I lunge toward the railing, barely clearing it before I pull my knees into my chest. I slide down the rest of the way along the polished metal banister, finally reaching the bottom no worse for wear except for the few seconds it takes me to regain my sea legs.
On my right, Kat flashes past, heading for the Promenade. If I don’t catch up to her now, I won’t have a chance in the seething afternoon crowds. Kids killing time after school, shift workers just finishing up for the day, and everyone else with the misfortune to get caught up in the crush.
All the techniques Tahir’s drilled into me for navigating crowds don’t really work at peak times in the Terrestrial District. There are too many people trapped down here for me to make headway in polite, orderly fashion. As much as I hate it, there’s no way to avoid being touched. Gotta go on the offensive. I whip out my elbows, shouldering my way through like a linebacker, uncaring who I have to squeeze past. At least down here, this kind of behavior goes with the territory.
Jostling past two matrons clutching their purchases to their chests, I see Kat up ahead and her brief glance over her shoulder to locate me. A burst of adrenaline floods my body. All my arcade-honed instincts scream. She must be getting close to the drop. I can’t afford any more mistakes. She stays ahead of me as we wade into the crowds along the Promenade. One second I have her locked in my ocular booster’s sights, then she’s gone and no amount of craning my neck changes that.
Frantically, I scan the thoroughfare. So many people… then I see a flash of copper fleeing toward a tight alley ahead on my right. I let the crowd buffet me along, bringing me close enough for me to break through the bodies, ricocheting like a ping-pong ball.
In the sudden quiet of the alley, there’s no Kat. Just a dumpster set against the exterior wall of a pizza parlor. Where…
I pull up my map. A dead end. The bricked-off wall’s very real under my hands. Kat’s long gone. Along with any chance of possibly catching up.
I failed. What if this delays my training? Or worse. What if I’m stuck down here thanks to my poor performance? I clutch my forehead.
<
>>I’m OK. I …>>
I swing back toward the crowd shuttling past. It’s too much. Too many people. Too many smells, so horrid yet achingly familiar at the same time. I want to crawl inside myself and disappear.
<
My back’s against the wall of the pizza parlor. I put my head between my knees and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, desperately trying not to choke on the smells of freshly baked pizza dough. >>Sorry. Just light-headed.>>
<
I was, but I’m so not dealing with this right now. >>If you hadn’t interrupted, I might’ve had a chance to catch K.>> Another lie, but I don’t care.
Tahir’s quiet. Either unwilling to call bullshit or unable to without more proof. <
Across the way, the twenty-four hour diner beckons in the semi-darkness like a beacon in the everlasting night of the Terrestrial District. I push off the wall, glad to feel something other than panic, even if it’s fury at Tahir. >>Is that an order?>>
A burst of annoyance jumps across the connection before he can battle it back. Like static quickly squelched. <
>>I’ll consider it.>> Then I disconnect from him entirely.
I’m on my second pot of tea when Kat wrenches my stool around to face her. “There you are. Still feeling sorry for yourself?”
I shrug. “You got away fair and square.”
The lavender chamomile did take the edge off, not that I’d ever tell Tahir that. The aching pressure on my chest eased up after just a few sips, the cold paranoia in my gut vanquished after the first pot. A second steep seemed to be in order to motivate me for the walk back to HQ.
She smirks. “Not exactly. Come on. I’ll show you.”
I follow her out of the diner. The crowds have eased a bit, losing some of the frantic energy from before, as we cross the thoroughfare and enter the alley she vanished from earlier. She gestures to the grimy walls and the boarded-over windows. “You’ve only been with us, what, a week? What do you see?”
I clamp down on my wayward mouth before I say something I can’t take back. Why does every damn thing with Aventine have to be a teachable moment?
Her eyes flutter with an eyecast command, and a moment later she sends me a zoomed-in map of the alley with a small rectangle highlighted on one of the walls. Squinting, I cycle between the map and my normal sight, struggling to find the exact spot. “What is it?”
“A door.” She waves me closer, toward a section of wall. “These maintenance corridors are all over New Worth. Supposed to blend into their surroundings for aesthetic reasons,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “but they come in handy if you know where to look.”
The door opens, revealing a tight corridor of cement-block construction, ancient cleaning bots charging against a powerstrip running along one wall.
Kat taps her temple. “Aventine can override the door security and,” she points to the end of the corridor and the other door there, “most of them cut through city blocks or levels if you need to switch things up in a hurry.”
“Huh.” I never really thought about how the city of New Worth kept things clean – all I know is they try a hell of a lot harder the higher up you go.
She closes the hatch. “So cheer up. I almost didn’t have enough time to secrete myself away in here before you caught up to me.”
I feel slightly better at that and Kat’s friendly smile. “But the hatches don’t show up on my map.”
“They will. Once Tahir’s satisfied with your grasp of the city’s geography, you’ll move on to these types of shortcuts and receive an updated map as well.”
The two of us retrace our steps back toward the train station. “I know a place near headquarters that has the best spring rolls in the Understory. Winner buys on these little excursions,” Kat says, “so, my treat.”
“That sounds gr…”
I trail off at the sight of a large group of people marching toward the train platform. Their voices follow. “Don’t Cut Out the Disconnects” and “New Worth Isn’t Worth It” reverberate off metal and concrete. The teens I saw earlier are in the thick of the protest, thumping their chests and shouting to the Understory.
“Just another Disconnect demonstration,” Kat says with an exasperated sigh. “Nothing to worry about.”
My steps slow at the raw anger reflected on the protestors’ faces. A team of reporters is already capturing the rally for the next update of the news feeds. With so many people with implants and the ability to share what’s going on instantaneously, true breaking news can get lost in all the noise on the New Worth network. That leaves the outlets to weed through the digital morass, vetting the stories that are really newsworthy for the general public.
A black reporter gestures to the seething crowd behind her, her flawless dress gloves hitting just above the elbow. A New Worth News press badge swings from her graceful neck like a medal.
A lump fills my throat at the thought of Brita. I still feel bad I didn’t have a chance to talk to her after the party before Aventine disconnected us, abandoning her so soon after her father’s refusal to let her work at New Worth News. But I tell myself I wouldn’t be able to help her from the Terrestrial District. With her goals of becoming a reporter, she’d be risking too much to associate with me, marred by scandal. Disappearing’s the only way I could help her, as much as I hate to admit it.
Kat watches my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on.” She directs us toward the far side of the platform, away from the Disconnect demonstration.
<
br /> I bite my lip. Give the Disconnects their space, and nine times out of ten they’ll leave you alone. Live and let live. But I don’t think that’s the case today. >>I’ve never seen them this angry.>>
Kat glances over at the protestors once more. <
For years, they’ve spoken out against the discrimination they’ve faced. The more militant ones have always advocated leaving New Worth and starting over, away from the high-tech city, despite the unfeasibility of living outside the dome. But now that Emergence is here, suddenly their renewed anger makes sense. >>They want to be the ones to go. The Vesa trial.>>
Kat nods. It’s no secret Disconnects have been disproportionately forced into the jobs to help return the land to its former glory. High-risk, disposable positions. For people who shunned the New Worth network or had it taken away. The unspoken assumption that they aren’t fit for anything else.
>>They think they’ve earned Emergence for the rest of us. But what about the decades of scientific research and engineering that have made it possible?>>
She shrugs. <
Chapter Ten
Kat nearly moans at her first bite of spring roll. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. So many places trick you with exotic proteins but forget the most fundamental part – the fresh mint leaves that turn an ordinary roll into a transcendent one.”
I dunk mine in the accompanying peanut sauce, with the perfect balance of spice and crunchy nuts.
Kat licks the remains of the translucent wrapper from her fingers and sighs happily. “If I could, I’d get a whole entrée of them, but the pho here is pretty good too.”
“You like working for Aventine?” I ask, as we wait for the rest of our order.
She nods. “I do. I get to see all the different parts of the city. The work’s constantly changing but… how to describe it…” She plunks her elbows on the table. “Regardless of how straightforward a job is, I still get an illicit thrill out of it all, carrying secrets through the city.”
I get it. The exhilaration of making a successful drop, with no one the wiser, too wrapped up in their own concerns, clueless of the larger world around them. A rush I’ve only found in an arcade game. I take a sip of my iced tea. “But don’t you miss your old life? Friends? Family?”
“Parts of it, yeah, but I like working for Aventine more. Giving up my identity was worth it for me. Digitally, I may be a ghost, but I got permission to synch with my dads, which helps.”
That would be something. If I’ve learned anything this week it’s that it’s not healthy for me to stew in the relative silence of my head. My friends, family… I’ll do almost anything Aventine asks of me to have those connections restored. But they already think I’m dead. Could they forgive me for putting them through this?
Kat looks thoughtful a moment. “It’s OK to grieve, you know. We’ve all been through it. You don’t have to act tough all the time.”
The lump in my throat is back. “That’s the only way I know how to cope.” By forcing everything deep down where it won’t interfere.
The expression on her face has me gritting my teeth. Brita looked the same way when I finally told her the story behind the scar on my neck. “You’re not alone as you go through this process,” Kat says.
But I am. “There’s not a minute that goes by where I’m not reminded of what I’ve lost.”
Memories, like shrapnel, lodged in my mind, ready to rend at a moment’s notice. Yesterday, scrolling through my apartment’s wallscreen settings, I came across the ocean channel my parents favored for their holoblinds. I had to change it to a mist-shrouded forest before I lost it. Hell, just seeing one of the training room projections that had dark brown hair like Randall was enough to send me over the edge. Because thoughts of him inevitably lead back to Rik.
And that’s something I can’t handle right now. Perhaps that’s a sign I’m better off leaving things as they are. It’s certainly easier that way, for everyone who’s not me.
The waiter brings us the rest of our meal. A steaming bowl of pho for Kat, and a faux-pork and vermicelli dish for me.
She takes her time mixing in sprouts, cilantro, jalapeños, and enough hot sauce to make my eyes water before she’s satisfied with the flavor of the broth. Then she stabs her spoon toward me. “So who’d you leave behind that’s making you so miserable? I’m betting it’s not your parents.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Not exactly.”
Kat taps her temple. “What about up here?”
I stare at my plate. “I was considering calibration with someone before all… this happened.”
I want nothing more than to synch with Rik, for him to reassure me that I’m still me. Without him or Brita around, I fear I’m losing a bit of Emery every day. Aventine’s determined to chip away at the letters of my identity until only M the courier is left.
Kat slurps at her pho for a long moment, then sets down her spoon, frowning slightly. “Well, confidants are tricky. Cache got permission for someone on the outside, but she really had to work for it. That’s why Aventine likes to get us while we’re young and unattached.”
She’s quiet a moment while I half-heartedly push noodles around my plate with plastic chopsticks. “I know you’re still getting used to everything, but,” she leans in, “some would say we lucked out. Even with the sacrifices Aventine requires, you have to admit we have it better than most people. You were in the Terrestrial District today. You know what the alternative is.”
I do, but at least I’d have my friends, my family. At least I’d have Rik. I used to think I could face anything with him in the back of my mind. Now, I have to figure out who I am without him.
The following morning, Tahir has filled the whole training room with doors. Locked doors, each frame mounted on rollers.
Armed with a standard-issue pick kit and the techniques I learned from one of the training modules, I’m tasked with undoing all manner of locks. Some snap open after a few seconds, others need to be coaxed by my pick and cajoled by my torque wrench into giving up their secrets. And the last one seems determined to withstand every trick I throw at it.
Tahir hovers over my shoulder. “Picking locks is a defensive measure only. You’re a courier, not a criminal, but this skill can come in handy should you find yourself in a situation where you need to, shall we say, make your own path.”
“Got it.” I hold the pick between my teeth as I give the doorknob a hard yank. Still nothing. Damn.
Tahir puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s enough, M. Let me show you something.”
With a blink, he sends me an updated map of New Worth. Aventine requires all their couriers to run a local copy on their implants, supposedly more reliable than the New Worth network – subjected to outages, traffic slowdowns, corruption, and intrusions. “You remember the maintenance access point K used to elude you yesterday?” How could I forget? “This version includes all maintenance hatches and utility right-of-ways across New Worth. We have an… arrangement that provides our couriers access to these spaces.”
He gestures to the lock I’ve spent the better part of an hour trying to break. “Aventine worked with the city to get these locks installed on most maintenance portals. Largely tamper-resistant tubular design with a small receiver unit embedded inside.” He flares out his hands, outlined by his ever-pristine gloves. “And the tip of your middle finger transmits the encrypted key.”
He waves me back to the lock. “Now, try again.”
I shake my head. “Have to get my gloves.”
“Then what are these?” He snags my wrist and upturns my hand.
“They’re my gloves.” I pull away. This morning I woke up, wanting to wear something that was mine. Not bought and paid for by Aventine.
Tahir frowns. “T
he clothes we’ve provided all perform essential functions. You cannot pick and choose which elements to wear. What if you were on a job and needed the protection a maintenance hatch provides? What then?”
“I’ll wear them next time, OK?”
Tahir shakes his head. Disappointed. Well, that makes two of us. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’ve been rather subdued all morning.”
I cross my arms, staring down the line of open doors. All leading back to Aventine.
“If this is about yesterday,” Tahir continues, “no courier-in-training has managed to keep up with K. The fact that you stayed with her for so long–”
“It’s not that. At least not wholly. But talking to her reminded me of how much I’ve lost. Ineligible for Emergence and dammed-if-I-do, dammed-if-I-don’t, when it comes to reconnecting with my contacts. All so I can get paid to play hide and seek across the city.”
“Ah. Well. If you are concerned about your parents, know they’ve recently secured quarters in the lower Canopy with funds we were able to disguise as death benefits.”
I saw, thanks to the alerts I set up for all the people I care about. I’m tracking changes to just their public profiles since that’s all I have access to now, but I tell myself that’s better than constantly sending out search queries into the ether to appease my fragile, always-fluctuating emotions. Brita’s status also changed a few days ago, indicating she’s taken a position with the NW Signal – a respectable but small media outlet. Not what she wanted, I’m sure, but I’m glad she’s not abandoning her dreams, given all that’s happened. Rik’s profile has remained the same. I didn’t expect it to change, but it does reinforce just how meaningless a glimpse the profiles provide into someone’s life.
“That is what you wanted for them?” Tahir prods.
“Yes, but–”
“You may grumble, and sometimes your attitude’s truly appalling, but I know,” he says, tapping his temple, “how well you’ve taken to the work. It’s the perfect marriage of the arcade scenarios you love with many of the principles from your data curation program. Do you deny it?”
Implanted Page 11