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Escape Pod 1058: Riftwork (Part 2 of 2)


Riftwork (Part 2 of 2)

By C. W. Maurer

(…Continued from Part 1)

I glance back at Risa to find her backing away from the damaged support, wiping her fingers on her worksuit. She looks at me, blinking. “What do you mean, ‘water’?”

“The tunnel’s flooded. Flooding.” It must slope down from the turn, because the next 50 feet or so are submerged. “It’s not deep, but if it’s spread that far since Zef went through yesterday…”

She shudders and takes a few more steps away from the wooden support, wiping her hand again. “There must be another leak here. A small one. The wood is rotten through. That couldn’t have happened since yesterday.”

I stand at the corner, staring at the pool of water in front of me and the flat layer of gray-white sediment covering the bottom of it.

For that much sediment to have washed in overnight… (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1057: Riftwork (Part 1 of 2)


Riftwork (Part 1 of 2)

By C. W. Maurer

It’s no secret that the surfies think we’re crazy.

It’s no surprise either, when you think how thin the air is up there. With all the light and noise and space, I doubt a person could think two thoughts in a row without their attention going off-route.

How else could they misunderstand so much?

Risa told us once—during some late-night chatter in the girls’ residential node—that most surfies she grew up with think all us rifters work the periphery. Her own da thought she’d be setting up a bed in un-shored tunnels with a million tons of rock and concrete and steel and people overhead.

We apprentices won’t even see the periphery nodes until we’re journeymen.

And the journeymen might get to work in the periphery nodes, but it’s still math-practice and map-drafting and material-inventory duty under the eye of the masters for three more years.

Only the masters venture into the tunnels.

They’re the ones the surfies really mean, when they call us crazy. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1055: Impossibility Crow (Flashback Friday)


Impossibility Crow

By Remy Nakamura

The Kingdom Coffee Missionary Handbook tells Paulo that he should always put his guns away during a door approach. He’s heard this hundreds of times before, but the Handbook speaks with a voice of authority, deep like a luchador’s, strong like a drill sergeant’s, calm like his abuelito’s. It slides in just under his ARgog’s selectively amplified environmental audio. 450 bonus points if the contact is completed without violence, calculates the Handbook, 900 if there are no deaths. Each death harms the public image of the Kingdom, the Handbook tells him. Paulo nods agreement. Way better to spread the faith on the no-kill difficulty setting.

Still, Paulo is not stupid, so he pauses to load Rambo, his ancient and lovingly modded M4A1 Carbine, before slinging it across his back. Looking bad-ass is his favorite violence prevention technique. The Handbook says nothing about tear gas, and he decides not to mention the CS smoke grenade in his left pocket. His last couple of leads had ended with tense stand-offs. Goddess, yo creo, he prays silently. Help my unbelief. He fingers his mala of Robusto beans, sniffing hard to catch its fading aroma. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1054: Takahata-fudo

Show Notes

This episode is sponsored by Sleepphones! Use code ESCAPEPOD and get 10% off your purchase.


Takahata-fudo

by Meridel Newton

If you walk far enough along the old Keio line rail tracks to the west of the crumbling city, you eventually reach a steep hillside covered in blue and purple flowers, host to a beautiful wreck of a temple. The flowers are always blooming, and the temple seems somehow arrested in time, caught between its former glory and the genteel decay that afflicts all human constructs. There’s a stream with clear flowing water and a perfect little retainer pond, and there I’d stopped to refill my water supply when I first met Satou Sekihito, the temple attendant.

It is, of course, unusual for me to encounter anyone at all this far from the city center, much less a lone old man with no weapon but a pushbroom he probably made himself. So I was maybe a little off my guard, which is the only reason he got as close as he did before I heard a soft footfall and whirled around, nearly dropping a precious canteen as I did so.

Picture this, if you will: an old man, thin, but taller than most younger men these days. No mask. He wears a grey robe that was once light blue, and hakama that hangs in tatters around his ankles. He’s wearing tabi, and oddly enough, that’s the detail that relaxes me. You can’t walk very far in tabi, or over any rough terrain at all. This old man probably doesn’t stray far from the temple grounds. He can’t be any threat.

(Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1051: You Have Arrived at Your Destination


You Have Arrived at Your Destination

By Jo Miles

It starts with an accident.

A dreary day, the road slick with rain. Emily’s letting the car’s auto-drive do the work because she’s brain-fried and exhausted, eyes glazed over from the weekday grind. In her head—and okay, muttering aloud—she’s continuing today’s argument with Calvin, the project manager, about timelines and corner-cutting and how they’re possibly going to get this update done on schedule, when the old woman walking a cat—walking a cat?—steps into the street without looking.

The car reacts faster than Emily’s distracted human reflexes; a millisecond’s analysis of the situation and its programming determines how to minimize harm, swerving to hit a telephone pole instead of the person. As the car whips around, in the prolonged instant before the crunch, the old woman stares at Emily. Long nose in a shriveled face. Cloudy grey eyes that, despite being shadowed by the raincoat’s hood, stab straight through Emily, seeing too much.

The afterimages of those eyes dance in Emily’s vision as she punches back the airbag.

“Shit! Oh, damn it.”

Heart pounding, adrenaline sour in her throat, Emily is more awake than she’s been in months. She stumbles out on shaking legs, apologies spilling out of her. “Hey, holy crap, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

But the old woman is gone. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1050: Freebooter

Show Notes

This episode is sponsored by Sleepphones! Use code ESCAPEPOD and get 10% off your purchase.


Freebooter

by Sylvie Althoff

The pirate bot was easy to miss. Squatting against a wall on the periphery of the Saint-Denis Heritage Market, it looked like an ordinary if outmoded HomeBot—a Gen One, the skinny bipedal kind that populated storage closets and garbage dumps the world over. But when backs were turned and no drones swooped overhead, Talia glimpsed a fluttering, holographic black flag flickering over the bot’s head.

Under bare chestnut branches and Haussmann roofs the color of smog, the vendors nearly outnumbered the shoppers. Steeped in the stifling late-winter air, the market felt as if it would give up the ghost any minute. Then again, it had been sliding into death since long before Talia fled here on a midnight flight from Texas…maybe even when she used to visit her grandparents as a young boy.

Ugh. For a world that was ending, this blasted planet sure was taking its time.

(Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1049: Amrit


Amrit

By Kiran Kaur Saini

The doorbell rang as Fox Singh lay staring into the plumbing under the kitchen sink. “Go away!” He wasn’t expecting anybody, and if any of his neighbors ever rang, it was only to complain about the volume of his television. The joints on the p-trap looked like Fox’s knees felt—crusted over with white flake but somehow still leaking fluids all over the cabinet.

“Mr. Singh,” a voice called. “This is Amrit, your Senior Well-Being Unit.”

What? This couldn’t be. Did they honestly think he was that old and incapable? Fox hauled himself up and hobbled to the peephole. The Unit wore a hot-pink turban with leopard spots. Seriously? His beard was tucked tidily under his chin, though, much neater than Fox’s, and his glaring turban was also more streamlined: impressively crisp, each overlap at precisely the right position. In recent years Fox had resigned himself to a delivery service, and though the scanner had read the shape and measurements of his head, the turbans never fit as they would if he tied them himself. The Unit smiled and waved. He really did look almost human. Fox licked his fingers, twirled the ends of his mustache together, smoothed his beard, and opened the door. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1048: The Library of the Apocalypse


The Library of the Apocalypse

By Rati Mehrotra

Hunter’s Moon rises fat and golden over the burned-out husk of the CN Tower. Excitement ripples through us, making us forget, for the moment, the hunger that gnaws our insides. The sign for the Library appears only on clear, full moon nights, and it’s been months since we last saw it. Will tonight be the night we see it again? Sheila thinks so, but she is the most optimistic among us. Also the sickest, but we try not to think about that.

We wear respirators as we pick through the debris above ground, scanning the surroundings with our sensors. It’s not the coy-wolves we fear, but other humans—stronger, better armed, more dangerous. Not everyone left the city when it burned. There are too many memories beneath the rubble, too many bones. We cannot abandon them.

What will it look like this time, do you think? asks Katie as we make our way single file through a narrow alley toward Queen Street. The walls still stand here, covered with neon graffiti, glowing pink and purple in the moonlight: Resist the Invaders; Fuck America; Canada is Not For Sale. And, oddly, Free the Capybaras. (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1045: The Graduates of Formost 891c


The Graduates of Formost 891c

By Frank Baird Hughes

They say that in Texas, the best jobs go to the best citizens. The goal is national full employment. And everyone, no matter their work history, has their place in this great plan.

“You want me to leave Earth to be a child wrangler?” asked Blooming. “But I’ve never taught anything to anybody. Not even to ride a bike.” He regarded the job counselor with a half-hooded gaze, struggling to produce alternatives—anything besides those positions he’d already turned down—and failing. Blooming pushed his chair back, made as if to stand, then waited to see what the counselor would say.

“This student population is unique,” said the job counselor, which sat atop the kiosk counter decanted into a matte gray plasticine cube favored by the many minor functionaries of the Texan Kybocracy. “Extremely intelligent young people. Their parents regrettably perished during the Reorganization. It was decided their children should continue their education offworld. Your traits on the Lone Star Inventory concord well enough with this task.” (Continue Reading…)

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Escape Pod 1043: The Smokejumpers


The Smokejumpers

By Sierra Bibi

When Fern jumps from the plane into the smoke for the very first time, she believes she has nothing left to lose. That’s not to say she’s unafraid exactly—not even hundreds of hours of simulations and dozens of practice jumps can prepare you for the reality of plummeting into the hazy unknown of an active forest fire. No, her fear is definitely there, but folded and tucked somewhere deep inside herself. Compartamentalized.

The smoke hurtles towards her, the ground below hidden. She rips her parachute—a massive thing designed to support the heft of her exoskeleton—and jerks backwards. (Continue Reading…)

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