CHAPTER 26
Tuesday 16th May 2062
Situations out of context ground her like a pestle needling a mortar. Jun looked out of the carriage window. Instead of brittle plains, there was a steel jungle. But then she wasn’t darting through the Province with aerodynamic precision; the El-Maglev carriage was grounded in the TP maintenance depot, straddling a service pit. Guideway sections collapsed like felled trees, carcasses of old carriages were piled two and three at a time against the walls. A dark, greasy film coated everything.
Jonquil had collected the three of them from the watchtower and taken them through the intestinal tunnel, to the depot’s belly. Men, women and Ai-ssistants harried like worker bees. Jun assumed they would be more cautious; considered and quick movements, ducking into shadows to be as inconspicuous as possible, but Jonquil had given them each a pair of service overhauls and safety goggles, and that was that. Could she pass for a mechanic or engineer, Jun questioned, but Jonquil dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand.
‘The goggles disrupt Ai-ssistant facial recognition technology, and as for anyone else, you’re with me, they wouldn’t think about questioning it.’
Jun wasn’t so sure. She’d often thought about questioning her many times in their anti-PSA group, but mostly, she’d just-about-managed to hold back her tongue.
After Jonquil asked, ‘who’s the functioning cog now?’ she had given a meaty, throaty laugh. There was a glint in her eye, and Jun finally understood Chandra’s reservations about her going on the dummy run. Could Jun trust herself to hold her tongue this time?
The carriage was split in half; the controller’s part – the Captain’s deck according to Jonquil – dominated from the nose of the train to the middle, and then the passenger catering and seating areas followed. Walking in the Captain’s deck felt like one of the Ghetto mob-homes, but instead of wall-designs and panelling, the sides were decorated with unit containers.
Jonquil marched to the corner of the carriage and packed a foldaway table, upright. She stood observing them with a punctilious mien, like a headmistress waiting for her pupils’ attention. In the opposite corner was a sofa-com-ottoman, moth-eaten, so worn you might fall through it if you sat down.
To cross the Provinces on the Sleeper TP, they couldn’t join as regular passengers, they had to be stowed away. Jonquil lectured that there were eight legitimate areas on a Sleeper train to hide contraband, and only three of them could support human cargo.
Batz, who was checking out the Automatic Operating Interface at the nose of the carriage – a dashboard as simple as an Intuimoto’s – turned around. ‘But there are four of us,’ he volunteered as if offering Jonquil, a crudité. With his soft voice and gentle demeanour, like Mikhail, his natural disposition complemented Jonquil’s.
Jonquil’s smile was as abrupt as her intonation. ‘You’ll have to get very cosy then.’
When Chandra had told Jun who the TP contact was, the Circle had closed around her. It couldn’t be possible. She’d been so hostile to Jun campaigning against the UA, while working for them. It was Jonquil who’d made a point of interacting with the UA as little as possible. It was Jonquil who’d removed her chips, and never subscribed to any of the UA’s lifestyle solutions. Jonquil was the last person, wasn’t she, to work for the UA?
Chandra had sketched a brief explanation. Jonquil and her sister Renee were the only family each other had, and so naturally, were close. But in 2036, when Renee began working for the UA, Jonquil disowned her sister. After the fall-out from the anti-PSA group, Jonquil moved to the N-E-E Province with Mikhail and threw herself into the Autonarmy’s demonstrations and uprisings.
In the years that passed, Chandra suspected there had been sporadic contact between the sisters, but never face-to-face. In ‘46, everything changed. Though Chandra didn’t go into details, Renee died accidentally, and Jonquil took her sister’s place – in society and working for the TP. Her new role proved vital in giving the Autonarmy a fighting chance in the uprisings. She’d worked up through the ranks and was latterly appointed the Tri-Province Director of Operations. Though the role was largely office-based, once a week she boarded a journey to keep her finger on the pulse, as instructed by the UA. Fortuitously, it allowed the contraband runs to continue. She’d been fundamental to the success of the Autonarmy once, and it was up to the three of them to find out if she would again. There was no reason why not, as long as Jun could hold her tongue. It was her game to lose.
‘My role is like a Captain,’ Jonquil’s diction could cut through glass. It pulled Jun’s focus back to the job at hand. ‘I greet the passengers on arrival and host the catering carriage till midnight, when the passengers usually retire to their sleepers. Then I’m back out again from 05.00 as we hit the final leg. The passenger journey is eight hours in total. For you, it will be closer to nine.’
The Sleeper was scheduled to begin its journey at 22.00. Jonquil would collect them from the watchtower at 21.00 and take them to the depot terminus, meaning they would need to arrive earlier than they had today. The commercial freight and onboard units would already be prepped and loaded by the warehouse Ai-ssistants and staff, with the onboard team due to arrive at 21.30. That half an hour would be their chance to sneak onto the train. But in reality, it would be twenty minutes, as the Ai-ssistants were always ten minutes early. The commercial freight carriages would leave the depot at 21.45 and make the five-minute journey to the passenger terminus where, after collecting the commuters, they would depart at 22.00.
‘It’s both beneficial and a complication that you’ll be hiding in this carriage. Beneficial, because I’ll be based here. If there’s something urgent I need to tell you, it can be done easily and quickly. A complication, because this is where other staff and Ai-ssistants will have free rein too.’
Solo glanced at Jun. Jun was used to Solo’s animalistic rage or languorous indifference, but for the first time, she seemed nervous.
Because none of them had their chips anymore, they couldn’t be detected digitally. There was no need for heat sensors in the Captain’s deck, so they didn’t have to worry about that, either. Jonquil controlled the CC activation, so that was straightforward to by-pass, meaning their only real challenge was the possibility of someone finding them.
Jonquil cleared her throat and looked intently. ‘I’ll be one of two human TP staff on the train. The remaining two, and our main challenge, will be over-fastidious Ai-assistants.’
Jonquil walked over to the ottoman; her pupil’s faces were captive with her every move. ‘One Ai-ssistant will be stationed in the catering car, one at the rear of the train,’ she pointed at different directions like an old flight attendant showing the exits. ‘The other human staffer usually floats, but largely will be based from this carriage. There’ll be lots of movement, and potential interaction where you’ll be hiding,’ Jonquil paused for a few beats, ‘but mostly, on a sleeper train, it’s a quieter, less risky, operation.’
In one swift movement, Jonquil pushed down on the back seat of the ottoman and pulled on its side. The seat flipped up energetically, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake, and exposed its skeleton base underneath. The square frame seemed surprisingly sturdy, but it could only about be 20cm deep. If anyone sat on the seat, it would shrink even further. Batz’s eyes found Jun’s, and for once, they lacked the reassurance she’d come to expect from him.
‘Two of you, will hide under here. I know…’ Jonquil raised her hands in protest, ‘but bigger people than Batz have stowed under here.’ She pulled out a beam-pointer. ‘Here and here.’ Two dots of red pierced the top right and left corners of the base, ‘have small perforations in the frame, to allow continuous airflow. You should prepare for it to be warm – in both hiding places – but there’s nothing that can be done about it.’ The red beams vanished abruptly.
Batz crouched down to the floor and ran his hands on the inside of the frame; Solo knelt beside the air holes. Likely they were all thinking the same
thing – hiding in there would be no picnic, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
‘What do you think?’ Jonquil said, her voice was different. Warmer, perhaps even insecure. The Jonquil that Jun knew wasn’t capable of humility; was this a hint of Renee filtering through?
She wasn’t sure what prompted her to do it, but Jun reached out to Jonquil’s arm and gave it a well-meaning squeeze. ‘We’re grateful for your help – it’ll work.’
Jonquil baulked, but Jun was too busy eying up Batz and the base’s proportions. ‘Do you want to try it out? I’ve got a feeling the next place won’t be as spacious.’
‘It isn’t,’ Jonquil said thoughtfully and opened a cupboard less than a metre deep, just over two metres high. ‘There’s usually maintenance and cleaning equipment in here. You’ll hide at the back with a concealed panel between you and the equipment. Again, there are air holes,’ Jonquil pointed at the back of the cupboard.
There was barely enough room for one person, let alone two. ‘And Kodi?’
Jonquil opened the cupboard door above them, a glorified shelf. At least Jun had available space above her. The cupboard could only be as tall as one of her kitchen cabinets. Her old cabinets. It wasn’t her kitchen anymore.
‘In here. It’s usually reserved for any overflow of catering items – spare glasses and mixers. There’s less room, obviously, but at least you’re all in one carriage and contained. It makes it easier to manage. We’d put a divider in there too…’
It was tiny. Jun couldn’t imagine poor Kodi cramped away in there. And surely it would be obvious that space had been reduced, especially to Ai-ssistants. ‘Is anyone likely to open the doors?’
‘My co-staffer knows about the contraband runs – he’s on the payroll – and gives the Ai-sssitants anything that they need from in here. It’s only in unique incidents when they get to the cupboards before us.’ Jonquil looked at her wrist. ‘We need to go back to the watchtower, time’s pretty much up,’ she bellowed.
Batz and Solo climbed out of the ottoman base and brushed themselves down. Dust from their clothes mingled with their air of uncertainty. Jun had reservations too; Jonquil’s contraband empire was run on the same principles as hide-and-seek. And they still needed to ask her about the Autonarmy, but time was running out.
In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changed. Jonquil froze mid-step, something stopped her in her tracks. She flapped her hands by her sides furiously. Batz ducked quick-smart to the floor and pulled at Jun and Solo to do the same.
‘Sorry to disturb, Renee,’ a young man said. His voice was desperate; words grasped, looking for something to cling on to.
Jun held her breath – had they been found out? Perhaps the CC cameras had picked them up after all, or maybe someone had been monitoring Eli’s wagon?
‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere. We thought you’d be in the watchtower,’ he sounded confused. It was well-known that was where Jonquil took her breaks.
‘Change of scenery,’ Jonquil trilled. ‘How can I help, Xuan?’ Her hand found her hip with fluidity and ease; a lightness rippled from her body to her face. Usually, Jonquil was so hard and rigid, but here she was smiling light and joy; was this another glimmer of Renee?
‘The final commercial TP has to pull out, and I need a higher level to sign it off. I can’t find Marco or Genie. I’m sorry to ask…’ he said with a sincerity that made Jun’s heart melt. He could have only been about Kau’s age.
‘Of course,’ Jonquil said. ‘Terminus 5? I’ll be there in a second.’
Solo must have got a cramp, because suddenly her back was on the floor, stretching her legs, a grimace on her face. Batz began to knead it; Jonquil’s eyes followed them.
‘Are you…?’ Xuan started.
Solo winced from the pinch of Batz’s fingers.
‘I’ll be there in a second!’ Jonquil said, her syllables slashed like blades.
An awkwardness lingered; Jonquil had flashed the wrong sister.
‘S-sorry, Xuan,’ she tried to find the trill again, but instead it rattled. ‘You’ll have to excuse me – I’m not feeling well. I’ll be with you in one moment.’ She tried a smile, but neither was convinced.
There were footsteps, Xuan left, and Jonquil crumbled down beside them to a kneel.
‘You’re going to have to hide here until my next break at 00.30,’ Jonquil gave a weary sigh. ‘Take your positions. I’ll come back for you.’
‘Are you alright?’ Jun knew Jonquil would hate her for asking, but she’d hate herself if she didn’t.
Jonquil left Jun’s question unanswered, and shooed Batz and Solo into the ottoman base. Jun tip-toed inside the cupboard and waited for Jonquil to close the door. Confined into darkness again. Her head was sluggish, her eyelids heavy. Renee’s light trill echoed in her ear, clanging against Jonquil’s meaty laugh. Where did Jonquil end and Renee begin? All this time she’d assumed Chandra was worried about her messing things up, but maybe his concern lay with Jonquil.
* * *
By the time Jun saw Jonquil’s face again, she could no longer feel parts of her body. As the cupboard door opened, and light streamed in, relief flooded with it. They could have been hiding there two hours or two days for all Jun knew; her eyes were gluey – she must have fallen asleep – and she felt like she’d been slammed by two right hooks.
Batz held out his arm to her, but the thought of moving made her muscles drag and bones soften. She checked her watch. It was 00.32, just when Jonquil said she would come back for them. Now they’d have to go to the forest to wait for Linh, the scond driver, to pick them up by the access road and make the journey back to the Ghetto.
Though Batz stood impossibly tall, his eyes were dried and sunken. He pulled Solo to him, and for once, she let him lead the embrace. Even Solo’s body was flailing. But Jonquil looked the worst of them all. She had gone beyond pale, as though her soul itself had thinned; she looked like a ghost.
‘Are you alright?’ Jun tried to hide her shock.
‘Yes, yes,’ Jonquil said with conviction, but her feet looked unsteady as they piled through the greased jungle. As they were about to walk into the vestibule, Jonquil rocked over on her ankles, stumbling into Solo and Batz. She tried to recover herself, and Batz reached out for her, but she faltered again.
Jonquil might rage, but Jun couldn’t let this carry-on. ‘How long have you had these symptoms?’
Jonquil shook her head. ‘Nothing, there’s nothing wrong.’
They walked to behind the carriages, and Jun held a finger just beyond Jonquil’s nose. She rotated it in front of her, ‘any double vision or depth of field loss?’
‘No.’
‘But you’ve been feeling faint? What have your chips said?’
Jonquil violently shoved Jun’s finger away. ‘They’ve said nothing. I’ve been alright apart from today,’ she said, but with zero conviction. ‘You need to get out of here!’
Something wasn’t right. For all Jonquil’s bluster, she wouldn’t leave her like this. Jun managed to convince her to take a moment to recover. With a reluctance of a child, Jonquil led Jun to one of the depot’s washrooms. It was as clean as could be expected; black rings of grease, like eyes thick with kohl, accented the taps and drain; the once white tiles were greyscale. Batz and Solo hid in Jun’s cupboard, waiting until they’d finished.
Jun checked Jonquil’s pulse. ‘Have you had enough fluids?’
She shrugged.
‘You’re sure this is the only time you’ve experienced these symptoms?’
Jonquil was silent; determined not to make this easy.
‘Because if it isn’t, it could be something more serious…’
‘More serious than what?’ Jonquil mumbled.
Jun wished she had Batz’s tact or Solo’s self-assurance. ‘It can be difficult enough living one life, let alone juggling two.’
Jonquil’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘And what would you know? You’ve never dealt with the tough stuff. One snap
of the fingers, memory-gone, and you’ve moved on.’ Her cheeks promoted themselves to a full-blown crimson.
So Chandra had told Jonquil about Odgerel, and that she RetrigramAmmed her own memory of the truth about what happened. Jun had expected him to, of course, but telling Jonquil was stoking a fire that wasn’t in danger of going out. Jun could barb back, but to what end? Jonquil was right, but she couldn’t carry the guilt of it anymore, or about leaving Kau for that matter. She’d be no good to anyone. There were people putting everything on the line to save one another, now was the time for coming together, not pushing each other apart. ‘I’m not proud of what I did,’ Jun said, ‘but I’m doing what I need to now.
‘I know you’re risking a lot with this, and we appreciate it. But not at the expense of your health.’ She didn’t want to sacrifice one person for another. Whether Jonquil believed her or not was a different matter, but she wouldn’t force Jonquil’s hand. ‘You don’t show any signs of neuropathy. If your symptoms continue, you should see your doctor, or maybe speak to someone about the stress, okay?’
‘You’re right,’ Jonquil said quietly.
That was something Jun never thought she’d hear.
‘It threw me today,’ Jonquil stood up and inched passed Jun to open the door a crack. Satisfied there was no one there, she shut it again. ‘I’m ashamed too,’ she said, and a singular tear slid down her cheek. ‘We all have stories we wish we could change. It was a shitty thing for me to say.’
Jun wasn’t sure how to respond. This was unchartered territory.
‘Did Chandra tell you how I became a functioning cog?’ Jonquil said, and wiped the tear with an abrasive rub.
‘He gave me a top line version. He was… respectful of the situation.’
‘He gave me the full version of yours,’ Jonquil said triumphantly and opened the door again to check if anyone was outside. ‘You know my sister,’ Jonquil mouthed, ‘and I didn’t talk, not really….’
Now they were face to face, for the first time Jun noticed that she was an inch taller than Jonquil. It had always seemed the other way around.
Adaptive Consequences Page 26