Dirigible (part 83)

The story so far.

She never realized how much her knowledge and recognition of the other members of her cause depended on the local net. She has no idea how to begin to go about contacting any of them without giving herself away, short of walking up to them in physical person and revealing her identity.

Even that could be dangerous–news ripples across the net at the speed of light, cascading through her head even as she wades deeper into the flood–but she has a bigger problem.

She has no idea where any of them are.

Dirigible (part 82)

The story so far.

Patrishia nods, and shakes Ariste’s hand, and heads off toward the city. By the time she’s gone five steps, the arktoi has vanished.

Patrishia exhales and starts walking again. Before long she starts picking up the local net. It’s accessible from outside the city’s cloud, of course, but only with conscious effort: one of the filters that keeps everyone everywhere from being constantly overwhelmed.

She feels overwhelmed enough already.

She’s tempted to search for news–of herself, of Melinda, of her people–but doing that would defeat the purpose of the mask. She’ll have to settle for passive scanning.

She keeps walking, hoping for something relevant to catch her attention.

Dirigible (part 81)

The story so far.

Ariste escorts her back to the outer edge of Seattle’s net. It’s about the same distance as where she met Ariste before, but in a different location. “Just in case,” Ariste says.

Sure.

“Well, this is as far as I go,” Ariste says, when they reach a spot in the forest that looks just like any other to Patrishia. She’s mostly seen this country from the air. From height, all the trees look pretty much the same.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I’m not picking up the local cloud cover, at all.”

“Remember what the maskmaker said. Your perceptions in that area will be a bit dull. Don’t worry, you’ll adapt.”

Dirigible (part 80)

The story so far.

The process is surprisingly quick. Her perceptions are a little dulled, like the information isn’t coming in quite fast enough. Her immediate environment, though–colors, shapes, sounds, smells–is more vivid.

“Might feel like walking under water at first,” the man says. “Give yourself a little time to adjust. Then, you can just walk right in to wherever you need to go.”

“What if I’m detected?” Patrishia asks.

“Try not to be,” the man says. “I told you, it won’t stand up to severe scrutiny. But it’ll get you there, if you’re reasonably cautious and don’t piss anyone off.”

This does not fill Patrishia with confidence.

But at least she can shed the disguise easily, when the time comes.

Dirigible (part 79)

The story so far.

“I need to be able to identify myself to my people,” Patrishia says, cautiously. Something about this man bothers her. Ariste is looking a little uncomfortable, and that makes Patrishia uncomfortable, too.

“Not the makeover, then,” the man says. “Sounds like a basic mask to me. Won’t stand up to severe scrutiny, but passive surveys will slide right off it. And you can reveal your true ID to whoever you choose, easily.”

“Okay,” Patrishia says. Amazing how long she’s been doing this and has never dealt with this kind of thing before. They always preferred to hide in plain sight, instead of messing with maskmakers.

Dirigible (part 78)

The story so far.

Patrishia can’t argue that point. Her walk through the wilderness was one of the quietest times she’s ever experienced. So different from where she came from.

“I understand you can help me get into the city and reach my people,” she says.

“So brisk and efficient,” he murmurs. “What’s the rush?”

“She just spent several weeks walking the outback,” Ariste pointed out. “Her people probably think she’s dead now. And she needs news.”

“The arktoi is hasty,” the man says. “But yes, I can help. What’ll it be? A blank, so that the datastream slides right off you? A basic mask–less protection, but more info. Or do you want a full persona makeover?”

Dirigible (part 77)

The story so far.

At the end of the corridor, a set of steps leads down. They descend to a sealed door, which Ariste opens, leading Patrishia into a well-lit room with a red carpet and several chairs. An older man with a salt-and-pepper beard and–could those be spectacles?–is sitting in one of the larger, more comfortable-looking chairs in the corner.

He does not speak until Ariste seals the door again.

“We keep quiet and underground to avoid being overheard.”

“You’re out in the middle of nowhere,” Patrishia points out.

“You’d be amazed how far sound carries, out here. The world’s quieter than it used to be.”

Dirigible (part 76)

The story so far.

Though the door has a latch and swings on hinges, it’s utterly silent. And that’s one thing Patrishia has noticed since they arrived here: just how quiet it is.

Inside is a large room with a broad window that lets in daylight and gives a view of the outside. Patrishia touches the glass. It doesn’t give at all under her fingers. Amazing that it’s still unbroken; those old windows used to shatter into innumerable pieces.

“This way,” Ariste says quietly, and leads her toward a dark, narrow corridor.

Dirigible (part 75)

The story so far.

Patrishia turns to Ariste. “What is this?”

Ariste looks a little embarrassed. “An illegal settlement. Totally off-grid and off-net.”

“So there’s no Cloud connection, then?”

“Did I say that?” Now Ariste looks amused. “It’s amazing how many ways there are not to be found. And who better to arrange something like that than a maskmaker?”

They climb a short, shallow flight of wooden stairs and walk across a wooden deck, which is covered in a camouflage pattern and in which holes have been interspersed to allow trees to grow through, providing some cover. Ariste leads her to one of the buildings. It has a roof covered in moss and ferns and grass. From the air, it would look like the ground.

“Here we are,” Ariste says, and pushes open the door.

Dirigible (part 74)

The story so far.

It’s amazing how much the wilderness has taken back in a relatively short amount of time. Patrishia didn’t even notice the remnants when she came this way before. But there are still bits and pieces of the former suburb, including a road not far from the way-station that’s still walkable albeit buckled and broken by tree roots.

They turn off the road and wind their way through more trees, coming at last to a small complex of wooden structures that look as though they ought to have degraded faster than everything else.

Instead, they look brand new.