Monday, September 30, 2013

TCB Part 8: Chapter 2 (cont.)

Go to the Beginning of the story



Chapter 2: Tuesday (cont.)


“In here? Are you sure?” Phineas was skeptical as he stared up at the fifty story skyscraper. “Why would he live here?”
“You can ask him when we see him.” Higgs led the way into the lobby of the once palatial hotel. The old marble floors were chipped and uneven, the product of years of attempted looting. Spiders lurked in the corners and around fluorescent lights that hadn’t shone for decades. The windows to the city outside were tinted, dimming the late afternoon sunlight. A lobby like this was never meant to exist in a world without electricity.
Higgs nearly tripped over the rubble of a destroyed wooden desk. He suspected it was the old concierge desk or something like that. Places like this became obsolete after the Traditionalist Revolution. At the time it was built, the occupants didn’t realize how much they depended on electricity. Without it, you couldn’t turn on the lights, run the elevators, or pump water to the upper floors. The sealed windows couldn’t be opened, so the building couldn’t be heated or cooled. Nobody would take the stairs to an upper floor where they would alternately freeze and swelter in a dark room. Many of these buildings were torn down. Still others were simply abandoned; the owners, having long since written them off, didn’t want to spend the money to demolish them.
From the outside, it wouldn’t appear that the building was occupied. Even here in the lobby, it didn’t appear that anybody lived here. Appearances can often be deceiving. In truth, these buildings attracted the kind of people who didn’t fit in elsewhere. Some couldn’t afford to live elsewhere; others preferred the anonymity of an unofficial existence. Most of the city’s residents just ignored these buildings and went about their lives as if they weren’t here.
“What floor is he on?” Phineas asked. He took off his overcoat as small beads of sweat were forming on his brow. The air in this building was damp and hot; it didn’t seem to move at all and carried the odor of hundreds of unwashed bodies. He pulled his small pollution mask from his pocket and put it over his nose and mouth.
“Thirty-nine.” Higgs said matter-of-factly before walking toward the stairwell.
“No way. I’m not climbing thirty-nine flights of stairs. Not in this heat. This suit wasn’t free you know.”
“Fine. Don’t.” Higgs started climbing the stairs without looking back at Phineas.
“Aww, Higgs. C’mon. Can’t you get him to come down here or something?” Phineas stood for a moment. When Higgs didn’t reply, he started following the other man up the stairs.
After three flights, Higgs got out of the stairwell and headed down a hallway. He clicked on his kerosene flashlight, shining it around as he walked. Phineas wasn’t far behind, breathing heavy from the exertion of three floors’ worth of stairs. Between deep breaths, Phineas asked, “Where are we going? I thought you said it was thirty-nine floors?”
Higgs looked back over his shoulder. “You can walk if you want, but I’m going to take the elevator.” He pulled a lever next to the old kitchen elevator at the end of the hall. The doors slid open and he walked into the elevator car. “They keep it on the fourth floor. It keeps the authorities from inspecting. Nobody really wants to climb those stairs.”
Higgs flipped a lever back and the doors slid shut. He grabbed a rope that stretched from a hole in the ceiling down through a corresponding hole in the floor. He began feeding the rope down from ceiling to floor and slowly the elevator moved upward. “Wanna give me a hand, Phineas? It’ll go a lot faster.”
Phineas began to pull on the rope along with Higgs. He was surprised at how easily it pulled. They pulled a lot of rope for the distance they were travelling. He guessed there were quite a few pulleys used to get it to a reasonable ratio. Progress wasn’t quick, but it sure beat the stairs. After about ten minutes of pulling, the 39 marker on the rope fed through the ceiling. Higgs pulled the lever and the elevator locked itself in place.
The pair exited the door and headed out into the hallway. It was dark like every other place in this building. Somehow it seemed even more squalid and run-down than the lower floors had. The difference here was that the hallway ended a short distance from the elevator. A makeshift wall had been erected in the hallway so that there was only one door on this floor. Higgs knocked on the one door and waited for a response.
After waiting several minutes, Phineas was ready to leave and said so. Higgs put up a hand. He noticed that the faint light in the peephole had darkened half a minute earlier. Someone was watching them from the other side of the door. Higgs spoke loudly through the door, “Kostas Stavraki?”
A muffled voice could be heard through the door. “What do you want?”
“We have a job offer for you. Can you please let us come in to talk?”
Higgs and Phineas continued to wait outside the door. Finally, he heard a series of latches and locks moving. The door swung open slowly, and a pair of eyes peeked around the edge of the door. They sized up the two men in the hall. A quiet voice came from behind the door. “Ok.”
The door opened the rest of the way and Higgs and Phineas walked into the apartment. It was much bigger than expected. It seemed that Kostas had knocked down every wall on the level to make one huge apartment. Despite the size of the room, all of his belongings were clustered into one interior corner. The rest of the room was scattered with random pieces of junk and trash. In one area was a pile of doors that had presumably been removed from the other rooms on the floor. In another, a chain of padlocks was strung in a bizarre mimic of Christmas tinsel. A group of large tables was clustered in the area furthest from the living space. On it rested dozens of vials, sticks of explosives, various clockwork devices and a handful of books. On the whole, the room felt very similar to Dr. Montebanque’s lab. The exception was that rather than everything looking like it would blow up, Phineas was relatively certain that things actually would explode in here.
Curtains, leftovers from the former life of this building, were tightly shut, keeping the room hidden from prying eyes. The air was permeated with the smell of sulfur and kerosene. Around the room, a series of oil lamps lit the space with dim flickering light. Higgs imagined that there was quite a view of the city from this height, but Kostas didn’t seem like the type to relish a view. In fact, he seemed to not relish having people in his apartment either. He was pacing nervously around his living area, as if waiting for Higgs or Phineas to speak or leave.
Kostas himself was a perfect fit for this sort of room. He wore a tattered white shirt under an unbuttoned black vest. His pants were frayed around the ankles and riddled with small rips and tears. His mostly bald head was ringed with a layer of thick, dark hair that hung off the sides of his head in wavy, matted strands. His skin was a pale olive that showed he hadn’t seen much daylight recently. He carried himself with little confidence, like a man who wasn’t used to interacting with people, especially strangers, and most certainly not in his home.
Higgs started the conversation. “Kostas, we’re sorry to bother you in your home. I got your name from a mutual friend. I’m led to understand that you’re the best safecracker in the business. We’re in need of a safecracker, and I want nothing but the best.”
The compliment seemed to make Kostas relax a bit. He stopped pacing the room and stood before a small countertop in the corner. He opened a paper carton that was one of dozens scattered across the makeshift kitchen. “Baklava?”
“Excuse me?” Higgs asked, unsure if he just couldn’t understand what Kostas had said.
“Is best baklava in city.” Kostas said in a heavily accented voice.
He tore a square of paper from a box and brought it to the small table where Higgs and Phineas were sitting. He set the paper down in front of the two. There were two squares of a sticky flaky pastry on the scrap. Higgs and Phineas looked at each other, unsure if it was safe to eat. Kostas took a bite out of his own square, so Higgs decided it was probably safe. He picked up one of the sticky squares and took a bite. Some kind of sweet juice exploded from the pastry. He had to admit, it was quite good.
“Is good, no?” Kostas asked, smiling. “Is made by friend, Cynthia. Very old family recipe.”
“Yes, delicious.” Higgs said after swallowing his bite of the flaky confection. Phineas nodded and mumbled something through his full mouth.
“Ok, we share baklava, we can talk now. What is job you say?” The strange man took a seat on a wooden crate across from the other two men. He still avoided eye contact with them, still clearly uncomfortable having visitors in his apartment.
“We want to rob a train.” Higgs spoke up. “It’s an armored car, and there are sure to be a number of locks and safes. There will be a very short window to pull it off, so we need to work fast.”
Kostas nodded, gazing off beyond Higgs’s shoulder. “The pay, it is good?”
“Very good. You’d never have to work again.”
“Work I like.” Kostas said, standing and walking back to his carton of baklava. He reached in and took another piece, shoving the entire pastry into his mouth. He chewed it loudly and took a long swig from an unmarked bottle with a brown liquid that looked like whiskey. “But much money can buy much baklava, no?”
Kostas broke into hysterical laughter. Phineas nearly jumped out of his seat. It took a moment to decide it was safe, and finally he and Higgs joined Kostas in his laughter. Kostas handed the bottle to Phineas, who gave Higgs an alarmed look, then lifted his mask and suspiciously took a sip from the bottle. He tried to hand it back to Kostas. Kostas waved with his hand toward Higgs. Higgs took the bottle and took a drink himself.
Kostas laughed loudly again. “We have a deal! We will take much money from train.” He grabbed the bottle back from Higgs and took another long drink.
Sensing an end to the conversation, Higgs and Phineas saw themselves out of the apartment. They returned to the elevator, flipping it into descent mode. The elevator lowered itself slowly back to the fourth floor. As soon as the pair left the building, Phineas removed the mask and took a deep breath of the night air. “I never thought the city could smell so good. Are you sure about that guy, Higgs?”
“Yeah…Why?” Higgs walked toward a nearby subway station with Phineas in tow.
Phineas, still reeling from the odd experience in Stavraki’s apartment said nothing. He wasn’t feeling confident. What an odd team! But he trusted his friend Thurmond Higgs. He just hoped that trust wasn’t misplaced.


Friday, September 27, 2013

TCB Part 7: Chapter 2 (cont.)

Go to the Beginning of the story

< Part 6

Chapter 2: Tuesday (cont.)


“Absolutely not.” The inventor’s wild hair seemed to take on a life of his own as he grumbled something to himself under his breath. Dr. Everton Leland Montebanque was eccentric to say the least. He wore a white lab coat, laden with clockwork enhancements whose purpose was not immediately apparent. He wore a pair of goggles on his head with various lenses and apertures, and a gas mask around his neck which did nothing to alleviate Higgs’s considerable reservations about the man.
Higgs looked around the back room of the inventor’s clock shop, which appeared to be a cross between some kind of commercial kitchen, chemistry lab, and machine shop. He wasn’t quite sure what was safe to touch, and what would explode on contact. Phineas didn’t have the same compunction; he was walking around the lab, grabbing this and that, turning it over.
“Don’t touch that!” Dr. Montebanque shouted at Phineas.
Phineas looked up, “Is it dangerous?” He turned it over in his hands, trying to determine its use. It looked like a small steel cylinder with thousands of tiny gears and springs inside.
“No, but it is very sensitive, and I’d prefer if you did not disturb it. That is one of my latest creations. It is an arithmetic machine. It is capable of very precise mathematics. Quite revolutionary, really.”
“Sounds like something a computer could probably have done better.” Phineas laughed, carefully returning the cylinder to its padded cradle.
“Perhaps,” said the inventor, “But that is blasphemy. This creation of mine is purely mechanical. It operates by hand crank, quite genius really, if I say so myself.”
Higgs cleared his throat and gave a stern look toward Phineas. “Dr. Montebanque, can we go back to the reason we’re here?”
“Must we? I have already given my answer.”
“Well, I feel that I have not adequately explained the situation. You see that there is a great deal of value on this train. You will be more than compensated for any of your devices that we use. I assure you that whatever you ask, we can afford.”
Dr. Everton Leland Montebanque grumbled some more. “It is not, Mr. Higgs, a matter of compensation. I do not wish to lend my creations to such an ignoble cause. I do not create these marvelous machines so that some villain can rob a train. It is out of the question.”
Higgs shook his head sadly. “This is your choice, sir. I can’t say that I blame you. A man of your brilliance should not have to take this kind of risk. We will find another way. Can you recommend another inventor that you think would be willing to help?”
Montebanque laughed out loud. “You will not find anyone whose inventions are as good as my creations. It is impossible.” The genius paused in thought, scratching his head beneath the wild hair. “Tell me, how exactly do you plan to do this train robbery.”
Higgs looked at Phineas, who had joined the other two in the center of the room. “Well, I think the plan was to use an airbike. Phineas, is that right?”
Phineas nodded, “Yes, airbike.”
“So we would use an airbike to get onto the train, and then I guess we would transport the goods off the train in the same way. I don’t see any other way, to be honest.”
Dr. Montebanque shook his head, “It will never work, you see. An airbike could not hold nearly enough cargo. They can barely hold a person. You need something bigger than that. Perhaps an entire airship would be enough. But then that could not keep up. I do have something that might work…”
Higgs smiled and winked at Phineas. “Please share, I’d love to hear it.”
“Well, it is not tested, quite dangerous. It would require a very foolish pilot. Ideally someone small.”
Phineas jumped in, “I know just the person.”
***
The pit area at the track was noisy and smelled strongly of grease and solid rocket fuel. The air was thick with the sounds of hammers pounding on metal, racing crews making last minute tweaks before the next race. Higgs heard a shout from somewhere down the line just before a rocket fell off its mount followed by five seconds of pregnant silence. The all clear was given and the sounds of tweaking and repairing resumed.
In a corner at the very back of the pit area, they found their target. She was working on her own airbike, making some adjustments to the wheels. She wore a loose gray jumpsuit that looked like it was designed for a man. Her hair was cropped short and looked like she didn’t do more to it than occasionally wash it and shove it into a helmet. The balloon was roughly patched in a few places from the previous race’s damages. As they were approaching, she cursed as she tried to get her front wheel somewhere close to true.
She looked up as Phineas and Higgs approached. “Sorry gents. That wasn’t very ladylike of me.” She stood up, wiped some grease from her hand on the side of her gray jumpsuit and put a hand out to Higgs. “The name’s Charlotte Avalon, some of the guys call me Charlie, so you can too if you like. I think it makes them less uncomfortable when they lose to a girl. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
Higgs shook her hand and stepped aside for Phineas to do the same. “Hello Charlotte, my name is Higgs, this is my friend Phineas Derbyshire. I saw your race this morning; that was quite a bit of piloting you did to pull that one off.”
“Yeah? You liked that move? I punctured the balloon on purpose at the end. The big balloon creates too much drag. When I put a hole in it, I can go a lot faster. Once I got to the home stretch, it didn’t do me much good anyway.”
Higgs smiled. It seemed there was more to this one than meets the eye. “Very impressive. And it won me a few bucks too.” He winked at Charlotte, who beamed back, clearly proud of her win.
She went back to her bike to look at the wheel again. “Mind if I work while we chat? I’ve got a lot of work to get done before the primetime race tonight. Under the lights! It’ll be my first race under the lights.”
Phineas shook his head. “Don’t you have a crew that should do that for you, Charlie?”
Charlotte threw her head back and laughed. “Derbyshire, you’ve got a lot to learn about the world. Ain’t a mechanic within 100 miles who wants to fix a bike for a girl. Even if that girl wins most of the races she’s in. It’s a man’s world in the racing circuit. They tell me to just be thankful that they let me race at all. But you don’t see them packing the house for a matinee the way I did this afternoon.” She tweaked a few of the spokes on her wheel, spinning it on its stand before choosing another spoke to tighten. “Besides, I don’t trust anyone else to work on my baby. This bike’s my pride and joy.”
Phineas walked around the airbike. He leaned down close to the rocket mount, scratching his finger across a rather sloppy weld. He ran his hand down one of the cables that kept the balloon attached to the bike; he nearly cut a finger open on a frayed wire. “Doesn’t look like you take very good care of your baby.”
“Back off, slick. She wins races. I wouldn’t have her any other way.” She picked up a small threaded spoke nut and threw it at Phineas. She giggled at the way he shied away as if it were going to get his pressed shirt dirty. “I take it you guys didn’t come here to talk about the poor condition of my airbike. So what is it? You guys promoters? Want me to enter a race? I’ll do it. I’ll race anywhere, any time.”
Higgs walked around the bike to where he could see her face. “No we don’t have a race for you. But we have a much better offer. If you work with us, you’ll be able to buy yourself as many airbikes as you want. You’ll be buying racetracks and giving those men the pleasure of racing on your track. Catch my drift?”
“You got my attention. Money like that doesn’t come easy. I’m guessing you guys are stealin’ something. Am I right?” She tried to flip a blonde ringlet off her forehead, but it fell right back to where it had been. Higgs couldn’t tell from her look whether the idea of theft excited or frightened her. He wasn’t sure if anything could frighten her.
“You’re right, Charlotte.” Higgs was impressed with her deduction. Just as he’d suspected earlier, she was more than just a brave fool. Somewhere beneath her tomboy exterior, he was sure she was a thinker. He’d have to remember that later.
“So what is it? Bank Job? Museum? What on earth do you need me to do for you with that?”
“Train. We’re robbing a train.”
“A moving train?”
“Probably, yes.”
“Sounds fun! But I’m not sure I’m up for something like that. You know, I’ve got a reputation to keep. I’m just starting to get some cred in the airbike circuit. It won’t be long before they let me enter the dozen rocket races. Can you imagine that? Sorry Higgs. It sounds fun, but I’m not ready to go to jail. Thanks for the offer.”
Higgs nodded to Phineas, who walked around to stand next to Higgs. He unbuttoned his overcoat, and reached into an inner pocket, pulling out a large envelope. “Charlotte, you’re good with airbike…The best really. I’ve watched you race dozens of times. Nobody matches your skill. Nobody else would have made that move you did this morning. I’ll be honest, when Higgs said he needed a stuntman, only one name came to mind. I told him he didn’t need a stuntman, he needed a woman. He needed you. If I thought that anybody else could pull this thing off, we’d walk away right now. But I can tell you that there’s nobody else that can pull this off. If you don’t do this, we don’t do this.”
Charlotte blushed at the compliment and looked away. Higgs was surprised at her reaction. She’d been so self-confident. He guessed she didn’t get many compliments like that one. Phineas was working his magic in the way only he could.
The great con artist continued, “Before you give us your final answer, I wanted you to have a look at this.” He handed her the envelope.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the schematic of the thing we want you to fly.” Phineas pretended to be preoccupied with a fingernail. It was a very nonchalant way to show his indifference. In reality, his heart was beating out of his chest hoping that this would work.
Charlotte opened the envelope, pulling out a few sheets of blueprints. She looked over the drawings. It was a drawing of a person in some kind of suit. The drawing showed the arms extended to the sides, rigid and blade shaped. Hands slipped through loops near the blade tips. The rigid blades connected at the shoulder, and curved lines indicated how the blades could retract when not in use. The suit continued down the torso, connecting to aerodynamic leg sections. The boots of the suit had small fins on the rear and sides. There was a helmet that was rounded on top, tapering back in a smooth curve toward the shoulders, where it seamlessly connected to the blades.
The next page showed a rear angle view of the suit, and Charlotte’s jaw dropped when she saw it. She looked up expectantly at Phineas, “Is that a rocket?”
“Sure is.”
“It’s a rocket powered wing suit? I’ve never seen anything like this? Is it even legal?”
“Hard to say. The designer is very careful to stay within the law. But everybody has a weakness. His is technology.”
Charlotte bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. Phineas could tell she was trying to talk herself out of doing it. “If I join you guys, I get to fly this thing?”
“That’s right. You’ll be landing it on a train.”
“Landing on a train? A moving train? Wearing this suit?”
“That’s the plan, right Higgs?” Phineas winked at Higgs, who nodded his agreement silently.
Charlotte shook her head. Her short curls bounced around her face as she did it. It was as if she was trying to shake the words out, but was failing miserably. “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Part 8 >

Thursday, September 26, 2013

TCB Part 6: Chapter 2 (cont.)

Go to the Beginning of the story

< Part 5

Chapter 2: Tuesday. (Cont.)

Higgs and Phineas sat in a lush booth at the edge of a very well appointed dining room in the finest restaurant in the city. Higgs considered this a business expense, so the bill would be paid from the bag of cash the stranger had left with him.
Phineas started off the conversation, “We should get in touch with Dr. Montebanque.”
“Do we have to? I’m not sure I can stand his constant twittering about his ‘marvelous creations.’”
Phineas smiled. “No, we don’t have to talk to him. But then, we don’t have to pull this thing off. If we’re going to do it, I can assure you that we need Everton. There’s nobody better.”
“Alright, I’ll give you that. We’ll talk to Montebanque, but don’t expect me to enjoy it.”
“I’d never ask you to enjoy anything, Higgs. Why start now? Loosen up, will ya? Try to have some fun with this one. This is retirement money; you can afford to relax a bit.”
“That is precisely why I cannot relax. I’ve walked away from too many sweet takes. I’d rather not have to walk away from this one. We’re going to need a locksmith.” Higgs said between sips of the finest wine he’d ever tasted. The food was predictably delicious, and the wine was perfectly paired.
“Okay, what about Grigsby?”
“No, Grigsby’s no good. He’s way too clever for his own good. Usually gets himself in trouble trying to pick a lock that he should’ve just blasted. What else you got?”
Phineas chewed a roll while his eyes stared into some infinite distance. “Porter? He was always good.”
“Lockup. He got caught breaking into some mucky-muck’s house. They sent him up for a few years. I heard there’s a Greek that’s been making some waves in the business.”
Phineas made a face, “Ehh, Greeks. I hate working with Greeks.”
“Phineas, I refuse to let your prejudice get in the way of hiring a good safecracker. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s the best in the business. I heard about a job he did a few months ago, double combination locked safe I think. He got in and out in a few minutes, closed the thing back up and locked it on his way out. They didn’t know he’d been in it for weeks when the owner finally opened it to find his entire life’s savings gone. I’ve heard he’s not very dependable, but—” Higgs looked across the table, and could tell that Phineas wasn’t listening. He kept looking over Higgs’s shoulder. “Just last week, he stole five hundred coconuts using nothing but a team of monkeys.”
“Hmm, sounds good. Wait. What?”
“Nothing. What’s over my shoulder?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Higgs turned around. “Her? She’s distracting you? I thought you were above that sort of woman.”
“Well…She’s very pretty.”
“She’s a beautiful shark, Phineas. You think you’ve lost money on the races? She’ll make that look like pocket change.” Higgs chewed a bite of his lunch, a grin creeping in at the corner of his mouth. “Although, I suppose…”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that she might be of use.”
“Don’t do it, Higgs. You said it yourself, she’s no good.”
“That’s just it, Phineas. She’s just too good. Very good indeed.”
Phineas shook his head. “I dunno. But, this is your thing. You’re about to get your chance. She’s on her way over.”
Higgs turned to see the tall bombshell making her way over to their table. Every head in the room turned as she passed. A flip of her deep auburn hair was enough to send most men into convulsions. Her dress was just revealing enough to get your attention, but not so much as to give the wrong impression. She was tall, with curves in all the right places. Her smile was generously given and seemed to light up the room with some kind of other-worldly radiance. Higgs found it entertaining to watch the other men in the dining room gawk. He could see that there would soon be more than a few husbands explaining themselves to unhappy wives.
“Hi Phineas. Who’s your friend?” Her voice was sultry, pitched just right to make her easy to listen to while still conveying some kind of flirtatiousness that Higgs couldn’t put his finger on.
“Anabelle Devereaux, this is Thurmond Higgs, an old friend from a past life.”
“Not completely past, I hope.” Anabelle put out a gloved hand, which Higgs took with a smile. He gave the customary kiss on the hand. She gave what Higgs was sure was an affected blush. “Charming. It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr. Higgs.”
Phineas laughed, almost sending expensive wine out his nose. “Don’t waste your time Ana. He’s not really your type. This meal is paid for by his employer.”
Anabelle demurred, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Higgs jumped in. “Don’t worry, whatever you do to get by is not my business. And you can just call me Higgs. I’m not much of a mister.”
Anabelled smirked knowingly at Higgs. “Fair enough, Higgs. Well, I wanted to say hello, but I fear I’ve kept my date waiting long enough, I should be going back to him.”
Higgs reached out and put a hand on her arm. “One minute, Miss Devereaux, if you don’t mind. I’d like to make you a proposal.”
“Higgs, I’m not that type of girl.” She winked at him. “If I give away the ending, nobody would come to see the show.”
Higgs returned a grin. “It’s not that kind of proposal, but I’m flattered. Phineas and I have the opportunity to make enough money that we never have to work again. Now, I’m sure getting rich men to pay for all your food, clothes, house, and who-knows-what is a fun sport. I’m offering you a way that you won’t have to spend another day pretending to be interested in some dull guy with a big wallet.”
“You’ve piqued my interest, Thurmond. Continue.”
“Well, there is a train arriving in the city in a few days’ time. It is carrying a great number of valuable things. We intend to steal them. We could use someone with your charms to pull this off. If you help us, I can assure you that you’ll never want for money again.”
“It sounds dishonest, even illegal. Phineas, are you ok with this?”
Phineas laughed and didn’t respond, choosing instead to take another drink of wine. Anabelle pursed her lips, making a show of thinking about it. “I will have to give this some thought. You will be in touch?”
Higgs smiled, “Sure. We’ll be in touch. See you soon.”
Despite his best effort, Higgs couldn’t resist watching her walk away. He was convinced that she would be a very useful addition to the team. Just a few more commitments would be all they’d need.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

TCB Part 5 - Chapter 2: Tuesday

Go to the Beginning of the story

< Part 4

Chapter 2: Tuesday


Higgs took a seat in the packed grandstand. It seemed like half the city had come out to the stadium at the edge of the city. The sun was shining as light cottonball clouds drifted across the sky, casting shadows on the grassy track below. Beyond the stadium, the city’s skyline towered like some amalgam of early 21st century and Victorian architecture. Many of the old glass rectangles had been fitted with more “Traditional” facades to fit in with the current trend. At the fringes, factories churned black smoke into the air, adding to the smoggy haze coloring the horizon. Overhead, airships drifted leisurely across the sky, transporting passengers across the city and giving a bird’s eye view of the stadium.
The racers were making their way to the starting line, airbikes in tow. The not quite lighter-than-air racers were the reason people came out in droves. The racer was little more than a long, streamlined helium balloon with a bicycle attached below. The balloon itself is not large enough to lift the machine. In order to achieve lift, the balloon is heated to increase buoyancy. The remaining lift is provided by directing the downward angle of the solid fuel rockets. Each bike had 8 rockets, fired in pairs throughout the race. The trajectory of an airbike is swooping, traveling upward when the rocket is firing, and drifting downward between thrusts. When in full thrust, the bikes could travel at more than 100 mph, and were notoriously difficult to control. It was the spectacular crashes that provided the primary thrill for the crowd.
Higgs watched as 8 racers waved to the crowd and climbed into their minimalist cockpits. This race was unique in that it featured Charlotte Avalon, the only female racer on the circuit. Traditionalist society was far from equal, so some tracks wouldn’t allow her to race. Any time she did, she was sure to attract a bigger crowd, so the tracks were getting more and more lenient all the time. Her balloon was a little smaller than the others, able to carry her lighter weight with less lift.
At the sound of the gun, the racers were off for their two laps of the 4 mile track. 8 pairs of flames flared behind the bikes and the balloons launched themselves upward toward the first curve of the track. The racers swung their balloons into the first curve and around the series of tall poles marking the inside of the track. Charlotte’s bike was ten feet higher than the others, allowing her to swing above the fray and avoid the inevitable bumps and pushes below. The pack streaked around to the back stretch and the lead racers fired their second set of rockets, shooting them forward down the stretch.
The second turn saw the first crash, as one of the racers was on a downward trajectory, and another competitor fired his rocket from below, causing them to collide in mid-air. Charlotte jockeyed her rocket downward to barely avoid the collision. As she swooped below the wreckage, another racer’s rocket singed the fabric of her balloon, but it seemed to remain intact. As she came into the home stretch, she was sitting in fourth position. She fired her second set of rockets, throwing her forward and upward toward the leaders.
Back around the first curve, the leader’s starboard rocket came loose sending him and his airbike hurtling into the net in front of the crowd. The grandstands erupted in screams and cheers as the leaders entered the back stretch. Charlotte was now in third, with half a lap to the finish. She aimed her bike downward, allowing gravity to pull her forward. The other racers were firing their third set of rockets, leaving Charlotte trailing.
“Fire your rocket! What are you waiting for?!” Higgs stood and shouted as he watched her get left in the dust behind the other racers. Then he saw that her balloon seemed to be getting somewhat smaller. Apparently the near-crash earlier had created a small leak in her balloon. She was shooting downward toward the ground quickly as she approached the final turn.
Finally, she fired her third rocket, sending her shooting into the turn. She expertly banked and drifted her way through the turn. She shot forward down the home stretch faster than Higgs had ever seen an airbike move. The rocket thrust was barely enough to keep her wheels above the grass track below. She reached down to her side, snapping one of her rocket levers off the machine. She swung the lever toward the balloon, puncturing a hole in the balloon just behind her feet.
The helium began to shoot out of the balloon through the newly made hole, and the bike started to skim the ground. She fired her fourth rocket before the third was finished, and she shot forward even faster. Her wheels were spinning against the ground and her balloon was deflating rapidly. She shot past the other racers just as she reached the finish line and her rockets shut off. The crowd erupted in cheers at the exciting finish. Higgs smiled as he looked down at his ticket with Avalon printed on it at 3:1 odds.
Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a familiar face. “Phineas, just the man I came here to see! Have a seat, buddy.”
“Hey Higgs, good to see you.” Phineas Derbyshire sat down next to Higgs. Phineas wore his usual three piece black suit and coachman hat. A pair of brass-rimmed sunglasses sat perched on his nose above a well-trimmed mustache. He gave a warm smile that Higgs knew had gotten him out of more than his fair share of tight spots. It was the perfect reminder of why Higgs needed him on his team.
“Phineas, how are things? How’s business?”
“Been better, to be honest, but I get by. I just dropped my oddsmaker last week. That fool put me in debt, and that’s just the boxing matches. Don’t get me started on the races. A guy can only smile his way out of so many debts before he has to start paying. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah. I do. Say, you interested in a job? Could be fun, just like old times?”
Phineas’s face dropped into a frown. “Higgs, I don’t know. I’ve got a business to think about now. I can’t risk getting myself into trouble. I’ve got a good thing going now, a real legitimate business, good clients.”
Higgs laughed, “Look at you. You’re a big deal, Phineas Derbyshire, bookie to the Vickie aristocracy.”
“You’d better believe it, Higgs.” Derbyshire laughed heartily and slapped Higgs on the shoulder. “But finish your pitch. What’s the job?”
Higgs handed him the freight manifest. “I could really use a guy with your connections, Phineas. But I understand.”
Phineas dropped his jaw as he read through the list of what was on the train. “There’s a lot of good stuff on this list.”
Higgs reached for the book, “Well, I won’t take any more of your time, Phineas, I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll need a different fast talker. Do you know how I could get a hold of Grimes?”
“Just drop a few coins, he’ll find you from the sound, greedy bastard.” Phineas laughed.
Higgs smiled and said nothing.
“Wait, you’re serious? You’re going to get him in on this?” Phineas held back the book and took another look at the list.
Higgs smiled and said continued to say nothing.
“Say—what are you planning to take? Any number of these things would be huge.” Phineas leafed through the manifest, nodding at certain items.
“All of it.”
“All of it?”
“Can I have my book back?” Higgs grabbed for the book, and Phineas pulled it back.
Phineas smirked, “You know, I might be able to spare some time to help out a friend.”

Higgs smiled. “Thought you might.”

Part 6 >

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

TCB Part 4: Archives: Congratulations, Mr. President

Go to the Beginning of the story

< Part 3



Archives: Congratulations, Mr. President


President Matthias Ralston
1600 Pennsylvania Ave
Washington, DC

January 20, 1 T.E.

President Ralston –

                Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your inauguration. As you may have noticed, I’ve dated this letter as 1 T.E. I believe that this year marks what will be seen as a new era for mankind, the Traditionalist Era. What better way to reset our history than to reset the date! You will be remembered in history as the President who saw the Traditionalist Movement find purchase in the greatest nation on Earth.
Although today is a red letter day in history, we cannot afford to rest on our laurels for even one minute. We must strike while the iron is hot to eliminate the remnants of the Technologist party here in the United States. The election was difficult, but the cleanup will be even more. The fact is that our movement cannot succeed if we allow dissenters to live alongside our supporters. Humanity cannot begin to heal if we do not close those wounds. I am confident that you are exactly the person we need in charge if we are to execute this swiftly and decisively. That is the reason that I supported you in this election.
It is also the reason that so many patriotic Traditionalists like myself have supported like-minded members of Congress and the Senate. We have provided you with overwhelming majorities in both houses that should allow any necessary legislation to pass without obstruction from the harlots of the digital scourge. I cannot be emphatic enough that the Technological harm done must be undone. If allowed to remain, it will eat slowly at the soul of humanity until we are once again a shell of our former selves. Technology must be eliminated, and that right soon.
This will require deep sacrifices, it may lead to civil war. I am confident that our party, with superior resources and the support of the great business leaders of our country and those around the globe, can win any conflict that the filthy Digits can throw at us. Do not worry about how history will view you. History is written by the victors, and we will be victorious. I pledge every resource that I can to be sure that we are victorious. This is about our souls, and there can be no price tag on that.
I look forward to the reforms you enact as our President. Today, I am overjoyed that we have taken the first step toward making our country, and the world, a better place—a place governed by tradition rather than the tyranny of technology. Know that you are doing the work that will allow humanity to flourish once again.

Traditionally Yours,
Alistair Lester

Go To Part 5 >

Monday, September 23, 2013

TCB Part 3: Chapter 1 (cont.)

If you're just joining the story, you may want to start with Part 1

< Part 2

Here is the conclusion of Chapter 1. When we left off, Higgs had robbed the bank despite the carelessness of his safe cracker. He left all the money in the car with his team and told them to meet him at the rendezvous point.


Chapter 1: A Monday (cont.) 

Higgs ran the other way down the alley. The night was cold and dark. The sky was still overcast after an earlier rainstorm. The road glistened with the slick mix of rainwater and pollution, giving this alley the characteristic smell of the city’s underside. He spotted a manhole cover and popped it off, lowering himself into the underground rail tunnel below
He clicked his flashlight on and started running down the track. He knew these tunnels well. Some of them were modified from the original pre-war subway system. Most of the tunnels were now abandoned, but he feared that this may be one of the few modified to carry steamers. His fears were confirmed as he ran underneath one of the huge steam vents. How far was he from a station? He kept running.
He saw a light ahead and kept running toward it. After a few steps, he realized it was a headlight, not a station. He felt the low rumble in the ground as the massive train lumbered down the track toward him. He spun on his heels and ran back the way he’d come. He could hear the grinding of the steel wheels on the rails, the clicking of the behemoth rolling over the welded rail sections, getting closer and closer to him. He could never outrun this train.
He reached the steam vent again and grabbed onto the maintenance ladder. He started frantically climbing the shaft. He could hear the train moving closer to the shaft. He kept climbing while the pressure built up in the shaft as the mixture of smoke and steam began to push its way out of the tunnel into the vent. The sound was deafening.
The vent extended two stories above the street level behind the facade of a building so the city’s residents could pretend it wasn’t there. He felt the steam and smoke licking at his heels as he got close to the top. He reached a platform with a door. He threw a shoulder into the door and felt the latch give way as he stumbled into a maintenance closet. He slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it as he felt the force of the scalding exhaust try to work its way into his sanctuary. A minute later, the steam and pressure was gone as fast as it had come.
Higgs found his way out of the maintenance building into the street. Was he in the clear? He hoped so. He was probably a mile from the bank now. He kept walking, the increasing distance providing more and more comfort with every step. He looked up and saw the half-moon just starting to shine through the thinning cloud cover. The remaining low clouds drifted between the corpses of skyscrapers abandoned decades ago with the rise of the Traditionalists. He wondered if they would all be torn down eventually. For now, they provided housing for those whom society had forgotten and others who hoped to be forgotten.
Suddenly, as he was passing an alley, he heard a voice from the shadows. “Thurmond Higgs.”
A shiver ran down Higgs’s spine. This was it. He was caught. He turned slowly to see who it was that called his name. He saw a figure in a dark hooded cape. He wore a mask over his face. It was the kind of mask the rich Vickies wore to keep them from having to breathe the smog of the filth-ridden inner city. The cape was made from rich black velvet, with a hood that sat low, hiding his face from view.
Higgs faced him, his heart racing, brow furrowed. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”
“I know a great many things about you, Thurmond Higgs. My identity is not important.”
“Great. Well, I’ll be on my way. Nice meeting you.”
Higgs turned to walk away when he heard the stranger’s voice again. “Why didn’t you get in the car with the others?”
He turned back to the stranger, “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t care what you’ve done, Thurmond. Your secret is safe with me. I only ask because I wonder whether you actually trust your team so much.”
Higgs walked into the dark alley to get out of the view of the road. He got close enough to the stranger that he could smell his musky cologne wafting out from under the cape, no doubt intended to cover up the stench of the city. “No. I don’t trust them, which is precisely the reason I left the bag with them. They’ll never get away. And when they’re caught, if the police don’t find every last missing coin, they’ll keep looking for me.”
“Aren’t you worried they’ll give you away?”
“The police won’t care, as long as they get all the money back. Besides, those sods don’t know who I am. Which begs the question, how do you know my name anyway?”
“I have great interest in your career.”
Higgs laughed. “Ha! Some career, slinking around alleyways after a fruitless bank job.”
“I would like to ask you to do something for me.”
Higgs crossed his arms and stared at the stranger.
“There is a train.” The stranger continued. “I’d like you to rob it. Can you do that?”
“Maybe. Trains are hard, considering that they’re moving. I’d need quite a team, and the kind of people I’d need don’t come cheap.”
“You can hire any team you like. I will finance it all, money is not an object.”
“Ok... Let’s say I do this job. What’s on the train, and what’s in it for me?”
The stranger reached a gloved hand out from under the cape and handed Higgs a small pad of paper. “This is the freight manifest and timetable. There will be an armored car on this train carrying a great number of things of value. The value on this train will make your little bank job look like a pittance.”
Higgs leafed through the pamphlet in the moonlight: jewels, gold, and a lot of pre-war items that were hard to come by since the abolition of electricity. It was a huge take, if they could manage to get all this stuff off the train. It wouldn’t be easy. But surely, his share of the take would be worth it.
“You know, I never thought Vickies--sorry Traditionalists--like yourself would need to steal. But I’m not one to ask questions. So how much of this will I keep?”
“All of it.”
Higgs looked at the stranger with disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding, right?”
“Not at all. You are free to divide the valuables between your team however you like. I ask only that you bring me a certain book that is on the train.”
“Sounds too good to be true. What are you, a cop or something? Am I being set up?”
“This is not a setup, Thurmond. The information in that book is more valuable to me than all the money in the world. If you bring me that book, and don’t ask questions, you will have anything else you choose to take from the train. You can take or leave this offer; I will not force you to do it. But I assure you that the offer is genuine.”
“How do I get in contact with you? I’ll need some things, money mostly.”
The stranger handed him a bag of gold coins. “That will be enough to get you started. If you want to meet with me, put a red flag in your apartment window. I will find you in due time. You will not regret this, Higgs.”
The stranger turned and walked quickly down the alley, disappearing around a corner. A police whistle could be heard in the general direction of the bank. Higgs grinned and put the pouch in his pocket. During the long walk home, he couldn’t stop thinking about the perfect team he could put together. That stranger was right about one thing, this would be life changing.

Go to Part 4 >

Friday, September 20, 2013

TCB: Part 2/48 - Chapter 1

< Part 1


This is part 2 of The City Beneath. If you didn't read part one, click the link above for a little background before jumping in.

Chapter 1: 35 years after the revolution, a Monday


Higgs followed the safecracker through the newly excavated hole in the wall. The explosion was bigger than expected and Higgs was worried that they’d drawn attention. It was a miracle that this careless brute hadn’t been caught before. Higgs was tempted to call the whole thing off and get out of the building before things escalated. He grabbed the other man’s sleeve and whispered urgently, “Hey, what’s the deal back there? You’re gonna get us caught making that kind of a blast.”
The tall and thick man turned slowly, not bothering to whisper his response. “You wanted to get into the vault. I’m getting you into the vault. Are you going to micromanage me or let me do my job?”
Higgs shook his head. He spun his counterpart around and pushed him toward the vault door ahead. He was too far into it at this point to back down. He didn’t hear any alarm bells or whistles going off. The bank was surely equipped with seismic bottles. If the blast broke one of those, they’d definitely have heard it by now. He reached into his bag, pulling out a small kerosene flashlight. He clicked the piezo igniter and the flame sprung to life.
He shined the beam around the room. It was a typical bank vault. Lockboxes lined the walls, holding the valuables of the city’s wealthy residents. A collection of filing cabinets in the center of the room served as a table for clients to admire their wealth in complete discretion. Higgs didn’t begrudge anybody their fortune. He just wished they weren’t so smug about it. The self-satisfied Vickies loved to parade their opulence everywhere they went.
Even here in the vault, each box was labeled with a name. Throwing anonymity to the wind, they preferred their peers to know that they too had something of value to store here. This room was a “who’s who” of the post-war gentry. The largest box, of course, belonged to Montgomery Lester, scion of the legendary Traditionalist war hero and profiteer Alistair Lester. To the victor go the spoils, as they say, and the spoils created quite the nest egg for Montgomery.
The boxes weren’t the target, despite the ease of cracking open the flimsy doors. The valuables inside these boxes would prove difficult to convert into cash. How do you sell a one-of-a-kind necklace that’s just been reported stolen? It wasn’t worth the risk for Higgs. His target was the gold inside the steel vault at the end of the room. With out of control post-war inflation, gold and silver had become the de-facto currency.
He glanced over to the vault door and saw that the safecracker was already working on it. He’d marked the door for the key points of weakness. A few key blasts in those points would disable the pins that keep the door closed. He reached into his bag, pulling out an old-model portable electric drill. Higgs’s face lit up red as he rushed over to the other man.
“What are you, nuts? You get caught with that thing, and you’re looking at more than just a few years behind bars.”
“Back off, buddy. You know I can’t drill this door with a hand crank.”
“Yeah, but electric tools earn you the Technologist label. You know what a Vickie does to a Digit, don’t you? You’ll be put in one of their gulags. You’ll never see the light of day. I hired you for theft, not treason.”
“Fine. I’ll put the drill away, but then we’re going to have to blast more.”
Higgs thought about it for a moment. This was not going as planned. He should’ve done more research on his team before starting this thing. No turning back now. He’d rather have to face a theft charge than risk being labeled a Digit. “Blast it. You’re not using that drill.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The safecracker pulled a bottle of clear liquid from his bag. With a small brush, he began to carefully paint the hinges of the door with the explosive fluid. He painted the fluid on the lock mechanism in the center of the door as well. He grabbed a box out of his bag, opening it to reveal four small clockwork devices. In the center of each device was a small glass vial filled with a red fluid. A spring timer on each was attached to a small hammer, poised to shatter the vial. He stuck the four devices to the door above the hinges and lock, setting the timer on each.
“Ok, I’d recommend taking cover.” He said in a too-loud whisper.
Higgs took cover behind the bank of file cabinets. He sat silently, wondering if this was the right choice. Another large blast meant another chance to set off the seismic alarms. He listened to the timers as they clicked steadily. He wasn’t sure how long he would need to wait. He covered his ears and continued waiting.
Finally, he heard each timer click into its final position. The spring-loaded hammers struck their targets, spilling the red chemical onto the painted fluid. The chemicals mixed in four loud and violent blasts split seconds apart. He heard the door drop from its hinges before toppling and slamming into the bank of cabinets, throwing Higgs across the room.
He scrambled to his feet, expecting the alarms to start, but it was silent. He rushed into the vault and began loading the gold coins into his bag. The safecracker calmly walked into the room and began to load his bag. The man looked at Higgs with a cocky smile on his face. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
Higgs looked up, ready to give the guy credit for pulling it off. Behind the safecracker, he saw a seismic bottle in the wall. It had cracks running through the entire glass. “Hey, watch out behind you, that bottle’s about ready to break.”
“What? I can’t hear your whispers, speak up.” The safecracker stood up to see what Higgs was pointing at. He spun around and his bag smashed into the bottle, sending shards of glass flying, and setting alarms ringing all around the pair.
“Out! Now. Go!” Higgs shouted, leading the other man out of the room. As he ran, he started thinking about whether he’d grabbed enough coins to make this whole hassle worthwhile. He should’ve done his research on his team. He couldn’t afford the rates that the top people charged. Crime was big business, and it seems you get what you pay for. He grumbled to himself as he rushed through the safe deposit room and toward the large hole in the wall.
They leaped back through the hole into the basement of the building next door. Scrambling up the stairs to the alley behind the buildings, Higgs hoped that the driver was waiting for them. As they emerged into the alley, he found that the driver was, indeed waiting for them. One look at the vehicle, and Higgs knew they didn’t stand a chance. It was a monstrous steel steamer car. You could practically hear the thing a mile away.
He shouted up to the driver, “What on earth is this? I’m surprised you could fit it in this alley.”
“It’s fast, don’t complain.”
Higgs threw his bag into the back seat of the car next to the waiting safecracker. He shut the door. “You go. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point."

Go to Part 3 >

Thursday, September 19, 2013

TCB Part 1/47: Archives: The Traditionalist Manifesto

Over the next month or two, I'm going to be serializing and posting my novel, The City Beneath. I wrote this novel last year during the month of November for National Novel Writing Month. It's a steam-noir heist novel. It's full of action, excitement and really awesome characters. I'd love for you to read it and let me know what you think! 

Archives: The Traditionalist Manifesto





Throughout the course of history, there have been moments that represent a shift in the paradigm of human society. The society that emerges from these moments is nearly unrecognizable as an evolution of its former self. Mankind changed with the invention of fire, and knowledge was shared through the writing of history. We see a shift in the rise of Greek and Roman Empires. The world changed forever again with the birth of Christ and the death of Rome. Some of these shifts have been given names: the renaissance, age of enlightenment, Industrial revolution, and the list goes on.

It would be easy to assume that these shifts represent positive change, but sometimes shifts have unexpected consequences. The fall of Rome and rise of Christendom resulted in a long dark age in Europe. That period of regression remained until the horrible Black Plague ushered in the Renaissance. Often the effect of a paradigm shift will not be evident until history has been allowed to run its course. The bringers of change, often with good intentions, hoist destruction and regression onto an unwitting society.

The turn of the 20th Century saw the advent of the Technological Revolution. This movement, like many before it, was ushered in by many with good intent. Technology could make life easier; it could support the world’s ever growing population. Electricity brought automation, with computing not far behind. The unstoppable march of progress continued onward. By the end of the 20th Century, it had left the devastation of two world wars and countless other conflicts, made all the more destructive by the advancement of technology. But this leap of technological progress brought with it the death of the soul of humanity.

We were reduced to lethargy as we stared at flashing screens. We reveled in the illusion of worldwide unity through the Internet. We released our control over the machines of convenience and made them our masters, allowing them to dominate our lives. Never again would our children learn the value of a hard-day’s work. We lost the ability to communicate with other humans, preferring the safety of an electronic intermediary. Technology hungered for our very souls, and we raised our hands and volunteered.

The true consequences of our lack of foresight were not fully felt until the third Great War. It is a testament to mankind’s evil nature that we turned our technologies against our fellow man. No longer were we content to destroy our own lives through slavery to an object, but rather, we must use that object to destroy our neighbors. We saw the destruction wrought on the so-called developing world, first through our imperialism, and later through our weaponry. It is a sin against humanity itself that we could not see what we had done until we left half the globe destroyed. Those places not crumbling from bombings are glowing from radioactivity.

The only reason we survive to this day is that those engaged in fighting were too selfish to risk their own homelands for the meaningless cause for which they fought. So we have America, and we have Europe, and the rest of the world suffers from the after effects of yet another war to end all wars. And yet humanity resists the answer to our problem. We refuse to admit the root cause of our struggles. It is the very technologies that are supposed to make life better, which destroy more life than they give.

The time has come to say “No!” We must stand up to those who tell us that everything will be ok if we just learn to love the machines. We refuse to sit idly as our brothers and sisters hand their humanity over to a digital overlord. We reject that technology can heal the wounds of the twentieth century. Technology caused the very wounds they would seek to heal. We cannot allow ourselves to fall asleep in the face of the greatest threat in centuries. We must act, and act strongly we will.

We call for a return to humanity’s golden age through elimination of that thing which has caused the deterioration of our society: technology itself. Only in the destruction of these anti-human machines will we truly achieve freedom. Any machine using an electrical charge must be destroyed. Humanity once lived without these devices, and we can do it once again. Indeed, it is imperative for us to do it once again. We return to our golden age armed with the knowledge of what a technological future looks like. What has been done can and must be undone.

It is your duty, brothers and sisters to spread the word to your friends, your families, your neighbors. Shout it from the rooftops: “Freedom!” Freedom from the tyranny of technology. Freedom from the electronic monsters. Raise the cry of freedom everywhere you go. Together we will maintain our humanity. Together, we will preserve our traditions.



-The Traditionalist Manifesto

Go to Part 2

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

The City Beneath Index

The City Beneath Index:



Chapter 1: 35 Years After the Revolution, A Monday.


Chapter 2: Tuesday

Chapter 3: Wednesday
Part 11

Part 12: Archives: A Letter To My Son

Chapter 4: Thursday Morning
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15

Chapter 5: Thursday Evening
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18

Part 19: Archives: Progress!

Chapter 6: Friday Morning
Part 20
Part 21

Chapter 7: Friday Still
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25

Chapter 8: Friday Evening
Part 26

Part 27: Archives: A Spark

Chapter 9: Saturday
Part 28

Chapter 10: Saturday Still.
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32

Chapter 11: Saturday Evening
Part 33
Part 34

Part 35: Archives: The Resistance

Chapter 12: Sunday Morning
Part 36
Part 37

Chapter 13: Sunday Still
Part 38
Part 39

Chapter 14: Sunday Afternoon
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43

Epilogue: Three Months Hence
Part 44
Part 45
Part 46

Monday, September 16, 2013

The City Beneath: The Game

I finally decided to post the third part of my series on The City Beneath. In preparation to write this, I was just re-reading a few excerpts from the novel. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I want to share it with as many people as want to read it. There are a few ways I can do this. Easiest, I can make it available in all it's Alpha version glory for you to read on your e-reader device. 

The other option is to serialize it and post it in bits here on my blog. I tried doing this with my first novel, Singularity. The difference was that I was writing that and immediately posting it on the site. It fizzled when I couldn't keep up very well. The novel got finished, but I never finished posting it on the blog. With The City Beneath, I've already written it, so I would just give each bit a cursory edit and post maybe 1000 or 2000 words at a time here, maybe a couple of times a week. 

Anyway, let me know in the comments or on twitter if you'd be interested in a serialized version of The City Beneath.

The City Beneath: Part 3 - The Game
Awesome Logo by Ed Marriott

From the beginning, I wrote the novel with the intention of it being a companion to the game of the same name. I had made plans with my friends Ed (@EdPMarriott) and Jeremy (@jeremyvanman) to collaborate on the game and the novel. (An aside: If you're a creative person, surround yourself with other creatives. It does wonders for your art.) The plan was for me to write the novel, and each day, I would share my progress with them. For the first time, I was forced to make an outline for something I wrote. That was a good experience, though I'm not sure I will ever move away from discovery writing, or writing by the seat of my pants.

Ed and Jeremy came up with some great mechanics for a story-driven game. Our goal was to produce a semi-cooperative game. The first half of the game would be cooperative, where players work together to pull off a heist. The group could fail the first half and the game would end with everybody losing. If the players pull off the heist, you enter the second half of the game: The Getaway. Only one person will end up fleeing from the cops.

The catch is that things you did in the first half of the game will affect your ability to get away in the second half. Maybe you will benefit from holding back a card that you could have played to help the team during the heist. Maybe if you participate in a certain action during the heist, you can improve your abilities for the second half of the game.

Players would play as one of the characters from the book, and each would have a given skill-set based on their roles in the book's heist. The goal was to have a cooperative game where nobody trusts anybody else. Not dissimilar to how you feel when you play Battlestar Galactica.

Ed and Jeremy had developed a story line concept that I think is a real gem, allowing players to create scenarios that can be variable from one play to the next. They came up with some great ideas for dual-use cards. They also put together a great skills development system allowing players to improve their character throughout the game. I think the game they put together has some really solid elements that could definitely make for a really fun game.

As you may be able to tell from the speculative language, we didn't ever really get that idea to completion. There were some immensely high hurdles associated with the type of game we were working on. Other projects took priority for all of us, and the game sorta faded into the background.

Fast forward a few months. I decided that I wanted to revive the game and run with it. I got Jeremy and Ed's blessing to move on and borrow a few ideas from the design they had been working on. I decided to scale the game back significantly from the epic experience it had become. I also pretty much eliminated the cooperative aspect of the game, focusing instead on the getaway portion of the game.

The game is now an area control game with a lot of hidden information. The game takes place in the setting from the book, with 6 locations around the city that players visit in an effort to set themselves up for a getaway. Play happens over 7 days of a week. Each day, players will perform an available action, and then visit a location, leaving "Evidence" when they do so. Evidence represents a player's influence over a location, and in the end, determines which player will receive the points associated with that location. 1 or 2 cops will be walking a beat around the board, making locations unavailable when a cop is outside.

Locations
The value of the location is determined based on the "Heat" that the location has drawn. Each location starts with a high value, and that value decreases as the heat grows for a location. If a location gets too much heat, it becomes a liability, worth negative points. A location gains heat when two players choose to visit the same location on the same day. This also draws the nearest cop pawn to the location. Players also have several opportunities to play cards to tip off the cops to a location and add heat, though these are not revealed until the end of the game.
Tip Card
Tip Card



















Most information is hidden in the game. Players place their evidence tokens (value 0-3) face down on locations, so other players don't know how much was left. Players play their Tip cards face down, so other players don't know which locations were tipped off. All actions and location choices are made simultaneously. Skills will allow you to change all of these, however.

In addition to placing influence on a location, each location will allow a player to develop their skills, and improve the actions they can perform:

Player Mat
  • Hideout: +Strategy: View the tip cards played by other players, a number up to the level of your skill.
  • Bank: +Negotiation: Move a cop a number of spaces equal to your skill level
  • Boutique: +Charm: Choose a location after all others have chosen theirs. 
  • Clock Shop: +Gadgetry: Swap skill points between different skills.
  • Abandoned Building: +Burglary: View a number of evidence tokens equal to your skill level.
  • Race Track: +Dexterity: Move an evidence token from one location to another.
Hidden Agenda Cards
A Final skill that is available to everyone is to draw a plot card, which may have a Hidden Agenda or Bonus Action on it. Hidden agendas score points if the player accomplishes it, or loses points if they do not. Bonus actions allow them to take an action in addition to their normal action.













Bonus Action Cards

So that's where things are. The game plays up to 6 in about 45 minutes. Since the play is all simultaneous, it doesn't take significantly longer with more players than it does with fewer. I'm hoping to have this at Protospiel Milwaukee in a few weeks. If you'll be there, I'd love to play it with you and get your input.