2150_The Bridge

Some of you may know that I drafted a second novel this past November. The book is science fiction, predicting the state of our world in the year 2150. I haven't yet started revisions, partly because I've been busy, and partly because I'm afraid of what it's going to look like. However, I believe that "The Bridge" turned out quite a bit better than my first novel "Kingdom Quest". I am considering actually readying this novel for eventual publication.

No one has read any of the book yet (except for me), but I've decided to post portions of it here. Let me know what you think. If there are any particular criticisms or comments, feel free to post them or to contact me some other way and let me know. I appreciate your attention.

Chapter 1

“And if you’ll look right over here, you’ll see some of our new concepts for water. We’ve created a few different chemical fusions, some of which might be more satisfying and less expensive than our current H2O…” The tour guide moved on, carefully pointing out and explaining a few points he had written on a 3x5 card in his hand. “This here,” he said, looking up at Warren, “is our beeeeeeep……..beeeeeeeep……beeeeeeeep…”

Warren sat up in bed in a cold sweat. The nightmares had been coming more and more frequently lately. They were becoming more and more realistic, too, and just a little too close to home for him. Trying to clear his mind, he pushed the small round button on the wall to start the espresso maker in the kitchen, and then dropped his feet over the edge of the bed, sliding them into his well-placed slippers.

This morning was one that Warren had been looking forward to for weeks. The Bridge was almost finished, and today was one of the final days of work before its grand opening. Warren had spent almost all of his adult life working on the Bridge, like his father before him. It was called “the grand accomplishment of the age” by every news station and politician in the world. That was sort of funny, Warren thought, because originally the idea had been met with a lot of alarm and opposition. It seemed that most of the population had now warmed to the idea, however.

After breakfast, Warren quickly finished getting dressed, ran a comb through his thick brown hair, and hurried to the tunnel. He didn’t want to miss anything by being late. As he lay down in the tube and shot underground, his ears were met with the calm and welcoming music of some of the 22^nd century’s best artists: Barton, Farendale, Wendelstein. Most of the population had come to adopt these composers as part of their daily life, spending a little time each day with them as their music echoed through each family’s tunnel. Of course, there was also the option of turning on the news during the morning route, but few listened to that stuff anymore. It seemed to be all bad, and who wanted to go around with a frown on his face while the world was such an exciting place to live?

It was hard to remember a day when the Bridge had not loomed over the earth, hiding such a vast amount of terra in shadow. The shadow was a necessary evil, but was combated by the Nu-Sun lights that had been installed on the underside of the superlevel. The original idea for the Bridge belonged to an inventor who was born in the late part of the 21^st century. He escaped narrowly the government’s attempts at depopulating portions of the earth in order to allow the natural resources of the earth to replenish themselves. This inventor was of the old Chinese gene, one which had long been eradicated, although some small traces of the populace still existed. Old China was where the building of the Bridge had begun. It had started as a way to create room for more forests and large vegetative gardens, and had eventually become what Warren now saw before him: A whole new layer of world, a superstructure that loomed high above his head, blocking his view of a gray sky above.

The Bridge provided almost an entire earth to populate once again, and even larger than before. Its weight was not a problem either, for it was composed of a lightweight but amazingly strong metal called graphene, which had been proven to be about 200 times stronger than steel. The weight that was added was balanced out by the dirt that had been removed to make room for the tunnels. That dirt was put into the storage cells that floated nearby the space station. It would be used to surface the Bridge, to provide a way for the new plants and trees to grow.

Now that overpopulation was no longer a worry, the world government had turned its attention to bringing to the earth a peaceful unity yet unknown to man. Many attempts had been made to achieve unity in the past, through treaties and truces that never seemed to hold. War after war had taken place, until the earth was ravaged and hopeless. However, the new government had ideas, radical ideas, to raise up a new race of one mind and body, similar to Hitler’s attempts with the Arian race in the 1940’s. That was ancient history by now, and many had forgotten the sad end to that attempt. A great portion of the world was now behind the government, and no one was for their plan as much as Warren was.

As he arrived at one of the last few building sites, Warren donned his helmet and zipped his jacket. The steady breeze was refreshing at first, but Warren had the experience to know that it would soon turn cold, chapping his lips and cramping his muscles. One of the main problems that was now being discovered about the Bridge was that it blocked much of the sun’s heat, and so led to cold summers, even colder winters, and deficits in vitamin D and in energy. The Nu-Suns had helped some with this problem, but they still didn’t quite make up for what was lost. Short sleeves were no longer worn on the bottom level. Sandals were a thing of the past.

As he flipped the switch on his welding torch, the Nu-Sun light high over Warren’s head flickered. He saw the flash out of the corner of his eye, and a look of horror crossed his face. Blackouts were rare in this area, a section of old-europe that used to house the largest power grid on earth. Such a setback could be disasterous. Warren called down to the nearest captain. “Sir!” he yelled, “We have a problem here! It looks as if the power is…”

“I’m on it, Freud! Get back to work!”

It would be Bradley, Warren thought. He cared little for anyone but himself, and he was the only captain who had adopted the rookie’s nickname. What a frustration. Against his better judgment, Warren got back to welding. He knew that his responsibility was simply to alert a captain to any irregularities at the building site, and that he had already done that. However, he also knew that Bradley wouldn’t hesitate to blame him if something went wrong. There was nothing that could be done, though. He couldn’t afford to stop working and risk losing this job. It was his livelihood, the only thing he had ever been trained for. He had often wondered what would happen when the Bridge was complete. Would he be out in the cold?

Suddenly, it happened. Darkness flooded over Warren, and a cold wind blew over his face. Lights could be seen in the distance, the closest being about a quarter-mile away. Warren heard shouts coming from above and beneath him, as men and women cried out frustrations from their respective positions. There was little any of them could do, as all of the torches, tools, and scaffolds ran on electricity. Warren himself sighed and sat down on his portion of the scaffold, resting his still-warm torch next to him. He listened to two of the workers on the scaffold to the left of him as they continued a conversation they had obviously been engaged in while working. They were talking in whispers, and that fact alone piqued his interest.

“Did you ask him what he thought about you working down here?” a male voice quietly inquired, “Did he give you any suggestions?”

“No,” a woman replied, in a harsh and urgent whisper. “It’s so quiet now. We should continue this conversation later.”

In the semi-darkness, Warren saw the man lift his hand. “Look around. No one is near enough to hear. Let me know what’s happening.” Warren had a sudden urge to duck, to lay down on the scaffolding and out of sight, so that he could continue to listen to the conversation in secrecy, and so that he wouldn’t embarrass the man and woman when they suddenly realized that he could hear every word they said. Before he moved, however, the woman spoke again.

“There’s really very little to tell. He told me to continue work, and simply live it out. He didn’t want me telling anyone or explaining why I do what I do, but just to keep doing it. Probably the same thing he’s told you. The same as he’s told all of us. Anyway, why are you asking? Didn’t you have the exact conversation with him that I did, and just a week before? Why are you asking me?” There was a long pause. Warren dared only breath quietly. He listened for the man’s reply. When it came, he was shocked to hear a break in the voice. As if the man was… crying.