Myth City

By Anya Howard

Apple has taken the task of carrying a friend’s ashes beyond the safety of the City’s parameters. To her surprise she is met by a stranger. Humans and other forms of life are not even thought able to live in this dreaded terrain! Graham is not only healthy, he is kind and attractive, and he plays a pipe that makes music -real music, something that has not been heard in decades. But with his fantastic tales of a homeland which lies over the hills and far away, Apple believes this intriguing man must be quite mad. It is only after seeing him drive off a pair of rats with just the lull of his pipe music Apple understands this man is not delusional, but gifted. Apple also realizes quite keenly that despite the emotional abstinence expected by City law, she is falling in love with Graham. And when the City elders attempt to use the piper’s gifts without meeting his asking price, they will face a swift penalty that jeopardizes the foundations of their heartless world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anya Howard
• Release date: Nov 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370116348

Anya Howard

Anya Howard is the pen name of a Tennessee born and bred author, columnist and screenwriter. Since childhood she has had an avid interest in the paranormal, and her stories and novels are often inspired by European folk tales and legends. Anya’s writing incorporates fantasy elements, and she describes her Romance work as “Erotic oriented, Alpha-male friendly and written with a positive emphasis on sensual M/F bondage & discipline fantasy.”   Anya makes her home in a small town in the Smokey Mountains region with her always-encouraging husband and their children. Visit her on the web at anyahoward.com.

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Myth City

©2018 by Anya Howard

The following story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual entities, events, places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This re-issue of Myth City by Anya Howard is a literary release that has been edited and made available for sales avenues via Vangkrom Press. No part of this story may be bartered, sold, reproduced, shared or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the author or the author’s legal heirs.

Cover art ©2018 by Book Covers R Us http://bookcoversrus.com

For Robert, for leading me to wondrous things

Technology…the knack of so arranging the world that we don’t have to experience it.

~Max Frisch, Homo Faber

Apple stood at the end of the narrow corridor, between the last two large nozzles flanking her at either side. She held her breath and closed her eyes. The machinery made a rumbling cough, and the nozzles misted her all over with sunscreen. When they had finished their job, she pulled her soggy hair back and reopened her eyes. Only now did she see the rats. A pair of them, standing side by side on the tread in front of her; one dark gray and the other a rough brown shade, with long snouts and longer naked tails. Their mustached noses twitched as they sniffed the air and their eyes grew wide in a way that suggested they couldn’t decide whether they should be wary or merely surprised to see her.

An instinctive shiver of disgust shot up Apple’s spine, one that tempted her to just go back. But she had come too far now to be frightened away.

Go! she shouted, flailing an arm in the air. Go on, get out!

The rodents exchanged looks as if considering the order. Then they turned and sprinted off the end of the tread. She watched as they fled toward the open room up ahead and disappeared into the shadows.

Relieved, Apple exited the inoculation compartment and stepped into the small dark room. The various chemicals she’d endured had left her naked body feeling sticky and smelling funny. But at least the preparation process was all over.

This had gone quicker than she had expected. But without her cane and without handrails to hold onto, Apple’s steps were careful, for the floor had a pebble-grained surface that sloped gradually to the sides where the drains were.The walk-through the chamber with its dozen or so robotic delivery spouts anchored to the walls had been tediously long. Now her nostrils felt tight and itchy, as did her eyes, and the excess vaccine matter dripped from her hair to the orange tile floor. This finishing room was bare except for a single clean garment hanging from a steel hook. She took it down and looked at it momentarily -a gown of dingy gray reused and sanitized cottony material- and pulled this over her head. She was careful as she did this, fearing the flimsy material might tear at any moment.

Directly across from her was the last door, a big sturdy one with a sign that read EXIT AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Apple shook her hair to get the last of the chemicals out, and proceeded to the door. She pushed on it and it gave way with a heavy sigh. At once her eyes stung for the light of full day flooding into the Port. Careful to put most of her weight on her good right foot, she stepped over the threshold and let the door close behind her.

A voice nearby said, I have your things, Citizen Apple.

Apple blinked, and shading her eyes with a palm, saw a youth standing there. The youth had male features and couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age. He gave Apple a sweet smile, and she saw that an acrylic cane dangled over his right forearm and he held the earthenware urn in his hands. Apple suspected this wasn’t a regular citizen, but one of the drone children genetically modified at conception -including the rumored immunity against the viruses and contagions said to lie outside the city. They were part of the new generation; a boon to the City, she supposed, as more and more citizens were being denied conception privileges.

He offered the cane to Apple, the smile never fading from his finely sculpted lips. It wasn’t her familiar cane, but it was the right height and when she tried her weight, it felt sturdy enough.

They have both been properly sanitized, he assured her.

As Apple took the urn she noticed the tiny marble-like orb embedded in the center of his smooth left palm. She had not encountered many drones, but this surprised her. For in addition to having their genders suppressed, the drones were supposed to be prenatally designed with intellectual advancement that left them free of the desire for electronic entertainment. But she then she realized that orbs were just as commonly used for communications, and the drones needed to be able to communicate with their superiors.

Do you have an idea how long this will take you? the drone asked.

Apple’s vision was growing used to the natural light now, and for the first time she took a look at the awaiting landscape. It had been over twenty years since she had laid eyes on the outside world. It looked positively gorgeous - all softly rolling green hills dotted with trees here and there and wild flowers everywhere. A stream cut through two of the hills on the western horizon, and she could see a little bridge at one point in the course. In the farthest distance stood even higher hills topped with thick woods.

Apple heard the singing of creatures from the closer trees, and she remembered this was the speech of birds. The air coming through the Port smelled sweet and clean. It was much more pleasant than the air which was filtered in and circulated throughout the City.

Not too long, she replied. An hour at most, I’m sure.

Very well, the drone said. As long as you are back by nightfall. We are told the Nape vapors are heaviest with the evening dew. You’d have to go through extra decontamination procedures if you enter after sunset. A little frown forked over the drone’s brow as he remarked, And there are certain reported side-effects with those.

Apple nodded and weighed the urn in her hands. She was amazed how light a person’s ashes were.

Thank you, Apple said. But a touch of curiosity overcame her. How do you go back and forth from the City? You arrived before me, obviously, but you’re very dry.

The drone’s face pinched slightly. And when he spoke his voice was, for the first time, bereft of the sunny lilt, Outer sentries use a system of passageways built inside the Wall. Our dormitories are there as well.

How did you know where to be?

Our orders were given via the Orb Command some time ago.

Oh, Apple said, feeling suddenly very sad for him. His succinct explanation told her that sentry drones must be considered expendable if the Counsel kept them separated from the general populace. This much was ironic, she thought, as the drones were hailed as fitter, stronger and more advanced examples of human genetics.

Apple contemplated the landscape for a moment, and situated the urn safely under one arm. She thanked him again and testing her weight on the cane, started walking. Although the task before her was sobering enough, she couldn’t stop thinking about the drone. After several paces she paused and looked back. The drone was standing a ways from the Port door, and he was staring at the palm with the tiny orb embedded in it. His face had grown lax and his eyes were utterly transfixed; just like the other City youths when they were interacting with the electronic data or games over the System. She felt sorry for him; she felt sorry for the younger generation. For when she was little, children just enjoyed carefree play and the adventures that came in simply enjoying life. It was not so now.

As she stood thinking of this, she saw the drone lower his hand and blink several times. It seemed a deliberate sort of blinking; and he rubbed his eyes and popped his cheek with his fingertips. He looked to the ground as if searching for something, and pulled something from a pocket of his trousers. Apple couldn’t make out what this was, but she watched as he squatted and pitched it. It scattered in small pieces across the ground. A serene smile lilted his mouth as now he just watched the ground as if waiting for something.

It was curious to Apple, but she had a task to fulfill.. No one among Sky’s relations had been willing to carry out her last request, and Apple had gone through too much head-achy official red tape to get sidetracked now. So she put the drone out of her thoughts, set her sights on the hills before her, and began the search for an ideal spot to release her friend’s ashes.

Unlike the scorched earth Apple had prepared for, the landscape was visually picturesque and serene. As wildly tempted as she was to just wander about, she was drawn to the little bridge that spanned the stream. It was smaller than she had originally thought; just a structure of bowed wooden planks and a handrail set upon posts. Yet the bridge appeared sturdy, no dilapidated thing one might expect out here in the ruined wilds. Before stepping onto it she tested the first plank with her cane, gradually allowing her weight to settle on the wood. The plank gave no sound