9
Amity Station, Haven Fit Room
TREVOR LOST TRACK OF the distance after his first ten kilometers. He intended to push on until he cramped or Andreas interrupted his privacy. After he hopped onto the run bank, Trevor thought of nothing – not the job, not his family, not Shireena, not the Enzathi. He wore shorts, shoes, and drenching sweat. His ear beads played drifting opera at top volume. A needed reprieve? Or was he hiding?
The latter he ruled out, given the Fit Room’s three levels and hundred or so active machines. From the lobby to the change room, everyone greeted him with a quick nod and courteous “Governor.”
Yet no one bothered him on the exercise floor. This place wasn’t designed for social engagement or networking. Everyone needed the Fit Room while living in soft artificial gravity.
All residents knew the etiquette:
Tend to your needs; leave others alone.
Hiding? No. Escaping? Damn right.
But why push his heart and lungs to their limit? In his prime, Trevor could maintain this pace for two hours. It only felt impressive until Connor boasted of three.
Everything was a competition in those days. Trevor was making his mark as a young deputy, so teenage Connor decided to build a different reputation. He bulked up on phasic weights, started in-sector athletic competitions, and ran twenty kilometers a day.
Grandfather encouraged Connor, showing vids of himself as a fourteen-year-old muscular monster wearing the crimson body armor of the Unification Guard. Back then, there was still enough brontinium extract to enhance a Chancellor’s full genetic capability. Though circumstance changed, Max led his grandson to believe he could do it anyway.
Connor got there in time. He took pride in a beautiful body, even if he reminded non-Chancellors of a past they’d rather forget.
“Never apologize for who you are, bruv.”
How many times did Connor say that when Trevor dug himself into deeper holes? Or opened his mouth at the wrong time and to the wrong person?
Wasn’t the real problem that Trevor learned the wrong lesson? What was wrong with the occasional apology? Were cooperation and compromise such bad things?
You wouldn’t recognize me today, C.
Trevor closed his eyes and imagined a conversation with his brother, returning in the gray and blue of the UNF, also a new man.
Do you like being Governor? Connor might ask.
Most days. It’s a better fit every time I sit behind the desk.
Connor would logically ask why.
I can make a difference now. Amity’s a safer place to live.
Any perks?
There’s the dining room. The private suite. The office isn’t surrounded by glass. I have privacy.
No, Connor would surely insist. I’m talking real perks!
What do you mean?
C’mon, bruv. You’re in charge. Tell me you love the power.
I suppose I do. I make decisions, and people listen. They have to obey my instructions. I’m on a first name basis with the President of the Collectorate.
Those things are sweet, for sure. But there’s more to it.
What do you mean?
It’s the air you breathe, T. Smells different, doesn’t it? Like you’re standing on a mountaintop, looking down at the world. Grandfather said that’s what it used to be like for our caste.
Yeah. I suppose he was right. I understand why people with real power don’t want to give it up. Just this morning, I was willing to ruin a man’s life to keep the office for myself. I don’t regret it.
Because you earned it, Trev. You were always meant to own that office. It was Grandfather’s dream.
Not for me. You were always his favorite.
You’re the one who needed to look after people. You hated when I didn’t follow the rules. You’re a natural administrator.
Maybe. One time, I testified before Congress on the station’s preparedness level. I was a mess when I sat down. But soon as I started talking? I had them eating out of my hand. I sold them on my leadership and my policies.
You’re a rising star, bruv. Someday, you could be President.
You’re wrong. I’m a fraud. It’s just a matter of time until they see through me.
What’s to see? You’re a good man making the tough choices.
I’m covering up crimes. I’m bending regulations. I fired the Executive Board; they were the only check on my power. I ordered Shadow Gambit profiles on everyone who enters the station. And all the while, I’m walking around with an alien lifeform inside me. I don’t know its plans. It could be the biggest threat to the station. If the public knew, they’d turn on me in an instant.
No worries, bruv. Resign the office and join me in the UNF. See the stars. It’s the best life.
