The Pole Shift

Lett heads for the Mountains

It was Friday afternoon. Lett had driven the truck to the foothills of the Great Dividing Range. She tried to engage Prophet with her every thought. She found the AI seemed to operate on a split level, when she asked a question that required a fact for answer the information came back immediately:

                "Prophet, what's that hills name?" The crystal would vibrate minutely then come back with the answer, as if she had Google in her ear. But when she asked a more complex question that required opinion based on various facts there was always a pause, and sometimes the answers were poetic, as if the system was trying to convey ideas lyrically, or in a way that a person could cogitate  gently, like a child with a nursery rhyme.

                "Prophet, why did Clarky create Mr. Spooky?" The book sat on the front seat, she found herself reaching for it without knowing she was, she would randomly flop open the book, and Mr. Spooky would look at her and suggest something with his thought bubbles:

                "Are you scared of alone, what if you were told you would always be alone?" Mr Spooky had a hand to his wide open mouth in alarm.

                Prophet's answer seemed to make sense:

                "Mr Spooky represents comfort, mothers comfort, female comfort. Not male. He drew on missed childhood affection for the character. The book is a shield to feeling unloved."  She wondered how it knew about the book. It was possible the AI had replayed surveillance of Clarky going back. That would explain the pause. It would know the book through spying on him. When she tried to peel back how it knew she was always met with silence.

                Lett had to put the book out of sight in the end, but she swore to keep it protected. Her pregnancy had passed the trimester, she didn't need to ask the AI if her hormones and emotions were tilted towards sentimentality. The truck journeyes on and Lett let her mind fall into reverie. 

                She drove until dusk. There were convoys of cars and trucks lining the roads to the mountains, there were signs of altercations. There was no sign of the Pole Police, but the higher she got the more she saw of the military. At one point a road block had been put in place. She was perhaps a thousand meters above sea level. A sign read "Residents Only" and troops with a Browning M1919 trained on the road frowned at her approach.

                "Prophet, how do I proceed?"

                Stop the truck. Moments passed. Drive forward.

                The soldiers pulled back the barricades, their eyes following her with interest and suspicion.  She felt a deep thrill of power and she could not help but burst into a wide smile. One of the soldiers was infected by it, and smiled back at her.

                There were less vehicles after the blockade, but here and there camps had been setup in paddocks, platforms had been built, where boats balanced like enormous toys. Residents watched her pass with terrible mistrust, fearing confrontation but Lett held to the road. Asking Prophet question after question, getting use to the format of the answer, and how best to cut to the heart of the matter with her own queries.

                "What physical assistance can I ask for?"

                Nothing until the Pole Shift has completed. Then Item drop.  Food, medicine. Some drone weaponry in extreme situations. 

                She left it at that. On a whim she asked what happened to Macka.

                Cast out, Fallen Angel.

                "What?" She said.

                Macka is alone, not chosen. He is in the Alpine forests of Mt Buffalo

                Lett changed down a gear in the old truck. The gradient was getting steeper. The truck was empty, she hadn't bothered to collect any of their caches, nor load up with survival gear. She thought for long moments. The set of her jaw tightened, and she said:

                 "Show me how to get to him."