Pop Travel Page 13

  Keeping his pop anxiety under control proved harder as the minutes dripped by. Cooper wanted to hurry up and get it over with. Checking the accuracy of the large clock over the elevators, he brought up the time on his QV and saw he had three messages. Good. A brief diversion from a potential panic attack.

  Vid Message 1, 11:45 a.m., from Dawson. “Hey, bro. How ya doin? Are you nervous? Ha-ha. Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. Just wanted to let you know we popped out of South Dakota and made it to Wisconsin all in one piece, see? I had to wish you luck one last time before you took your first pop. Gotta go do a lunch. Watch your step!”

  Thanks, D.

  Vid Message 2, 11:58 a.m. Cooper jerked his head back when he recognized the middle-aged woman wearing a worried expression.

  “Hey, Cooper. I was wondering if you knew where Miki might be? She didn’t come home last night. Neither did Jared. We are a little worried. It’s not like her to vanish without telling anyone. And she missed the bridal brunch this morning. If you hear from her, please tell her to check in with us. Thank you.”

  That’s not good. He tried Miki’s number.

  No answer. He left her a message to call him. Cooper had been suspicious of the strange guy Miki told him about yesterday. Strangers were rare at the office, and the chance of having two in a row was like Cooper pitching a perfect game. That guy had to be an agent, according to Miki’s description. Too professional to be a PTI lackey, like the guy he had encountered. The agent had probably taken them in for questioning. He hoped that was all it turned out to be. He gulped hard and called Miki’s mom back.

  “Hello? Oh, Cooper. Have you heard from Miki?”

  “No, Theresa. I’m sorry. I talked to her yesterday afternoon and gave her the rest of the weekend off to prepare for the wedding. I don’t know where she is. But I wouldn’t worry. Maybe she and Jared are planning a surprise for Misty.”

  “This is so unlike her. I wanted to file a missing persons report.”

  “I wouldn’t do that just yet. The police say to wait twenty-four hours at the least. I bet she shows up soon with a great explanation.” He gave her a convincing smile. Cooper felt confident Miki and Jared were safe. At least ninety percent sure. Not that he could do anything for them from his current location. But Miki was tough and Cooper couldn’t afford to worry about her yet. Though he hoped she was okay and wanted to help find her, he first had to go through with this pop and solve the cover-up. One more reason to put an end to this insanity, and fast.

  “Well, if you say so. I will wait a little longer. The rehearsal dinner is tonight. I’m calling the police if she doesn’t show up by then.”

  “Okay. I’m sure she will be there.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cooper. I feel a little better now that I’ve talked to you. Be sure to call if you hear from her. Bye.”

  Cooper shook his head. What else would happen? He thought of Dawson. They probably had him watched and wired, too. But they couldn’t kidnap him; he was too visible and constantly surrounded by staff and guards. Cooper had to get this resolved. All this killing and preying on those close to him had to stop. This pop better be worth it. He frowned at the time; still five minutes to wait. He checked his last message.

  Vid Message 3, 12:09 p.m. Geri? His puzzled expression changed to a pleased grin as he watched her lovely face begin speaking in that slow, sexy drawl.

  “Hello, J.L. Remember little ol’ me? Well, I have some good news for you. But you have to call me back by two o’clock sharp. It’s about the plantations we discussed. I hope you get this message in time. Bye, now.”

  It was 2:55. Too late. Wonder what that was about? He sat back and smiled, sincerely happy for the first time in years. He could face anything now. Looking forward to seeing her again gave him incentive to get through this alive.

  An announcement interrupted his positive thoughts.

  “Attention, please. Calling travelers for gates B15, C3, and E9. I repeat. Gates B15, C3, and E9, you may now proceed to the elevators. 3:20 departing travelers please proceed to gates B15, C3, and E9 for premedical examinations. Thank you.”

  Finally. On a banner above the elevators, and at the top of the giant imager, Cooper saw the same announcement scrolling. Wouldn’t want anyone to miss his pop.

  Cooper’s stomach tightened its knots. Acting casual with a stretch, he scanned the waiting travelers to see who got up to leave. Only three people, a young couple and an older gentleman, were dressed stylishly enough to be joining him for the party.

  After several deep, calming breaths, Cooper pulled himself up and slowly walked over to the elevators. Velvet rails protected them, and an android attendant scanned thumbprints, like they were going to see a movie screening. Cooper again waited to be last. No hurry.

  When they reached level B, Cooper followed the fancy guests to their gate. Unlike the open platforms at the ATC, the gates in local, small-distance travel stations were enclosed in rooms. Their footsteps echoed in the old, renovated school building with an ominous ring in Cooper’s ears. The other travelers treated the process like a boring routine.

  The exam room for the pre-pop med check looked like a small clinic, with rows of curtained sections for the exams. Fewer travelers meant no expensive scanners. Must be cheaper to do it the old-fashioned way at the local level.

  A pleasant male android sitting at a desk greeted the group as they approached, giving them each a plate with another form and waiver to read and validate. Which no one read and all thumbed. They had already decided they were going through with it; thumbing their life away was just a formality.

  Once the robot receptionist determined everything was in order, it assigned them each to an examination area. Cooper expected to go from one waiting area to stew longer in the next, like a regular doctor’s office. He didn’t know if he would be able to keep his lunch down.

  As Cooper entered the exam room, behind curtain number three, his heart jumped up to his throat. He swallowed hard, making it sink back down. He didn’t think he’d be able to respond with more than a headshake.

  “Mr. Cooper?” a burly, yet handsome nurse asked as she pushed through the partition. She looked like a Helga, but her nametag said Jill.

  He nodded.

  “Please take off your jacket and have a seat, Mr. Cooper.” She indicated a hook and the chair. Cooper exhaled a bit of relief she hadn’t asked him to hop up onto the paper-covered exam table. Maybe he could keep his clothes on, too. Dawson had teased him about random cavity searches and coughing.

  He sat down in slow motion.

  “Is this your first pop, Mr. Cooper?” she asked as she light-sanitized her hands, then prepared her probing instruments.

  He nodded.

  “Ah. Well, it’s nothing to worry about. Now roll up your sleeve, please. I just need to take a few readings and ask some questions. Then the doctor will take a quick look at you.”

  While taking his blood pressure and temperature using a vein reader on his arm, she asked if he had any medical concerns. She finished in no time, recording all the information on her plate. She left, and two minutes later, the doctor came in, studying the plate.

  “Hello, Mr. Cooper.” The doctor shook Cooper’s hand. He looked like a decent guy.

  Cooper nodded at him and wondered how many times the doctor had popped. Did he realize he was okaying people to be sent to their possible doom?

  “Feeling healthy today, Mr. Cooper?” The doctor glanced back at his chart.

  Cooper nodded again.

  “Not very talkative, eh? A little nervous?”

  Cooper cleared his throat.

  “I guess.”

  “I see.” The doctor chuckled. “Well, your readings are good. I just have a couple of additional questions and you can be on your way.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you ever had any seizures?”

  “No.” Seizures?

  “Any migraines? Or intense headaches?”

  “No.” When do they start?
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  “Recurring nosebleeds?”

  “No.”

  “Impaired vision?”

  “No.”

  The doctor checked all the boxes and hand scanned the form, then pulled out a stamper from his pocket.

  “Your left wrist, please.”

  Cooper held it out. The doctor stamped him but Cooper saw nothing.

  “Great. You’re all set. This is your pass to the platform.”

  “Thank you.” Cooper looked at his arm again. The doctor nodded and stepped out, leaving the curtain open. Cooper noticed him enter the next room. Nice little assembly line. Make sure we’re healthy before we turn to dust.

  Cooper rose on wobbly legs. Feeling like he had aged ten years from the time he walked into the station, he put on his jacket and collected himself, taking a deep breath. Through the curtains, he followed lit arrows on the floor to the marked door and held out his stamped wrist. The android’s eyes flashed an ultraviolet light on it to reveal the stamp, and the door buzzed open, adding to Cooper’s queasiness. Freaky.

  Cooper steeled himself and went through to find his platform dock number. Mind over matter, he coached himself. If I don’t make it, at least I tried.

  The brightly lit platform floor reflected the steel cylinders, giving the room an eerie glow. The other guests settled into their dock seats like the process of decomposing and recomposing meant nothing. Cooper hoped he could keep himself from vomiting for a few more minutes.

  He found B15-4, and the anesthesiologist greeted him.

  “Hello, Mr. Cooper,” she said with a hearts and rainbows smile. Hard to tell if she was a real person or not. She seemed real.

  “Hello,” he forced himself to reply through gritted teeth.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I have your injection when you’re ready.” She held up her syringe gun, with her hip cocked. Her tone sounded rushed. She was real. His tedious caution must have been putting her behind schedule. He climbed into the raised lounge chair and stiffly leaned back. That was as comfortable as he was going to get.

  “I’m ready,” he said, not ready.

  “You should try to relax.” She swabbed his arm with a numbing antiseptic. He wished everyone would stop telling him that. “You won’t feel a thing. Just count back from one hundred.”

  He closed his eyes. “One hundred,” I wonder, “ninety-nine,” how many, “ninety-eight,” times she, “ninety-seven,” says that.a.day…

  He heard the door seal shut and he was out.

  Beasley Hills Plantation

  3:10 p.m., Friday, July 26

  eri sat up and smiled. A pop always rejuvenated her.

  The door slid open and a handsome nurse greeted her.

  “Hello, Ms. Harper. I hope you had a pleasant pop.”

  “Why, thank you. I certainly did.”

  “Excellent. Please go through the door to the recovery room” He held out his arm to show her the way.

  As she stepped off the platform, she heard another reception nurse welcoming some other travelers.

  “Hello, Miss Stanley. How was your transmission?”

  Now Geri recognized the young and upcoming starlet, Shea Stanley, who had looked familiar to Geri at the pop station before they left. The pretty girl woke up ornery, with a scowl, and called out for her possessive, wrestler boyfriend in the next dock.

  That’s what she gets for high-popping.

  Regeneration after a pop felt like instant rehab. Geri shook her head and smiled to herself as she continued through to the recovery room, anticipating a big night.

  3:21 p.m., Friday, July 26

  Cooper slowly opened his eyes. Still in the confining chamber, he sat up and let his feet dangle. He held his head, feeling a little woozy. Is it over? Did I really make it in one piece?

  The door slid open.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Cooper. How was your transmission?” the reception nurse asked pleasantly.

  Cooper patted his chest, feeling the firmness of his body, making sure everything was in the right place. I made it! He couldn’t stop smiling. I did it!

  “I feel great!” He surprised himself with his exuberant shout. He had to hold himself back from grabbing the nurse and giving her a kiss to celebrate he was still alive.

  “Glad to hear it. If you would just go through that door to the recovery room,” she said, taking a step back.

  He acted like a first-time traveler, but he didn’t care. He was one. And he knew the extended risk he had taken. He had every right to rejoice.

  As he walked to the door with a bounce in his step, he heard the technician preparing for the next batch of guests to be reconstructed.

  “Inbound travelers,” the guy announced.

  On his way out, Cooper glanced back at the platform. He quickly got over his momentary jubilation at arriving in one piece, as the purpose for being there splashed over him like a bucket of cold water. I wonder if they’ve ever received an accident here.

  In the recovery room, Cooper joined the next assembly line to wait for one of the exit nurses. Before they could go, another doctor scanned Cooper, checked his reflexes and vision, then checked him off as whole. Finally, an attendant android took his thumbprint to verify he accepted his condition. Yeah. I made it. And hopefully won’t have to do it again anytime soon.

  Another android greeted the cleared guests.

  “Welcome. Would you all please follow me?”

  Cooper had never seen so many androids in one day. This one had disturbing silver eyes and wore a strange, metallic jumpsuit that said Security on the back, like a concert bouncer. As the group followed it down the hall, they approached a set of double doors, and Cooper caught sight of his first Men In Black standing guard. Cooper sized him up and sniffed. He could take him. But the androids were another story. No telling what sort of arsenal hid inside one of those things. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out and made a quick mental map of the travelport building in case he needed a quick getaway plan later. Noting every possible obstacle he might have to face, or avoid, he blocked out the fact he would have to pop to leave.

  As the guests walked by the guard, he stared past them with his hands behind his back and his chin high, giving the security android a slight sneer. Through the door, a large rotunda with a spider-webbed, wood beam ceiling opened up before them. Looking at all the antique iron farm gadgets and rustic lanterns with LED bulbs, some decorator had gone to impressive lengths to infuse antique décor with the latest technology. But those silver security droids standing at attention around the edges like knights in armor were distracting. Cooper judged the ratio of droids to guests to be about one to ten. That seemed excessive.

  While he waited, Cooper recognized a few faces among the glitzy gowns and expensive suits, but no one stood out as a political proponent of pop travel. The din of gossip with everyone clamoring to be heard grew annoying. Thankfully, a host dressed in a long, shiny black tunic and pants entered, and they all quieted down to listen when he raised his arms.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Kadir,” he said with a sweeping bow. “Welcome to the Beasley Hills Plantation. The Creator is honored you have journeyed from far and near to celebrate with him on this most special occasion. Please follow me and I will escort you to the party grounds.” He used exaggerated, flowing arm gestures as he spoke.

  Kadir pressed a palm pad, opening the large set of double doors leading outside. As the bright afternoon sun streamed in, the crowd funneled out behind Kadir and boarded a waiting tram. Taking an outer seat next to an older gentleman escorting a much younger woman, Cooper wondered if the guy was a PTI exec out for a fling, or maybe he brought a sophisticated android. Hard to tell. Those things got more detailed with every new generation.

  As the tram smoothly rolled south, Cooper classified the scenery. Old magnolia trees with their large white flowers, towering sycamores, and bell-bottom cypress crowded both sides of the road. The ancient trees and rolling hills were picturesque, but they al
so blocked his view of the rest of the property. Remembering his map, Cooper oriented himself. The travelport building must be located on the outskirts where the old school house originally stood. To his left, the vegetation grew thicker, and every so often, he saw a small stretch of aged wooden fencing among the trees. He fixed his gaze to confirm the glints of red weren’t just his imagination. Laser fencing, all right.

  When they passed an intersection, Cooper looked down the road to his right. His eyebrows raised at the sight of a pristine, classic Italian sports car parked in an old-fashioned, wooden garage. Several other doors surrounding it were closed. The Creator’s toys, no doubt. Must be nice.

  Soon the tram reached the party grounds and eased to a stop at the end of a long, wooden building that had turned gray from the elements or chemical antiquing agents. Above a set of ten-foot double doors hung a sign that said, Beasley Hills Stables. Four decked-out hovercarts were parked underneath the sign.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you enjoy your visit to Beasley Hills Plantation. Please exit to your right,” Kadir said. He sounded like an amusement park ride operator.

  The guests disembarked and the tram circled around a flowerbed median, heading back to pick up some more.

  As the guests paraded down a covered walk alongside the building, they were greeted by servers wearing colorful Polynesian Island costumes and offering exotic, smoking green drinks with fruit garnishes stabbed by saber picks and gourmet hors d’oeuvres of odd consistencies to sample. Cooper declined the alcohol and appetizers but got snagged with a lei as he picked up a program of events from a table. It included a map of the festivities, like the exotic petting zoo, the individualized six-course dinner, and million-dollar entertainment. The Creator had chosen a fresh new techno-rap band Cooper hadn’t heard of for the guests to digest their dinner to. Great.