I picked a random direction and headed off. As with my first day when we broke into Heaven's River, the Quinlan body had no trouble adapting to zero-g movement. Handholds along the corridor helped as well. Within a few minutes, I'd found the Nirvana Spoke elevator. Small problem, the elevator was at ground level, so there would be a 20-minute wait.
The ride down was very much like the ride up, in reverse. Strangely, starting from a view-from-orbit kind of panorama made it easier to get used to the height without cringing. By the time it started to resemble real land, I was verging on bored. This maintenance complex was uninhabited, which led me to believe that most of the population of the mountains was probably Resistance. I made it to the train station without incident, and pressed my card against the reader plate.
“Not authorized.”
I looked up sharply. “What?”
“Your identification is not authorized.”
Oh great. They’d canceled my card. Well, Natasha's card. It had been inevitable, but couldn’t they have done it after I'd gotten on the train?
I fished out the second card, the one I grabbed from the guard, and tried it.
“Not authorized.”
Well, that was that.
I looked around, half expecting the entire population of hell to come pouring out. But this complex was uninhabited. Come to think of it, I'd never seen or heard of the Administrator using anything but live muscle inside Heaven's River. Maybe automated muscle was forbidden? It sounded like the kind of limitation you’d place on an AI to keep it from taking over. And how had that worked out for the Quinlans? Still, while I wasn't about to be tackled, I also wasn't about to get a free ride back to Garrick's Spine, and hordes of minions could be on their way right now. Their cards would work. A hasty departure seemed advisable.
Back up the whole way up the stairs, and soon I was in the lobby. The maintenance door opened easily from the inside, and I was out in the open. I could see a town in the distance, but I have no idea what it might be called. I was a quarter-turn around the circumference of Heaven's River, and 3800 miles west of Garrick's Spine, which was my only way out. I had an 8-inch cube in my backpack sticking up like a carbuncle and advertising my presence to any Crew or Resistance who might be looking for me. I might as well be wearing a hard hat with a flashing red light. Oh, and I couldn't risk going in the water. Piece of cake.
I needed a story. Some plausible reason for the big lump in my backpack. A quick glance up at the sun confirmed the day was young. I have plenty of time to get to the town before dark, but maybe I shouldn't. I had only the coins in my stomach, and I might need them for something more critical than lodging. I dithered for a few moments, then decided I might as well head for town while I tried to come up with something. First, I'd need to update Hugh.
“Hi Hugh.”
“Bob! Got news?”
“Of a sort. I have Bender.”
“That's great! I’ll meet you at Garrick's Spine and we can get out of here.”
“Uh, it may not be that simple.”
I updated Hugh on recent events and my current location.
“Well that's… suboptimal,” he said. “Listen, you can't be the first Quinlan that's needed to carry something large. A funerary box is about the same size, for instance.”
“Uh, what?”
“Bridget can probably give you anthropological details, but Quinlans keep the bones of their deceased. Ground up, they fit into a box of about the right size.”
“You'd accumulate a lot of boxes over time,” I commented.
“Yeah, I don't know, ask, Bridget. But maybe check around town. Someone might have something that would keep the box dry. Maybe you can find a funerary box and test it out.”
“That's an excellent idea, Hugh. Thanks.”
“Then you’d just need to travel seven segments to Garrick, and you're golden.”
“Thanks a bunch, Hugh. And with that cheery thought, I'm signing off.”
Still, one problem at a time. I paused and prairie-dogged to get a close look at the town. Things might be looking up this slightest teeniest bit. I composed and fired off an email to Bridget, not wanting to spare the cycles for conversation. I'd review whatever she sent me when I have time. The first order of business though, was to not come into town from along the road from the maintenance complex. If someone was watching for a Quinlan with a carbuncle, that would be the obvious place to set up.
Moving to the bushes was more of a pain than expected. I remembered Bridget mentioning that the climate varied from segment to segment, probably to replicate conditions on Quinn. This segment had a more tropical motif, which meant thicker and more riotous vegetation, and probably a lot more variety in the way of predators. And me without so much as a pig sticker in my inventory.
After a half hour of bush-whacking accompanied by my best cursing, I decided enough was enough. I spied a trail ahead that likely lead to a regular road, and made for it. The path led through some pretty run-down residential structures and I began to worry about being mugged. A couple of rough looking characters did give me the evil eye, but no one made a move. In 15 minutes more I was in the town proper, which was named Forest Hill. I button-holed a few random strangers and eventually got directions to a funeral home.
The Quinlan translation
