Connor instinctively flinched as the first rays of sunshine struck. He didn’t need to worry. The Isle of Hull was fully shielded behind the massive glass filter-wall. He watched as the sun rose into the sky, perfectly reflected in the sheltered sea.
Some serious early morning swimmers were ploughing up and down in the calm protected strip. The waves battered helplessly against the base of the filter-wall. Once the sun had risen sufficiently the wall’s bottom flaps would open, allowing waves to pass through unhindered. At intervals along the miles of promenade they would be artificially boosted to create a perfect surfers paradise.
Connor wasn’t a surfer. He wasn’t a swimmer and he was no early riser.
‘I’m heading off to bed,’ he said.
A few of his fellow all-night revellers acknowledged his movement. Several were still under the influence of last night’s excesses. The sunrise captivated their full attention and they made no reply.
He walked under the solar shields towards the hotel. The Isle of Hull boasted the largest hotel in the world. It was built by the multi-billionaire Jack Ellerman after the original city of Kingston-upon-Hull on the east coast of the United Kingdom sank beneath the rising sea, splitting off a section of coastline. Ellerman bought the entire newly created island from Withernsea to Hornsea and built an exclusive, solar-safe, temperate resort for the mega rich.
A young woman placed her hand on his chest to stop him walking further.
‘Are you ready for your next experience?’
She waved a piece of paper in front of his face.
‘I have one ticket for The Peloton. It’ll be the ride of your life. Imagine seeing sunrise on the Isle of Hull and watching sunset at the Solar Towers of Blackpool.’
Blackpool sat on another climate-change island created after half the town succumbed to rising sea levels. The airport and pleasure beach sat on higher ground so survived. A disaster-profiteer spotted the opportunity for more exclusivity.
‘The Peloton? Is that some kind of train carriage?’
The woman rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t know the Peloton? Where have you been?’
Connor had spent the last two years, and a good proportion of his inheritance, travelling the world looking for something to capture his interest. He doubted this woman had even heard of half of the places he’d been. He was tempted to roll his eyes right back at her.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him along the road. Another young woman joined her, pulling her own reluctant voyager.
‘The Peloton.’
It was like nothing Connor had seen before. It was arrow shaped. There was one seat at the front, flanked by two more set slightly back. The next row contained three seats, then four, until there must have been at least ten at the back of the contraption.
Almost all the seats were occupied. People waved, or held up drinks in welcome.
Connor’s fellow conscript was helped into an empty place and immediately supplied with a large glass of greenish liquid.
‘Please. Sit.’
Connor hesitated.
A young man leant forward from the seat behind.
‘Don’t worry man. It’s an adventure.’
‘It’s safe,’ said a woman in the next seat along. ‘Look up there. It’s fully solar protected. It uses solar power so there’s no way they’re going waste all those solar rays by letting them fry you.’
‘And it’s people powered too,’ said the man and he pointed to a set of bicycle like pedals set at the base of each seat. ‘You can pedal to top up the energy.’
‘And you can drink to top up your energy,’ said a man holding up a glass full of the green liquid.
‘What have you got to lose?’ said the young woman who was still holding his hand.
Connor eased himself into the seat. It moved to hug his body in a comfortable embrace. A glass of green froth appeared in front of him. He took a sip and winced.
‘Yeah. Doesn’t taste great but it’s pure energy, man.’
He took a larger sip and felt a tingle all the way down to his stomach.
An older woman stood at the arrow’s point.
‘We are complete,’ she said.
‘We are complete,’ echoed the riders.
‘That’s Mother Mary. She’s been riding the Peloton for decades.’
Connor felt vibrations, heard a low hum and the Peloton started to rise into the air.
‘It’s a hover-bike. Floats above the road. Floats across the flood planes with no friction, right. We’ll be at the Solar Towers in time for lunch.’
The man was right. The Peloton practically flew across the ground on it air cushions, that also allowed it to slip into and over the inland Sea of Goole. They climbed into the Pennine hills that were unaffected by rising sea levels but had suffered huge political turmoil. The M62 motorway was shielded by massive hoardings and patrolled by combat drones to provide the one safe route from east to west. Once they crested the highest point the riders seemed to relax and the party atmosphere intensified as they sped along so fast that Connor was no longer able to read any of the advertising on the enclosing hoardings.
He stopped pedalling; there seemed to be no rules or requirements. Some riders pedalled furiously to the exclusion of everything else. Others chatted or sang. Some climbed out of their seats and weaved among the riders distributing drinks and food.
When Connor spotted the huge monolithic Solar Towers he wondered what arrangement the Peloton had made. Entrance to the Isle of Blackpool was strictly controlled. All the clientele arrived by private plane, with the heavily guarded Yeadon Way land-bridge providing access for staff. When the Peloton entered the harbour at Preston he guessed that they must have special permission to enter from the marshland leading up to Lytham St Annes.
He was almost right. They did cross the marsh but rather than climbing back on to dry land they continued around the island.
Connor looked up at the soaring Solar Towers that seemed to cut into the sky. Their fractal surfaces absorbed the fierce radiation of the sun and channelled it down to the grid that powered the illuminations.
They were on his list of things to see. The light show was rumoured to outshine the 20th or 21st century illuminations tenfold. Which meant it was bright enough that even in the noon-day sun, even in the reduced atmosphere, even with the increase in solar intensity, the lights were impressive. He could imagine that once the sun had set they would look amazing.
One more sight ticked off. Maybe he’d been travelling too long, seen too much. It was spectacular but what was the point of it all? Was it really worth it, just so that those as rich as himself could oh and ah over the view? And so much energy. Clean energy now, but that wasn’t always the case.
The riders started to chant.
‘Blackpool, Blackpool, Blackpool. The peloton salutes you.’
Connor raised his clenched fist and joined in the chant.
‘Blackpool, Blackpool, Blackpool. The peloton salutes you.’
The Peloton continued along the promenade until the light show receded into the distance.
‘Are we not stopping?’
The man next to him laughed.
‘The Peloton never stops.’
‘But it stopped on the Isle of Hull. That’s where I got on. It’s where all my stuff is.’
‘The Peloton never stops,’ the man repeated.
The man in front of Connor turned his head and whispered, ‘Except to fill the empty seats.’
‘But…’
‘And to stock up on supplies.’
As the man spoke a hatch opened in front of each rider revealing a nutrition bar and another green frothy drink.
‘But what about…’
Connors questions were drowned out by a new chant.
‘Veni, Vidi, Verti.’
‘Veni, Vidi, Verti.’
Connor recognised the quote but it wasn’t right. The last word should be Vici; conquered. But the chanters were definitely saying Verti. He dug into his schoolboy Latin and remembered enough to guess the meaning.
I came, I saw, I turned.
The Peloton left Blackpool behind and continued up the coastline. He tried to get up from his seat but the comfortable embrace wouldn’t release him.
Connor struggled for a moment longer and then sunk back and let the Peloton carry him.
‘Do you know where we are going?’
‘Who cares?’ said the man behind.
‘We’ll know when we get there,’ said the woman next to him.
‘You bet it will be somewhere interesting.’
‘If we carry on in this direction we’ll hit Morecombe Marsh.’
Morecombe Marsh wasn’t on his list, but who cares? He’d lost interest in his list. He’d seen so much that meant so little. Maybe it was time to sit back and let others decide where he went and what he saw.
‘Morecombe Marsh?’ said Connor. ‘What’s so special about Morecombe Marsh?’
‘Haven’t you heard about the massive flamingo flocks? There’s millions, man.’
Connor relaxed and started pedalling.
‘Sounds interesting,’ he said.
