History of the Galaxy: Blind Punch

Chapter 1

Russia Megacity. 12 November 2197.

Early morning.

The five in-modes, cylindrical capsules three by two meters in size, hung close to the ceiling of a refitted studio apartment, held in the horizontal position by a special electromechanical system.

Outside the vacuum-sealed window, servounits cleaned the building façade, removing a layer of corrosive chemical compounds from the wall. The empty streets of the city were lost in the swirling, sluggishly moving industrial fog. The sun had come up four minutes ago, and its morning rays painted the poisonous emissions the color of ichor.

The information panel beside the window displayed some of the ambient settings:

Temperature: +32 degrees Celsius.

Oxygen level: 17%.

Degree of air pollution from toxic waste: 24%.

Wind speed at city level five: 3 m/sec.

Height of main cloud cover: 1132 meters.

Drizzling acid rain is predicted.

Recommendations of the Global Health System: continue with in-modes.

Technology was in charge of the refitted apartment. The transforming furniture was put away into wall recesses and hidden behind paneling, and had not been used in a long time. The echoing silence was only occasionally disrupted by the beeping of the sensors.

A separate screen displayed Net time, 8:58 AM.

When the individual life support modules were in working mode, most of the current parameters had no practical meaning, only appearing as reference information.

8:59 AM.

The in-modes came alive at the same time. With a quiet whir, the mechanisms lowered the capsules to the level of the floor and turned them upright.

Max Bourne opened his eyes. The sleeping gas had already dispersed but an unpleasant medical smell still tickled his nostrils.

Since some time ago and for no clear reason, he always woke up a little earlier than he was supposed to. Only a minute earlier, but it was enough to witness the transformation of the in-mode and feel the mechanical vibration, hear the clicks of the fixation mechanisms, see the movement of the interior panels and feel the soft belts that held him in place during sleep retracting into their narrow slots. For a second he could feel reality and experience a moment of subconscious anxiety, bordering on inexplicable and unreasonable despair, when the wrenching grief suddenly grabbed him by the throat, suffocating him and then slowly letting go, and leaving a nasty aftertaste for the rest of the day.

9:00 AM.

Dawn blossomed inside the in-mode. The holographic screen turned on and the boundaries of reality instantly expanded to create an illusion of endless freedom. Sounds and smells filled the space created by the cybersystem, making it appear incredibly realistic.

Max hated the first few minutes after awakening. He was not always able to dispel the unconscious anxiety and overcome the baseless worry. It spoiled his mood for the whole day.

The cyberstack on his right wrist beeped quietly and a sign appeared over the holographic landscape:

Family connection

Max grimaced, a quick flick of his pupils bringing up the control interface, and made several selections before staring at the Decline icon.

A pointless attempt. His tricks didn't work. It was almost impossible to block a family connection.