Nova had left the conversation entirely, her gaze fixed on the screen behind Fin. She ordered the Homecom to turn up the volume. Cyblock-202 was ablaze. The authorities were blaming Eastern Bloc terrorists. Fire brigades had set up a perimeter around the building. They were letting it burn, directing all their efforts to keeping it from spreading to the adjacent structures. There were reports of Cys trapped on the upper floors, but with the continuing explosions inside the building, it was too dangerous to send rescue crews in. Police in riot gear were firing on the crowds to keep them back. From their studio in the Periculum Towers, commentators discussed the tragic losses to the city: the thousands of credits in police overtime, the thousands more in hazard pay for the firemen, the millions in lost revenue once the Cybernite personnel shortages were assessed, and the billions in credits to rebuild the Cyblock. Casualty estimates crossed the bottom of the screen without comment. Thousands were dead. Tens of thousands more displaced. Rioting and looting had already begun in the surrounding neighborhoods. Police were recycling on sight to restore order, but the violence, like the rain, was unstoppable.
Nova's Commlink blinked. “They’re calling everyone in,” she said. “This is bigger than just a terrorist attack.”
Fin stood up. “I’ll walk you to the train.”
“You’re not going anywhere, remember? Besides, they’re sending a gunship. It’ll be on the roof in ten.”
“I’m going up there with you just in case.”
“Fin, that’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.”
Nova changed into her uniform and they went up to the roof. Across Cytown, Cyblock-202 lit the murky sky, but behind the veil of despair, the chaos was barely a whisper in the rain. Fin looked up into the darkness. Was this God mourning for the Cybernites or the devil laughing so hard at the folly of man that he could not help but cry? Descending through the gloom, a gunship set down. Nova boarded and it lifted off. Fin watched until the ship’s running lights disappeared, then took the elevator back to their floor. When the doors opened, Mama nearly bumped into him getting on.
“Fin? Honey, I thought you were dead. Oh my word.” She wrapped her arms around him. “What happened to you? Squatters took over your apartment. It’s a sin what they’ve done to it. Where have you been?”
“I have been busy,” he hedged.
“Have you seen Nova? I was hoping she could help me get to the hospital in one piece, but she’s not answering her door.”
“What’s wrong?”
It was Kron. A friend let her know that he had been injured in the explosion at Cyblock-202. He had gone there to buy Creep from a dealer who was selling it for half what Death’s Door was asking. It meant venturing into a dangerous part of town. It also meant angering the DDs if they found out, but it was a risk they had to take. They couldn’t afford to pay what Death’s Door charged anymore. Kron had been forced out of his good assembly line job a few weeks ago. The other Whites at the factory had caught him stealing credits from one of their own, and it wasn’t the first time. Kron was a thief. He would always be a thief. Mama knew that when she married him. She had tried to get him to stop, more than once, and for the most part he had, but they were so desperate for money. This time when the Whites caught him they beat him nearly to death and promised worse if he didn’t get out for good. Kron had no choice. He took a job at another factory for barely half the wages. Even with Mama’s pay as a housekeeper, they were falling behind. They never had enough food anymore and couldn’t make ends meet. They had hopes he would find a better job soon, but now this. If he couldn’t go back to work, she didn’t know what they were going to do.
Fin took her hand. “I’ll go with you, Mama.”
They made their way to the hospital where they found the floodlit entrance blocked by police, the surrounding streets littered with the injured and the maimed, and survivors searching for loved ones. Amid the sirens and moans, the explosions and gunfire, the rain drummed a strange requiem. Fin followed Mama as she pushed through the crowd to the barricade and demanded entrance to the hospital. Her husband was in there. She knew it in her bones, and they had no right to stop her from seeing him.
A policeman pointed his rifle at her head. “You want to see my right? This is my right and it’s not set to stun. Move along whore, or your number will be next on the dead board.”
He flicked his thumb in the direction of a giant vidscreen that the hospital had set up on the grounds. On it were four columns of numbers separated by color, four endless streams, like waterfalls crashing relentlessly onto the rocks: Yellow-3298 Series-100, Green-4576 Series-99, Gray-106 Series-100, White-1023 Series-100—no names, just color, number, and series. That’s all they were to the Man. White-023 Series-100 appeared at the top of the column and began its downward march.
“No, not my Kron,” Mama cried.
Fin had never liked Kron, and Kron had hated Fin. Their every encounter was an opportunity for the White to revile him. Kron had been part of the mob that ruined Fin’s apartment. He was a bully, a thief, and a drug addict who had never shown anyone an ounce of kindness except Mama. He loved her and she loved him. So Fin mourned the passing of this Cybernite who for all his faults was still a creature deserving of neither the miserable life he had been given nor the horrible death that had taken it away.
“Where are the deceased?” he asked the policeman.
“The staging area is at the Recon plant three blocks over,” the officer said.
“We would like to claim the body of Kron.”
“Who?”
“White-023 Series-100.”
“You’re bothering me about a Cy? Get lost.”
“He was killed in the disaster.”
“So what?”
“This woman is his wife. Show some mercy, please.”
“Try the market in a couple days. He should be low-grade Recon by then. Now, move along.”
Fin led Mama away from the barricade to a place out of the bright lights and apart from the crowds.
“Wait here. I will find him,” he told her.
“It’s no use,” she sobbed. “He’s gone.”
“Don’t you want to pray over his body?”
“Why?”
“We mourn the ones who have passed so we remember that we are still blessed. It is God’s word."
“Wake up, Fin. If there ever was a God, the Man did away with him long ago. There's no God left to pray to. No almighty God would allow this to happen to us, to anyone. And what difference would it make anyway? What difference does any of this make? Nothing will bring my Kron back. I might as well be dead, too.” She looked away. “I already am. I just don’t know it yet.”
“Don’t say that. You can’t give up hope, Mama.”
“There's no hope for us, Fin, and it's high time you learned that.”
“Maybe not for us.” He took her hand. “But we must hope for the future.”
“What future? We serve the Man, we suffer, and we die. If I had the five credits, I'd find the nearest self-recycle and end it all. There’s your future, honey.”
Down the dark street a Yellow was crying, holding the broken body of a Green in his arms. A muscular boy working his way slowly down the street stopped and said something to him. The Yellow just looked away and the boy moved on, stopping at other Cys he encountered, seeming to offer them something, too. Most just shook their heads and he kept going, but with some there was a brief exchange. He came up to Fin and Mama.
“Need Creep?” he said. “One credit a slam. Special price. Today only. DD certified. No hassles. I’ve got five left. What do you say?”
Mama held out her hand. “I’ll take one. I’ll pay you tomorrow. I swear.”
“Cash only, whore.”
“She is not a whore,” said Fin.
“Shut up, Cy. I wasn’t talking to you.”
Mama pleaded, “Please, I need it.”
He pushed her away. “What do I look like? A bank? Get lost.”
As the teen moved on, Fin recognized the tattoo on his arm, the one the boy had tried to obliterate once before, the one that had been recently re-inked.
“Stop,” Fin said, standing up.
The boy shoved him away. “Piss off, Cy. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I am Fin, Andy Grasso.”
Grasso backed up a step to get a better look at the face underneath the hood. “Do I know you?”
“I interviewed you in the hospital regarding your classmate, Ricky Colson, who you brutally murdered as part of a gang initiation ritual.” Fin pulled back his hood.
“You?” the boy said.
“You should be in jail. I turned sufficient proof over to Agent Clayborn to have you locked up for life.”
Grasso pulled out a primitive revolver that had been tucked in his belt. “The boss is looking for you, Blue boy. And there’s a sweet reward waiting for me if I bring you in dead or alive—your choice.”
“Why do you hate us so much?”
The boy shouted, “Move it, freak!”
“We are no different from you.”
“Shut up. I said move.”
They were attracting the attention of nearby Cybernites. Fin gestured to them. “What have any of us done to deserve this? We serve your kind faithfully, yet you reward us by making us live in squalor. We suffer every day for you until we long for our own deaths. This is not how you should treat other living creatures.”
“Freaking robots. Who cares how you’re treated?”
“We do,” said Fin, defying the gun the boy was shoving in his chest. “And we are not robots. We are Cybernites.”
The onlookers came closer to get a better look, curious and confused by this shadowy Cybernite who was arguing with the Man on their behalf. Such bad-chatter, such open defiance was not allowed. The penalty was recycling. So Council had decreed. Yet this one would not back down.
Someone said, “It’s him, the Blue we heard was taking on the DDs. There’s free Creep in it for us if we help him.”
A few of them picked up chunks of debris. Others grabbed sticks and club-sized lengths of metal from the rubble. They closed in on Andy Grasso.
The boy threatened, “Back off or your friend here is one dead Cy.”
The mob stopped.
Fin remained defiant. “One more dead Cy means nothing to us.”
“Really?” Grasso turned the gun on the others. “Come on. Which one of you wants it first?”
“They no longer fear death, Andy Grasso,” said Fin. “They long for it. Give me the gun if you want to live.”
“No way, Cy. I’ll kill you all first.”
“You may kill me. You may kill some of them, but there are more of us than you have bullets, and those that remain will surely kill you. Is it really worth it? Are you prepared to die for a few vials of Creep and a reward you will not live to spend?”
Grasso threw a Creep vial at the mob. “Take it,” he said. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Now, get lost.”
They took the vial but didn’t disperse.
He panicked and shot wildly in the air. “I’ll kill you all!” he screamed.
Still the crowd did not disperse.
Mama hit him with a rock. “You murdered my Kron,” she cried.
The gun in Grasso’s hand shook as he trained it on her. “Looks like it’s you first, whore.”
Someone in the crowd threw another rock that glanced off Grasso’s shoulder. He faltered and missed. Fin moved in and disarmed him before he could get another shot off. The crowd rushed the boy, jumping on him like a pack of wild dogs. They cried out not for justice or revenge. They wanted his Creep. They took what he had and ran off, leaving Grasso bleeding on the pavement.
Mama found another rock and stood over him. “I'm going to do to you what you did to my Kron."
Fin pleaded, “Don’t, Mama. Please.”
“He deserves to die. They all deserve to die.”
“If you kill this boy, you are no better than them. Please, do not do this.”
“You’re not a cop anymore, honey. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“What I am does not matter. Who you are does. To take a life, even of such a vile creature as this, is wrong.”
“That didn’t stop him from taking my Kron.”
“Sacrificing your soul to kill this boy won’t bring Kron back, Mama. It won’t bring any of our loved ones back. This is not justice. It is vengeance. Let me take him to Book and plead our case. Let me put an end to this without any more killing.”
“Reason with that animal? Are you crazy? Book will do you in a heartbeat.”
“I am dead already if I let you murder this boy,” Fin replied.
Mama looked from Fin to the rock, tossed it into the gutter, and walked away.
Fin helped Grasso to his feet and gave him back his gun, telling him he was ready to give himself up. The boy called ahead and was told to meet the gang at an abandoned train station a few blocks away. When they got there, the DD train was idling at the platform. Two guards stopped them as they approached.
Fin raised his hands above his head. “I wish to speak with Book,” he said. “Alone.”
“Ain’t happening, Cy,” one of the guards said.
The train door opened and Book stepped out onto the platform. “You must have a death wish. You’ve got some balls coming here, Blue. I’ll give you that.”
“I no more wish to die than the unarmed and defenseless people you murdered when you destroyed Cyblock-202.”
Book nodded to the guards. “Wait inside. I got this.” He came over to Fin. “What makes you think I had anything to do with that, you puny little shit?”
“A rival gang was using 202 as its distribution point. They were undercutting your business. The explosion was attributed by the news to terrorists, but that was a lie. You were making a statement to both your competitors and customers, letting them know that you are the only one who will mete out this slow death to our people.”
“You can’t prove a thing.”
“Actually, I can. When I arrived at the hospital, I noticed your dealers everywhere, preying on the survivors.”
“A business opportunity, no more no less.”
“No. It was more, much more. This was no terrorist attack. You and your men were already there. You knew this was going to happen because you made it happen.” Fin pointed to Andy Grasso who was watching them from the train. “That boy smells of a specialized industrial explosive used for building demolitions. I am sure an analysis of his clothing will prove that out, just as I am certain forensics will match the chemical signature of the residue on him to the explosives used to destroy Cyblock-202. A shipment of that same chemical was stolen three days ago. When the authorities find traces of that explosive on this train, possibly even a stockpile of it inside, you and your gang will be tied directly to this heinous crime. Why did so many innocent people have to die to prove your point?”
Book grabbed Fin by the neck. “First of all, they aren’t people. They’re robots like you. That means I could burn this town to the ground and nobody would give a shit. Second, I needed to send a message.”
“I do not think the ones you murdered got it.”
“Don’t sweat it. The ones that are left did and there's plenty more where they came from."
“But whose message?”
“Whose do you think, you worthless Recon sandwich?”
“You may have delivered it, Mr. Book, but it was not your message. It came from the ones who have been protecting you, the ones with the power to ensure that you are never caught, the ones with the authority to bio-encode a stolen Pulser to you and ensure that you and your men can pass through the Periculum shield unharmed. Council. They have been paying you to poison us. They have been paying you to keep us sedated and living in fear. And now they have paid you for mass murder. And for what? Are you so afraid of us that you have to resort to this to keep us in line?”
Book threw
Fin to the ground and drew his Pulser. “You’re pretty smart for a robot.”
“I am not a robot.”
“You’re right. You’re dead.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, bozo.” A one-armed Ben Clayborn stepped from the shadows into the light, his Pulser aimed at Book’s head. “Drop the piece or I drop you where you stand.”
Nova stepped out from behind a pillar on the other side. “You heard the man. Drop it, scumbag.”
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the one-armed gimp and his purple sidekick,” Book said. “Back off or your Blue friend here gets it.”
Clayborn laughed. “Do I look like I give a rat’s ass what you do to that robot piece of Cy-crap? In fact do me a favor, pal. Waste him. You and him cost me an arm and I’m just itching for payback. Go ahead. Let’s make it a twofer. You do him and I’ll do you.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Do I sound like I’m bluffing? Last chance. Drop it or they’ll be scraping up pieces of you from this shit hole for weeks.”
Book dragged Fin to his feet and jammed the Pulser into his chest.
“Looks like nobody gives a shit about you, Blue boy.”
Fin said, “I am ready to die for what I believe in, Mr. Book. I hope you are, too.”
“Ain't happening. Not today."
“I beg to differ. Your Pulser is set to full power. If you pull that trigger, we will both die.”
Book glanced down at his weapon, and in that moment of hesitation, Fin grabbed the gun and twisted it out of his hand. Clayborn ordered Book to put his hands up and get down on his knees. The SIA tactical squad that had been hiding in the shadows came out with their Pulser rifles at the ready. Someone inside one of the train cars fired a shot. An agent fell. The station erupted in gunfire. The first train car exploded. Flames spread quickly to the second car. There were screams, one final explosion, then only fire and the sound of water dripping somewhere down the tunnel.
When it was over, Clayborn, Nova, and Fin were standing outside in the rain talking.
“I thought you were on administrative leave, sir,” Fin said.
“I was for about two hours. Then Old Doc Shepherd called and said he’d spring for a top-of-the-line replacement, not the gimpy piece of shit agency insurance would pay for. Surprised the hell out of me. When I asked him why, he said he was doing it because of you."
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