A Vision of Our Near Future

Enjoy this short excerpt from my second novel "From Here to There - The Descent 2020-2035."

Chapter 1

A Scandinavian Welcome

As I slowly rose to consciousness the unfamiliar sound of clanging bells caused me to momentarily forget where I was. The ringing of the nearby clock tower seemed to continue forever. I rolled over towards the sound and became aware of a figure staring at me. Slowly the outline of a seated woman came into focus. Her head full of curly dark brown hair and strong shoulders were visible beneath her loose fitting shirt. We were so unalike. I found myself drawn into her questioning gaze, a look which was all too familiar to me.

She slowly raised a mug to her face and stopped as steam curled up from her mug. Her full lips rested along the edge of the rim. Those eyes could drill into you like a torpedo through butter and they were aimed right at me.

“Wondered when you were finally going to wake up.” she spoke aloud.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked letting my eyes adjust to the bright light streaming through the tall windows.

The woman made a quick calculation. “Going on 20 hours now. And from the looks of you, you needed every minute of it.”

“Thank you for picking me up at that hour.”

“Well it’s what sisters do for one another.”

“I owe you one.” I slowly threw off the down comforter swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat up.  My head began to clear as the blood drain from my foggy head. “I can’t image how people fly all the time.”

“Yea it certainly isn’t what it use to be.

“How come you’re not at work?” I asked.

“Because it is Saturday you dodo-brain. Guess you got your brains a bit scrambled after all.”

I rolled out of bed and into the bathroom to relieve the uncomfortable pressure on my bladder and clean off the grime from the long plane trip.” I closed the door behind me remembering the tendency of the water to splash into the hallway when the shower was turned on. This might frustrate some but I felt differently. The efficient ingenuity of the Danes was unsurpassed. By comparison American homes were so inefficient. Here it was just part of the Scandinavian sensibility. I striped down and stepped under the hot spray of falling water.

As the tension in my body began to unwind my mind drifted back to the unimaginable series of events which has occurred over the past week. Many of the details were still a bit blurry but several scenes came back often and with great clarity.

Sitting in the windowless interrogation room facing the two detectives was the last place I wanted to be. But I also realized that there was no way I could avoid this and the sooner I could put it behind me the better. I could feel the eyes of the small army of police officers, detectives and who knows who else, watching the interview through the large one-way glass window that filled one side of the small “interview” room.

The fact that I had slept in and not gone to work on the morning of the explosion that destroyed the Traffic building was considered suspicious at first. I later learned it was the primary excuse used to bring me in for questioning the first time. I was saved by an uncomfortable but convincing alibi from Ernestine, Steve’s live-in nanny eliminated me as a suspect in the eyes of the detectives. Why would I want to destroy almost everything that was important to me?

This interview was supposedly just to gather information about who I thought might have a reason to do this act of domestic terrorism.

Chief Detective Albert Clouseau looked at me waiting for an answer. Of course I had my thoughts regarding who may have done this. The question for me was how much was I ready to share at this point? After all, both of us could be easily identified attending the same events over the past year or so. If I send them to him it could very easily end up right back on me. Less information was probably the better plan for now.

“Let me ask you this Detective, what do you think would happen to the person or persons who are eventually convicted for this crime, assuming someone is convicted?”

“Miss Woodson, I can guarantee you the perpetrator of this horrible and senseless act will be found and brought to justice. They will be punished to the full extent of the law.”

“I would expect no less Detective. The challenge is that we both know there are a lot of people who are angry these days. Some of them may have a specific grudge as well and knew what to do with their anger. From the results I bet they knew what they were doing.”

Turning to a well-worn assistant, Detective Clouseau spoke. “Check the histories of every person who was working in this building as well as employees for the last 5 years.”

The man typed the task into his note phone as Albert turned back to me. “Thank you for your time Miss Woodson. Please make sure we have all your contact information in case we need to speak again.” He abruptly spun around and walked out of the room followed by several others. The officer who had brought me in piped up. “Please come with me.”

?  ?  ?

My thoughts drifted to a more recent memory during the bus ride to the airport. The bus was only half filled and the majority of the riders were engrossed in a small screen of some sort. I don’t remember making eye contact with anyone other than the elderly driver.

At that time of day the traffic was light. The first body search at the curb was a reminder of the new security procedures. Once into the main terminal I was surprised at how incredibly quiet it was. It had been a while since I last flew and so much had changed. It felt eerie. I saw a man wrapped in a large fur coat surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad assistants must have been one of those You Tube stars. A group of unbelievably tall men all dressed in white and orange sweats passed by me. If I followed professional basketball I am sure some of the faces would have looked familiar.

As I approached the main security area I could have slapped myself. All that high tech equipment has been replaced by one-on-one searches. The less clothing you wore the better. The woman who accompanied me into the booth was totally stone-faced and barked out orders like a drill sergeant. Ah the thrill of flying had disappeared many years ago.

As I approached my gate a platoon of military rushed down the concourse towards baggage claim. It was obvious they were glad to be back home. The on-going troop reductions in many parts of the world generated quite a bit of business for the airlines. Air travel was no longer the choice for the average person.

With greatly reduced travel the once glamorous concourse had devolved into cavernous buildings with stained carpets and lots of banners to cover what was once rows of stores selling almost anything you never wanted or needed.

I was scheduled to fly out on the weekly non-stop flight to Copenhagen Airport the busiest airport in Scandinavia. What I remember from the 10-hour flight was the menu of food items and the wide variety of movie offerings all at a price only the wealthy could afford. Guess it was assumed that if you could afford to fly you could afford a twenty-dollar hamburger. They ran out of free peanuts and pretzels after the first hour so I was glad I packed my own food for the long flight.

The view from 38,000 feet was a birds-eye view of the drought now in its eight year. Flying over the central plains was a mixture of browns and golds as far as the eye could see. I remember the headline last summer, “Oglala Aquifer runs Dry” and “Mississippi Closed for July and August.” Most large farms had been abandoned when even advance water extraction methods failed to save their crops.

The rest of the overnight flight was uneventful until the captain turned on the address system just as the eastern sky began to glow. “God morgen. Vi lander i K?benhavns lufthavn i 30 minutter. Tak til at flyve med os.”

Looks like I have a few minutes to visit the bathroom before we land, I thought.