My presence doesn’t go unnoticed but the glances I receive are friendly. I even see a few smiles. I’m not so naïve as to imagine that my relationship with Ian is a secret. In any community, there’s bound to be gossip. Fortunately, whatever is being said about me appears to be positive.
I stop finally at a café overlooking a shopping arcade, where I spend several minutes pondering the seemingly endless list of choices. With a hazelnut-half-soya-something-something in hand, I take a seat at a wrought iron table in front. Only a few of the other tables are occupied. At most of these, holographic screens project up from the surface. People are absorbed in whatever they’re reading or watching. I could do the same but I prefer to just soak up the sights and sounds of everyday living in this remarkable place.
Not for the first time, it occurs to me that Pinnacle House must be a very large thorn in the side of the Council and the shadowy figures that control it. Why did Ian choose to put his headquarters where he did if not to be deliberately provocative? Yet I don’t have the impression that he’s sought a direct confrontation with the powers-that-be, at least not in the past. What’s changed?
The most obvious answer isn’t long in occurring to me. I’m in his life now. Whether we want to or not, we’re changing each other. He’s exploded the world wide open for me, unleashing a floodtide of sensations, experiences, and perceptions that are making up at least in part for the years that I lost. Whereas I… I’ve hurtled him into a confrontation with the HPF, forced him to question the most fundamental issue of who is entitled to basic human rights, and perhaps in the process made him more aware of how ordinary people, the scavengers in particular, are suffering. Ian, with his consciousness raised and his fundamental sense of decency provoked may be more than the Council is prepared to deal with.
I can only hope that the meeting is going well and that he’ll be home soon. My chest tightens as I think that even now, when he hasn’t been gone an hour, I miss him.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the pretty young blonde woman until she is standing in front of me. Her gamine face with a splattering of freckles breaks into an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re Amelia, right?”
I nod as I try to remember if I’ve met her before. I don’t think I would have forgotten. Her short hair is styled to elfin points along her forehead, cheeks, and the nape of her neck. She has huge, cornflower blue eyes that match the color of her dress made of iridescent wool interwoven with small, glittering beads. The bangles on her wrist make a soft, bell-like sound as she waves a hand.
“We haven’t met. I’m Daphne, Gab’s spouse.”
My confusion melts away. I return her smile. “Of course. Would you like to join me?”
“If I’m not interrupting anything--”
“Just wool gathering.” I indicate the chair beside mine. “Please.”
As she sits, I can’t help noticing the tightness around her eyes. Like me, she looks worried. I suspect we both are for the same reason.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
She plucks at her fingers for a moment and sighs. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You were at the Crystal Palace. It must have been horrible.”
I try not to remember the sight of immense shards of glass falling out of the sky but the image is burned into my brain.
“Ian and his people got us out very quickly.” I shrug, a little embarrassed. “I’m afraid that I may have upset one of them. Hollis, I think his name is?”
Daphne grins. “Don’t worry about Holly, he’s a doll. Besides, Gab likes you so you must be solid.” She takes a sip of her frothy green drink and turns more serious. “It’s just that we’re all on edge right now. Waiting’s hard.”
I’m happy to know that I’ve got Gab’s approval. I like her and I suspect that she stands very high in Ian’s esteem. But I also sense a kindred spirit in Daphne. Like her, I’m finding it incredibly hard to stand by and do nothing while Ian puts himself in danger.
“It really is hard,” I say. “Do you have any tips for how to deal with it?”
“Well, let’s see… Since Gab and I got together two years ago, I’ve knit three afghans, sat through two meditation courses, drunk enough herbal tea to float a stealth cruiser, and taken up boxing.”
“Boxing?” I can’t help but be surprised. She’s fine-boned and slender, to the point of appearing delicate.
Daphne nods emphatically. “Pounding away at a punching bag is a great stress reliever. So is getting in the ring and going a few rounds with a sparring partner.” She wrinkles her nose. “Gab isn’t thrilled by that last part but I tell her I’ll stop when she gets into a safer line of work. Like that’ll ever happen.”
“You don’t think it might?”
She shoots me a look of disbelief that I even have to ask. “Not unless we go through some worm hole into an alternate universe where everyone plays nicely together. Gab’s super committed to making the world a better place, no matter how many heads she has to knock together to do it. I don’t like it but I’d never say anything to discourage her.”
“Why not? You’re obviously concerned.”
Daphne is silent for a moment, weighing her response. Finally, she says, “I was a worker when Gab and I met. That’s a tough life, you have to scramble every minute and one misstep can cost you everything. But it’s still hugely better than what the scavs have. There are more of them every day. Right now they’re fighting for scraps. How long before they decide that they’d rather just fight, no matter what that costs them?”
It’s news to me that the population of scavengers is increasing but I’m not surprised. That fits with what I’ve seen of this world. All the same, the question is chilling. I think of the children I saw in the park and the fate that could befall them, even worse than what they have already suffered.
“Why are there more?” I ask. “I understand that technology has eliminated a lot of jobs but there’s a safety net--”
“It’s getting pretty frayed,” Daphne says. “Gab says that’s because the government is running out of money. It could just print more but that makes the money that the rich already have worth less so they won’t allow it. Benefits could be cut but that will cause widespread social unrest, also to be avoided at all cost. All that’s left is to kick people off the welfare rolls. The government’s making that easier to do than ever. Screw up your recycling, use too much water, so much as look funny at a peace officer, and you can be gone.”
“Nobody speaks up? Nobody objects?” I ask.
Daphne shrugs. “The government’s really good at pitting people against each other. Those who get kicked off the welfare rolls are labeled as social misfits who don’t deserve sympathy or support. Everyone else tells themselves that they’ll be okay, right up to the moment when they suddenly aren’t.”
“That can’t go on.” I don’t need any vast experience in life to recognize that. All I need is the knowledge I have of the moments in history when pent up rage on the part of ordinary people exploded into violence that burned like a firestorm across entire cultures, wiping them out.
“No, it can’t,” Daphne agrees. “We could have avoided all of this if the right choices had been made years ago but they weren’t. Now the whole system is set to implode. The only question is who gets hurt the most?”
“Who always gets hurt?” I ask softly. “The helpless and innocent--” Pain twists in me. I don’t want to think about what was done to me but the memories are inescapable.
She must see my distress because she lays her hand over mine. “Hey, it’s okay. Ian knows what he’s doing. He won’t be pushed into anything but he won’t be caught unprepared either. Whatever comes, whenever it does, we’ll be ready.”
I have to hope that she’s right and that the change so many are crying out for can somehow be accomplished without loss of life. But I also can’t help fearing that a darker and bloodier outcome is more likely.
“Te
ll you what,” Daphne says in an obvious effort to lighten the mood. “Since we’re both stuck waiting, what do you say we hit the gym? I’ll introduce you to my favorite punching bag.”
My first instinct is to beg off but I reconsider. I can’t bear to simply sit around and after what she’s told me, the thought of hitting something has definite appeal.
With no clear idea of what I’m getting into, I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, I’m slumped on a bench in the locker room, covered in sweat and fighting for breath. The woman who I’ve discovered hides a mean left hook--and an even meaner right one--under an elfin exterior is unlacing my gloves. Her grin is ear-to-ear.
“Girl, you’ve got some moves! I have to hand it to you. A few more practice sessions and you’ll be ready to get in the ring.” Her chuckle is pure anticipation. “I’d love to see Ian’s reaction when you tell him what you’ve been up to. Should be quite a sight.”
I try to laugh but it comes out sounding more like a wheeze. “Forget Ian, I know a Russian guy who really wouldn’t like it.”
Daphne takes a step back and stares at me with undisguised surprise. “What are you talking about, a Russian? Who’s he?”
“My dance instructor. Sergei thinks I should be a professional ballerina. Risking an injury for anything less than a grand jeté is definitely on his ‘nyet’ list.”
“That explains it. You’ve got that whole ‘float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’ thing going for you.” She tosses aside my second glove and sits down on the bench beside me. With a knowing glance, she asks, “So what does Ian think of this Russian guy?”
“I’m not sure…” Actually, I am, I just don’t want to admit it. “They’re probably not destined to be best buddies.”
Daphne laughs. “Hey, that’s okay. A little jealousy is cool so long as he knows how you feel about him.”
Does he? Ian and I have talked more in the last few days than ever before but there’s still a great deal we have to learn about each other. That isn’t helped by my inability to open up to him. I’m only just realizing how much the memories of my time in the gestation chamber have shaped who I am. How long will I go on concealing them from him?
Ten rounds with the punching bag have been a real bonding exercise. They’ve also loosened my tongue. “I’m not sure I know how I feel.”
My new friend shakes her head. “More like you’re too scared to admit it. I was the same way at first. Whatever else love is, it’s frigging terrifying. But ask yourself, do you miss him if you’re apart like five minutes?”
Slowly, I nod.
“Do you want to jump his bones every time you see him?”
I’m not totally sure what that means but I think I get the drift. Flushing a little, I nod.“Yes.”
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do to keep him safe?”
“Nothing but he won’t let me. He’s bound and determined to do things his own way no matter what that costs him.”
She nods. “Just like Gab. And that has you tied up in knots, wound so tight you can hardly breathe? You feel more vulnerable than you ever imagined being and worse yet, you can’t do anything about it. You’re riding a pendulum, swinging between crazy-mad happiness and gut-wrenching dread. Sound familiar?”
I look up, meeting her sympathetic gaze, and nod. She’s described my current state of mind perfectly. “You’re saying love sucks?”
Daphne sighs. “It’s not all blue birds of happiness and heart-shaped candy boxes, that’s for sure. Love is sweaty and hard and yeah, sometimes it hurts a bitch. But it’s also what makes us human. So be glad you’ve fallen victim to it. There are people out there who aren’t capable of caring about anything except themselves and they are just plain dangerous.”
Is she right? Is the way I feel about Ian proof that I am in every way human? Even more so than some of the naturally born?
“With all the stuff they can fix these days,” Daphne goes on, “you’d think they’d find a way to make people care about each other. But if that happened, the folks with more power than heart would never get away with what they do.”
I think of Davos. A shiver of foreboding runs through me. “People who don’t care about others will sacrifice anyone they have to in order to win.”
“True enough,” Daphne says. She seems undaunted. “But the people who do care will sacrifice themselves. The bad guys totally don’t get that. They never see it coming. Which is why in the end, they’ll lose.”
I want to believe her. Everything in me cries out to do so. But at the same time, I’m terrified that if she is right, Ian could be among those who make the ultimate sacrifice. At that thought, something inside me feels as though it is cracking wide open the way I used to long for the walls of the gestation chamber to do. I double over on the bench, clutching myself, barely hearing the reassuring sounds Daphne makes as she tries to comfort me.
All I can think of is that she’s right--love is hard, love hurts. But it makes us--it makes me-- human. I love Ian--completely and unconditionally. With that realization, all my doubts about myself that have lingered from the moment I awoke fall away. In their place is fierce joy that makes me want to shout out loud, I love Ian Slade! But the world doesn’t need to hear that, he does. Before he makes any decisions that could turn my worst fears for him into reality.
Chapter Twenty-three
Ian
I leave the council meeting two hours later feeling like I need a shower. Instead, I call Edward. We’d spoken briefly as I was leaving Pinnacle House, long enough for me to tell him what Amelia had remembered about Davos and that I was on my way to speak with the Council.
“Watch yourself,” he warned. “They’re the most lowlife, self-serving assholes that I’ve ever come across.”
“Yeah, but they give great media. What else really matters?”
“An ounce of decency?” he suggested.
“That’s crazy talk,” I said with a laugh but I’m not so amused now.
The city is in the final frenzy of preparations for Carnival as I leave the building. Sidestepping a conga line of inebriated clowns who have gotten an early start and are wending their way up the avenue, I call Edward again.
“I can’t figure out what I was doing there,” I say. “All the assholes did was play to the cameras. After the first hundred or so sound bites, I think I dozed off.”
“They didn’t ask you anything?”
“Yeah, finally. They wanted to know what I’d seen at the Crystal Palace and what I thought about it. I saw a building blow up. I think it shouldn’t have. End of story.”
“What about the scavengers?” Edward asks. “Did they come up?”
“Just at the end. They wanted to know how I thought they should be handled. I figured since I’d hauled ass to sit in a damn uncomfortable chair at an otherwise empty witness table for absolutely no good reason, I’d get in a few strokes of my own.”
“What did you say?” Edward sounds a little apprehensive but then he’s known me a long time.
I savor the memory. “Just that it was tough to see how the scavengers could have been involved. Easy to scapegoat them but it would be wiser to avoid a rush to judgment. A violent over-reaction on the part of the government against the poorest and most vulnerable citizens would only make the situation worse.”
He can’t help it, he laughs. “Jeez, buddy, you seriously called the scavengers ‘citizens’? Why not just set off a bomb in the council chamber and be done with it?”
I recall the red-faced sputtering that followed and grin. “Because this was more fun. Besides, it’s true. The government can strip benefits from people but they can’t change the fact of where someone was born or the inherent rights that go with that. Anyway, once they settled back down, I reminded them that violence doesn’t serve anyone’s interest and that I, for one, have a deep abhorrence of it. So much so that I’d hate to see a situation develop where private forces had to intervene.”
>
“Let me guess,” Edward says when he stops chuckling. “They were shitting in their pants at the thought of you calling out your troops to protect scavengers.”
“Pretty much. They changed the subject in a hurry and we wrapped up not too long after that. Needless to say, I never saw any reason to bring up Davos.”
“I understand but I still wish that you’d been able to.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “The timing on this isn’t ideal. Before you put anything in motion, we need to talk.”
What the hell? Does he really not get the danger to his sister? My voice turns cold. “If you’re planning on telling me why I shouldn’t go after him, don’t bother. Amelia’s already done that. While she’s so concerned about everyone else’s safety, someone’s got to look after hers. I figured that you’d want in on that job but if I was wrong--”
“You weren’t,” Edward responds. I hear the edge of his anger. “She’s my sister. Of course I want to protect her. I have no problem whatsoever with eliminating Davos. All I’m saying is that it would have been better if this was coming to a head some time from now. But it is what it is and we have to deal with that. Get this wrong and a lot of innocents could die. However, there are ways to prevent that.”
Somewhat mollified, not to mention curious why Edward thinks that any time would be better for an armed conflict to break out in the city, I ask, “What do you have in mind?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Listening to him, I’m struck by the thought that he’s not speaking theoretically. He’s got a fully formulated strategy already figured out and ready to go.
“Advance warning could save a lot of lives,” he says. “Just a few words in the right ears so that if fighting breaks out, people don’t get caught up in it. The scavengers have already gone deep and they’ll stay that way until this is over. But the workers are another story. Unless they know not to, they’ll show up for their jobs like they always do. That means they could get caught in a crossfire.”
Anew: Book Two: Hunted Page 19