Strange Future: A 23rd Century Guide for the 21st Century Cynic by Josh Smith
Chapter 24
"Dude, hurry up!" Lyla shouted up the stairs. This time, for once, it was not Thomas, Vera or Doug who was late, but Darin.
"Coming!" he shouted back.
"I don't understand what his problem is. He had all day yesterday to get his stuff packed and he didn't even have to buy clothes like you guys did." Darin came running down the stairs with his bags in tow. "Finally! Let's go, we've gotta get to the hoverport if we're going to catch an early flight."
"Cool it," Darin said, "we've got plenty of time." They walked down to the nearby POD station as they had done many times before, but this time they chose Hillary R. Clinton Memorial Hoverport as their destination. A BAMF later and they arrived at the main lobby.
"The white zone is for loading and unloading only!" a female voice declared over the loudspeaker. Thomas looked around him, taking in all the sights. The terminal would've been described as "modern" in his time, but he imagined that this was probably now a very standard design. Everything was wide and open with large windows letting in as much outside, natural light as possible. Outside these windows, Thomas observed hundreds of taxis, landing, dropping off their passengers, getting new passengers, and taking off as quickly as they came. That, he assumed, was the "white zone."
"Attention all passengers," a friendly male announcer began. "At Hillary R. Clinton Memorial Hoverport, your safety is our top priority. Therefore we ask that you please be considerate of your fellow travelers and keep the main areas of pedestrian traffic clear. This includes the area near the POD stations, the entryway from the Hovertaxi landing pads, and the areas around the ticket counter queuing lines. Thank you for your cooperation."
Thomas suddenly realized he was still standing rather close to the PODs. Now that he was conscious of this, he noticed that there were quite a few people walking by that looked annoyed at his presence. It was also at this point that he noticed his companions were now far ahead of him, and he ran to catch up.
They walked over and got into the line for tickets. Thomas looked at the logo plastered on the wall behind the desk in front of them: Pangaean Hoverlines. Surprisingly, things were moving very quickly. They only had to endure the announcer's explanation about the white zone three more times before they reached the front of the line.
"Hi, how can I help you today?" Asked a pleasant, plump woman behind the counter.
"Yes, we'd like five tickets to London please," Darin said.
"Oh, London, how fun! Let me check on that for you." Thomas wondered what the computer she was using looked like, but he couldn't see it from where he stood. In any event, he didn't hear her typing. He guessed it must have been a touch screen of some sort. "OK, we have a flight leaving here at 11:00 AM," she said, glancing at the clock, "and it's only a little after ten now, so you have plenty of time to get there. There's only two first class seats available, but plenty of seats left in coach."
"We'll just take five tickets for coach please."
"OK then, I'll just need to get a scan of each of you for the ticketing database." She pulled out what almost looked like a bar code reader and pointed it at Darin.
"Accept," he responded to the prompt to accept the charges.
"Thank you, and now you dear," she motioned for Lyla. Three more scans later and things were finalized. "Alright then, do you have any bags you need checked?"
"Yes, please," and they proceeded to hand over most of their bags. A robotic arm gently picked up each bag and attached an electronic tag to it. The bag was then slid by the arm into a POD where it vanished out of site, presumably to the area where the hovertrain would be loading.
"Thank you, you're all set! Enjoy your trip!" She said as she waved goodbye.
"Thank you," Darin said as they walked off.
"Don't we get tickets or something?" Vera asked.
"Nope, it's all done electronically, so when we walk through the security checkpoints in a minute, it'll check us against the ticketing database and allow us through."
"Cool," Doug whispered as he had done often before. They approached the security checkpoint and placed their carry-on bags into a POD. It disappeared momentarily and reappeared in a POD on the other side. The security guard standing just beyond what appeared to be a metal detector nodded them through, one by one. As they passed through, the red light above turned green to indicate approval, and they grabbed their bag.
"It's a really neat setup," Lyla said as they walked towards their gate. "As your bag passes through the POD system, it's analyzed, and anything potentially dangerous is automatically removed before it's reassembled on the other side. The agent watching the monitor is notified about what items, if any, were removed from the bag. If it's anything particularly dangerous, of course, the person would be detained, but for little things like pocketknives or scissors they never bother to stop anyone."
"What do they do with the things they remove?" Doug asked.
"I saw something about that on TV once," Darin said. "They have a depot where there are literally piles and piles of scissors, knives, and other things. Some people tried to appeal to get their things back in the beginning when the system was first installed, but were denied. Everything is streamlined so that getting through security is as fast as possible, so they don't track who owns what. There are still some who complain, of course, but the vast majority of people are more concerned about short lines and pack items like scissors in the checked luggage where it belongs."
"If someone were actually trying to do something stupid like blow up the train with a bomb," Lyla added, "the item would get found and removed regardless of whether it was in the checked luggage or the carry on bag. In that case, the item is kept as evidence and the person is detained immediately."
"So what do they do with all the knives?" Thomas asked.
"They usually recycle the whole heap once a month for scrap metal," Darin said.
"Floaters Inc. Flight 1532 to Seattle is now boarding," a voice announced.
"Well how do they know that I'm not carrying a gun or something else on my person instead of in my bag?" Doug asked.
"That thing we walked under analyzes you as you pass through," Darin explained. "It basically lets the agent see if there's anything on your person that shouldn't be there. It also checks to verify that you are in the ticketing database. If there's anything wrong, the light won't turn green, and the agent will pull you to the side to find out what the exact problem is."
"You know, this really isn't all that different from the airports of our day," Thomas said. "The only difference is that everything is completely streamlined so it's a lot faster, and people aren't constantly looking at you like you're a criminal."
"So, in other words, it's completely different from the airports in our day?" Vera said with a smile. Had she not been smiling, Thomas would've been annoyed. The smile, however, seemed to indicate that Vera was back to her old self and had gotten over whatever it was that was making her so snotty the past few days.
"Well yeah, I guess so. I mean, the basic premise is the same, they've just actually done it right this time."
"I know, I was just messing with you. I can see why all the airports failed though, even if they did have this same technology, the negative stigma was definitely there, and they still probably executed it poorly."
"Here we are!" Darin said, derailing the hovertrain of thought. They had arrived at their gate. Seats were scouted out and picked, and they were actually comfortable. Thomas glanced around the waiting area. Families and businessmen were relaxing, and the usual rotten kid was running around in circles, screaming his head off.
"Things really haven't changed," he muttered. Then he saw it: a hovertrain far in the distance was rapidly approaching the gate. He stood up and walked over to the window. It seemed fairly short for your typical train... Then again, your typical train didn't hover either. From his point of view, it looked to be about ten cars long. It slowed as it approached the gate, but almost seemed like it wasn't slowing down f
Passengers departed the train and walked past the seating area as they made their way to the exit. Outside, the workers continued unloading bags when another, smaller locomotive began approaching. It was pushing along two additional cars which were attached onto the end of the train. Finally the train was emptied and looked ready for boarding.
"Man, they really are efficient!" said Doug who had walked over to watch when the train arrived.
"Yup," Darin said from behind them, "they have to be. Hovertrains are so widely used and depended on for a lot of long distance travel. Delays are virtually unheard of anymore."
"Unbelievable..." Doug said. He was starting, once again, to have a bit of a positive outlook about future technology.
"Pangaean Hoverlines flight 1610 to London is now boarding," a voice announced.
"OK, here we go," Darin said as they grabbed their things and walked towards the gate. They passed under yet another archway with a light that again turned green, granting them access to the train. They went down the extended walkway that connected to a car near the front of the train. To the right, in the first two cars behind the locomotive, was first class. Once again, archways with lights signaled who belonged where. The group went to the left and made their way down the aisle. On each side there were rows of three seats facing alternating directions. After passing through four cars, they reached their seats.
"Seating Group 124, yup, this is it," Darin said, and they sat down.
"Pretty nice," Vera said as she stuck her bag under her seat, "that we can sit facing and in a group like this. I'm surprised we have as much room as we do."
"Well with people coming in more shapes and sizes than ever before, they were kind of forced to make more room. Plus that was always the perk over airplanes, hovertrains were much more comfortable," Lyla said.
"Ah, here we are!" said a man standing in the aisle. "One two four, yes. Looks like I'll be joining your little group," he said, and took the last remaining aisle seat next to Vera, who smiled politely back. He was your average looking business man, slightly overweight, sporting a suit, brown bowler hat, and a brown leather briefcase. He placed the briefcase squarely on his lap, removed his bowler, and placed it neatly on top of the briefcase. He let out a long contented sigh and leaned his head back against the headrest. He seemed to have fallen asleep.
"So...anyhow, how long of a trip is it going to be?" Thomas asked after a time.
"About three and a half hours," Darin responded.
"That's all? Wow, pretty fast," Thomas said.
"Not really," Doug said. "The Concorde of our time could make the flight in just under three hours."
"Oh," Thomas said.
"But even though nearly all the planes before the last airline collapsed were slightly faster, the service was simply horrible," Darin replied.
"That it was!" said the man, suddenly becoming alert. "Back when I first started out in the business, we used one of the last few airlines for all our travel, and it was a thoroughly miserable experience."
"Oh? And just what is your business?" Vera asked out of curiosity.
"What? Business?" The man bolted up in his chair. "Oh, sorry," he said, nervously fiddling with his hat, "I don't like to talk about my business all that much."
"What? You just did! Just now, you talked about how your business had you traveling on the airlines," Vera responded.
"I did? Well you just said I did, so I guess I did. Strange. My business is actually in sales mostly."
"Selling what?"
"That's for me to know my dear, that's for me to know." He closed his eyes again and leaned back against the headrest.
"Strange," Vera turned and mouthed to Darin, who shrugged.
"So when we arrive at the airport, it'll be pretty late," Darin said. "We left the city at eleven, but London is five hours ahead of us, and the flight itself takes about three and a half hours, so it'll be 7:30 in the evening when we get there. It'll be past eight before we can even leave the hoverport. It's going to be too late to do anything, but I figure we can find a nice restaurant and then find a hotel to stay at."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Doug responded, and everyone else nodded.
"You're on a trip for pleasure I take it!" The strange gentleman sat up again. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, London is a great city, I visit it quite often myself."
"For business, right?" Vera said smiling, knowing that this would likely provoke a reaction.
"Yes, yes indeed, but it's one of many places I travel to, but of course I can't discuss that, no no. I also, however, do enjoy the occasional vacation in London, or holiday as I rightly should call it. Yes. Yes." Vera smirked. "I might actually recommend a restaurant to you, if you happen to enjoy a good curry," he paused, looking for any sign of approval, but none came quickly. Rather than to let control of the conversation escape his grasp, he continued. "There is a very good Indian restaurant called 'Talik's'. An excellent curry, most exquisite. If you are at all in the mood for such a thing, that is the place to go."
"Actually, I haven't had a good curry in a very long time," Thomas said, "and I wouldn't mind having some if everyone else was agreeable. Thanks for the suggestion."
"Quite welcome my boy, quite welcome." The man suddenly looked quickly around him, popped open his briefcase, and stole a look inside before securely latching it again and politely coughing. He then resumed his previous position with his head against the headrest.
"Hey," Thomas said suddenly, looking out the window. "Look at that!" Doug and Vera glanced over to see what he was referring to. They were whisking along at a intense rate of speed over the ocean, and yet, outside the windows, advertisements could be seen.
"Oh yeah, those are hover billboards," explained Darin. "See, many of the hovertrains that fly over the Atlantic travel along three main corridors, so advertising agencies deployed hovering billboards near these paths. They're connected to a system that tracks where the trains are. It's the same system that prevents the trains from colliding, except they have read-only access to the data, so they can't change anything. Anyhow, the computer on the billboard calculates where the closest train will be compared to its current location, and then quickly flies as near as it can to the path of that train. It can't move as fast as the train, but it places itself either to the left or right of the train and moves as fast as it can along the same path. That's why we're still able to read them even though we're passing them, we're not passing fast enough to make them illegible. They're all solar powered and the ads displayed are in a full rotation and updated as needed remotely."
Thomas stared out the window at the billboards as they passed. "Conquer Plaque!" declared one billboard featuring toothpaste. "Vote Rosalin for International House!" pleaded another. Conversation continued to focus around what to do once they got there, and they did, in fact, decide to go with the recommendation of Talik's Indian Cuisine. The man continued to make vague hints as to what he really did for a living, but would never confirm or deny anything he said. After roughly three hours and several more suspicious peeks inside the briefcase, they finally arrived at Heathrow Hoverport. Trains could be seen coming fast and furious, in and out from all directions.
"Good grief, they weren't exaggerating when they said that this was the busiest hoverport in the world," Thomas said.
"Oh no, not at all," said the man, "I've seen it far worse than it is now. We're actually getting in very quickly. Sometimes the trains would have to circle above the hoverport waiting till it's clear to approach. That was several years ago, of course, they continue to expand and make great strides in turnover speed."
"How ol
"Oh, I'm only sixty dear, but a lot has changed in the time that I've been living."
"Huh. What was your name again?"
"Ah, but I never gave it to you, Vera!"
"I never gave you mine either..."
"Yes, but I learned a lot about you five from your conversation on the trip. I always listen intently. You can learn a lot about people that way, and that's the mark of a good salesman. Here," he said, digging in his pockets, "here is a copy of my business card. Keep in touch, it was lovely to meet you." The man walked off and disappeared.
"What a strange person," Thomas said.
"What does his card say?" Doug asked. Vera just laughed. "What? What's it say?"
"I can see why he was so secretive about his work," Vera said, still chuckling.
"Just read it!" Doug said, growing impatient.
"Carlton J. Corning, Used Furniture Salesman," Vera read aloud, "Caring for all your low-end needs! Call 529401520709 for a free quote!"
"What a strange person!" Thomas said again.
"Yeah, we got it," Darin said, laughing, "let's go!" They grabbed their bags from under their seats and made their way down the aisle with relative ease. "The secret is," Darin said as they walked, "to wait until everyone else is through with standing in the aisles not moving. It's much less stressful, and once the traffic jam is gone, you can just breeze through."
"You know, you seem to think very deeply about mundane things," Vera said.
"There's the Vera we know!" Doug hissed to Thomas.
"What?" She asked, turning around. "I heard my name!" Doug blushed, Vera smiled, and turned forward again to see where she was going. They exited the train into the terminal of the sprawling mass that is Heathrow Hoverport.