Yarn

by Jon Armstrong

  I stopped. My Celine-Audis gleamed in the sunlight that cut across my shins. Turning back to the darkness inside, I asked, "Where in Antarctica?"

  "Gimme the Calvins! Ten of them."

  I counted them out and set them beside his bare feet. He laughed at me. "So, the tailor of the super celebs is a Xi burner!"

  "Hardly. It's for a design project."

  "Sure it is." He looked me up and down. "You're probably covered with Xi sores."

  I imagined punching him in the face, but of course he didn't know about my father. "What's the address?"

  "I'll tell you what I know, but I want twenty percent."

  "Take the Calvins," I told him. "The project is gratis."

  He snorted in disbelief. His expression darkened, and then he stared up at the ceiling for a beat. I could just imagine his sad life, his failed schemes, his punishing quasi-legal yarn jobbing, and his monthly mistress visits. "All I heard is that the last factory is somewhere near Birudu." His voice was flat and sullen. "That's all I know."

  I added another Calvin to the pile at his feet. "Get yourself a skein of that new Pfizer-core bouclé."

  SEATTLEHAMA: A KISS

  I held the mini-T in the palm of my hand and stared at it. When I had first seen it, I assumed Bunné Hurts meant that she was in pain. That for all she had done in the slubs, for all the misery and death she caused us, she was the one grieving. But staring at it in the dim interior of the Time Integral entervator on my way back down, I decided it probably meant that she knew she caused pain, that she maybe even reveled in it. And the reason she had made those awful non-woven, ill-fitting B-shirts was because she wanted to torture us. For the first time in my life, I understood that the injustice and cruelty of the slubs was by design.

  When the entervator stopped at 200, I didn't get off to return to Pilla's, but instead traveled all the way down to the Keep.

  I now knew why Vada had taken me to M-Bunny headquarters. It wasn't about my father, or Rik, or even me-it was about the whole system, and the person who had designed it. Stuffing the mini-T into a pocket, I told myself that I had fully awakened, and was ready to fight. Only where my father had failed, I would succeed.

  The entervator Keep was packed. I had to push past legions of costumed WaterButties, Tomoki Jones, Val the Impliers, and some guide droning on about the inventor of the entervator to reach the schedule board. The Showhouse was due in ten minutes. I headed to their parking place and waited.

  The craft landed right on time. A beat later the door opened and about forty passengers exited. When the last stepped down, Vada came toward the doorway. I could tell that something was wrong the instant I saw her face. When she saw me, she just grasped my arm, and jerked me inside. She almost dislocated my rotator cuff she pulled so hard.

  "Ouch!" I said rubbing my shoulder. "What's going on?"

  "Shh!" She bolted the door. "The satins are looking for you!"

  "Me? What for?"

  "They think you killed Izadora." Her eyes were angry. "She was murdered half a year ago."

  "I didn't kill anyone! Who is Izadora?" I looked from her to Red Hat and back. "Really. I don't know what you're talking about." An instant later, cold dread filled me. "This woman who was killed… what was she wearing?"

  Vada waggled a hand in the air. "I don't know… clothes! But you're the one they're looking for. You have to tell me the truth!"

  "What kind of clothes?"

  "I heard she was wearing a suit by Chester Brilliantine." Red Hat was leaning against the controls and fishing candy from a pink box. "Made of mahogany drap-de-Berry."

  I felt as if I'd been slugged in the gut. "I know her! I mean I don't know her. But I was just supposed to rip a yarn from her! Someone else was there. Some man in an invisible suit bashed her against a wall. He tried to get me, but he missed and ran. I didn't know what happened."

  "Shit!" Vada covered her face with her hands. "Shit on everything!"

  "But I swear I didn't do it! You have to believe me. I was just supposed to rip a yarn. I didn't even do that."

  Vada let her hands flop to her sides and gazed at me. "No. I believe you. But-and this is the terrible part-you've been pinned for the crime."

  "Me? How? And that was months ago!"

  Vada frowned at Red Hat and released a long sigh. "At first the authorities said her death was an accident, but the opposition wouldn't let it go. They demanded more investigation. And then just a week ago, a Bunné opponent stole the body and did tests that showed Izadora was killed with dark Xi."

  "Her expression was a terrible scream."

  "It's a horrible way to die. Since Bunné controls the quasi-legal Xi trade, there was a call for a new investigation, but yesterday, Bunné's people said they had new evidence that pinned you: they had a yarn you ripped from her."

  "I didn't rip a yarn! I saw some ghost thing strangle her."

  "Yes. It's not truth they're after," added Vada with a sigh. "They want a convenient solution."

  "An illegal slubber is the perfect crease," said Red Hat.

  Vada nodded slowly. "We were about to ask you to help us."

  "I want to help!"

  Vada smiled forlornly. "We wanted you to do one of those yarn rips for us."

  "Bunné," added Red Hat.

  Vada rubbed her eyes. "Two years of work down the sewers!"

  "But I could do that!" I laughed giddily. "I can rip a yarn from Bunné. No problem. Just tell me when and where."

  Vada looked at Red Hat. "What's he going to do now?"

  He pulled a small glowing candy from the box and tossed it into his mouth. Looking me up and down, he said, "Hide."

  "Just tell me where Bunné will be and what you want," I said to Vada.

  She shook her head slowly. "It's much too risky. The satins are looking for you. You're the current top anti-shopper. They'll find you."

  She didn't understand how good a yarn ripper I was. "Vada, listen. I can rip any yarn anywhere from anyone. Just tell me what you need!"

  She shook her head. "It's impossible now."

  "Let me try. I can do it."

  "When the time is right." She glanced at Red Hat. "The story is that because she trusts no one, she wears all her company information in the clothes on her body. If we could get a yarn off it, we'll have enough to destroy her… or at least cause terrible problems."

  "That's easy!" I said with a laugh.

  "Nope," said Red Hat.

  "You have to understand that Miss Bunné is a top weave scientist besides being a talented businesswoman, a singer, and an epic master. We're dealing with someone on a very high level."

  "He needs to go, and so do we." Red Hat crunched down on a candy in punctuation.

  Vada ignored him. "She invented the self-spinning cluster, the Konkordia knit language, Bosweave, and expanded dark-knot theory. We believe it will be difficult."

  I patted a pocket. "I've got my pulls with me. I just need to glue them in, and I'm ready."

  "Time," said Red Hat.

  Vada glared at him. "Xavier," she said, "could you give us a moment?"

  Xavier, I told myself. That was her husband's name.

  He exhaled. "There's no time."

  "One minute."

  He shook his head. "Twenty-nine seconds."

  Vada rolled her eyes. "By the way, Tane, this is my brother, Xavier."

  "Oh." A grin spread across my face. "Nice to meet you!" I held out my hand.

  He shrugged noncommittally, then ambled past me to a little door at the back of the ship and slammed it closed behind him.

  "He's just…" she stopped. The idea of explaining seemed to instantly exhaust her. "Tane… I… I appreciate your willingness to help. You don't know what that means to me, but…"

  I stepped before her, sensing an equality between us. Touching her right forearm, I leaned in. I had never kissed someone without a mouth stocking or any fabric between us, and the idea seemed a little disgusting and maybe dangerous-yet I put my mouth
on hers.

  After just a few seconds, she pulled back. "Wait… you're complicating this right now. I like you, but we have to wait. And Xavier and I must go. If you've been followed we'll be linked and we will be killed. We had an agreement that we could stay in Seattlehama only if we keep absolutely clean and uninvolved." She frowned at me. "Do you understand?"

  "I'll go with you."

  She glanced toward the door, fumbling for her next word. "If you're with us and we're caught, you're dead for sure. You're safer on your own."

  "I want you," I told her. I kissed her again.

  "Shit!" Xavier burst from the back and sprinted to the controls. "They're coming! Get him out. We're going up!"

  Vada's lipstick was smeared. She turned away.

  "Where are you going?" I asked her. "It doesn't matter. I'll come with you!"

  When Vada turned back to me, her mouth was wiped clear. "Tane, for your sake, you must go! If we're involved, they will want us more than dead. You can escape. Just stay away from the entervators. Hide somewhere. And try and get out of Seattlehama. You'll be fine."

  "Get him out!" cried Xavier. "We're starting up!" He turned a lever and I could feel the entervator latch onto a cable.

  "I'm sorry, but you're really better off alone!" said Vada, hurriedly unlocking the door. "We're Toue. We're wanted in all cities. I'm very sorry, but you must go."

  The ground was slowly falling away. I had to jump before it was too late. I landed hard on the cushioned pad where the ship had rested, and rolled to look up at the Showhouse.

  I stood, straightening my Fleece Swansdown jacket and brushing off the dust. I didn't like how she first kissed me back only to then shove me out. What was the rush? I was the one in trouble. And if she really needed help, I knew I could rip a yarn from Bunné. I could do it without looking. I thought about going right now and doing just that to show them. She had to be somewhere in her boutique. Maybe Necklace knew where.

  And then I heard it. "That's him, officers! That's the killer." I knew the voice.

  CUT AND SEWN

  Barreling down the showstairs, shoving the Handy Breeders, and Wayward Bug Ladies to the side, came seven men dressed in navy satin, brandishing long silvery sticks. Withor and Vit followed behind.

  "He's the murderer!" cried my former boss. "I have the drapde-Berry yarn rip he took to prove it!"

  "He's making it up," I protested, sprinting around one of the entervators. Jumping over a box of tools, I slid to a stop as one of the satins was coming at me. Turning, I reversed direction.

  The only way out of here was the showstairs or the cables. Two satins guarded the stairs while the others played cat and mouse with me between the parked ships.

  Behind a pink entervator, two men worked on an open panel of tubes.

  "Can you take me up?"

  They didn't meet my eyes. One shook his head.

  "Please!" I had to rush away as one of the satins closed in.

  "I sent him on an authorized and completely ordinary yarn acquisition errand," continued Withor louder as men with photo-cams and sight-cannons crowded around the stairs. "He killed the poor woman-who happened to be a member of the Fashion Board-for no reason at all. I tried to rehabilitate him. I have great sympathy for the prison class, but they're a nasty, ungrateful people!"

  The satins moved in as I raced back and forth, desperate for a way out. Between a long silver entervator and the back wall, four of them cornered me.

  Vit sneered. "He's a corn boy slubber."

  "Indeed," Withor agreed. "This is unfortunately another example of that race's tendencies to irrational violence."

  "I didn't do it!"

  None of the satins spoke. Their grim expressions made me fear they weren't going to send me back. They were just going to kill me.

  "There was someone else there! It looked like a ghost. I don't know who it was, but that's the killer."

  One of the satins lunged. I jumped back, but slipped on the oily floor. Before I could get on my feet another rushed forward and punched me. His heavy, gloved fist felt like it cracked my ribs. I fell face down as if I had been run over. Another satin put his knee in my back. I couldn't move.

  Withor stood far behind the satins, as if I were some dangerous beast.

  "Okay," said one of the satins. "Bag him up."

  "I didn't do it," I said with the tiny amount of air I left in my lungs. "He sent me. He knew! And there was someone else! Someone in an invisible suit." If the satins heard me, which I doubted, none paid attention.

  An explosive roar came from overhead. I had to twist my head as far as it would go to see. Two hundred feet up, where Vada and Xavier had been headed, was a smear of black smoke hovering between the buildings.

  "Two more Toue dead," muttered one of the satins.

  Someone-maybe another entervator entertainer-gasped and said, "They shot down the Europa Showhouse."

  PART 3 NOVELTY

  KONG: MUD-SOAKED HERMOSET CHIFFON

  The first sensation to return to me was sound. And not a particular sound, but an ambience: the harmony of a space, the pulse of air, the hum of the cosmos. The second was temperature. The air above was hot and moist, but whatever I was resting on was cold and felt like it was slowly sucking the warmth from me. And the third, smell, was the one that actually woke me, as a stinging combination of rotting garbage and sulfur filled my nose.

  Pushing myself up, I blinked several times to clear my vision, but all that I could make out was a blue-tinged haze-like hundreds of layers of voile. Beneath me was a soggy towel. I was naked except for a few splatters of mud here and there. My ribs were visible below my skin, and my stomach curved inward toward my spine. Below, my slack genitals hung in the heat. I wanted to stand up, but the muscles in my arms were already trembling from the strain of lifting my shoulders. I sank back down. The sound of my own harried breathing filled my ears.

  I didn't know where I was, but I guessed days, maybe even weeks had passed. After I had rested a moment, I strained to sit on my haunches. The small change in elevation made me dizzy, and for a moment I feared I was going to be sick, but then the sensation in my throat settled. Beyond the borders of my towel was nothing but dark mud dotted here and there with a few sad tufts of vegetation, the odd rock or lump, and a few bits of trash: a sloppy scrap of paper, a shard of once-white plastic, a fluttering ribbon of black metallic tape.

  I tried to speak, to call for someone, but could only produce a whisper before I began to choke. Coughing flooded my skull with pain, and when I put my hand to my forehead, my fingers found a rough line of scar tissue now stretched from my hairline to my neck, slicing my face in half.

  If I had the strength, I would have run from myself. Instead, my fingertips crawled along the slick and knotted skin like ants on sugar as I tried desperately to conjure what had happened.

  I remembered Kira's beautiful eyes. I recalled standing on the Stanton-Bell knitting a skivvé. I saw Vada performing in the Europa. I remembered Pearl Rivering with Pilla.

  My stomach clenched. I vomited a dribble of clear goo. The scar down my face felt like it was going to pop open. Holding my head, I moaned, and slumped forward. This pain wasn't just the scar, something else was wrong. For an instant I knew I was dead, and that this was some empty stage for the soul or memory. I was stuck here forever in this stinking hot air and cold mud.

  And then, as if a set of complicated gears engaged, somewhere in the reawaking mysteries of my brain, I remembered being in the entervator Keep and Withor pointing at me. After the Europa Showhouse had exploded, the satins had stuffed me into a large cloth sack. I had been beaten unconscious.

  I felt my face, but couldn't understand why I had one big scar down the middle. When had I been cut?

  Steadying myself, I rose onto one knee, clenched my teeth, and then pushed myself up. I was standing, but I had to negotiate my own violent dizziness like a surfer pitching his weight from right to left and from the balls of his feet to the heels and back.
Stepping off the cloth, my feet sank into the recycle-smelling mud. I saw tire tracks and figured someone had dropped me here. I wobbled twenty feet before I had to stop. Resting on my haunches, I huffed down the noxious air.

  And while I knew this was the slubs from the smell, where was the corn, where were the houses, and where were the M-Bunny men? All around was nothing but mud and fog.

  "Hello?" I held my head with both hands as the pain felt like it was going to split me in two. I shouted, "Is anyone here?" I heard nothing. "Hello? Anyone!" Pain blinded me for an instant.

  I had been struggling inside the bag. I remembered trying to push my way out. It had been so black I had seen nothing but spirals and checkerboards. Then I remembered lying on a table in some noisy echoing space. From high above, I had seen harsh parallelograms of sunshine. And it was there-wherever that was-that my head had been torn and the flesh on my face had been sliced off with sharp metal gears.

  And then I knew! I had been taken to M-Bunny headquarters. I remembered the factory skylights, the hum of machines, and the grinders that deboned the recycled. But unlike my dad, and Rik, and millions of others, I had somehow escaped. Feeling my head, I tried to find the hole where the bolt had gone in, but of course there wasn't one.

  They hadn't given me Blue to stun me, nor had they mercifully killed me before they recycled me. I had been thrown straight in. But then something happened.

  I heard a wet suck of mud. A second before I had been screaming in hopes of finding someone else, now a cold fear covered my skin. Turning around, I peered into the fog. I heard more squishing sounds. They were coming for me! I searched the ground, and grabbed at what I thought was a metal scrap but it turned out to be paper. Ahead I saw something shiny, and grabbed for a small shard of glass. Feeling the edges, I found the sharpest point and held it up.

  I saw movement in the fog. A flutter of what looked like cloth. Glancing about, I wondered if I could try to run, but even as I stumbled backwards, the shape solidified. A man in a long coat-Withor!