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Take a ride on the Dawnrunner in the not-to-distant future. |
I’m running for the elevator because I forgot to set the alarm on my new phone. When I finally get to my floor there is a ton of paperwork on my desk from yesterday that didn’t get done because I was off celebrating my birthday. I want to be more annoyed about that but all I can think about is telling my friends at work about my trip, if Rachel hasn’t beaten me to it. I have been best friends with the long-legged stick of crazy I call Rachel Sheers for as long as I can remember. Growing up together I came to think of her as my sister, and it was her strength that kept me sane through university. The only time we’ve ever seriously fought was over the decision to become SRs. Rianne Wilkins, my boss, comes out of her office and it’s clear from the smile on her face that she already knows. She congratulates me then starts on a prepared speech about how cruel it is that two of her lab technicians are leaving her when she’s so busy. Rachel is nowhere to be seen so she must be on the next floor down getting started on today’s tests. I take the stairs to save energy. Inside Rachel is in full swing with her equipment – she must have been here since six. At least three machines big enough to fit a person inside are humming away loudly. The room itself is under-furnished: apart from the scanners there is barely enough room for a table and chairs. All the information is automatically sent up to my level for analysis. I walk slowly through the narrow passages in case I crash into someone coming around the corner. “Marco!” I shout as reach the centre of the room. “Polo!” comes Rachel’s voice from the back. From the sound of it she’s playing with the new addition. Rounding the last machine I see her talking to one of the new interns. She’s a thin girl called Isis, with thick glasses and short hair. She’s doing some accelerated course, totally GE funded. It looks like Rachel is giving her a list of tests to run that will take her the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week. Isis’ head is nodding so fast I think her glasses are going to fall off. When they’re finished she practically runs past me, furiously trying to make sense of the notes she’s been given. “What was all that about?” I ask, tapping my head in the direction of the fleeing assistant. “What?” Rachel has her hands in the air, the image of innocence. “Ok, I had a brainstorm last night after your party. If I can recalibrate the sensors on the new resonance scanner maybe I can prove just how much progress we could make with live samples!” How does she get this enthusiastic by 8am? “You’ll never get them,” I remind her. “No one outside of Sydney has ever even seen them.” “I know,” she says, pouting theatrically. “But maybe if I can show them how important the work we’re doing down here is…” her voice trails off, following her mind on its wandering tangent. “Speaking of the work you’re doing, I think having an assistant agrees with you.” I chase my sly comment with a tight smirk. “Isis knows what she’s doing. She’s in that one-track program they came out with a few years back. Remember? Undergrad to PhD is one course?” My eyes try to take in the complicated controls of the new scanner as I play my half of the conversation. “How do you think she’s affording that?” “She’s not.” Rachel’s attention is fading faster than mine: this’ll be a short chat. “It’s all GE. She’s going to be SR for life or something.” I shudder involuntarily. Rachel knows I don’t particularly enjoy being registered as SR, but it’s not something we talk about very often. She would hate to hear what I think about being locked in it for life. Luckily for me she’s too hooked on her shiny new toy to notice. “I’d better get back upstairs before Rianne thinks I’ve quit my job. Meet me for lunch?” “Sure, 1:00?” “Yeah, great,” I answer. See you at 1:30, I think to myself. Rachel never arrives on time. At quarter to two the mess of red hair and boundless energy that is Rachel rushes through the cafeteria. “Are you excited about the trip?” she asks as the stack of papers she’s carrying lands with a flourish on the table. “Overwhelmed, more than anything,” I reply, opting for the rarely-used honesty card. She smiles her all-knowing all-confident smile. “It’ll be fine. It’s just like it says in the letter: total protection.” “Is that what you told Vincent?” I’m dying to ask where he was hiding for so long during my party, but Rachel looks like she’s struggling with something. “I think Vince wants to tell me not to go. He’s scared it’s not safe or something.” “He would never do that. He knows how much it means to you, to both of us.” She nods her head and tries the smile again. “Yeah, you’re right. And I know he would come with us if he could afford it.” “It won’t be the same without him. I still can’t believe we’re going at all.” “It was your mum’s idea. Apparently she’s been saving for it since you were ten or something. But I’m not supposed to tell you that.” “It’s a good thing you’re so good at keeping secrets then!” We both laugh and she disappears to get some food. I pull out the phone from Vince and open the new files. Inside is a list of dates the Dawnrunner is travelling. From the looks of it the train only leaves the Adelaide station once every three months. Rachel arrives back with a sandwich, a soft drink and some yogurt, which she passes to me. As she starts eating I show her the list of dates. “The next train leaves in three weeks. I think that’s the one we should go on.” She nods her head, her mouth full of chicken. “Who else is going?” she finally manages. I look through the list of names. Next to each is a link to their public profiles, but I don’t click on any of them. “There’s a few other passengers like us from the looks of it, like these two: a man and a woman. I think it’s a honeymoon.” “Oh, romantic!” I ignore her and keep reading. “There’s a lot of scientists, all SRs. Their assignment details are all classified though. The rest are service crew for the train and… whoa.” “What is it?” She’s curious but is looking at her morning test notes instead of me. “The military crew… there’s like a hundred names here.” “Seriously? Let me see.” She leans over and scans the small screen with me. I flick through the list with my thumb, watching dozens of names with abbreviated ranks fly past. Rachel’s interest vaporises as quickly as it appeared. “I guess they need all that,” she says, “to protect us.” I scroll through the names to the bottom of the page, and I’m not surprised when I don’t see anyone I recognise. Vince says he has some friends who stayed in the military after the change, but I don’t. I was too young to even remember the dissolution of the old army and the creation of the MRs. “Rachel, do you ever worry that we’re going to get sent on assignment?” Her eyes are moving from one test result to the next so fast I can’t work out if she’s actually reading them. “Not at the moment,” she replies, distracted. “They’ll wait until we get doctorates at least.” “Do you ever think of dropping out of SR?” This is dangerous territory with Rachel, but looking at the list of names for the train is stirring up old worries in me. Rachel closes her book and looks straight at me – damn she’s intimidating when she does that. “Carli, we’ve been through this, a hundred times at least. The GE is paying for everything: your school, medical, everything! If you go General that’ll all stop.” “There’s always public health, and student loans… it’s not all bad.” “You want to have a baby someday in a public hospital? And what about your house?” Here it comes, the trump card. I brace myself. “If you go General you’ll never own your mum’s place. Only SRs and MRs can own property on the island.” I give myself a dirty look for opening the subject up again. To my surprise Rachel changes to a softer tone and tries something new. “Listen, Carliah. Maybe after this trip you won’t worry so much about being sent on assignment. You’ll see that the Dawnrunner is safe and that even if they do call you it will be ok.” I close the list and put the phone in my bag, content with the amount of trouble it’s caused for one lunch hour. “I just don’t want to have to leave my family, or you, or Vince. Some of those assignments they give the SRs last for months, or even years. Rianne said she got sent away when her daughter was 2, and by the time she got back she was nearly five.” “Every time Rianne tells that story that girl of hers gets older at the end,” she replies with a sly tone. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but the way Rachel says it makes me laugh a little. She takes my hand as she finishes. “Sweetie, it’s ok. This isn’t an assignment we’re going on. We ride out, see the sun, and come home. Two months, tops.” “And your research can survive that long without you?” It’s an easy jab: I make up for being a soft target most of the time by getting back at Rachel over work. “Are you kidding? You know they can’t run this place without me!” By the time lunch is over we’re both laughing and my worries about the trip are tucked away in a draw in my head. |
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