by Lee Strauss
I’d snacked at the yacht party, so I decided to skip this particular dining experience with my mother.
But I had to do something. As much as I didn’t understand Alison, and honestly, I often didn’t even like her, she was still my mother. Liam had to be found.
Which meant attending Noah’s rally.
Back in my room, I pinned my hair up and stuffed it under the wig. Then I popped in the brown contacts, a procedure that went far more smoothly the second time around. I put the same clothes on as I had worn earlier, and studied my image in the mirror. Bland and dowdy.
Perfect.
The house was big enough that I could slip away unnoticed. I made my way to the garage and buckled myself into my pod, instructing it to take me to the gate.
Vehicle traffic coming in from the outside had picked up with business commuters returning home. Fewer electric cars were in the lane going out, but clearly there was some kind of draw that took the residents outside. I’d never had reason to observe gate traffic before. I’d naively assumed everyone stayed happily in Sol City like I did.
Foot traffic going in and out remained constant, a crowded flow. With so many people surrounding me, I’d been silly to think someone would’ve noticed me last time.
Once I passed through the gates, I walked directly to the sky train station. I kept my head down and wished there were some way I could plug my nose. The heat of summer didn’t mix well with sweaty flesh, and most of the people I jostled against needed to go home and have a shower.
A grey-haired man paced with a sandwich board sign on his bent body. The front said “More Elderly = More Care Needed.”On the back it read, “Starving Seniors is a Disgrace to a Nation.”
I stared at the man’s face. His eyes were watery bright like crystal, and elephant skin hung loosely over his face and arms. I couldn’t help feeling grossed out. Sol City didn’t have elderly, or at least, the elderly there didn’t look like that.
I was already late and hoped I hadn’t missed the whole thing. It was in the same neighborhood as the church, and I’d noted the signs that showed the way earlier. I crossed the courtyard and passed the water fountain where I’d first bumped into Noah earlier that day. A humid breeze fanned the varied food smells from the food court–some good, some not so good.
With all the people and traffic, it was trickier to get to the station than I’d thought. Finally, I found the escalator that took me to the sky train platform over head. By the time I found Noah and his gaggle of placard-raising followers, he was already wrapping up.
“GAPs are oblivious to the struggles outside their gates.” Noah didn’t have a mic or blow horn like I’d imagined he would. Just the power of his own voice carried his message through the crowd; resonate, clear, baritone that was pretty impressive. “They live in walled paradises, never knowing hunger, or strife or the pressures to pay bills.”
I admired his tenacity at any rate, even if his passions were misplaced. I wondered why the news people were missing. Maybe because this small rally wasn’t disrupting a Sleiman event?
Noah didn’t seem to care about the size of the crowd, or if media were present. He seemed to like the sound of his own voice.
“Write the mayor and those running against her, hoping to fill her shoes. If they really want your support, they will oppose GAP policies. No more genetic manipulation. No more tax breaks for those who are older than one hundred years due to artificial means. No more gated, elitist, technologically advanced cities. Make sure your voice is heard!”
I crossed my arms and braced myself against the bodies that pushed against me as a new batch of travelers disembarked from the last train.
I’d lost sight of Noah, craning my neck to see if I could make him or any of his friends out in the crowd. Then two forceful words blasted through the dissonance of the train station noise.
“You’re late.”
Noah Brody stood beside me, his body pressing close as people pushed by.
I squirmed. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I must’ve gotten the times wrong.”
Noah stared at me hard. Something was off about this guy. He unnerved me. I glanced away, plotting out which direction I should dash and calculating the odds of out-running him.
The next train filled up with passengers and left like a breath leaving space on the platform.
“You sounded great,” I offered weakly. “Seemed...well-received?”
Before Noah could respond, someone called his name. I glanced over Noah’s shoulder and spotted a wiry-looking guy with red hair.
Dexter.
Like it or not, now I’d have to stick around. Dexter was the key to unlocking the mystery of what happened to Liam. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.
“Noah,” the guy called out as he hobbled to where Noah and I were standing. There was something awkward about his gait.
“Ultimate, speech, man. Ultimate!”
“Thanks, Dex,” Noah said.
Zack Dexter jittered around like a knobby jointed string-puppet. I wondered if he were on something. I’d heard naturals weren’t always fans of staying “natural” in the purest sense of the word. That was something I didn’t get. The naturals were all high and mighty when it came to their negative opinions about improving human life with science, but they didn’t think twice about damaging their cells with dangerous pharmaceuticals.
Dexter eyed me up and down, his lips stretching over crooked teeth. “Who’s this?”
“Dexter,” Noah said, “meet Chloe. Chloe, Dexter.”
Dexter’s ginger eyebrows shot up. “Hi!”
Before I could respond, Noah interrupted. “I’m starved. Let’s get something to eat.”
People started gathering for the next train, making conversation difficult. Noah guided me by my elbow, a too-intimate act that made me uncomfortable, down the escalator to the exit.
We entered the food court between the station and the church. It spread out from the outdoor courtyard down to a second-level underground. We were blasted by bright lights and digital signs announcing every kind of ethnic food on the planet: Thai, Greek, Italian, Vietnamese, Korean, French, British, Indian and good ol’Americano. I found the combination of smells to be a little nauseating. A cement floor ran through the entire place, dotted with aluminum tables and chairs painted red.
Noah led the way to the Indian kiosk in the corner. The cement floor had something smeared on it, a failed effort at cleaning up a spill. Grime had built up along the wall creases and I was grossed out by the chair Noah pulled out for me. I tried to keep a neutral expression fighting the grimace that threatened to overtake my face.
“What’d you want?” Noah said to me. “My treat.”
“Oh, um, I don’t know.” I was getting over my initial shock at the disgusting lack of hygiene, and the food was starting to smell okay. My queasiness passed and I was suddenly starving. I scanned the menu that hung behind the counter.
“Number two is pretty good,” Noah said.
“Sure.”
I watched as Noah and Dexter placed their orders. Noah tugged a wallet out of his back pocket and paid in cash, but I was relieved to see that Dexter held his hand out to be scanned. At least they weren’t all fanatics.
The guys returned with trays; Dexter took the seat opposite and Noah, the one beside. It was a little unsettling how close he tended to keep to me.
“I didn’t think there were places left that took cash anymore,” I said, as Noah took his rice bowl off the tray and pushed a second one to me. I inhaled the savoury curry scent, eager to dig in. I picked a cashew off the top and tossed it into my mouth.
“There aren’t many. Only the ones whose owners haven’t taken the chip themselves. Dealing in cash is becoming an underground activity.”
“But you just did it in broad daylight.”
“That’s because it’s not illegal. Yet.”
Chip implantation was a voluntary procedure. The security and convenience it provided made sense to
me. Plus, it wasn’t that expensive. Even the naturals could probably afford it. I didn’t think not having a chip would ever be illegal. Noah was just paranoid.
Dexter’s leg jiggled under the table. The guy could not sit still.
“So, Dexter,” I started. “Have you and Noah been friends long?”
Dexter stared at Noah and grinned. “So long, we could be brothers.”
Noah snorted good-naturedly.
Dexter cleared his throat directing his next comment to Noah. “Dude, is this your new lady love?”
New lady love? Like he has an old one? Or several? I had no plans to fill that role. There was a thud and then a yelp from Dexter. Noah had kicked him under the table.
“You’re such an idiot.”
Dexter laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Well then, maybe me and the new girl?”
I wasn’t amused. I couldn’t believe Dexter thought he’d have even the slightest chance with me.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
Another stupid grin. “I didn’t think so either, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”
I didn’t have time to be the object of some jerk’s desire. I needed to get the conversation where I wanted it to go, so I could get the information I was hoping for and leave.
“Have you always lived in L.A?”
“Yup,” Dexter mumbled with a mouthful. “Home sweet home.”
“Have you ever been, you know, to Sol City?”
Noah’s fork paused mid-air. Dexter choked a bit before gulping from his soda can. Uh, oh. Wrong thing to say.
“No,” Dexter finally said. “You can’t get through the gates without GAP ID. Why’d you ask that?”
I picked at my rice with my fork. “I don’t know. I’m new here. Just making conversation.”
Noah turned his chair toward me, the metal legs scrapping along the cement floor. The grinding noise made me shudder.
“You must miss New San Diego. I heard they finally finished the Obama Memorial Bridge.”
I hesitated before answering. I was worried that Noah might know more about New San Diego than I did, which was entirely possible.
“Sure. It’s awesome,” I said, wondering if there even was an Obama Memorial Bridge and if I’d just failed some kind of test.
Dexter stood suddenly. “Nature calls.” He sauntered down a dark hallway to the public restrooms.
I took a bite of curry. It burned my throat, and I followed it with a sip of soda.
Noah seemed fascinated by my every move. I couldn’t think of a thing to say, and when he stayed silent, watching me from the corner of his eye, I squirmed, desperate to get out from under his gaze.
“You know, maybe I’ll go, too.”
I followed the hallway Dexter had taken, entering the ladies room that was at the end of the hall. The toilets and sinks hadn’t been cleaned in a few days, and there was no way I was going to touch anything in the room, much less use the facilities. In fact, I wasn’t even going to go back to the table. I’d have to find a way to get Dexter alone if I wanted answers. Noah Brody was becoming a huge nuisance.
I waited a good fifteen minutes before treading softly back down the hall, glancing at our table and sighing with relief when I saw it was empty. They must have left without me. But just as I turned the corner to make my escape, a body stepped in front of me, blocking the sunlight. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was Noah Brody. And I knew that he knew.
Chapter 8
I took a small step back.
“Where you off to, Chloe? Don’t you know it’s rude to eat and run?”
I felt my throat constrict. I took another step back. Noah placed his arm over my head as I pressed against the wall.
“I’m just going home.”
“Home? To Sol City?”
My eyes burned, and I feared I might burst into tears. Instead I swallowed hard and stared back at him. I fought to keep the quiver out of my voice. “My boyfriend knows where I am.”
“Sure he does.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then he’s not a very good boyfriend.”
I bit my lip. A tear escaped unbidden.
Noah’s voice softened. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really up to, Zoe Vanderveen?”
I squirmed under his gaze.
“My brother is missing.” My voice sounded so weak. So small.
“Liam? He still hasn't come home?”
I shook my head. “He’s been gone for four days.”
“Four days isn’t really that long, you know, for a guy his age.”
“His chip isn’t tracking.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed as he processed the news. “That is kind of odd, I guess. What do the authorities say?”
I offered a frustrated shrug. “They aren’t saying anything.”
He dropped his arm and took a step back. “I see. And you think I have something to do with it?”
“I don’t know. But I think Dexter might.”
“Dexter?”
I dug into my shoulder bag and removed the note. I showed it to him. “I found this in Liam’s room.”
He took it, then handed it back. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
I wiped the runaway tear off my face with the back of my hand. “It’s the only clue I have.”
Noah’s ComRing buzzed. He tapped it and the image of the auburn-haired girl popped up. Noah turned the image and sound off, and he mumbled into his hand, “Yeah, I’m on my way.”
I saw his chest expand as he took a deep breath, considering.
“Dexter has a lot of problems, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I just can’t see him mixed up with this. I mean, how would someone like Dexter ever meet someone like your brother?”
I shrugged limply. “I know it’s a long shot, but I have to at least ask him.”
“Okay, I’ll help you.” Noah started walking. I stared at his back, not sure what he meant by that.
He turned. “Are you coming?”
***
I couldn’t believe I was running after Noah Brody to who knew where. I wasn’t sure I could trust him, but at this point, I didn’t have a choice. I caught up and kept pace with his long strides, following him onto the MagLev public pod. He dropped coins into the old money collector, one of the few patrons who did, and I ran my hand under the scanner.
I took a sideways seat next to him, my heart beating and my mind racing. What if this was a trick? Maybe I’d end up missing, too, my chip cut out of my hand and my wrists slashed, while I bled to death in some dank, abandoned shed.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that. At this point, Noah was my best hope for finding Liam, and he said he’d help me. I had to believe him.
A black guy with a red bandana on his head sat across from us. His white wife or girlfriend sat beside him. The pod had the capacity to seat twelve, but twice that many jumped aboard, choosing to stand in the aisle, hanging onto suspended bars for balance.
A petite Asian girl squeezed in beside me forcing me to press against Noah. I felt the strength of his thigh against mine and the warmth of his skin against my arm. I wanted to feel repulsed, but I was surprised that my response was different, curious.
If Noah felt anything, he didn’t give it away. His dark eyes focused on a bright digital advertisement opposite us, partially concealed by shifting bodies. I examined his profile wondering if I could trust him. His hair was trimmed short over his ears, and his cheek bones were high. A shadow of a beard was forming on his chin and jaw line, and his lips, though pressed together firmly, were full.
My impressions were changing. Noah Brody was actually not bad-looking.
The pod came to a stop, and he stood and exited with me close on his heels. We were in a residential area with blocks of apartment buildings and dense, multi-family housing. I followed him down a back alley past graffiti-laden fences cramped with long grasses and wild-flowers.
The path opened onto a friendlier-looking cul-de-sac li
ned with one-story attached Spanish-styled houses. Each house had tangerine-orange stucco siding that was faded in the places that saw the most sun. The yards were landscaped with indigenous cacti, lemon trees and wild grasses. A few homes had tiny electric cars or scooters sitting in the drive, but I assumed most of the people living in this area took advantage of public transit.
Noah climbed the steps to a wooden patio I could tell was once painted white. It had a number of terracotta planters on it, all over-flowing with bright pink, purple and red flowers native to California. I supposed that some people might call the place charming.
The front door was open, so no one noticed when we walked in. The bungalow didn’t have a foyer, and I found myself immediately in a small living area. A sofa draped with a mixed array of blankets sat opposite a dated midsized flat-screen TV. A reclining chair rested at an angle between them, and on the floor was an old burgundy rug.
The eating area was on the left side of the entrance. The kitchen table had someone’s leftover peanut butter sandwich on one end and a finished old-fashioned puzzle on the other. The image was of France. Though there were three pieces missing, it hadn’t stopped the puzzle maker from working it to the end.
Children’s voices broke through the quiet.
“Noah!”
A young boy, no older than five, threw himself into Noah’s arms.
“Hi, big guy!” Noah’s voice was softened by a fondness I was surprised to hear.
“This is my little brother, Davis,” he said. “Davis this is....”
“Chloe,” I said, deciding to keep my real life separate from my intrusion into this one.
Another boy followed behind Davis. This one was in his early teens.
“And,” Noah continued, “my brother, Jonathon.”
“Hi,” I said.
Noah had two siblings, both brothers. Being from Sol City, I’d never seen such a family before, though, I knew they existed.
“Oh, Noah, you’re here.” The auburn-haired girl from the holographic image entered the room. At first I wondered if this was another of Noah’s girlfriends, but on second glance she looked too old for him. Late twenties at least.