baltimor highlands
In the waiting room for the road-train to the Old Federal District, I enjoy the first cup of hot coffee since the few months immediately following the secession. whilst manhattanville has been cut off from most supplies from the continent and the rest of the world, Baltimor is flush with almost every comestible, fabric, spice, or product imaginable. now that the proximity of manhattanville to the upper bay has caused a cessation in all trade with the jersey docks, the overseas traffic, that small amount which remains, which is destined for the provinces and communities between the eastern coast and the appalachians, is now driven into the once abandoned docks and warehouses of the open port of Baltimor, sparking a late renaissance in this formerly desolate burgh.
I share a lunch counter in a lime concrete cube at the entrance to the road-train terminal with a dozen other travelers. they are here for a variety of reasons; some are heading to the greener and more pleasant climes of arlingtonton after having made a comfortable fortune off the million-plus newbies who continue to stream into the baltimor zone seeking housing or at least work, some are skilled laborers who have been priced out of the inflated baltmor market by the masses and are trying to get a head start on selling their efforts to the rebuilding of arlingtonton, some are hoping to acquire a contract for security on one of the road-train lines, some clearly have no intention of confessing why they need to escape baltimor.
perhaps i am one of the last category, as my business, the simple disruption of society and the sowing of the seeds of the manhattanville experiment onto the continent, is not one which should be openly expressed in this territory, but the folks in this town seem too concerned with industry and development to worry about any transgressions of the people who are passing through the trade zone. of all the cities which have fallen into decay and disrepair, baltimor is surprisingly the only one that has not only survived but has surpassed its former success. were i to stay, some feathers might be ruffled, but as long as my business is not bad for baltimor's business, no one here asks any questions.
this openness has allowed a relaxation of travel since my departure from the pinelands. the traffic thorough the bays and canals is so great that rather than disguise my identity or hide within the false hull of a tug, crossing the bay and entering the chesapeake is a simple matter of finding a skipper and negotiating a deal to exchange goods and or work for passage. not much work needed to be done on the mechanized craft this season, so i was forced to give up my gauntlets; they will presumably be sold or traded to someone disembarking somewhere in the southern jersey swamps.
hook up w/ group w/ road-train passage paid by arling firms. steal steel insulated bottle for coffee. enter trailer; sleep to sounds of dreams related by hopeful migrants.
