Chapter 20 – D for Daedalus

The airwaves blanketed the city with their new heroes, gallantly protecting people’s right to fly. Yet, some looked upon such gaudy displays with growing discontent.

There was nothing on their backs to take pride in. They moved purely with their own two feet, what God had given them. Some held long-standing fears of taking off from the ground, preferring to being constantly ‘grounded’. Footage of people tumbling wildly through the air after losing their wings served to cement such notions.

In truth, they were a minority in Stratos, a grand city built for the purpose of Flyers alone. However, someone had to manage the work down below. The farms and factories that occupied a quarter of the workforce were filled with No-Flyers who came for the benefits and guarantees offered, yet they rejected conforming to wings impressed upon them.

Naturally, Stratos had to start from somewhere. An influx of people came to the city in its early days, waiting their turn to gain the privilege to fly. But as the buildings stretched taller and taller, so did the standard of living for those in the sky. At some point, living on the surface became synonymous with slum life.

Regardless, No-Flyers banded together in a community, living at ground level and commuting up into the city as needed. They struck a compromise for the sake of being part of Stratos.

Until Daedalus came along.

“The city sees you as lowly migrants, sucking off what you need and leaving less for who they deem worthy.”

“Stratos cares not for you. They give you scraps in hopes that you don’t clamor for more. They rule up high as they look down upon you.”

“Is such treatment just? Is paradise meant for only some but not others?”

They were whispers passed around the No-Flyers. Stray thoughts that sparked more and more discord among the hearts of certain people.

For most, these statements were brushed off as nonsense, criticism from extremists who no doubt felt overly slighted. However, it didn’t fail to resonate for a few that took such discrimination to heart.

No-Flyers that couldn’t get a proper job, pay for the things they wanted, or earn the respect they hoped for – they started looking outwards for someone to blame, anyone.

“Going up, Sir.”

A man walked into an elevator, his eyes looking skeptically at the Flyer attendant who was guarding the path up to the main city. As the lift moved upward, it passed through several rings of light, shining green as he and others around him waited patiently for it to reach the entryway, over a kilometer up.

He let out a sigh of relief. If something suspicious was detected, the rings would suddenly turn red, and an alarm would sound. Everyone on the lift would be subject to rigorous questioning, a safety measure in place since the first bombing.

As the doors opened, he filtered out with the crowd, queuing in line to enter the middle levels. Particularly with No-Flyers who commuted every day, ID was required to keep track of their movement.

The man took out his ID and scanned over it, committing the information to memory. A swipe of the card led to a gate swung open and the guard nodding for him to go ahead.

“Welcome back, Henry Ford. Please proceed to your workstation.”

Obviously, the ID was fake, as the man had never been to the middle levels before. He looked around for a moment, surprised by how easily he was given access. How easily Daedalus had made it work.

Just who is Daedalus?

The mysterious figure showed up only after the first Icarus bomb detonated, and still, the so-called leader of the No-Flyer extremists was shrouded in mystery.

He was nowhere to be found, yet an encoded message would appear before those that beat the same drum and wished to strike back at the city. It was a recruitment – a call for guerilla tactics to bring a government to its knees.

For those tempted by such retaliation, a promise of riches helped seal the deal. Before long, others like the man playing the role of Henry would find instructions – the right place at the right time was the customs baggage carousel at precisely 8 AM for him.

The target was a square, black briefcase with the words ‘Aloha from Crete’ and palm trees to make it appear innocent. Only those in the know would understand that it was a message to them.

‘Henry’ reached over and grabbed the luggage from the conveyor belt past security, wondering how such a thing could sneak by it unnoticed. Chalking it up to one of Daedalus’ mysteries, he proceeded to the next step.

An aerial trolley ride – though run-down and bumpy – would take him where he needed to go. Upon stepping in, he noticed how packed it was. The long carriage swayed and rumbled as it took off, jostling the passengers who had a distant look in their eyes. It was obvious where city funding was prioritized.

These people were used to it, packed like sardines, mistreated and ignored. A reservation that life wouldn’t get better for them had been swallowed, silent compliance at second-class citizenry. All because they simply didn’t want wings.

Cowards. The lot of them. Too afraid to speak up for their own losses. Too convinced the city will protect them if they stay quiet.

There was a vibe directed at No-Flyers, accusing them of causing trouble without proof. Even though some of their own had perished from victims crashing into their places, the news outlets had chosen to ignore that side. No recognition turned into no voice for the No-Flyers. As such, their heads stayed downcast as they simply tried to hold tight to their jobs.

His grip on the package tightened. He didn’t want to be another silent bystander like them. He had come to Stratos because he had heard promises and guarantees. Yet, he had been stopped at the ground-level entrance and told that he would have to wait for clearance.

They couldn’t trust migrants for the time being, so his applications were rejected. The lifeline that he hoped for couldn’t happen unless a contract demanding permanent change was signed first.

‘Henry’ didn’t have time to waste on ‘self-improvements’. There were those counting on him back home. Yet, he was asked to discard his pride and his past. To be born anew as something different.

That was a step too far for him to take. And looking at the people on the trolley, he felt like it would’ve been bad even if he could enter without wings.

The train braked roughly before the doors slid open. ‘Henry’ looked down and gulped as he minded the gap. Everyone else streamed out and hopped over it like it was nothing. But one careless act would send him falling into the endless depths below.

The more he thought about it, the crazier this city seemed. Who knew that paradise would be lofted on stilts, kept out of reach from those who were wary of it?

With heavier and heavier breaths, he marched onto the platform, making sure to keep away from the barrier-less edges. Soon, he found himself growing more alone as only those with wings crossed his path.

“Hello, there!”

‘Henry’ froze. He turned around to see someone gliding down towards him, package in hand. All he could muster was a slight nod in response.

“I noticed that you are walking around alone in front of the government offices where mainly Flyers traffic. Are you perhaps lost?”

Unsure of what to even say without giving himself away, ‘Henry’ sheepishly nodded like he didn’t want to admit any blunder.

“Very well. I, Jake from… FlightEx, know the city quite well. I would be happy to escort you to where you need to go.”

‘Henry’ glanced in the direction he was heading, noting that he only had a short way left to go. A squad of police bots guarded the building his instructions led him to. It was a place chock full of government pencil-pushers looking to make the lives of No-Flyers miserable. A look down at his watch showed that it was ten minutes until 9 AM, the promised time.

As Jake extended his hand for guidance, ‘Henry’ reached forward for a handshake. But just as Jake started to pull him the other direction, the briefcase came forward and smashed the Glider over the head.

With the grip released, ‘Henry’ made a mad dash to his objective while the other man stumbled to recover.

“All units! Suspicious No-Flyer on the sky bridge between Central Station level 430 and Trafalgar 421! Possibly carrying a live one!”

‘Henry’ didn’t look back as he rushed toward the police sentries. It seemed like a suicide tactic, but Daedalus had informed him not to worry about them. Sure enough, they shut down right before he approached, making it the right call. Rather, he had been warned of Gliders, who were the true dogs of the government, charged with taking down bombs being brought into the city.

He dashed as quickly as his legs could take him, hoping that he could buy enough time inside of the building. A quick glance around told him that several Gliders were closing in on his position.

The crowd of Flyers ahead started to disperse, finally noticing the No-Flyer running towards them. Given all that had been on the news, acknowledgement turned to chaos as Flyers immediately dove away to find safety. That led to a clear path for ‘Henry’ to stumble into a nearby doorway and look for any place to stash the bomb.

According to Daedalus’ note, he simply had to keep it at the targeted location and out of the enemy’s hands. The rest would be taken care of at the stroke of 9.

The doors burst open behind him, an angry Jake still nursing his head leading a few others. ‘Henry’ continued to run, eyeing his watch that said 8:58 before ducking into a random office and slamming the door shut.

Several bangs on the locked door greeted his back as he took a moment to catch his breath. But not even a minute later, Jake had slipped into the room on the other side where an emergency window was located. The Glider moved forward like a victor who had trapped his prey.

‘Henry’ simply smiled at him, opening the briefcase to show him that there was only ten seconds left on the timer. Instantly, Jake’s eyes dilated as he tried to take cover. As if relishing the reversal, ‘Henry’ marched forward and heaved his foot into Jake’s chest, launching him right out the window.

“Three, two, one, boom…”

A purple light filled the room as Henry’s one moment of glee was drowned out by it.