EMPIRE CITY (eBook)

1.

The anticipation inside the new intercity transporter seems to ricochet off its glass walls and buzz audibly, despite the ten councilors’ respectful silence. Jason looks at the scenery to hide his excitement: a Byzantium sun lights up the Southern Highway as they cut across the wilderness towards Star City, the host for the tri-city vote. Every now and again, Benedetta gives Jason’s knee a squeeze; like most people aboard, this is her first trip to Star.

“How long left?” she asks, despite having her own timepiece, a gift from Jason, strapped to her wrist.

“Half an hour. Not bad for a maiden voyage.”

The new transporter, a gift from Cutter Industries, finally equaled the speed of hover-jet bikes, thanks to its eight rotors and three pulse generators. They had left Empire four hours ago and been treated to undulating desert, dramatic ravines and secret waterfalls, owing to the vehicle’s glass dome. A state-of-the-art shading system tracks the sun’s position so that, above each passenger, a little spot of shade is created. In spite of the blistering weather, the autonomous vehicle is as cool as any city lobby.

Jason tears his eyes from the landscape to admire the interior of Cutter’s creation: fourteen seats are arranged around the oval chamber, all occupied by councilors, judges, senators and military advisors of his own selection, a few of whom have activated the tables, which pop up from the vehicle floor at the press of a button, to read through reports. Mattie eats a sandwich on his right, and Benedetta reads a book, between pointing at macaws and squeezing Jason’s leg, on his left.

“Shall we tell Mattie?” he whispers in her ear. She bites her lip and nods, dark eyes sparkling. “So, Mattie, have you heard the good news?” Jason tries to keep his voice down so as not to alert the po-faced officials.

“What news?” His mouth is full of bread.

“We found out something today.”

“Come on, spill.”

“I’ll wait till you’ve finished.”

“Err, ok,” replies Mattie, polishing off the sandwich in one enormous bite, before licking his fingers with comedy relish. “Can’t beat a good club. So, what is it?”

“I’m going to be a father.”

“Get out of here.”

“I’m serious, man.”

“Nah, you’re joking,” garbles Mattie, leaning across Jason to address Benedetta. “Isn’t he?”

“Nope,” says Benedetta, without looking up from the book she’s pretending to read.

“Well, gosh, wow, congrats.” Mattie leans back in his seat, a dazed look on his face. “That’s big news for Empire. Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It’s still too early to know,” answers Benedetta.

“If it’s a girl,” says Mattie, sitting up straight, “that’s another huge first for our city!”

“I’d love a girl, to be honest,” says Benedetta, giving up on the book and turning all her attention excitedly to Mattie. “But your friend here wants a boy. Wait till he sees his daughter, though; his heart’s going to melt.” She elbows Jason and winks.

“When did I say I wanted a boy?”

The truth is Jason doesn’t really care, even though he’d teased Benedetta all morning. The new world meant any child would be safe, free from the tyranny of yore, the savagery of the marauders and the isolationism they had encouraged. Any child of theirs would be able to aim for the galaxies, able to travel across the continent at high speeds and achieve glory no matter what. Jason looks around at the grave senators for whom fatherhood would never be possible, leaps to his feet and whoops at the top of his voice.

“Jason!”

As they approach Star City, Benedetta, red-faced, now feigning fascination in her book, Mattie bursting into laughter every now and again, the scenery transforms. Tangled scrubland stops abruptly, to be replaced with rows and rows of trees and vegetables. Jason has seen it all before, having already visited three times since the completion of the new highway, but for everyone else, the sight of agriculture on this scale is brand new.

“Look at the size of those oranges!” shouts Benedetta. “The tomatoes are even bigger than Oak’s.”

“Ah man, maybe I should have saved myself,” says Mattie, brushing the sandwich crumbs from his lap.

Soon, the city rises above the canopy of olive groves and avocado trees. Snipers patrol the concrete walls, and guns protrude from old-fashioned crenelated turrets, ready to mow down thieves.

“I know it’s a big city—two mil, right?—but do they really need all of this?”

“They export to settlements with shortages of certain good,” explains a judge, dreamily. “So unlike our glass pyramids in Agricultural District, isn’t it?”

The transporter glides through the golden gates at the northeastern side, the highway panels connecting seamlessly to Star’s freeway. The walls are half the height of Empire’s, standing at only thirty feet, but the architecture is like none other in the modern world. In fact, all the government buildings in Star haven’t been seen since antiquity.

In contrast to the tall modern skyscrapers of Empire’s ministries, here, colossal reconstructions of history’s most famous edifices loom large amongst thousands of single-story buildings. A law passed in order to magnify the glory of government, the low buildings are the reason that, each decade, Star City expands its walls to make space for an uncontrolled population.

‘Ninety-five-mile circumference currently,’ scoffs an advisor at Jason’s elbow. But for all the bad logic of Star’s policy, Jason cannot help but marvel at the effect as they drive towards the city center where the Grand Senate towers.

They travel along the twenty-lane freeway that cuts the city in half, stretching from the northeastern gate to the southwest; smaller gates are dotted around the wall for military purposes and farming, but, as far as the general public is concerned, the only way in and out is through the two golden gates—a measure designed to control who leaves and enters the city. The twenty-lane freeway pumps commuters to the roads connected to it vertically, like a heart pumping blood to the body.

“Jesus, this building’s insane!” whistles Benedetta, as they draw up to the senate. “It looks so much like that colosseum I’ve been reading about. Except bigger, way bigger!”

“You know it took them eighty-seven years to complete? They only finished it last year.”

“Look at all those marble pillars! Have you seen anything more perfectly white? Oh, I know those statues! I think that’s Apollo, and that one’s Nero maybe.”

“Well, that one’s definitely Governor Ajax. If only the architect was still alive, I’d commission him to create something like this in Empire,” says Jason, feeling a familiar twang of regret. “But Seneca passed away twenty years ago. Never saw his masterpiece completed.”

They mount the steps in awestruck silence. Although the gargantuan building is referred to as the senate—the tri-city senate, the body uniting settlements in the North, residing on the top floor—it also houses all the ministries and public services of the city. As Jason and his cohorts walk up to the colonnade, their steps echoing grandly, Jason thinks how the way everything is centralized is a testament to Star’s style of leadership.

“Welcome to our city, everyone,” booms a voice, magnified by the acoustics.

Governor Ajax, the leader of Star City, appears from an archway and opens his arms to the party from Empire. In his mid-sixties, he wears Hellenic white robes and his long gray hair is neatly held by a golden band. He is well-built for his age, resembling his Aegean namesake.

“It’s good to be here, Your Excellency,” says Jason, clasping the governor’s hand. “We are so looking forward to tomorrow’s vote. I truly believe the election of a new leader for our Northern alliance will bring such hope for the future.”

“Oh indeed, indeed! Come, follow me,” says Ajax, beckoning to the Empyreans, as the enormous wooden gate of the senate opens.

A cavernous atrium awaits, so vast and empty that Jason has the impression he has walked into the inside of a whale. Marble floors gleam, and once he has processed the sheer magnitude of the space, he notices the designs on the walls: images from the city’s history beautifully rendered in lapis lazuli and minium. A welcome committee stands at the back of the huge hall, like a host of angels.

“You must be exhausted by your long journey,” says Ajax as Jason stares longingly at the depiction of Ajax’s forebear, twice the size of the real man. “My people will direct you to your rooms so you can get some rest before dinner.”

Once they reach the elevator, Jason thanks the governor heartily, bids farewell to the rest of his men and follows the guide to his and Benedetta’s suite.

They enter a luxurious room, whose walls are of the same unrendered stone as the senate exterior, but whose furnishings are as opulent as a palace’s. Benedetta rushes to the panoramic window.

“Look how tiny the houses look from up here!”

“I told you it was impressive,” replies Jason, joining her by the window.

“It’s so beautiful, Jason. No wonder everyone voted it the capital of our new nation.”

“It was a good move from our senior judges,” agrees Jason, unemotionally, “one that showed solidarity and commitment to the new union, not to mention the...