by J D Cortese
“Why? I'm not allowed to touch it?”
“Wait a second,” he said, and stopped the AV’s recursive transiency. “Now, you can.”
Sarinda tried again to touch the extraordinarily shiny surface, but her hand passed through, almost up to her elbow. She recoiled, shuddering.
“See? It might be invisible now,” he said, “though, it is still transient...penetrable? I was afraid it would make itself solid when your hand was inside.”
“Is this a smart machine?”
“Smart? Sure, most of these vehicles could write novels if asked and be better at it than humans.”
“That's incredible. How are you sure it won’t let my hand get trapped inside it?”
“It should know not to do it, but I don't trust this technology to be completely safe.” He was considering how the Towers might think that replacing a watcher's arm with a bio-electronic one was less costly than improving the molecular sieving capabilities of their transports. “Let's just not risk it,” he said. “Maybe this AV is too busy writing poetry.”
“Okay, but can we climb it?”
“Sure.”
The AV cabin opened in the next instant, and Agdinar was astonished to see that there was now a second seat, a little behind the controls. “Looks like it likes you, and wants you to ride inside,” he said, trying to put her at ease. But actions like adding seats might trigger a report, and that could be very bad for him, or for both of them.
Sarinda didn't get the humor in Agdinar's comment and tried to climb on what was obviously her side of the AV's cockpit. The surface near them turned opaque gray, and it grooved in two spots, helping her to get a hold.
...Our transport is quite the gentleman.
...I see it, but have trouble believing it, Dhern.
...We will have plenty of time to worry about your girl. She's the reason we are in the trouble of the ages.
Sarinda was already sitting, and there was no reason to keep mind-chatting with Dhern. Agdinar jumped over the strike of gray and entered to the left of his new friend.
Inside the cabin, Sarinda felt unsettled and kept shifting on her seat. It was a small cockpit, with floating seats and ghostly screens, quite different from anything she might have seen in her world.
The AV could pilot itself very well, but Agdinar still lay on his back to observe the position of the Towers overhead. He didn't know if they would encounter patrols going in and out of their stations, and military AVs had retention beams that could snare their AV and take it (and them) back to the sky city.
He finally concentrated enough to get the AV to levitate and start moving along the park’s visitor path. A wave of his head—interpreted by the vehicle's AI as a command—made them invisible as they gained altitude over the park.
“Oh. My. God. This runs so smoothly...I don't feel anything.”
“It's not the flying. We have a gravity controller, so you won't feel any vibration, or—”
“A gravity what?”
“Just look outside, for a second.”
Agdinar made the AV turn upside down, and kept it flying inverted and around the park's main lake. They were still feeling the tug of gravity tying them to their seats.
“Is this some trick? It can't be so strong, that gravity thing,” she said, pointing upwards to the park’s lake surface.
“No, it's just an effect inside the cabin. It has a 90 percent artificial gravity that’s always pointing down, and additional dampers to eliminate the shaking, really any vibration. We can stay like this, inverted, as we go all around the world, and you won't feel where the ground is.”
“Now, I'm starting to believe you come from the future.”
“I'll do better than this. Trust you won't get scared.”
Agdinar steered the AV toward the Tiantang Building, the Chinese arrowhead skyscraper that towered over every other structure in New York City and was greatly hated by its residents.
“What are you going—?” Sarinda managed before her breathing ran out.
They were heading, still upside down, straight to the west face of the 280-floor monster. Several advertisements and a movie were playing on its four sixty-floor-high screens.
Before she could say anything else, they were on the other side, with only a blurred memory of people walking upside down, thin walls, and three groups of elevators they'd crossed in an instant.
Agdinar had finally taken her to his world of ghosts.
Chapter 10
After the terrifying demonstration of the AV's capabilities, Agdinar started to search for Tysa by using Dhern's powers to get into every recording camera from the city. He asked Sarinda for a wrist-image of her friend and transferred it to a novo-network he'd created within the AV's storage.
It took only minutes to get something back. It was a harrowing scene, where two hooded Hawks were dragging Tysa by her armpits, while a third one watched as he swiveled a large automatic rifle. The view was coming from the entrance to City Hall Plaza.
This was not good news, as the building the Hawks had occupied there was the most heavily guarded and armed of all the ones the Hawks controlled. It was the true hangout of the Hawknights.
“I think she's there now,” he said. “This image set is very recent.”
“But those buildings…they are hard to get into. Lots of Hawks would be watching the entrances.”
“We will have to approach the park from the ground,” he said, not very convinced that they could do that. He was trying to sound confident to Sarinda's ears, while fear collected ice deep inside him. The idea of confronting a large gang of armed insurgents, more criminals than ideologues, in their lair, and trying to extract a single captive from an immense building, did something to his composure. It was completely irrational, and he knew it. It had been almost a day since he'd left Tower City, and perhaps he could still figure out some excuse and return.
“Where are you going? We are not running away, aren’t we?” Sarinda said, her intense eyes peering at him. “I saw how you looked at that building.”
“We can sustain invisibility, and transiency, but not long enough to rescue her. And we can’t bring the AV—we should leave it in hiding.”
As soon as he'd said the words, the AV started a descent, fast enough to make Sarinda straighten up in her seat.
They were a few feet above the street, a winding one that crossed a sizeable portion of Chinatown. Restaurants and sidewalk stands were now deserted. A food cart lay toppled by a presumably hard collision with a lamppost. All doors leading to the street were wide open. Lights were off in all the entrances; each seemed like a black rectangle had been propped up toward the street. And the wind swung around hanging cords holding the remnants of festive decorations.
The dirty bomb had exploded during the Chinese New Year.
No human being was—or could be—on these streets. And, given the state of the abandoned cars, and the many rotten rats and dogs’ carcasses strewn everywhere, it had been like that since the attack.
They both knew this well. Chinatown was a deserted blot in the city, hot from radiation for the foreseeable future. It had been the worst attack in New York's history. Eight thousand had died after first exposure and twice as many in the following years.
It was a reminder for Agdinar of the destructive nature of humanity—it didn't matter that they hadn’t found the culprit, humanity was still guilty. If the Hawks had done something for New York, it was to stop the xenophobic wave that led to the 2030s surge of violence against Americans of Hispanic and Asian origin.
“I know you wanted to hide your plane,” said Sarinda, “but this is dangerous."
“The radiation? Yes, it is, but we're protected here, although it can be more of a problem out there. We are going to fix it.”
Sarinda felt something on her leg, and, as soon as she touched it, it started to spread over her hand.
“Ah, Agdinar,” she shouted.
“Don't worry, it's your suit.”
“This—what is this
?”
“Calm down, it is nano-matter creating a suit for you. Give it a couple of minutes. Please, breathe calmly, slowly. It won't hurt you.”
Agdinar held her hand, and the strange material crawled over his forearm; then, it realized its mistake, withdrew, and came back to her body.
The transformation of Agdinar's suit was astounding. In a few seconds, controls and small screens had appeared all over his arms and chest, and, with a stealthy swing, a transparent bubble surrounded his head. It was so thin Sarinda would barely see it.
“It's all done. Yours too.”
“Mine? But I don't—”
Sarinda raised her arms and stared at them. Her suit was a match to Agdinar’s and had the same strange golden veins and multiple viewers. Her entire body was suited, even down to matching blue boots.
“See? It's all there, just like mine.”
And he proceeded to knock on her helmet, which was already enclosing her head though she hadn't seen or felt it.
Five thousand years in the future, everything seemed to have been made by magic.
They quickly climbed out of the AV. Sarinda couldn't feel the wind or the cold, just see its effects. The snow and rain of the past night had accumulated into a slushy coat that covered both the streets and sidewalks.
“Let's go. We will leave the AV here, with a protective shield. To save energy during recharge. It's going to be safe—nobody would ever come this way.”
Agdinar guided Sarinda to the nearest perimeter wall, which cut across Columbus Park. With their suits on, opening the gates would be easy.
* * *
They entered the plaza from its north side—the Brooklyn Bridge, closed by the Hawks for the last six years, couldn't be seen—and the view confused Agdinar. He had never observed the area from a street-level view; none of his peers had, as most of their detection screens were watching from their spot in the sky. No reason to look around the streets, or to access the street cameras, other than when deviation events were being detected.
Most of the time, his people would have only the view of the gods.
He had never been in that plaza or seen City Hall as more than a cover picture on a view-file, usually from well before its front got covered with dirt and paint, scribbled until it resembled a gigantic sample of street art.
Agdinar knew little about the city from the perspective of a human who lived there. Sarinda knew more about her world than he knew about his.
Agdinar was a foreigner in either end of time, and he might never find a place to belong, whether above or below, in his tower in the clouds or in this decrepit city which not long ago had been gorgeous.
He decided to talk with Sarinda, trying to stay away from dark thoughts. “Do you know this? I mean City Hall.”
“Not really. Nobody who's not a Hawk is ever allowed nearby. They'll kill us on sight.”
“So, it's lucky they cannot sight us.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“I'm nervous,” he said, and his wavering voice did more to explain it.
“But you said they cannot see us.”
“Sure, but if someone shoots at us, we can get hurt.”
“So, we are not really safe.”
“You really want to make me more nervous, don’t you?”
“Sorry, this is really hard to accept,” Sarinda said, extending her arm as if to touch her view of the plaza. “I don't see my body. How does it work?"
Agdinar could see Sarinda only in his viewer, as a ghostly image. It was disorienting not to see the real bodies of others, or one’s own. “It’s really a field,” he said. “Think of a mirror that takes the image from one side and shifts it to the other. It doesn't happen all the time, but fast enough that they won't notice you. You’re peeking in between the cycles, so you get to see through.”
“Thanks for the didactic talk. Now I understand even less…my point was, can they hurt us, with their guns?”
“Well, no. The suits can protect us.”
But Agdinar didn't know for sure, and his voice might have betrayed it. He was linking their suits with an invisibility command. Like all spells, it had a cost, and they wouldn't be completely transient. Which could mean a bullet might not be able to completely pass through them—not so different from being shot.
Chapter 11
They stayed hidden behind an old blue car, rusted so much it resembled a huge pebble battered by the sea. It was dead center across the arches and columns leading to the huge building across City Hall Plaza, and it was just one of maybe fifty wrecked vehicles arranged as a soft barrier to any frontal attack to the Hawks' stronghold. The massive building—a cross between skyscraper and Greek temple—was already a little lost in the city’s past. Few people knew that it wasn't called City Hall, and it had been once known as the D. N. Dinkins Municipal Building.
“Look, over the steps,” Agdinar said, trying to break a very long silence.
“What? I don't see anything.”
“There's a pattern. Two Hawks are coming to the entrance every sixty minutes, replacing two guards each time. They do that—with two of them relieved from duty each time—twice. Then four Hawks are replaced at once to level their load. Each cycle takes three hours.”
“And you saw all that while we were setting camp here?” Sarinda pointed to the upturned car they were using as a refuge.
“It's not so hard. Just keeping time.”
“But we were moving earlier between the...how could you?”
“I did set a timer and cameras, with my suit.”
“I don't see any controls,” Sarinda said, staring at the blinking lights that crawled over her suit’s forearms.
“You are the control. Think, think on measuring time.”
“I can't get—oh, wow!”
“You see it, don’t you?”
“Several timers—I can see them floating around.”
Agdinar saw Sarinda move away, distracted, and touched her shoulder to stop her. “They are linked to mine,” he said. “I had one for each group of guards. Let me see.”
The timers floated away from Sarinda's face and clustered around Agdinar.
“This is all good,” he said. “There will be a longer break in two hours.” Agdinar was again entranced by his calculations, reverting to the comfort of tools that reminded him of the Towers. His now old world.
“You haven't told me your plan. What are we going to do to get Tysa?”
“We will get in, search for her, and then the three of us will get out of here, as fast as possible. A sequential plan like that should work, little by little.”
“So, it's no plan at all. You are just going to risk our lives in a mad dash to save Tysa.”
“There isn't any other good choice. If we don't risk it, she's going to die.”
Sarinda shook, as if he had startled her. “On that,” she then said, “we agree.”
“Then, let's get ready.”
Sarinda turned, but Agdinar was gone.
“Agdinar?”
“I'm still here. We're going to go dark, well, not dark but invisible. And you too.”
Sarinda was again trying to see her hands. The effort was making her wobble.
“Let me correct something,” Agdinar said.
They stopped being ghosts, and Sarinda got to see her hands. There was now a glare around her body, a greenish halo. Agdinar touched the back of her hand—his shone in a purplish tone. They were now color-coded.
“They won't see us, but this can't last more than ten minutes each time. Making both of us invisible, with your new suit that's not fully charged, it's going to be very taxing on the power supply. If we—and please don't worry too much about this—run low in power, we will alternate invisibility. If we get shot, whoever is the target would turn transient long enough to allow the bullets to get through.”
“And how is it that I shouldn't worry about this?” Sarinda now wasn't smiling.
“I didn't get to the point where if they
shoot us enough times it can completely drain our power.”
Sarinda surprised Agdinar by laughing and then covering her mouth, preoccupied by the sound. It was an unplanned act, not what he’d expected after revealing they could reach a point where true bullet holes would be left on them. He found it delightful and chuckled too.
“Well, my general,” she said, “it's time we prepare for battle.”
“So true.”
And, without any explanation, she smiled again and took his hand between hers.
* * *
They waited for what felt like days but was only two-and-a-half hours. The sun had started to descend on their backs, and everything was quiet, as if the city was playing their game.
Agdinar was not so sure anymore about his plan. The first round of guards had been different from the second—an extra Hawk had remained at the entrance, standing between the huge columns and watching carefully while swiveling his rifle. And now the third turn was happening exactly as the first time, leaving Agdinar worried about risking their lives, betting them on a sequence he'd only seen work once.
“Maybe we should wait out the night,” he said.
“Here? We are quite exposed, and not only to the cold.”
“You saw the extra Hawk in the last group. We can't be sure they're not putting a lot more people on the night shifts.”
“I saw how the timers didn't match the second time,” Sarinda said, shifting uncomfortably on her position. “But every minute we wait here is a minute more of danger for Tysa.”
“I know—I understand.” Agdinar was trying to be firm, but fear was a strange thing, which pooled like stale, cold blood deep in his body.
“The thing is,” she said, “I don't know how we can get to Tysa. We don't know where they're keeping her.”
This was exactly what he was thinking. His answer—and hers—was to stay silent, watching the huge building across the street. They had both become watchers.
* * *
The last hour before sundown passed quite slowly. Even with the occasional crowdedness of clock-like screens floating on his hallucinatory view of the building, Agdinar lost sense of time. There was the time when the sun crossed the rampart-like horizon of the city's buildings, and then a nether land developed between day and night, the sky losing its bluishness and turning dusty and monochromatic.