Part 3

Consciousness returned in fits and starts. Pieces of the atmosphere were what caught Frankie’s eye first. His second sensation was cold and hard. He sat up realizing as he did so that he was lying on a cold stone slab sitting in a middle of a broken wasteland. His fine clothes were gone, replaced with a utility coverall.

“Ahh, it was about time you woke up. Am not sure how long I was going to have to wait.”

Frankie’s mind snapped around and his head did too to a grizzled old face. His eyes met the old man’s as he croaked, “Where am I?”

“Always the first question. But usually not the right first question, no, this would be better phrased as ‘Am I safe?’ No one ever gets that right.”

“Am I?” Frankie looked around.

“Err, yes, for now. But we better get you out of here. Once twilight hits we don’t want to be hanging around the recovery site.”

Frankie looked around. The slab he was on was in the middle of a canyon, barren of vegetation and fading into twilight as the sun set below its rim.

“The recovery site?”

“Yes. The place where all outcasts recover from their implants.”

“Implants?”

The old man had been getting to his feet. He paused in mid stretch and looked Frankie up and down.

“Yeah, the ones they told you about at your sentencing. Pay attention newbie or you won’t live long out here.”

“But I wasn’t sentenced.”

The old man who had turned around now turned back.

“Hmmm. Interesting. Innocent too I suppose? No matter you have been tagged with the latest surveillance chip. All your actions will be recorded and transmitted the second you set foot into any city. And if you are foolish enough to set foot in any city they will come and promptly arrest you and put you right back here – usually after they have their fun with you. Come on, get up I don’t have all night.”