At this distance names are obscured, as much as he tries to zoom in on individuals. Good, that’s how he designed it, to protect anonymity at long range. But if he could get back there, back into Brooklyn, back to where he could find the source, the first nodes to join…
“Hey, you done?” The woman interrupts him. “Can I get them back?”
“Sorry.” He hands them back to her, sees his hands are shaking. Excitement, disbelief. Embarrassment.
“You know about this stuff, huh?”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“I can get you a pair, maybe. If you come with me.”
“I need to get back to New York.”
She laughs. “Oh, honey. Trust me, you’re going back to NYC. I should be packing you into one of these trucks right now to send you back to work on the farms. To help rebuild Queens and Brooklyn. But you look like you know what you’re doing with this… with this shit. We need people like you. Agree to help me and things can be a lot easier. So yeah, you’re going back to NYC. It’s just whether you want to ride in the back of the truck with those cracker freaks or in the jeep with me.”
He smiles at her. “The jeep sounds more comfortable.”
Out in the jeep Lajune unzips her flak jacket, throws it on the seat behind her. Stretches her arms, her neck. She’s stiff, could do with a bath. A bed. Home.
She slips on her spex, opens a channel to Kareem.
“We got everybody clear? Safe distance?”
“Affirmative, commander. All operatives clear and at safe distance. Freed residents also at safe distance, awaiting pickup.”
“Understood. Light her up. Over and out.”
“Affirmative. Initiating EMP detonation now, sir. Have a good ride home.”
She sits in silence. It takes about ten seconds. She can imagine Kareem or one of his squad hitting the three primer buttons in sequence, then finally the detonator.
Then it starts, the brief, muted but still loud click click click of explosions from inside the low building, like someone letting off a stream of firecrackers in a steel box. The building, structurally unaffected, plunges into darkness.
She sighs again. Nervously she turns the jeep’s ignition, relaxes as it springs into life. She does the same thing every time they do a wipe; panics that she’s not gotten safe enough away, and that the electromagnetic pulse is going to fuck with the car. It’s never happened. But it’s become a ritual, reassuring, something she can’t quite explain.
She turns to the weird, bedraggled British guy in the passenger seat, still unsure she’s made the right decision letting him ride with her.
“You probably think we’re crazy doing this, huh? Think we’re barbaric.”
He smiles back at her. “Actually, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
And she puts the jeep in drive and pulls away.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would never have happened without the love and support of sava saheli singh and my parents.
Huge thanks also to my agent, Grainne Fox, for her belief, persistence, and always paying for the coffee. And to Sean McDonald for taking a gamble.
Beyond that there’s an almost infinite list of friends and people who helped me, influenced me, paid me, bought me lunch, or encouraged me along the way—of which this is (in no particular order) just a tiny selection:
Simon Ings, Liam Young, Kate Davies, Lydia Nicholas, Sumit Paul-Choudhury, Brian Merchant, Brendan Byrne, Black Lives Matter, Ingrid Burrington, Frank Swain, Justin Pickard, Craig Willingham, Mike Wolf, Cory Doctorow, Jack Womack, Alan Tabrett, Bobi Richardson, Forsaken, Superflux, Jonathan Wright, Urmilla Deshpande, the crew of the Maersk Seletar (July 2014), Veronica Goldstein, Daniel Vazquez, everyone at FSG.
And the people of Brooklyn and Bristol.
A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tim Maughan is an author and a journalist who explores issues around cities, class, culture, globalization, technology, and the future. His work regularly appears on the BBC and in VICE and New Scientist. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Copyright
MCD × FSG Originals
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
175 Varick Street, New York 10014
Copyright © 2019 by Tim Maughan
All rights reserved
First edition, 2019
ASCII illustration in chapter 11 by David Palmer
E-book ISBN: 978-0-374-71860-2
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