Desmond stepped onto the platform, keeping his distance from her. His suit was expensive, trim and a little eccentric. He fit in as someone's assistant, sent out to run some errand for his employer.
Sela had been relieved to find out Desmond would be staying close during this part of the task. She didn't trust Leon Wallis at all. She knew to not trust him. And he was so good at getting under her skin, Sela knew it would even be dangerous to trust herself around him.
Everyone planning the mission agreed that Sela should be shadowed. Desmond was there to keep an eye on her, ready to muscle in, if Leon became difficult. Desmond was there to protect her, which only half-settled the queasy anxiety in her stomach.
A magtrain slid along the elevated rail, the cars thumping softly together as it came to a rest beside the platform. The doors opened with a whisper-hiss. Passengers stepped off and threaded around those waiting to board.
Sela felt more eyes burrow into her like hot coals. She looked down assiduously, avoiding the stares, as those people filed toward the stairwell.
No one paid any attention to Desmond though. And that was good. He was inconspicuous and would remain hidden entirely, unless Sela needed him.
Once the people in front of Sela boarded, she stepped into a car, stepped tentatively. She had selected the car that looked emptiest; only a third of the seats were occupied.
Sela moved toward a seat in an empty section near the front. Desmond stepped in behind her, pretending to ignore her. He took a seat of his own halfway up the car.
Then the doors whisked shut, and the magtrain purred into motion.
This wasn't the same transit system as the underground rail cars. This train didn't split up, and it did not go to those grimy, underclass areas of Megora. It was essentially a transportation system exclusively for those favored by the Council. How best to keep the unwashed masses away, than to build a tram that never went where they were?
Sela pressed back into the cushion of the seat, feeling it cradle her shoulders, wrap gently around her side, and form perfectly around her legs. The interior of the car was polished and tidy.
Windows on all sides offered decent views of the thoroughfare. The elevated track was only about thirty feet above the street, which was not high enough to see above any of the buildings.
In this area though, the view was still nice. She could see granite tile sliding past below. People draped with the latest fashion went their separate ways. There was a street artist sketching portraits for customers. A string-quartet was performing, probably doing some eccentric version of a rock song, by the looks of it. Shop fronts glowed with videos playing within their glass panels.
A million distractions during the middle of a work day. Sela didn't have to wonder what this district looked like during the weekend. When she was seventeen, she and a few friends used to come down out of the Tower and stroll around places like this.
It was like a festival every Saturday. Live music and dancing, out in the public squares. Activities and games and food and theater and magicians and scientific demonstrations. There was always far more than one person could experience in a single day, so why not do the same thing every weekend?
Sela turned away from the window. Eyes were upon her again, molten steel and laser beams. A little girl whispered to her mother and pointed at Sela. The two were just behind Desmond. The woman shushed her daughter and pretended Sela didn't exist.
Sela sighed, her face flushing. She confined her view to her hands, folded in her lap.
She was nervous, and for good reason. The response from her cousin had been curt. One single sentence, "Where and when do you want to meet?" followed by his automatic signature; his name and rank in the Guides.
No 'Hi Sela,' or 'Long time, no Sela.' That sort of joke was not Leon's way. She had heard it from other friends during high school. Never from Leon.
The Vines had composed the reply for her, since it was not a personal task at that point. They were to meet on this train, and Sela would guide her cousin to a place where she felt ‘safe to talk’. It was a nook-in-the-wall restaurant, on the border between a favored district and a not-so district.
Some months ago, the place had nearly gone out of business. The Vines bought it and propped up the meager sales. The back rooms were converted into a safe-house for agents.
Sela had gone there this morning. And before she had left to board the elevated train, she had spent hours studying maps and photographs of locations.
Routes between train stops and the safe house were seared into her mind. There was no way she could lose the way. And if she did, Desmond was there to help out. He could pass them on the street and guide Sela from a few hundred feet ahead.
He had an incredible knowledge of Megora, as though he spent every spare moment exploring the tangles of streets and tunnels and crystalline buildings. He probably could draw a reasonably accurate map of the city from memory, Sela guessed.
The train came to a stop. Passengers got off and others got on. She and Desmond both stayed in their seats. Leon was not among those boarding, at least not in this car. He would look through the cars, if he had boarded in another.
As expected, all the new passengers gave Sela a wide berth, as though she was leprous or drooling. She felt the heat of a blush rise in her face again, felt ashamed, and felt angry that she felt ashamed. She hated the contempt in the glares angled her way from the corner of people's eyes.
She squeezed her hands together, crossing fingers. Took deep breaths with her eyes closed. Her heart rate was pounding. Nervousness and frustration and fear were getting the better of her. But her time ghosting identities and running jobs for Max Gaines had helped her develop some methods for calming herself.
Deep slow breaths and calming thoughts slowed her heart rate. Her chest didn't feel so tight now, and even the warmth was leaving her face.
These people on the train didn't matter, or at least their opinions didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Leon to follow her to the diner. It would be kept empty, the door locked and the sign flipped to “Closed”, until a spotter radioed that Sela and Leon were almost there.
They would… capture him… Sela thought. She didn't know how they planned to do it. They would also have to do something to neutralize his RFID tag, a tag that every Guide had implanted somewhere on their body.
And then the safe-house would be abandoned permanently. An RFID tag cutting out was not so uncommon, Michelle had said. The transmitters were weak and often malfunctioned. But when it became clear that Leon Wallis was missing, the Guides would ransack the last location reported by his tag.
Sela had to admit, it had not become easier, thinking about her cousin being held for this odd ransom. She also didn't like thinking about what would happen to Leon after the Conference. She had not asked, and that detail had not been volunteered to her.
Her father was right. It challenged her moral view, even though she didn't like Leon. Wasn't the disgraceful thing about the Remaking the way it treated people? The way the Guides could break any skull they felt like? How could she say that her worldview was better, if it took doing the same thing to the Council?
She didn't have an answer for that problem. Only had the thinnest of suppositions. If the Council treats people this way, then they're justifying retaliation in kind. It was flimsy at best.
There was no choice, though.
Her eyes had been closed for almost a minute now. The tug of momentum indicated they were curving around a bend. It felt smooth.
"Sela."
She looked up and there stood Leon, tall and thin, one arm gripping the standing rail overhead his body a step out of the doorway linking to the next car. His face still hinted at youth, not quite rid of the baby fat in his cheeks.
But he was not a child anymore, and he held himself with that same superior air. It fit him better now, and Sela realized just how the Council could be so brazen as to declare exactly how everyone else should live.
"Leon,
" Sela choked out. Her throat felt almost a fossil, dry and patchy, like it was caked with flour.
There was someone else behind him, moving to slide into the car.
A panic gripped Sela's chest again, that sudden surge of pressure, tightening like a vise. Uncle Steffen smiled down at Sela, the way he had back when she was a little girl.
"Hello Sela. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
There was no way to keep the shock out of her eyes. How could he be here? He was way too important, too busy with the preparations for the Conference. Steffen Wallis was the reason the Vines wanted to capture Leon Wallis. He couldn't be here!
A swirling, swimming dizziness torqued through Sela's mind. She only managed a jittery grin, "Yuh… Yeah, it h-has been."
Leon remained standing, staring at her like she was some caged rodent and not a relative. He had always looked at her that way, the way a cat plays with a mouse before the claws come out and shred it.
Steffen sat down though, on Sela's left side. She stared at him, frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.
"I understand you've had a rough time these past few months," Steffen started, his tone compassionate and oily, like always. He manipulated people too, but he did it with feigned kindness, while his son was simply cold and cruel. "What has it been? Eleven or twelve months?"
"Thirteen," Sela whispered the number and then swallowed.
"Thirteen!" he arched his eyebrows. "That's a long time to be out on your own, at your age."
Leon who was younger stood and stared, not acknowledging the fact that he was also on his own. He had his own apartment and his own career.
"I know you've had a real struggle, trying to keep up with your bills." He was half turned in his seat, speaking in a fatherly tone that Sela couldn't imagine him using on Leon.
"And you know that you're always welcome in the Tower of Hope. We always have a place for those who sincerely believe in what we're doing for the world." He smiled and added, "We even have places for those who don't believe. We're not inhumane to people who make things… difficult."
Sela couldn't tell whether her uncle was lying to her or whether he actually believed what he was saying. She risked a glance to her right, caught Desmond's worried eye. He was still seated.
Steffen spoke again, drawing her gaze back, "Now, I know you have been worried sick about your parents. They are fine, Sela. I assure you of that."
She felt the hammering of her heart shudder her eyes as she stared into his. That was a lie, that right there!
"Y-Yes," she managed.
"Your father…" Steffen inhaled slowly and sighed. "My brother has had some… doubts about the Remaking. And I might add, doubts are not discouraged in Megora!" He smiled with curtained eyes.
She stared back, incredulous. He could not be trusted at all! The first time her uncle was trying to have an actual conversation with her as an adult, he was trying to manipulate her and lie to her. About her own parents!
"Your father's protests against the Remaking are permissible. We just want to make sure that he is making constructive criticism, instead of destructive criticism. So much," Steffen shifted in his seat to face Sela more. "So much progress has been made, it would be dangerous for anyone to speak of destruction!"
Sela glanced at Leon. He had hardly changed, his face a mask of ambivalence as he watched her, and listened to his father speak.
"But your family is alright, Sela. You know I would never let any harm come to you or your— No, our family!" the smile broadened, the eyebrows reached new heights.
"I was so sad to learn that you had run away, and I'm so happy that you've decided to come back," he chuckled, "Just wait until your father hears!"
The train slowed for another stop. Leon had to take a step to brace his footing. Steffen twisted and looked for the stop number. "Ah, in just another few stops, we can hop off and catch a ride into the Tower."
Sela's mind thundered protests, and her hands trembled in her lap. She couldn't go back to the Tower! Not now!
The plan was collapsing, crumbling before it really got under way. She had worked out some things to say to Leon to convince him to accompany her to the safe-house. That was also just a few stops away.
All of that was out the window now. Sela felt cramped, clustered, closed off from the world. She felt trapped and cornered and claustrophobic.
The passengers exchanged, as Sela's heart rate climbed. Her breath came short and rapid, and she fought to control it.
She had never thought her uncle would barge in on this operation! Why wasn't his time completely dominated by concerns of the Conference? He was in charge of so many different aspects of the event. He had to be too busy for this. Why was he here?!
Her fear was too great for any anger to surge up. All she could think was the word Wrong! It wasn't supposed to go this way! It wasn't!
As the train began moving again, door closed, the noise of people settling into their seats subsided. Light of the city outside streamed in, all of it a blur in Sela's eyes. She couldn't focus on anything but that one word.
Steffen smiled at her, "You've grown up since we last saw you." He reached out as though to move a strand of hair away from her eyes, and then thought better of it, pausing his hand in midair before retracting it.
"I remember you as a cute little girl who had more of her mother's features than her father." He shook his head, marveling at how time flies. "But now you're a young woman, a very pretty young woman."
The smile was genuine for a moment, "And I can see more of my brother in you now."
Sela could almost believe that somewhere within her uncle, a decency and goodness lurked, a care for familial ties. Whatever it was, wherever it was; layers upon layers covered over. That flash of humanity was gone now, replaced by a rampaging passion for the Remaking.
"But you've come to understand that wonder of the Remaking, Leon tells me! It was good that he came to me with your message."
Leon straightened his back, the rare moment of pride, rather than conceit. Pride meant you had to care what other people thought of you. Leon didn't, except for his father. Leon was too disdainful of everyone else to be proud.
"I trust that a little bit of practical experience in the city has shown you just how… just how much better things will be once the Remaking is complete."
"Complete?" Sela asked. She thought the Remaking was the will of the Council, meaning it would never end. It would shift goals and mess around with people's lives, but there would never be a time when the Council felt its work was done. Because the only task left would be for them to give up their power, which would never happen.
"Yes, complete!" Steffen laughed. "One day, things will be so perfect, they cannot be undone! No one will be able to dislike the world then, because it will be so wonderful!"
Something else glinted in his eyes now, a wildness or a madness even. He actually believed what he was saying! He just got through with telling her how people can disagree with the Remaking perfectly well. And yet, here he was insisting that the Remaking was so fantastic, disagreement with it would soon be impossible.
What did that leave for those who truly did not believe in the Remaking? Uncle Steffen only pretended that her father could think what he liked. Where the rubber met the road, Uncle Steffen's Council was running over Sela's family.
Sela shivered, and her mind began to scream at her. She had to find a way out of this situation. The safe-house was out of the question now. Leon would not leave his father's side to go with Sela, and Uncle Steffen would not deign to follow her anywhere.
The mission was scrapped, she decided. The only objective remaining was to get away safely. Somehow she had to extract herself from her relatives, without raising alarm. Leon would surely have ready access to nearby Guides.
A thought occurred to her; she could run when they got off the train. Leon was taller than Sela, though. He was taller than Desmond even, and his body was lean and trim.
Could she outru
n her cousin? It was anyone's guess. The last time she had seen him, he had only just begun to near her in height. He had grown a lot in just a few years.
Maybe she could say she wanted to go back to her apartment and pick up some things before she came to the Tower. Steffen would be too busy to wait, and Leon might accompany her then, just to be sure she did not try to flee.
Maybe she could get him to the diner.
No, that wouldn't work, she thought. Steffen would just send someone to go pick up her things. The mission was still scrapped.
How could she get away, then? Her mind churned and buzzed with panic, and she could think of nothing that might help her escape. She had to get away!
"Now Sela, I understand if you want to see your parents this afternoon, and I think I can arrange that…" Steffen paused and took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, they might see it as… a… well, betrayal that you're coming back."
"Betrayal?" Sela spat, all other thoughts evacuating her mind. How could my dad…? And then she realized this was another manipulation.
Steffen actually believed that she was coming back to the Tower. He might even believe that she had run away because her parents were questioning the Remaking. Her uncle seemed truly unaware that she had not run away at all, but had been sent away for her own protection.
And if she were to waltz into the Tower of Hope, her father would be devastated.
But then, Steffen would never, ever allow her to see her parents, because she would find her mother still in a hospital bed after a full year.
Besides, it was not like she would go back to the Tower of Hope and live as freely as she had when they first moved to Megora. She would be a hostage to bring her father into line.
And that was unacceptable. She would not go. Could not go.
She risked another look back in the car toward Desmond. He chewed on his bottom lip, a look of agonized worry stretched tight across his face.
Sela turned away, and saw that Leon had narrowed his eyes at her. He caught the glance and had remembered the last one. His eyes pivoted and searched the car, though Desmond must have reigned in his expression, because Leon turned back to peer at her, his face now sterner.
The Remaking Page 30