“Please,” I say over and over to their silence.
“Shut up and be thankful you’re breathing. We could cover your head, you know,” the girl says.
We go through a dizzying maze of alleyways. I almost think they are trying to confuse me. But they keep on.
The elderly woman says, “It’s up there.” She reads info on her wrist reader. “Two lefts and a right.”
“Finally,” the girl says.
I think we are in the Liminal Area on the edge of Central. Where I got snatched by the goonda crew of street kids. I want to scratch at my neural-synch; it feels like it’s growing in my head, spreading out its tentacles. It buzzes. I hum uncontrollably.
The girl comes closer. “What’s with you?”
Her eyes are a reddish brown, a kind I’ve never seen before.
“Huh?” My eyes blink and blink, and I try to say a word, but nothing comes. It feels like I’m short-circuiting.
“I think he’s fried. Maybe the neural-synch has a trigger that injures the host if they move too far outside of Central.”
“Maybe.” The elderly woman is kind, but she has the look of someone who has already taken a life. “What’s going on in there, boy?”
My eyes are flitting back and forth endlessly. And my thoughts race faster and faster. I moan. All I can do is moan, not make words. It’s like my motor functions are crossed.
“Let’s get him inside,” says the elderly man.
The girl pushes open the metal door to a broken down mediport, and we all pile into the small room. Defunct. Shut down. This thing hasn’t been functional for years. No one has set foot inside in a long time. I’ve never seen a mediport like this before. We go to Solace Corp labs for physicals and surgery updates. Nothing like this. I wouldn’t even bring my bot here for a tune-up.
“Sit,” the girl says, after she’s already pushed me down into an exam chair and untied my wrists.
In my mind I yell, scream, beg her to tell me what she is going to do to me. But all I can say is, “H—elp.”
“Yeah, yaar, we’re going to. Just be chill. We aren’t going to hurt you. I’m supposed to get you home safe and sound, remember?” She goes through the contents of the cabinets and drawers. The other two reboot the machines and, miraculously, they restart.
The old man says, “Ha, I still have it.” He holds wires in his hand. “Nothing like a bit of old school hot-wiring.”
“Nicely done,” the older woman says.
A mediport voice says, “Welcome to Mediport 49. We are out of service, but there’s another Mediport four kilometers away. Would you like directions?”
“No. System override,” the girl types commands into the 3D projected system. Commands I’ve never seen before. She’s amazing. “We’re inside.”
“Inshallah,” the old man says.
The tall woman sits by my side and slips her hand into mine. I don’t know why she does that. But it feels nice. My heart rate goes down and my jaw relaxes, allowing words.
“Thank you,” I say.
“It’s going to be okay,” the woman says.
The girl at the command says, “No need to get friendly with our captive.”
“Ach. He’s just a boy. Not a criminal, Tiger.”
“He’s Upland scum until proven otherwise,” the girl says.
The woman leans towards me and whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t care if she’s lying, if this is another tactic. It’s all I want to hear.
“Now, try to relax,” the girl presses her hand to my forehead and positions a halo system atop my scalp. Then she clips a jaw brace and my head locks into place against the chair.
“System scan launched,” the girl says.
It feels like a feather running through my body, from system to system. Nervous, vascular, skeletal, everywhere it goes, my body twitches. It is painless, but terrifying.
“Done. The system says his body is rejecting the . . . wait, I didn’t think that was possible.”
“What?” the man asks.
The girl says, “Look,” and points to the visual. “His neural-synch. His body thinks it’s a pathogen. His immune system is trying to override it. His body is fighting itself. And his tox levels report a high dose of THink nano drugs. That stuff’s dangerous.”
“He’s going to need an immunosuppressant,” the man says. “Ashiva, do we have the materials to build one here?” When he says her name, he stops himself.
I see the girl glare at the man and know he gave her name away by mistake. Ashiva. Remember her name. Don’t forget it. I repeat it several times. Ashiva. Ashiva. Ashiva. They also call her Tiger. Don’t forget.
“Yes, we can use the 3D replicator. Rani? Can you do this? But it’s shocking they didn’t use gene therapy bots to correct his immune-response to the neural-synch. I wonder if he’s worse off than he looks.”
The tall woman sits and works. “It’s not a permanent solution. This is just a patch.”
My eyes close against my will, but I can still hear them.
I think the man injects me with something. It stings and when it reaches my bloodstream, everything tastes sweet, metallic.
I want to live.
I try to remember that thought as I drift away into a thick blanket of nothingness.
Ashiva. Ashiva. Ashiva.
22 //
Ashiva
The neural-synch is more than an invention. It’s a leap of faith. Overnight, the South Asian Province changed from a chaotic, beautiful place to an organized, somewhat soulless society.
Sure, there are still riots, and the Unsanctioned Territory outside of Central is still considered a threat to the stability of the Province, but something in the air changed when the neural-synch was rolled out. Masiji said it was the number of infrared rays moving through Central that altered the air, literally changing the ions. Masiji, I wish I knew what you were up to.
I know now that what we really felt was the soul of the city dying.
The boy isn’t older than me. Or taller. Or smarter. Or stronger. That’s clear. But he’s surely cleaner. His skin is dewy and medium brown, without a single blemish. It’s like he recently hatched, perfect, in this full-grown size and shape. Maybe in Central they make people in 3D cloners now. That wouldn’t surprise me. But he’s one of the chosen. I always thought they’d be like a different species of human.
I don’t want to be perfect. My scars make me, me. I own them and earned them. And his perfect skin makes me uneasy. Hasn’t he tripped over something before? Stubbed a toe? Been on the wrong end of a sliver of glass or metal? If we hadn’t taken him to the mediport and completed a scan, I’d have thought he’s a robot in a skin-suit.
“Stop poking the poor boy with that wire, Ashiva,” Ghaazi says. “Didn’t Masiji teach you manners?”
We are camping in a small abandoned building in the Liminal area. After the mediport visit, the boy went into a deep sleep. The system says it will be two hours before he’s conscious. And if everything works, he’ll be as right as acid rain. Immune system at bay. He’s stable. But he needs to lay off the drugs and close the neural-synch permanently, and soon. At least we bought him some time. This boy’s turning out to be a very large pain in my ass. I should have just paid Khan Zada my tithe. But then I’d have nothing left.
“It’s not sharp,” I say. “And anyway, it’s not like he’s our guest or something. He’s our captive.”
“If you treat him like an animal, we are no better than his people. And we are not equal. Never forget that. He’s altered. To what extent, we’ll never really know. But an altered mind and body and soul, not just replaced. He can’t be trusted. We don’t know how much of his humanity has been compromised,” Ghaazi says.
“Ghaaziji, you really have strong feelings about this.” Suri laughs. “You should go be a sadhu, preach about humanity.”
He stuffs a bit of roti in his mouth and says, “Achcha, well, you’re right. I’ll keep it to myself. None
of us needs a preacher right now.”
“No, what we need is to rework the plan,” I say.
“It’s already perfect,” Suri says.
“Since I’m the one going, I need to make sure we can get inside Solace Corp without being traced. I’d hate to just donate my body to Central without putting up a fight.”
“Okay. Ghaazi and I will assist from the outside, clearing the way for you. We can disable the UAVs and cameras temporarily.”
“You can?”
“I’ve done it before. I’m rusty, but I can probably buy you a few minutes here and there. We have the code ready to go. One of the benefits of being a founding engineer on the project. We will be with you in spirit.”
I toss the wire into a pile against the wall. The boy stirs and sits upright, with all these strange creases on his face from the blanket we gave him. Right on time.
Midnight. I hand him a can of water and a small bit of bread.
He takes them greedily.
“Relish it, boy, that’s a maharaja’s meal down here.”
He drinks all the water and stuffs the bread in his mouth.
“Take it easy. Don’t want to lose it in your hurry.”
“Thank you,” is all he says.
Thank you, like he’s accustomed to saying that to others who give him things willingly. He really is some kind of pampered, ullu-brained kid whose parents pave his path with gold bricks, cemented with the blood of my people.
“Well, time to go home,” I lift the boy to his feet and he looks at me like I’m going to eat him whole. “Don’t be so scared, boy. It’s not becoming on your pretty face.”
“They’ll lock onto our location as soon as we step foot inside Central. You’ll get caught and tossed,” he says. He’s cute, trying to be all intimidating.
“Yeah, we’re going to fix that.”
“Really?”
“Do I look like an entertainer?”
“Yes, I mean, no. I hear an echo. Is it just me?”
“Feedback syndrome. From the neural-synch. Sounds like a bad side effect. We gave you an immunosuppressant, I think. I don’t know actually. Never made one before, but the mediport had a previous code for one, so that’s all I could do. It’s a fix, not a cure.”
“You just gave me old code?”
“A thank-you would be nice. And, yes, we saved your ass, yaar. Why’d you let them put the neural-synch in when you obviously didn’t pass the tests? Your body doesn’t like the implant. It’s trying to kill you.”
He takes a sip of water. “My mother. She forced me.”
“Your mother.”
He just nods.
“Nice lady.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Suri says, “Not that I need to say it, but be careful. Take no unnecessary risks.” She smiles.
“And you’ll meet us at the coordinates when we send them.” I say, nodding.
“Promise.” Suri, Ghaazi and I hold each other’s gazes, and in it we say our goodbyes and wishes and hopes.
I don’t look back at them as I lead the boy out of the second-story building and down into the Liminal Area streets. We have two more stops before our mission, and I’ve wasted too much time as it is. Taru and Masiji and Zami could be anywhere, in any condition.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
He’s so ignorant, I almost feel sorry for him. But his people did this to our world. They separated, killed, sorted and left us to die. Why? Because we’re not as good as them? We’re not compliant? Our genes aren’t as perfect?
“No, I’m not. Trust is something that’s earned, not handed out to one’s enemy without reason. I’ve survived this long on my wits. Not by being nice.” I laugh at him.
“Riz-Ali.” His voice is gentle.
“What?”
“My name. There, you have it.”
I stop walking. “Alright, Riz-Ali, what’s your surname?”
He shakes his head. “One thing at a time, Ashiva.”
I bristle. He knows my name. I wonder how much he learned, if he was faking his eternal sleep. If he knows we’re Red Hand. I can always hide him in some dead-end tunnel and go forward with the plan on my own. Not that I want to be on the wrong side of Khan Zada. I have to keep my arm, even if Jai is pagal. I’ll have to repay Khan Zada and get rid of him when I get what I need.
“You know, if you weren’t so angry . . .”
My cyborg hand holds his face as gently as it can and strokes his chin, machine humming against flesh. “The last time I had to smuggle a boy who was a chatter box, he was delivered without his teeth.”
Silence is so precious.
I hit the reinforced door three times with my metal hand. The sound echoes in the space behind the door.
“What is this place?” Riz asks and inspects the symbols that decorate the wall: hexagonal forms, chemical bonds.
I lean close to the door. “Oye, it’s me. Wake up, ullus!”
Five seconds later, the process of unlocking the laboratory begins. Latches turn, levers lift, deadbolts spin, then finally a deactivation of the electrical field silences the buzz.
Then an R-77 laser cannon drops from the ceiling and we sit eye-to-eye with our own personal end of days.
“Nice touch,” I say.
Riz is pissing his pants.
From behind the door I hear, “Prove your identity.”
“Let’s see . . . I bet, right now you’re eating a snack and biting your fingernails, what’s left of them.”
“Okay, okay. Who did you bring here?”
“He’s harmless. I need your help. It’s for a special project. The one you’ve been dying to try.”
Riz turns to me with eyes like searchlights. “Special project? Testing on me?”
The door rolls open just enough for Saachi’s lovely face to show. “Good to see you, Ashiva. You understand why I have to be careful. These are evil times.” She hugs me tight.
I push into the room with Riz behind me. “I know.”
“Oh god, I’m really glad to see you.” I wrap my human arm around Saachi’s shoulders and gently squeeze.
She says, “I thought you were dead. We all did. They took everyone. I was lucky to be here when it went down. It was like watching the end of the world. Not a peep outta Central about it.”
“I’m still here,” a familiar voice speaks in the dark, massive laboratory.
“Brother!” I run to Zami, and the tears fall so fast I’m not sure I’ll be able to turn them off.
“I know, sister. It’s good to see you too.”
“I thought you were gone.”
“Tiger . . . I watched a guardian in a mecha-suit take families out of their homes and toss them into transports. I saw them kill a few men who tried to run. They, they . . . they set fire to the temple.”
I pull him close and whisper, “Zami, what about Taru? Was she with you?”
He presses his lips together hard.
“Tell me.”
“She was in the nursery when it all happened. I didn’t have time to get to her. I . . .”
I hold him and lie, “I’m sure she’s fine. Mistress was there. They could have made it to the catacombs.”
I know she was taken.
My soul aches.
23 //
Riz-Ali
The boy I hear Ashiva call Zami examines me. “Who’s the desi Uplander? Dating across divides?”
“A gift from the Lords of Shadow’s own Khan Zada,” Ashiva says. “I have to take a job for him. Long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“I met with the originators of our group. Jai brought this boy, Riz-Ali, and Khan is making me smuggle this svachchh back into Central undetected so that he doesn’t get in trouble. As tithe.”
“Not what I was expecting. How?”
“Masiji told me I had to go back to the beginning. That the originators would help. There are two left of the old hand.” She goes into a crazy stor
y, leaving out names and locations, but the gist is about some group, and something about how now she’s a sort of leader. I wonder if she’s talking about the Red Hand. It’s a long shot; there are so many gangs in the Narrows. But if so, she could know the Commander. I’m not sure what to do. On the one hand they can get me back into Central, past the daaku in the Liminal Area, but on the other hand, they’ll definitely want something from me in return. Regardless, they have all the power now.
“Going to use him to get inside, get the info on the dark off-site? Because that’s what I would do,” the one called Zami says.
The one they call Saachi turns to me. “Come with me, please.” Her warm hand touches my shoulder and she leads me to a comfortable chair. She uses extreme care as she ties my hands together, gently, but firmly. I wonder why she’s so kind and begin to think that maybe not everyone down here is rough like Khan. “Just in case you feel like touching something in my lab, don’t, okay?”
It’s a mad person’s laboratory. Stations with tech in various stages of disarray and chaos, tables with replacement body parts, and magnification lights make this a place of invention and destruction. And I am going to be their special project. My restraints are tight. Too tight to break on my own. I’ll need to find something that can cut wire if I want to go anywhere.
The three whisper just out of earshot for nearly thirty minutes and finally they seem to agree on something. Saachi is put out, but Zami and the girl are happy, almost excited.
Saachi says to me, “Because we’re not evil, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. It might help your body accept the changes as well.”
“Changes?” They lead me to a large, well-lit table in the rear of the laboratory and remove my wrist ties.
Rise of the Red Hand Page 17