He nods, but the worry seizing his face belies it.
I clap my hand on his shoulder, once, and let go. “She’s going to make it through this.” I say it with conviction, as if I can believe it into being true. “I have a sponsor for the Olympics, Cy.”
“What?” His face transforms like I’m the one having feverish dreams.
My mom moans. I ignore him and drop a knee to the floor by the tub. I press my fingers to her forehead. She’s still crazy hot. My heart pounds in my ears and panic starts to climb up my throat. Maybe the gen tech will kill her before it cures her. Maybe she won’t last long enough for me to rescue her with ascendance. I have no idea how I can possibly leave and compete with her like this. Her eyes blink open at my touch. She seems surprised to find herself in the tub. The water sloshes up the sides, startling her further.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly, my hand still on her forehead. “You’re okay. Cy brought you here to cool you down.”
She takes a shuddering breath. “Elijah.” Her voice flutters. It sounds like her life is escaping right out of her body, carried on that breathy sound. “I was afraid you had gone away.” She lifts her hand out of the water and lays it, cool and clammy, on mine, which is gripping the edge of the tub. “I think it must have been a dream.”
“I just stepped out for a lesson with Lenora.”
She nods her head in approval, eyes half closed. Art is the one thing she would forgive me being absent for.
“And… I’ve got some news.” My voice trembles. “I’m going to the Olympics.” I give her a smile, but it’s probably more farce than a grin.
Her eyes blink open. “You’re going to compete?” Her frown gathers water and sends it trickling down her face. I’ve never discussed the idea of competing with her—it just never seemed possible—but I know what she thinks of the Olympics. And it’s not good.
“Mom, I have to. It’s the only thing that…” That might save you. I can’t force the words out.
She turns, half rising out of the water, her hand locking onto mine. “You do not have to, Elijah. Ascending is dangerous. I don’t want to lose you!”
“Almost no one dies,” I say, knowing that won’t convince her at all. “And they’ll take you, too.” That part is a whisper.
“No!” Water splashes around her as she struggles to sit up in the tub.
“Mom, don’t.” I grip her thin arms as gently as I can. They’re burning hot under my palms. “You need to stay in the water until you cool down.”
“I will not allow you to do this for me, Elijah.” She struggles for a split second more, then she gives up and sinks back against the white-tiled edge of the tub. “You know I don’t want anything they have to give. And I won’t let them have you. You’re just starting to come into your own. Your art, Elijah…” She closes her eyes briefly, and I can tell this is taxing her when she can least afford it.
“I’ll continue my art. I promise.” I say it, but her eyes stay closed, and I know it doesn’t matter.
I shouldn’t have told her. I knew she would object: she despises how the ascenders use art to judge who’s “worthy” to join them. But I can’t help thinking that, once her son was one of them, she would have to change her mind. She would have to see all the good they do. And how nothing would be closed off to me anymore. I could make art, literally, forever. I could do anything. Even if she refused to ascend with me, she would qualify. She would no longer be legacy. Which would mean I could cure her. Strip her of the disease that’s killing her. And that’s just the beginning. I could master the fugue and fulfill all that potential she’s convinced I have. I could show Lenora I’m worthy of being more than just a pet to her. Everything would be within my reach. And eventually… given enough time… I could convince my mom to join me. We would both live forever.
With that possibility dangling in front of me, I can’t let her die in a bathtub. No matter what she says.
She sucks in a breath and struggles to open her eyes. “You will lose the one thing that belongs to you, Elijah. The one thing that matters.”
I sigh, and silently curse the ancient religion that’s convinced her of this. “Mom, you won’t lose your soul when you ascend. That’s just superstitious talk.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know…” Her voice is fading. Her eyelids flutter. “You don’t understand… so much, Elijah. I won’t let you compete. I won’t allow it.” But her voice is weak.
My gut is twisted in knots.
Her eyelids slowly close. “You’re so special. My Elijah. You were created to… to do great things…” Her voice fades, and under her closed eyelids, she falls into that feverish dream mode again. I’m afraid I’ve taken whatever energy she had with this pointless argument.
“Mom.” I blink back tears and give her arms a small shake.
Her eyes open again, but only half way. “I can’t lose you to them. Not now.” Then her voice fades again, like she’s falling asleep, and her eyes drift closed.
I hold my breath and watch her. The water laps at her body as her chest slowly rises and falls. I wait until I’m convinced she’s not… dying. That she’s just fallen asleep.
I stand, half drenched like Cyrus.
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Eli.” The word is laden with the ones he’s not saying.
I turn to him. “She’s going to hate me, Cy.”
A grimace tortures his face. “No, she’s not. She loves you, man.”
I look back to her, drenched and already hovering near death. “How can I do this? How can I even think of going off to compete and leaving her like this?”
His hand squeezes my shoulder. “If you really have a chance to do this, you’ve got to take it. If anyone was meant to compete, it’s you.”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t know. She’s going to hate me for even trying this. If I manage to win, if I become of one them… she’s going to hate me more.”
“At least she’ll be around to hate you.”
I nod. My stomach is a spasming ball of guilt. But he’s right: I have to do this. Maybe, eventually, she’ll forgive me.
“You know what I’m going to hate?” Cyrus says, his voice lighter. “You as an ascender. I mean, for the love of all that’s tech, you’re arrogant enough as it is.”
I laugh, even though it feels like the tears are going to gush out if I do.
“But you know I’m all in on this, right?” he adds softly. “Whatever you need, man, I’m here to help.”
That chokes off my laugh. I know Cyrus is suspicious of everything the ascenders do—and not just because he makes a living off skirting their laws. His grandfather was a believer, just like my mom, which meant he was always looking over his shoulder for a police bot. The fact that Cyrus is willing to help me with this…
I give him a small nod. “I need someone to help me figure out how to win this thing, Cy.”
“Is there a way to cheat? Because I’m an expert at that.”
I smile. “No… at least, I don’t think so.” Although if there is, I have no doubt Cyrus will find it for me. “But I think I know how to make sure my mom is taken care of while I’m gone.”
“Oh?” Cyrus glances at my mom’s trembling body in the water. “How’s that?”
“My sponsor.” I take a deep breath as that sinks in. Marcus is possibly the last person in the world I would want for a sponsor, but I can’t afford to be picky about who sends me to the Olympics. “I don’t know why, or what’s in it for him, but I think my sponsor wants me to win as much as I do.”
Which makes no sense, but the ascenders rarely make sense. They’re capricious, and like Cyrus says, they always have their own reasons for things. The vagaries of the gods aren’t meant to be understood by mere mortals. Whatever Marcus’s reason, it probably has very little to do with me and everything to do with some ascender drama that I’ll never understand. Maybe once I ascend, I’ll figure it out. For now, I don’t care.
Cyrus’s eyebrows
lift. “Him? So your hot patron isn’t sponsoring you?” He folds his beefy arms across his chest, like he’s not sure I’m telling the truth anymore.
“The point is, he says he can get us whatever we need to do this.”
“Whatever we need?” Cyrus’s interest goes up three levels. The ascenders may have their own interests at heart, but Cyrus is right behind them with that.
I scowl. “Meaning help for my mom, not a way to feed Riley’s black market trade.”
Cyrus grunts, but he nods. “Sounds like you need to get your shiny pants sponsor over here and see what he’s good for.”
It’s been twenty minutes since I called Marcus, and he’s still not here.
I pace the bathroom, all five feet of water-slopped floor and tension, while Cyrus and I wait for Marcus to show. But each minute that ticks by, each nearly-silent slosh in the tub while my mother fights her fever, convinces me Lenora’s second will change his mind. That this is some kind of cruel ascender prank. Or more likely, a spat between ascender lovers, where I’m an inconsequential pawn to be cast aside the moment they link up in one of those otherworldly embraces.
My teeth grind as I pace.
I wonder if Marcus was serious about the other ascenders, the ones who would sponsor me, even if he didn’t. How would I find them? Maybe I could go through ArtNet. I certainly can’t contact Orion on my own. Even if I could, the Olympics are almost here. I can’t imagine making this work so quickly with another ascender. It’s like they exist in another world, separated by tech and time and space from the one inhabited by the unwashed remnants of humanity.
Because that’s what we are, no matter what pet names they call us.
It’s taking too long.
I’m about to lose hope, when I hear the faint swish of the front door opening. Only I didn’t tell the building bot to let anyone in.
Cyrus’s voice jumps in from the front room. “Hey! Ever heard of—whoa.” He’s never seen an ascender in person, as far as I know. Most legacies haven’t.
With a quick glance at my mom, I hurry out to the front.
Cyrus is staring gape-mouthed, but not at Marcus: there’s a humanoid bot behind him, dressed in nursing scrubs. It looks like an ascender, except for the uniform metallic-blue tint to its ungendered bodyform, which indicates it has low-level sentience. I’ve never seen one in person before, either, but I know it’s a huge step up from the standard med bots at the hospital that normally care for legacies.
Marcus ignores Cyrus’s stunned expression. “Eli, I trust this level of home care will be sufficient for your mother. I understand she’s in the last stages of her lymphoma.”
My mouth runs dry. He’s so casual, as if this isn’t a death sentence that his kind has placed on her. Yet, I can’t hate him completely. He’s brought the finest in human medical care right into my home, away from the prying eyes of Orion’s health care system. Private homecare. It’s something I could never begin to afford—only the most pampered domestics have them—and Marcus is tossing it to me like it’s a speck of dust he’s brushed off his shoulder.
“That will be fine,” I manage. “Thank you.”
“Where is your mother?” Marcus asks.
I gesture down the hall, and the med bot glides by, its eyes roused to attention now that it’s been given a task. I watch it close the bathroom door, and a nameless fear lurches my heart. I’m three steps down the hall before Marcus’s voice stops me.
“Eli.”
I loathe the way he calls me Eli when Lenora will only use my full name. I force myself to turn back.
Marcus’s skin tone is back to a more normal beige—he’s not masking his emotions anymore—and a streak of dark blue intensity flashes across it. “You will need all of your attention for the competition.”
Cyrus stands next to him, still wide-eyed, but he gives me a small nod of agreement. My brain tilts sideways at the sight of the two of them, side by side, urging me on.
“I understand,” I say.
“Do you?” Marcus asks coolly. “Somehow I doubt that. But your mother will be well cared for, and we need to leave. That is, if you’re fully committed to the competition. I can’t sponsor you otherwise.”
“I’m committed,” I say, grinding it out. I don’t trust Marcus. At all. Whatever is behind his eagerness for me to compete, it’s not an appreciation for my art. He’s getting something else out of this. I don’t know what, but at this point, I have no choice but to take what he’s offering. “When do we leave?”
“Immediately.” Marcus’s impatience shows in more flashes of blue intensity across his bare chest. I can even see the streaks of color through the thin fabric of his shorts. I’m really hoping at some point he’ll decide to wear clothes.
I gesture to my best friend. “I’ll need Cyrus to come with me.”
Marcus doesn’t look at him. “Mr. Kowalski may come. You can bring any support you wish, but we must leave now.”
Cyrus frowns, finally breaking out of his shock to give Marcus the critical eye he deserves. “What’s the hurry?”
Marcus gives an elaborate sigh, which rubs me five ways wrong. Ascenders don’t breathe—sure they can suck in air, but it’s just one of their five thousand ways of sampling the world. Sighing is pure drama.
I’m not impressed.
Marcus glances at Cyrus but returns his steady-eyed stare to me. “You are at a distinct disadvantage. Most of the competitors have been at Agon for months. I had to make a special petition for your late entry. There was much resistance. You need to prove them wrong by coming up to speed as quickly as possible.”
He thinks I’m going to embarrass him. My ears get hot. “Fine. I’ll just grab some things—”
“You cannot bring anything with you. Besides, everything you need will be provided.” Again the sigh. “I can see you have even more to learn than I thought. If Mr. Kowalski is ready, he can come. Otherwise, you’ll have to manage without him.”
Cyrus’s eyes are wide again. Marcus is serious: he wants us to walk out the door this instant.
I shake my head at Cyrus. “I can’t ask you to just drop everything and follow me—”
“Shut up. You’d be lost without me.” Cyrus runs his hand across his face then tosses a smirk to Marcus. “Besides, shiny pants here says he’ll provide us with everything we’ll need. You’ll want me to help you out with the particulars on that.”
I grin. Cyrus will find a way to pilfer some kind of tech from Marcus’s largess. Which just might keep Riley from firing him if he runs off with me to the Olympics for a while. It won’t be too long—with the competition starting in a couple days, we’ll know soon enough whether I’ve won or not.
“I’ve already arranged for transport.” Marcus dashes to the door so fast, I barely see him go. Then he stops suddenly at the threshold, gripping the doorframe and waiting. I’m afraid he’ll put a dent in the frame with his apparent frustration. I get the feeling that, unlike Lenora, he doesn’t deal with legacies very often. And I’m beginning to realize that my view of ascenders might have been colored, just a bit, by spending time with one who chose to live near legacies. As much as they supposedly treasure us, most ascenders stay far away.
Cyrus glances back to the closed door of the bathroom, where my mother fights her fever and her disease… and where a slightly sentient bot is probably providing better medical care than either of us ever could. The torment on his face tears at me, but he shuffles toward Marcus waiting at the door, watching to see if I’m following.
My shoes are suddenly filled with lead. I can’t say goodbye—it will only upset my mother again, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave. She’ll despise me when she wakes up to find I’ve gone for real this time, and for something she’s explicitly forbidden me to do. But while the bot can tame her fever and keep her comfortable, it can’t give her the one thing she needs: a new life.
I turn back to Marcus and Cyrus at the door and wrench myself forward.
Not sayin
g goodbye is the least of the things I’ll need her forgiveness for.
The rain has lifted, and stark sunshine glares from every water-beaded surface. We speed toward the outer rim of Seattle in a taxi bot Marcus summoned. The taxi’s dust-free shininess speaks to the ascender clientele it normally serves. Legacy humans are stuck with the tram, sun-powered bikes, or our own mortal shoe-covered feet.
Marcus, Cyrus, and I are speeding toward a rail station I’ve heard of but never seen. It’s an ascender-only high speed line that connects Seattle to Los Angeles. Ascenders usually travel over the net, uploading to Orion then downloading to a rental bodyform—Lenora takes several trips a year that way—but the high speed rail lets ascenders take their custom bodyforms on travel instead. After all, they’re sensation junkies. They live to soak up those enhanced inputs, and rental bodies apparently aren’t as good for that—at least, that’s what Lenora tells me. Ascenders get where they need to go with high-speed rails and taxi bots and personal flight craft for more remote destinations.
The weed-cracked roads outside the cities are left to the humans.
Not that we use them much either. Highways still crisscross the country like a skeleton left to bleach in the sun, and oil flows faster than ever with new ascender tech, but after the Singularity, personal cars and the fuel infrastructure they need died from lack of use. The ascenders found better and cleaner ways to travel, as well as a dozen new methods of producing energy. If there’s one thing the ascenders are good at, it’s making sure the power stays on. Then they built a half dozen legacy cities around the world, designed just for their treasured humans’ biological needs—food, shelter, waste treatment, and medical care. The ascenders figured we would stay put. Not that they actually care what humans do—they don’t lock us into legacy cities any more than people lock rats into a sewer. The police bots just keep the human rats out of the ascenders’ sparkling-clean cities and let the humans nest wherever they can scratch a living from the earth.
The Legacy Human (Singularity #1) (Singularity Series) Page 6