by Clay Gilbert
It shows, Ace said. What can they really do to me? Jonathan asked. There’s no real police here, just the citizen patrols. What am I missing? What are you all fighting for?
Ace’s reply shocked Jonathan. What can they do to you? They’re already doin’ it. They’ve been doin’ it. You don’t know the half of it, dome. And you are a dome, if you let them scare you. You don’t know the whole tale, man.
Then tell me, Jonathan said.
I will.
* * * * “I’ll tell you, man, it hasn’t been easy. This place—the Forgotten City—we built it to keep out the domes and keep them dumb to the whole scene. All I can say is that we wanted to be left alone, but if you don’t walk like a dome and talk like a dome, and if your whole world doesn’t revolve around those damn black glass buildings, then your opinion counts for nothing, and your life not much more. I figure you’re about seventeen. You’re not old enough to be packedoff to work yet, but old enoughto worryabout what’s gonna happen next year when you are. Get out, man. Just leave. Your old man, your ma? Come on, they’re scared, but they’re as good as dead already. You’re scared, sure, and you’re young still, but you’re alive. You’re alive enough to fight, alive enough to care. Don’t let your folks send you out there to work for them, ‘cause if you do, you’re as good as dead, too.
“What are we fighting for? I started fighting because I hated my parents—or thought I did—but what I really hated was the way they thought. ‘The Providers know all,’ that’s what they always told me—all while anybody who so much as moved in a way that wasn’t Regulation just disappeared. No public executions, nothing for the screencrews to broadcast. No, anyone who disagreed was just gone.
“Then, one day, I’d had enough, seen too many people disappear, and gotten tired of hearing how righteous and holythe Providers were. Iwaseighteen, and myparents were threatening to pack me off with the other domes my age to Govsec. All that black glass scared me even then, man. So I just left.
“I was lucky. I found contacts on the streets, people who showed me where the others like me were. They brought me to the Forgotten City. It was a whole other world, somethin’ I couldn’t have even dreamed. I was amazed at the people here at first—at their spirit, their diversity, their life, man. Everyone here looks different. Everyone here is different. Sure, there’s people herewho wear their hair the same length as someone else they know, but do they act the same? No way. We all have one thing in common, though. Every one of us is here because we want to be ourselves, and the City wouldn’t let us. We don’t want to live apart from everyone else, but if the Providers want to tell everyone in the City who and how they can be, then we’ll take our chances where we have to.
“You ask how we can hurt people, how we can set fires and bomb buildings? Have you seen it—anywhere besides on a vidscreen? Who says we’ve hurt anyone? Them? The domes call us rebels. Well, that’s not so bad, when the things you’re told to believe in are wrong. Least we’re not murderers. You oughta ask them what happened to the people who disappeared. It’s all a piece of the whole tale, man. It’s all how you look at it. One day, you’ll have a chance to choose for yourself. I’ve gotta go. I’ll be here if you wanna talk again. Take care, man.”
* * * *
It’s all a part of the whole tale. It’s all how you look at it.
Ace’s words rang through Jonathan’s mind. Did anyone know what had really happened? Would anyone say if he were to ask? That was insane. Everyone knew. Even he knew, as soon as Ace said it. They were gone. That was the risk Ace’s people, therebels of the—the Forgotten City, he’d called it—took in going against Regulations. It’d be his risk, too. Was it worth it? Jonathan didn’t have an answer yet.
The plastic smile was back on the newsperson’s face that night, but now Jonathan thought he could see behind it, and there was a disconnect between the flatline calm of her voice and the fear that was clear in her tone and in her eyes only the night before.
“Good evening, citizens! The government tonight is blaming a series of riots in Govsec on the recent raids by rebel youth gangs. The riots began after the afternoon work shift today when a group of citizens staged a protest rally blaming the gangs for disturbing the City’s peace and asking the Providers to put an end to the violence. Our Visual Department has footage—”
Jonathan heard little else. As the footage of the riot swirled before him, he searched the faces of the citizens onscreen for some trace of pity or compassion, even some sign that it was all an act. He knew it wasn’t. What they’d done, they’d done for the sake of duty, and the love of the unseen gods who were their Providers. He could find no other emotion in their faces but a grim reflection of the fanaticism he’d found in his own father’s eyes.
* * * *
I didn’t do it, man. I swear I didn’t.
Didn’t do what, Ace? Jonathan hadn’t even had time to put on the electrodes when he heard Ace calling him from across the neuronet. He was lucky his parents were gone for the afternoon. Now, with the signal strengthened, he asked again:
What happened? Killed. Two domes. One of our people went crazy last night and ambushed them on their way back home from work. Shot them. In the head.
Ace’s words might well have been bullets aimed for Jonathan’s own brain. It could have been me. Or my parents. It could have been us.
Why, Ace? He asked. I don’t know. I told you, man, he went crazy. I’m sorry. The thing that makes me sick is that just a little while ago, I could have done the same thing. I’d gotten so busy resisting that I forgot I used to be a dome, too. You made me remember. Thanks for that, man.
A tear came into Jonathan’s eye. Ace, remember they’re people, too. The City—the Providers—it’s all they know. And not everyone questions what they’ve always known. Not everyone’s like me and you. They’re afraid, that’s all.
I know. Hey, Ace? How can I keep them out of my head? I mean, I know I’m not eighteen yet—but—there’s gotta be a way of making sure—
Start skipping the thoughtfeeds if you can do it without being noticed. That’s the first thing. The other thing is think how you want things to be. I can send you music through the Net. Clips from old screenshows and things. We don’t have much, but it’s more than what you have there.
That’d be great, Jonathan thought to Ace. What else is there? Is there a girl you like? The Providers sure don’t like any of that.
Yeah, Jonathan answered. You know the redhead on the screencasts?
Ace laughed. Yeah, he said. Yeah, I do. She’s pretty cute, huh? Yeah , Jonathan said. She is.
Think about her, then.
Am I—am I allowed to do that?
As far as I’m concerned, kid, you’re ‘allowed’ to do anything you want. Jonathan pictured the girl’s face in his mind: the pale-green eyes, the short, red hair, and the curves he thought he could make out even beneath the grey robes Regulations said she had to wear, just as he did. He was amazed to realize that the harder he held to the forbidden thoughts in his mind, the softer the hum of the neuronet sounded until, finally, it was gone. His mind was completely still for the first time in seventeen years. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again. He let his mind settle, and the familiar hum of the Net returned inside his head, which ached a little with the effort of the shielding.
Thanks, Ace, Jonathan told him. That’s gonna take some time, but it’s a beginning.
Everything takes time, Ace said. Just keep trying. I’ll be here if you need me. The evening arrived, and Jonathan felt discomfort brewing in the small apartment like grey clouds gathering where no storm could yet be seen. His parents seemed both furious and frightened at once.Theyspoke to each otherin whispers they thought he couldn’t hear, words of revenge for what the screencrews were starting to call the ‘killer youths’ responsible for the deaths of the ‘heroic citizens.’ Jonathan feared the storm’s beginning, and he couldn’t imagine where it would end.
* * * * For the first time in a long while, Emil
y was glad to have their voices in her head in place of the panic and fear filling her own thoughts.
Those people who got killed— she could see their bodies as clearly as if she’d been there herself, courtesy of the interface that fed her the screencast news she reported—they could have been my parents. They could have been anyone.
The sight of the citizen patrols made her feel just a bit more secure instead of making her feel like she was in danger of being arrested as a traitor. Emily tracked the distance to her housing block as if its length were a tether holding her back from a plunge into depth and darkness. At last she saw it: the single light from her room, the one her parents always left shining for her to light her way home.
Safe, she thought. I’m safe for now, at least.
* * * *
The Black City seethed.
Beneath the façade of the citizens’ faces, righteous fury burned, and in the early evening, the twilight seemed to speak with many voices: “Kill them for the Providers’ sakes!” “Kill them for the City!” “For the lives of our children!”
The grey masses gathered in the City’s streets, thousands of cells in one body, intent on the elimination of disease. Jonathan was scared. His parents never worked late, but they’d been gone the entire day, and the only lights now shone from the posts lining the perimeter of his family’s housing block like a bright barrier against imagined threats from the world outside. No matter what he did, how many breaths he took or tricks he tried, his mind would not be still. Had they been attacked by another of Ace’s people? Had another of the rebels ‘gone crazy’ and decided to go on a dome-hunting spree?
His stomach was churning, his mouth as parched as cracked concrete. His hands began to shake as the glass wall sprang to life, and the young newsperson’s green eyes seemed to stare into his own.
“Good evening, citizens! The young rebel who called himself ‘Ace’ is dead tonight, signaling what may be the end of the recent ordeal.”
Ace. Dead. Jonathan covered his ears, wanting to shut out the newsperson’s voice, wanting to shout to her to come to her senses, but he was too sick to do so.
Ace. Dead. How could he be? Ace was too smart, too slick to get killed. He could time a bombing so no one would get hurt. Why couldn’t he keep himself from getting killed?
Guess no one’s that smart. Not even Ace.
The newsperson’s voice droned on, choking him like a cloud of smoke. Shut up, he thought at the girl on the screen, hoping vainly that, as Ace had, she might hear him. No luck. Where are my parents?
Suddenly, a signal came from across the Net into his mind. His parents. He felt weak with relief at the sound of their voices, but that quickly faded as sound gave way to substance.
I’m sorry we’re out so late , his father said. There was a meeting. They’re worried about the rebels. They think there might be retaliation for the death of the terrorist leader—the one called Ace. Jonathan didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. He knew his father meant the Providers. Jonathan’s anger rose at the way his father had spat out Ace’s name.
What do they want us to do? Jonathan asked. They want us to find out where the rebels are. Some of us— like your mother and I—have research skills and scientific knowledge they can use. We’re going to have to move for a little while, son. They want all of us on the research team in one place, so they can make sure we’re safe.
Dad? What are they going to do when they find out where the rebels are?
Don’t worry about that, son. Get packing. Your mother and I will be home in an hour. We have to relocate tonight. * * * * Relocate. Tonight. His father’s voice was gone, but its echo still hummed in Jonathan’s mind. Relocation sounded bad enough, but even worse was his father’s replywhen Jonathan asked about the rebels’ fate.
Don’t worry about that, son. The matter-of-fact way he’d said it sickened Jonathan. He made a decision: I have to get out. It had to be now, before his parents got home. There was no time to wait. In less than an hour, they’d be back. He went into his room, got his backpack down from the closet, and packed it with enough fresh clothes for several days.
Hopefully, I’ll be in the Forgotten City by then. He went into the kitchen and packed some food, filled several bottles with water. It should be enough. With any luck. He started toward the front door, then stopped. I can’t just go—not without telling them something, at least. He took a sheet of paper from a drawer in the kitchen and wrote:
Dear Mom and Dad, I can’t stay here anymore. It’s not safe for me. It’s not safe for you, either, but I know you can’t see that. Maybe someday you will. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be safe, and I’ll be free. I’ll come back when, and if, I can.
He signed his name and left the note on the kitchen table, where he knew his parents would see it.
No more time. Got to go. The family’s hovercycle was parked outside the residence block where they lived. It was seldom used. For the most part, his mother and father took the City’s mass transit system into the Govsec to work. He hated to take the cycle, but without it, he wouldn’t stand a chance of getting where he needed to go.
I’m sorry, he thought, climbing onto the cycle. But I have to do this. The hovercycle rose into the air at the touch of a button, and there was a rumble as a jet of flame burst from behind. Moments later, Jonathan left the only home he had ever known in a cloud of speed and smoke.
CHAPTER THREE
Jonathan had never been so far into the Citybefore, and after what happened to Ace, his stomach was as tight as his whiteknuckled grip on the cycle’s handlebars. The Citywas much larger than he everimagined. Heguessed he’d been traveling more than a couple of hours, and only when he caught sight of vast, black spires on the horizon did the hovercycle’s routing system tell him he was in Govsec. The streets were narrower than in the residential sector where his family lived, and Jonathan found himself weaving in and out of the crowds of people still milling about, although it was early evening.
It must be that meeting Mom and Dad were going to. Surely it’d be over by now, though. He felt a flash of panic at the thought that his parents might still be here somewhere. They couldn’t see him. They just couldn’t. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself, trying to sound as much like Ace in his mind as he could. Your parents could never find you in all of these people. They wouldn’t even know where to start looking.
They could contact him on the neuronet, but they couldn’t trace the signal. It could be years before he saw them again. There was a finality to the thought that both comforted and saddened him. I hope I don’t regret this.
Although they’d never have done it, I hope one day they’ll understand why I had to. Then, all at once, he no longer had time to think.
“Attention! Turn around immediately!”
From behind him, Jonathan heard the sound of another cycle’s generator. If he’s close enough to connect with my com, he’s too close. Jonathan pressed his accelerator button and steered upward. The other cycle was still fifty feet behind him, and there was a mass of people between the two of them. I should be able to lose him.
As his cycle climbed, a voice in Jonathan’s head kept insisting, Attention, citizen! You are headed for the Deserted Sector. This course is forbidden by order of the Providers. Turn back immediately!
Apparently, whoever was on his trail didn’t think his com was effective enough. The next words were so loud they made Jonathan’s skull ache. TURN AROUND NOW.
Can’t do that, he thought, knowing the other rider probably heard. Jonathan’s cycle was burninga fire-arc directlyabove the Black City, the crowds of citizens below onlya greyhaze to his sight. He switched the cycle’s viewscreen on to see if he was still being followed. Nothing there—no—wait—there is something—just a speck, but—
All at once, it was there, another cycle, its markings just different enough to distinguish it from the one that had been following him. His com crackled to life again. Well, at least you’re staying out of my head for now.
“Attention, citizen. You are dangerously close to the Deserted Sector! Turn around!”
The one I ditched back there must have put him on my trail, Jonathan thought.
“Please!” the voice on the com implored again. “Stop! For your own safety!” Jonathan laughed. If he stopped, what he’d find waiting for him would have very little to do with his safety. Moments later, the sound of a blast behind him told Jonathan his pursuer had given up on diplomacy.
“Safety, eh?” Jonathan murmured to himself. “Lucky for you, you’re a lousy shot. If this is what you want, you got it.” Heturned the cycle back in the direction from which he’d come. He could see the other cycle behind him on his viewscreen.
I’m surprised he’s not screaming in my head yet. Then he remembered his father telling him that some people couldn’t access the Net without electrodes, even though they weren’t supposed to be required. Lucky me. They were diving down together, the pursuing cycle a mere span of yards behind him.
He’s following pretty close. Theywere still in open sky, well awayfrom the skyscrapers of Govsec, but the buildings were getting closer every second. The distance between the two cycles was closing fast, too.
I hope I can pull this off. Jonathan waited until they were in sight of the Towers that were the landmark of Govsec. They were surrounded on all sides byother black glass buildings, manyof them miniature reflections of the grand towers themselves. It would be harder for the other cycle, slightly larger than the one Jonathan was riding, to maneuver there. That was what he was counting on. A few more minutes, a few more miles, and his theory would be put to the test.
Jonathan looked down at the viewscreen. He’s almost on me. He took the cycle straight up, then checked again. Lost him. Turning around, he sped away from the City as fast as he could go. He didn’t look back again until the lights of Govsec lay far behind him.
* * * * Jonathan couldn’t tell whether the chill he felt was due to the night air or the enormity of what he’d done. Every muscle and bone of his body, his legs, arms and back ached from hours at the cycle’s console. Once his pursuer had given up on him, he’d headed west, as far from Govsec as he could get. Jonathan didn’t know what the patrol officer had meant by ‘dangerously close’ to the Deserted Sector.