The Complete Atopia Chronicles

10



AT FIRST I’D wandered through the empty streets of New York. In desperation I’d taken the New York Passenger Cannon, operating perfectly to timetable but yet empty of passengers, to San Francisco. Arrival there had just made things worse, however, as it was as empty as New York.

For the first few days, I’d tried to remember the deactivation gesture that Kenny had tried to show me, the hardwired failsafe, but I hadn’t been paying attention. What was that sequence, what was the motion? Walking around, I pulled and scraped at my chest, twisting and turning and muttering random words, hoping one of them would be the deactivation sequence. But nothing happened.

With a mounting sense of horror, I began to realize that perhaps I was the only person left, the last person on Earth, or at least the last person on whatever version of the Earth I had led myself onto.

I stopped at the end of the pier at Fisherman’s’ Wharf. This place was usually packed with tourists, but of course it was desolately empty.

Opening my purse I stared at the pack of cigarettes inside. It had become endless. No matter how many cigarettes I took from it, the next time I opened my purse, it was full again. I’d even tried throwing it away in a fit of frustration, but then there it was again the next time I felt an urge coming on. Shaking my head, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

I’d explored everywhere, tried everything. I didn’t need to bring any luggage with me for traveling as I could just pick up clothes, any clothes I wanted, right off the racks.

Restaurants were always open. At first I tried going into buffets, and row upon row of fresh, steaming food would always be waiting for me. After a little while I’d discovered that if I had an urge for anything, I could just go into a restaurant, and magically the meal I wanted would be there, ready for me to sit down and eat alone.

All of the mediaworlds were still broadcasting, but the news was filled with stories about families, about happy reunions and lost children newly found. I often spent my afternoons sitting alone in cinemas and watching endless reruns of old romance films.

Something had to be wrong with the pssi system. Weren’t the smarticles supposed to wash out of my system by themselves eventually? Somebody out there would figure it out, somebody would save me, and then just as suddenly as it had started, it would be over.

Perhaps I’d been upset with everyone, angry at the world, but I wasn’t anymore. I just desperately wanted to see someone, anyone, it didn’t matter. I’d become beyond terrified of being alone.

But still, nobody appeared.