by Clay Gilbert
“What do you think, man?” Brain asked Eternity in a whisper. “I don’t know.”
Outside, there were shouts of suggestions from the crowd.
“Shadow!” cried one streetrider. “Shadow should be leader! He was Ace’s right hand. He knows the ways!” Sentinel looked behind him and beckoned forShadow to join him on the balcony. Eternity and Brain made their way, together, to the window to watch.
Shadow stood on the balcony, his hands shaking. He looked behind him at his friends, then stepped to the edge of the balcony, and for a moment, Eternity had a wild thought that he might jump. Instead, though, he spoke to the crowd.
“You don’t want me,” he said.
The crowd quieted, but here and there a few shouts of protest were heard. “Really, you don’t,” Shadow said. “I was never Ace’s right hand. Or if I was, I never felt it. I was his Shadow. Now he’s gone, and I can’t be that anymore. If I was leader, you wouldn’t see me. You’d see Ace. Ace is dead. We have to move on. It can’t be me.”
“Who, then?” came the ritual question again from Sentinel. “Who will stand in Ace’s place, the place of leadership for us all?”
“Brain!” someone shouted, then one voice, then many, picked up the cry. “Brain the technician! We’ll blast those Providers so far—”
Brain spoke then, his voice calmer than Shadow’s had been. He didn’t have the past that Shadow did to hold him from assuming leadership, and yet he knew he could no more accept it than Shadow had. There was something else holding him back—something he remembered from the talk he had with Eternity in the Cortex Vortex on the day they first met. Something about the Providers—some strange fear. What if they are gods? What if they’re so powerful they can just make us disappear? I don’t believe that, not really, but what if …
“… And that’s why I can’t be leader,” he finished. As he stepped back off the balcony, he leaned close to Eternity. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as if in apology for his fear.
Eternity nodded, placing his hand on Brain’s shoulder. “It’s all right, man. It’s okay.” “Aw, come on!” an angryvoiceshouted from the street. “Are we gonna let them run us down? Doesn’t anyone have the guts to—”
“Do you?” Eternity’s questioning voice was not, perhaps, as loud as the outburst from below had been, but it startled and silenced the crowd nonetheless. Sentinel eyed Eternity in surprise, and he stood up, a little unsure at first, then, seeing all the eyes upon him—streetrider and Oldtimer alike—his voice grew more confident. “Isaid, do you? Do you have the guts to stand up to them? Probably not. I don’t know, but what Ido know is that Brain and Shadow arefriends of mine, and they know just as much about the Providers as any of us do. You can say you’re not afraid, but are you willing to prove it?”
No answer came at first. Then Sentinel, in his rich, deep voice asked, “Are you, Eternity?” Sentinel found himself frightened by the boy’s words, and reminded of his own cowardice where the Providers were concerned. “Will you be our leader, Eternity?”
“Eternity! Eternity!” First one streetrider—perhaps even Brain or Shadow, but he couldn’t tell—then others took up the chant, until even some of the Oldtimers joined in.
Me? Thought Eternity. I’m only seventeen. That was Ace’s age when he became leader of the Forgotten City, a voice inside him reminded. But I’m not Ace! I can’t—I can’t. He searched his mind for some way to refuse. I hardly know this place—I haven’t been here that long. Neither had Ace, the voice inside his mind insisted. But I’m not Ace. I’m me. I never wanted to be leader. I never wanted this. I only wanted to be myself. I only wanted to be free.
That was what Ace wanted, too, though, and maybe Ace hadn’t set out to lead everyone, either. Maybe he had just seen that his friends needed him, and done what needed to get done.
“Are you scared, man?” Now the voice inside his head was one he recognized, so clear and real he almost turned to look behind him, but it was Ace’s voice, and Ace was dead, the words just a ghostly echo inside Eternity’s frightened mind.
Ace, man. If you only knew. Yeah, I am. Remember, man, Eternity heard Ace telling him, as surely as if he were still alive, you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.
Eternity nodded to himself. The words were still true. Now the eyes of everyone in the room, and everyone in the crowd outside were fixed on him.
“So, Eternity,” Sentinel said again. “The choice is up to you. Will you lead us?”
The last long silence before Eternity replied carried, for him, the feeling of seventeen years falling awayin one instant and three simple words: “Yes, I will.”
Book two
Dividing line CHAPTER TEN
“Good evening, Citizens! The murder of a girl in Busisec nearly a month ago is still unsolved, although Govsec sources state they suspect a connection with the actions of rebel factions in the City. The rebels themselves remain in hiding, their actions having shown relative restraint since the death of their leader, the one called Ace. The Providers willing, there will be no further violence...”
It was a holy act, thought Isaac. “I did it for you!” he cried to the black Towers over the City, addressing the unseen gods somewhere within them. His search still continued. His quest to locate the infidels’ nest remained unfulfilled. He’d combed the city from sector to sector, even entertaining in desperation the notion that the rebels might be encamped in the sacred shadow of the Towers themselves—in the very midst of Govsec. If this was so, they had hidden well, for again, he’d found nothing.
Where are they hiding? One thing was sure: they wouldn’t be able to hide if every eye in the City was on them. The rebels are making us afraid of them and afraid of ourselves. We have to stand up, now. We have to be the eyes of our gods. Maybe what the City’s people need is an example.
* * * * They say ‘no further violence,’ Jacob thought, sitting alone as he often did these nights, long into the late hours after his wife had already retired. Always they say, but ever since that girl was killed, this City has lived in fanaticism and fear.
Hethought of theTowersand of the shadowygods who were said to inhabit them. Are They afraid? The rebels have been quiet—no raids. Not since the newsperson died. He remembered how the City’s screencasts held up the girl’s death, how they tried to make her into some kind of martyr. It seemed transparent. What was one person to them, that they should make this one girl a symbol?
Innocent citizen. Their term. Enemy of the people. That’s what they’d said about her killer. He was someone’s enemy, which was for sure, but whose? What he did was wrong, but why did he do it? Was he the Providers’ agent? Not likely. A rebel, then? Likely, but unprovable. But proof wasn’t the issue. A girl was dead, and for once, the situation occurred in a way that wasn’t clear-cut. No one seen, no one caught, and now the City lived in fear once more. Sometimes, it seemed to Jacob, the City ran on fear—its own dark engine, as powerful as the Great Engine that sustained the City. But this time it might not be a fear they could control.
This death—the undeniable death, not just disappearance, of a newsperson, someone whom many in the City respected and even loved as a communicator of the Providers’ will— raised questions, at least in his mind. The rebels were leaderless, and although everyone believed they could and even would kill, no one had seen it. In all of the raids, no one had died. He believed that. Now, someone had, and her killer, while not clearly working against the Providers, had killed someone close to them. Here was someone who could, quite possibly, be beyond their control. That notion was terrifying. So far, no one was asking questions—not publicly, at least—but how long, Jonathan’s father wondered, would it be before they did?
* * * *
“They’re blaming us, man. They’re blaming us!”
Brain pounded his fist on the table at which he, Eternity, and Shadow were seated in a chamber high in the Leader’s Hall on Crown Avenue—the very room, in fact, that had been host to the meeting t
hat made Eternity the leader of the Forgotten City.
“I know, man. I know.” Eternity’s voice was soft, almost unnaturally calm. Inside, though, he felt seized by a storm. They had been blamed, it was true. Those who openly rebelled against the Providers were always blamed, but they weren’t responsible. Shadow had been the first to know about the murder—it was the girl’s death that caused Eternity to become leader in the first place, after all—a fact that still filled him with sadness.
“They’vegot no proof, Shadow. It’s just another wayto keep everyone down.” “It could help us,” Shadow said.
“How?”
“If people start questioning, if they start wondering why there wasn’t a whole gang… And nobody’s hearing the whole story! ‘Rebels die,’ man, that’s what it said on the wall! If people knew that, how could they think it was us?” The footage from the security cam in the studio still played in a loop on the vidscreen monitor above the table in the Council Room, showing a shadow behind the girl, a shadow that lengthened into a grey-robed arm and a hand that pressed a lasgun barrel against the newsperson’s neck.
“Tell me where they’re hiding,” the unseen assailant’s voice said. Eternityrecognized it; theyall did. It was Isaac. They’d seen his image and heard his voice enough times now from the screencast footage they’d monitored from the City’s feeds.
“I don’t know,” the newsperson said, her voice shuddering into sobs. In another moment, she slumped in her chair, and then, there was the flame-light from the lasgun beam as it left the words etched on the wall.
“Turn it off, man. Idon’t want to think about that girl’s death helpinganything,”Eternitysaid. “If Icould bringher back— ”
“I know you would, but you’re leader here, now, and you’re responsible for us. People look up to you, man.” Eternity thought of the Oldtimers—their wise, ancient faces—and the streetriders. My people, hereminded himself. Whatever he had been, he was a streetrider now, and of the Forgotten City. And now all his people were depending on him. Shadow was right.
“Okay, it’s true, but what do they expect me to do, just rage in there with a gang of ‘riders on cycles and tear down the Towers?”
Shadow smiled—only the merest of smiles. “Yeah. Some of them do. Some of the streetriders out there wonder why we don’t just grease ‘em all. ‘Kill ‘em all! Kill all the dirty domes.’ Heavy stuff, I know, man, but that’s streetrider sentiment in the Forgotten City.” He pronounced the last with the melodrama of a newsperson’s exaggerated diction. “The domes aren’t the only ones with a reaction to that girl getting killed.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Eternity said. “Look, Shadow, Brain, could you guys kinda … kinda just go, and leave me alone for a while? I gotta think.”
“Sure, man,” Shadow said, clasping Eternity’s hand in a gesture of solidarity. “You OK?” “I think I’m going to be,” Eternity replied. He took the microdrive out of the monitor they’d been watching, and laid it on the table in front of him “I’ll put this somewhere safe. We may need it before all this is over. Go on, guys,” he said, looking at his friends’ still-concerned faces. “I’ll be fine.” “The words carried more confidence than he felt, but reality, she knew, often started with belief—right now, they all needed that.
“Later, man,” Brain said with a smile, clapping Eternity on the shoulder as he followed Brain out of the room. “Take it easy. We’re here if you need us.”
“I know.” But he also knew no one could make this decision but himself. The girl was dead. This guy—this fanatic named Isaac—had done it, and the people of the City had no idea. But would it help the rebellion if they did? Or would things just get more out of control?
Rebels die, the lasgun-welded words said. Eternity believed Shadow’s account of what he saw. That girl wasn’t a rebel, Eternity thought, and if she’d thought about being one, she hadn’t done anything about it. He could see that in her eyes, even in a picture on a screen.
Why had Isaac been so sure she was? Or was he just looking for an answer anywhere he could find it, and angry when he didn’t get one? Why did that girl have to die?
The only real ‘why’ here is why I’m questioning all this now, when my people are out for blood. But I know why—it’s because I don’t know what else to do. Oh, God—I can’t take this. I’m getting out. Not for good, not for keeps. Just a ride. A ride’ll do me good. At least then I’ll be able to think.
The night was cold. It felt good. Taking the hovercycle as high and as fast as he could through the Forgotten City, climbing skyward above the lights of Crown Avenue, Eternity felt free—a feeling he hadn’t had since assuming the leadership of the Forgotten City. The people all looking up to him, Oldtimers and streetriders alike. It all felt so strange. Even Shadow, his best friend, and Brain—even these closest two, who were almost like brothers to him, and who had seemed so worldly when he first came to the city— they looked to him, too, for a guidance he was often unsure he knew how to provide.
The air streaming by his face stung his eyes. I’m no god. I’m barely more than a kid. I don’t feel like a leader. Don’t feel right enough, good enough. I’m not sure I can even feel enough for all of us. Did you ever doubt, Ace? Did you?
But he had to make a move. They were waiting back there. Waiting for the word. I’m not Ace, and I’m not gonna do things his way. No more raids. At least, no more without a cause. We won’t give them even the appearance of violence. Won’t let them have a tool to use against us. They—the Providers, whoever they are— they want the domes to think we’re the bad guys. They don’t want anyone to see it’s really them doing the killing. Them using fear to keep the people down. And because they call themselves gods—because there’s no proof that they’re not—nothing but the unspoken fact that gods didn’t kill to keep people down—people just go on blindly believing, and doing what they’re told they should. I don’t blame them. It’s what most people do—just stay out of the way and hope trouble passes by if they do what they’re told. So we’ll watch, and we’ll wait. What did I come here for, after all? To fight? To kill? No. To get away from all of that. I came here to change my life. To rebel, yeah, if you want to call it that. But not to kill. Killing won’t change anything.
But in the Forgotten City, did they still have anything left to rebel against?
Of course, he thought. After all, what were they fighting for—the length of their hair, the way they were allowed to dress? No. That’s not it. That’s not really it at all. That was only an emblem, a symbol of the real fight. The freedom not to have them tell us what we can do, what we can be. You can tell a dome or a streetrider by the look in their eyes. The clothes, hair, even what we call ourselves—none of that matters by itself. That feeling—that freedom feeling—that’s what’s important. It’s deeper than the skin, deeper than clothes, deeper than a name. And if you’ve got it, then nothing else matters a damn. And if we let them take it away from other people, then neither do we.
Eternity thought of the Black City, and saw in his mind the black, glass needles piercing the night sky, the electric flash of red and yellow electric eyes, the grey-white scrawl-trails of skycars jetting across the cityscape from station to station, and the shuffling columns of speechless grey dome-drones in the streets. He saw the City in that moment as a great, black shadow of repression, devoid of expression, freedom, any real light or love. Were there, he wondered, any more closet rebels out there, like he had been, any more people— for the domes were people, a people he’d once belonged to, at least in name—who longed to disobey, who stared in disbelief at the cold Regulations of their Cityand whispered, within themselves, just one treasonous word: No.
There have to be, he thought. Just as scared and as powerless as he had been, facing the same risk, the same choice. They’ve got to make up their own minds, he thought. They’ve got to ask themselves like I did: is it worth it? I’m not going to be a god. I’m not going to declare that no one follows the Providers ju
st because I think it’s wrong. If they choose us, then they’ve made their choice. But if they choose them, I won’t stop it. There has to be a choice. Without choice—even the choice to choose something I don’t want or like— there can’t be freedom. Either way, everyone’s got to be ready to back themselves up, and we’ll be ready.
* * * *
“We’ll do what?”
Shadow’s last word was almost a shout. The rainbow-haired teenager sat, along with Brain, on one side of the table in Eternity’s meeting chamber in the Leader’s Hall.
“We’ll wait,” Eternity repeated, his voice just as steady as the first time he’d said it. “Look, man. I’m not going to do thingsthe wayAce wouldhave done them just because that’s the waytheywere done before. Ace was a fighter, and I’m— ”
“And you’re what? A lover?” Shadow almost spat the word. “You wanna love the domes to our side?” Eternity shook his head, and laughed. “That’s not what I’m sayin’, man. Not exactly. I just—” Something gave way inside Eternity’s mind. I don’t have to apologize. What’s so wrong with love, anyway? His face was stern and serious when he looked back at Shadow, straight in his eyes. “Look, man. There’s gotta be another way, and we’re going to find it. I’m leader here. You chose. You all chose. If you want to lead, if you want meto step down oreven leavetown—fine.” “No, man, no.” The answer came from both Brain and Shadow at once.
“Alright. Then we do things my way. We wait.”
The other two streetriders left the chamber without another word to Eternity or even another look in his direction. * * * *
What am I doing?
Eternity sat alone at the meeting-table. He hadn’t bothered to move since Shadow and Brain left, nearly an hour before. Just six months ago, he thought, he’d been just another dome, with big ideas but no way to carry them out. A closet rebel. This had all been glamorous—or seemed that way from his vantagepoint in the Black City, back when Ace was in control.