Breaker

Chapter 4-2

Eddie hadn’t debated as much as he probably should have when Rivet had suggested Eddie follow him back home, nor had he stopped and worried when home had turned out to be in as bad a condition as the garage attached to it. He’d been too caught up in listening to Rivet talk about Exile. It wasn’t that Eddie believed what Rivet was saying, because he didn’t. He’d smiled and nodded when Rivet had told him that not only had Rivet seen the island, but had lived there for some time. He’d held back the eye rolls when Rivet had told him about how perfect and beautiful it was. But even though Eddie didn’t believe a word of it, Rivet’s intensity got into Eddie’s guts, to use Rivet’s terminology. Rivet’s belief in what he was saying was so sincere, it held Eddie captivated. The idea that someone in their day and age still believed in fairy tales was refreshing. And what the hell, if Eddie’s life was coming to an end anyway, Eddie couldn’t see any problem tagging along. If he wound up dead in the gutter of some alley, the result wouldn’t be much different than what he’d planned at his uncle’s.

They were enjoying—in Eddie’s case more so merely experiencing—a drink of water that was not only tepid, but a dingy brown color, and nothing like the soft blue, demineralized water Eddie was used to, in a kitchen that was no bigger than Eddie’s closet. They’d been silent while Eddie mused and Rivet puttered about, first clearing space off a questionably stable chair for Eddie to sit, then rinsing glasses Rivet had taken directly from the pile of what had to be dirty dishes from the chipped, worn countertop. Rivet was standing, Eddie sitting, and when Eddie’s introspection grew overwhelming, Eddie finally broke the silence.

“Let’s say this island exists—”

Rivet looked up, narrowed his eyes, and Eddie lifted both hands in surrender. “Yes. Okay. The island does exist. So how in hell has it not been found?”

“It has,” Rivet said simply.

Eddie smoothed his left eyebrow as though to soothe an advancing headache, granting himself enough time to close both eyes and roll them in hidden peace. “By anyone important,” Eddie explained. “How come it hasn’t been found by anyone dangerous? Why hasn’t someone just gone in and burned it to the ground? They’ve been chasing Estranged for years, locking them up in hospitals or care centers or prisons, or wherever the hell they’re putting them, and keeping them away from the general population because they’re oh so dangerous and oh so volatile.”

A look of amusement lit Rivet’s face and it set every one of Eddie’s nerves on edge. “I’ve seen it,” Eddie said. “So don’t try and tell me they don’t. I had a friend taken right out of his own home. There are security details on damn near every street corner and monitors and scanners keeping track of—”

“And who’s watching the monitors, Eddie?”

Rivet’s voice was so calm and unconcerned that the headache Eddie had been feigning started to tighten into an actual one. “I’m not sure I’m following your question, Rivet. The government is.”

“Government? You mean the illusion of the democracy that used to run the modern world?”

“Okay, fine. Security is. The big bad men with their charged immobilizers and their hidden faces are.”

The kitchen counter protested with a groan as Rivet leaned against it. He watched Eddie over the fingerprint smudged glass as he took a sip from it. “Eddie, you seem like a fairly bright young man. You speak well, you use the right words, and you have that arrogant know-it-all frown that suggests your mind has been packed tight with a lot of useless education. So answer me this, and feel free to use any of that education that you might decide to. What is the fastest and easiest way to ensure the compliancy of a group of people?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Military action.”

“Military action without cause only results in civil unrest. Civil unrest leads to rebellion. Rebellion becomes war. Our officials are no fools, Eddie. They’ve learned from the mistakes of the past, or so they think. Go deeper. Down into your guts. What about your parents, your teachers; anyone who has played the role of superior being in your life? How did they control you? Think hard.”

Eddie tilted his head. “The risk of punishment?”

“You’re on the right track, but you’re still just guessing. Your professors would be horrified.” Rivet considered. “On second thought, let me give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you were not, in fact, taught the proper philosophy or a given a decent history lesson. It wouldn’t be the first time our men in power have warped that which we know into that which they think we ought to.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “Fear, Eddie. The easiest way to control the populace is through fear. Make them afraid, and then insist that I am the only one that can keep them safe.”

“And the best way to do that would be to hunt up all the Estranged, and that includes your island—”

Rivet shook his head, dismissing Eddie with a hand wave. “Now you’re overthinking. If you are afraid, Eddie, the government doesn’t need to hunt down a damn thing. You will bring it to them. Think of it like this: if I tell you that something’s happened to parrots and they’re dropping deadly acid s**t, if I can prove it with some credible examples and images and testimonies, do you really think that I’m going to have to send out men to collect parrots? I’m going to get a call from every single person that even thinks they’ve seen one. I’m going to have people bringing in pet parrots that they’ve had for years, begging me to take their precious little Polly off their hands for them. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“You hate birds?”

Rivet chuckled. “No. But I can make you hate them. Given the right set of witnesses and a couple of planned encounters where I expose just how awful this deadly s**t really is, if I make you afraid of them—”

“Okay, I get it. Fear breeds compliance. But that doesn’t explain why the people haven’t insisted this place be found. If we use your analogy, a nest of parrots wouldn’t be safe anywhere.”

“Unless…” Rivet waved his finger, a feral grin growing on his face. “Let’s say that it’s not every parrot, Eddie. Let’s say it’s only one or two in every hundred. And let’s take it one step further and say that the ninety-eight parrots that are left are doing everything in their power to try and control these one or two rogue siblings. Then, let’s even say that of these one or two, a good percentage of them drop dead or fly themselves into windows because the acid s**t is eating them alive from the inside out. So, not only is my parrot problem not nearly the catastrophe I’ve made it out to be, but the problem that does exist is being controlled without me having to do much about it.”

“But—”

“Let me finish. Being brave doesn’t mean a damn thing if you don’t have the brains to go with it. Understand the bridge you are getting ready to walk across so that when it starts to sway, you don’t panic.”

Eddie slumped back in the chair and rolled his eyes. “Fine, then.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I just won’t say anything.”

“Fair and good,” Rivet nodded. “Now let me bring you back to your monitors. Because, now that I’ve already got you scared to death over parrots, I’m going to make you feel better about the potential disaster that they could cause. And how am I going to do that? I’m going to tell you that I’m watching for them, day in, day out, morning and night. I’m going to put out sentries to watch for these birds and I’m going to install monitors and screening devices. When you look up in the street and you see those bright little lights flickering and those screens dancing with jiggles and wiggles, you’re going to breathe easy and content from the knowledge that I’ve got everything under control.”

It was only after the kitchen had silenced for a good ten-count that Eddie dared to speak again. “Let me guess the story from here.”

Rivet waved, and Eddie sat up straighter in the chair. “Because you already know the issue isn’t nearly as dire as you’ve made it out to be, you don’t necessarily have to watch every monitor or chase every bird. You just have to create an—”

“Illusion,” Rivet whispered. He wiggled his fingers, and suddenly, as though from the air itself, a coin rested between his pointer and his middle finger. “Nothing more than a magic trick. In the same way they made you fear the problem, they have made you believe they are controlling the problem. It only takes one computer to manage a thousand monitors. One server to manage a thousand computers. And it only takes one man to manage a thousand servers. Those numbers become exponential when none of those steps have to be managed to any significant degree of accuracy.”

Rivet lowered his voice. “Look around, Eddie. There are more people living on the street than there are in homes. There are folks waiting in lines for hours for nothing more than plain nutrition loaves and fortified water. Government is funded by taxes. Taxes are paid by people with jobs. Do you really believe our government can afford the technology and the firepower it says it has?”

“But the security details? I mean, they catch people all the time. I’ve seen them. And I don’t just mean the Estranged. I mean plain old bad guys. Crazies. Killers. Thieves. They’re catching these people in the act.”

Rivet shrugged. “How many, Eddie? I mean, think about it. Just how many folks do they have to catch if they make a big enough deal about the few that they do? You’ve heard the thoughts of many strange minds; you know what people are capable of. How many of those things that you experience end up on the Tele-Feed?”

“So an entire island…”

“Housing an entire flock of problem parrots…”

“Are, in essence, self-managing a problem the government can’t afford to manage by segregating themselves…”

Rivet smiled. “And removing the problem from the public eye at the same time.”

“So, it’s not a problem at all, is it?” Eddie snorted a low laugh. “I mean, not really.”

“Not yet,” Rivet agreed. “When it becomes one that will be a different story. Or, of course, when the technology to find a cost-effective way to deal with the issue becomes a reality. For now, Exile, the myth, will continue to be just that because the people are content with the idea that the government wouldn’t allow such a place to exist.”

“And you say that it does exist.”

“Eddie,” Rivet located his drink and then lifted it in a salute. “I damn well know it does.” He emptied the glass and set it back down. “So, what do you think?”

“I think I’d have to see it to believe it,” Eddie said.

Rivet grinned. “Follow me, will you?”

The only garage Eddie had ever seen had been on a tour of the city’s transportation services way back in the days of first school. That garage had been bright, clean, and full of blinking electronics guarded by a couple of guys in uniforms. The garage Rivet had led him to was, in stark contrast, lit by a single bulb, housed things that scurried into dark corners when the two of them entered, and was so poorly constructed that the fading light of outdoor skies could be seen peeking through the walls in more than a few places.

The building was full—floor to ceiling in some spots—of items that Eddie thought were junk on first sight. When he realized what he was seeing was mostly metal, actual true to the word metal, he understood that Rivet was sitting on a goldmine.

“Damn, Rivet,” Eddie breathed, his eyes wandering over the collection of parts, pieces, and tools. “You’ve got a f*****g fortune here!”

Rivet smiled. “You bet I do. But not the way you’re seeing it.”

“So, I’m not seeing hundreds of thousands of credits worth of metal in front of me?” Eddie stroked a long run of pipe No way it could be actual iron. No way. “This junk is worth its weight in gold.” He touched a bright, smooth circle with spokes. Aluminum; sure as f**k it was aluminum. “Literally.”

“I couldn’t care less for their value in credits,” Rivet replied. He walked down an aisle created between lengths of formed steel; lengths that were reminiscent of quarters and pieces of vehicles. Except, if asked, Eddie couldn’t have sworn they were parts of vehicles at all, because he’d never in his life seen a vehicle as long or as wide as these things would make them.

Rivet waved Eddie towards him. “You look at this and you, like most, see a pile of scrap. I don’t. I see puzzles that were thought out by earlier, smarter men who forged the metal, cut the steel, and placed the wires and the parts. These things don’t belong in the hands of Refab shops so they can be pulled apart, stripped, melted down, and redesigned into something useless. These parts have a life of their own. They have a purpose. There is something they were created to do and as long as I have my say…” He stopped and gave Eddie a serious look. “And I do have a say, no matter what our officials tell us about our responsibility to this f*****g country.” His face softened. “So as long as I have my say, that is exactly what these things will be used for. Their purpose.”

Eddie scratched his cheek and eyed an engine the size of a small table. “Nothing personal, Rivet. But you’d have a hell of a time explaining anything created from these parts if you tried to take it out on the grid.”

“f**k the grid,” Rivet said, his tone more pleasant than his statement. He reached out and grasped a blanket that crinkled and crackled under his fingers as if it were made of old-world plastic.

Eddie stepped closer, intrigued, and his eyes widened as the covering fell away. Plastic blankets be damned, the thing underneath it was way, way more interesting. “What is it?” Eddie whispered. He didn’t even get embarrassed when he realized that he sounded like a four-year old seeing snow fall for the first time.

The machine beneath Rivet’s palm looked like some kind of physical health equipment, complete with pedals, a long seat, and hand rests. But there was an engine of some sort bound to it, and a large cylinder that had to be a kind of tank. Two thick tires with wide treads held it off the ground, and a long pipe, surely an exhaust, jutted out of the back of it.

“It was once a motorcycle,” Rivet said. He patted one of the hand rests, smiling at his contraption. “Now it’s part motorcycle, part bicycle, part train.” He lifted his gaze, his face shiny with pride. “I call it a Power Rider.”

Eddie recalled pictures and info sheets from days long past, and came up with a concept that had him suspicious. “Don’t tell me this thing runs on fossil fuel. They’d throw your ass in confinement over running something like that.”

Rivet snorted. “Of course not. How in the hell would someone like me afford fossil fuel? It has a steam engine.” He waved one hand, as if flapping away an errant thought. “Kind of. I mean, it has the idea of a steam engine.” He tapped the metal cylinder Eddie had assumed to be a tank. “Water goes here.”

“Steam engines still use fossil fuel. Or at the very least wood. Which means you still have emissions that would get—”

“Less talk, more listen,” Rivet said. “This engine runs off heat, yes. But the heat is generated through friction.” He pointed down at the pedals. “Of course, friction wouldn’t cause enough heat on its own, so I’ve added a kinetic cell to enhance the power.”

“Which just fell into your possession magically?” Eddie asked.

Rivet grinned. “Absolutely. When you believe in magic, magic happens. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

“So this cell you stole…” Eddie stopped, pretended to correct himself, “I mean, found…”

Rivet nodded. “Exactly. Is the thing that turns something improbable into possible. And if you don’t mind doing some pedaling, I can get you where you need to go.”

“And you said this place was where again?”

“South,” Rivet said. “And east.”

“I see.” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Rivet. “That could mean just about anywhere. So how far away is it?”

Once again Rivet shrugged. “About twelve hours by cab.”

Eddie nodded at the Power Rider. “I’m not thinking that thing is going to go quite as fast as a cab.”

“Bah.” Rivet pulled on the machine, and it moved surprisingly smoothly considering it looked as though it weighed a ton. “Two days. Three, tops. Besides, we won’t be on the grids. This thing can off-road like nobody’s business.”

“Off what?” Eddie asked, not convinced in the least. Pedaling, at the best of times, was something he could manage for maybe an hour. Not forty-some hours.

Rivet rolled his eyes. “Never mind, you’ll see what I mean soon enough. Just believe we can do it. After all, that’s kind of the point.” He stared at Eddie hard. “Do you believe? I mean honestly, completely believe. Because I’m not running you across the country if you don’t.”

Eddie frowned and huffed air from his nostrils, showing more confidence than he felt. “Sure. Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Rivet didn’t move from where he stood. “Because you won’t make it if you don’t.”

Eddie threw both hands in the air. “I believe, okay? I believe, I believe! What the hell do you want me to say? Should I sign something in blood to prove my words? Agree to pass over my firstborn? Get down on my knees and pledge my soul to the gods of Exile?”

Rivet offered him a half smile and threw one leg over the seat of his machine. “Probably. But I’ll let them tell you that when you get there.” He patted the seat behind him with one hand, and flicked a switch on the hand rest with the other. “Get on.”