I mulled over these thoughts on the way to the Terminal. The Terminal was located near the Pillar, as was every terminal on every world. I could feel the air growing heavier with mana, the closer I drove to the Pillar. Soon, the reflective glass windows, and neon lights of the terminal were visible. I could hear the sighs of lifting shuttles.
I parked underground, and took a lift to the ticketing floor. I submitted my thumbprint at one of the booths, and hoped someone at the bureau had forgotten to revoke my trans-dimensional travel privileges. After a moment, the machine printed me a ticket.
Thank Great Light.
I took another lift to the teleportation floor, and checked a screen for the travel schedules. There was a shuttle scheduled for Hiti in fifteen moments. Gate 3.
I walked through a series of detectors on my way to the gate, each of which checked me for arms, diseases, and illegal drugs. Green lights all the way. As I walked, I kept my head down. Before coming here, I had spent some time in front of my mirror, with a box set of very expensive make-up Evon had gotten me a few months ago. It turned out that a good concealer would hide rubriq in half a wink. Still, I was self-conscious. Every glance my way was attention unwelcomed.
When I reached the shuttle, I submitted my ticket to a slot in the door, and stepped inside. The shuttles were enormous transport pods, always double-decker, capable of taking up to two hundred passengers. Transport laws demanded that their walls were made almost entirely out of a special alloy called krystallite. Krystallite was resistant to virtually any form of energy or shock imaginable. Unfortunately, krystallite was also transparent, so it wasn’t particularly appreciated by anyone who was afraid of heights.
I stuffed my overnight bag in the compartment beneath my seat, and sat down. The passengers opposite and beside me all seemed engrossed with tablets, or cell-comms. The screens in the shuttle were showing a video, explaining how trans-dimensional travel worked—as if there was a single man, woman or child born in this century who hadn’t seen this video a million times. But that was travel law for you.
I glanced at the three-dimensional model of the Auroran world: bowl shaped, with a rod sticking right through its centre. The rod was, of course, the Pillar. Then the video showed models of the other worlds—all of which, except for variations in topography, were in essentially the same likeness. The models merged in the video, whilst the narrator explained how all the worlds existed at the same space, location and in approximately the same time continuum. They did not, however, exist in the same dimension. The purpose of the Terminal then, was to transport goods, services, and most importantly people, across the dimensional walls. As the video ended, members of varying races appeared on the screen, and delivered dazzling smiles to their audience. ‘The Terminal,’ a voice said. ‘Your Journey Starts Here.’
I snorted, and put my headphones on. As my favourite blue matter band started to play, I closed my eyes, and tried to calm down.
I hated teleportation.
When it was time to go, the lights in the shuttle dimmed, and our seat belts snapped into place. The walls lit up with rows and rows of rubriq, as we felt the shuttle lift. The shuttle floated out of the Terminal, and into the sky, till we could see Crystal Lake sprawled out beneath us. Then, the shuttle slowed to a stop.
You are now exiting World Aurora, the shuttle A.I. said. Goodbye.
Immediately, the shuttle moved laterally. We were going round the Pillar now. The shuttle picked up speed. The first revolution took half an hour. The second revolution: half that time. Faster, and faster, we flew round the Pillar. Higher, and higher, we rose through the clouds. Inside the shuttle, everything from the seats to the walls was designed to counter-rotate about a focal point. The idea was to cancel out the some of the effect of our high-velocity route.
It didn’t work very well.
Then came the erratic temperature changes. As the shuttle absorbed and expelled mana, I felt intense flashes of blistering heat, and then biting cold. My skin tingled, my hairs started to stand on end. There was a loud hum, and it got louder still, as our craft juddered violently.
I gritted my teeth. This was the part I hated the most.
Just as every bone in my body began to protest the high-frequency vibrations, there was a shrill sound as our shuttle tore through the dimensional wall.
And suddenly, there was peace.
We were in the void, surrounded by stars, weightless in zero gravity. I could see the Hiti world below us: numerous clusters of earth, in a basin of blue. Hiti was a water world, consisting almost entirely of natural and artificial islands.
The Pillar drew our shuttle into its pull, and slowly, we descended through the clouds. In an hour, it was all over. A tedious process for something called ‘teleportation’.
Welcome to World Hiti. We hope you have a pleasant stay.
As soon as the shuttle touched ground, the queasiness hit everyone like a fist to the stomach. A few emptied the contents of their stomachs into available paper bags. I was one of them.
Muck, I hated teleportation.
The moment I stepped off the shuttle, my eyes fell on the view outside the Terminal window: the chain of white sand beaches, the crystal blue waters, the grandiose hotels, and stylish guest houses. The streets should have been filled with round, brown Hitis in their native, heavily embroidered gowns. Instead, they were overflowing with tourists, and would be throughout the year—the downside of having a paradise world with a perpetual summer.
From the Hiti Terminal, I boarded a public transporter to the nearest airport, and flew to Waki-Waki. One train, and two taxis later, I was standing in front of the Happy Lodge Senior Centre.
The Happy Lodge Senior Centre was made of bricks, glass, and adorned with foliage; just like every other building I’d seen so far in Waki-Waki.
Before speaking to the receptionist, I worried that my mother had been registered under a false name. But when I asked for Marie-Arra Everglade, the Hiti at the desk seemed to recognize the name immediately.
“Who should I say is asking to see her?” she asked me.
I smiled. “Her daughter.”
I waited for a few moments, and then the receptionist returned to lead me to a common area.
There were a lot of old people, chatting, playing board games, or snoozing in their chairs. The receptionist led me right past all of them, to a corner where one grey, crooked woman was staring placidly into space. She looked too old—impossibly old—to be my mother. Honestly, she looked too old to be alive. But when we reached the impossibly old woman, the receptionist stopped, and bent over.
“Marie,” the receptionist said. “She’s here.”
The old woman looked up at me, with lost, confused eyes. But I recognized those eyes.
I felt tears burn my eyes. “Hello Mammy.”
And she looked right back at me, and said, “So you’re the one who’s been stealing my peytoe crisps.”
CHAPTER 25
I took another sip of wine, and ran a finger through my hair. I was on my balcony, mulling over my trip to Hiti. It was too early in the day for alcohol, but this was the first time I was seriously thinking about the implications of what I was. That required sedation.
I remembered the woman I had met at the senior centre yesterday, and I could not reconcile her with the Mammy that lived in my memories. My mother had looked three times older than her age, with a clueless glaze in her eyes that broke my heart. For three hours, I’d tried to talk to her. I’d told her that Kattie was doing great. She’d thought Kattie was their laundry woman.
I had looked at my mother, and I’d seen my end. True, learners couldn’t prove that black-bloodedness caused mental instability, but several studies had confirmed a correlation, and that was bad enough. To say I was scared was an understatement.
I was terrified, and the wine wasn’t relaxing me at all.
Dammit, I wanted my pills.
As I emptied my glass, my cell-comm rang. I checked the device, and sat u
p. It was the Lieutenant. He hadn’t called in weeks, and I hadn’t expected him to. I panicked for a few fractions, and then picked the call.
“Everglade?” he said.
“Good morning sir,” I greeted.
“Think you can come by the office this morning?”
“Y-Yes sir.”
“Good. As soon as possible would be preferable.”
That translated into now.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He cut the line. I stared at my cell-comm for a while. Then, I jumped up and headed to the bathroom.
I had a quick shower, and threw on the last clean set of presentable clothes I had left. In my haste, I did not forget to apply concealer to the rubriq on my face and neck. As soon as I was done, I jumped into my transporter and headed to the pro tem station in District 20.
I felt my heart leap when I stepped out of the lift, and into the station. It suddenly occurred to me: I had missed these people. I had missed this job.
As we walked through the office, I said hi to some of my colleagues. A few of them gave me cool nods; many more ignored me completely.
Okay. Maybe they were busy.
I could see Blunc through his office window. He was on his cell-comm, so I sat outside his office and waited. Whilst I waited, I noticed that the office had gone quiet. I looked up, and everybody was staring at me. They returned to minding their own business, but not before I noticed a couple of disapproving frowns, and sympathetic headshakes. I caught a reflection of myself in the Lieutenant’s glass door. Some of my concealer had smudged off, and a few rubriq characters were noticeable along my jaw.
My stomach turned.
I lifted the collar of my shirt, and lowered my eyes. But I could feel them: the stabs of a few dozen glaring eyes.
It wasn’t long before Blunc came to the door.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I said.
“It’s still morning, Everglade,” he said. “Come in. Take a seat.”
I obeyed.
Lieutenant Blunc was a Ruby. He had long shaved off his blond hair though, and his square jaw, thick lips, and weak eyes made him uncharacteristically unattractive for his race. He put on a pair of glasses, and glanced at a document before speaking:
“Now, before I tell you why I called you in here, I have to say something.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re a bloody brilliant enforcer. You’re smart, you’re determined, you’re intuitive, you’re the youngest detective this department has ever seen—maybe the youngest this state has ever seen.”
“To be fair sir, Rubies grow up fast.”
“Yeah, that’s the excuse everyone in this bureau makes when they talk about you, but we all know it’s a puddle of pitch-muck; a phrase of convenience they fall back on when they don’t want to admit that a Ruby has genuine talent. Just because physically, Rubies have shorter adolescences, doesn’t mean it always registers up here.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “Growing up along with the Lilliths, and the Tamish, it’s easy to forget that we don’t become adults at eighteen like them; that we are meant for the table of responsibility much earlier. Rubies don’t grow up fast, Everglade. Not anymore. But you did, because frankly, you’re a damn prodigy.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s why you have to know it’s not personal, when I tell you we’re ending your service with the Metro Enforcement Bureau.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “You’re firing me, sir?”
“Did you not expect that?”
I had.
“I’m sorry, Everglade,” he said, and he sounded it. “But that business with the psyche facility breakout was a phenomenal muck up, and your name’s all over it. We’re lucky the crisis managers over at Senior Intelligence were able to keep it quiet; otherwise the media would be crucifying you right now. The governor’s office isn’t taking any chances: they want you gone, kid. Yesterday.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“No, I understand.” And I did. “The only thing though is—“
“Yes?”
“You didn’t have to call me all the way down here to tell me that. A digi-mail would have sufficed.”
The Lieutenant squirmed in his seat. “Well, we didn’t think that was wise. Given your um…recent self-destructive tendencies.”
“Oh.”
Awkward silence.
“Are you going to be okay, Everglade?”
I stood up, and for the first time, I said with all the confidence in the world: “Yes, sir. I’m going to be just fine.”
When I left my job that day, I didn’t say goodbye to anyone.
And they didn’t say goodbye to me.
CHAPTER 26
Now, I was officially out of commission.
When I told Katrice that the big boys over at the bureau had let me go, she asked if I wanted her to get a job.
“I could get a tutoring job,” she said. “Maybe at the community college.”
“Besides the fact that you’re legally not allowed to do that, I don’t think a lot of students will be thrilled by the idea of taking math instructions from a twelve year old,” I said. “And anyway, I’m the adult here. It’s my job to make sure we eat. Your job is to be a kid.”
“If you say so. But just in case we can’t make rent, I have two thousand credits sitting in my bank account.”
I was surprised. And then, I wasn’t. “Just to satisfy my curiosity: how do you have two thousand credits?”
“Writing papers for college students I meet in cyberspace,” she said frankly. “Don’t worry. I turn them in to their deans after I get paid.”
“Um… Maybe you should stop anyway.”
She shrugged. “I think the morality balances out, but fine.”
“Thank you. And anyway,” I said. “There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can make our savings stretch for at least a month.”
We couldn’t. By the end of the week, I was acutely aware of how bad we were going to have it if I didn’t get a job within the next few weeks. Kattie was my only dependent, and I was used to having a substantial amount of disposable income. However, now that all of that disposable income had been taken from me, I was beginning to understand the importance of proper budgeting. For instance, until now, I hadn’t realized just how much we spent on food every week.
I hated myself for saving so little of my monthly paychecks; I had less than half of what my twelve-year-old baby sister had in her bank account.
So, I tried to get a part-time job: as a secretary, as a waitress, as a security guard. I wasn’t being fussy. But no matter where I applied, or what I applied for, my current status as a psyche patient was flagged on the state employment servers. Every hirer turned me away. As the month drew to an end, I was short on the rent by almost half.
On rent day, I’d still not figured out a way to make up the difference. I was at the kitchen island in the morning, trying to figure out what I could quickly sell to make up the difference, when I got a message on my cell-comm saying the bill had been settled. So I called the property manager’s office, to find out if a mistake had been made. The customer service rep assured me that no mistake had been made; that a deposit of two thousand credits had been made, with the balance transferrable to the next month’s rent.
I was just ending the call when Kattie came out of her bedroom.
“Good morning,” she said. “I am leaving for the learning centre.” She stopped, and regarded me for a moment. “Is everything alright?”
I smiled back my tears. “Yeah. Of course. Everything’s great.”
She nodded, and walked to the door. Just before she stepped out, I added, “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked. Then, she left.
I opened the refrigerator, and got out the wine.
That evening, I was sitting on the balcony, when Evon appeared again.
I felt a blend of emotions when I opened my eyes to find her sitti
ng next to me—a flutter of excitement, a wave of sadness, a twinge of shame. Her dark green skin was almost luminescent beneath the light of the night sky. Her smile was sad. “Celebrating unemployment, are we?”
“Not so much ‘celebrating’ as ‘drowning my sorrows in a torrent of sweet, sweet booze juice’,” I said.
“You sound drunk.” She glanced at the empty bottles and empty takeout cartons at the foot of my chair. “And it looks like you’ve been that way for a while.”
“I have. Since noon,” I admitted. “Found out this morning that Kattie paid the rent. On a related note, I also received word that I am officially the winner of the Muckiest Guardian in the Five Worlds award.”
“And drinking is helping to change that image?”
“Leave me alone,” I grumbled. “They’re bottles from when I wasn’t poor.”
“Bloody light, you’re awful in adversity.”
“That’s not what your mother said.”
“That makes no sense. Also, my mother is a tree.”
Pesky logic.
“I think you’ve had enough for the day. Get up,” she said, frowning. “You’re having a bath, and changing your clothes. You smell awful.”
“You’re a hallucination; you don’t know that.”
“Up you go.”
I took a bath, and threw on a robe. Evon was waiting for me in the bedroom when I returned.
I sat down on my bed, and let my hair drip into my eyes. The water merged with my tears.
“Hey,” she whispered, when she’d sat next to me. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
“I don’t recognize myself,” I said. “I don’t recognize my life. Feels like I’m losing everything, and I can’t control any of it.”
“We may not always be able to control the things that happen around us,” she said, slowly. “But we can control how we react to them. In the end, it’s the only power we’ve ever really possessed. And you have it Arra. You always have.”
The BETA Agency Page 11