by Adam Rakunas
“But you trust him?”
She shook her head. “I probably never will. But I trust the work that he’s doing. I can see it right in my own neighborhood. I know three different people on disability who aren’t getting their pensions, and that means they go hungry. Saarien’s church has kept them fed. I trust that’s going to make their lives better. Even though things are going to get worse first.”
A chill ran up my spine. “Is that why you’re teaching people how to punch each other out?”
“I’m showing people how to take care of themselves.”
“By beating up their neighbors?”
“What neighbors?” Serena pointed at the couple in the café, who were staring at us with worry in their eyes. “Do you know everyone in your building? Do you know everyone on your block?”
“You just talked about people in your neighborhood.”
“But I don’t know them. This city’s changing so fast that no one knows who’s who any more. People come in from the kampong, they leave for other parts of the planet, they don’t stick around long. No one wants to put down roots. They just want to get by until they can move onto something bigger.”
I felt this horrible tension gripping my chest, like everything she said was squeezing my heart. “Serena, aren’t you still Union? Don’t you still have a voice? Why aren’t you and everyone in that… place all up in arms and pounding on your Ward Chair’s front door?”
“Because our Ward Chair was the guy I sparred with tonight. He’s with us, too.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, a clear sign: I’m through talking with you. “There’s a storm coming, Padma. You’d better take cover now.”
I watched her go up the Greenbelt. Overhead, the night sky was perfectly clear.
SEVEN
I walked into the first bar I could find, made sure it was actually a bar, then ordered a beer. I took a few sips, glad that it was actual hefeweizen and not wheat juice. How many of those awful mixers had I gone to when I was still an Indenture? All those suits, all that barely veiled backstabbing, all those lists of approved intoxicants. I shuddered at the thought of the crowd at the Mermaid’s Kick, all pretending they were still living the Life Corporate.
I couldn’t just sit here. I knew that. Serena hadn’t used the work strike, but everything in her speech and body language screamed it. The way she railed against the Union not keeping its promises, the frustration of nothing getting fixed, that bit about how things were going to get worse first. That was the talk that got people building barricades and hiding caches of rocks and diesel bombs. How many other people who weren’t mixed up in Saarien’s churches felt the same way? How many of them were learning how to beat the crap out of each other?
I finished half the beer and blinked up a map of all the Temples of New Holy Light. There was the one on Lu Yua Street, of course, but Serena had probably gone there and gotten my face blacklisted. I still didn’t get what had brought her into that place, but it didn’t matter. She was there, as were a lot of other people. If they were all as angry and ready to strike as Serena, there could be a strike in the next few days, never mind weeks. If I couldn’t understand why this was happening, maybe I could short circuit it.
I blinked texts to my little surveillance network to see if any of them had leads on Ly Huang. Odd Dupree, an old colleague from the plant, thought he did, though his pai and his brain were acting up a lot, thanks to his Indenture time as a pharmacological test subject. He sent me a fuzzy picture of a woman who looked a lot like Ly Huang. She was walking past a glowing sign written in Cyrillic. The picture didn’t have a landstamp, but my pai could locate the sign: a Serbian bakery in Globus Heights. I groaned at the thought of riding another five klicks uphill, but a lead was a lead. I texted Odd to trail her as best he could, then grabbed a bike and took off. I hoped I could get there faster than Serena could send word that I was out and digging around. I blinked my pai into hiding as I passed a flashing Public terminal. Word-of-mouth still traveled faster than texts, but what the hell.
Thirty minutes later, I clunked the bike into a rack and slid out of the saddle. Odd gangled at a table outside Lepa’s Bakery. “You want some proja?” he said, holding up a plate of cornbread as I collapsed into the seat opposite him. “You look like you need some carbs.”
It took everything I had not to dive face first into the plate and gorge. I tore off a hunk and chewed, taking the minimal amount of time to swallow before taking the next bite. After I had demolished the entire piece, I ordered two more, along with some cheese spread. Odd smiled. “I started coming here a year ago. It’s a great spot. Plus it’s close to church.”
I stopped chewing and looked at Odd. “I didn’t know you were a churchgoer, Odd.”
He nodded, his floppy hair bouncing. “Glenn and I started coming here a few months ago. I think. I’m still kind of fuzzy on keeping time, but it’s getting better.” He rubbed his beard, the whiskers covering most of his old Indenture tattoo.
“You’re looking a lot more relaxed.”
He nodded and grinned. “It’s being a part of something bigger than me. I like that.”
“What about the Union?”
Odd made a face. “Well, that was nice at first. You know, when I Breached.”
“I remember, Odd. I signed you up.”
His face brightened. “You sure did! You helped me find a flat and get treatment for my condition.”
I nodded, thinking back to those early weeks when Odd had waded out of the ocean. He’d been a pharmaceutical test subject for LiaoCon, and the decades of getting pumped full of drugs had done a number on his brain. He would have seizures, memory loss, the whole kit.
He pursed his lips. “But you also got me that horrible job.”
“Which I also got you out of.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but that took, what, eight years?”
I held out my hands in supplication. “Odd, if I had any control over how many people Breached, do you think I would have let you stew there for so long?”
He waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “No, of course not.” But then the thought came back, because he furrowed his eyebrows. “But, still, I felt kinda forgotten. At church, it’s not like that. We’re actually doing something.”
“Like what?”
He ticked off his fingers. “Preschool. Meal delivery for shut-ins. Extensive medical background interviews.”
“What?”
He nodded. “We’re building a database of all the conditions all of us Breaches have as a result of our Indentures. There’s a lot of messed up people here, Padma. Genetic disorders, physical handicaps, all kinds of mental trauma. You know anyone with that?”
The Fear laughed. I know someone who fits that description. Good Lord, it was only eight in the evening; how could The Fear come out to play so soon?
I put my hands flat on the table. “If I knew anyone with those problems, I’d tell them to talk with their Ward Chair, like I used to do with you.”
“But did you all the time?” Odd’s face crumpled. “Even before all this business with the lifter and your distillery, I always felt like you spent more time at Big Lily’s than you did going around and talking with people.”
“That’s bullshit, Odd, and you know it!”
He leaned back, and I cursed under my breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I can get a little heated–”
Odd put his hands on mine. “I think you need to come to church with me.”
“I’d rather you tell me about the woman I asked you to find.”
He smiled. “Come with me and you’ll see.”
The church was a block away, halfway down a dead-end alley off Lutyen Avenue. There were no guards outside, and the doors were wide open. Light and music bounced around the alley walls, the sounds of fifty people singing their hearts out (I had a job once cutting cane, worked all day through blood and pain) and clapping their hands off. “I don’t think this is the place for me,” I said.
Odd nod
ded. “I’ll save a seat for you.” He ducked under the doorway, into the blast of heat and music.
I peeked around the corner and saw a room similar to the one on Hawks. There was the table with food, there was another with clothes, and there was an altar. Fifty ragged, happy people smiled as they swayed to the accordion and euphonium duo playing up front. I got a lump in my throat from the sound of the squeeze-box, but the player was a little old lady, not Washington Lee. Saarien wasn’t here in person, but he was on a battered two-meter-wide screen hanging from a corner. He clapped along with the music. Maybe every service was networked through worship. I made sure to keep out of sight of any cameras or eyeballs.
When the song came to its thunderous conclusion, Saarien spread his arms wide. “Has everyone had enough to eat? Is there anyone who wants to bear witness before we close out?”
A sunburned woman stepped up to Saarien. She had a salt-and-pepper plait that went down to the small of her back. She turned to face the camera, her dark, shark eyes glinting in the light. It was the woman who’d hopped into Ly Huang’s lorry. The light glinted off her glass supernova fist pin as she introduced herself as Saraphina Moss, fresh out of jail. She rambled about how she had found meaning in her life after joining the Temple, how she was a criminal but was paying her debt to society. I didn’t hear her words. I just looked at those eyes and wondered how I could make a point to stay as far away from them as possible.
Saarien thanked the woman. “Peace and joy to you!”
“AND ALSO TO YOU!” roared the congregants.
“Lift up your hearts!”
Everyone held up their hands. “WE LIFT THEM UP TOGETHER!”
“Lift up your fists!”
Everyone clenched their hands into fists. “WE LIFT THEM UP TOGETHER!”
“Now let us all go in peace, to love and serve one another.”
The congregation hugged each other as the screen flicked off. I scanned their faces until I saw Ly Huang. She stood next to the euphonium player. Ly Huang had always looked relaxed at work. Here, she seemed ready to fall asleep. Her eyelids were heavy, and she kept swaying even though the music had stopped. Was Saarien drugging the food? Where could he have even gotten drugs?
People filed out, some of them giving me stoned nods, others hurrying off into the night. After a few minutes, Odd beckoned to me from the soup table. I squared my shoulders and marched in, keeping watch on Ly Huang from the corner of my eye. “You hungry?” said Odd, handing me a bowl.
“No, thank you. I had enough proja.” I eyed the soup, wishing my pai had a working chromatograph. Saarien was no chemist, but he certainly knew a lot from his time at the refinery. If he could pull Serena back into his orbit, who else had he got his claws into?
“It was good, wasn’t it?”
“Delicious. What was the deal with the fists, Odd?”
He smiled. “It’s a reminder that we’re all in this together.”
“Really?” I touched the fist tattooed on my cheek, right below my old Colonial Directorate ink. “See, I thought the fist symbolized how we would all come to each other’s defense if the Big Three tried to screw us.”
Odd looked at me, his eyes so clear and calm that it scared me. “Then what do we do when the Union screws us, Padma? An attack on one is an attack on all.”
I leaned over the table to put my face close to his. “Is that what Saarien’s telling you? That the Union, the group that’s protected us, is attacking us?”
“What else do you call it?” His smile faded. “You don’t think it’s a form of violence, what’s going on? People getting booted from their homes, getting left behind? That’s against the First Clause, as far as I’m concerned.”
“No, it’s exactly what Saarien used to do when he was still a Ward Chair,” I said. “Every chance he got, he would moan about how hard things were in Sou’s Reach, and that he needed extra funds to feed orphans and re-educate single fathers. And do you remember what he did with all that money?”
A woman cleared her throat behind me. “Is there a problem?”
I looked over my shoulder. Ly Huang stood there with two goonish-looking people. She wore a supernova fist pin, this one made from stainless steel. Her look grew harsher when she recognized me. “You have some nerve coming here, Padma.”
I turned around, keeping some space between my butt and the soup table. “Really.”
She nodded. “All this time, I thought you were a good boss. But now I know you’re just another parasite, sucking value and life away from me.”
“Ah. That’s why you walked off your job without telling Marolo or me?”
She spat on the ground. “My job was a joke. Pressing cane for pennies.”
“You made forty yuan an hour when other distillers pay twenty. You got a month of paid vacation, medical, dental, education grants, and a better pension than the Union pays.”
The two goons looked at each other. One of them, a woman with a shaved head, leaned over to Ly Huang and said, “Really? That’s a sweet deal.”
“It was garbage, is what it was,” said Ly Huang, her voice harsh. “It was wage slavery.”
“No, it was work.” I pointed at the tattoo on my cheek. “This was a hell of a lot closer to slavery than you or any other Freeborn will ever know.”
“And there it is,” said Ly Huang, fire in her eyes. “The superiority of the Breach comes out.”
“All right.” I stepped to Ly Huang and put my nose a few centimeters from hers. “You want to play Who’s More Morally Superior? Put on your big girl pants and get ready, kid, because I’ve been winning this game since before you were a fetus.” I cocked my head. “How are your parents, by the way? They’re still getting the remittances from your paycheck, right? The one that’s helped them buy a more efficient digester and those new PVs? Your mom wrote me a letter thanking me for your pay. She can get those lung meds again.”
Ly Huang spat. “You think you can buy my parents off? Bu wouldn’t need those meds if she hadn’t been breathing in smoke from slash-and-burns her whole life.”
I shook my head, my eyes locked on hers. “I like your mother a lot, but you can’t pin it on me or the Union if she worked illegal farms.”
“She did what she had to do! She had to keep us alive!”
“By not coming into the city? By not finding a better gig?”
“What better gig?”
I shrugged. “Maybe one working on a distillery? You know, like the one you have?”
The other goon, a man with scars on his forehead, leaned over Ly Huang’s shoulder and gave me a smile. “Excuse me. Do you have any openings?”
Ly Huang spun around and shot him a look so sharp it cut. The goon shrank back.
“Looks like you’ve got some pull around here,” I said to Ly Huang.
“What do you care? Exploiter.”
I kept my eyes from rolling. “If you want to call someone names, Ly Huang, it helps to use the right ones. I may be a lot of things, but I have never exploited you or any of your co-workers. I’m always a phone call away if you need to talk to me, but you haven’t said boo for the past year. If you and everyone else is scared the distillery’s going under, don’t be. You can come back to work right now, and we can let this all go.”
“Wait, more of you left?” said the goon with the shaved head.
I nodded. “I had a crew of twelve yesterday, but everyone’s walked off. You any good with tools?”
“Heck, yeah!” said the goon, her face brightening up. “I had a Class Two Mechanist’s rating!”
“What’s your name?”
She grinned. “Gwendolyn Barker.”
“I’m Kazys Ming!” said the other goon. “I’m really good with words.”
“I could always use marketing people.” I walked around Ly Huang and held out a hand. “Can you start today?”
“No, they can’t!” Ly Huang’s voice shifted, her tone that of an angry dog owner. The goons, their brains programmed to respond to comma
nd presence, shrank back. Oh, those poor bastards.
Ly Huang took a sharp breath, her face screwed up in rage. “My eyes have been opened to what you and every other Union stooge has done to all of us. You make promises, you seduce us with so-called ‘living wages,’ all to distract us from the fact that we are the true owners of this and every other world. You were exploited by the Big Three, and then you come here and exploit us. It’s in your nature, and you can never change.”
“I’m not a scorpion, and you’re not a frog,” I said. “Everyone has to work to make a living.”
She sneered as she shook her head. “That’s easy for you to say when you own the places we work. If you don’t make enough profit, you just close things down. People lose their jobs, they go hungry, they get desperate.”
“Or they go find some way to make a living. Are you trying to tell me that there aren’t enough jobs on this planet?”
“Only if you work the cane fields,” said Ly Huang. “If you want to spend your life cutting and stacking, sure. But if you want something better, you have to fight for it. That’s what Reverend Saarien is showing us: how to fight.”
“Reverend?”
She nodded. “He’s been ordained in the eyes of the universe. He knows the way to liberation, and he’s going to teach us. We are history’s select. What we will start today is going to spread to Occupied Space until everyone is truly free!” She looked at the goons. “You keep her here. I have work to do.”
The two goons gave each other pained looks. “Do we have to?”
“YES.”
Ly Huang barked the word so loud it made all of us shake. The goons nodded, then swooped to me before I could move. They formed a human wall and pushed me into the table so hard it hit the wall. Hot soup spilled on the floor and splashed through my trousers. The goons’ massive bulk blocked out any forward escape. Both of them stared down at me, their faces turned to stone masks, though the one with the scars gave me a brief look that said, Sorry, it’s corporate programming. What can I do?