New America Read online

  No, the gold tubing encircling me was nearly twice the width it had been. It had expanded, or I had—

  I looked up. The ceiling seemed much farther away. The rings that had been at head and chest level were now above me. The one before me, I realized, had originally been at shin level.

  I had shrunken.

  “Please take another deep breath, Mr. Smith.”

  I did so and closed my eyes. That tickling again, that thinning, only this time it continued for much longer. In fact, it didn’t end. I tried opening my eyes but couldn’t. My entire body, every nerve, seemed frozen.

  Panic built inside me, shucking up my lungs.

  This was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

  Then I was spinning, falling into nothingness.

  Day 1

  I was in a large, black, cold space. I lay on my back. I couldn’t see a ceiling or walls. For a moment I thought I must be outside, below the night sky. But there were no stars, no moon. And the blackness was too black, perfect in its uniformity. So I had to be inside, the lights off, in total darkness—only this wasn’t right either. Because I could see. If something appeared before me, I would be able to see it. I don’t know how I knew this, but I was confident it was the case. I simply couldn’t see anything because there was nothing to see. I was in some kind of…what?

  I had no bloody idea.

  I tried to stand—and yes! There were my legs, my arms. I was right, I could see them as if it were day, pale appendages against a black background.

  I was naked. Why was I naked—?

  Oh Jesus Mary Christ. We did it, Maureen and I, we miniaturized. Yet where was I now? I had read all the literature regarding miniaturizing, read all the reviews, and I never heard of waking in an endless void. Had something gone wrong then? Instead of miniaturizing to the size of a cricket, had I shrunken much more? Was this blackness the space between subatomic particles?

  Fear drummed in my chest. I began to walk, though it wasn’t really walking. My legs were moving, but there was nothing beneath my feet, no reference points to judge the passing of distance.

  Where was everybody? Where was Maureen? Why was I here?

  How was I going to leave?

  Were scientists studying me right now? Was I on a petri dish beneath an ultra high-resolution electron microscope, so tiny not even light could reach me?

  The fear was no longer only in my chest. It coursed through my body, from the tips of my fingers to my toes.

  No, not fear exactly. Dread. Despair. Because something had gone horribly wrong, I was sure of that now, and I was going to be trapped like this for the rest of my life. Trapped in space. No food, no water. Which meant the rest of my life would not be very long. A few days at most.

  I waved my hands over my head, hoping to catch the attention of whomever was watching. Yet this was silly. They either knew what happened to me or they didn’t. They were either watching me or they weren’t.

  I lowered my arms and looked around.

  Blackness.

  Nothingness.

  I was alone, utterly alone—

  ☼

  I woke in a hospital bed. My first thought was, “They did it! They restored me to my original size!” Then the dream reality faded, and I realized I had never been one pictometer tall. It had been a dream, just a dream.

  A holographic doctor materialized next to the bed. “Good morning, Mr. Smith,” he said pleasantly. He had almond eyes, a short nose, a freshly shaven jaw, and neatly combed hair. He wore a white coat but no stethoscope around his neck. His hands were at his sides, empty. “My name is Dr. Matsui. How are you feeling?”

  “Morning?” I said, scratching my head. But that would be right, wouldn’t it? After the last of the miniaturizations for the day, the two thousand or so of us would have been put on a plane and transferred to the Arizona desert, where New America had been constructed. We would have then been distributed to different hospitals throughout NLA to be checked over. This would all have taken a number of hours. “Fine,” I added. “Tired.”

  The doctor nodded understandingly. “Nothing a good rest at home won’t cure.”

  “Where’s my wife?”

  “She didn’t make the trip, I’m afraid.”

  I blinked. “Didn’t make the trip? What the hell does that mean?”

  “She decided not to proceed with the miniaturization.”

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “I don’t have the answer to that. You will have to ask her yourself.”

  Holy hell! Maureen didn’t come? She didn’t come? I lifted the sheet covering me and saw I was still naked. “Where are my clothes?”

  The doctor gestured to the wall opposite the bed. A section of it opened to reveal a closet full of garments and shoes. “Take what you need,” he said. “You can shop for more personalized attire whenever you feel up to it.”

  I stalked across the room. Despite knowing the doctor was a hologram, I nevertheless felt self-conscious in front of him. “Do you mind?” I snapped.

  “Goodbye, Mr. Smith,” he said. “I hope you find New America to be everything you hoped it would be.”

  When I glanced back, he was gone.

  ☼

  I stepped out the hospital’s front doors onto a boulevard lined with trees and parked cars. Despite knowing that New Cities were exact replicas of their bigger brothers and sisters, only on a much smaller scale, I was nevertheless blown away by the reality of the sight before me. Everything was…real…and I took a moment to absorb it all.

  A silver car hummed past me. Someone inside stuck their head out the window and shouted, “Newbie!”

  I was so surprised all I could do was stare dumbly after the vehicle. I was wondering how the person knew I had just arrived—but it was obvious, wasn’t it? A guy standing outside a hospital, looking around as if he were from a different planet.

  I started walking, wanting to get away from the hospital, wanting to blend in. I became acutely aware of the air on my skin. It felt…thick…I guess you would say. This was nothing to worry about. It was due to my small size, and people said you stopped noticing after a few days.

  I crossed an intersection, passed a large pharmacy, and came to a bus stop. There were two benches, one blue, one green. The green one sported a weathered advertisement for the hospital I’d just exited. The microsensors embedded in it misinterpreted my mood and changed the advertisement to a virtual dating service.

  A trashcan stood next to the bench. Curious, I pushed open the flap and peered inside. The bin was about half full with rubbish that smelled like spoiled food left in the sun.

  No flies buzzed around it.

  I turned the way I’d come, to see if any buses were approaching. I spotted a taxicab instead, which I flagged. It eased smoothly next to the curb, the front door slid open, and I got in.

  “Destination, please,” the synthesized voice said.

  “3900 Dwiggins Street,” I said.

  ☼

  New America was a classless and moneyless society advocating the values of universal liberty, equality, justice, peace, and cooperation. The only social distinction among New People was one’s housing, which functioned on a first come first serve basis. Basically, when you miniaturized and moved to a New City you had to take whatever tier one housing was available. However, the longer you were a New Person, the more seniority you accumulated, which you could use to move into more upscale homes in tier two or tier three neighborhoods, or even different cities depending on what vacancies became available. The average waiting time for a first move was somewhere around eighteen months.

  Maureen and I hadn’t cared much about which house we chose. We were both from Boston, Yankees at heart, and like she told John and Wendy Sexton, we were planning on moving to NY2 at the first opportunity. We settled on the house on Dwiggins, which was located high in the hills of East NLA, because it was within walking distance to a Shoplex and had a decent-sized backyard. Maureen had a green thumb, and n
ow that she didn’t have to work, she planned on spending her days gardening to her heart’s content.

  The doctor’s words returned to me then: She decided not to proceed with the miniaturization. Gritting my teeth, I tried not to dwell on this. There was an explanation why she backed out. Had to be. She would never simply abandon me.

  The taxi pulled into the driveway of my new home, stopping before the two-door garage. The house was two stories, light gray, with fat white trim around the large windows. Tidy or bland, take your pick. The front lawn could use a drink as the grass had turned brown in places.

  “You have arrived at your destination,” the synthesized voice said.

  I turned to thank the driver, but of course there was no driver.

  I got out and watched the taxi reverse from the driveway and tool away down the street. Then something on the front lawn caught my eye. Insects. Several dozen hovered above a variety of flowers. This should be impossible as the only animal life in New America was human. Frowning, I went closer. The swarm immediately lifted into the air and sped away—and I realized they weren’t insects; they were nanobots functioning as artificial pollinators due to the lack of honey bees.

  I climbed the three steps to the front stoop and waited. I was scanned, and the door slid open. I entered a narrow hallway. The overhead lights turned on, cool air hissed through the ventilation system, and “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong began to play over hidden speakers. While setting up my home profile, I had configured the song to play when I entered—a surprise for Maureen.

  “End music,” I said.

  The music ceased. Silence reigned, deep and somehow foreign.

  The dark gray walls and black slate floor changed to white and yellow respectively, though this did little to cheer me up. I wandered aimlessly from room to room, registering each with little more than idle curiosity, before stepping into the backyard. The view over NLA was impressive, though I barely noticed. I couldn’t get my mind off Maureen. She wouldn’t have anything but the clothes on her back and whatever money she had in her purse. Whatever we had left after the bankruptcy, which wasn’t much, we had either donated to charity or tossed out in the days leading up to yesterday’s scheduled miniaturization. This meant there was only one place Maureen could have gone: her parents. They lived twenty minutes from where we used to, or little more than a half hour drive to Boston’s New World Complex.

  Nevertheless, I debated whether to call her there or not. Because why should it fall upon me to get in touch? She was responsible for this mess. She should be the one calling here.

  Also, deep down, I wasn’t sure I was ready to speak to her yet. I felt not only angry but humiliated, like I was the butt of the cruelest “you go first and I’ll be right behind you” gag ever. There would be no way she could tell I was only half an inch tall on her holographic wall screen, but I would know, she would know, her eavesdropping parents would know. How could they see me as an equal? Take me seriously?

  Deciding to let Maureen stew for a while, I was about to return inside, maybe head out to the Shoplex, when someone said, “Hey, there!”

  I shaded my eyes with my hand. A man wearing sunglasses stood on the other side of the wooden property fence to my left.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Steve.”

  I went over and shook. “Bob,” I said.

  Steve appeared to be in his mid-forties. He sported a buzz cut and a graying beard. His skin was brown from the sun, almost leathery. “Guess you’re the new neighbor, huh?”

  “Just arrived today,” I said.

  “Was wondering when someone was going to move into your place.”

  “Was one of the last ones available in this area code.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “It’s what they told me.”

  Steve waved dismissively. “Government’s full of it. They say we’re at, what, eighty percent occupancy now? Bullshit. More like sixty.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t got no proof or nothing, but all you gotta do is take a spin around town. You’ll see all the empty houses.”

  “Why would the government make up numbers?”

  “Marketing, I s’pose. Nobody wants to eat in an empty restaurant, you know what I’m saying? Besides, it’s not like it’s not going to fill up. I got here five years ago. City only a few months old then. You could walk downtown naked and not see a soul. Same time the following year, different story. Now—hell, now it almost feels like the real place. Most people would never notice the empty houses. But I spent half my life in the army. I see things other folks miss. I’m not bragging or nothing, just telling it how it is.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open,” I said.

  He glanced past me, to the house. “Say—you come by yourself?”

  “I, no, well, yes.”

  “You come with someone or not, man?”

  “My wife was supposed to come with me. Apparently she decided not to at the last moment.”

  Steve’s eyebrows lifted. “Decided not to?”

  I shrugged. “All I know is I miniaturized, and when I woke up the doctor told me she decided not to come. I haven’t spoken with her yet so I really don’t know what happened.”

  “Sheesh.” He scratched his head. “Never heard of that happening before. Bet you feel a bit stupid now, huh?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I said brusquely because I had the sense Steve was trying not to laugh at my situation. “How about you?” I said to change the topic. “You married?”

  “Sure am. Twenty-six years. Got a daughter too.”

  “Do you speak with her much?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Ah, you think she’s back in the old country. Nah. She’s here with us. Was twenty-one when we miniaturized and said she wanted to join us. We didn’t pressure her or nothing. It was her call. She’s an artist, a painter, see? That’s what she does all day. Paints. Was never one for school, dropped out of college. Wasn’t interested in getting a job and working at something she hated all her life neither. So here she is.”

  I nodded but didn’t say anything. There was an ongoing debate to raise the age limit of miniaturizing to twenty-five or even thirty. I was for this. After all, miniaturizing wasn’t drinking. It was permanent. Did a twenty-one-year-old kid really know what was best for them at that age?

  “So how you finding it here?” I asked.

  Steve shrugged with his lips. “I like it. The wife and daughter do too. Some things take getting used to. But, yeah, we like it.”

  I was going to ask him what took getting used to when he added, “Say, why don’t I throw you a bar-b-que tonight, Bob? I’ll invite some of the guys over. I know how the first few days and even weeks can be. Give you a chance to get to know some folks, pick their brains if you want.”

  “I, well—yes, sure,” I said, thinking the last thing I wanted to do was sit around my empty house tonight, alone. “That wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

  “Not at all. Let’s say seven?”

  “Should I bring anything?”

  “This is New America, Bob-o,” he said. “We got everything we need, don’t we?”

  ☼

  After speaking with Steve I ditched my plans to find the Shoplex. I felt sluggish and unmotivated and went to the upstairs bedroom instead and passed out on the bed. When I woke the blinds were drawn, indicating it was night out. I panicked, thinking I had slept through the entire evening, and the bar-b-que Steve had organized for me, but the clock on the wall read quarter to seven.

  Relieved, I freshened up in the bathroom, had a sonic shower, then put back on the self-cleaning clothes the hospital had provided. Despite what Steve had said about having everything you needed in New America, I would have liked to have brought a bottle of wine over…or maybe a six-pack of beer, as Steve seemed to be more of a beer guy.

  Neverthele
ss, I didn’t want to be late, so I left the house empty handed and cut across the lawn to Steve’s front door. I was scanned and announced to those inside. A few moments later the door slid open to reveal a mature redhead clad in a dress with bold stripes. In her youth she had probably been the cute girl next door, though the years had hardened her features and padded her frame. Even so, her green-blue eyes were lively and welcoming.

  “You must be Bob!” she said.

  “And you must be…sorry, Steve never told me your name.”

  “Carly. Carly Woods. Come on in. Come meet everyone.”

  I followed her through the house, which was much more lived in than mine. My pulse quickened, and I realized I was nervous. I hadn’t been to a social gathering for some time; I was out of practice. Maureen and I had largely kept to ourselves after our daughter’s death.

  We stepped through a doorway to the backyard.

  When Steve had mentioned he was going to invite “the guys” over, I imagined he meant his male friends, so I was surprised to find two women sitting at a patio table with him.

  “Bob-o,” he said, standing. He wore a green cap now and held a bottle of beer in his hand. “Good to see you, buddy. Jane, Rachel, this is the new neighbor I told you about.”

  The women stood and shook hands with me. Jane was tall and drop-dead gorgeous with long-lashed electric green eyes and a mountain of brown curly hair. Rachel was petite and thin, with brown eyes and straight brown hair. She wore little makeup and her face was bland, though she was oddly attractive in a puckish way.

  “My, Steve,” Jane said, not taking her eyes off me, “you never said you had such a handsome neighbor.”

  “Cool your jets, Jane,” Steve said. “I told you, he’s married.”

  “I’m simply being friendly, Steve,” she said. Then to me: “Congratulations on your marriage, Bob. It’s a rare thing these days.”

  “Maureen and I are a bit old fashioned,” I said.

  Carly said, “Steve mentioned your wife—Maureen—she didn’t come with you? Have you gotten in touch with her yet?”