Jericho Down

Chapter One

There was a faint click as the window-guard to Mark’s bedroom slid skyward at a preprogrammed rate. It took only moments for the covering to recede the twenty feet necessary and expose the wall of glass. It comprised the entire exterior portion of his room and the view was considered extremely desirable; living quarters obtainable only by few.

The brightness of the morning was barely visible through the polarized glass. Having delayed the appropriate seconds, the glass began to depolarize, allowing the sunlight to slowly increase in intensity, accompanied by a synchronized increase in music volume. Music designed to gently rouse the sleeper; it blended classical music with the sounds of nature. Yesterday was the sound of waterfalls, today the sounds of energetic birds. It was designed to be charming. This morning it was insufferable. The sound of an oversexed Meadowlark chirped incessantly as it seemed to circle Mark’s bed.

“Enough already!”

“Are you sufficiently awakened Mr. Crawford?” The synthetic voice was pleasantly feminine. However, coming from somewhere just above his head, the entire cacophony of nature and the insistence in the tone of Cobble’s words were too much to bear.

“Is it your goal to make my life miserable?”

“Sir?”

“Is it…oh, never mind! Yes, I’m sufficiently awake.” Mark twisted into as small a ball as possible and pressed a pillow over his head tightly with both hands. It had been a most unpleasant night. Nightmares continued to disrupt his sleep, lasting for weeks now.

“Mr. Crawford, you have exactly two hours before your Council meeting begins. Perhaps…a more vertical posture is desirable.”

“There are no meetings set for today.” Mark’s voice was barely audible from under the pillow. “Perhaps…your AI is suffering dementia.” It was a weak attempt at sarcasm. Before he even finished the next breath, Cobble’s retort came.

“Perhaps…you should have viewed your messages. You have two.”

Mark growled and sat up on the bed. Rubbing his eyes with his right hand, he stood and faced the window wall. “Go ahead, Cobble. Play the messages.”

“Of course Sir.”

The glass wall immediately glowed to life with the familiar visage of Mark’s father. Wade Crawford was still an imposing figure. The shock of flawlessly silver hair above his deeply furrowed brow and blue eyes gave him the dignified appearance of an elder statesman that he, in fact, was. Age had not diminished the power and force of will that had pushed the senior Crawford to the highest levels of city government. Some spoke of Mayor Crawford as ruthless and unforgiving of anyone who opposed him, even in trifling matters. This troubled Mark to hear. He knew they didn’t describe the father he admired. Dad was strong and demanding, certainly, but not ruthless. The very nature of his calling required no less a man. Younger councilmen visibly took a moment of pause before crossing paths with the Mayor. At times, Mark was disturbed by the apparent fear some had for his father. Maybe a little fear was needful however, even if not warranted.

“Son, I’ve called an emergency meeting of the Council for tomorrow morning. The issues we discussed have escalated to a point that we just can’t wait any longer. Information has been leaked. Only my immediate staff has access, so I’m in the process of uncovering who’s the mole. Anyway, we’ll convene at 9:00 a.m. and have to let the details shake out as they will. Damn it! We’re going to look flat-footed on this. We’ll need all the current projections on the Desalt problems. Everyone is going to try to exaggerate the severity of this, so make sure you can respond. It’s important to stress the drinking water is in no danger. You know the drill by now, so if you have any questions, hold your water until we meet tomorrow. Pun intended. We need to keep this in the family, so to speak, for now.”

The glass wall darkened.

“Would you like to see your second message now Sir?”

“Go ahead, and I’ll also need an idea of commute time for this early meeting. The ped-ways and walk-ramps are going to be murder this time of the morning.”

The glass wall glowed back to life. The gnarled face that snapped into focus would have been easier to stomach later in the day. Much later. Councilman Quinn’s bony cheeks and sunken eyes filled the entire wall. Pictures of the ancient mummies held more life and breath and character.

Mark wondered if Quinn knew how he looked hovering with his face so close to the video lens. It would be excusable if Quinn were ignorant of the technology or feeble of mind. He was neither. Mark concluded it was calculated and deliberate. Everything Quinn did was to intimidate those around him. Mark had to admit that it was effective. Quinn’s pair of dead eyes towering above him made his stomach knot.

“Crawford, I won’t tolerate being in the dark any longer! I can’t perform my duties, nor represent my district while you continue to avoid giving my staff the information they require. Are you so naïve as to believe you can withhold a Level Two emergency alert for your personal attention? I’ll be at your suite at 8:00 in the morning. I will have my questions answered. Afterward, I will allow you to accompany me to the Council chambers.”

The image ended as abruptly as it began. Mark momentarily stood still, eyes locked on the screen as it began to depolarize once again, allowing the outside world to intrude. Warmth and brightness of the sunlight soon interrupted his reverie. There was no point in anger toward Quinn’s abrasive nature, and there was always the comforting thought that Quinn wasn’t long for this world anyway.

Time, or the lack of a sufficient amount of it, was now Mark’s most pressing enemy. He turned and quickly began the familiar routine of gathering clothing suitable for the council meeting, which was always a formal affair. Council meetings were, for the most part, arrogance and egos run rampant. Councilmen, their staff, and the ever-present media courted, preened, and speared each other in a ballet Mark found to be increasingly disgusting. Mark couldn’t help wondering if he were too young to be so jaded. Most councilmen were much older than his twenty-eight years.

“Cobble, do you have a clue on Quinn’s arrival time?”

“Sir? His message stated 8:00 a.m.. What do you…”

“I heard what he said; please check with Transportation and see when he is scheduled for pick-up. I want to know exactly how much time I have. If he’s true to form, he’ll be early to put me on the defensive. He’s one old fossil I’d like to stay ahead of.”

“I’m checking now, Sir.”

Mark laid out his new suit jacket and slacks across the end of the bed. His choice of clothing was always conservative compared to the others of the council. A traditional black suit and white shirt would be today’s frail attempt at camouflage. Not being the focus of attention would be just fine for Mark today. His report would undoubtedly fuel a fervor and media blitz that Mark would give almost anything to avoid. There would be little chance of that. In a city whose collective pursuits focused on exploitation and titillation of the senses, the potential was explosive. Mark would try his best to serve the bad news up cold.

“Mr. Crawford…you will have to use an alternate route to the Council Chambers. All on-ramps to ped-ways Ashlan and Millbrook are heavily congested. I’m printing the route that shows your best options. However, there is a complication. Councilman Quinn has already been picked up by Transportation. His shuttle is about to depart. Arrival will be in approximately twenty two minutes.”

“I knew it! That old buzzard! So much for even a quick shower. I can’t believe I’m going to be skewered and roasted without at least a shower first! Someday I’d like to return the favor!”

“I’ll be sure and remind you, Sir.”

Mark hurriedly groomed himself at his bathroom sink. He tried to avoid looking in the mirror at the dark circles under his eyes to no avail. His restless night of dreams weighed heavily on him this morning.

He started referring to them as The Dreams shortly after they began. How many months had it been…three? Four? It felt much longer. They were so strange, so compelling, and so real. Terrifyingly real. The sounds of tearing metal and screams, vaguely recognizable, rung in his ears. Were they his own screams? And then the feeling of falling…tumbling without end. Each time he jerked wildly awake, clawing at the air above him. The feelings of oppression afterwards took much longer to subside.

Mark knew he needed relief, and soon, but how many times had he thought the same thing, and yet did nothing? Certainly a doctor could be found that he could trust; a psychologist that wouldn’t sell him out to the media or someone like Quinn. Being the only son of the Mayor and a councilman himself, made Mark wary of exposure, of the relentless media spin. Loyalty wasn’t easily found in a city consumed with personal pleasures and ruthless advancement. He would have to force himself to trust someone though, and soon.

Mark finished dressing and stood in front of his full-length mirror, turning first one way, then the other. Not his best look, but he liked his choice of tie. The jacket could use some taking in, but it was acceptable. There was no time to worry about it now.

A mellow series of tones announced someone was at the door.

“Mr. Crawford, the old fossil has arrived. Would you like for me to let the buzzard in?”

Cobble’s voice mimicked Mark’s, but with an unmistakable female quality. Her comments were exaggerated and loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment. Mark, stunned, stopped on his way to the door.

“Cobble! What are you thinking! You can’t….” Mark’s expression was as if stricken, eyes wide and voice incredulous.

“Yes, yes, I know. Proper decorum. I promise. Once the door opens, I’ll behave. Trust me.”

“Switch to my personal audio, Cobble!” Mark shook his head in exasperation and continued to the door.

Cobble made a ‘tisk, tisk’ sound before answering, “Certainly, Sir.”

As Mark continued toward the door he heard a series of clicks, then a tone within his ear that confirmed the transfer had taken place. Paper-thin implants behind both ears were connected directly to Mark’s middle ear. They were primarily intended for use during the multitude of council and committee meetings, allowing his staff to feed him information and audio support privately. Mark was thankful he’d had the implants, they proved to be indispensable tools. Redirecting Cobble’s comments away from guests was an unexpected perk.

Mark paused as he reached the door. He drew himself up as tall as possible with a deep breath and clenched fists. He expelled the extra air and touched the lighted circle next to the door. The door slid to the right without a sound. The doorway filled immediately with the bulk of a man that strode forward without waiting for an invitation, brushed past Mark, and then did a quick scan of the apartment. He was followed in short order by Quinn and two aids. The apparent bodyguard, now satisfied the apartment secure, turned back toward the entry and announced, “Councilman Quinn, all clear.” He took position at the closing door.

As Quinn made his way past the muscled brute, Mark couldn’t help noticing the disparity of the two. Quinn’s bent posture and slow movements added to the difference of size and vitality between the two. Yet both were powerful in their own right, and Mark smiled thinking, Who’s the more powerful, the attack dog, or the master holding the chain?

His attention turned to the two aids, one being a balding man of about forty, the other a woman with short dark hair and pouting lips with a glossy burgundy sheen. She was beyond just attractive. Mark had to force his attention to Quinn as he approached, saying, “I’m sorry if we’re a little early Crawford. Are we disturbing you?”

Mark held out his hand to Quinn and was about to reply, when Quinn turned slightly and angled pointedly away and continued toward the window wall. Rebuffed, Mark slid both hands deeply into the pockets of his slacks. “No, but the day is still young.” Quinn appeared not to hear the quip and stood staring out the window without speaking. Mark turned again to the aids who stopped just inside the entry.

“Do your aids have names Councilman, or do I just assign them my own?” Mark struggled to maintain civility, but anger would not be suppressed. He knew on one level that this reaction was exactly what Quinn wanted, but that realization did little to quell the feelings.

“They can introduce themselves,” Quinn said, speaking into the window. After a moment’s hesitation, the young woman stepped toward Mark quickly. Her expression showed she didn’t like the position her boss just threw her in. She shot an angry glance at Quinn’s backside. Her eyes returned to Mark’s as she held out her hand.

“I’m Stephanie Long,” she said smiling. “I’m very pleased to finally meet you. I’ve been following your work on the Engineering Committee; very impressive.”

Mark took her hand in his and gripped it firmly as they shook. Her hand was soft and pleasantly warm. He wondered what could possibly draw Stephanie to work for someone like Quinn. “Thank you Ms. Long, that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Please, call me Stephanie.” She smiled broadly. She turned and motioned toward the balding man. “This is John DePalma. He is Mr. Quinn’s special assistant.” The two men shook hands briefly. DePalma nodded his head, but said nothing.

“You didn’t mention your duties for the councilman, Stephanie,” Mark stated, more than happy to return the focus back to her. “What brings you here this morning?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Chief of Research and Project Coordinator for District 5.” She lowered her voice and added, “Why I’m here, I’m not quite sure.”

“I see.” Mark said looking at Quinn’s backside, then back to the brute at the entry. “And the bulldog at the door, Stephanie. What does he answer to?”

“Rex…,” she began, interrupted by a growing chuckle from Mark.

“Rex? Really? How convenient! Bow-wow.” Mark continued to chuckle until the glower from Rex caught his attention. He forced himself back to a level of civility, but the smile on Stephanie on understanding what he meant was hard to ignore. He could get lost in that smile.

“Rex Randolph. He’s the Councilman’s bodyguard.”

Cobble’s voice chimed in Mark’s ear with, “Be careful Sir, he looks hungry. Better throw him a bone…”

“If you’re quite through with the chit-chat, join me at the window Mr. Crawford.”

Stephanie’s face became solemn. She moved to the sofa and sat; DePalma joined her, sitting on the opposite end. Mark hesitated long enough to make a point to Quinn that he wasn’t about to jump at his every whim. Instead, Mark walked to the serving counter and poured himself a cup of steaming coffee. He offered Stephanie and Mr. DePalma coffee, they both declined. Quinn would have to ask for his own.

“I’m pleased that you’re enjoying my view Councilman. Most visitors agree that it’s probably the best in the city. Since I’ve never been invited to your suite, I can’t really compare the two though, can I? Being that you’re in District 5, I imagine your view to be more southward.” Mark glanced at the wall clock. There really wasn’t time for the usual swordplay. A few more parries might be enjoyable another time, however it was necessary to move on. “You didn’t come to discuss my view Councilman, so why don’t you join us at the sofa and get to the point. We all have a great deal to do today.”

“Oh, on the contrary Mr. Crawford. The view from your window in particular frames the very reason for this visit. In fact, from this window I see even more reason for believing you’re withholding critical information. It’s obvious you haven’t looked out today.”

Something about the tone in Quinn’s voice drew everyone except Rex to the window. Stephanie let out a gasp. DePalma turned to Mark wide-eyed and demanded, “What does this mean? What’s going on!”

The panoramic view was breathtaking. Below, the white sand of a curving beach stood in stark contrast to the blue-green ocean. Waves could be seen clearly, beating against the shoreline in a vain attempt to reach the land beyond. It was almost possible to make out individual trees on the fringes of the greenery inland. Farther away, the terrain rose into distinct rolling foothills, the lower portions being obscured by fog.

The problem, the stark and frightening aspect that affected everyone, was that the land and sea were terrifyingly close. The scene, the details, should not have been visible. Not now. Not ever. Not during the day. The city was within perhaps a thousand feet of the ocean’s surface. Jericho should be higher, much higher.

Mark was the first to regain his composure. The original operational documents stated that the city cycled down to within five hundred feet of the Pacific Ocean every couple of weeks. His staff had uncovered that much from the ancient archives. That was normal; the automated systems lowered Jericho in order to replenish the water supply, but cycling down during the day was unheard of for many reasons. The view of land and water had never been seen by anyone in Jericho like this, until now.

Mark knew there would now be no more secret research into the Desalt problems. No more time to find solutions unfettered by committees and probing eyes. No more time to prepare answers and options that could give his political career a boost to last a lifetime. He had squandered a chance to establish his own successes apart from Dad’s legacy. No time to finally put his doubters in their place once and for all.

“Answer me! You know, don’t you! We wouldn’t be here if the Councilman didn’t think you knew something!” DePalma was rapidly hyperventilating. His face was crimson and his pulse now visible on his neck.

A rapid thud of footsteps brought Rex to Mark’s side. The sudden panic that had engulfed the room was infectious. Rex was hot with fever before he even reached the window. Rex ‘s face blanched, his face so close to the window, fog formed on the glass from his breath.

“We’re going into the ocean, aren’t we? We’re going to die!” DePalma was barely able to rasp out his terror.

“Of course not! We’re not in any danger. The City functions completely automatically. It’s no different than your own body. Do you have to think about taking a breath, or every beat of your own heart? Your body knows what it needs and takes care of it. The city must sense our water reserves are low and is taking care of it. No fanfare, no applause, it’s just doing what it’s supposed to do!”

“Liar!” Rex’s fever broke into a fury. He grasped Mark’s shirt in his left hand in one fluid motion, jerking upwards, propelling Crawford into the glass wall violently. Stars burst in Mark’s eyes and his vision tunneled. Rex raised a huge clenched fist to strike a blow.

“No! Rex, please, don’t do it. He’s right. I’ve been on this for days. We’re okay. You’re okay. Rex, please listen to me!” Stephanie stood next to Rex now, both of her hands gently holding his forearm. She spoke rapidly to him in soothing whispers. “Listen to me…look at me Rex. Look at me.” She slid her left hand up to rest on Rex’s shoulder. The movement broke his concentration and he turned to look into her eyes.

“Let him go Randolph!” Quinn ordered. Rex released Mark’s shirt, Mark crumpled against the wall. Rex backed up a few steps and turned to Quinn. “He’s lying through his teeth! He knows there is something terribly wrong! Only a fool would believe that garbage.”

“Only a fool would put me in the position you just did!” Quinn was enraged. “Back off and get back to where you belong!” Rex didn’t move. He looked from Mark against the wall, to Stephanie, then to DePalma. His eyes returned to Quinn and they locked momentarily. “You’re right, I’m sorry Sir.” He returned slowly to the entry.

“So, this is what we’ve come to Quinn?” Mark slowly stood and began straightening his clothes. “Why ask questions when you can just knock the answers out of me first? Is it time now for diplomacy by other means? Take your goons and get out of here.”

“I’m sorry for what has happened Crawford. Please accept my most profound apologies. Sometimes emotions can get away from the best of us. I am compelled to point out that, had you fulfilled your duties as Chairman of the Engineering Committee, this would never have happened. In spite of the little misunderstanding, I must insist on full disclosure. What exactly has your research uncovered…”

“I’ll give you credit for tenacity, but do you really think I’ll tell you anything now? Before the council meeting? You’ll get your questions answered at the same time as everyone else. Now get out, I have to change.”

“Very well. The day is young Mr. Crawford after all, like you said. Let’s hope you can keep such a positive attitude with the rest of the council as well. Come on people, let’s go.”

Rex took the lead and pressed the lighted button at the entry. The door slid open and he stepped into the doorway. He looked to the right, the hallway was clear. When he looked to the left, the door closed on him violently, catching him squarely on the shoulder, forcing his head to strike the doorframe. The door rebounded open, and Rex struck wildly at it with a foot, but missed as it disappeared into the wall. He cursed before storming into the hallway and was gone. The remainder of the group stepped gingerly through the opening, wary of the same fate.

Mark walked back into the kitchen and pulled two bags of frozen peas from the freezer. One he placed against his chin which was already swelling, the other on the back of his head. He walked to the sofa and sat down.

“Do you want to explain that door thing to me Cobble? What was that all about?”

“Did he not hurt you…tear your shirt?”

“Still…we should probably not boot our esteemed guests out of our home. Besides, I was just about to put Mr. Bow Wow on his ear. I had him under control you know.”

“I noticed that.”

“You’re programmed to serve, not attack Cobble. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Protect and serve…you only Sir. Do you require a doctor?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I think your AI is off track though. It’s leading you down a rocky path lately. Maybe I should run some diagnostics on you later, after the meeting. You’re getting more twisted every day.”

“Thank you Sir. I’m sure I can override the safety features on the door next time. I’m just not sure the actuator is strong enough.”

“You worry me Cobble.”

“I’m fine…really.”

© Copyright 2025 Derek Atkins. All rights reserved.