Neon Sands Trilogy Boxset: The Neon Series Season One

by Adam J. Smith

  “Two birds, one stone,” he said. His voice sounded odd in the confined space. The bed smelled like pancake batter. The space above his head swirled. Clarisse’s face appeared, stretched and distorted. In time, the elastic of her skin pulled everything together again, except there was a round bullet hole in her forehead that dripped blood down onto him. The droplets splashed on his face and he couldn’t wipe them away. Didn’t want to wipe her away. Wanted her to stay, even if he ended up saturated in her blood. Give me a smile, he thought, as she looked down, deadpan, eye-sockets hollow with ash. This is what you wanted, right? This is what you wanted. Her face faded into the shadows and yet she still dripped on him – drip, drip – wetting first one cheek, then the other. As he fell asleep there was some understanding that his head lay beneath an open vent and that it was likely just condensation falling on him, and he understood Clarisse had never been there to begin with.

  Heart

  Caia approached the second barrier with an arm raised, gesturing with a badge in her hand. A spotlight shone brightly beyond her, and in silhouette Calix watched as she walked up to a booth beside a turnstile. He then realised there was a guard sitting inside who startled when she rapped on the window. Faintly, the guard said “How did you get up here?” and then, “Oh…”

  Caia said, in the clear way she had of speaking; “Help me push the turnstiles open so I can get through with these two.” The guard, who had been paying close attention to the badge in her hand, nodded and rushed from the booth. Badge or no badge, Calix wondered if the guard would’ve been just as obliging, anyway.

  “Everything okay, Hue?” a voice called out.

  “Fine!” Hue shouted back.

  Caia waved for them to come stand behind her. On the other side of the barrier, the guard stood ready to lend a hand, looking uncertain.

  “Come on then,” said Caia.

  The guard shuffled from one foot to the other. “Look, things are going a bit crazy. Everyone’s been evacuated and there’s no power.” He swallowed. “In ordinary circumstances I’d have to scan you for verification.”

  “This isn’t a normal situation. You have my badge.” Caia pulled something else out from an inside pocket of her jacket. “And this.”

  Calix flinched, expecting a gunshot.

  “Satisfied?”

  He peered around Caia and noticed the guard looking at a small piece of card. “Alright,” he said. “But who are they?”

  “None of your business.” Caia replaced the card in her jacket, but kept her hand tucked beneath the fold. “Help us through.”

  The guard nodded and pulled on the turnstile while Caia pushed. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  “Should I say it again?”

  He looked to his feet and continued dragging on the turnstile until it was wide enough for the three of them to squeeze through.

  “Close it back up again and then stay here in case anyone follows us. You two: with me.” She raised her gun to Calix and Elissa and forced them to walk ahead of her. Another guard, presumably the one who had called out earlier, came towards them but stepped aside when he saw what was going on.

  Calix lead the way towards a dimly lit corridor, and Caia didn’t correct him. He was afraid to look at the guards directly and so only noticed them from his periphery, but they were rigid, evidently scared of Caia. Or what she represented. It wasn’t too difficult to put two-and-two together. When he’d put enough distance between himself and the guard, his lungs expanded like they had at the top of the mountain, gulping in air and taking in the view. Only the view hadn’t changed. It was the same marble floors and ceilings and curved, ornate sconces, and some kind of gilded chandelier hung high in the eaves of the large lobby to add to the opulence.

  “Are we topside?” he whispered.

  He expected a hush, or just silence, but Caia responded with a “Yes.”

  On second thoughts, maybe he was still only half-way up the mountain.

  “Feels the same,” said Elissa, quietly. “But I can’t wait to have the sun on my skin.”

  “You’ll have to wait longer yet, hun,” said Caia, striding past them. “Quickly, this way.”

  Calix looked back; they’d turned a corner at some point and the guards were nowhere to be seen. Ahead, Caia started racing up steps. Elissa followed on her heels. More steps, he thought, and took them. “It’s still muggy and stinks,” he said, without reply.

  Footsteps echoed down from above and from around a corner a tall woman appeared, dressed in a long purple dress with a slit up the side, and heels – the clacking culprits – her hair long in a side ponytail. “You looking for someone?” she panted. “’Cause if you are, I’ve not seen anyone. Everyone’s evacuated by the looks of it. Can you smell that?” She stopped a few steps short of Caia and could only watch as she was ignored completely. Elissa did the same, and when it came to his turn, he nodded and smiled apologetically, then bounded on.

  “How rude,” said the woman. Clack-clack, clack-clack. She faded away as Calix turned the corner and continued up. Eventually they came to another lobby, this one carpeted and with walls that looked like normal plaster. The lighting hung in strips down the middle of the ceiling, and tables and chairs placed in an orderly grid looked abandoned; there were plates of half-finished food and mugs half-empty on the outer tables. Calix resisted the urge to go and grab what appeared to be a sandwich. Still the smell hung, and the muggy fog too was more apparent here, though not as bad as before.

  Caia pushed through a small door, almost hidden in the wall. In fact, Calix couldn’t even see a door handle. She held it open as they entered, and peered around the door to make sure no-one was watching before letting it fall back into place. It slotted perfectly into the frame without a sound.

  She turned around, and for the first time he noticed how young she looked. The sands had really been doing a number on her and now she was back in comfort, out from the exposure, he supposed; the years had been turned back. The muted light lit her from above but her face was free of shadows where some should have been at the corners of eyes and mouth. “Now what?” he asked her.

  “Now we hope the back-up generators are powering the lift,” she said, pushing a button hidden in the wall.

  “Do you sleep okay?”

  “Cal,” said Elissa.

  “No, no; she doesn’t just get to roll over and pretend she’s innocent.”

  She met his eyes. “You’re right. I’m not innocent. Now’s not the time, though.”

  Calix opened his arms, looking around. “Why not? What’re we waiting for?”

  “You want to see Annora, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I don’t like the way you say that, though. I don’t just want to ‘see’ Annora, I want to rescue her.”

  “You don’t even know what that means.”

  “Then tell me!”

  Caia huffed and put her hand to the wall for support, hiding the glowing button.

  He took a step towards her. “Barrick told me about you two.”

  “If you weren’t so self-absorbed you’d have already known.”

  “Just like that, eh? You act like Kirillion killing him is nothing.”

  “Why do you think I’m helping you, you idiot? There’s a kill order out on you, did you know that? On both of you. I should be sending Kirillion a picture of your dead bodies. Instead we’re taking advantage of the current... situation. It’s a miracle you weren’t found earlier, you know? These cameras are everywhere.” She pointed to the corner. “They scan your faces.”

  “We had them covered most of the time,” said Elissa.

  “I guessed that. That; and there’s no clear telemetry of your face in the records, are the only things that kept you hidden for so long.”

  Elissa turned to the camera. “So why isn’t it on now? What’s with the lights and the smoke?”

  Calix held his tongue; he knew she was trying to defuse the situation.

  “My guess; a friends of ours ha
s caused a ruckus down in maintenance. Probably isolated the exhaust pipes, which is backing up all the fumes. Electricity and link connectivity cut. That’s really why everyone has evacuated. The streets will be crammed with people trying to get online.”

  “So just like that – you’re on our side?” he asked in a condescending tone.

  “What’s the plan?” Elissa put her hand on the wall, feeling for vibrations by the look on her face.

  “You’re safe in this building while the power’s out. We head to the top. You wait. I bring Annora to you. Everybody lives happily ever after.”

  “And then what?” He asked this not in anger, but with genuine curiosity. Simmering beneath the surface all this time was just that question; one that he’d never been able to answer. If he did manage to rescue Annora – where would they go? How would they survive? “How do you get out of here?”

  “That’s not my problem. I’ll have my own problems to worry about.”

  Elissa put a hand on Caia’s shoulder, drawing her attention. “He means to say thank you.”

  “The fuck do I. Barrick’s dead because of her. And fuck knows what they’ve done with Annora. Why did you even take her?”

  He stepped closer. “Wipe that smile from your face.”

  Her face quivered. He could see a part of her fall. What had been the hint of a smile started to shake and her eyes turned reflective. “I’m sorry. It was my job. It was my whole reason for being there. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Barrick was in the wrong place at the wrong time – you should never have been there!”

  “Don’t shift the blame.” He planted a finger between her collarbones. He wanted to press so hard, but he could see there was already pain on her face. She looked to her feet, unable to meet his eyes anymore, and she shook with her hands firmly at her sides.

  An arm appeared between them and Elissa pulled him away. “She’s helping, Cal. Let’s let her help.”

  “I’m sorry, Cal. I really am.”

  Elissa turned back to her. “This plan of yours. Can it work?”

  “Annora’s had more frequent city visits lately. I could just be another chaperone. This could be just another one of those visits.”

  “And after? I mean – is it possible to live here undetected?”

  Caia shrugged. “There’s pockets. People who de-chip themselves. So long as they cause no trouble the authority generally doesn’t interfere. Of course...” she looked up. “Cal, I have to be honest. I’ve been looking for you to kill you – I have. I should. I don’t know what can be gained from this situation. I saw you on the screen and thought about what you must’ve been through to get this far...” She paused, and he waited for her to continue.

  “I’ll bring her to you, but, unless you have some grand plan; it can only be temporary. A way to say goodbye. She’s far too valuable that they would just give her up. Well... too valuable that Kirillion would give her up.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s the answer to every question you can ask. She’s a walking vault. Locked up inside her is the complete history of humanity. Everything we’ve ever done and everything we’ve ever known.”

  His mouth went dry and he felt a pain forming behind his brow as he tried to work out what that meant. It took a couple swallows, then he managed to ask “How?”

  “The place we found. It was the Arc. It’s what we were looking for all this time. Knowledge. It was stored down where we went, but degrading, and I had no choice but to use Annora as a vessel.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Elissa.

  “I used the remaining power to transfer the data to her DNA. It’s weaved into her very being.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to. I don’t! Not really. But for the last few months Kirillion has been looking at ways to extract it. Apparently, it’s a lot easier to get it in than it is to get it out. And while she’s a walking encyclopaedia, she’ll never be free.”

  The bag. The bag on his back. It was suddenly the heaviest thing he’d ever had to carry. He shrugged it from his shoulders and didn’t even hear the sound it made as it hit the floor. There was only the rising headache. He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, clutching; maybe that would offset the headache. “No, no,” he said, breath quickening. “There has to be a way. Who gives a fuck what’s inside her? She’s not a machine.”

  “If she were, she’d have been dead long ago.”

  A humming, rumbling sound came from the wall. “Finally,” said Caia. “Grab your bag.” She wiped her face and straightened the lapels of her jacket, and faced the wall.

  He reached for the dead weight, imagining it weighed down by all the grand fantasies of rescue and happily ever after that had been the source of so much hope. It was hope in that bag, and he couldn’t pick it up.

  The wall separated.

  A line of light broke down the centre of the room from floor to ceiling. As that line widened, shadows – multiple shadows – shaped like humans, painted upon the surface. Calix looked up.

  “Well, well, well – who do we have here?” said Kirillion.

  Rectangle

  She rested on the window seat with her head against the window, looking out. Her eyes kept returning to the same spot just beyond the window. Down a little. There it was; the reflection of her arm. Not much from the room made it into the realm beyond the window, for the lights were low, but her arm did. Missing from her arm was a large rectangular patch of skin. Perhaps a little of the flesh beneath it, too. Covered in a clear, gelatinous goo that seemed to be hardening over time; it reflected back black. On the true side of the mirror it was dark-red, fading rapidly from the bright red of her blood. It should hurt. A part of her was missing, after all. When she touched it and the area around it, it was numb. The skin on her arm didn’t register any touch at all.

  She was thankful. Not especially so, for a little discomfort would have felt real. She’d know for sure she was in the real world. How her skin felt numb; it could easily have been the result of a program inside the link fooling her into not feeling any pain. Only her mind-numbing boredom gave away that this was not the link. She was not playing some game.

  But being played.

  Toyed with.

  Torn apart.

  She ran a finger over her missing piece. Somewhere, they were experimenting on something that had been a part of her. Which was now gone.

  So much of her was now gone.

  Everything she had ever known.

  In the most painful depths of her self-induced starvation, she thought of Calix. That hunger seemed right, somehow; to partner with the emptiness she felt when she thought of him. The tide of stomach cramps rose as she sat there, wondering when they would let her out into the city again. It had been four days since the last visit, and three days since her last meal.

  She hoped for another visit soon, so that she could eat.

  At the same time, she hoped there’d be none.

  Don’t be too mad at me, Cal.

  As a tourist in a strange land, every time Kirillion, or sometimes Panette, took her out, something new always stood out. She’d only been outside five times so far. That first time, the scale and size of Neon City was what struck her most. From the height of her room, the city could almost be a child’s play-thing; unseen hands moving the vehicles along far below in the streets. Standing on the top of one of the towers brought another feeling entirely. It made her feel small. The towers she knew were just beyond the next were impossible to see. This was a city you could get lost in.

  A thought which had given her hope.

  Those hopes were quashed on the second visit. Panette, who seemed ageless; hair blonde and twisted up over her head; the skin on her face pale and smooth into which bloodless lips disappeared: showed her inside one of the surveillance rooms at the top of the tower. “Say a name,” she had requested.

  “Calix.”

  On the screen appeared a list of peop
le in the city called Calix. From Calix Aanholt on page one, to Calix van Schlute on page thirteen. A tab above the list said Alive.

  “Choose one.”

  “Alderman.”

  Panette selected Calix Alderman and gestured at the screen with a drawing-in motion. A man’s face appeared. He was middle-aged and near bald, and his chin disappeared into his neck. After a few seconds of staring at the screen she understood that it wasn’t a picture but a moving image. And live. He was standing at a street-market bar beneath a red-and-white striped canopy, holding a sandwich or a burger, it was hard to tell. Then the camera zoomed in and she could see the burger juices dribbling from his mouth and down his chin. He mopped them up with a napkin held in the other hand. A bite and a wipe. A perpetual grin.

  “You see – we’re always watching,” said Panette.

  Panette never said much usually. Annora preferred her escort because it meant not being distracted by another one of Kirillion’s stories. She could really soak everything in.

  Streams of nameless people visited her the first week here. Since then, further nameless men and women in white bodysuits, Panette, Kirillion and Caia, had been her only contacts. Those in the bodysuits ran tests on her. Operated on her. Gave her the link connection.

  Panette seemed to be like Kirillion, only less enthusiastic.

  And Caia had been the first to tell her why she was there.

  “Why didn’t you just use your own body?”

  “And have them poking and prodding me from sun-up to sun-down? No thanks.”

  “It could’ve killed me.”

  “But it didn’t. Look at you now – the Queen of Neon City.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m sorry.”

  Truth was, Annora didn’t blame her. Didn’t blame anyone here if what they said was true. If she really did have the history of humanity within her, and knowledge Kirillion said had been lost ‘for centuries’, than a single sacrifice was worth it. Just sucked that it had to be her.