by Nathan Evans
“Well,” her nails became interesting; guilt and curiosity at war as her attention flickered between them and him, “yeah. I don’t know a lot about 'The Edge', but, from what I’ve read, most people don’t have the means to leave it.”
“They don’t.” He said. “Neither did I.” He let the statement hang. Despite his skill with such, it wasn’t a tactic or a manipulation. His past, at least, what lied that far back, he didn’t use as leverage.
He didn’t want to continue, but when he saw just how deep Yuki’s interest ran, he saw no other way but to. “The Authority, every once in a while they send a convoy out to 'The Edge'. You know, to dump the waste they, uh, can’t get rid of otherwise.” He chewed his lip, grinding his palm into the surface of the table even harder. “A crew found me out there.”
He stopped, a sliver of irrational shame overcoming him. “I was… I was searching for food.”
“You were alone?”
“Yeah,” he said, “been that way for a while at that point.”
There was no humor left, no more guilt—only concern. “Why?” She asked.
“My mother, Rui,” the name brought with it a smile. He looked Yuki in the eye, “She was pretty. You would’ve liked her.” The thought of his mother, of her dark hair and kind face, broke through his reticence to tell the story. In fact, he no longer was telling a story. He was simply remembering.
“I didn’t know my father. She never said anything about him. I never asked. To be honest, I didn’t really even know there was a need for one.
“She did everything for me: fed me, clothed me… We had this little place. A room that somehow still stood. She kept me there when she didn’t need my help to bring back food." An odd fondness crept into his voice. “It was, it was like she was trying to keep me from seeing how everything was, you know?” He looked to Yuki for validation, knowing there could be none.
“Anyway, what we didn’t keep for ourselves she’d sell down at the markets. Trade for all the other stuff we needed.” Yuki took in every word. Akio returned from the memory, realizing the date had ended up exactly where he hadn’t wanted it to. “And that was life.” He said. “Things just kind of continue that way out there.”
“But what about her?” She said. “They just took you from her?”
Akio shuddered, “No… no, she, uh… she wasn’t around anymore.”
Concern tightened Yuki’s features, her lips compressing into a downturned slit. Her eyes were wide, becoming glassy. Curiosity warred with tact. She said nothing. Akio didn’t need her to; he knew what she wanted.
He continued: “I don’t know exactly what it was, but…” His eyes grew hot again, his face scrunching into an ugly figure, “She just, she came back from foraging one day and… she leaned back against the wall… that was it.”
“Akio, I’m—”
He thrust his palm out, stopping her, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, uh…” He didn’t finish, unsure of exactly what it was he was apologizing for. “I left after that. I couldn’t stay there anymore. I don’t know how long I was alone for... It was awhile. One of the people from the disposal unit, a woman actually, she saw me rooting through one of the trash heaps. There had been others that had found me before that—they just left me, but for some reason, she couldn’t.
“Next thing I know, I was placed in the hands of The Authority. For the first time in my life I had to go to school.” He laughed, brushing at his cheeks. Yuki laughed with him. “Never did find out her name.
“Well,” he said, regaining a modicum of composure, “now that I’ve depressed you completely, I’m starting to wonder where the hell that damn waiter is.” He looked around, his expressions exaggerated, playing the fool.
Rather than laugh, Yuki reached out, enveloping his hand with hers.
He went still at her touch.
She stared at him intently and he returned the gaze with equal measure. “I’m sorry, Akio. You deserved more than that.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I am.” She said, her voice dropping an octave. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”
The waiter returned, setting down two slabs of Colt and veggies. A witty remark and question of further service were returned with a polite smile from Yuki. For Akio, they fell on deaf ears. He merely stared at Yuki, a foolish grin stretching from ear to ear.
The waiter left.
Without so much as a word or glance at Akio, Yuki picked up her utensils and started eating.
CHAPTER 12
Akio lay awake. He was afraid to go to sleep; a feat his arm had accomplished hours ago thanks to Yuki. She lay in the crook, her head and hair splayed across his anemic chest. Despite the feeling like pin needles pushing through his skin, he let her be, watching her sleep.
There was a dull ache in his lower abs and groin, a sensation he wasn’t used to after sex; yet another result of too much time spent in Haven. It seemed he was always comparing Haven against reality, reality losing out every time—every time but now. For once, he welcomed the pain, he’d earned it. It was a small price to pay for how good he felt; in a way, the pain made the feeling all the sweeter.
When he wasn’t observing Yuki, stroking her hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest against his, he was taking in what lied outside her window; the same view that had captivated him previously. It was as spectacular as he remembered it. A haze of impossible colors that made him feel as if he were dreaming. In fact, as he lied there, reflecting on his recent good fortune, he’d decided he must be.
Maybe the bad trip hadn’t ended. Maybe the visions and dreams weren’t telling symptoms of Haven degradation. Maybe he’d already degraded.
How did he know he wasn’t just another victim of his addiction? Perhaps he’d lost his mind like all the others. Perhaps, rather than lying in an unfamiliar bed next to this unforgettable woman, he was really in an alley somewhere, picking through garbage, talking to phantoms.
The thought sent a chill coursing through him that the warmth of Yuki’s body couldn’t counteract. Still, a part of him, maybe the part that had convinced Yuki he’d deserved more, was willing to accept that outcome as well. After all, he’d earned that too...
Something creaked in the darkness.
A last second thought of Yuki was the only thing that kept him from shooting up in bed at the sound. He craned his neck, wrenching it in a way as to see over the dark mound their bodies created. The dim light the window provided wasn’t much to see by, but it was enough that he could just make out the door to the bedroom. It was cracked open.
It had been shut before.
His heart thumped in his chest. The dark path his thoughts had taken making him jumpy. He smacked his head against the pillow, punishment for overreacting to what could only be the wind. Carefully, he shuffled free from Yuki’s grip.
The carpet in Yuki’s room was thick, he didn’t have to worry about making noise. He walked to the door, and grabbed the knob, ready to ease it shut. A streak of fluorescent light caught his eye. It cut a wide swath across the living room. His grip tightened on the knob.
The living room door was open, lazily swinging shut on its whining hinge. As the swath of light became a sliver, just before the door closed completely, Akio caught sight of it.
A hem, blue floral print, disappearing into the hallway.
He blinked. His eyes burned. The door shut.
His blood turned to ice. He stumbled backwards, his mouth agape. He was just able to choke back the scream that was welling in his throat. He looked to Yuki—still asleep, rolling over in bed.
Despite his whole body shaking, he was able to dash back to the bedside noiselessly. He fumbled through an amorphous pile on the floor—his clothes—and began dressing. The lack of light proved no obstacle. He was barreling out of the room as he frantically struggled with his shoes.
A twinge of guilt accompanied one last glance at Yuki before he was through the door.
His eyes seared with pa
in when they came in contact with the harsh fluorescents of the hallway. He shut them, jamming the edges of his palms against them. He never stopped running.
Over the sound of his beating footsteps, he heard the ding of the elevator. He wasn’t able to reach it before it closed. Another glimpse of floral print, this time joined by a naked heel. The steel shutter connected home.
He threw his body against the door opposite—the auxiliary staircase—the motion near preternatural, as if driven by a force stronger than his own power. It was a long way down. He barely noticed. He flew past a series of utility doors, a small, reinforced pane of glass bolted into the center of each one. He spared a glance through them as he crossed each landing, tracking the progress of the elevator and its occupant. He reached the ground floor just behind it.
A loud bang echoed in the cavernous lobby as Akio smashed through the final door. He was met yet again by the closing steel shutter of the elevator. His head careened from side to side, catching sight of a woman—black hair and a blue dress—disappearing through the glass lobby door and into the dark and the rain.
He tore after her. The lobby guard shouted something at his back. It was lost to the sound of heavy, driving rain.
The dress and the heel it belonged to rounded the side of the building. He stopped for a fraction of a second, dumbfounded at the speed of the girl. Bare feet on pavement—she shouldn’t have been able to move that fast.
He followed. The rain mingled with thick billows of steam from sidewalk grates. The smell was noxious. The pure white fog carrying with it the choking stench of garbage. His vision already impaired, it was yet another sense rendered useless. He hacked, his lungs burning.
The girl began to draw ahead, ducking down a different alley anytime he got close.
He kept running. He ran until his legs felt like rubber. He ran until his chest burned as badly as his eyes did.
He rounded another corner, another alley. A grate hissed, flooding the trench with white. He lost her in it, stumbling through.
The smoke issuing from the grate thinned the further he waded in, trailing out of the mouth of the alley. He came to the other side, rushing onto an empty street.
The girl was gone.
He doubled over, his palms on his knees. Rain rushed down his face, clogging his nostrils. It felt as if a burning coal had been jammed down his throat. Every part of him trembled with fatigue, with fear.
His mind was as overtaxed as his body. The blood in his temples coursed with the strength of rivers, stuffing his cranium to the point that he couldn’t think or see. He had no idea where he was; no inkling of just how far he’d followed the girl.
Not until his vision cleared.
He stood in the middle of a court housing long abandoned behemoths of steel and glass. Its expanse was wide, open and dark. The light that was available illuminated the downpour that assaulted the street surface. Part of that light was provided by a single bulb that shone over a familiar steel door across the street.
Akio went still. Something warm dribbled down his cheek, mixing with rain. He allowed his hand up to his face, pressing his palm against it.
Blood snaked through his fingers.
Through pink tinged eyes, he watched the red lines spider to the tip of his elbow and fall. The thud of his heart became as audible as the sound of rain. It was all he could hear. Everything else fell away.
As he stood there on that empty street, he understood just how far he’d allowed his impulses to take him. He knew that soon his mind would no longer be his. He accepted the beginning of the end.
Then he packed that acceptance away and headed for the door.
…
“Akio—long time, no see.” Plug greeted him with his usual jocular condescension. It went away the moment he laid eyes on him. The red had stopped flowing and been washed away, leaving cracked, puffy seams at the corners of his eyes. His mouth was a deadly humorless slit; a signal that left no room for Plug’s shit.
“Let me in.”
Plug’s jaw unhinged and he chewed the corner of his lip, a single eyebrow rose as he sized up the junkie on his doorstep.
Akio, his fists balled up at his sides, opened one of them, turning the stressed palm face up.
The eyebrow went up higher. Plug smacked his lips, “All right,” he said, “come on in.” Leaning his weight on the door, Plug shuffled his massive bulk to the side, waving his fabric clad arm out before him. Akio stepped in without sparing a glance in his supplier’s direction.
Even over the hum of the machine and the odd coo from the line of users plugged in ahead of him, Akio heard the door clack closed.
“So,” Plug said, moving to stand in between Akio and the machine, “you’re back.” He crossed his arms, the mass of flesh and muscle making him appear even larger than he already was, “I assume this means you actually brought what you owe.”
Akio thrust his chin out; a gesture that bordered on challenge. He turned his palm up. “It’s all there.” He said. “Now plug me in.”
Plug grimaced, staring Akio down once more. He took up Akio’s hand, placing his gloved one over it.
The yellow bar of light engulfed Akio’s barcode, making its way up and back before taking the shape of a screen that hovered parallel between both of their palms. The data made its revolution to Plug’s forearm, orienting itself so it could be read. Akio stared through the ever descending figure, “Take what I owe you—nothing more.”
Another command.
His eyes alight with greed as he drained Akio’s account, Plug pulled away from the screen, drawing himself up to his full height, inflating his chest.
The figure hit its base and the hard light shorted and died. Plug stared at Akio, his malice open and apparent. He nodded toward an open station on the left side of the machine. “Go ahead.”
Akio eyeballed Plug one last time before moving on. Sidling against the machine, he pushed his arms out to his sides, allowing the curved rods to eject and cradle him, lifting him up off the ground and into the visor.
Fantastic color bored into his pupils as Haven welcomed him once more.
CHAPTER 13
All was quiet when he awoke, save for the far off chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves high above. He opened his eyes to find a thick forest canopy, rays of sun piercing through, focused like a thousand spotlights on a thousand stages. The rustling of leaves intensified as a gust of wind, gentle yet firm, kicked itself up, caressing him. Long wisps of impossibly green grass danced with the breeze, revealing to Akio what he lied amongst.
He sat up and looked around, his gaze barely able to crest the tips of the tall grass, and knew that he’d been successful, that the Girl he’d chased in the other world would be here; but he also knew that something was wrong.
He looked to his palm, hoping to find it blank. His barcode remained. He was fully clothed—exactly as he’d been before he’d entered the system.
His hands plunged into the soil for purchase and he closed his eyes, waiting for Haven’s reality to burn through like a cigar through paper; to reveal the maelstrom that he knew lied on the other side. When he opened them, it was without pain and everything was as it had been before he’d closed them.
Somewhere in the distance the sound of tinkling water could be heard. He stood, but couldn’t see it. Tree trunks thicker than redwoods surrounded him on all sides and seemed as if they went on forever. He concentrated on the hiss of water and began walking.
He strolled beneath behemoths, all of the urgency that had driven him to chase the Girl was gone. There was no reason to rush here. Time inside of the system was compressed. Seconds could mean hours; lifetimes could mean seconds.
His fingers ran across the thick armor of the trees, sometimes clutching them for purchase when he needed to find his bearings. The steady babble of a stream grew louder the deeper he delved in, reaching the apex of its pitch when he came upon it.
Water, the clearest he’d ever seen, rushed over its
elf down a slight slope. It was partially concealed by reeds nearly as tall as him. The stream’s flow was so transparent, so ethereal, that he would’ve missed it entirely if it weren’t for the golden sunlight it reflected and concentrated like a powerful mirror. Though he could look directly at the beam of light with no consequence if he wished to, he instinctively shielded his eyes with his burnt palm; the memory of crimson running down his cheeks penetrating through even here.
The reeds parted as he moved forward, seeming to bend and fold away a hairs breadth before he even touched them. The path, like the stream, sloped downward. It wasn’t until he made a bit more progress that its bank came into view.
The Girl sat at its edge, her back to him. She sat on a fallen log, a mere fraction of the girth of the titans he’d strolled through. Wind gusted when he laid eyes upon her, her hair blowing, mingling with dead leaves and locks of vegetation whittled down to near nothingness. Her curves, her edges glowed with the reflection of the sun.
“Hello, Akio.” She said, not bothering to turn around.
“‘Hello, Akio?’ That’s it—that’s all you have to say?” He began to shake, anger, for who or what he did not know, coursed through him. His voice quivered, “How—how did you get out there? How did I see you?”
“You didn’t see me, Akio. You couldn’t have.”
“But,” his eyes searched the ground as if there was something there that could make sense of everything, “I did. You were out there. You—” he began the sentence as if he didn’t want to finish it, “you ran from me.”
“I didn’t run, Akio. I didn’t walk. I didn’t crawl. Whatever you saw—a projection, a memory—it wasn’t me.” Her voice fell hollow, “It could never be me.”
“What do you mean?”
She turned her head to face him, tears as bright as the stream falling down her cheeks. “This, Akio—this place. All of this—I can’t leave it.”
“You can’t leave it?” He murmured, his mind sluggishly racing to make sense of the words. He became deaf and blind to his surroundings as he fell upon a realization he didn’t want to face.