Wilders

by Brenda Cooper

  “Then the city probably did know where you were. At least, anytime she was connected back to it and had any priority on the net. The connectivity out there is allocated by priority and small lost girls probably don’t have much.”

  Coryn swallowed at the description, but she said nothing. It was correct.

  “And inside the dome, the city knows what you say. Laws protect your privacy from other citizens, but not from the city itself.” Julianna looked around. “He’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

  It made Coryn nervous not to be able to see her dog. She craned her neck.

  Julianna smiled at her and kept going, her confidence only reassuring Coryn a little. “All companion robots report everything. If what you say doesn’t matter, the city doesn’t care. It dumps the details a few days after the conversation. But it records things that happen to influencers or even that happen near influencers. So Seacouver already knows you’ve run with me more than once. It’s already watching you. If Paula had come with us, the city would know where we are and what we say; neither of us would have any privacy.”

  Aspen trotted out from under a wide bush with varicolored red and green leaves and tiny white flowers, and Coryn sighed with relief. “Here, Aspen!” He looked at her and started over, so she turned back to Julianna. “Surely the city knows where we are all the time. It knew when I skipped school, even if I left Paula at home.”

  “It didn’t know where either of us were after we entered the tunnels.”

  Anger about the fake Paula still burned through Coryn, but at least her voice had stopped shaking. “How? Surely you can’t keep sensor dust out of the tunnels?”

  “We do. We must have been wearing dust on our way in, since that had to have come with the rainclouds, if nothing else. But none of us had live dust by the time we arrived here.”

  Coryn fell silent, puzzled, waiting for Aspen to come back to her. He didn’t, quite. He stopped a few feet short and flopped down on the grass, watching her. Maybe he didn’t like to be close to her anger. Someone had told her that once, about dogs. “Did you build the tunnels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “So we could be safe from the city if we needed to be. We didn’t know what we were creating back then. A self-healing city run by linked smart systems? Billions—billions of billions—of real-time feeds online? Millions of people interacting with a computer every day and not really knowing it, so they’d still be people? No one had ever tried anything like it. So we built physical back doors into the city upgrade plans. We had that power, early on. They’re all over Seacouver and here, at least.”

  Julianna stopped, looking around as if seeing her gardens with fresh eyes. “Not that we need the tunnels in the way we thought we might. We were afraid the city systems might fail. Or attack us. But it works. The city works. Mostly. Everyone has enough to eat and enough power. Almost everyone has a job to do. We still have elites and creatives and entrepreneurs . . .”

  Julianna looked proud as she glanced over at Coryn. “I suppose that only makes some sense to you. There are issues. You’ve seen those. The problems—the deep ones—they’re with human psychology, not the infrastructure. We’re trying to understand that now. But even though it works, it’s smart to have a safe place. The tunnels and our other shielding makes it impossible for the city to watch our every move. It’s not stupid, the city.” Julianna glanced up, as if the city existed in the sky.

  Given that they were in the open and under the dome, that wasn’t too far-fetched. Not really. Coryn shivered. What the city really a single entity? Were the cities connected?

  “It knows approximately where we are. But it can’t hear this conversation. I couldn’t bring a part of it—Paula—into this place.” She gestured toward the fake Paula. “She’s been scrubbed of the usual connections to the city. Every robot in my households has been scrubbed. Any I take outside as guards have not; they need the city connection.”

  “My Paula was more than a connection to the city.”

  “Of course she was. And you are more than your bones.”

  Coryn hesitated. “Maybe we would have been okay if I’d stayed with her.”

  “Maybe you would have been. But you have to grow up someday.” Julianna pointed at Aspen, who watched them both, his eyes flicking back and forth even though his head rested on his crossed paws. “The dog is strange, and probably an impediment. But you love it, and it’s worthy of love. A program isn’t.”

  Coryn knew Julianna was right, at least about that last. But refused to let the water pressuring the dam of her resistance break through. She’d lose it if that happened. “What about my sister?”

  “That’s a good question. I’m trying to find out what happened to her.”

  “How?”

  “I have people—and programs—looking.”

  “I thought programs were for children.”

  “Emotional attachment to programs is for children.”

  That stung. “So half the city is made up of children.”

  Julianna smiled. “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  As the second day without Paula dawned, Coryn climbed immediately out of bed. She had to find Lou, which started with finding Julianna and seeing what she knew. Running clothes lay at the foot of her bed: lovely dark green compression pants with pale green highlights and periodic bright white blocks for design, a black bra, and a bright yellow shirt. Clearly printed. They fit her exactly. She stepped into expensive running shoes that conformed to her foot so tightly that she sat for a moment, wriggling her toes, relishing the sensation. No wonder the old woman could outrun her. The shoes and clothes felt so soft and supple they seemed like skin.

  Julianna had ordered food for them outside yesterday, and then Coryn had passed out again. From the angle of the light, she had slept all night and through the early morning. She smelled baking bread and followed the scent down a long hallway lined with pictures of animals. She knew the black rhino was long extinct, and one of the types of elephants. Maybe everything on the wall. The pictures were all close-ups, focusing on the animals’ structure and beauty, taken in a way that made each seem unique. She remembered the huge herd of buffalo Lou had shown her, and how Lou had said that, in spite of that success, failures beset them.

  None of the others were in the kitchen, not even Blessing or Day. Not Julianna. A human woman she had never sat quietly at the end of a large wooden table, as if waiting for her. She had simple features and light brown skin, unremarkable except that there was an ethereal air to her in spite of the obvious muscle that defined her body. Her hair was caught up in a colorful scarf. She looked up and greeted her. “I’m Eloise.”

  No robots. Even in the orphanage, the servant would have been a robot. But she let Eloise bring her rehydrated food for Aspen and a plate full of toast and eggs and cut-up mango for herself. As she finished, Julianna came in, also dressed in running clothes. “I thought maybe we could run. Are you recovered enough?”

  What was this? Boot camp? “Do you know how Lou is?”

  Julianna poured two glasses of water. “Let’s go outside. Bring some water.”

  Eloise handed Coryn water and a bag of dog treats, which she tucked into a pocket in her running shirt.

  Coryn followed Julianna, suddenly apprehensive. Why were they about to go running instead of finding Lou?

  Julianna led them to a small purple table under a dogwood in full bloom. White flowers cascaded around them, the grass underfoot softer than carpet. The air smelled of lilac, and hummingbirds darted through the trees on either side of them. Julianna watched one of the tiny birds for a while, her eyes flicking after it every time it reversed direction. When it flew away, she turned to Coryn. “I’ve asked about Lou. I was able to verify that the only orders the city has were to allow her to be detained and hidden.”

  The wording puzzled Coryn. “Orders the city has? Did the city arrest her?”

  “The city maintains everyday detentions.
I suspect that, in this case, the allowance was for one of the NGOs. I haven’t found out yet.”

  “RiversEnd Ranch, I suspect. Her boss was angry with her. Victor. Do they have Matchiko, too, and Shuska? They’re always together, them and Lou, like Blessing and Day.”

  “Everyone she was with, except you three. Blessing and Day were already mine, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. It wasn’t too hard to ask them to keep you nearby.”

  Had they? She hadn’t felt manipulated. Maybe they had arranged to keep her away from Lou. Maybe they’d even arranged it with Lou, since Lou seemed so distracted. Her sister might have liked that. The thought left a bitter taste in its wake. “I have to find her.”

  “I have good information systems. I’ll let you know when and where she turns up.”

  “What about the others? Weren’t all the gates attacked?”

  “All of the attacks failed. It will be forgotten by tomorrow. The news-spinners are already working up other distractions.”

  Coryn frowned. “So what good did we do?”

  “It’s too early to tell. Probably not much.”

  “Do you have other news?”

  Julianna pointed up. “See the pair of hummingbirds?”

  “They’re so fast.” The birds were nearly impossible to see as they moved from place to place, so when they stopped to hover it seemed almost like they materialized out of thin air.

  “The ecobots are still in town, theoretically being examined to see how they were hacked. I have a better question. How was the city so ready for you?”

  She hadn’t considered that. “Was it? How do you know?”

  “No one got hurt except the two city police that Paula hurt, and one policewoman that fell off an ecobot near a different gate. Fell. No infrastructure was seriously damaged. They even got to test their weather systems.” She smiled. “Maybe Paula told the city you were coming.”

  Paula wouldn’t do that. But she had no proof, and never would. “I need Lou. I almost died to find her. More than once. I saw dead people. It was terrible. But if I have to do it all over again, I will.”

  “Is she worth that?” Julianna watched another hummingbird. “Blessing suggests Lou found your visit inconvenient.”

  She bit back a gasp. Not that the idea was new, but this confirmation hit deep. “We’re sisters. I found it inconvenient when she left the city. She found it inconvenient when I left it and went to see her. She’s still the only family I have.”

  “I don’t have any. Not anymore. But I do have friends.”

  Coryn just stared at her. She couldn’t think of a single person besides Paula and maybe Blessing and Day she’d list as friends. And Blessing and Day had turned out to have hidden agendas, like getting her here. She had thought Julianna might be a friend. She wasn’t sure right now. Maybe she didn’t have any friends at all.

  Damn it. She couldn’t think that way. It led down to the ledge her mom had fallen off. The ledge that felt closer without Paula, but that didn’t mean she was going to jump off of it. Not her. She took in a deep breath and channeled Blessing as well as she could, pasting a smile on her face and looking polite.

  “What matters the most,” Julianna said, “is ideas. We haven’t saved the earth yet. What was the goal of the great taking?”

  “To rewild half the earth to protect biodiversity and mitigate climate change.”

  “Well.” Julianna laughed out loud. “That’s the textbook definition.”

  “Isn’t that right?”

  “In principle. As we were selling the idea, our nickname for it was ‘last-chance lifeline.’ The words you just used are sterile, meant to pull the fright and immediacy out of a messy and desperate situation. The fact that whole cities full of people think it’s going far better than it is scares the shit out of me.”

  Coryn almost jumped at the word. Julianna didn’t swear.

  “We don’t have the half-wild yet, we don’t even have healthy cities yet. We haven’t stopped the extinctions, or the migrations, or the deaths from new tropical diseases born of who-knows-what.” She waved a hand around at the gardens. “This is all managed by me and my staff. Everything in the city is managed.”

  “I know. I used to weed.”

  “So you understand the concept of invasives?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Coryn snapped.

  “Sorry.” We don’t have a just society yet. Your parents died of social ills.”

  “They killed themselves.”

  “Because the cities are pretty, but diseased. They’re a success—we pulled a lot of people out of places they were poisoning or that had been poisoned by other people. We made the rewilding possible. Some people thrive –we have fabulous art and dance, we have a good space program, we have great sciences. We’re healthier than ever, physically. Better.”

  “Like you.”

  Julianna tilted her head back and laughed. “I suppose.” She smiled at Coryn, an almost-intimate smile. “And you. But only about half the people in the city are thriving. The others?” She took a sip of water and stared at another hummingbird. “Our new diseases are nuanced diseases of the heart and mind; they’re loneliness and boredom. Loneliness in a city of billions, boredom with more free education than ever, more things to see and do.” She stopped a moment and then took a deep breath before she said, “I researched your parents. They didn’t fit anywhere. They tried and tried and they failed. Our suicide rate has been rising since 2010, and you mom and dad were typical of one common cohort.”

  Coryn stood up, circling the table to dump energy. Aspen followed her, weaving in between her legs; she sidestepped to avoid tripping over him.

  Julianna watched the two of them, her face a study in patience.

  “Okay.” Coryn didn’t want to talk about her parents any more. “But not everyone in the city is sick. I know about the failed Auties and the disaffected. Who doesn’t? I mean, we see the drones follow them everywhere. And none of us got to the orphanage by having a great life or being one of the rich. In spite of that, I met a lot of kids at school who will be fine, and our old neighbor worked in tech and he loved it. One of my friends from school has a brilliant Autie brother that three tech companies are courting.” She sat down again. “A lot of the people I used to ride bikes with—and run with—seemed happy.”

  Julianna sighed. “Some people have low expectations.”

  Coryn’s voice rose. “There’s all the AR. I missed it a lot; it felt great to put it on. And you’re fine.”

  Julianna let a bitter laugh escape before saying, “You’re justifying.”

  Coryn took a deep breath, tried to slow down. “I may not have a lot of friends, but the city has infinite opportunity. I just can’t reach it. But I can see it all around me, people succeeding. Look at what you have!”

  Julianna made a sour face.

  Coryn laughed. “I just don’t know how to get to happiness yet. I needed to find Lou first, anyway. She’s family.”

  “You chose to have a barrier between you and most people.”

  Coryn stopped, unsure what Julianna meant, and then decided it was the same thing the woman couldn’t let go of. “Paula?”

  Julianna didn’t even bother to answer. So yes.

  Julianna stood up. “Ready to run? We can talk on our breaks.”

  Coryn glanced down at her empty glass. Julianna obviously didn’t understand what Paula meant to her. Being without her was like going through a day with half of herself missing.

  “Leave your glass.”

  “I’m used to cleaning up after myself.”

  Julianna didn’t bother to reply.

  She didn’t feel like running at this moment. Julianna had always disappeared on her. She had always come back, but what if she left today and didn’t come back for weeks? Coryn had so many questions. She swallowed and tried to figure out where to start. “Can I leave here if I want to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you have robots?”

  “As few as
possible. I use them for guards when I run outside in the city. Only a fool would expect human guards to save her from an attack by robots.”

  “I bet you use robots to guard this place, too.”

  Julianna hesitated. “Point.”

  “Paula kept me safe for years.”

  “You needed her when you were three,” Julianna snapped. She took off, starting slow.

  Coryn hesitated.

  If she didn’t run with Julianna, she might not see her again.

  It took Coryn a full five minutes to catch up. The path was just wide enough for the two of them, a soft pale-yellow surface that looked brand new. The conforming shoes felt light on her feet and took impact well. They did make her feel faster.

  They ran silently for a while. They were naked—no AR, no electronics. Since no robots followed them, they must be on Julianna’s—what had she called it? A compound. It wasn’t an infinitely large space; after about a mile it became clear they were doing a circle as they passed in front of the table again. Their water glasses had been filled, but they didn’t stop yet. As they started the third mile, Julianna said, “I’m sorry. I know you must be worried about your sister.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  They slowed to an easy talking pace. Lou was so much. How could she describe her? “She used to hang pictures on her bedroom walls, kind of like the ones you have on your hallway wall. Only scraps of paper, not framed. Extinct animals, threatened animals.” A bird flew up in front of them, startling her, and she laughed at the timing. “She used to brush my hair and braid it.” Lou had brushed her hair for hours that night in the farmhouse, that first night, even though she’d said she didn’t have time. “She was always tough, but she’s become something more now. She can tell powerful people what to do. I mean powerful for the Outside. Not like you.” She was rambling; she had to bring it back in. “She’s passionate about animals, and about things being fair. We had an argument over my last junior high school paper. She said the rewilding was failing, and I thought it wasn’t.”