Blue Roses

By Jude Urlich

It's an ordinary enough day until Emi meets someone new - and very unusual. Stella looks like she's 100 years old to Emi, who hasn't seen anyone over the age of 60 in years. Funny, where have they all gone? As the questions start forming in her mind, Emi enters a world of fear and uncertainty, learning not to trust those she most admires. With the help of Stella and her long-lost grandson, Kyle, and some other unlikely heroes, they infiltrate the 21st Century's best-kept secret. They discover exactly what the international military machine has been developing and why their lives and all those around them are at risk. Emi finds the terrible truth about her parents' disappearance and she plots against the government to save her world, and secure the future. But what chance does a small group of friends have against such powerful and deadly foes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jude Urlich
• Release date: Apr 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9780473189730

Jude Urlich

Jude is a New Zealander.

Book preview

Blue Roses

…ever wondered about the future?

Jude Urlich

Copyright © Jude Urlich, 2011

Published by Hey Jude Limited at Smashwords

Hey Jude Ltd

PO Box 5653

Lambton Quay

Wellington, New Zealand, 6145.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER ONE

Emi forced open her good eye; the other tightly shut. It was already starting to swell, traumatised from the blow deftly delivered by the heavy butt of the military weapon. She hadn’t seen that coming, couldn’t have seen it, because the cold-blooded execution she had just witnessed had already left her stunned; numb to every sensation. Even now it was hard to feel any pain, although her mind was working faster than ever. She looked across at the body of her dearest friend, level with her eye on the floor. Stella’s head lay turned toward her and Emi could see that her last breath had escaped, thanks to a hole neatly carved through her skull; smoke still curling lazily from the scorch marks left around its edges.

Despite the vicious knock, Emi was pretty sure she hadn’t lost consciousness. Success had been so near and now she was finished. Defiant, she cast her thoughts back to what they had set out to do, I’m not sorry she thought, I’d do it again. Bravely she lifted her head above the floor, ready to accept her fate and join her friend. For what seemed like eternity she looked steadily at the tiny beam of light travelling towards her head in slow motion; challenging it with her gaze, as it changed from yellow to orange and, finally, to the red-ray of death.

Cutting through her thoughts, a man’s curt voice commanded, I’ll finish up. Sergeant, take the troops and complete the perimeter sweep. A slight hesitation circuited the highly-charged room. Now! he thundered. A rapid-fire Yes sir shot from the army of boots tramping past her ear, shaking the floor with co-ordinated heavy movements. Tension released, back-slapping and pleasure at having hunted and cornered their prey filled the corridor outside.

Awaiting her demise, Emi took one last loving look at her friend and wondered: how did it come to this? Their first meeting was ordinary enough. And instead of her own life flashing before her eyes, in that moment of certain death her mind turned to that day, with its first awakenings that something was terribly wrong.

CHAPTER TWO

It was early morning, well, early for Emi who had overslept again. Better late than never she told herself as she crawled out of bed. Slowly focusing she surveyed the scene of destruction that was her bedroom: the jumble of clothing forming colourful hills spread across a greenish brown valley that was her carpet that reflected back the same soft tones of her eyes. Emi found it comforting: the disarray and faint smell emanating from her clothes and shoes. Sure, she could pick them up and place them in the sani-express, her most recent purchase. Remarkably, it reduced the microbe cleaning process to just 25 seconds; nothing like the water-based cleansing of yester-year. Nowadays water was only used for showering and, in miniscule amounts, catalysing dishwashers. A momentary thought of tidying-up flickered across her mind and, almost as rapidly, she expunged it, while a faint chirruping noise entered her consciousness.

With a sharp turn of her foot she dashed for the kitchen, dropping the hair clip that moments before she had swooped out of one of the valleys like a keen-eyed falcon. Letting go of her handful of hair, a long fringe fell across the right side of her face. Brushing it aside with a small shake of her head, Emi carefully removed the full water condenser from the wall, stopping the noise. She then slowly poured the contents into a large container and placed it in her chiller, already stacked with bottles. Water was an expensive commodity and most households recovered their drinking supplies from dehumidifying atmospheric H20, conveniently powered through the building’s solar network.

Replacing the canister she opened her wide mouth to speak. Her lips curved up at the ends giving her a permanent faint smile. Emi’s clear voice echoed slightly in the small barren kitchen space, decorated only by her failure to tidy things away. It wasn’t a place of warmth like her bedroom, rather a sterile cavern where Emi spent as little time as possible. However, like most homes, it was the power-centre for connecting to the blogzone and her apartment was no exception.

Start. Message to the gang. Bright blue sky and glorious sunshine. That can only mean one thing. See you at the beach after work. Over.

Exhaling slowly Emi firmly dispatched her voice blog and smiled. Today was going to be good. It had the promise of warm air, relaxation and friendship. She would check out the blokes with their shirts off and fantasise about relationships, all from the safety of her flirtatious, but introverted, personality. Afterwards she would retreat when things looked like getting too outrageous. Emi preferred stirring the pot to actually pouring it out and supping. Most of it didn’t count anyway when half of them weren’t interested in her gender— that made it even more delicious because it was just play-acting and make-believe. Emi was 27 and not looking for anything serious— just a few laughs with her friends and the occasional hint of adventure.

The return blogs started queuing for her attention and she invited them to speak: Manz, Joli, Amba, Jorge, and Hana were all going to be there. And maybe Graz and Rox could make it if their transporter got them back in time. You never know with those undersea travel shuttles; sometimes they catch a current that gives maxi-power to the engines, and sometimes the turbulence just winds them right down despite the abundance of wavepower. That’s the trouble with transport; the word reliability just doesn’t feature.

Now, thought Emi, time to get started or I’ll never get to work on time. Looking around the tiny yellow room with its grubby white floor and pile of dirty dishes, her eyes clouded. My life is chaos, she groaned inwardly. Thankfully that depressing thought was destroyed in an instant by a male’s voice interjecting; slow, deep, sonorous, filling every breathable space in the kitchen, inviting her toward him:

Hey Emi babe, it’s Brando. Been missing ya. Hope your night was as hot as mine. Listen babe, don’t mean to spice things up too much, but you need to know there’s a jam in your usual route. Expect delays of 35 minutes. You know I’m the man and I always look out for you, so take my advice and try an alternate route to work, by the river looks best and it’s as pretty as you too. Talk to you babe…later.

Before she could trip on the dustpan and stretch her arm across the bench to power-up the kitchen visuals, he was gone. Damn, she thought, missed him.

Brando was a Presenter Profile, PP for short, she had just created. She had tired of Rewi after listening to his smooth, dulcet tones for the past six months. She had wanted to take it up a notch, something a little raunchier. All her friends had sexy PPs and Emi decided to throw herself into that hotbed of passion too. So what if she hadn’t had a date in two years? Real guys were just so disappointing. Brando was definitely a throw-back, a primeval ape-man who had so much sex-appeal he could cut it in the 21st Century. But she was saving credits and couldn’t afford to run her wall-to-wall visuals round the clock, so the soft-porn kick she got from his body-builder physique and customised good looks would have to wait. Later it is then, she muttered.

After shaking her head she shrugged her shoulders and thought, better let Chester know. Emi sounded shrill and sterile after Brando’s deep tones, yet she knew her hologram would portray her voice and physical appearance in the most presentable fashion when her message was delivered:

Start. Message to Chester. Ah Chester, just want you to know I’ll be late for work. Blockage on my regular route, will try another way in. Over.

Knowing the message would reach Chester instantly Emi searched for her handbag, grabbed it, retrieved her hairclip from the bedroom floor, grimaced at her plain face in the mirror while carefully flattening the top of her hair and sliding the clip into place. Switching on her mobile while slamming the door, she left for work.

Five minutes later there was a sound of the biosecurity key pad operating, then a woman’s voice commanded: Door. Swinging it open Emi dashed in and through to the bedroom – beach bag, where, where, where?

Frantically she grabbed at the piles on the floor and, like a titan, thrust the hillsides apart. As she tripped over her green skirt with the loose hem and stumbled across the four pairs of stylish shoes scattered across the floor, she was once more captivated by Brando:

Hey Emi babe, Brando here. Been missing ya. Just needed to give you a little update. That delay has cleared so you can go your usual way. Don’t forget, I’ll be waiting for you when you get home...

Emi smiled and thanked Brando, in serious danger of thinking he was real. The way he had stressed ‘needed’ made her spine go all tingley. Freeing herself from his aural embrace she stood up clutching her beach bag in triumph, sighed heavily and left for work, again.

Hurrying down the stairs, her peep-toe black solex shoes made a clitter clatter sound. A door on the right opened and a startled young man appeared. He was just over six feet tall, slim and athletic, with a handsome smile and a glamorous girlfriend following right behind. With a wide grin he asked: Ah Emi, late again? Thought I heard you leaving earlier?

Caitlin hurried forward to clasp his arm. Like a venomous viper, she smiled a wide warning signal before giving Emi a breathy Hi. Slithering her hourglass-shaped body around him, she ensconced his forearm with her talons—long elegant fingers beautifully painted with luscious blood red nails that matched her full red lips. Her metallic black pencil-tight skirt with sparkling, intricate, hemline beading and smooth lilac clinging top showed her buxom figure to perfection. Her shiny blonde hair, piled in small soft curls above her ears, like some glamorous movie star from a bygone era, was the best money could buy, like the rest of her plastic body. Emi noted with interest that Caitlin’s dark facial mole had moved from her top lip to beneath her left eye. She oozed pheromones. There was something surreal about Caitlin’s beauty, but it was intimidating and in stark contrast to Emi’s plain, natural form.

Emi smiled, her inadequate teeth baring back at Caitlin’s pearly whites that could guard the gates of heaven itself. Heat pumped through Emi’s arteries as she became conscious of her once-fashionable silver zoot suit, all the rage around two years ago, but now faded with the shine worn off in several places. Sweat beaded under her armpits, and she managed a quick: Hiya, yeah just remembered to grab my beach things: lovely day! Her eyes strayed longingly at Zen but before the conversation could go further all three were torn apart from Emi’s imagined love-triangle by the sound of their mobile alarms.

None had yet connected their earpieces for the day and apparently none had yet purchased the latest in eyewear devices. They drew their mobiles in a curious mimicking way, as if completing an action in a choreographed dance, flipped open lids in unison and instructed their messages to begin. In an equally well-rehearsed manner, oblivious to the sound of each other, well-practised at the art of screening-out information that wasn’t directed at them, each listened intently to their personalised message. They watched as 3-D holographic images filled the space between lid and communication panel, enacting the words being spoken, while each PP stood to the side, a news anchor, retelling the story:

Three-time grammy award winner, Soza Stingati, has been found dead in her hotel room. Police enquiries so far show no foul-play is suspected. The chirpy, happy voice of Emi’s mobile PP, Angie, beamed. She was a 20-something woman with bubbly bouncy brown curls and smiling eyes. Brando was reserved for the privacy of her home and only when Emi was alone. She had programmed her biosecurity keypad so that if she had company, it was Angie, not Brando, who would be activated. And it was always Angie who accompanied her outside. Emi wondered whether other people did the same?

The world is in shock today as singer-songwriter Soza Stingati is gunned down in a crowded Los Angeles Street. Police are saying they are investigating a likely mafia link to the Italian singer’s murder. Somewhat unexpectedly, from Zen’s mobile a gentle and intelligent-sounding older man with a serious expression and stony features delivered this sensational news without a trace of emotion.

Fans the world-over are mourning the loss of celebrity singer, Soza Stingati, who was arrested today by police and charged with cocaine-dealing. In a gun shoot-out that followed, boyfriend Dino Yee was cornered and the singer gunned down in her fatal attempt to shield him. A highly-charged, sexy female voice who was Caitlin’s body-double smugly announced from Caitlin’s mobile.

All three looked up and resumed their conversation. So, you’re skipping work and off to the beach then? Zen teased, smiling and looking intently into her eyes. Blushing slightly at the thought, maybe because it would be nice to do and how could he know that and so mortified that he would know that she would like to do something naughty once in awhile: Emi did the only thing she usually did in difficult situations and, laughing, ran away as quickly as possible so that he didn’t see her blushing.

CHAPTER THREE

All that day Emi couldn’t help feeling the edge of exhilaration, tasting on the very tip of her tongue the adrenalin that she knew was going to come. The beach was the best place in her life. She was always happiest in summer. She could hang out in the dunes, joke about with her friends while enjoying a couple of drinks dreaming about her life and the possibilities that lay ahead. Always there was the let-down, coming home to the small apartment alone; but she had Brando now, so it wasn’t that bad anymore. Still, she wondered what it would be like with a real man around, one like Zen?

Disrupting her pleasant reverie a large face with bulbous nose, a little moisture tangled in the small tufts of faded red hair sprouting from the upper lip, loomed in front of her. How’s that image coming along? grinned Chester.

Chester, aargh, get him out of my face. Emi’s thoughts raced through her mind at sonic speed. Imagine making a PP like Chester! It’s possible of course, but it would really drive you quite mad. A slightly pudgy five feet ten, it was difficult to imagine that Chester was descended from the Vikings. His short hair was tightly coiled in tiny springs, yet his skin was pale and coloured with an impressive constellation of orange freckles. Emi wondered what kind of PP Chester makes? OMG, don’t go there; Emi quickly wrapped up her thoughts with a slight shudder.

In moments like this she was always grateful that the previous decade’s captivation with thought communication—wireless brain to brain dialogue—was well and truly over. Now reserved for use in serious medical conditions and criminal cases, ordinary people had walked away from the devices once it became clear that thoughts were able to be captured by anyone, not just the intended recipient, and that the very most private ones were not protected. In fact, there had been some hilarious and embarrassing episodes captured on their favourite blogsters that still regaled her and her friends for hours on end.

They couldn’t get enough of those classic moments, like the time when the foreign Prince was introduced to the President and somehow his private thoughts were beamed around the world. It was have been okay if he had been impressed, but the