by S E Anderson
“Your agent?”
“The last one of you we sent upstairs,” said Tam. “They didn’t survive being reintroduced to sunlight.”
“Wait, hold on.” My head was reeling. I had too many questions. “Why not ask someone who’s already up there? Why does your contact need someone from the Undercity?”
“They insisted,” squeaked Ratta.
“Your contact did?”
“No chip in the hand, you see,” explained Shu. “Anyone who falls is wiped from the system. If by any chance you get caught in the palace, they wouldn’t be able to identify you. It’s using the Alliance’s own misdeeds against them.”
I blinked. They weren’t planning an uprising or a coup but a silent takeover. It was sly, cleverly cunning, and completely idiotic.
But try telling Tam that.
I saw why Marth thought his plan was crazy—because it was. If all they had was to take over some robots and reclaim the menial jobs, there wasn't going to be much, if any, change.
Fact was, they could control fire. I had only seen them manipulate it gently, to create light, to calm themselves. But it was still fire, and fire burned. They could easily turn this on the people above and take over far more quickly than whatever their plan was now.
I could tell them this plan was pure insanity, destined to fail. Even if I somehow dismantled the robots with a master code, it wasn't like people wouldn’t repair them. It wasn't like the Downdwellers were anyone's first choice for a replacement.
But if I said anything, I wouldn't be going up.
So, I made one of the truly selfish decisions of my life. I nodded, and kept my mouth shut.
I did say I would do anything to go back home.
“Good,” Tam smiled. “All right. I'll tell our contact things are back on, but we have to get going, and soon. There's only a small window for this.”
“Just tell me what to do,” I said.
They didn't waste any time. They rose and dispersed. Shu and Ratta left to gather the others, while Tam made his way to the back of the house.
“You coming?” he asked, turning back to me.
“Um, yeah.”
I got up and dashed after him as he walked off. Marth stood in the doorway to the kitchen, glaring at me.
“You realize this plan is idiotic, right?” he asked, arms akimbo. “And certainly doomed to fail?”
I guess the look on my face was enough of an answer. Marth’s eyes pulled together, a scowl drawing his lips up. Without a word, he turned away, not even leaving the room, just showing me his back. I guess that was an insult in his culture because I felt waves of coldness emanating from his small frame. I hurried after Tam, trying to ignore the guilt gnawing the back of my neck and digging at the pit of my stomach.
Oh, hello, anxiety. Been a while since I’ve seen you here. Where’s my Prozac when I need it?
“Causeway, Causeway. Come in, Causeway.” Tam spoke clearly and eloquently. I stepped into the small room after him. This had to be a home office, but it was small and cramped, the walls stuffed with brown scrolls. I had to squeeze in just to fit.
“Go for Causeway,” a voice replied, filling the small room. “Come in, Tam.”
“We have the package. Ready for transport. Over.”
“You do?” The voice sounded surprised. “Splendid! We will send a convoy to transport the package for delivery. Congratulations, Tam.”
“Thank you, Mr. Causeway, sir.”
I was the package. Well, I didn't expect royal treatment, but the name felt wrong. Still, I could handle that if it meant getting out of this place.
The two of them arranged a place to meet; they didn't need me there. I stepped out into the hallway, taking in the small house I had lived in for a day. It was small, but it was a home. And I was dishonoring this family and their hospitality by going ahead with this foolishness.
Or I was paying them back in full. This is what Tam wanted. This is what I would do.
Kun glared at me from his room and shut the door. If I was doing something good for these people, why did I feel like shit?
And so, they decided a fanfare was the best way to see me off. Everyone in town—every Downdweller, Theosian, or other—gathered to send me off.
We stood in the middle of a wide avenue, so large that even the light from the many Theosians didn’t reach the walls. Everyone was there: Tam, Ratta, Shu, even Marth, who looked glum next to his partner. Kun and the other children stood off to the perimeter, climbing over each other so they could see over the shoulders of their parents.
They lit the way with their little palm fires. Some had set them in little lanterns, so they didn't have to focus on keeping them burning. Others twisted the flames through their fingers like a pet snake or magic coin, barely paying attention to what they were doing.
Others played music.
So Tam wasn't the only one who knew about the plan. As more people crowded around me, I realized that maybe I was in too deep. Not only did everyone know about the plan, they believed in it.
They believed in me. A stranger.
I wondered who their contact was. Who was this Mr. Causeway? Some high-ranking government official who wanted to put things right? Someone rich and powerful who would put all their resources at the Downdwellers' disposal? Whoever it was, they were my ticket out of here, and for that I was thankful.
It really was a fanfare, though. Some of the Downdwellers played together: poppy music, heroic and uplifting all at once. Their instruments were like nothing we had on Earth. Each person handled a different tube or box of some kind, producing sounds I would never have associated with their looks, somewhere between cords and horns.
I watched them out of the corner of my eye, trying not to stare too long at any one thing. Not polite, after all. If that even was the standard on this planet. I scanned the crowd, taking in the music, the fire, the tears, and my heart sank. I was probably the only one here, except maybe Marth, who didn't believe in Tam's scheme.
Ouch.
Hello, guilt.
Welcome back, anxiety. I didn’t miss you.
My eyes fell on somewhat familiar faces, the first round faces I had seen since falling. Human faces. And the Theosians were right: They were barely recognizable. Their skin sagged and wrinkled like cheap fabric, and a shiver went through me.
This is why I was doing this, why I was lying. There was no way I was going to fade away down here.
I wanted to live.
But so did everyone else here.
“It's time,” Tam said. All at once, we looked to the sky. At first there was nothing, and I wondered if Tam was making things up, but the rest of the Downdwellers were staring exactly where he was pointing. They could see whatever it was, but I saw nothing except darkness.
And then a rope ladder fell right on my head.
It rolled down my face, knocking me back a step. Tam grabbed it and steadied it as the audience looked on.
“So,” I said, one hand on my head to caress the throbbing. “I just ... climb?”
“That tends to be the point of ladders,” Tam said, punctuating his sentence with a smart grin.
I nodded. “Best of luck, Tam. I hope we meet again, under better circumstances.”
“I do too.” He bowed, and I dipped my head in response. “Here, take this.” He handed me one of the homemade lanterns, only this one was smaller than my thumb, with a bright jellyfish of blue fire swimming happily in the bulb. “We're counting on you, Sally. Our lives are in your hands.”
I shuddered, and my hands shook as I took his gift. Definitely not steady enough to hold anybody's lives there. Even the little ball of light rattled. I slipped the tiny lantern onto the cord of the necklace around my neck. It wasn't hot against my skin, or cold. It simply was.
But my hands still shook. I clutched the ladder, making them look steady. Perfect, or at least much better.
“Goodbye, Tam.”
“Goodbye, Sally,” he replied. “Our futures dep
end on you!”
I climbed, my mind racing, trying to find a dramatic response to what he said. By the time I came up with something halfway decent, I had already climbed a good distance, and enough time had passed that it would be weird if I said anything now.
So, I said nothing, and kept climbing.
It was a long ladder. Soon, the lights from the Theosians were mere pinpricks. Above me, there was still darkness.
I guessed it was better that way—I wouldn’t see how high up I was.
Gosh, heights made me sick to my stomach.
I climbed past more awnings that glowed pale in the light of my necklace. Not the same ones that had broken my fall, I don't think, but they were still riddled with holes and tears from years of neglect. Some had shop names on the front, the letters peeling after all these years. I focused on them as I continued to climb up and up, and I put the drop beneath me out of my mind.
“I'm coming, Zander,” I said to the sky.
I reached up and hit metal instead of another rung. It came out of nowhere. I ripped my hand back, losing my grip. And in that moment of shock, my feet slipped. I clung onto the rung with one trembling hand.
You’re in deep shit, Webber, Sally Webber, interstellar woman of mystery and klutz on a ladder.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I climb the anti-social ladder
I was dangling for a split-second before a hand grabbed my wrist.
“Hold on tight. I've got ya,” came a warm voice. The skin was silky smooth, like the paw of a cat, and the grip firm, instantly reassuring. I swung my feet forward to grab the ladder, relying on the hand to stop me from plunging back to the Downdwellers, failing before my mission had even began.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, out of breath, as I climbed up to the metal. It must have been a car or a ship or something like that because there was an actual solid floor. A very inviting one at that.
The arm dragged me up, and I collapsed on the metal, my arms screaming. I hadn't started any kind of workout regime—never expecting Zander to take me into any kind of space danger—so I was, unfortunately, out of shape and I felt it now.
Note to self: if you ever want to explore the universe, you need to exercise sometimes.
“You okay?” The person who had saved me crouched at my side. We were in a van, like the old VWs from the sixties back home, at least in terms of space. Someone else shut the door, sliding it off the roof like it was a storefront.
“Yeah, never better,” I groaned.
The lights were out, but I could tell there were three people in the van with me: the silk-handed person, the one closing the door, and the one at the wheel. I guessed these were the militants fighting for Downdweller rights, the big shots with the money and contacts.
“Punch it, Mal!” the door person shouted to the driver, then threw themselves in the passenger seat. The driver didn’t need to be told twice. The second the door shut, they forced the car forward, rising like an elevator on steroids.
“Five, four, three, two, one ...” the driver named Mal counted, “and we're back on the drive-grid. Resuming power to the mags now.”
They hit the switch, and the van was bathed in light. Finally, my saviors came into view, and my heart joined the Olympic gymnastics team.
The one who had grabbed my arm was humanoid but certainly not human. Her entire body was covered in a short, thick film of white, velvety hair. Her features were arranged more closely to the center of her face, and she had wide, open ears, like she was a rabbit-human hybrid. And yet, as outlandish as that was for me, she looked amazingly classy. She sported a tight, dark blue robe, embroidered around the waist and elbows.
The person at the door had skin like a gummy worm: semi-transparent yet bending light like Jell-O. They looked fragile, like poking them would cause permanent damage. They were bipedal but had an extra pair of arms hanging out of the backpack they wore. Their eyes were wide and childlike.
Finally, the driver turned around, and I realized with a start that this person could have been on Earth, and I wouldn't have paid any attention to him. He had light brown skin and high cheekbones, but cute, round features. His face was covered by big, black marks, like he had let a five-year-old draw on his face with Sharpies.
“Yo,” he said. “You sure you're okay?”
“Me?” I scoffed, pushing myself up. “I'm good. Thanks for the rescue.” I grinned.
The humanoid rabbit stroked my shoulder with a reassuring velvet touch. They were gentle and kind, but I felt like I was the pet bunny rabbit.
“Oh, poor doll!” the rabbit said. “You're free of them now. You’re back in civilization. Don't worry. You're safe. Did they treat your poorly down there?”
“No, they were really nice, actually,” I replied, and her eyes widened.
“Wow, you learn something new every day!” she stammered. “Anyways, I'm Qeetzal. Call me Qee! Our getaway driver is Maloka, and our extra pair of hands here is T'Poxggen.”
“Just call me Pox,” the latter laughed. “My parents were kusil when they were young. Makes sense now, right?”
“Um ... sure,” I said.
“Your skin, it’s so pink! I’ve never seen anything so light on humans. Did that happen when you fell?”
“No?”
I wasn’t all that pink. My abuela had given me a light olive tone, which I guessed wasn’t all that prominent on this planet. They obviously had never seen a Theosian if they thought I was pale.
It was unnerving.
“So, who are you?” Qee asked, her voice rising in pitch, “How long have you had to live ... down there?” They shuddered.
“I'm Sally,” I said, as they helped me onto one of the bean bag chairs, “I fell down there ... yesterday. I think. I've kinda lost track of time.”
“Wow.” Qee nodded to Pox. “Incredible.”
Like it was the most unbelievable thing in the world to lose track of time when there wasn't a dawn or a dusk. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Finally free.
So why was I feeling bad about leaving? Why was I feeling guilty for people I didn't know? Shit, just how much of a conscience did I have? I didn't like this side of me.
I really wanted to sleep.
“Do people who fall down there become the Downdwellers' pets?” asked Pox, sitting down across from me. “Like in the stories?”
“What? No! They're nice people. They gave me a place to stay and everything.”
“Oh,” replied Pox, their frown visible right through their head. “What was it like?”
“Leave her alone,” said Mal. “Can't you see she's been through a lot? Let her rest. She's got enough to worry about and a huge job tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I drifted on the bean bag chair. I watched the rabbit woman and the Jell-o person as they stared back at me, and I wondered how either of them pooped. Then I realized how ridiculous a thought that was and shoved it away. But still, I kinda wished Jell-o person had some visible organs for me to freak out about, the way they were freaking out about my “ordeal” with the Downdwellers.
“You're not from here, are you?” asked Qee, eyeing me cautiously. I shook my head.
“I'm from Earth.”
“Never heard of it!” Mal shouted from the front seat. “It's not Alliance, right? I don't think it's on the list. I should know; I know them all.”
He boasted like my prom date, Mr. Scott “I can name all the countries and their capitals but also their GDP and HDI” Fleming. Now that was a night to forget.
“No, we haven't made first contact yet.”
At that, Pox and Qee's eyes bulged. They stared at me, at each other, then back at me again, almost like in an old Loony Toons cartoon. But the staring got too intense, even for me.
“What?” I asked.
“Holy drang!” Pox let out a small blubbery sound. “Are you a child hire?”
“A what now?”
“A child—no matter. It's not like you would know anything about them.”
They laughed, their voice sounding like gelatin being swung back and forth. “But, like, how do you cope?”
“With what?”
“Like not being civilized,” said Pox.
“Come on, Pox,” Qee scoffed. “You can't ask someone that!”
“Sorry, sorry,” they replied. “I'm just curious. I mean, do you all live in trees or something? Oh my gosh, do you have trees? Do they smell as bad as everyone says they do?”
Gradually, it got lighter outside, which meant that slowly but surely we were rising. The façades of the buildings became more elegant and detailed, and the awnings that had broken my fall became cleaner as we ascended. I stared out the window over Pox's shoulder as they tapped away on what looked like a phone in the shape of a pyramid.
Some buildings dropped away, shorter than the rest. The streets widened as they became avenues and highways, wider than airport runways. Every once in a while, a large ledge indicated a shopping center, going from thinner strips littered with stalls to wider ones with modern shops on the sides.
Soon, something hit my eyes that I hadn't expected to see for a long, long time: sunlight.
The glare was incredibly strong, and Mal pulling down the visor did nothing to help. No one seemed bothered by this, and I realized my eyes had actually adjusted to the darkness below.
The van rose without having to go vertical, which was a huge relief; however, it meant ascension took a while. I would have asked about it, but I didn’t want to talk to these people. Any question about their technology would probably have prompted questions about my own. So, we kept rising, at an annoyingly slow pace, with me fascinated by the brilliance before us.
“Second tier,” Mal said, reading the indicator on the car's dash, some kind of GPS system in three dimensions. Pox nodded slowly.
“I could kill for a pizza,” Qee muttered.
“You say that about most foods,” Pox replied.
“Yeah, but I'm hungry.” The rabbit shrugged. “When we get up there, I'm having a meal. Sally? Sal? Can I call you Sal? Want something to eat?”