MONSTEROPOLIS EPISODE 2:
Rock and A Hard Place

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Chapter 3

-Megaopolis Highway 4, Mile Post 246
-February 15th, 2096
-Account Subject: Samantha Aran

It was only when the voice on the dispatch radio startled me awake did I realize I was sleeping in the car. A brief look at Detective Croff let me know I’d probably been softly snoring or doing some other thing that she’d been thinking about kicking me out of the vehicle for. Mrs. McSwears-A-Lot was proving to have the worst disposition of anyone I’d ever worked with, and that was saying something indeed.

We were on the return trip from the apartment of our missing guy, Rocky Volnutt, who by appearances had been missing in some ways for a long time. This, however, was trumped by the situation being described by dispatch.

“…all units in the area are to converge, establish a safe distance and set up a cordon. Priority is civilian safety and evacuation. Repeat, priority one emergency reported at the construction site of the West Geodesic Animal Preserve, faulty equipment malfunction has endangered civilian lives and caused property damage. STC forces are en route, and all units in the area are to converge, establish a safe distance and set up a cordon.”

“Of all fuckin’ days,” Lara practically shouted to herself as she pulled the car off Highway 4 at the nearest exit. I rolled down my window and put what was casually referred to as ‘the cherry’ on top of the car. A flashing red light with a warning siren, it would ensure anyone that was paying attention would give us the room on the roads to make good time to the site of the emergency.

Not that anyone with eyes could miss the seventy story column of smoke that seemed to be pulling itself into the steel-grey sky from only a few dozen blocks away.

I picked up the radio receiver and clicked it on. “Dispatch actual, this is Officer Aran. Detective Croff and I are en route, but we’d like to know what we’re dealing with.”

The repeating message on dispatch was a recording, set to play to all idle radios within the broadcasting vicinity of the 117th precinct house. Contacting dispatch actual would put me in touch with the actual dispatch officer, who might have more information than a simple location. Maybe even something useful, like what could turn a glorified wildlife and forest reserve into so much ash and smoke.

There was a long pause before an answer came back. “Sorry Officer Aran,” came a feminine voice. “You know what I know, but my phone is ringing off the hook and I have the Sergeant chomping a cigar in my ear-“

“Who is this?” Lara demanded, grabbing the receiver from me and jerking the wheel to avoid a big rig all at once. I grabbed onto the dashboard with both hands.

“Dispatch Officer Caskett,” the voice replied after a minute. “Detective Croff, I’ve been asked to inform you that Detective Spencer is on his way as well, as are Lieutenant Fenix and Sergeant Duke Smith.”

“City Guard?” I wondered aloud. “Why the hell…?”

Lara, who’d been forced to stop the car by a traffic logjam, gestured wildly at the smoke tower, now much closer and more imposing. “Oh, I don’t fucking know, Aran. Maybe because of THAT?”

She clicked on the Radio again. “Tell Mark and Duke to get their asses down here double time! And tell Spencer I’m gong to need a ride home!”

With that, she hit the gas and swung the car out of the street and onto the sidewalk, squeezing between a van and a sport car and taking off my side’s door in the process. I swore out loud, but I can’t remember what I said, and held onto the center console as she honked the horn wildly. We must have hit ten or eleven trash cans before she cut in front of what was now ONCOMING traffic back onto the road and opened a protesting engine up to full power. We sailed down the road, now conspicuously absent of both people and cars.

We took another turn down a street and almost hit the poor bastard who’d been standing on this side of the hastily set up police line. The car jackknifed wildly as she hit the brakes and I didn’t even wait for her to take out the keys before I was out of the car, checking to make sure my heart hadn’t stopped.

“What the hell is going on?” Lara demanded as she got out of the vehicle. It made a sad groaning noise as it rocked on its taxed shocks. “Did we get bombed or something?”

“No ma’am.”

“Well? Then WHAT?”

The officer looked nervous. Well, less nervous and more like he was about to make a mess out of his pants. “The smoke is very thick, ma’am, and we’re not entirely sure. Near as I can tell, a nearby gas station went up in the ruckus, and the explosion collapsed a part of the dome and set some of the flora on fire. We’re trying to get it under control, but there’s a problem.”

“That being?” I asked, preempting Detective Croff’s next outburst.

“Well-” there was a tremendous crashing sound followed by metal on concrete. From around the corner of the next street, farther into the cordoned area, came an object that could have been a dump truck or semi at some point. It rolled to a pathetic stop and listed to one side, some of the smaller pieces falling off.

“Oh my fucking god,” Lara cried. “What the Jesus H. Tap-Dancing Christ is going ON?”

“It’s one of the Dozer units,” the officer explained. “It’s going on a very literal tear. We’re trying to keep it contained until something heavier arrives that can put it out of commission, but you can’t stop 85 tons of thinking construction equipment with standard issue weapons, ma’am.”

Dozer units were one of the first, most basic types of Intelligent Mechanical. Programmed to be outright unimaginative and very slow thinking, they responded well to instruction and positive reinforcement. While their bottom halves were the same tried-and-true tread assembly that all heavy construction vehicles have shared to a century, their upper halves were much more versatile, with a stout upper body, two arms that could be outfitted for a multitude of tasks, and a rather human-like head, which had been meant to give the Dozers something a foreman could talk to and get feedback from.

Of course, sometimes, smart things rebel.

Lara looked at the wreckage of the thrown vehicle, then at the officer, and then at the scrap heap of her own car. She heaved a sigh which almost made the poor man’s eyes bug out, and reach into her ruined vehicle to retrieve her miraculously unspilled coffee.

She took a sip. “Eh, fuck it. I don’t get paid enough for that. Let Mark Fenix and Duke Nuke ‘Em handle the fuckin’ thing.”

I frowned. “We should at least go in to look for any civilians in danger.”

“Be my fucking guest,” Lara smiled nastily. “You’re insured, right?”

I rolled my eyes and walked past the police line. I knew how to handle myself in a dangerous situation, and I didn’t need that bitchy bimbo looking over my shoulder to be a good person.

All the same, I moved with a matter of cautious haste, looking around corners before moving into alleyways and disappearing into the ruins of the Geodesic dome. Picture half of Epcott sitting on top of a forest, and you have a rough idea of what I’m doing, only with a good sixth of the dome itself caved in. The wreckage covered portions of the woodlands within its borders, and the high treetops poking out made the whole area look alien and strange, especially in contrast to the colorless city around me.

Out of habit, I checked my pistol to ensure it was fully loaded. I sighed, thinking about how much that wouldn’t help me, and forged my way into the wilderness as the sounds of a machine gone mad echoed through the remains of the dome.

Time to go to work.