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The City That Never Sleeps
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1.
The man in the long trenchcoat stepped onto the train platform. His sunglasses were the only thing that set him apart from his fellow passengers. They were inappropriate: it was 8 PM and night had fallen. He passed a sign on the platform that echoed a title once held by New York. WELCOME TO SOMNOPOLIS – the sign read – THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS. “Only because New York City was destroyed,” the man in the dark sunglasses said as he passed the sign. Although he was planning what could be a lengthy stay in Somnopolis, he carried only a small brown leather satchel and a slim black briefcase. Both contained items he could not do without. Exiting the station, the man in the trenchcoat and sunglasses waited. Overhead, the metal underbelly of the train station looked like the exposed bones of some massive discarded machine. He reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He waited until the crowd of passengers had thinned out. He lifted his lenses for a moment and lit the cigarette simply by staring at it. Scott Summers waited. He had an appointment with the prince of the underworld. He didn’t have to wait long. 2. A white limousine pulled up to the curb in front of the train station, looking as bright and shiny as the day it rolled out of the factory. Scott Summers didn’t need to ask; he knew it was for him. He flicked his cigarette butt, then reached for the door handle. A window rolled down on the limousine. “We frown on litterbugs here in the Sleepless City,” said a rich voice from within. Scott Summers lifted his sunglasses. His strange eyes glowed and a thin, almost invisible beam of light incinerated the cigarette butt. “Impressive,” commented the owner of the rich voice as Scott got in. The driver agreed. “A regular one man trash fire.” Scott didn’t say a word. He continued to wait. In the meantime he looked out the window at the cityscape rolling by. The silence was broken when the prince of the underworld, who was sitting up front next to the driver, decided to speak again. “Your arrival was noted… then again, I imagine you knew it would be.” Another pause. “What are you doing back in Somnopolis, Mr Summers?” The man in the trenchcoat turned his attention on the speaker. He removed his glasses. His metal eyes focused and refocused, confirming what he had suspected. According to the sophisticated and sensitive cybernetic devices, there were only two people in the car, not three. Either the man was a hologram , or the mechanical sensors had been rigged not to pick him up. Scott Summers didn’t answer his question. The prince of the underground was dressed in an eggshell white jacket with matching pants. His shirt was a pale yellow. At his throat he wore a knotted yellow tie that was easily the brightest color in the car. He had a diamond stick pin in his tie and matching cufflinks. On the small finger of his left hand he wore a heavy gold ring. Like Scott, he wore sunglasses, although it was night. The glasses were black, like his slicked-back hair. The man was a study in contrasts. Unlike Scott, who wore colors that tried to blend in with the cityscape, the crime king of Somnopolis wore colors that tried to make him seem to blaze like a morning star. Warren Worthington had been something of a prodigy. Scion to a wealthy family and heir to a fortune, he had bankrolled so many arts programs in New York that he had become known as The Angel of Broadway. When it became known that he had used many of those same institutions to launder funds from a variety of criminal enterprises, he had become disinherited and bankrupted. This only led him more fully into crime. Like everything else he tried, he found that he was good at it. After several minutes of riding through the city in silence, it was the man in white who spoke again. “I see the eyes I gave you are still working,” he said. As the car rolled into the center of town, The Angel added, in a voice that was almost sympathetic, “…I’m sorry about Jean, Scott. I truly am. If I had known she was in New York when the bomb went off, I would have warned her as well…” “Save your breath,” Scott Summers said. The limousine stopped. The door opened automatically. He got out. The window rolled down again. The interior of the limousine seemed somehow darker than it should have been. The rich voice, stated flatly what could have been a warning: “Somnopolis is different than New York, Scott. Soon, you’re going to see how different. When you start to figure that out, come see me.” He added, almost offhandedly: “I might have a job for you by then.” Scott Summers walked onto the crowded streets of the City That Never Sleeps. 3. The buildings in downtown Somnopolis all looked like they were teetering, about ready to fall on top of one another. While some of the steel and glass edifices tapered gracefully, others were built like reverse ziggurats, the topmost level being broader than the ground level. Because of this, the eye had a hard time discerning perspective. Scott Summers took a gander at the gathered inhabitants. Although it was late at night, there seemed to be more residents on the street than there should have been. “Doesn’t anybody sleep around here?” he wondered aloud. Normal human beings walked side by side with mutants, adults with children. There were the usual group of street vendors and prostitutes hawking their wares. Across the street, a blue-skinned mutant with a German accent was busy hawking something different “We must all awaken!” the street preacher cried. “There is a beast within all of us!” Somnopolis’ crazy architecture and latter-day inhabitants were a result of the second phase of its growth. The city’s name and initial residents were senior citizens. Somnopolis was billed as more than just a retirement home, it was a retirement centre. So many people gravitated to the quiet city that the infrastructure and support personnel needed grew by leaps and bounds. The real estate moguls who had developed the concept (and not coincidentally bought out all the surrounding real estate) found themselves wealthy beyond their wildest projections, they knew it would soon be time to sell before their profits decreased. And when the disaster that befell New York City happened and there was a massive increase in the population of the Somnopolis, they knew that the time had come. And so Somnopolis became incorporated as a new township and began its growth into a full-fledged city. Along the way it acquired politicians, new buildings and businesses… and crime. Scott Summers, the latest visitor to the City That Never Slept (which was originally a marketing catch phrase for the nursing home, indicating that the staff was always available and activities were twenty four hours a day), didn’t want to think about New York. He had lost more than his fiancée. He had lost his lover, the life that he knew, and all hope for a family he might have ever had. “Jean…” Scott whispered. A tear welled up in his eye and he hated himself for that. It was three years ago and more. The tear coursed down his cheek. Wiping it away, he inadvertently bumped into one of the Somnopolitans. “Excuse me,” he said. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the man replied gruffly. The man had dirty pale skin, greasy brown hair, and a very ripe scent. He looked to be homeless. He was also very obviously blind, although he didn’t walk with the aid of a cane. Scott didn’t feel any sort of compassion or pity for the man. “I SAID ‘excuse me’,” he replied in a rough tone. “Whatever,” the man said rudely, then kept on walking. He continued on his way across the street. The light was red, but incredibly the blind man made it across in one piece, with only the waving fists and screeching breaks of drivers to mark his passing. He was quickly lost in a crowd, seemingly absorbed by the residents. “This town is full of crazies,” Scott commented. “Repent!” the preacher said across the street. He seemed to be looking right at Scott when he said it. “I might,” Scott answered. “After I’m done.” 4. The Somnopolis Observatory, unlike most others of its kind, was not located away from the city and the lights which would interfere with an observer’s viewing of the stars in the night sky. It was unique also in that it was private venture. The observatory did not belong to a university, did not publish its findings, and did not have to answer to a board of directors or any shareholders; the observatory in fact was beholden to only one person. It was that person that Scott Summers had come to see. He walked to the waterfront and found the observatory’s main door to be opened. He was under no illusions that this was always so. The door closed quietly behind him. Scott Summers waited in the foyer for his host. He observed the usual museum clutter of classic statuary, antique furniture and even older tomes. Unlike other similar buildings, the collection of fancy bric-a-brac looked as if it was thrown together randomly, to give the semblance of something, rather than being the thing itself. It was a superficial representation, a movie set. Soon, Scott Summers heard the slight whisper of silk on marble and knew that his hostess had arrived. Scott turned from admiring a dented and dusty astrolabe behind a glass case to face the formidable woman before him. She was a small woman, petite but wiry. She had on an elegant silk robe of a rich dark-green color, and walked bare footed. She looked up at Scott with wary eyes. Scott made a slight bow then gave her his hand. “Thank you for seeing me.” She kept her big eyes on Scott, unblinking. “You still want me to find this man for you” She said. It was not a question. Scott nodded. He made a conscious effort not to clench his jaws or frown. Around Moondragon it was best to try and remain as inscrutable as she was. “I want to know if what The Angel told me was true.” Scott Summers answered calmly. “Let us go upstairs,” Moondragon responded. Summers was aware of the stories that circulated about the lady before him. As the two of them entered a lift which took them to the roof of the building, he was beginning to believe more than a few of them. The elevator had no buttons, and – Scott believed – no machinery to hoist it upward. Looking at his hostess he guessed that its means of operation lay within her. “This is where I come to view the stars,” Moondragon announced. The topmost floor of the building held a huge telescope that even at a cursory glance looked not have been used in a long time, if ever. To the left of the elevator bay was a curving metal stairway that he imagined reached all the way to the first floor of the building. Moondragon looked at Scott inspecting the place and allowed herself a small smile. She closed here eyes and suddenly the lights went out on the floor. The curved ceiling overhead became at first opaque, then completely dark. Suddenly above them there were stars. Huge fat blinking stars which looked close enough to burn them and cloudy nebulae which looked close enough to get lost in. There was a vertiginous shifting of their stellar landscape and suddenly the starscape seemed more familiar to Scott. There was a strange bright object moving among the accustomed stars and planets. Moondragon’s voice seemed to travel through the cold void of space to find Scott. He couldn’t honestly say, however, whether her voice was in his head or in his ears. “This object has been spotted by several astronomers over the past few years. No one knows exactly what it is, but all they can say for certain is that it seems headed in the direction of Earth.” Suddenly there was a bright flash from the luminous object and a tiny object, perhaps a meteor, broke free from the main body. The second object lost its luminosity and became invisible. “About three years ago, a piece of the larger asteroid seemed to have come loose and possibly either burnt up or was caught up in the gravity of the nearest planet, which was Uranus.” The luminous shapes overhead changed again and became more numerous and ordered. Scott discovered that he was looking at a city’s lights as viewed overhead. The view from an airplane at night, perhaps. Moondragon’s voice continued to speak. “Cities are as fantastic and as mysterious as stars. Like the stellar bodies, they have their natural lifespans. Sometimes they die spectacular deaths, spreading disturbance through time and space.” “Sometimes their births are equally as mysterious,” Moondragon continued. “Take Somnopolis. It began as a retirement community, did you know that?” Scott nodded. “Most people do. But did you know that the city’s fantastic growth in the last few years has been attributed to one man? No one really knows who he is, but he’s put a lot of his own money into the growth of the city and its infrastructure. This mysterious benefactor is purportedly the head of a dozen development boards and real estate consortia, and the silent partner in about twenty others.” Scott didn’t have the time for the vagaries of Somnopolis’ urban development and he told her so. “You’ve told me what you want,” Moondragon said after a moment’s silence. “But you haven’t told me why you want it.” “You know the answer to that, oracle,” Scott Summers replied. “Because of what happened in New York? You hold him responsible?” Scott Summers nodded. “Because of what happened in New York. Yes, I hold him responsible.” Scott bit off every syllable as he spoke, like a dog chewing a bone. “That’s been some time now…” “I spent that time tracking down what’s in that satchel.” “Is it still that important to you to find this man, even after all this time?” She wondered. “Is what’s in that satchel important to you?” Scott asked her. Moondragon didn’t answer. Scott Summers knew what the satchel represented to her. A threat to her freedom. He intended to use that threat to full advantage. “It was as important to me as that is to you,” he explained. “I see…. And what will you do, when you find him, this man?” When Moondragon saw that there would be no answer forthcoming, she said: “Sometimes the yearning to hate someone is so powerful it can sustain you through difficult times. But hatred can destroy as well as sustain.” Scott nodded. “But there are certain tasks that, no matter how wrong they are in the long run, a person can just feel compelled to do.” Summers looked at Moondragon intently. Even though his eyes were mechanical, she could feel his gaze heavy upon her. Finally, she looked away. “I know something of your history, oracle,” Scott Summers said. “I know some of what you had to go through to get this place, to break free from the man who held you in bondage.” Moondragon became angry. “Nothing could ever be proven!” “That’s true,” Scott answered her. “Nothing could ever be proven – but there’s just enough circumstantial evidence that you would never be able to run this institution or practice your ‘astronomy’ in peace again. You would continue to be subject to whispers and rumors, possibly for the rest of your life.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Scott regretted them. It was some measure of his desperation that he had become so petty to resort to such tactics. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, or even to blackmail you. Everything I’ve managed to find is in that satchel. Take it. I need your help, that’s all. I knew what you could do, and I didn’t think you’d help me otherwise.” He looked away from her and concentrated on the map of the stars overhead. He decided to think about something else. Moondragon no longer seemed angry. Her outburst had been brief. Like everybody else that he had so far run into in Somnopolis, her anger hadn’t lasted long. Even Worthington, who had been a notorious criminal back in New York, had mellowed and become almost sophisticated. For some reason, Scott Summers again found himself thinking about the disheveled man he had literally run into on the street earlier. Now that man had seemed perennially pissed off… “…” Moondragon had said something, but he’d missed it. She handed him a slip of paper. Scott Summers’ heartbeat was so loud he thought sure she could hear it, but she gave no sign. He looked at the piece of paper. On it was an address. Scott hadn’t seen her write anything. He wondered – had she merely been prepared for this eventuality? Or had she foreseen the outcome of their little talk? Now that he had gotten what he sought, he thought it only right that he apologize. “I’m sorry for the threat, I promise I will make it up to you, when this is all over – ” “Really, Mr. Summers?” Moondragon asked sharply, arching her eyebrow. “And how will you do that? I had my piece of mind intact when you called me to request a meeting. Now both that, and my illusion of privacy, are gone. If you will forgive me, I think I will take my leave of you.” She turned her back to him and began to walk to a door on the far side of the chamber. She put her hand on the doorknob and the stars overhead went dark. “You can see yourself out,” Moondragon said frostily. “I’ve had enough of your presence for this evening.” As he half-suspected, the elevator was no longer working and he had to take the long curving stairwell down. By the time he reached the first floor Scott Summers was no longer abashed, but resolute. He had a man to find. 5. Once he stepped outside of the observatory, Scott Summers could relax. Well that went well, he thought. He heard the sound of a car’s engine coming to life. From the periphery of his mechanical vision he saw something ducking out of sight. He had the capability of rewinding to check, but he felt confident as to what he’d seen: a white limousine turning a corner. He was being followed by The Angel’s men. Let them follow him through Hell, because that was where he was going next. |
