by Isamu Fukui
* * *
When my brother Zyid, leader of the Truancy, spoke to you as I do now, he begged for peace. He warned us that our cycle of escalating violence could only bring us to mutual ruin. We did not heed his words. We did not learn that most important lesson, as he had hoped we would. That cycle has spun out of our control, and now we bear witness to its conclusion.
“I do not believe that this end was inevitable. Had we all been a little wiser and a little less proud, we might have had peace. Mankind at its best, after all, is capable of overcoming great differences. No, I do not believe that this end was inevitable—yet it is the one that we have chosen for ourselves. May future generations learn from our folly.
“I know that I myself am not blameless in this matter. Against my better judgment I allowed myself to perpetuate the conflict. When I should have helped to calm passions, I helped enflame them. Where I should have compromised, I was stubborn. And when I should have made a stand against what I knew to be wrong, I was weak, and I failed.
“Now that failure has been unfairly passed on to this City. Citizens, this is truly your last stand—not against an enemy, or for a particular cause, but for your very lives. You put down your differences in the face of what you perceived to be a common enemy. I ask you now to cooperate with that enemy in the face of total annihilation.”
Deep beneath the Mayoral Mansion, in the secret shuttle terminal meant only for the sitting Mayor, Umasi let out a sigh that echoed throughout the City. He leaned forward in his chair, microphone still raised to his lips.
“Soldiers throughout the City, in defiance of their highest superiors, are now waiting to assist your evacuation. Having lost everything, we are left only with our common humanity. We can choose to embrace that bond—or when the dust settles, we can lose even that.
“The choice now is yours alone. From this moment onwards I step down as your Mayor. I was never fit to hold that office.”
Now Umasi hesitated. He looked to his left, where Zen stood waiting patiently on the platform. The child waved at him.
“And to milady, if you are listening to this.” Umasi swallowed. “We are safe, and we love you.”
With that Umasi put the microphone down and reached forward to switch off the broadcast. The system had been installed generations ago in case the Mayor ever had to make an emergency broadcast before fleeing. This was the first time that it had been used.
Umasi was glad now that he had ignored the warning from Colonel Hines and chosen to linger in the safety of the terminal. Iris had sent him a text message updating him on the dire situation. He had then taken it upon himself to issue the final warning to the people of the City.
As Umasi stood up, he briefly wondered why Iris hadn’t spoken to him with her voice. Then he shrugged and decided to ask her whenever he saw her again.
“Are we leaving now, dad?” Zen asked.
Umasi nodded. “Yes, if you want to.”
“I want to,” Zen said quickly.
Umasi smiled and took Zen’s hand, leading him over to the shuttle that was waiting on the tracks. He had been learning lately how to ask Zen for his opinion before making decisions that involved him—it was a habit of his mother, or so Zen had explained.
The shuttle resembled a sleek train car, except there was only one car with seats for six people. There wasn’t much of a cockpit, just a single lever and a red button that Umasi assumed was the emergency brake. Umasi quickly entered the shuttle behind Zen, his mind focused solely on getting his son to safety.
Then Umasi pulled the lever, and the doors slid shut behind them. As the shuttle began to move into a dark tunnel, Umasi sat back in a seat, watching Zen curl up next to him. Only then did he allow himself to worry about the evacuation, and the hundreds of thousands of people still trapped in the City.
Umasi sighed. He hoped that somehow the bridges and tunnels could be opened before it was too late.
* * *
His feet numb from climbing, Cross glanced at the nearest speaker as they passed it by. The Mayor’s voice echoed throughout the stairwell. As a Government building, Penance Tower was fully connected to the City intercom system.
The Mayor’s speech had begun somewhere around the seventy-eighth floor. Now Cross and his companion were on the ninety-fifth, and it was drawing to a close.
“And to milady, if you are listening to this … we are safe, and we love you.”
Cross blinked at that, and then turned to the albino, who somehow managed to look graceful even as she was climbing the stairs.
“Does that mean anything to you, teacher?” he asked.
The albino smiled, a momentary look of happiness crossing her face.
“It means that I can breathe a little easier,” she replied. Then she shook her head. “But it also means that we have to hurry. The evacuation is already starting.”
Before Cross could press her again about the Mayor and his speech, the stairs abruptly flattened out for a final time. Cross turned to see the number 100 painted on the wall. The stairs didn’t seem to go any farther. He halted, leaning against the handrail, panting slightly. After the countless steps he had climbed, Cross’ legs felt like they might fall off at any moment.
“This is only the hundredth floor,” the albino observed, pausing beside him. “I guess this stairway won’t take us to the observation spire.”
Cross nodded. “I’d heard that the spire wasn’t open to the public. It makes sense, if all the important controls are there.”
“Still, there must be a way up,” the albino said. “Come, let’s check the floor we’re on.”
She opened the door, and Cross followed her inside. They found themselves in a large square-shaped room with glass windows all around. None of the lights seemed to be functioning, though they weren’t needed—a bright green glow filtered eerily through the windows on all sides. The floodlights, Cross realized, must have already been left behind on a lower floor.
“Beautiful,” the albino whispered.
Cross glanced at her. She was staring out of one of the windows, silhouetted against the green light, her palm against the glass. Cross walked over to her side. Then he looked out of the window and gasped.
Through the streaks of water running down the glass, through the haze of rain outside, the rest of the City could still be seen from up here. The view was unlike anything Cross had ever imagined. Rooftops from a thousand unique buildings formed patterns that seemed both artistic and organic. The faint lines of roads streaked through the city, cutting it up into geometric shapes. Entire blocks were reduced to intricate squares. Dark skyscrapers pointed proudly upwards, contributing to the sprawling vista, all contained by the vast rivers around the City.
It was a breathtaking sight, dark, yet tinted green by the floodlights as Cross and the albino stared downwards. The rain seemed to be falling in sheets now, catching the light, like an emerald curtain fluttering in the winds.
“I never knew,” Cross said. “I mean, I’d never thought about how big the whole City was, how it would look from up here. Amazing.”
The albino nodded. “It’s such a shame.”
Cross knew what she meant. He too felt a great sadness in his heart as he remembered that everything they were looking at, everything they had known in their lives, would soon vanish forever. How majestic, how grand was the City from here—and yet as fleeting and temporary as all mortal designs in the end.
The albino sighed, then pulled away and pointed at the river, where the dark shapes of the bridges were still visibly raised.
“I’m glad that we could see this, just once before it’s too late,” she said. “But those bridges are what we came for. We can’t lose focus now.”
Cross nodded. “You’re right. Let’s look for a way up.”
Quickly they searched the floor. An elevator in the center seemed to provide access to the spire, but they couldn’t get it to work. Then they found what they were looking for; a door to another stairway labeled “Restri
cted Access.”
The albino tried the knob and found it locked. Cross tried kicking the door down, but only succeeded in hurting his foot. They both pushed and pulled to no avail. Finally, frustrated, Cross raised his rifle and tried shooting the door. Dents appeared in the metal surface and the handle bent out of shape, yet the door remained firm.
“It’s no good.” Cross panted. “It won’t open.”
The albino sighed. “I guess we only have one option left, then.”
“What’s that?”
The albino walked over to Cross and gestured for him to give her the rifle. Confused, Cross complied. Then the albino turned towards one of the windows and fired.
Before Cross could yell his protest, the glass shattered and the storm outside burst into the room with a terrific roar. Cross raised his arms to shield his face as the sudden wind and rain battered his body.
“Are you crazy?” Cross shouted over the howling gale.
The albino tossed the rifle aside and began walking towards the newly created opening. Her face was determined as she pushed forward against the wind.
“It’s the only hope we have of getting up there!” she shouted back. “There’s no other choice!”
“You are crazy!”
The albino ignored him, stepping onto a small ledge and into the fury of the storm. The rain drenched her even as the powerful winds threatened to blow her off her tenuous perch. Her Student Militia jacket fluttered violently, and the albino reached up to unbutton it, letting it fly away.
Cross stared at her in shock. Then he snapped out of it and followed. As he stepped through the broken window the wind seemed to double in intensity, the sheer force of it striking him like a hammer. The rain stung his face like little needles, and he was quickly soaked from head to toe. Cross had never felt so cold in his life. He looked down, and then away, dizzied by the height. If they slipped, they would be falling for a long, long time.
The albino was now standing farther down the ledge, looking upwards at the roof, illuminated by the green floodlights. They could see the cylindrical observation spire from here, but there was no obvious way to climb up to get to it.
“Teacher, it’s not possible!” Cross called. “We can’t do it this way, especially not in this storm!”
The albino shook her head. “We can’t give up!”
“We can find another way!” Cross shouted. “Teacher, please!”
The albino ignored him, unwinding her chain. She began twirling it, and then hurled it upwards. Cross’ breath caught in his throat as he realized what she was aiming at; a decorative spike protruding from the roof. A powerful gust blew the chain off course, screeching in their ears, and Cross reached out to grab the albino to prevent her from losing her balance.
“It’s too dangerous!” Cross yelled. “We’re both going to fall if we keep this up!”
The albino still ignored him, retrieving her chain and throwing it again. It was another miss, and Cross was about to pull her forcefully back inside when she threw the chain once more.
Cross watched in disbelief as this time the ring at the end of the chain caught perfectly onto the protruding spike.
There was a clap of thunder, and the albino turned to look at Cross triumphantly. Before he could even say a word, the albino wrapped her hands tightly around the chain, and then allowed herself to slip from the ledge.
Cross held his breath as the nameless girl began to rappel up the side of the building. She swayed dangerously in the air, at the complete mercy of the winds. Several times she was buffeted by gusts so strong that she was almost horizontal in the air. Yet the albino simply shut her eyes tight against the stinging rain and kept going, pulling herself up the slippery wet chain link by link.
A streak of lightning lit the skies, and Cross began to worry that a bolt might hit the albino as she climbed. Then, with a final tremendous effort, she managed to reach the top, and with the help of the wind she swung herself onto the roof. There she lay exhausted and soggy, the rain continuing to pour down onto her.
“Teacher! Are you all right?”
The albino opened her eyes and crawled to the edge of the roof. She peered over the edge as water trickled from her white mane.
“I’m fine!” she called.
Cross slumped in relief, and a strong gust nearly knocked him off his feet. He steadied himself against an unbroken window, looking up at his teacher.
“Okay, drop the chain down for me now!” he called.
The albino hesitated. She glanced at the spike, upon which the ring was still hooked. Then she looked at her hands, raw and blistered from her painful climb. The wind howled in her ears.
“Come on!” Cross shouted.
The albino shook her head sadly. There was another flash of lightning.
“I can handle it myself now!” she called. “Get out of the City, Cross! I want you to survive!”
Cross stared up at her. “Teacher, wait!”
But she had already unhooked the ring from the spike. With one last glance down at her student, the albino turned and vanished from sight as Cross’ desperate shouts were drowned out by the storm.
36
LIVE
The albino stood alone at the base of the spire, feeling very small amidst the fury of the elements. In spite of herself she shivered—the cold up here was worse than deep winter, the wetness seeming to soak her very bones.
The rooftop of Penance Tower was flat and square, the observation spire a cylindrical structure placed in its very center. The spire climbed an additional fifty feet above the rest of the building, scraping the heavens. The albino could see a set of dark windows on each side of the spire.
The floodlights below lit the atmosphere with their green glow. The girl shivered again as a fierce gust of wind battered her body.
Knowing what she had to do, knowing that the fate of the whole City rested in her hands, the albino pushed against the wind and stinging rain. Step by step she brought herself closer to the spire. A metal ladder ran up the side of the structure, leading to a door to the control room, and beyond that, to the roof of the spire.
Tentatively the albino gripped the ladder, and winced as her worn hands touched the rungs. Ignoring the pain, she kept climbing until she reached the door. Gasping for breath now, she grabbed the handle and turned. It was unlocked.
The albino breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled the door open and stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the noise of the storm. It was warmer inside, but dark. The girl patted the wall with her hand until she found a switch. She flicked it, and the lights came on.
The control room was circular, and dark. It wasn’t cramped, but it wasn’t very big either. There was a large locker leaning against the wall, with the elevator in the center. There were a number of dashboards all around the room. The windows offered an even greater view of the City, but there was no time to enjoy it.
The albino walked around the room in a circle, her clothes dripping rainwater onto the floor. She spotted controls to the water mains, electrical utilities, traffic lights, and other things she didn’t understand. Finally, she found the dashboard for the bridges and tunnels. There was a switch labeled “Open All Access.”
The albino nearly slumped in relief. She took a step towards the dashboard. Then she heard a noise behind her, and turned to investigate—
A gunshot went off.
Pain blossomed in the girl’s abdomen as a sudden force knocked her off her feet. Her back slammed against the dashboard. For a moment the albino didn’t understand what had happened. It felt like something had ripped her insides out. She looked down and saw crimson stains spreading on her wet clothes.
Then she looked up, and she understood.
Rothenberg grinned. “I finally got you, you little monster.”
The large man loomed over her, the large locker open behind him. There was a look of twisted delight on his face. The albino groaned as she slid down onto the floor. Rothenberg had i
ntentionally avoided killing her immediately. Clearly he wanted to savor this moment.
“I bet you regret trying to trick me now!” Rothenberg gloated. “You should’ve known that someday it’d come back to haunt you.”
The albino wasn’t listening. Panic and sadness settled in as she thought about the civilians in the streets below. She hadn’t flipped the switch. The people of the City were still trapped. The bridges—she had to lower the bridges.
Rothenberg’s grin turned into a frown as the albino struggled to rise. With tremendous effort she managed to turn herself around. Her arm scrabbled at the controls—
Rothenberg fired again.
The albino let out a cry as she slid down the dashboard, leaving a red streak on its surface. Her head turned weakly to look at Rothenberg.
Rothenberg smiled at the girl he had once believed to be a phantom. She looked so pathetic lying there; soggy, miserable, defeated. Rothenberg wondered how he had ever let her frighten him before.
Then to his surprise, the albino stirred again. She was still trying to move, in spite of the pain, in spite of her wounds. Her arm twitched feebly upwards, reaching for one of the controls—what was so important about those damn controls?
Frustrated, Rothenberg shot her again. The arm dropped, and the albino only had the strength left to whimper. Rothenberg laughed in triumph, and tried to fire once more. This time nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again, to no avail. The gun was out of bullets.
Rothenberg scowled and threw the gun aside. He didn’t need it anymore. Three shots had been enough. The girl now lay in a puddle of rainwater and blood. Her eyes seemed to stare up at him sadly. Rothenberg didn’t like that look; it was too much like pity. He wondered if the girl was even still alive. If she was, she didn’t have long.
“I knew you could be killed after all.” Rothenberg smiled. “This marks the beginning of my reign, girl. I heard the broadcast—it seems I will be the last Mayor of this City. Be honored that you are my first execution.”