“Study abroad, she said. See the world, she said. Fucking Renfair, she said.”
Myra Delfontaine hefted her backpack, walking down the ramp from the cargo ship. It was the only transport she had found around the Americas from Providence to San Francisco. This soon after the nations establishing contact, there was still very little contact and connection between them – in some cases, for the better.
Myra raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glaring sunlight. San Francisco had been rebuilt after the Trollocaust and the Great Powergame out of white marble and shining steel, though the beautiful aesthetics of the city – many villas, in Old Mexican style, were visible – were rapidly morphing into mass-produced housing. The rebirth of the suburbs, as it were.
Myra looked around studying the docks. There weren’t many ships tied up – she saw four vessels sitting in the harbor, all cargo ships. Faintly, the coast guard corvette that had waved her transport in was cruising back near the entrance to San Francisco Bay. The Golden Gate Bridge, somehow having survived all the disasters afflicting the world in the centuries since it was built, now gleamed and glowed with modern engineering upgrades.
Why Renfair? Myra thought, still seething.
Why not Yamato, or at the very least the Caribbean Federation? Anywhere but Renfair!
She ignored the sailors working madly around her and took a glance about the streets. People walked to and fro, dressed in the usual mixes of street and formal attire for a national capital in an emerging union of provinces. Faintly, there was a band playing
music Myra thought sounded vaguely Hawai’ian, like the long-dead Kingdom was reaching through time.
But no one with a sign asking for Myra Delfontaine.
“Great,” Myra growled. “Great start.”
She took another look at the paper she’d received from the Passport Board in Providence.
Meet with Mr. Felsten on Pier 19 in San Francisco when your ship arrives. He will be waiting for you. Following that, of course, was a whole mess of other information about her accommodations, but nothing that mattered at the moment.
Myra ran a hand through her raven-black hair.
Why me? This is a disaster!“Excuse me,” Myra asked a woman at a small table, shuffling papers. The woman looked up. “Can you help me?”
“I’m with Immigration, dear,” the woman said, adjusting her spectacles. “What do you need?”
“I’m looking for a Mr. Felsten, from-” Myra checked the paper. “Housing Institute Eight?”
“Eight was shut down this morning, dearie,” the woman replied. “T19 violation. What you need to do is go to City Hall, three blocks north of here, and tell Ms. Aslenger that you need temporary accommodations. She’ll walk you through getting placed in a government Housing Institute, as opposed to a private one.”
“Thank you,” Myra said. She was about to ask what a T19 violation was when a man pushed her out of the way, asking something about how he could get his family from Malta to join him in San Francisco.
Myra turned and started walking through the streets, eyes wandering all across the city around her. She stopped at a viewing booth and took a look at the Golden Gate Bridge through the telescope.
Never thought I’d see it, she thought.
“Hey, you!” a man called. Myra turned to see what looked like a policeman advancing on her. “You from New England?”
“Ah, yes,” Myra admitted. The policeman spat.
“New England women. Think you own everything. Why do you think you’ve got the right to just walk on into Renfair, huh?”
“I just came to study,” Myra protested, taking a step back. The policeman growled.
“Likely story. You’re here ‘cause you want to abuse our laws to satisfy your own twisted delusions of superiority, ain’t you?”
“Oh, leave her alone, Howe.”
Another man, this one blond and blue-eyed, had appeared behind the policeman. He was dressed much more casually, in shorts and a T-shirt, but was eyeing the policeman with the air of a stern father. The policeman pointed at Myra, very threateningly.
“She’s a tyrannical bitch from the land of tyrannical bitches! Mark my words, not a man in this land is safe from them!”
“Go on, Howe,” the newcomer chuckled. “You been demonstrating for the kids at church lately? Forgot to take your costume off, I see.”
“I
will make the Force one of these days!” Howe declared. Myra blinked in surprise.
“Not with that jingoistic of an attitude, you won’t,” the blond man supplied cheerfully. “Run along now and hit the bars if you know what’s good for you.”
“If you were
one step further related from her . . . .” Howe growled. Blond laughed.
“But I’m not, am I? This is my cousin, too, who’s back to finish her education after years in New England. Isn’t that right, cuz?”
“Oh, yes,” Myra replied instantly, seizing the chance. “Totally. Yes.”
Howe growled. “I’m not fooled for a minute, Jack Holt. But because I’m not in the mood to shove your face up your cute little butt . . . .” he turned and walked away.
“Ah, thanks,” Myra said. Blond chuckled.
“Don’t mention it. Howe’s an ass. He wants to be a cop, but he hates New England, and since we’re building up our friendship with your homeland, I doubt that attitude’s going to get him far. Name’s Jack, by the way. Jack Holt.”
“I’m Myra Delfontaine,” Myra replied.
“So, Myra,” Jack asked. “What are you doing this fine morning?”
“Right now? On my way to City Hall to try and get some housing arrangement settled.” Myra sighed. “Turns out the place I was coming to was closed down this morning for a ‘T19’ violation.”
“Oh, man, a T19,” Jack nodded. “That’s some pretty bad stuff. Thank whatever God you believe in that it got closed down
before you got there. That would have been really bad.”
“What is a T19?” Myra demanded. Jack grimaced.
“Well, a T9 is ignoring safewords. A T19 is repeated ignorance of safewords by management officials of an establishment. Way I heard it, if you’re talking about Felsten’s place, there was also some T32 – coercion and lack of consent. Who wanted to send you there?”
Myra shivered. “My aunt. My parents died when I was very young, so I had to live with my aunt all my life. She always hated my half of the family, and doted on her triplet daughters over me. She got me through school and bundled me off to here as soon as possible.”
Jack nodded. “And right now?”
“Right now, I’m going to go find a government housing institution to stay in,” Myra sighed. “With no money. All I’ve got is some New England Dollars.”
“Those exchange well,” Jack assured her. “But I wouldn’t recommend a government place. They’re overcrowded as it is until the suburbs really start going up.”
“Then where would I live?” Myra demanded. A sudden suspicion flared in her mind.
Sure enough, Jack fidgeted. “Well, I hate to sound like I’m trying to pick you up, but you could come stay with me. ON MY HONOR, I mean that solely as I said it.”
Myra bit her lip. “I . . . don’t know what to say. Forgive me for being a little suspicious.”
“I don’t blame you, really,” Jack agreed. “And you can go get a government housing section if you want, but I really think that until the suburbs go up you’d be much happier sharing a house with me and my sister.”
“Your sister?” Myra frowned.
Why is it that living with him alone is bad, but it’s much more palatable if his sister is there?“Yeah, Jessica. She’s an official – that’s how I know about the T32 violation. She was talking about it earlier today before I decided to wander out for a bite.”
Myra sighed. “Alright, Jack. If you’re sure that the government housing wouldn’t be a good idea, I’ll stay with you.”
“Alright,” Jack said, smiling. “What about your luggage?”
“This
is my luggage,” Myra said, patting her backpack. “Just a single change of clothes, some food, a guidebook to Renfair and the four
Last Prophecy novels.”
“Originals?”
“Yeah, my aunt was a huge fan. I took these from her library while she was asleep to get my revenge.” Myra grinned. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, my sister is going to
love you,” Jack said, shaking his head.
-L