by Rebecca Rode
Two
Kole
Besides my morning run, the forty-minute walk home from school was usually the most pleasant part of my day. Dirty and unkempt as the sidewalks were the closer I got to home, they held fewer ad boards than the main part of town. And since few in the Shadows could afford transports, the roads lay wide and quiet beside the occasional train zooming past. I still had to endure the tiny ads moving across the bottom of my vision as, unfortunately, I wasn’t likely to afford their removal anytime soon. But after the crowded halls of school, any peace made the walk worth it.
Today was different. My mind kept wandering back to forbidden areas, like Legacy Hawking. No matter how I tried to distract myself, she’d worm her way into my thoughts like an annoying advertisement.
The first problem was that Uncle Dane knew she attended my school. He’d discovered it last year and had drawn up all kinds of plans for me to take advantage of the situation—spying on her, a false friendship, even a fake romance. He’d tried to convince me of its importance to the cause. The word “duty” had come up at least a dozen times.
In the end, my one protection was the fact that I didn’t know her and she had no desire to know me. And I intended to keep it that way. It was safer for both of us.
But today I’d been weak. With school finally over and some semblance of freedom within my grasp, I’d been sloppy about my retreat. Legacy Hawking wasn’t supposed to know I existed, and the Hawkings were supposed to ignore us as they always did.
A simple conversation, nothing more.
That brought me to the second problem. Legacy Hawking wasn’t a girl you could easily forget. She was stunning. Not beautiful like the made-up and overcorrected models on IM-NET ads but truly and naturally stunning. Her eyes glowed a true green, no dyed implant lenses required. While her twin brother dressed with a focus on trends, Legacy’s style seemed more understated and timeless. Where her brother embraced every chance to appear on camera, Legacy shunned attention and crowds. Rumor had it she’d chosen to attend our school against her parents’ wishes. I wasn’t convinced. It would make her the first Hawking in generations to descend to our level, and I couldn’t figure out why any celebrity would want that. The idea intrigued me.
I’d convinced myself for three years that I didn’t care. Now I had to remind myself all over again.
I crossed the street against traffic, dodging a battered transport sporting a clothing ad, and pulled up the warehouse invitation in my implant files. The management position was truly mine. Even better, it lay 156 kilometers away. Too far to fulfill my uncle’s demands yet close enough to visit Mom in the hospital on weekends. When I had enough saved up, I’d have her moved closer to me. We would finally escape my uncle’s influence and my dad’s shadow once and for all.
It was also far enough away I would never have to think about Legacy Hawking again.
I paused as I neared the house. Pre-NORA records said the home was 128 years old. The fact that we had a roof and an actual floor made us richer than most of the Shadows’ occupants. I even had a mattress to myself.
But it wasn’t the house that made me hesitate. It was its owner. Uncle Dane, leader of the Firebrands, waited at the front door. His shirt hung half buttoned, one pocket slung out of his trousers. He held a packet of alcohol in one hand. I’d planned on quickly changing into my work uniform, but by the self-satisfied expression on his face, there would be no quick retreat today.
“You got an invitation to Neuromen, boy,” he said, blocking the doorway as I approached. “Hope you didn’t intend to keep that a secret from me.”
Anger flared in my chest. Only parents were supposed to receive copies of our official position invitations. That right should have gone to Mom, not him. That meant he’d submitted a request for parental rights while Mom lay in the hospital.
It also meant he knew about the management position.
I schooled my face into innocence like always. “Of course not, Uncle. I meant to tell you today.”
“Good. I also hope you intend to accept.”
My stomach was boiling now. I briefly considered leaving without my work uniform. My manager already thought the other company foolish for offering me such a high-paying job right out of school. Arriving late would only bring on the taunting. “We’d better discuss this tonight. I’m late for my shift.”
My uncle looked nearly identical to my father when he was angry. He’d even shaved his head in Dad’s honor, displaying near-constant beads of sweat around what was once his hairline. “We’ll discuss it now, nephew. A position at Neuromen is a hundred times more important than some lower-management factory job.”
Most people would have agreed, but they would be wrong. The factory assembled the circuit boards critical to the nation’s neurotechnological communications—an industry that had exploded in recent years. Management positions like mine only opened up every other decade. While Neuromen would have been a huge honor, many of their scientists were permanent assistants with low pay. The factory meant a bigger paycheck from day one. With Mom’s hospital bills mounting, that was what mattered.
Except that I couldn’t point that out. The less Dane thought about Mom, the better. I was already treading dangerous ground by not immediately obeying his orders. Everything inside me wanted to cower, to lower my head and apologize. Normally I would have done just that.
But not today. Not with my future at stake.
I chose my words carefully. “It was nice of Director Virgil to offer, but I’ve already committed to the factory. They’re expecting me tomorrow night.”
“You’ve committed to nothing until your Declaration, and I say you’re taking the lab position.”
I pushed past him and stalked down the hallway toward my room. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and I had to squint to find my way in the darkness. Dane rarely paid the electric bill these days. “I’ll think about it.”
His voice was low and dangerous. “Don’t turn your back on me.”
With an internal groan, I slowed and turned to face him. “Did you need something else before I leave, Uncle?”
He approached like a panther, slow and deliberate, as if considering how to devour me whole. It was this side of him that ignited the city’s discontent with his cause. Anger made my uncle a powerful man. With that power came certain expectations about his family, and unfortunately for me, I was his favorite pawn.
“I’ll say it again so you don’t misunderstand,” he said. “If you care about that sweet, sickly mother of yours, you will accept the lab’s offer.”
There it was—the weapon I’d dreaded most. He hadn’t forgotten about Mom. Her medically induced coma was all that held the brain sickness at bay. All he’d have to do was unplug her, and she’d be gone in a matter of hours.
Dread replaced the heat gathering inside me. “You would threaten a dying woman? Your own sister-in-law?”
“My brother is dead. Now she’s nothing to this family. If she’s anything to you, you’ll stop arguing and listen. That invitation came at the perfect time. I need a man at Neuromen. Unfortunately, you’ll have to do.”
“You already have a guy working there.”
“He defected. I’ve taken care of it.”
Dead, then. “But you have hundreds of followers. Any one of them could spy for you.”
“Workers are tracked too closely. Only a neurotech candidate has the right clearance.” Alcohol flavored the centimeters between us. “You’re the first and only Firebrand graduate with an official invitation.”
My teeth were grinding so hard my jaw hurt. After four years on an implant assembly line, I understood neurotech better than any other Firebrand. I was the logical choice.
Swearing under my breath, I realized no argument would sway Dane now. I agreed with the Firebrand cause. I truly did. But since my father’s death last year and Dane’s appointment in his place, the cause had degenerated from peaceful protests to violent and dangerous demonstrations, underground
work, and bribery. He’d even managed secret infiltrations of Hawking’s cabinet. It was only a matter of time before Uncle Dane succeeded in bringing the Rating system back.
If he was right, the change would bring much needed government-paid medical care for Mom, a stable home for all working citizens, and regulated pay for pretty much everyone in the Shadows. Maybe even twenty-four-hour electricity instead of nightly blackouts that only ever seemed to affect those who needed it most. Above all, it meant the nation’s ruler was accountable to us and not the other way around. Bloodline ruler mandates and successorships came straight from European histories. They had no place in the New Order Republic of America.
I just wanted to watch it all from a distance. Someone else could be Dane’s little pawn.
“Declarations are permanent,” I reminded Dane. “To recall it later, I’d have to get a pardon from Hawking himself. We both know that isn’t likely to happen.” Not when Hawking’s own daughter had already figured out I was a Firebrand.
My uncle exhaled, the sour alcohol practically overwhelming my senses. “Boy, I’m saving you from yourself. Decades of barking orders to an assembly line? Even your mama wouldn’t want that for you. This lab position will be just the beginning.”
I caught the implication. Serve my uncle, rise in the ranks. It was the same offer I’d heard him whisper to other young, ambitious Firebrands. The fact that he would entrust such an important mission to me should have been flattering. Instead, I felt like a bird whose cage had just been opened—only to slam shut a second later. “What intel are you looking for, exactly?”
“There are rumors of an upcoming announcement. Before he . . . left, my man said it’s related to the next implant upgrade. I need you to get me details about why this particular update is unique.”
It probably patched weaknesses in the system and increased security, like all the others. Dane was crazy. “I believe in the cause, but I can’t change the trajectory of my life for a mission someone else could accomplish in a single day. I’m sorry.” I turned and headed for my bedroom, determined to grab all of my belongings. I wouldn’t be returning tonight, or ever.
A hand grabbed me by the collar, tearing my shirt, and yanked me back around. A powerful uppercut took me square in the chin.
I staggered backward against my bedroom door, which gave way, then took a couple of steps before regaining my footing. I knew better than to fall at this man’s feet.
Uncle Dane stood in the doorway now, fists still clenched. “Told you never to turn your back on me, fool boy. Thought your dad would’ve taught you better. I’m not lying. You walk out that door for some stupid factory job and your mama won’t survive the night.”
There was a lot I hated about my life, but one thing I resented above all—my uncle would win today, and we both knew it. There had been too many dangerous missions under the light of the moon, too many secret conversations overheard. Too many times where he’d demanded and I’d given in. I was my father’s son. The blood Dane and I shared put me in a position to be used.
There was just one consolation. Dane wasn’t the only one with secrets. If he knew mine, he would have used it today. That, or killed me outright.
I lowered my head like I had a hundred times before and murmured an apology, hating every second of it.
“Good. And you’ll declare for Neuromen tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I choked out.
He simply swung the packet of alcohol to his mouth and walked away.
I glanced at my black work uniform, pressed and folded neatly on my mattress. It was the only clean thing I owned, a huge contrast to the clutter and disorganization around it. It sat there staring back at me. Mocking my fate.
In one swift movement, I sent it flying across the room. It slid down the wall and landed in a satisfying heap.
Three
Legacy
“Legacyyyy,” Carmen, Gram’s assistant, cried as I walked into Gram’s front lobby. The woman crossed her legs and gave a crooked half curtsy that looked more like she had to use the washroom than anything. “What a fun surprise.” Translation: You didn’t message me a warning. Again.
“How is she?” I asked, heading for the stairs, which curved upward in an understated, elegant fashion that reminded me of Gram.
“It’s a good day. She may even be awake. Why don’t you wait here? I’ll go—”
“Don’t bother. I’ll check in on her.” I jogged up the steps and hurried down the hall. I was more familiar with Gram’s house than my own—she’d lived here for decades, and our family palace was only a few years old—but I could have found Gram’s room by the obnoxious smell of Carmen’s perfume alone.
It was better than the antiseptic smell of two years ago, though, when Grandpa Vance had suffered from the brain sickness. Since then it had taken hundreds of lives and earned itself a name as cold as the disease itself—DNR-6.
Like a lightning bolt, his sudden death had shot a crack through our family. He was the one who calmed arguments and soothed hurt feelings. While Gram had shaped a country, Grandpa Vance had shaped our family. His absence made everything feel wrong.
Then Mom died just ten months later. It had widened the crack like a prybar.
Dad had gone into an emotional tailspin, turning his duties over to his cabinet and spending three weeks in his chambers. Gram visited him once, intending to cheer him, but eventually stormed out without explanation. They hadn’t spoken since.
Meanwhile, my twin brother, Alex, and I had been left to grieve alone. Alex clung to Dad like never before and refused to talk about Mom. Her belongings and decorations began to disappear.
I finally gathered what remained and hid it in my room.
The hardest part was the conspiracy theories. People claimed horrible things, like Gram murdering her husband and then her daughter-in-law for discovering her guilt. Now, they said, she refused to do the decent thing and follow Grandpa Vance into death. Others accused Dad of killing his own father before staging Mom’s “accident.” Some even insisted Alex had grown impatient for the successorship and become a murderer.
Then there was the occasional remark about me and my avoidance of the cameras. Surely that meant I was guilty of something.
Gram’s door was simple, practical, and to the point. I slid inside and closed it behind me.
My grandmother lay still in her oversized bed, the room dark enough to set me blinking. I felt a stab of guilt. Maybe I should have let her sleep. But tomorrow was Declaration Day, and Mom wasn’t here to talk to. Gram was the next best thing.
She stirred and groaned. “Ugh. That woman’s perfume. Open the window, please.”
I strode to the window and lifted the shade. Only a sliver of blue sky remained, squeezed out of existence by the usual low-hanging gray clouds. Gram said gray was better than the brown skies and red sun she’d grown up with. I couldn’t imagine it.
I took her hand. “How are you feeling today?”
“Cold. I wish they’d give me enough blankets around here. I’m not young anymore.” Gram’s eyes crinkled, unable to hide the light they always held. She wore her faded brown hair piled atop her head today, held in place with old-fashioned pins and highlighting her slender neck. A threadlike necklace hung crooked down her chest, its stone hidden in her bosom.
I had to agree with Carmen, much as I disliked the woman. It was a good day.
I plucked the top blanket between two fingers in mock disgust. “You’re right. Six is woefully inadequate. I mean, don’t they know who you are? You deserve at least eight.”
“It’s true. Now, tell me what’s on your mind. You look like you bear the weight of a country on those little shoulders. I know plenty about that. Is your father finally going to announce which of you he’s chosen as his successor?”
A tiny smile grew on my lips. She was teasing again. “That happens when we turn eighteen. You’re the one who set it up that way, as I recall.” Not that there was any question who Dad would choose. Al
ex had claimed the role of favorite child from the start. “My Declaration, however, is tomorrow.”
“I know. Tell me what you’re going to say.”
I gave her a sideways look. “You’re the one who made it illegal to discuss our offers and Declarations. You said it messed up the ratios and made people change their minds when they shouldn’t.”
She raised a finger and pointed it at my chest. “I said a lot of things. To the fates with all of it. The cursed physician won’t let me come tomorrow, so you’d best tell me now.”
I swallowed, feeling oddly emotional. My dad, my brother, my aunts and cousins—none of them had ever asked what I intended to Declare. Yet Gram acted like I had a choice. Wrong as it was, it was really, really nice.
“Dad’s holding a position for me. Something about research.” I hadn’t asked for details. All I knew was it involved a desk, a closed door, and the typical long hours that came with a government job. Now my family could avoid each other while getting paid for it.
“That’s not what I asked. I want your Declaration. The full version, enthusiasm and all.”
The version I was supposed to be practicing with my tutor right now. “It’s not ready yet.”
“Then you chose wrong, because Declarations aren’t written in your mind. They come from the heart.”
Not mine. It was more of an “every other door is closed to me” situation. I forced a smile and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll work on it.”
“See that you do. Then come back and give me a proper Declaration. Do me a favor and bring more blankets when you return.”
If she wore any more blankets, the poor woman would be folded in half from the weight. I nodded, not quite ready to leave. “Did you want to go into politics?”
She snorted. “Fates, no. It was the last thing I wanted.”