Copyright © 2013 Elder Adok. First novel in the Buffalo Future series. First published in Great Britain in April 2013 by Hiss Farm Concepts www.hissfarmconcepts.co.uk office@hissfarmconcepts.co.uk Second edition September 2013. This blog chapter edition May 2015. The moral right of Elder Adok to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act of 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
'The snake is not evil, it is crafty,' thought George. Being in security suited him down to the ground. His feline instinct to stalk was immensely rewarded, yet there was a cost. Security personnel were not supposed to get involved with Inflow members. The snake logo and motto 'Be crafty not evil' were reminders to value neutrality. Nevertheless what harm would there be in closer observation of Io?
He would invite her out. It would have to be on some pretext because no doubt George was being observed too. But where and how? George was by nature passive; others were his stimuli. Oh yes, he appeared active and his stealth prowess had been noted by his seniors. Yet at moments like this he found it difficult to marshal an argument and even more difficult to make a decision. It bugged him.
Io had formidable power over George. She presented the challenge; she puzzled him; how could she be so innocent and yet not naïve? Whiter than snow, or a mirage of clear water in his parched desert? They were poles apart in temperament; what bound them was restlessness. Io was disturbed by her role at Inflow, and George was disturbed by Io.
Io had had enough after a busy day's work and took a lift down to the bronchs station at the base of the Fish. She changed into her cycling gear and was soon in the warm exit branch travelling under the moat to emerge into the fading autumn light. She banked left along the Cut-off Channel and underneath the railway. As she gained speed her body warmed up so that it felt comfortable reaching the cooler air of the mainline bronch at Hiss Farm, and then running south west parallel to the trains. It wasn't too busy; she switched on her lights and was soon lost in thought, unwinding at her normal cruising speed of 22mph.
George had to peddle hard to catch up with Io; her silhouette was now in sight as the bronch crossed the Lark river. He wouldn't have much time because in a few minutes the branch to Ely would take her away from him. Io first noticed George as a distracting combination of panting and thudding. Sweat was pouring off his face.
"What's the rush? Just enjoy the ride".
He struggled to respond. She slowed a little to cool down ready for Ely. They cycled in silence but the thudding annoyed her.
"Your tyre has a bald patch".
He laughed.
"What's so funny?"
He took a big breath.
"Your blond hair is a trailing hazard".
She reached up and felt around the back of her helmet but no golden locks had escaped. He laughed again.
He took a big breath.
"Your blond hair is a trailing hazard".
She reached up and felt around the back of her helmet but no golden locks had escaped. He laughed again.
"Touché. By the way, I'm Io; we haven't met before have we?"
"No", he lied.
He had met her in his dreams; the tropical moonlight haunted him. Somehow George felt embarrassed in pretending ignorance.
"I'm George. Are you from these parts?", he asked tamely.
He had met her in his dreams; the tropical moonlight haunted him. Somehow George felt embarrassed in pretending ignorance.
"I'm George. Are you from these parts?", he asked tamely.
"Not originally. Inflow invited me to join them after discovering some of my beaches. For some reason they displayed 'design integrity' because the scenes were so natural yet every part led to more information. Anyway I was invited over for an interview and some teamwork tests, and then given a starting share at the Fish. What do you do?"
"I'm in liability management; we analyse systems to find any weak links and then ..."
Io was irritated and suspicious.
"Go on with you! How long have you worked for security?"
George went through the routine he had learnt in training. He deliberately misheard 'in securities' rather than 'for security'.
Io was irritated and suspicious.
"Go on with you! How long have you worked for security?"
George went through the routine he had learnt in training. He deliberately misheard 'in securities' rather than 'for security'.
"Oh no, not securities, although that's part of it. I'm in risk management".
Io could see through the rhetoric but thought it wise not to push her luck.
"Oh, I see".
Io could see through the rhetoric but thought it wise not to push her luck.
"Oh, I see".
It had rained for weeks so the Great Ouse river was full; a few fields were flooded. The bronch dipped from the railway line down to the north bank of the swollen river. The Ely junction appeared and Io moved into the slip lane.
"See you again sometime, George".
"See you again sometime, George".
He cycled on angry that a conversation that had begun so promisingly and naturally had ended in silence. But Io's parting shot was generous and gave him hope. He increased his pace and arrived at his Cambridge home dripping with sweat, exhausted, and vowing next time to take the train between home and Ely. He would see her again, and on brand new tyres.
~
"Hey, Blondie, how come you're so fit?"
Io was cycling in her bright purple and green striped suit and George had let her begin to overtake him. Inflow tracking had told him via his buddy when she would be on the Ely branch before joining the Cam bronch towards Lakenheath and the Fish. Her image on his visor's map allowed him to cycle slightly ahead of her, but slow enough to be caught. It was a week after their first meeting. She responded well to his teasing greeting; in fact the banter gave her freedom to skirt around him, to find out what made him tick. The river was still full as they cycled over it and up the gradual incline to run beside the railway line.
Io was cycling in her bright purple and green striped suit and George had let her begin to overtake him. Inflow tracking had told him via his buddy when she would be on the Ely branch before joining the Cam bronch towards Lakenheath and the Fish. Her image on his visor's map allowed him to cycle slightly ahead of her, but slow enough to be caught. It was a week after their first meeting. She responded well to his teasing greeting; in fact the banter gave her freedom to skirt around him, to find out what made him tick. The river was still full as they cycled over it and up the gradual incline to run beside the railway line.
"If you call me Blondie, I shall call you Georgie Porgie. How come you're not panting like last time?"
He was pleased she noticed and replied in an off-hand manner.
"Oh, that's because I caught the train from home to Ely, otherwise 30 miles is a bit far even inside a bronch".
He was pleased she noticed and replied in an off-hand manner.
"Oh, that's because I caught the train from home to Ely, otherwise 30 miles is a bit far even inside a bronch".
He amused her. They cycled together at a slightly slower pace - more breath for conversation.
"What have you been up to this past week, apart from getting new tyres?"
"What have you been up to this past week, apart from getting new tyres?"
George had anticipated the question. How could he admit to watching her, to collecting as much security information as possible from confidential backups? He had toyed with an alibi but knew she could see through him. The pause was just about to be broken by Io, who wondered if he had heard her properly.
"When we last met, why did you think I worked for security?"
"When we last met, why did you think I worked for security?"
Although coming straight to the point Io was gracious in her manner.
"Well, you try too hard. What I mean is that you can tell by your manner, by your bearing. Then when you pretend otherwise it makes it even more obvious".
She did not want to run George down; after all he might be able to help her sort out some of her puzzles. The trouble with working at Inflow was that you were always on the inside. One of her reasons for travelling by bronch rather than train was to have time to think. The trains, although much faster, were almost an extension of the Fish. George might be a useful inside outsider!
"Well, you try too hard. What I mean is that you can tell by your manner, by your bearing. Then when you pretend otherwise it makes it even more obvious".
She did not want to run George down; after all he might be able to help her sort out some of her puzzles. The trouble with working at Inflow was that you were always on the inside. One of her reasons for travelling by bronch rather than train was to have time to think. The trains, although much faster, were almost an extension of the Fish. George might be a useful inside outsider!
The bronchs had the great advantage of being clear all around so the autumn colours could be savoured. After the Ely bend the section running parallel to the railway was straight for miles until Lakenheath and the Fish. Wheels spun; legs and arms pulled and pushed rhythmically. The breeze intermingled with conversation; hearts pumped oxygen riches to muscle and mind. Quick wits, humour, and energy whirled around exploring new vistas of spirit, of life, of adventure. Their souls made the banks of a stream which flowed not with water but with words, pictures, ideas, and mystery. There was some chemistry between them.
The communications jellyfish iridescent on Fenland horizon was now rearing above, dominating the sky. The human soul was reduced to bee-like proportions in this hive driven by a hungry world desperate for the honey of information; for what? … for why? She found herself squeezed by the atmosphere; he felt at home. They had agreed to meet again.
Io slowed her pace at Hiss Farm as they entered the cool inward bronch running beneath the security moat into the heart of the Fish; George kept up his speed to get there first, and took a shower. She appreciated the simple but effective cooling design for cyclists as she parked her bike, detached her bag, hooked her helmet, and the purple and green outfit over the handlebars; she pushed a button and all was whisked away into a secure rack. A lift took her to the 59th floor; Io yawned to balance the air pressure in her ears and stepped out into her workspace for another pointless day.
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