Catalyst

fiction by michael werneburg

I desperately wanted to turn this shit off, but was required to have my NCV on and receiving at all times. I was standing on my pedals as I worked them, and breathing hard. It felt like the temperature was soaring, maybe forty-five degrees at this point. Once I made the second marker, it would be a fairly steep downward grade into the Old Town. Until then, it was another two kilometers of steady upward grade, and for the first time, I was sure that I wasn't going to stay ahead of the pack the entire way.

"We've got the footage of the incidents that took Forth and Hufnagel from the race, and it all comes to down to Kuan. Watch here as Forth, Hufnagel, and Kuan all enter the same street as they abandon the main course. The corner was pretty tight, and as the spectators scramble, you can see Kuan looking back under her arm. If we can just slow it here, yes, it's at this point that Kuan simply clips Hufnagel's front wheel with what appears to be a stun wand of some kind. You can see Hufnagel's attempt at swerving away from Kuan-"

"Dan, I've seen Hawkins weapons in action before, during the pan-Siberian cycling rally. That's clearly what we're seeing here; note how the charge was carried from the wheel rim right back to Hufnagel. See how a spasm carries her right off the frame. That's gotta be a Hawkins stun bolt discharging."

"Well, the footage doesn't show how Forth managed to fall in the same move. Perhaps there was momentary contact between their two cycles. Clearly, Hufnagel had made an adjustment to avoid Kuan. Perhaps she clipped Forth's cycle as well?"

"In any event, two favorites down in one move. Clearly, Kuan thinks the race is still winnable, but not if serious athletes are still in the event."

I swallowed hard on my water tube, and kept up the pace. I had enough proscribed synthetic carbohydrates—the kind they'd proscribed after the Tundra Wars—in my system to keep me going for another hour or two, but I was breathing too hard. There wouldn't be any respite from the heavy going until the next marker, which seemed as far away as ever.

Then, from the NCV, I heard, "Riders are turning up at the first marker, now. Second to the marker is #23, a Homer Norris from Christchurch. Close behind him are a number of other riders, coming from all directions, it's anarchy over first marker. Whoa, someone's fired a pulse weapon! We've got riders down everywhere and spectators running in every direction. We take you now to Charlene Tomayatsu, live at the first marker."

"This is Charlene Tomayatsu, live from the first marker in the Dusylin open cycle race. Clearly, the rest of the field has been driven into a frenzy by the unbelievable stunt pulled by unknown cyclist Cyrus Tilescu. Former unknowns are now all over the list of leaders and no one is leaving anything to chance. As we've just reported a pulse weapon has been fired at the first marker, presumably by a rider though we have no confirmation. The pulse has taken out the electronics in a number of cycles and riders are scrambling to get their bikes back on the road."

"Many of these riders are novices, and more than a few are armed. One rider is now actually standing on the first marker, waving what appears to be a stun-wand of some sort. I can just make out his designation, he's #302. Here come several riders, now, all appearing out of side roads."

Dan, or maybe the other one, cut in. "This is clearly turning into a confrontation of unprecedented violence. The approaching riders have to know that the heavyweights are breathing down their necks. What do we know about this competitor, Charlene?"

"From what I saw, his cycle was damaged beyond repair following a collision caused by the pulse."

One of the anchors cut in again "As they approach the first marker, some are colliding with one another as they emerge from different directions, some swerving around the debris. It's madness!"

"The spectators, who all cleared out when the pulse weapon discharged, are now holding their ground. Many are standing on what was the official racecourse. Some are now drawing weapons to defend themselves from further attack. Oh!"

"A spectator has just shot one of the cyclists with a projectile weapon. We've got spectators down all over the place. Perhaps the pulse took out medical implants, I don't know."

"Charlene," asked the anchor, "were you affected by the pulse yourself?"