Read Online REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) by D. L. Denham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D. L. Denham
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the boy repeated his slogan. No one except Reho and Gibson stood in attendance. The boy never looked at them. He wore a round, black cap that reminded Reho of one he’d seen in an OldWorld film. The boy also wore beady goggles made of bronze and wrapped around his head with a leather strap. His shorts and short-sleeved shirt revealed black ash covered skin that aged the boy, causing him to resemble a stifled old man rather than a youth.
“Reho, look here,” Gibson said as he gazed at two metal posters bolted to the wall of the building near the kid.
Each poster supported a different color and tone. The one to their right was created to resemble how everything looked in the city, its colors industrial, while the other carried the same tone as the billboard the boy wore.
“Rivals,” Gibson said. “Political differences can be intense in some of these communities.”
Painted on the crude copper was the name of the leader of one party, Sir Leighton. Written beneath was a promise to control industrial growth and place greater restrictions on coal burning. It also had the slogan Monet not Decay . Part of the painting on the boy’s billboard was also painted in the background. At the bottom on the poster, it gave a command and then asked a single question: Look around! Is technology beautiful?
The other poster contained only a name, the political party and a statement: Father Hugo, Industrialist , and Steam is Life . There were no colors, just the crude copper that the black words had been painted on.
***
They passed few people on the streets as they continued farther into town.
“Things seem worst than the last time I was here,” Gibson said. “That was maybe three years ago.”
They kept walking. Reho looked at the vehicles parked on the street, waiting for one to roar to life and drive down the road. He had stopped and knocked the ash off several of them. Underneath they were modified OldWorld cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Bulky, crude steam engines had replaced their gasolines. While their trunks had been converted to boilers.
A trio of young boys exited an apartment and descended a set of steps to the street below. They stopped when they noticed Reho and Gibson. The boys wore identical shorts and jackets. One wore gloves and a pair of compact goggles with black lenses. As they passed, the one with the goggles stopped and looked at Reho.
“Sir, where do you come from?”
“We are from Usona,” Reho replied. For a boy of seven or eight, his English was impeccable, with an accent that seemed to belong to another generation.
One of the other boys looked at Gibson. “Are you participating in the elections? It is the talk of the town these days.”
“No,” Gibson replied. “We’re here just selling some wares, my lad.” He mimicked the boy as best he could, but it came off sounding insulting.
“Brilliant! ” The young boy was excited, and his two companions were now interested in the strangers, as well.
Gibson waved them off. “No, not brilliant, kid. What we are selling wouldn’t interest you.”
“Like what?” one asked.
“Women’s clothing,” Gibson said, “and funny little umbrellas.” He spanned his arms out as though he was going to grab one of them, sending the giggling kids scurrying away.
“What?” Gibson asked, seeing Reho’s shocked expression. “If we can’t have a little fun, then it sucks to be alive.”
***
It was sunset when Reho and Gibson returned to the docks.
A dog with two legs caught their eye as it wheeled across the road near the pier. Its back legs had been replaced with two wheels, emitting a faded red glow as they turned. A wispy line of steam trailed behind the altered mutt.
“Oh God! These people have gone too far,” Gibson said. “We need to get away from the coast before they attach a pair of copper balls onto us.” Gibson laughed at his own joke, a sick, nervous chuckle that suggested to Reho that he might somehow believe there was a
“Reho, look here,” Gibson said as he gazed at two metal posters bolted to the wall of the building near the kid.
Each poster supported a different color and tone. The one to their right was created to resemble how everything looked in the city, its colors industrial, while the other carried the same tone as the billboard the boy wore.
“Rivals,” Gibson said. “Political differences can be intense in some of these communities.”
Painted on the crude copper was the name of the leader of one party, Sir Leighton. Written beneath was a promise to control industrial growth and place greater restrictions on coal burning. It also had the slogan Monet not Decay . Part of the painting on the boy’s billboard was also painted in the background. At the bottom on the poster, it gave a command and then asked a single question: Look around! Is technology beautiful?
The other poster contained only a name, the political party and a statement: Father Hugo, Industrialist , and Steam is Life . There were no colors, just the crude copper that the black words had been painted on.
***
They passed few people on the streets as they continued farther into town.
“Things seem worst than the last time I was here,” Gibson said. “That was maybe three years ago.”
They kept walking. Reho looked at the vehicles parked on the street, waiting for one to roar to life and drive down the road. He had stopped and knocked the ash off several of them. Underneath they were modified OldWorld cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Bulky, crude steam engines had replaced their gasolines. While their trunks had been converted to boilers.
A trio of young boys exited an apartment and descended a set of steps to the street below. They stopped when they noticed Reho and Gibson. The boys wore identical shorts and jackets. One wore gloves and a pair of compact goggles with black lenses. As they passed, the one with the goggles stopped and looked at Reho.
“Sir, where do you come from?”
“We are from Usona,” Reho replied. For a boy of seven or eight, his English was impeccable, with an accent that seemed to belong to another generation.
One of the other boys looked at Gibson. “Are you participating in the elections? It is the talk of the town these days.”
“No,” Gibson replied. “We’re here just selling some wares, my lad.” He mimicked the boy as best he could, but it came off sounding insulting.
“Brilliant! ” The young boy was excited, and his two companions were now interested in the strangers, as well.
Gibson waved them off. “No, not brilliant, kid. What we are selling wouldn’t interest you.”
“Like what?” one asked.
“Women’s clothing,” Gibson said, “and funny little umbrellas.” He spanned his arms out as though he was going to grab one of them, sending the giggling kids scurrying away.
“What?” Gibson asked, seeing Reho’s shocked expression. “If we can’t have a little fun, then it sucks to be alive.”
***
It was sunset when Reho and Gibson returned to the docks.
A dog with two legs caught their eye as it wheeled across the road near the pier. Its back legs had been replaced with two wheels, emitting a faded red glow as they turned. A wispy line of steam trailed behind the altered mutt.
“Oh God! These people have gone too far,” Gibson said. “We need to get away from the coast before they attach a pair of copper balls onto us.” Gibson laughed at his own joke, a sick, nervous chuckle that suggested to Reho that he might somehow believe there was a
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