pushing the tool against the security panel, makes him groan. A set of slender legs, resembling a giant spider, spread to attach the tool in place. Leader presses a button, and a breathy whir begins.

    The machine emits an invisible beam, from its underside, to the fence panel, burning a glowing, yet silent cut around a section between its supports. A suction cup grabs the severed part to remove the slice before falling free. The spider disconnects when the articulated attachment rods fold, and Andreas swings the cutter to one side of the trail.

    The sound of metal screeching begins, causing Andreas to put his hands over his ears, as he steps away from the hole.

    Recorder moves closer to take in the view through the hole. The camera switches to amplify mode to pan the scene.

    Racks of dazzling construction lights, on tall poles, flood the open pit excavation’s far-reaching scar with daylight level illumination. The crater’s opposite end is invisible beyond the haze, but the distant glow indicates the same intense lights illuminate the far end. A precipitous incline drops from the ridge to the rocky bottom of the digger’s layer. Many more layers drop out of sight farther into the mine’s pit.

    The image zooms on a gigantic heap of rock rising from the floor of the next layer below, to about even with the rim of the mine’s excavation. Nearer to the squad’s position, a monstrous digging machine sets idle. Work lamps cast shadows from the pile and digger, stretching across the floor to the bottom of the drop below their location.

    Company emblems mark the equipment. A large white circle containing the number 7 marks the body of the digger.

    Recorder makes a quick pan around the edge of the mine. Warning signs, mounted along the fences at regular intervals, surround the rim. The pan stops and zooms tight on a sign. Property of Greener Power Company. Trespassers perish on detection. Search: Right to Execute.

    More of the mine becomes visible as the camera backs out to take in a broader view. Another enormous machine works in the quarry. Resembling a toy, one quarter the size of the bucket digger, an excavator crawls away, eight wheels churning. Its massive blade dragging black rock across the floor from the coal pile, on the next lower level, is the source of the insufferable noise. The sounds of whining turbines, and dragging ore, is deafening.

    By switching modes to thermal, the image makes the crawler light up, its turbines, and exhaust stacks glowing white. Recorder toggles to the amplified setting and backs away from the hole to view the other squad members moving against the fence as they survey the scene.

    Andreas steps out of frame. Recorder.

    Kayla moves nearer Andreas, and raises her voice above the excavator’s noise. You’re talking, sir.

    I doubt anyone can hear us above the machine below. After we reach the bottom, stay close until you find an optimal location to record our attack.

    I will, sir. Kayla extends her arm, and turns the device around, to aim at them both. You might help as we move closer.

    Of course. He turns to the others and points at the equipment below them. "The logo on the digger is where we will decapitate prisoners.

    Ready to move in?

    Except for the excavator’s cacophonous movement, the answer to his question is silence.

    Andreas shrugs and frowns. Umm, Don’t get excited, folks. I’m kidding. No beheadings today.

    He gestures to move out as he climbs through the cutout.

    The other two follow him. Kayla guides the camera through the opening. Ropes fly from the top, uncoiling as they fall. The crew connect to their lines and rappel the slope. Each long bound ends with sliding through loose soil and broken rock. The excavator’s activities mask the sounds of their landings. Soon, they vanish into the shadow cast by the mountain of coal, and the monstrous machine.

    The view changes to infrared, and she detects three slight contrast shifts, standing behind the digging apparatus.

    They’re together. My turn.

    Kayla steps through the barrier, hangs the recorder from her side, connects to a line, turns, and jumps off the edge. Her descent records as flashing images of her feet on each landing. On the mine’s floor, she disconnects, aims the recorder at the others, and jogs to rejoin them where they hide, near a bogie-wheel taller than Andreas.

    Andreas taps Marty on the shoulder and points under the digger. Marty leaves the group in a quiet run through the darkness beneath the monster digger.

    He disappears. The image flips to the infrared mode and locates his faint monochrome ghost standing under the belly pan. A maintenance hatch drops open. The excavator’s turbine whines almost cover the metal screeches from a short ladder, sliding from the digger’s underside, to help Marty climb. He vanishes into the access. A few moments later, he drops to the ground, replaces the ladder, and latches the door. Marty jogs back to the team.

    The excavator’s scraping blade goes quiet, and the whine from the turbines falls to a lower pitch.

    Andreas, holding a palm toward the team, peeks around the track’s bogie-truck. A moment passes, and he whispers over his shoulder to the others. The excavator is returning for another load.

    He turns to monitor the machine. Turbines spin up, lights flash across their position, and Andreas pulls his head back. Oops! Headlights.

    Andreas clenches his fist above his head as he checks the excavator, again. Three fingers extend, one at a time, ending with a flat hand motioning along the long track of the digger. The commandos move out, maneuvering through the shadows beneath the machine’s track, bogies, and belly.

    Leader raises a hand, freezing in a dark shadow behind a silent bucket. Excavator lights flash between the machine’s body and the scoops. He turns to Kayla, points at her, and crooks a finger.

    Kayla moves near Andreas.

    Recorder.

    Sir?

    Go far enough out there to document the entire mission.

    He points ahead. The camera follows his gesture to focus along the enormous arms cradling the huge buckets. You can work near the end bucket until we prepare to leave.

    Roger. Kayla holds position until the excavator’s lights disappear behind the edge of their level.

    I’m out of here. Kayla sprints forward to the gap separating the scoops and stops by the edge. The recording device turns toward the enormous wheeled machine, moving toward the pile of coal. The picture bounces as she breaks into a run, crosses the opening to the next bucket, and halts at the far edge to catch her breath. Oh wow, I want a shot from here.

    Recorder tilts the camera until aimed vertical. The massive bucket arms embrace the string of buckets. Bearings with openings a person could walk through, support gigantic shafts, which energize the bucket chain to pull the buckets around the digging arm.

    I swear, the tops of the scoops, one half buried beside me, and the return bucket above must be two stories high. The diagrams didn’t give me a true grasp of their size.

    The video rotates to view across the space to the next bucket. She jogs to the other side where the gap is in shadow. After affirming a coal miner doesn’t spot her, she continues jogging.

    Forward motion pauses again, allowing Kayla to wait for her panting to return to normal breathing. Wow. The digger appeared gigantic from above the ridge. But, up close, and running its length, I believe I underestimated the machine’s intimidating size. I hope we brought enough igniters to do something besides dent the covers.

    The recorder pans and halts, viewing an equipment rack positioned a quick sprint away from the shovel bars.

    Over there. A pocket under the rack stand. The picture zooms in on a spherical water reservoir, held high by its support stand. I believe the open frame might be the best location to record us.

    Kayla steals through the shadow of the digger’s arms, stops inside the stand, and swings around to see if anyone caught her movement. The mining site lights illuminate the far side of the machine and the bucket arms. She takes deep breaths to recover from her sprint. Made it here undetected. From here, the machine resembles an apartment building.

    She turns the camera toward the body of the monster and spots the assault team, waiting where she left them. Beyond the scoop nearest her, the excavator’s turbines gun as it aligns to snag another batch of ore to drag across the coalmine’s floor.

    Ear splitting grating and squealing, from the dragging coal, approach extreme levels, drowning other sounds. The ground shakes as the blade pushes another load away. Kayla holds her thumb up in front of the lens to signal her readiness to Andreas. He responds with a thumb up, continues the motion to tap Mary and Marty on the shoulders, and point at the access to the digger’s bucket bars.

    The commandos advance, using a series of narrow maintenance ladders, ramps, and grips to maneuver through the shadows across the arms.

    Andreas follows them. They resemble tiny bugs climbing on the equipment to access the ore drill station’s, explosive storage hoppers. Andreas climbs a short ladder on one bin, and peeks into the hopper. He turns to Kayla, points into the hopper, flashes a series of hand signals, ending with another thumb up.

    Great news! He regrets not eating dinner. The hopper is full. We can continue.

    Andreas returns to the catwalk, and the squad disappears behind the nearest hopper.

    Kayla tries different camera settings to locate them, and fails. Either they are invisible to infrared, and thermal due to their clothing, or working behind the drill bay’s blast deflection plates.

    After a short time, Kayla exhales. I wish I could see them. Any time, guys. You’re taking forever. A moment later, Andreas steps on the catwalk to the near-side bucket arm. Marty and Mary are close behind.

    On the return trip across the digger’s arm, The team places their remaining charges while moving between positions, attaching the small packages to hoses, bearings, and drivelines.

    The scraper drives away. The din of its roaring engines, and scraping blade, which masked the sounds of the squad’s movements, fades.

    In a hasty retreat along the bucket arms, the squad slinks across the catwalks and ladders, toward the digger’s main body.

    Halfway back, a single light inside the machine’s control bridge snaps on.

    Kayla jerks the camera toward the bridge. What the? Oh, crap.

    From within the digging machine’s body, distant relays snap in rapid sequence. Bright lights ignite to fill the darkness around, and beneath, the bucket arms. The camera zooms out, as another relay volley ignites artificial daylight around the digger’s perimeter. The intense beams from work lights flooding the area along the buckets, disperse the shroud of darkness in which the team hides.

    More lights igniting inside the cabin, silhouette several men behind the windows, monitoring the lights stranding the squad members. Caught in the rays, the assault team members stand motionless, their bodies casting long shadows across the equipment’s sides, and along the mine’s floor.

    Crap. I can see them. The guys better freeze!

    The shadows scurry like rodents to find darkness.

    Turbine engines spin up on the digger, emitting shrill whines at ear-piercing volume. The enormous buckets jolt into action, dragging through the stone beneath the arms.

    A bucket drags closer. Sparks fly from the scoop where the teeth grind through the surface. As it approaches, it fills the entire picture, causing the image to bounce while passing. Kayla gasps, and strains her voice to rise above the rumble of the merciless digging equipment.

    What the…

    The ground quakes around the buckets, gouging long strips of broken rock free. The bucket arms bounce up and drop, recoiling as the stubby bucket teeth rip into the uncollected ore. With each jarring rebound, commandos tumble free of their precarious positions on the machine’s chain-wrapped digging arms.

    Kayla springs from her post, and follows the bucket arm at a sprint. A dark figure screams and smacks the black rock near her. Kayla! Run!

    With a quick step in front of an oncoming bucket, she reaches for Marty, but jumps back to avoid the shovel bearing down on them. The recorder swings to peer the length of the bucket arm, and catches the others trying to crawl, or roll, to safety.

    Buckets advance on them, filling with loads of the coal they gouge free, and catching the commandos before they can escape. Metal scraping, and rock crushing sounds can’t muffle their screams from fear and pain.

    At the far end of the arm, the scoops lift and round the tip to empty the ore over the collection conveyors.

    I can’t reach them. I must hide!

    Buckets chew rock as she passes close, threatening to trap her in their open maws. Kayla maneuvers around them, stopping once to pan across the conveyors atop the monster.

    The gap below the cabin lets her climb beneath the machine, where she leans against a massive bogie to catch her breath. The camera jerks upward to track the overhead conveyor belts.

    Her voice strains as she screams to outdo the noise from the machinery. This sucks… Don’t make them die.

    The image tilts to follow the moving buckets. A returning scoop drives into the surface in front of Kayla, blocking the view. Before the next bucket lowers, the preceding one travels away, dragging through the rock. The ground shakes as the teeth bite deeper, peeling free another layer.

    Klaxons sound. The picture jumps.

    Now what?

    The buckets stop in mid gash. The machine’s screaming turbines spin down to silence. The excavator, parked on the far side of the ore mound, makes no sound. Kayla’s breathing is mindful, yet audible, until she holds a deep breath for a moment, to become calm before letting the air out.

    Silence. Not a sound up there. Are they dead?

    A metal door clicks and bangs hollow against the digger’s wall. Footsteps fly overhead, clanging hard on the metal catwalks and stairs. Kayla steps from cover and lifts the camera to view the digging machine’s bridge. More operators burst through the door to sprint along the skywalks and ramps.

    Can’t find the conveyors. Must move to the other side.

    The view pans to the far track. Kayla ducks beneath the machine, recording the lamps now lighting across the underside, and darts from shadow to shadow. She steps onto the track between two of the gigantic bogie-wheel trucks. These should give me cover. A couple of clicks chime out as she taps the huge track plate. And stop bullets.

    The camera peeks around the edge of a vertical track plate. Men climb on the output conveyors, searching through the coal. Black rock fling from the conveyor belt sides as the crew members scoop with their hands.

    A younger sounding man yells to the others from the catwalk overhead. I watched someone fall under the arm. Keep digging.

    An older man lets out a rough laugh overhead, his coarse voice revealing years of breathing unfiltered air. Why hurry to find them? I’m sure they are dead.

    The first man ignores the haughty one and barks more orders to the men. Check the belts. Dig through the ore, if you don’t find them on top.

    More coal falls from the conveyors.

    A man on the far side whistles and hollers. I found someone. I’m pulling her free. Wait. Her arm must be here somewhere.

    The man with the gravelly voice, growls to his younger associate. Yes! Got those damn eco-freaks. Minor injuries might stop them, and send a message to others. Hey, Aaron. I’m glad your drone spotted them coming over the ridge. We didn’t give them a chance to do something destructive.

    Aaron, no longer soft spoken, snaps back in response. "Right, Casey. Those pond scum deserved a mangling.

    You got it right, little buddy. They got everything they deserved.

    You’re too stupid to catch my sarcasm, Casey. I can’t believe you hurt them on purpose. You risked killing them when you tripped the buckets.

    Casey spits. Both of us followed them climbing on the buckets. The fault is their own, and they earned whatever happens to them.

    I don’t condone what they do either, but they don’t deserve to die.

    Those freaks never received the message. My patience expired, and the company will not take their crap anymore.

    Despite how you justify your actions, we’re in deep trouble.

    Bull. Don’t worry. Read the signs, it’s not a problem.

    Above the noise from the approaching excavator, Casey raises his voice to speak to his crew. How many, and what is their status?

    A distant voice calls back. Over here. I found someone. His head’s cut… and messy. Might be a break in his leg, too. He’s out, but alive.

    Another voice shouts his success. I found a skinny guy. He blacked out, but appears unharmed. Might suffer a concussion.

    Casey laughs again, finishing with a protracted series of raspy gasps and hacky coughs. Tourniquet the girl’s arm, but ignore the guy’s leg. Take everyone to the landing platform over the bridge for pickup.

    Kayla turns the camera to her face, and comments over the approaching excavator’s noise, while standing on the massive track plate. Update. Mary’s severed arm is a critical injury. Marty is bleeding, and his leg’s broken. Andreas is unconscious, maybe worse. How did we go wrong? We didn’t consider another deterrence. How could we not consider drones?

    With a quick pivot, she turns toward their ropes. I cannot help. I must leave, or they might catch me, too.

    Kayla slips from her hiding spot, and skulks in the shadows beneath the digger’s body, stopping at the track nearest the incline. A step farther and Kayla hides in a shadow while panning the camera to find the gantry’s catwalks. The machine’s body blocks her view.

    Careful tiptoes take her across the rocks, slipping into the slope’s shadow to direct a shot at the catwalks before grabbing a line and starting her climb. The video records her feet throughout her ascent of the ridge.

    At the top, the picture turns back to the dazzling lights of the digging machine. Toward the other end of the crater, navigation lights flash. The crew loads the third team-member on the landing platform, aligning alongside the others.

    A white armband marks where Mary’s arm is missing. A crew member reaches the top of the ramp and tosses the detached arm on her chest from the edge.

    Kayla sucks in a breath. Hey! Treat her arm with respect, you animal… The image dwells on the team. The engines become louder as the rescue flight draws nearer. None of my team is moving. I hope they didn’t die.

    The flying ambulance arrives, slowing to a hover over the digger. A rescue litter lowers from its belly. The lens zooms in on the landing platform to focus on the injured forms. Two of the digger crew members grab shoulders and feet, to drag the three limp bodies into the basket, and step away. The injured raiders rise into the flying vehicle as the cable retracts.

    Crewmen return to the cabin as the vehicle slips away. The machine’s floodlights go dark. A light in the bridge lingers while the aircraft lights move away and disappear behind the distant ridge. The crew extinguishes the last light, leaving the digger a lifeless shadow.

    Kayla sets the camera on the ground, which topples on its side. The image shows Kayla digging through a backpack. She removes a Slate and a heavy helmet with a full face visor, and a thick vest.

    She drapes the vest over her shoulders, clicks the latches along her sides, places the helmet on her head, and closes the visor. She retrieves the recorder and focuses on her face. This might get messy.

    The recorder swings around, snaps into an anchor on the helmet, and tracks the excavator working on the mine’s floor. It moves away, dragging another load. The digger’s buckets sit silent, inert beside the massive pile of the rock.

    I hope the microphones are working. She raises her voice. I won’t stand here with my team hurt, or dead, and allow the dreadful rock to keep making your corporation rich. The outcome of our mission reveals flaws in our planning. Your damn drones detected our attack, leading to our failure. I believe somebody needed beheading. Remember this. Others are coming to finish what we began.

    Distant screeching from the scraper continues until the eight-wheeled vehicle delivers the load. It turns around, and heads back until nearing the pile, where it stops and goes silent. The air is still, and the image lingers on the lifeless scene.

    A slate lights up in front of the lens. The display shows a blue field with a central red dot. From below the frame, a female finger moves up and touches the red button. The screen drops from view.

    From within the digger’s turbine compartment, a bright flash shines through vent panels. An intense explosion follows, blowing panels off the digger’s sides and rear. Multiple explosions ignite along the bucket bar. The two huge fuel tanks explode downward, releasing a brilliant fireball mushrooming to the ground from the machine’s belly. The hot gasses spread beneath the equipment’s entire body, lifting the monster’s tracks from the surface over a new crater.

    A heartbeat later, the fuel tank explosion continues straight up, driving the machine into the crater.

    On the other end, a fireball ignites a moment before the Digger’s blasting supply bins vanish in a brilliant flash.

    Shock waves ascend the ridge in an instant, and knock the recorder back. The ground behind the barrier rushes to crash against the device, as the panels fly overhead.

    The device tumbles, catching a blurred vision of Kayla flying backward from the concussive force. With each flip, the picture alternates between darkness, and the mushroom cloud above the pit, until it slides to a stop. The image goes dark. The sound of falling gravel resembles a hard rainstorm, then silence. Incrementing elapse-time display continues.

    Section: Hellfire:

    Later, the silent audio records the sound of digging through gravel. Growing louder, one scoop breaks through the darkness with orange, flickering light. The video is a mottled blur. As the recorder lifts from the ground, bright light flickers from one direction.

    The camera tips up to level. A finger rubs the lens to clear the blurring dust, and the recorder turns around. Kayla’s face, her visor lifted, fills the picture, lit by a flickering source. Blood runs from one of her ears, and an eye swells.

    "I think this device is working. I’ll add an addendum. I’m relieved I could find my camera. As we planned, I hid behind the barrier when I pressed the detonate button. In retrospect, I should have moved to the parking lot, instead.

    I’m surprised I didn’t die. The solid sections protected me, somewhat, but the blast… Oh my, the blast. It threw me down the hill and knocked me unconscious for some time. I got covered in coal gravel, which may have saved me, and had to dig my way out.

    Kayla climbs to her feet. Oh wow, I’m somewhat woozy.

    Her video pans away from her face and focuses on the coal mine. The blast destroyed the barrier, and the precipice the barricade once guarded. It left a huge bite missing, creating a gradual slope to the mine’s floor, where pieces of the Digger lie in the bottom of a burning crater. Other areas of the mine’s floor burns. The excavator is gone, and the coal pile is gone.

    I don’t see the excavator. It must have flown deeper into the mine.

    The open pit is ablaze, flames jumping skyward. Kayla tilts the camera up to record the height, twice as high as the remaining rim of the mine. The billowing smoke, the underside lighted by the inferno, attests to the ferocity of the fire.

    The camera focuses on the floor where truckloads of miners arrive. Others struggle already, in a futile effort to gain control of the flames. A dozen fire suppression units, responding from other parts of the mine, spray foam in graceful arches to the immolated crater. Before reaching the glow at the bottom, the heat from the blaze melts the smothering agent. Men scream frantic orders creating a soundtrack of terror for the video.

    Sloppy work, but mission accomplished. Tonight, as Andreas wanted, we caused discomfort.

    Check the floor beyond the commotion. The lens zooms past the digging machine firestorm and stops. For the record, because the machine is in pieces, I believe everyone in the digger died. The operator of the scraper may be dead, as well. I’m not able to tell if others died.

    The view pans back to the roaring coal fire. Those guys should let the mine burn. Their suppressants don’t reach the flame.

    The recorder turns back to Kayla’s face. The swelling now includes her cheek. I should go. I cannot allow myself to become an easy find, during a search for intruders. For the record, my ribs hurt. I believe I should see a doctor.

    The image goes dark

    ~~~~****~~~~

    One: Enchantment:

    Source: Merc’s Personal Log:

    Section: Evening:

    The camera’s image moves along a hallway. The forward movement stops after turning into a kitchen through an open doorway. A window hangs over a sink on the far wall. Beyond the window, darkness obscures everything. A lone lamp in the room casts light from above the sink to illuminate dishes on the counter-top and in the water-filled basin.

    A tall, slender woman leans against the counter, washing the dishes. She works in the otherwise unlit room, the overhead light back-lighting her silhouette. The dark window reflects her alluring face, framed by long, soft hair. Vacuous eyes focus through the image in the glass.

    A quick blink shifts her stare to the tap water gliding over manicured fingers on one hand, and the dinner plate they hold. Her other hand caresses the plate’s surface in slow, deliberate circles. Dark locks cascade along her bare back, covering much of the provocative nightgown, to end in soft curls below waist level.

    With the plate finished, she places the dinnerware on a stack to one side, and reaches into the sudsy basin for another saucer. Her attention refocuses through the glass pane as she draws her slender fingers, in gentle circles, across the saucer.

    The primary room lighting snaps to life with blinding intensity and her image in the glass winces.

    Smile, sweetie.

    The young woman’s relaxed features tense. Her head pivots toward the voice, sending a wave along her silky tresses from her shoulders to the top of her long legs. Her lips press tight together as her eyes roll upward, her head wobbles in a slow shake. Merc Izzar. You are recording me. How long?

    For a while.

    Pervert. Must you record everything?

    I’m starting to, Sam. A continuous recording of everything in my life is how the Life-log Project commitment works. Is my project a problem?

    Yes, dear. Your project is a problem.

    My what? Wait. Commitment means I must record everything. I’m building a complete document of my life for posterity.

    Merc, you don’t understand. Intimate moments are fragile. Their essence dissolves when an insensitive jerk, wielding a video recorder, intrudes.

    Hold on. You need not be embarrassed, or worried. Encryption protects the files for 300 years, from everyone except their owner. Merc hesitates. Wait. You’re doing dishes. How can intimate moments include washing dishes?

    Sam moves a step to one side as she turns to face him, allowing the dark window to reflect his image. She relaxes against the counter’s edge, fluttering her eyelids. She combs the full length of her hair with slender fingers, pulling her silky tresses forward to dangle in front of her nightgown, appearing bashful.

    Sam lowers her voice to a whisper. You don’t understand, my love. Her head drops somewhat to gaze at Merc through her eyelashes, her bright azure eyes lock into his. She coos with a sweet, breathy tone. Oh… With the proper stimulation, you might find dishes can exceed intimate.

    She lifts her arms straight toward Merc, letting her fingers dangle. Gentle strokes by the fingertips of one hand glide across the top of the other, up her forearm, and back to the fingers.

    "Imagine how the soft ripples of warm water excite me as they flow over, and along my skin. I savor my long, sensual strokes, soapsuds smoothing my hand’s caresses, imagining someone else. Water splashes from the tap, masking the sounds coming from beyond my own thoughts.

    My concentration focuses on the warmth and the soothing caress until, for a blissful moment, my feelings surge to overwhelm me. I slip deep into the erotic milieu within my mind. Yes… yes, oh… yes!

    Merc’s rugged stature, reflected from the dark window, sags somewhat, as he stands in silence to absorb the image she offered. After a few moments, he whimpers, inhales a long breath, and gulps. He shakes his head as though shaking dry his wet hair. I’m glad you reminded me. You need to cut back on wasting water. I got an alert for going over our water consumption limit.

    Sam snaps to her full height, presses her lips tight, clenches her fists, and smacks her bare arms against her sides. With a flick of her head, a soft wave flows down her ebony hair to the ends. Her cerulean eyes stab Merc with her glare. After what I described, your male reaction is to express your concern over the water I’m wasting?

    Oh honey. You’re right. Let’s finish here, and go to bed. Tomorrow will become a grand day for you.

    Sam tosses her hands upward, shaking her head, and turns her back on him to rinse another dish. "Tomorrow isn’t special for me. The demonstration is David’s grand overture. Tomorrow is his pony show, a commercial made possible by buying the news coverage to promote his invention. I’m the engineer for David’s Pod revelation.

    Over the past several days, I took the Pod across the test track innumerable flawless times to prepare for his announcement. Tomorrow won’t be any different. The presentation will bore me. I’m working his PR because he tells me eye-catching girls help sell wonderful ideas.

    Fine. Tell me, when does your part happen?

    David scripted the entire demonstration. My commitment starts in the morning. After I cross with the Pod, I execute a cutesy script for an interview. I’m off work afterward. Do you want to do something later?

    Merc clears his throat. We might come home and wash dishes?

    Sam turns toward Merc, propping one bare hip against the counter-top’s edge, tilts her head, smiles, and winks.

    Hey buddy, shut off your recorder. Dishes need doing now.

    You mean… now?

    Merc’s lack of understanding causes Sam to lift one eyebrow.

    Oh, you mean, NOW.

    The image goes dark.

    <<--->>

    Source: Air Check:

    Section: The News Continues:

    The calm man perches on a tall stool, one foot relaxing on a rung, and the toe of his other, touching the floor. His hands cross over the lap of his impeccable suit. His face, shaven clean, and free of blemishes, comprises a robust balance of features, with his perfect teeth, his perfect cheekbones, and his perfect hair. He smiles with dazzle. His image is too real to be real.

    Welcome back. A confident tone resonates in his perfect, demo-graphics tuned voice. You are watching the Global News Network. Up next, our social magazine, Changing the World. I am the host, Brice Orone.

    The GNN theme swells. Behind him, a spinning globe animation morphs into a spherical company logo. He turns to comment to somebody off the set while his microphone is dead.

    The intro concludes, and Brice gazes at the camera. "Today, Changing the World continues our coverage of David Banks Enterprises, while they rise from a promising startup, to a global corporation. They develop, and introduce, Eco-friendly solutions to battle industrial processes, causing climate damage. Their developments position them as the leading innovator of positive impact products designed to enhance our life.

    "Per usual, our stories focus on new technology. In today’s segment, we examine an innovative plan from DBE. Mr. Banks is building a service which might shepherd a new way of life for billions of people traveling within, and between, our communities.

    "We join him to witness another phase of Banks Enterprises’ continuing effort to promote Eco-responsible technology. His latest offering is a method to provide simple access to convenient transportation within cities, allowing citizens to leave their personal vehicles home.

    "The automated transportation system uses a small car, which holds up to four passengers, resembling an enclosed cart. Once DBE builds the network, anyone who needs a ride through the city can access the driverless Pods. They operate on cable tracks at the 100 story level to avoid ground traffic congestion.

    Available through reasonable subscription service, Pods offer faster, more convenient, and less expensive transportation, compared to your own vehicle. Access is as simple as a click of the application’s call button on your personal device, routing the next available car to your pick up location.

    Over the anchor’s shoulder, an image materializes of two people standing between the camera and an open wall in the building’s side. The man faces away to peer through the hole. Thin cables leading from a platform inside, form a track stretching across the gap, to a similar portal, built into an adjacent building. A Pod, parked beside the platform in the far tower, rests on the track.

    The woman taps the man’s shoulder. He pivots to face her.

    The impression he gives is he’s middle-aged, yet fit. His crisp cut clothes and clean-cut, professional manner shows a person with significant responsibility, and resources.

    Sam motions toward her crew, and his eyes follow her gesture. With a sharp nod, he poses for the recorder with an affable smile.

    Brice rotates on his stool to face the image over his shoulder. For our report from the demonstration site, we introduce a new human interest field reporter, Marisa Ven. Marisa, please tell us about Mr. Bank’s revelation.

    She touches her ear to adjust her earpiece. Thank you, Brice. I am here at the 100 level Pod Bay with David Banks to witness the Pods in action. Marisa turns to David, her toothy smile glows. Mr. Banks, do you care to add something?

    Yes, Marisa, I do. David gazes at the video crew. His attention focuses into the lens, yet he maintains inviting mannerisms. "Today’s demonstration will show the convenience of the concept I’m building.

    "Pods remove the need to return to the street, or train tunnel, levels to move throughout the city. Pods will circulate through the network. Install our handy application on your personal device, and you can direct our central control to make a unit available in moments.

    The unique suspension track design makes expansion simple with reasonable cost. We plan to install Pod networks through the congested core of every city over the next ten years. High speed, intercity connectors will grow with the service.

    Mr. Banks, you propose an aggressive schedule.

    "Correct, Marisa. We must work toward aggressive goals. To walk through cities on open streets without environmental protection is unhealthy. Travel through any metropolis in private rides is tedious. Autopilot is of little help. Places to park are difficult to find and expensive. People complain crowded subways, and irregular service, makes city life unattractive. I believe everyone will prefer moving around with more convenience.

    "Designers for dome cities construct municipal tram services for passengers and commercial transportation. The tower cities offer nothing as simple, or convenient. The DBE Pod system will rectify the issue.

    "Passenger Pods are the beginning. Our goals include the eventual elimination of traditional commercial delivery solutions.

    From an environmental perspective, Pods represent an excellent way to take part in dropping pollution levels while our service allows traveling through our cities simple. By encouraging parking their personal vehicles outside the major communities, people will enjoy a pleasant life experience. Better yet, they will help us restore our planet’s ecological balance.

    Sure, Mr. Banks… Hum, you offer a peculiar plug. My colleagues, across the way, with the test Pod, announced their readiness to report the start of your demonstration. Let’s switch to our feed from the other building.

    The video flips from Marisa and David to the opposite Pod Bay, and the support team, on the platform where the team is moving away. Sam, alone by the vehicle, steps on the Pod’s forward facing loading ramp, waves, flashes a ready to go sign, and ducks into the cabin.

    Marisa continues the interview while following the action in the far bay. I believe preparations to cross are complete. Mr. Banks, can you tell us what to expect?

    I can. Our test engineer boarded, using the passenger ramp from the bay platform. We used a clam-shell style front ramp to allow service to platforms on either side. Though Pod control is automatic, I put an engineer on board to track the machine’s performance while crossing.

    The Pods entrance comprises two panels which swing together. The lower ramp, which drops level with the station platform, and the upper windscreen panel.

    A safety feature here is, when the doors shut, the machine pauses a moment, allowing passengers time to sit before leaving the terminal.

    Sam leans against the clam-shell door and jabs a finger at her equipment. After a short pause, she nods to the crew on the platform, flashing a gesture to show she’s ready.

    Our Pods move along the track’s two narrow rails, one below, and one overhead. The video returns to Marisa and David.

    Marisa points at the approaching Pod. The Pod is moving now. I’m surprised by the impressive acceleration.

    Correct, Marisa. The car uses electric motors taking power from the tracks. They can reach high speeds, and the ride is smooth while inside remains quiet. David touches his ear, pauses, and nods. Please excuse me. The transportation Pod will arrive soon, and I should greet Sam when she arrives at our end. I’ll bring her here for an interview, afterward.

    Go ahead, we can follow the rest of the run from here. Thank you, Mr. Banks. We’ll talk later.

    Marisa focuses her gaze into the camera. Behind her, Sam is midway across the open space between the towers. Let’s follow as Mr. Bank’s Pod system crosses the chasm.

    Marisa turns to track the demonstration. The image zooms to a close frame of the Pod’s progress on the black filaments contrasting the brilliant white spires of the city towers beyond. The picture creates a stunning backdrop for the dignitaries waiting at the receiving station for Sam’s arrival. David steps on the platform.

    Merc welcomes David at the edge, smiles, and shakes David’s hand before placing a congratulatory slap on his shoulder. He and David turn toward Sam’s Pod and chat while waiting for the machine to pull to the landing. Merc points at the approaching car, as Sam glances up from her equipment and signals everything is nominal.

    Moments before entering the building, the speeding machine hesitates. Ka Chunk!

    The sound comes from the passenger car stopping with a sudden jerk. Sam stumbles forward, slamming head first into the windshield. She shakes the ringing from her ears, while bracing herself on the door to stay upright. After a moment, she wobbles, and sinks to the floor.

    Sam becomes visible again, struggling to stand. The Pod lurches ahead, causing her to balance on her feet as though riding a skateboard, until the machine stops hard on the track with another sharp jolt. Ka Chunk!

    The abrupt stop makes her fly forward into the windscreen, and crumple on her shoulder. Her DBE cap bounces off her head, letting her long, black hair fall free. Blood from her head streaks on the glass as she settles against the door.

    The loading ramp section of the door yields to Sam’s impact and opens. The lower panel falls downward, allowing Sam to tumble through the opening, arms flailing in her attempt to grab something substantial and avoid the multistory fall. One hand catches the edge of the damaged gate.

    Off camera, Marisa sucks in a sharp breath.

    Sam hangs over the track rail, folding at her waist to dangle, and clinging to the bottom door section. The 100-floor drop causes her to stare at the distant streets through her dangling tresses, flowing in the slight breeze.

    The Pod struggles to move ahead. Smoke spews with a high pitch shriek from the underside as drive wheels grind on the track. Sam lifts her head, her eyes straining open. Quick glances dart between the ground, and the building’s bay opening. She jerks her focus toward the screaming machine and reaches for the open front door and grabs the edge.

    She levers one elbow on the ramp, kicks a leg behind her to hook on the top and misses. Another swing and she misses. Her arm slips off the panel’s top surface, but she holds tight. The struggle pauses as she relaxes, dangling over the cable. A moment later, she swings her leg and arm up, and on to the deck, grabbing the broken Pod gate.

    Brice! Marisa’s voice rises above the screeching from the machinery.

    Marisa, what’s happening?

    Something’s wrong. The engineer is outside the passenger compartment.

    Sam tugs on the open door, trying to pull herself on to the loading ramp. The shrill sound stops, starts, and stops again as the wheels seek traction. A breeze floats Sam’s hair around her head and tangles around the cable. The Pod jolts forward, moving the foot ramp against Sam, and shoving her along the track until her long locks stretch tight. Her grip slips, and she falls back across the filament.

    With a sudden jerk, the car advances, making a metallic thump echo hollow against her ear, as the heavy ramp glides over her tethered head. Sharp-edged front wheels slice her hair free. As she folds over the track again, the empty Pod overtakes her, digging the drive wheels into her waist, throwing pieces of her flesh at the ground.

    The equipment grinds to a stop. A high pitch scream, emits from under the chassis as motors churn the driving pulleys with relentless force. The Pod lurches, mincing while entangling deeper within Sam’s side. The camera’s angle can’t confirm whether the screaming comes from the motors, Sam, or both.

    Merc leaps from the platform. Sprinting to the edge he covers his ears.

    Exaggerated bouncing and jarring from the jammed drive wheels cause the overhead disks to disengage from their rail. The shrill screaming from the wheels goes silent. The car teeters on the bottom track before losing balance, and causing the entire unit to topple with a slow-motion pendulum swing from the lower track.

    David jumps from the platform, sprints several steps toward the opening, stops and glances back calling to his crew. The Pod’s falling. Warn the people below.

    He turns back to the tragic scene as the machine pivots around the rail. Sam enmeshes deeper into the drive mechanism as the twisting machine rotates her to an upright position. The unit dangles below her.

    David spins on his heel to address the others. Wait! She jammed the Pod. Grab a rope.

    The picture zooms in on Sam. Her face twists from pain in a silent cry for help.

    Marisa moves near the camera, blocking the view with her face. A horrible event is unfolding. The engineer fell out of the Pod and tangled in the machinery. We are witnessing the passenger car broken loose, which now hangs inverted. Mr. Banks is directing his concern for the people at street level to assure the machine doesn’t crush them, should it fall free.

    The image pulls back to a broader view of the Transit Bay as Marisa steps to the side.

    With one hand clinging to the portal’s outside frame, Merc leans over the 100 story drop. He stretches his hand along the track toward Sam. Their gazes lock. She lifts her hand. They cannot touch, as their yearning fingertips stop an arm’s length apart.

    David stands behind Merc.

    Merc thrusts his hand out again, stretching to grasp her. He’s desperate to reach far enough to pull her closer, as though using his will alone. He draws his arm back inside and glances toward Marisa’s video crew. Tears stream down his cheeks. His eyes, open wide, dart side to side, searching for help. He beseeches anyone nearby. Please, help me pull her inside!

    David steps to the edge beside Merc.

    Brice sucks air through his teeth. Is someone trying to rescue the engineer?

    Marisa moves off camera. One man tried to help her, Brice. Now Mr. Banks is trying.

    Sam glances at her waist, touches the track where the Pod drive is mangling her torso in the gears, and lifts her head toward Merc.

    Marisa snaps at her technical team. Zoom in on them.

    Sam’s voice weakens. Stuck. Help me, Merc.

    He screams to her while extending his hand again. I cannot reach you, baby. He turns to David. Tears soak his face. Help me reach her.

    Merc, I can’t. Too dangerous. Rescue equipment’s nearby.

    Merc stands and thrusts his palm against David’s shoulder. "I hold you responsible. Do something, David. She’s dying. Any more waiting will kill her.

    I agree, Merc. We can’t work any faster. David yells through the opening, Sam, rescue equipment is nearby. Hold tight.

    Merc leans over the precipice. Honey, focus on me. Help is coming.

    She pinches her eyes tight. Her face twists into another silent scream. Her azure eyes open to a narrow, piercing glare, focused into Merc’s eyes before her wild gaze pleads for a merciful release from her pain. An eternal moment passes. Her lids flicker shut, and her face relaxes. The agony of her disembowelment fades behind shock’s isolating facade.

    Blood, dribbling in streams from her shoe tips, divides into droplets while falling to the ground. She opens her eyes. The stress lines twisting her face fade as her eyes lock with Merc’s. Unconcerned, her face softens and becomes gorgeous again.

    Sam! Stay with me. We’re trying to help. Stay with me. David! Help her. NOW.

    Sam’s gaze relaxes. Her eyes roll upward, her

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