by Julian North
Chapter 21
Our landing on Californian soil was backlit by the first light of dawn.
I was first out the door, first onto the high-traction tarmac. A pleasant salt-air breeze cut across my face. A sleek, beautiful building of glass and polished white stood a hundred yards away, the mighty waves of the Pacific Ocean reflecting off its mirrored windows. Manicured greenery was all around me, extending up the walls of the building onto its roof, making it appear as if the structure melted into the terrain surrounding it. I knew I was seeing only the top floors, and that there were many more levels beneath. I remembered this place—or rather, Kristolan did.
There was a small crowd waiting for us on the tarmac, but one man stood apart from the rest. A dozen others clustered behind him, but his position in front and his posture made it obvious that he was the person who mattered. Kristolan knew him as well, knew his nature. The part of me that was her urged me forward, eager to do battle with a worthy adversary. Keep him off balance. Keep the initiative.
I forced my legs to move forward. I kept my chin up, my eyes locked on his.
“Mr. Yasoff, you do us a great honor meeting us in person. We had wondered why our aircraft was kept circling for so long. I understand now that it was worth the wait.”
Cool eyes of silver regarded me beneath a canopy of matching hair. His face was serene, without lines or wrinkles, although his manner and gaze were that of a man who had already experienced many decades of life. If there could be such a thing as appearing ageless, this man was the example.
“And you would be Daniela Machado, the young woman from Bronx City of all places, who seemingly manages to do the impossible. Although we know you have a trick or two up your sleeve that helps.” He gave me a thin smile.
“I would like to request political asylum in the sovereign State of California for myself and those who accompany me.”
Yasoff feigned mild shock. “I am a private citizen who holds no political office. I am surprised you make this request of me. You had best direct your petition to Governor Clarke in Sacramento.”
“You are the leader of the Jobsian Party and the richest man in California. I had thought I could speak to you of most things.”
The unnaturally seamless face darkened, and I realized I had made a mistake. “In California, we do not speak of money. This isn’t Manhattan. Here, such talk is uncouth and dangerous.”
“I’m from Bronx City. We don’t speak of money because we don’t have any.”
Yasoff laughed at that. “Well put, Ms. Machado. Mr. Frost-Bell spoke highly of you, but I believe he may have understated the case nonetheless. Let us speak plainly, then, and save the rest for later. What is it that you need?”
“Medical care for two people aboard that v-copter. Access to personnel and facilities for our science expert.”
He raised a finger in the air and the people behind him snapped to action as if they were statues suddenly brought to life. Men and women in reflective white robes hurried toward the v-copter, trailed by attendants wrapped in gray with gurneys and medical equipment.
I turned toward Rhett, who was waiting at the hatch with his hand on his force pistol. “It’s all right, Rhett. We’re among friends.”
Yasoff joined each of his fingers together. “It pleases me that you realize that. I was saddened to hear about poor Alexander. It is undeniably tragic that he joins his mother as a patient here. Still, we have made some progress with dear Beatice, and I hope we shall have even more success with Alexander.”
“Do your scientists know about the Waste?”
“Alas, that malady does not exist within the borders of California, for which I am grateful. Your other patient—your brother, I believe—will have to be carefully quarantined. I cannot be responsible for unleashing a plague into California. I am assured it is not contagious, but we cannot be too careful.”
“Nythan can help you. If you give him access to computers, he can… well, he can work magic.”
Yasoff actually smiled—an odd look on his smooth face. “Magic? That is not a word we hear often these days. Halen Vard is our chief researcher, and I shall instruct her to coordinate the patient’s care with your… magician. I will leave you now to get settled and attend to your companions.”
“Thank you.”
Yasoff turned and took a step toward the compound before stopping to face me again. “Oh, and Ms. Machado, I know you are too intelligent to believe this can be our last conversation. Even here in the tranquility of the Everlast Center, the realities of the world intrude. We must speak again soon, of less pleasant matters.”
He strode away. As he did so, a freakishly tall attendant hurried to his side carrying an umbrella carefully angled to keep the rays of the rising sun from striking his master.
So, this was California.
The Everlast Center was a massive complex of fifteen levels, twelve of which were underground. There were over a thousand men and women working there, utilizing the best equipment and having access to seemingly unlimited resources. For all that, there were fewer than a dozen actual patients, all people of immense wealth or personal connection to Dimitri Yasoff. A place where people did not speak about money, indeed.
It was strange to immediately know my way around such a massive and maze-like place, but Kristolan did, so I did as well. Only Nythan seemed more at home in this strange environment. Halen Vard was three times Nythan’s age, but any hesitation she had about the capabilities of the strange, pale kid that Dimitri Yasoff had saddled her with dissipated within ten minutes of their initial meeting. They didn’t even speak in complete sentences with each other. I left them to it, spending my time with Alexander and Mateo, helpless and lost in my thoughts. We had an entire portion of one of the above-ground floors to ourselves, with flowers everywhere and magnificent views of the nearby ocean. It was a brief respite in the center of the hurricane. I fell asleep beside Alexander’s bedside, waking with Yasoff’s warning that it would soon be time to speak of less pleasant matters ringing in my ears.
Dinner was served to us in a long room of sterile gray, with the colorless monotony interrupted by the centerpiece of dazzling orchids and the pounding of the ocean waves outside the transparent wall. All of us except Alexander and Mateo were there—even Nythan took a break from his research to eat a meal with the rest of us. Waiters in white linen smocks and beryl stone necklaces served us from giant platters of cooked vegetables, flavored soy products, and real, fresh fruit. When everyone had eaten their fill and the plates disappeared, I asked Rhett to lock the door.
“Nythan, are we being monitored?”
“I haven’t detected anything,” he said.
Jess, who hadn’t said a word through dinner, spoke up. “I’ve activated a scrambler anyway. I would not bet my life that they don’t have something that can penetrate it, but we’re reasonably safe to talk frankly but cautiously.”
“Can’t we stop being completely paranoid for one minute?” Alissa said. “We’re finally safe. If any place in the whole world can help Mateo and Alexander, this has got to be it. We’re in California, bastion of freedom—look at that ocean. Daniela, you did it. Take a moment to enjoy it.”
Alissa’s mother started shaking her head before her daughter had stopped speaking. “We left California for a reason, Alissa.”
Harren looked at me, then at his daughter. “Alissa, I am forever grateful to Daniela for reuniting me with your mother and you. That is a debt I can never repay. This may indeed be the safest place left to us, but it is not safe.” He motioned a hand toward the southern wall. “Beyond the meticulously manicured green of this place is the other California, the one we left behind. It is a place of angry mobs, a place of self-justifying violence, of drug-addled idiocy that drowns out the few voices of wisdom who dare speak. Things have only grown worse since we left.”
There were unhappy faces all around at Harren’s assessment. I had a simpler answer to Alissa’s question: “Highborn are still highborn.
There are fewer hyphenated family names here, but the substance is the same. People are still people. Most of us always desire more, and some must therefore have less. Only the illusions and justifications for that are different.”
Alissa’s eyes were wide with disappointment. “They helped us. They protected us.”
“California is in danger,” I said. “Virginia Timber-Night has pledged to reunite all of the United States. They think we might be able to help them. Yasoff has some use for us. That is the only reason we are here, living in illusory luxury.”
Harren placed a fatherly hand on Alissa’s shoulder. “Their economic situation is near catastrophic. Their technology cannot feed eighty million people—not with the embargo. Drugs delay rage but do not stop it. As people get less, they turn on those with more. The Thought Giants were once revered, but increasingly the masses turn on them as well, even though they are California’s last lifeline. Democracy is far from perfect.”
Alissa turned away from her father and looked at me. “Then what, Daniela? What do we do?”
“It’s time for a bit of Bronx City street haggling. Things might get ugly for a bit, but I’m prepared to offer them what they want most in the world—the answers to their hopes and fears. But they need the courage to take it.”
Chapter 22
The next morning I was awakened by the knock of one of the center’s white-robed attendants. After I opened the door, he reverently placed a real paper envelope in my hand.
“I am instructed to wait for your reply.”
I was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, sleep heavy in my eyes. I pulled out the handwritten note, the writing as perfect as anything my script teacher, Mr. Yadlow, could’ve demanded.
“Please tell Mr. Yasoff I’d be honored to meet him in the east garden. I need fifteen minutes to shower and change.”
“Very good, miss. I shall have someone come to show you the way. The grounds can be quite confusing.”
“I know the way.” I shut the door.
A selection of different garments had been thoughtfully placed in my quarter’s closet. After I showered in deliciously hot water, I chose a loose-fitting combination of linen slacks and a robe-like top that was almost the same color as a Tuck skin—a sentimental choice. The clothes were so light it felt like I was wearing woven air.
Dimitri Yasoff was waiting for me in the shaded stone pavilion beside a clear pond with a small waterfall. Enormous golden fish swam in the water. Fruit and bread and coffee waited on the table between us. The smell of the coffee drew me toward it.
Dimitri threw a piece of bread into the pond and the fish swarmed to get it, their mouths puckering as they broke the surface.
“There are not many koi left in the world. People don’t see any purpose to them. You cannot eat them, and they need clean water and real food to survive.” He watched them gobble the bread, their nearly golden scales reflecting the morning sun. “I understand all that, but try to tell me the world will be a better place if they are extinct.”
I peeled the rough hide off an orange while Yasoff pontificated. Richies always liked to sound profound. Their favorite voice was always their own. Kristolan knew that Dimitri Yasoff was no exception. I sank my teeth into the fruit’s flesh. Impossibly sweet juice dribbled down my chin as I chewed the delicious luxury.
“Had you ever seen a koi with your own eyes before today, Ms. Machado?”
I took another bite of the orange before answering. He might have thought I was sending a message with my delayed answer, but it was actually that I couldn’t help myself. “With my own eyes, no. Not a lot of koi swimming around in Bronx City. Only corpses float in our rivers.”
“Yet here you are, in California, leading a group of men and women older, richer, and even smarter than you—no offense to you, as I’m told your friend Nythan is rather extraordinary. And you didn’t even get lost finding your way out here.”
“Where I come from, you learn to survive.”
“Our governor has received an official protest from the purported United States government—the one in Manhattan, in case you are confused as to which—about an attack on one of their aircraft. The protest itself is rather unusual, as they generally refuse to acknowledge California exists, much less that we have a freely elected governor.”
“Was the governor surprised that Virginia Timber-Night’s government would accuse California of doing that?”
Yasoff inclined his head toward me. “You seem to have a remarkably keen understanding of Californian politics. What you really want to know is if the governor gave the order to save you or if it was someone else. The answer is not a simple one. You should know that his military surrogate did not stop that event from occurring, which is not the same thing as approving it, but he is stuck with the consequences, since he is the governor. The United States has demanded in rather impolitic language that you and your friends be returned to face criminal charges. I believe the threat of war was included with that demand.”
I kept my breathing steady. The part of me that was Kristolan knew this could be used to my advantage. “I must have something very valuable.”
Yasoff tossed more bread to the fish, but neither of us turned our heads to watch the koi squabble for it.
His eyelids squeezed together so that only a narrow slit remained through which to gaze at me. “What is it that you have, precisely?”
“The ability to save California.”
Yasoff raised his brow skeptically. “Oh, do we need saving?”
“Virginia will crush you. Once she’s done with the South, she’ll consolidate her grip and turn on you. She will abide no competing power, no challenge to her authority. It is only a matter of time.”
“She is not the first among the Orderists to threaten us. We can protect ourselves very ably, I assure you.”
“Arthus Ryan-Hayes was a different type of person—a patient man who thought he was doing the right thing. Even Landrew Foster-Rose-Hart and the more militant Orderists were calculating politicians who were motivated by self-interest and greed in regard to California. Virginia is from an entirely different stock than those men. She hungers for conquest not because she wants more, but because her will must dominate everything.” I took another bite of the orange, chewing slowly. This time I intentionally made him wait. “And she can turn your people on you, just as she did in the South.”
I had his attention now. I was confident that the koi wouldn’t be getting any more bread.
“You can stop that?”
I put my hands in my lap to ensure Yasoff wouldn’t see my hands shaking. I’d never been a card player, but it was time to bluff, to buy enough time for Nythan to do what I needed him to do.
“I can do more than that: I can deliver two armies to you. I can make Virginia’s defenses crumble. I can give you Manhattan—if you are brave enough to take it.”
I returned to the main complex to find Mateo gone. His bed had been made, the room cleaned, as if this were a hotel and he was a guest who had checked out.
I grabbed the cuff on an attendant in the hallway outside what had been his room.
“Where is my brother?”
The man was portly and smelled of perfume. He looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. “He… he was taken to the lower levels. To prep for cryo-freeze. I’m… I’m sorry you weren’t informed immediately, but you were with Mr. Yasoff, and his orders—”
“I get it. I want to see Mateo. Bring me down there.”
“It’s a sterile floor, miss. I’m afraid you can’t go down there.”
I yanked the man closer so he could feel the heat of my breath. “Bring him out and start over again, or take me down there and wash me as clean as you like. I don’t care which, but I’m going to see him before he gets turned into an ice cube.”
I released the man; he stumbled two steps away from me, then started talking quickly into his viser.
Within five minutes, I was escorted into an elevator of glittering metal
by another attendant—this time a woman with buzzed golden hair and a recessed chin. It brought me down to the facility’s bottom level, where even Kristolan had never been. They gave me a suit made of a material I couldn’t identify, but it felt like I was wearing a layer of gel rather than something solid. A mask of the same material covered my mouth and nose, with narrow slits to breathe and speak. They brought me to a frigid room with white walls that contained nothing but an overhead light, Mateo, and his gurney. Tiny ice crystals had formed on his skin, giving it a luminous blue tinge.
“Sorry it’s come to this, big brother.” My throat was stiff; my mouth had trouble forming the words.
His eyes remained closed. I would’ve thought he was dead except that his chest still moved and frozen breath occasionally drifted out of his nose.
“If you can hear me, we’re close to a cure, Mateo. You’re even in California. I think you won’t need to sleep too long. But I need to do some things, and if I don’t come back, please know that I did my best for you.” I stared up at the ceiling, my vision blurring, then back down at him. “And one more thing: I guess you were right after all.”
Nythan entered the room attired just as I was. He came to stand beside me. “This is stage one of the preparation process. We can cure the Waste, Daniela, I know it. I’ll be ready to start experimental trials soon. This process will get him the time he needs. The facilities here are amazing, and Dr. Vard is rather brilliant.”
“I’m glad you two are getting along.” I leaned over and spoke into Nythan’s ear. “Don’t tell your new friend too much. Do what we discussed. This only works if I have things they can’t get themselves.”
“I understand.” He pulled down his mask to reveal a smile. “I’ve got some other good news. We think we’ve come up with a way to get that chip off Alexander without killing him and treat the damage. It was actually the Waste research that gave me the idea. The same principles I was developing to combat that disease can be applied to augment the astounding progress they have made here on brain repair. They use genetic memory to help the mind repair itself. It’s already brought some functionality back to Alexander’s mother. Alexander’s brain damage is far more recent and localized than his mother’s. I think we have a very good chance of success, but time is working against us. The longer we delay, the more atrophied his brain becomes.”