“What’s your name?” Marcie said.
“Slip.”
“Slip?”
“I’m small and a good climber. I can slip in and out of places most of the people in the gang can’t.”
“I won’t call you by your gang name. I don’t recognise that nonsense. What’s your real name?”
“Trout.”
“Huh?”
“Dad was a keen fisherman.”
Marcie exhaled, her cheeks puffing out. “Slip it is, then.”
Another train shot past overhead. A Pavlovian wince wound Marcie’s shoulders tight before the screeching brakes slammed on.
“The monoline,” Slip said.
“Huh?”
“That train. You get used to it.”
“Does it ever stop?”
“Not in the past twenty-seven years. Although everyone reckons it’s due for another catastrophic failure.”
“What happened the last time it failed?”
“That’s a story for another time.”
The crowd’s lack of reaction to the whining shuttle backed up Slip’s words. Marcie would be gone before she got used to it. “Do you know how much it costs to get lungs from Prime City?”
“Why would I?”
“A simple no would do.”
“Prime City might be next door, but for someone like me, it could as easily be on the other side of the planet. I’m a lifer here. Most of us in the Black Hole are. The sooner you give up on the idea of crossing through immigration, the better.”
“But you can at least take me to the border between here and Prime City?”
“Sure, come on.”
Maybe Marcie would also get used to being shoulder barged by every other person she passed on the streets. But like with the monoline, she planned to be long gone before that happened.
Slip lived up to both of his names, moving through the crowd like a fish through reeds. Marcie had to focus to keep up, the amber rings of threats flashing and dying all around her. “Do they have a monoline in Prime City?” she said.
Slip nodded. “Yeah, all over the city. Although it’s better maintained. It doesn’t screech as much and never breaks down.”
“That’s something at least.”
A red ring flashed through Marcie’s vision, and Slip halted her progress by barring her way with his arm. A police drone shot over the pair of them, tracking the path of a runner shoving their way through the crowd. “Beat the monoline,” he said.
“What now?”
“That kid who’s being followed by the drone is practicing for beat the monoline. It’s a race Mads puts on every once in a while. The winner gets a pass to Prime City. They get to work there for him. They get paid, and their family gets looked after. If they do two years’ work for him, survive, and avoid arrest in that time, they earn freedom for them and their family. They all get a permanent visa.”
“And you think this kid might do all right?”
“It’s not good that he’s being followed while practicing. That drone will put a bounty on his head.” Slip pointed in the other direction at a girl running across some rooftops. Her cheeks were flushed, and her face glistened with sweat. “I think she’s got a chance.”
“You know her?”
“No. I know the route. She’s taking the smart option.”
“So this race is going to happen soon?”
“That’s the rumour. Mads’ current runner in the city has almost served two years.”
A man yelled and slammed into the boy being followed by the drone. Twice his age and size, the man landed on top of the kid, who barked from the wind being driven from him. The man punched the gasping kid in the face three times in quick succession, beating even the suggestion of a fight out of him.
“What the hell?” Marcie said, but as she stepped forward, Slip pulled her back. “Why doesn’t someone do something?”
“Beat the monoline is an illegal street race. If you get seen by the drone, you’re fair game for the bounty hunters. Just practicing for it is a crime.”
“Where are the police?”
“In the police stations.”
“Why aren’t they arresting the kid?”
“The police don’t do that here.”
“Why?”
“Instead of putting a police force on a salary, Prime City and the Black Hole have drones that find criminals and put a bounty on their heads. Then it’s up to the bounty hunters to bring them in. If you hand over a criminal, you get paid. They think paying for results is much more effective than policing the streets.”
“It’s not?”
“Of course not. When has the privatisation of any public services proven worthwhile? The great lie sold by the government that privatisation creates efficiency. It’s all a ruse for them to relinquish responsibility for people they couldn’t care less about. They even cut the number of drones on patrol year-on-year, which means crime’s gone up a hundredfold. Sure, they bang on about their near one hundred percent conviction rate, but they never talk about all the crime that occurs unnoticed because they have nowhere near enough drones to watch.”
The bounty hunter threw the unconscious kid over his shoulder. Other men and women appeared on the scene too late, charging towards the boy before their shoulders sagged and they slowed their pace. “Do other bounty hunters ever try to take a caught bounty?”
Slip shook his head. “No. Once the bounty’s caught, the others back off. It’s an unspoken rule.”
“That no one breaks?”
“Not if they value their lives and the lives of their loved ones.”
The girl on the roof had vanished from sight.
“They’re practicing Mile End to Deadman’s Corner this time.”
“Am I supposed to understand what you’re saying?”
“Sorry. Beat the monoline. The runners get off the monoline at Mile End station over that way.” He pointed to his left. “They have to run to Deadman’s Corner over that way”—he pointed to his right—“in time to get back on the train they’d alighted. The winner gets the job in the city. If anyone makes it, that is. Anyway, you want to know how to get into Prime City?” They stopped in front of two large chrome gates nestled in a vast wall much like the one surrounding the Blind Spot and Scala City. At least fifty metres tall, the gates were about three metres square. Four guards stood in front of them. They were armed with cattle prods much like the one that had left its mark on Marcie’s shoulder. The scab had healed over, but her skin remained tight.
“That’s your way through,” Slip said.
“What do I need to do? The guards don’t look very approachable.”
“You need to have a visa implant.” Before Marcie could ask him, he said, “It’s a small chip that goes into your forearm. Not only does it show how long you can stay for, but it doubles up as ID. You need ID to do anything in the city. Anyone who’s visiting for a week or more gets an implant. Oh, and anyone working for Mads gets an implant. He prefers the subtlety of an implant.”
“I’m not working for Mads. So what happens if I go in for a shorter time?”
“You get a collar.”
“Sounds ominous. How do I get one of them?”
“Go and ask the guards.”
“Are you sure? They won’t electrocute me?”
“They might. But if you stay respectful, you’ll probably be fine. Oh, and if you go into Prime City, whatever you do, stay away from the undercity, okay?”
Marcie nodded. She’d come here for this very purpose. The guards might not look approachable, but she’d have to talk to them at some point. It might as well be now.
Most people gave the four hulking figures a wide berth, so when Marcie stepped close, all four of them—three men and one woman—tensed in anticipation.
The woman had the left side of her head shaved, her long black hair dragged over to her right. She held her cattle prod with both hands and waved the glowing end in Marcie’s direction. “What do you want?”
“A visa to Prime City. I need to get in and see how much lungs cost.”
“All right, love, I didn’t ask for your life story.”
“But you—”
“You want a visa into Prime City. I get it. For how long?”
“A day?”
“That’s twelve thousand credits.”
“Huh?”
“You deaf or something.”
“No, ma’am. How about half a day?”
“Six thousand.”
“An hour?”
“Two thousand.”
“What’s the cheapest option?”
“Five hundred credits.”
“And how long does that buy me?”
“Ten minutes.”
“How the hell is anyone from here supposed to get into the city?”
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
The glowing end of the cattle prod closer to her face, Marcie drew a deep breath while her cybernetics fired in their desperation to be put to use. “With all due respect, how does anyone from here afford it?”
“Very few do. Everything costs credits in Prime City.”
“But there’s no way to earn money in the Black Hole.”
“There are a few ways. Besides, that’s not my problem.” The woman lifted a large metal collar and held it open as she raised it in Marcie’s direction. “Do you want the visa or not?”
“What’s that?”
“This is the collar you’ll have to wear. It has a timer on it. If you’re still in the city after your time’s expired, it uses supergravity to pin you to the ground. You’ll need a bounty hunter to free you when that happens. They charge one hundred credits for every minute you stay past your time. They’re rarely in a rush to help you, and why would they be? The longer you stay pinned to the ground, the more they earn.”
“So …”
“Get back before your time runs out. Now, I’m busy, do you want a visa or not?”
Slip waited for her on the other side of the street. He stood on one leg, the foot of the other one pressed against the wall.
Marcie handed her credit card over. “I suppose ten minutes is better than nothing.” And she could make it work. She just needed to find someone who sold lungs and get a price. How hard could that be?
Once the woman had swiped Marcie’s card, she slapped the thick metal collar around her neck with a click! A hologram of the time flashed up in front of her. Nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds.
The other guards unlocked the gates while Marcie bit her tongue. Were they taking their time on purpose? At nine minutes and thirty-two seconds, they’d finally opened them wide enough for her to squeeze through the gap into Prime City.
Chapter 28
Nine minutes and twenty-five seconds.
Prime City stretched away from Marcie in every direction. An expansive city that would take her days and maybe weeks to cross. She could spend a lifetime in this city and never get to know all its nooks and crannies. But she didn’t have a lifetime, she had ten minutes. What on earth had possessed her to think that would give her enough time to find anything?
The ground was aglow with markings, the streets pathed with LED lights in metre-square black panels instead of the asphalt she’d been used to in the Blind Spot and the Black Hole. The place as packed as the Black Hole and as grimy in parts. Shady characters moved through the throng, opportunists ready to strike. Different vehicles weaved above her head. Sky apartments on stilts at least fifty metres tall. They stood over the city like alien invaders, transparent walkways between the residences. An entire elevated society, so separate from the activity on the ground, they existed as their own city. They played by their own rules while imposing regulations on those who scuttled below like cockroaches on a stained carpet.
Marcie had seen the skyscrapers from Scala City, their bases twice the width of their tips. It must have been how they managed to build them so tall.
Nine minutes and two seconds.
The street-level buildings might have been similar in appearance to those in the Black Hole—plastered as they were with the garish neon glow of commerce—but the tall tower blocks, the stilted accommodation in the distance, and the fancy hover cars in the sky spoke of ambition. It might have existed almost out of reach, but the promise remained: work hard and you would be rewarded with a better life. You can earn credits here. You can shape your own destiny. Prime City: the land of the socially mobile.
Marcie grabbed the arm of a lady pushing a buggy. The woman turned on her, her right fist balled, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Where would I go to enquire about organ transplants?”
The woman chewed the inside of her mouth while she watched the countdown on Marcie’s collar. At eight minutes and forty-eight seconds, she shrugged and walked away.
Marcie still hadn’t gone farther than twenty metres from the large steel gates. She took off through the crowd. When she hit five minutes, she’d turn back, whatever else happened.
Eight minutes and four seconds.
Marcie had run in a straight line from the gates, but she’d come to a fork in the road. Both options were as equally packed with people. Both options were lined with shops. A third way stood in front of her. Directly ahead, a tunnel leading down beneath the city. Dark smoke belched from its entrance. The people on the streets gave it a wide berth. It had to be the undercity. She followed the right fork.
A red illuminated heart was up ahead on the left. About two metres tall, it hung over the entranceway to a building. Marcie slammed into several people as she picked up her speed. Surely they could tell her something about organ transplants in there. Before she got close to the place, a man blocked her path. Nearly six feet tall, he had a broad chest and wide shoulders. She hit him hard, stumbled back, and landed on her arse with a jolt.
The man had long dark hair slicked back in a ponytail and a camera strapped to his chest. He loomed over her with his arms folded. The timer told them both how long she had left: seven minutes and fifty seconds.
Marcie jumped to her feet, and the man stepped across to block her path. His features fixed, his attention on the countdown timer in front of her mouth.
It had paid for Marcie to keep her strengths hidden when she’d been in the wastelands and the Black Hole, but time constraints denied her that luxury here. She pushed the man aside, her arms shuddering as they worked overtime to shift his weight. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed crimson.
Marcie darted into the shop with the heart above the door. The nature of the shop’s business became clear five seconds too late. The androids, cyborgs, and pure organics all turned to face her. They were here for her pleasure. How could they assist? “Does anyone know where I can get a lung transplant? Or how much they cost?”
At least fifteen pairs of eyes regarded her.
Seven minutes and twenty-two seconds.
Marcie ran back out into the street and halted instantly when three red targets flashed into her vision. Like she needed them pointed out to her. The ponytailed man she’d shoved aside stood in the middle of the three. On his left stood another man with a gelled side-parting. A woman on his right, her ponytail as tight as the man in the middle. Some kind of crew, they wore their shared commonality in their gym-toned bodies and the cameras they had strapped to their fronts. Marcie threw her arms up in a shrug. “What do you want?”
All three bristled. How dare she speak to them like that? The woman finally hissed, “You’re fair game, love.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The woman snarled at her, and Marcie set off again. She didn’t have time for this bullshit. All three followed.
Six minutes and fifty-nine seconds.
Three quickly turned into six. All six were gym fit and ready to test out their training. All six wore body cameras. But slightly farther back, parting the crowd as they ran in formation, came five men with tightly cropped hair. They moved as one. Regimented. Another crew of b
ounty hunters. A different crew. The lungs would have to wait. Ten minutes had been far too ambitious.
Six minutes and twenty-two seconds.
No matter how dense the press of people on the streets, Marcie couldn’t lose her tail. Now at least fifteen bounty hunters. They matched her pace. A police drone brought a red target into her vision as it sailed overhead. Despite her fan club, it had no interest. And why would it? She hadn’t committed a crime and neither had they.
At the end of the next street, Marcie turned left. She’d have to head back soon. Whatever else happened, she couldn’t bankrupt herself by not returning to the Black Hole in time.
Another entrance to the undercity. Smoke billowed from the dark hole, driving out a charred reek of dirt and sweat. Marcie paused.
The bounty hunters slowed down, separating into two distinct groups, every one of them targeted with red circles. Gym-heads with their cameras on one side, militant men on the other. They might have fixed their attention on Marcie, but the air between the two damn near crackled. At least one of them intended to get paid by delaying her return to the Black Hole.
Fighting them would attract too much attention and would only bring on more bounty hunters.
Five minutes and forty seconds.
The entrance led down into what appeared to be abandoned sewers. No more than a dirt track into the abyss.
The ponytailed hunter she’d shoved aside laughed. “You won’t last thirty seconds down there. Why don’t you let us escort you back to the gates?”
“So you can hold onto me until I’ve earned enough to make it worth your while?”
“This is a dog-eat-dog world, sweetheart. We do what’s necessary to survive.”
Five minutes and twenty-eight seconds.
Sweating beneath the metal collar, Marcie couldn’t get her fingers at the correct angle to satisfy the itch.
Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2) Page 12