Logan’s ionic wind lifter was good for short hops but impractical for longer journeys. The ultra-modern flying machine used high voltage batteries to energize an emitter electrode and a grill shaped collector electrode. The result was a corona discharge—air molecules near the emitter were ionized into a plasma of charged particles. As the electrified ions streamed toward the collector, the momentum transfer created a steady ionic wind, silent airflow with no combustion, no propellers, and no exhaust. His thrust came from electricity accelerating air, but his range was severely limited by the capacity of the batteries because the electronics used quite a bit of juice.
Logan settled into the pilot chair and fastened his seatbelt. His personal aircraft had no fuselage around its single seat. It was open air. He rose up from the power station and used two levers to control his flight, one for the elevators on the tail section that regulated lift and descent, the other for the rudder that controlled direction. The machine’s lightweight frame and long wings had minimal air drag. It was visible from a distance due to the luminous corona discharge occurring behind Logan’s seat, and if he lost power, the craft became a glider that he could safely land.
He wore a helmet with a visor and a jacket for insect and bird protection. It was another blazing hot day, and he accelerated the wind lifter until it reached maximum speed to stay cool in his heavy outfit. The craft wasn’t equipped with an altimeter, so he wasn’t sure how high off the ground he was.
Logan followed the freeway into the heart of the Big Abandonado. The highway was severely debilitated. The repair crews were long gone, and it was littered with massive potholes and debris fields. Few passenger vehicles traveled the once busy thoroughfare, but legions of automated trucks still used the route to transport merchandise and commodities to the New Cali Directorate from points north. The trucks used tough synthetic materials in lieu of rubber tires on their wheels. Graphene composites created ultra-strong flexible treads that stood up to the abuse encountered on the roadway. The invincible wheel coverings made it difficult for hijackers to stop the automated transports as well.
The trucks used hydrogen gas for fuel. Latsko’s alkaline electrolysis plant was the only place left to buy it for hundreds of miles in the parched desert. He’d built the hydrogen plant before the collapse, at the freeway interchange just to the west of the abandoned hotel district. The scores of resort properties along the Strip were for the most part still standing, but in abject disrepair, and partially buried in drifts of windblown desert dust. The government was defunct. No police force patrolled the forsaken city.
The wind lifter’s charge had fallen to 70% by the time Logan landed inside Latsko’s compound, less than five miles from the power station. He was greeted on the short airstrip by a security guard, Hana Yamaguchi. She wore body armor with tall boots and a helmet and carried a pistol in a holster.
Yamaguchi lifted her helmet’s darkly tinted visor to speak as she approached. “Good afternoon, Mr. Writt. Mr. Latsko is expecting you.”
Latsko’s residence and office were on the top floor of a nine-story building at the center of the compound. He’d grown wealthy with his hydrogen gas ventures, and he owned a ranch in the mountains as well, though he spent the lion’s share of his time at the plant overseeing the business. The lower floors of the tower held administration and security offices, residential apartments for his workers, and a laboratory. Four separate electrolysis plants in low concrete buildings sat to the north of the tower, and a network of pipelines and metering stations led to a multiplex of giant H gas storage tanks. The fueling depot where the automated transports pulled in to have their tanks filled was at the edge of the compound, with its own fortified fencing and separate security station.
Yamaguchi accompanied Logan to the tower’s entrance. Inside, another guard rose from his watch post by the door to salute her. She held a senior rank in the security force hierarchy. Yamaguchi climbed aboard the elevator car with Logan to escort him. The ride was swift and smooth, and a few moments later, the gate opened on the top floor, and the pair entered a windowless vestibule. Yamaguchi keyed a wall mounted intercom: “Mr. Latsko?”
“Yes, Hana,” came a quick response.
“Mr. Logan Writt here to see you, sir.”
A hidden panel silently slid open revealing a spacious penthouse office. Yamaguchi held her hand out, and Logan walked through the opening. Then she turned and walked back towards the elevator car as the panel abruptly slid shut.
Latsko sat behind a broad desk with a synthetic marble top. He was an older man with graying hair and Slavic facial features, an ethnic Czech. “So, how did it go?”
“Success, Stanislav.” Logan took a seat in one of the synthetic leather armchairs casually arranged in front of the desk. “Everything went according to plan. Jody took control of the branch line with zero resistance.”
“Tremendous news, my friend. How long before I see water in the city infrastructure?”
“Possibly within days, a week at the longest.”
“In the nick of time, Logan. With the vanishing flow from the aquifer, we’ve already had to cut back on production. I was afraid I was about to lose the transport business.” Latsko picked up the glass that sat before him and took a sip. “A glass of brandy? It’s Slivovice. Top shelf, imported from Prague.”
“Why yes. That sounds excellent.”
“Franz,” he called out. “Bring the bottle of brandy and another glass.”
A humanoid robot appeared. It walked into the room carrying a tray. The replicant stopped in front of Logan, poured a serving of liquor into a fancy crystal glass and handed it to him. Then the robot turned towards Latsko. “Would you like me to prepare snacks, sir?”
“Logan? Are you hungry?”
“Thanks, but Harmony made me a huge lunch.”
“I had a substantial noontime meal as well.” He clapped his hands twice. “All right. That will do it, Franz. Leave the bottle and return to your chores.”
“Very good, sir.” The replicant gently set the bottle on Latsko’s desk and walked off.
“Let’s retire to the living room.”
Logan followed Latsko into an elegantly furnished sunken room with high-coffered ceilings. They settled into plush chairs with their drinks. Latsko clicked on the sound system and selected a fully orchestrated rendition of Stravinsky’s Petrushka. Floor to ceiling fixed glass provided a view of the abandoned hotels and casinos on the Strip. The debilitated condition of the former resorts created an eerie backdrop. The glass in some of the buildings was gone, others showed signs of fire.
Logan took a sip of the liquor. “That’s tasty stuff.”
“A fine brandy indeed.” Latsko lit a cigarette. “To be honest, Logan, I’m a bit worried about becoming too dependent on your appropriated water.”
“I’m confident Jody can keep their system outfoxed.”
“Well, I’m not a cyber expert, and I’ll take your word for it, but to me the danger of detection seems more in how far word of your scheme travels.”
“So far, you and Myles and Harmony are the only people I’ve let in on it.”
“And you’re planning on keeping it that way? Or will you provide water to others?”
“Jody says reinjecting water into the aquifer will keep the wells from completely drying up, so small-scale users will see a reinvigorated supply. And there aren’t many left.”
“The only people in my operation with knowledge of the scheme will be the technicians in the electrolysis plants…And they’re all thoroughly vetted and trustworthy.” Latsko looked towards the nightmare scene on the Strip silently, and then back towards Logan and gazed at him eye-to-eye. “How do you feel about the moral implications of your enterprise?”
“The moral implications?”
“Yes. You’re stealing water and I’m receiving your stolen goods.”
“Shutting off the branch line was unfair.”
“So, you imagine yourself as a Robin Hood character. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor…Except I’m not quite poor, am I?” He held out his hands and grinned. “Look at what I have here. I’m a wealthy man and the water you provide my business enterprise will only serve to improve my bottom line.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “I grew up in this city and so did Myles and Harmony. The tyrants in New Cali deprived us of our fair share of the river. According to the original agreement our ancestors made, we have a right to a portion of it. And what we’re taking now is a drop in the bucket compared to what’s still flowing to the Directorate.
Latsko was impressed by the heartfelt indignation he’d triggered. His admiration for Logan was obvious. “All right, Logan. I’ll endorse your moral justification as expressed. I asked you the question to establish a sense of order and human decency. Though our fair city has devolved into anarchy, we must never forget what makes us civilized men.”
“I’ll agree with you on that much, Stanislav.” He enjoyed conversing with Latsko, having a taste of his fine liquor and listening to his symphony orchestra music. When their meeting was concluded, Yamaguchi returned to the penthouse level to escort him back to the landing strip.