False Future Read Online Free PDF Page A

not fear. We mean you only as much harm as necessary.”
    I know the voice—it belongs to the director of True Earth. The Original Miranda North I’m cloned from.
    “There is something on the island of Manhattan that we desire. When we find it, we will depart, and you will never see us again. Meanwhile, do not try to leave. As I speak, powerful turrets are being placed around the perimeter of the island. Nothing will get in or out, I assure you. Your country will try to fly planes and satellites over our airspace, and they will be shot down. But I repeat—we mean you only as much harm as necessary. Follow instructions and you will be safe. Those found acting out of order will be destroyed.”
    Two gunshots echo off the buildings, the source impossible to discover.
    “Flyers will be distributed. They will show you what we seek. The sooner we find what we want, the sooner your city will be returned to you. Take heart, citizens of New York. This is not your end.”

T he silence that follows seems to leave people dazed. A woman drops the new computer monitor she was carrying. Some people just stand around, looking up at the sky, waiting for more. Then a cab driver honks at someone standing in the street, breaking the spell. Soon many are running again, but they’re not as panicked now, as if the promise they aren’t all going to die is comforting.
    Someone actually screams, “IS THIS A JOKE?”
    A man in a blue pinstriped suit is yelling into a phone until someone plucks it from his ear and darts toward the subway escalator.
    “Don’t!” I shout, but he’s already gone.
    “We have our work cut out for us,” Rhys whispers.
    Through the trees I see more people moving toward us, but at a steady march. Definitely not pedestrians.
    I take Rhys’s hand. “We need to get inside.”
    He leads me to the north side of the nearest tower, to a posh entrance. The doorman booth is unmanned. We get into one of the elevators, and Rhys uses a key, then jabs the button labeled 53 . While it rises, I count my falling pulse. I can still hear the director’s words in my head, clearer than memory. I don’t buy that they’re not here to harm us, especially since they’ve already fired missiles around the city, but I do believe they’re looking for something. Our first order of business should be to nab one of those flyers.
    The elevator door opens onto a spacious foyer. Floor-to-ceiling windows are straight ahead, looking over the park. I run to them. Half of Central Park is on fire, but even as I watch, odd-looking aircraft hovering over the blaze spray foam that extinguishes the fire at once. It’s hard to make out details from this far away, but the jets are clearly not from this world. They’re rectangular, with one vertical engine in each of the four corners. In the streets more of those strange cars are racing around.
    From the south, four American fighter jets fly in low over the tops of buildings, their heavy guns firing, bright yellow tracers against the gray sky. Seeing them makes my chest swell with hope. So much for the director’s promise that none would get through. One of True Earth’s jets explodes in a red and black fireball. Yes! The other True Earth planes break formation, taking off at high velocities in random directions, like UFOs. The American jets are gone, circling around the northern tip of Manhattan for another pass.
    Closer, toward the middle of Central Park, I can see the edges of the Black. It’s a familiar void in the shape of a circle, a hole in the very fabric of our world. I never wanted to see it again, and I thought I would never have to.
    On foot, the Rose army pours out of the park and advances south. Groups of them filter through the streets in that same steady march I saw outside.
    “Miranda,” a familiar voice says behind me.
    When I turn, Noble stands there just as I remember him: tall, blond, and bearded, with a smile that you can’t help but let warm you. I only saw him a day ago,