by Clay Gilbert
After some of the gizmos in the screencast studio, the skycar was nothing.
Piece of cake—fait accompli, as the Oldfrench langdocs would have said, though that phrase, like the langdocs and other teachers, were just relics now.
There was only one language now, one big scrap of talk, a quilt of words patchwork-woven and filled with the faded colors of lives lived and lost in countries that didn’t even exist anymore. Words were the same everywhere, now, and in the City, the Providers liked to be given credit for that, whether it was due to them or not.
REDIRECT? The letters blinked on the console in a particularly annoying shade of synthblue. CONFIRMED, she typed. NEW COURSE REQUESTED. The plan was ready now. WEST FROM CENTRAL, she typed.
All of the skycars in the Cityhad an internal map of the City. ‘West at Central’ would direct the skycar to function as it would on a course proceeding directly west from Central Sector. It knew the course and could take it up from any part of the City: a course toward Western Sector, Western Residential, and the Wall.
The exhilaration she always felt on her skycar rides across the City was back, but this time, it carried with it more than a simple thrill. There was a current of purpose beneath the feeling now that hadn’t been there before.
Slow. Too slow! She grew frustrated at the speed at which the skycar traveled. Now that I’ve got the will, I want to do what I came to do, and just leave, go where there aren’t any rebels and no vengeful deities of disappearance. Beyond.
Her impatience made the scene around her seem to slow the way the footage on a screencast sometimes did. Her training had taught her the technique was meant to draw attention to the object ofthe camera’sfocus, but nowall it made herwant to do was rush through the world, through the night, and through her own life until she reached her own object of focus: the one called Eternity.
She was so gripped by the tension within her that she was shocked when she saw the Wall rising before her, like a great, grey iceberg, an incarnation of all the legends the people in the City and whoever lived beyond it had built up around it. She could almost feel the vibration of myth emanating from it like some kind of homing beacon, and it both frightened and thrilled her.
This is where they have to be, just beyond this wall, where most of the City’s people wouldn’t dare go, or think of going, because they were scared of the Wall itself or the Deserted Sector beyond it. I’m not afraid, though. And with the innocence and passion of one who was barely more than a child, she made herself believe it.
I’m here. I’m finally here. Upon negotiating the height of the Wall with the skycar— larger and bulkier than a hovercycle would have been—she was puzzled bywhatshe found on the other side. Just beyond the Wall’s concrete barrier lay a large grouping of ancient buildings (they looked ancient, anyway, she thought) made of wood and glass, with onlya reinforcing beam of steel now and then. Then she saw yet another mystery.
Surely not, she told herself. Got to be hallucinating. Rising in the distance, as she traveled farther into what she knew now had to be the rebel outpost, she saw the shining lights and great glass towers of a city not as large as the Providers’ own, but seeming even larger for the sheer improbability of its existence. Fire and neon scorched her eyes as she set the skycar down just on the outskirts of the larger development.
The car’s automated doors slid open, and its two landinglegs extended, making it look like a mechanical insect foraging the wrecked landscape of the Deserted Sector for prey.
The girl stepped to the console and gave the skycar her final instructions: RETURN TO LANDING STATION, CENTRAL FROM WEST.
Mission accomplished—so far , she told herself as she watched the empty skycar gliding back toward a stillsleeping City. She started along the stretch of pavement leading from the ancient settlement, watchingit widen as she walked until, finally, she came to a place where the road split, branching in different directions, toward distant destinations in this unlikely place. Sprouting like a steel tree from the point where the road diverged, a signpost rose, and Emily couldn’t help drawing a breath in amazement as she read its words: CROWN AVENUE.
* * * *
Mid-day.
Shadow sat in the back room of Cortex Vortex, talking with Brain. “Yeah, man,” Shadow was saying, “his parents are living with the Oldtimers now, and now that they’re gone, there’s word on the streets that Eternity might be in danger. You heard anything?”
“No, man,” Brain said. “No news. I watch everyone who comes in here. Most ‘riders who come in here are concerned about him, and after the meeting, hell, everyone’s behind Eternity.”
The glass door was slightly ajar, and beyond it the girl hid, listening. “You should see the people outside the Leaders’ Hall now. There’s always people,” Shadow said. “If they want Eternity, the domes are gonna have to go through us to get to him.”
The Leaders’ Hall. So, Emily thought that was what they called that big building at the end of Crown Avenue. That’s where the key had come from. It belongs to him. Perfect.
* * * *
“What’s wrong, Eternity?”
Eternity’s pallor begged the question, the burnt gold of his hair making the sudden contrast all the more apparent. He sat at the table in his chambers, staring into the air as if he were seeing one of the Prophet’s visions.
“You should see yourself, man,” Shadow said. “You look terrible. Have you been sleeping at all?” Easy things to say, Shadow knew—but Eternity looked as though he hadn’t slept for a week or more.
“I’m scared, man,” Eternity said. “Scared we’re going to war. More and more, I’ve been having the dream about the Prophet, and the vision he had. ‘War between the Two-inOne,’ remember?”
Shadow nodded. “Like I could forget. Look, man, don’t listen to him. Dream-drugs he doses with have probably eaten half his brain by now. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I think it does,” Eternity said. “There’s more to him than you’re giving credit for. I think he’d still have the visions even without the dream-drugs. I think this is supposed to happen, somehow. But I don’t want it. Look at those people out there.” Eternity pointed out the window at the assemblage of streetriders gathered outside the hall. “They’re always there, just like the domes outside the Towers. I can’t tell the difference sometimes.”
Shadow grinned. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They’re worried about you. You’re their leader. And they’ve heard about the Prophet’s visions. Hewas a streetrider once, before the dream-drugs. He’s still got his friends. Everyone’s just as scared of the vision as you are.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But it seems to me like some of them want it. Like some of them want a good reminder of the old days of fire with Ace. And everybody out there doesn’t have to deal with it—not for all of us.”
“That’s true. Look, you want me to crash here tonight? You look like you could use a little company.”
Eternity shook his head. “No. What Ineed is sleep. Anyway, like you said, I’m the leader. I’ve got to deal with it. Take care, man.”
“You, too.” It seemed to Eternity that every stability he’d grasped at since Ace’s death—first as a citizen of the Forgotten City, then as its leader—had faded away.
Why don’t I just take off? Just let one of the others have the job. Let Sentinel have it. He’d do better than me, anyway. I can’t handle them.
But he knew it was a lie. He had to deal with Them, had to defeat them. Ace hadn’t been able to, even though he’d tried. Just maybe, fire and razor-edged cool wasn’t what it took to beat them. Did the Prophet know? Was that part of the vision, part of the uncertain future he had been unable to foresee?
Ace was predictable, in a way. Maybe I’m the wild card. But what part of me is that strong?
* * * * Emily watched the building from among the crowd gathered outside—watched until she was the only one left. Satisfied that their leader wouldn’t be harmed for another night, they’d gone the
ir way.
The key gleamed, a cold star shining in her hand. He would be asleep now. It’d be easy. A mirror image of her parents’ deaths, except forthe madglaze of fearover open, dead eyes. Fear flashed through her, but she shoved it down.
He killed them. He’s an enemy of the people. They never kill people sleeping in their beds. They never kill innocents. Only his people do that.
Once she made her way inside, the rest was easy. The elevator panel had a security clearance built in, but her training made it easy to hack.
Someone’s using an old system, but then, who around here would have a key they weren’t supposed to have? She smiled to herself.
She spotted the door soon after stepping off the elevator. Taking a deep and shuddering breath, she fitted the key in the lock and slowly pushed the door open.
No noise, she told herself.
Dammit, Eternity thought. Why can’t I sleep? I’m gonna be no good to anyone if I’m a freaking zombie. A clicking noise made him sit straight up—a sound so small that someone who hadn’t spent night after night memorizing the sound of every shift and creak in the Hall might have missed.
He started from the bed, threw on his clothes and grabbed his lasgunfrom its customaryresting place onhis nightstand. The hall outside his bedroom was dark, but he heard footsteps as faint but distinct as the sound outside the door had been. He heard them again, still muffled—
Then all at once, they were crystal clear. Eternity sucked in a breath of fire as he felt pain flare in his back, and spun around, firing in reflex to defend against another attack. He was surprised to see a girl on the floor, the gun she’d used against him lying to one side while she clutched her leg in pain. But he was shocked when he realized who she was.
Her auburn hair was longer now, almost shoulder-length, but her eyes revealed her identity: this was the newsperson who’d so suddenly vanished from the screencasts, the one he’d watched when he still called the Black City his home.
There were tears in the sea-green eyes—the same ones Eternity remembered so clearly from the screencasts—but she didn’t make a sound, just fixed an angry look on him. She didn’t fight, though, when he put out his hand to help her up. She could hardly stand, it seemed, and he had to halfcarry her, leaning against him the whole way, into the small alternate bedroom, where his parents had only just recently slept.
“Lie back,” he told her, when he’d helped her across the room to the bed. “I’m sure that wound still burns.” “I’m fine,” she said, but the expression on her face said otherwise. She stayed sitting up, though. I’m not going to show him how much it hurts. Why didn’t he kill me? Who is he, anyway?
He couldn’t be that much older than she was, and he was in charge of this whole place. And what about his name— Eternity? What was that all about? Who gave him the right? And what gave him the right to go against Them?
“You used to be on the screencasts,” Eternity said, sitting down at the foot of the bed and looking sideways at her. “What happened to you?”
You happened to me. And to my family. You and your people got them killed because you can’t leave things alone. But she didn’t say anything.
“All right. Have it your way. I’ll be back in the morning, and we’ll talk about this some more then. There’s a bathroom through there,” he pointed, “if you need it. There’s awindow in there, but I wouldn’t try climbing out. It’s a long fall.”
Emilyglared at him, still saying nothing. Inanother moment, he was gone. She heard the door lock from the other side, and she was alone with the darkness and her questions. After what seemed like forever, her mind stopped screaming at her, and she fell into fitful sleep.
* * * * When Emily heard the knocking at her door the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was and realize she wasn’t dreaming.
“Come in already, if you want,” she said. “You will anyway. You’re the one with the key.” Eternity opened the door slowly, bracing himself in case she tried anything. But she was just lying there, looking like she’d spent half of the night crying and half of it half asleep. And there was something else in her eyes—something that made him feel ashamed.
“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he told her. “I’m not going to hurt you—no matter what you were trying to do— but Iwant to know why.” She could still kill,Eternitysensed, given the chance, but staying calm was a better option for now.
There were tears in her eyes, but she didn’t make a sound, or move to wipe them away. “My parents are dead.” “What’s that got to do with me?” “ You did it.” Her voice was an exasperated whisper, the tone she might have used to a younger sibling who should really know better. “You and your people. Because they were— were domes.” She spat out the words. “I know what you call us.”
Eternity felt shock and shame at her use of the word. “We didn’t kill them. I swear we didn’t.”
“Then who did?” Maybe he’s telling the truth. But I’m not going to just believe him without some reason. “Look where you are. Think about what you tried to do. If I’d killed your parents, or if I’d given the order for them to be killed, do you think you’d still be alive, right now?”
Emily thought for a moment. “I guess not.” “Good guess. Why don’t you finish telling me about yourself. Starting with your name.”
“It’s Emily. I guess you know I used to work at the Studio in Busisec. I started there when I was thirteen. I was the youngest newsperson. I got picked after Itook some aptitude tests. I scored pretty high, I guess, on the tech and verbal parts. My parents were so proud. They felt like the Providers had given me a special calling. Idon’t think being a girl hurt, either. I think they think we come across more honest than guys, no offense—”
Eternity smiled for the first time since he’d heard the clicking outside the door. “None taken.” “Anyway,” she went on, “I think my age helped, too. I guess they wanted someone innocent, someone who’d speak their word because she had no reason to question it. But it’s all the neuronet, anyway. Once theystart feeding the words into your head, it’s hard to do anything but say what they tell you.”
“That must’ve been awful,” Eternity said, reaching out to touch her arm. Emily flinched at the unexpected contact, and moved a couple of inches back from him. But, after a moment, she met his eyes with hers, and nodded.
“It should’ve been, but the truth is, it flattered me at first. There wasn’t exactly a lot for someone my age to do, since most people in the City don’t work before they’re eighteen. I didn’t seriously start to question until I was fourteen, but by then, I was too taken with the job and the honor I thought I was getting to listen to myself. What could I have done to stop it, anyway? It’s not like I could just say no.
“The next year, just after my fifteenth birthday, we in the Busisec started hearing about the raids, reading the reports, and then speaking about them on the screencasts, I started thinking about the rebels more and more. Were they real? And were they as bad as the Providers wanted us to think? Theydon’t want usto think about muchofanything, it seems to me N.ot unless it has to do with them. I was so messed up back then. I guess I still am, but there was so much I wanted to know about that the neuronet gave me no clue to. I was having all these weird feelings, too, in my body, and no one told me much about what they were, or what they were for. No one has kids in the City unless the Providers want them to, so I guess they think we don’t need to know what our bodies are supposed to do, either. You know what I mean?”
Eternity nodded, a little embarrassed. “You know, I used to watch you on the screencasts. Imean, Iwatched all the ‘casts with Mom and Dad, but when it was you, I really noticed.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. It always seemed like you didn’t much like what was happening.” “I didn’t. I didn’t believe the Providers a hundred percent, but I thought Ace seemed like a pretty bad guy. I remember seeing some vids of him after one of the raids. He scared me a little. All tha
t leather, and hair, and the look in his eyes—” She looked at Eternity for a moment, and realized that there was some of the same look in this boy’s eyes, but yet, there was something more, too.
“Ace was a good guy. I’ll tell you about him sometime. We all have a lot to thank him for. But go on.”
“Then the detainments started. I remember being really scared once the Citizen Patrols started, but not so much of the rebels. I remember being really scared that They might know I was having doubts about them, and other thoughts they probably didn’t want me having, too.” She stopped, lowering her voice. “Are you sure they don’t listen here? No tracers or anything?”
Eternity shook his head. “We’re clean here. We’ve looked.” He felt a rush of excitement run through him. She’s so much like me. Just like I hoped she was.
“I was almost sixteen—I’m sixteen now—when my parents got killed. I just came home one night and found them. I made myself think your people did it. I made myself hate them, and I made myself hate you. I just couldn’t let myself think they’d been killed because they’d questioned—or because I did.”
She didn’t try to hold back the tears. Eternity put his arms around her, a little surprised that she didn’t resist, and held her, not as if she were some fragile thing that might break— she’s a lot stronger than that—but as if his own grief and fears might seep into her skin and heal her with the knowledge that she wasn’t alone.
He didn’t try to say anything until her sobs ceased, and though he loosened his embrace, she didn’t draw away. She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes and sat up, pulling back just enough that he could clearly see her face. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t lost it like that since—you know.” “Yeah. Don’t be sorry. It’s the kind of thing they want to make us sorry for. Don’t let them.” “I’ll try. I want to make them sorry, though. Sorry for what they did to my parents, and to me.” She slid closer to him again, and this time she was the one who embraced him, the very touch of his skin feeling to her like the breaking of a law. And if that’s what it is, then good.