Critical Futures

“Visa Riots” is a short story from the Trailing Edge project. This story happens several hundred years before the other stories in the project. This is part 6 of 6 7 parts. Read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. Enjoy!

“What do we do now?” Edwin asked when he was fully awake, still tired, but awake. He was still filthy, but he hadn’t slept well enough to care and there were more pressing concerns.

“I think we need to leave here,” Perr said, from another sofa on the other side of the door. She was still groggy but had been awake for several minutes. “I don’t want to be around when the owners come home and see this,” she said waving her hand over all remnants of their meal the previous night.

The riot had slowed over night, but there were still intermittent sounds from outside the door, as there had been all night. Edwin wasn’t even sure that it was even properly morning.

“Right, sis, but how,” Edwin said.

“Do you think they’ve opened the dome for venting?”

“We’re still hear aren’t we? So probably.”

“Do we know anything that might be useful. I don’t think there’s power here. I don’t have a terminal with me,” Edwin said, sitting up.

“It was coming toward the transport complex. It’s probably about this visa thing, I mean? What else?”

“Right. We still need to get out somehow, we could try and get out of the dome through the venting, but that’s a dead-end, probably.”

“I’m sure it’s safe out there. The Domes are more connivence than necessity at this point,” Perr said.

“Especially when the fucking city is on fire. If we get out of the dome, what’s to say that the next…”

“Right. The transport complex’s closed… didn’t Dad’s company have a little dock port? It’s still there, I’m sure there’s a trans–” Perr said, her voice trailing off. “–from this side, come on.” She jumped up and began to walk down the hallway toward one of the building linkages.

Edwin scooped up a couple of water bottles and a few snacks and followed her. “Wait, Perr, what the hell?”