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The Brave New World 3 Death In A Parking Lo

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It wasn't business as usual for the parking lot attendant. Li Yang could see his charred corpse in the half-melted remains of the gla.s.s kiosk next to the entrance into the parking lot.

The lightning had struck right next to the kiosk, and the vehicles that had been parked nearby were now all smoking, burnt-out wrecks. The attendant didn't have a chance: he had been killed instantly.

Li Yang came close to dying, too. After he'd realized the sirens he'd heard belonged to the motorcade headed for the United Nations building, he continued to slink between the parked cars, pulling on their doors. And just a couple of minutes after he'd found the sneakers, he came across a real treasure trove.

He didn't have any high hopes when he tried the rear pa.s.senger door of an old, dirty Chevrolet parked right in the middle of the lot. It didn't look like a car that could contain anything valuable. But it did.

He nearly missed the paper bag rolled into a tight ball, and pushed between the steering column and the dashboard. It was visible only when he'd put his head under the steering wheel and looked up.

The paper bag contained a small plastic sachet, which in turn contained a big pinch of yellowish powder. Li Yang knew what that powder was. It was a mix of synthetic narcotics called ivory dust, and it sold for around five hundred dollars a gram on the street.

Li Yang didn't use drugs. This wasn't because he thought they were evil; he simply could not afford them. This was also why he always refused the rare offers of a free hit. He was afraid of being consumed by a need to have another hit when the effect of the first one had worn off.

He had been living on the streets ever since his mother died, over a year earlier. Her meager pension checks had just about covered the rent on a room in a run-down apartment she and her son shared with three other people. During the time he'd spent living on the streets, Li Yang had seen with his own eyes what happened to people who were fond of drugs.

Most of them became tired, dirty husks of their former selves. They were willing to humiliate themselves beyond belief just so they could get another hit.

When Li Yang's mother had been still been alive, she used to scold him for his pride.

"You are too proud," she told him repeatedly. "Remember: pride comes before the fall."

But she had been wrong about that. It was his pride that kept Li Yang from falling, from surrendering to the hopeless despair he felt almost every day. He was too proud to turn into a junkie enslaved by addiction. There was only one way to make sure he never became one, and that was to never take any drugs.

Selling them to someone who wanted them was another matter, particularly if he'd come into their possession by accident. Everyone made their own choices. Li Yang had no moral qualms about selling the little plastic bag of ivory dust to whoever was willing to pay him. Their drug problem was their problem, not his. He had enough of his own problems to deal with, thank you very much.


He was very happy when he'd found the ivory dust. There was at least a gram of the powder in the sachet. It was enough to keep him in food and drink for several days, maybe even a full week if he got a good price.

First he'd found the sneakers, and now this! His birthday was turning out to be one h.e.l.l of a lucky day.

He was congratulating himself on his good fortune when the sky turned white, and the boom of a thousand thunderbolts nearly broke his eardrums.

He acted instinctively: he ran a few steps, then threw himself on the ground and crawled under a parked car. He didn't see the parking lot attendant die in his booth. He lay under the car with his arms wrapped around his head. He was screaming at the top of his voice from the pain in his ears, but he couldn't hear his own screams.

The terrible noise went on and on until he was certain he was about to die. Then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

For a couple of heartbeats, everything was silent and still. And then the rain came cras.h.i.+ng down, and Li Yang really came close to death. He managed to slide out from under the car at the last possible moment: he came very close to drowning.

He couldn't see a thing. Everything was obscured by a moving, s.h.i.+fting, hissing curtain of water. He huddled down in a ball between the cars, squatting on his haunches. He held his prize - the plastic bag with the sneakers and the sachet of ivory dust - pressed against his chest. With his other arm, he tried to protect his head from the rain. It hurt as if someone was pelting him with small stones.

When the rain ended, he was wet through. He wasn't afraid of dying any more. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. He told himself: what will happen, will happen. But please, please, please, don't make it hurt too much. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to die. Just don't make it hurt too much. Please.

He waited, and death did not come. After a few moments, he noticed that he was squatting in water deep enough to completely cover his feet. He stood up, and was surprised to see he was almost next to what was left of the parking lot attendant's kiosk. He looked at the charred corpse without feeling anything. He glanced around, but everything else was hidden behind a heavy fog that smelled sweetly of burnt flesh.

He stood still, straining to hear a sound, any sound. But he could hear nothing at all. His ears hurt. He put the tip of his finger inside his ear, hissing with pain, then took it out and held it right in front of his eyes.

The tip of his finger was smeared in blood. For a terrifying moment, Li Yang thought that his eardrums had burst, and that he had become deaf. But then a sob of terror and self-pity escaped his lips, and he heard it.

He heard himself sob like a little kid, and immediately felt ashamed. Like many times before, his pride saved him.

He looked around, still clutching the bag with his precious finds. Nothing! Nothing but a thick, dirty white fog, all around him. He could barely make out the car he was standing next to.

Then he became aware of a glow in the fog. The source of the light seemed to be right in the middle of the parking lot, on the central driveway between the parking s.p.a.ces. He took a few steps towards it, and the glow became stronger.

It took him almost a minute to reach the glowing cube, although it was just twenty steps away. Every step took a big effort of will. I will not be afraid, he said to himself, over and over again. I will not be afraid, I am not afraid. I don't care if it kills me. f.u.c.k this s.h.i.+t.

He put his face close to the s.h.i.+ning cube. There was something incredibly beautiful about it. He reached out and touched it delicately, afraid of getting his finger burnt.

He saw the words:

GREETINGS, REVERED ANCESTORS. PLEASE TOUCH AGAIN FOR AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE.

NOTICE

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