Only Forward by Michael Marshall Smith

they'd be back there somewhere, dutifully trudging up the pipe and miserably complaining to each other about the aches in their backs, but as far as catching me went, they were out of the frame.
    After a few hundred yards the tunnel opened into a dimly-lit room, and as I sped through I noticed an elevator in one corner. That was obviously the way the guards got down here, but as it doubtless opened in a police station it was no use to me. After the room the tunnel returned to its previous size and I raced up it, knowing I didn't have much time.
    After another quarter mile I came to a junction. Following Snedd's route I pelted up the left fork. The gradual upward slope of the pipe was levelling out, and I guessed that I was now only about a few yards below street level. I ignored the first ladder I passed, and the second, but when I came to the third I leapt up at it and shinned quietly to the top. Above me was a manhole, and I paused for the briefest of moments, forgetting about the Centre, about Red, about Sound and Natsci, and just thinking Stable, Stable, Stable.
    The world is very small, I thought, and I like it that way. I'm very lucky and content to be here, because outside the wall is a lethal wasteland. I know, because I've seen it, heard about it, learnt about it in school. We tried expansion, tried to go further than we should, and look what happened. The whole thing was a complete disaster. No, I'm really very happy where I am. Oh look, it's eleven o'clock: think I'll go to bed.
    Then I shoved the manhole up, moved it to the side and popped out onto the street.

5
    'And finally, the main points again. The rate of inflation has fallen for the third month running, to 4.5 per cent.
    'Colette Willis, gold medallist in the Stable Games, has broken the 100 metres breaststroke record for the fourth time.
    'Scientists from the Principle Institute agree that estimates on levels of external toxicity may have to be revised upwards again. It now appears that the level of radiation outside Stable will remain at; fatal levels for at least another two hundred years.
    'The weather: tomorrow will be a bright day, with light rain between 9.00 and 10.05 a.m.
    That's it from us: we'll leave you with more footage of Gerald the talking duck. Goodnight.'
    Half an hour later I was sitting nonchalantly in a cafe about a mile away, drinking a rather nice cup; of coffee, smoking a relaxed cigarette and reading the paper. Stable scientists had run yet more tests, I read, and were now sadly confident that it would be at least three hundred years before it was safe to go out. That story was on page six. Good news" about the economy was on the cover, sports pages two and three, and some duck that could talk took up most of four. Sooner or later I was going to have to get on with the job, but for the time being I felt I deserved a coffee. It was now twelve o'clock, after all, and I hadn't had one since leaving the apartment. I was in, I was alive, and everything was going according to plan.
    Okay, I admit I was kind of lucky in the tunnel. Three guys with machine guns would have been more of a handful. The plan, if you're interested, was to throw the Flu Bomb so that it broke the light as it detonated, and then run and jump.
    Would have been a bit touch and go, I admit, but there you are. What can I say? I had a lucky break for once: do you begrudge me that? Well, shut up then.
    There were only three people in the backstreet into which I emerged from the tunnel, an old man with a dog and a young housewife pushing a baby in a pram. At first they did look mildly surprised to see me, but I had a plan.
    'Well,' I said, dusting off my hands, 'you don't need to worry about that any more!'
    They had no idea what I was talking about, of course, but it sounded reassuring so they forgot about the whole thing and went about their business. I strode confidently up the street, head held high, quietly content that everything was so nice in here when there was