Proxy

by Alex London

  “You only think of yourself.” Her voice was his father’s voice. His mother didn’t know him at all. She’d been gone for so long, she couldn’t know him. He wasn’t a selfish little boy anymore. Or at least, he wasn’t only a selfish little boy. When he opened his mouth to tell her that, the sound that came out was his own name.

  “Knox.”

  He trembled.

  “Knox.”

  He opened his eyes. Marie shook him.

  “Knox,” she said. “Wake up. We’re here.”

  He sat up and looked through the porthole on the side of the hovercraft. They were on a narrow road running through a crumbling jungle city. They sped down a wide avenue, a man-made canyon of steel and concrete that had long ago surrendered to nature.

  Moss carpeted the facades of the buildings and dark holes that once were windows gaped black like the gouged eye sockets of a corpse. Vines broke through the sidewalks, and trees tore through the roofs of low rises, strangling one another for sunlight. Branches had grown so long on either side of the street, they met in the middle, crossing and tangling, and formed a covered canopy that muzzled the sun and cast spiderweb shadows over the street below.

  They landed beside the loading dock of an old factory and almost immediately, figures rushed out to greet them, armed men in mismatched uniforms from different companies, armies, and eras. A tall medical bot just like the ones in the Upper City rolled with them, a stretcher extended from its midsection.

  Gordis opened the rear hatch and the men swarmed in, grabbing supplies and directing the children out of the way. They ignored Knox and Marie, and lifted Syd right onto the stretcher. The bot turned and began to roll away.

  Marie jumped out of the hovercraft after him. Knox followed her and they were quickly blocked by one of the armed men with a fracture cannon mounted on his shoulder.

  “Gordis!” Marie shouted. “Where are they taking him?”

  The bot flashed projections of Syd’s vital signs to a man running alongside it. Must have been a doctor. Syd and the doctor and the robot disappeared up a ramp into the factory and vanished through a dark doorway.

  Marie tried to push past the soldier.

  “We go wherever Syd goes!” Knox yelled. “Whatever happens to him, happens to us!”

  The soldier didn’t move. He aimed his cannon straight into Knox’s face.

  “Let them pass,” a man called from above.

  Knox looked up the ramp to see the old man from the Valve, Mr. Baram, hobble outside, leaning heavily on a crutch, but otherwise unscathed.

  “He’ll want to see some friendly faces when he wakes up,” Mr. Baram said and the soldier swung open like a door. Knox and Marie ran forward after Syd. Mr. Baram followed behind on his crutch and the factory door slid shut.

  [46]

  WHEN SYD WOKE FROM a dreamless sleep, he was in a bed with clean white sheets and a firm mattress below him. He wore white shorts and a white shirt. Projections floated in the dim light of the room, showing his vital signs, his biodata, and various other information he couldn’t decipher.

  The walls of the room were paneled in wood, with discolored patches here and there. Above these strange patches were the faded outlines of stenciled letters. He could only make out a few:

  RD OTO C MP Y

  Syd felt a strange sensation on his arm and pulled it out from under the sheet. He saw the spot where he’d been branded, except the branding was gone. There was scarring and discoloration, but no more metal. No more Marie. He could just make out the R and the number 1. He looked back at the letters on the wall.

  Anything man can make can be unmade, he thought. Everything fades.

  He kicked the sheets off and felt the cool air on his skin. Climate control. He was in civilization, or some approximation of it. It had to be the Rebooters. If he’d fallen into anyone else’s hands, they wouldn’t have fixed his wounds or repaired his body. They’d have killed him for the reward. So he was in Old Detroit.

  Must be in an old office. He smiled, because he had made it, but still, he didn’t know into whose hands he had fallen, or where Knox and Marie had gone, or if he was truly safe, or if he ever could be again.

  His bed lay next to a large casement window, but the window was boarded up with mushy-looking wood. Shoots of green broke through the wood and crept along the outside of the glass. He watched a large slug crawl along one of the green shoots. A trail of tiny ants followed it, feeding off the goo it left behind. A tiny patch of boarded window in an abandoned city contained more life than he’d seen in days. He could have watched that slug for hours. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious.

  The door swung open and Knox and Marie came in, both of them clean and dressed in new clothes. Marie ran to his bedside and hugged him, and Knox, without hesitation, did the same.

  “We thought you might not make it,” Knox told him.

  “He thought,” Marie corrected. “I always knew.”

  Marie still held her weapon, although it looked like it too had been cleaned.

  Knox noticed Syd’s eyes drift to it. “She hasn’t put that thing down except to let Gordis show her how to clean the barrels. Said she’s vowed to protect you with her life and she’s not about to stop now.”

  Marie blushed. Syd smiled. “Thanks,” he said.

  “You’re looking much better, by the way,” Knox told him.

  “You too,” Syd said and his voice came out smooth and clear. They’d even fixed his throat. He couldn’t recall ever having medical care like this in his life. He found himself wondering what it would cost him—an old habit—when he remembered why they’d treat him this way. He had something the Rebooters wanted. The weight of the memory settled down on him. Everything costs.

  “There’s someone else here to see you,” Marie said. She didn’t want to overwhelm Syd just when he’d woken up. She wasn’t sure how fragile he would be, but he looked well and he looked eager, so she went to the door and opened it.

  Mr. Baram came in on a crutch, his face cracked in a smile so wide that his beard almost parted.

  “Ah, boychik!” the old man cried. “You’ve ridden a rough road, but you made it here at last. I knew Gordis would find you. He’s a good man, that one.”

  “You’re—here?” Syd muttered.

  “I am here, Sydney, yes,” Mr. Baram said, nodding. “Your powers of observation are as sharp as ever.”

  “No,” said Syd. “I mean, what are you doing here? Are we—?”

  “We’re with the Rebooters,” Marie confirmed. “And they’ve done blood tests. They know it’s you. They know you’ve got this biodata in your blood. You’re the—”

  “Don’t say it.” Mr. Baram held his finger in the air. “Please. We don’t throw that word around lightly and I would just as rather not. But it is true, Sydney. If you’re feeling up to getting dressed, I can show you.”

  Marie practically bounced on her feet. She looked almost giddy. Knox studied Syd carefully, looking for a change in the boy he’d known as his proxy that would suggest the historic role he was about to play, but he saw the same boy as ever, if a little cleaner and more rested.

  Syd dressed and Mr. Baram led him out into the hall, with Marie and Knox at his side. Soldiers flanked the door to his room. They looked no older than he was. As he passed them, he noticed their eyes searching the spot just behind his ear.

  Gordis rushed forward to escort them. He saluted when he saw Syd, which seemed a bit over the top.

  As they strode down the empty corridors, Syd felt the discomfiting gaze of everyone they passed in the halls. Soldiers and nurses, doctors and even little children. Their looks were eager, expectant, loaded with want. Syd didn’t like the attention. He felt oddly nostalgic for living in Knox’s shadow, even though he’d hated every moment of it.

  “How long have we been here?” Syd wondered.

  “Two days,” Knox said. “You were pretty banged up. We’ve been sleeping down the hall in another office. The whole place used
to make cars. It’s crazy. They’ve turned it into, like, a fortress. They’ve got some of their own networks and datastreams, weapons systems, transports, bots. They make their own biopatches and their hackers seem pretty slick.”

  “You joining the cause now, Knox?” Syd asked him.

  Knox shrugged. “It’s just some lux stuff is all.”

  “I guess it’s time you see the most ‘lux’ part of all,” Mr. Baram said when they reached a large double door, flanked again by two guards. Gordis pushed the door open and the guards looked at Syd wide-eyed as he passed through. One of them, a ferocious-looking teen with a shaved head and one metal hand, even let out a sigh.

  Knox and Syd made eye contact over that one. Knox raised his eyebrows and Syd shook his head.

  They stepped onto a metal walkway above a factory floor and Syd gasped. Below him, the space bustled with activity. Men in white suits with white hoods and goggles moved tubes and adjusted dials attached to a wheeled metal table. They all wore blue latex gloves and, when he entered, they all looked up. In his head, Syd heard the distinct whine of a baby crying. He’d been here before, and not just in his dream.

  [47]

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” MARIE saw Syd’s face turn ashen and he gripped the metal railing as if he were about to fall.

  “Yeah . . . I’m fine.” Syd looked to Mr. Baram. “I know this place.”

  “Infants do store memories,” Mr. Baram said. “This is where your father installed the program.”

  Syd winced. His hand went to his birthmark. The needles from his dream were real too.

  “This is also where your father was killed.” Mr. Baram sighed and put his arm around Syd. He led him down to the factory floor.

  “So,” said Syd. “What happens now? How do we, uh, upload this thing in my blood?”

  The medical staff made way for Syd as Mr. Baram led him past the steel table to a large machine in the center of the room. It had a door leading into a small chamber where wires hung from the walls. On the end of each wire was a patch, just like the ones Knox used to hack Syd a new ID. On top of the machine was a large antenna coiled with wires, an old transmitter.

  “This machine will capture the code entwined in your DNA structure,” explained Mr. Baram. “It works just like any other data transmitter. The code in the cells of this virus will be extracted and relayed through the network’s own transmitters throughout the Mountain City, Upper and Lower. It will infect every datastream and every bit of biotech between here and there. It will then erase the data, destroy the records, and sever the connections. It will fry the servers themselves.”

  Knox exhaled. That was some impressive hacking. He had to admire it.

  “Without the data, the system collapses,” Marie observed.

  Mr. Baram nodded. “No records of wealth or credit and debt. No personal marketing profiles, no security information. No patrons. No proxies. A total reboot of the system. It starts over.”

  “Jubilee,” said Syd.

  “Jubilee,” said Mr. Baram. “When all is forgiven.”

  “What about medical programs?” Knox asked. “People use the networked biotech to manage cancers and birth defects. If that goes offline, you’d condemn a lot of sick people. Can’t you just target the debt records?”

  Mr. Baram shook his head. “Nature cannot be reprogrammed forever. Humans are not meant to run like software. You cannot hack the human condition.”

  Knox looked to Syd. “Is this what you want? The system’s not perfect, but this . . . a lot of innocent people will die.”

  “Be quiet, Knox,” said Marie. “This is the only way. It’s Syd’s only chance to stop your father.”

  “Your father’s a part of this too,” Knox objected.

  “And until we destroy this system, he is just as trapped in it as you or me or Syd,” she said.

  “There is another thing you should know, Sydney,” Mr. Baram interrupted their argument. “As I explained, the virus works through the city’s existing networks. In order to achieve the necessary signal strength to overwrite the biofeeds of several million networked people, we have to overpower the background radiation it uses. Only that way can the virus be fully effective.”

  “What’s that mean?” Syd asked.

  “Our radiation levels have to be . . . substantial.” Mr. Baram cleared his throat. “You would not survive the process.”

  “What?” said Syd.

  “What?” said Knox.

  “To create a system meltdown of this magnitude . . . ,” Mr. Baram said. It appeared that speaking was painful to him. He couldn’t finish his sentences.

  Syd remembered the Arak9 he’d detonated to escape the Guardians. For a big enough reaction, the robot had to self-destruct.

  “To do this, to make this change, demands a sacrifice—” Mr. Baram’s voice cracked.

  Everything costs, thought Syd.

  “You dirty liar!” Knox yelled. He stepped up to Mr. Baram’s face, but Gordis shoved him back. “You knew! All this time, you knew that Syd was marked for death if he got here, but you let him go! You knew he wouldn’t come here, so you lied to us!”

  “I did not lie,” said Mr. Baram. “I said that Sydney would have to die.”

  Knox moved to hit the old man, but Gordis pushed him back.

  “Knox, calm down,” Marie said, reaching out to comfort him, her own voice cracking with emotion. He slapped her hand away.

  “No!” Knox threw his hands in the air. “Do you know what we went through to get here? Do you know what I gave up to save his life? I did not do all this so he could die!”

  “This isn’t about you, Knox!” Marie yelled. “This is bigger than any of us!”

  “It’s not!” Knox grabbed Syd’s hand, turned to him. “It’s not,” he repeated quietly, just for Syd. “Your life doesn’t belong to me and it doesn’t belong to them either. It’s yours.” He held Syd’s gaze. “What do you want?”

  Syd looked back into Knox’s emerald-green eyes. His sharp jaw tensed. He bit his lower lip.

  For the first time, Syd didn’t know what Knox was thinking, didn’t understand what he wanted. For the first time, Knox looked at Syd without expectation. He was the only one in the room looking at Syd that way.

  Knox’s eyes flashed quickly once to the side, just over Syd’s shoulder. Then they met his again and Syd read something else in them.

  Mischief.

  He saw in the reflection of Knox’s eyes, a doorway open as a doctor came into the room, a flash of daylight behind him. A way out. The choice was Syd’s. He could give himself up for the cause, set all the proxies free, and extract the most destructive revenge imaginable on the wealthy of the Upper City.

  Or he could run and change nothing and live.

  Knox squeezed his hand. There was no expectation in it. Just a question. Just a choice for Syd to make.

  He ran.

  [48]

  BEFORE ANYONE KNEW WHAT had happened, Knox and Syd were out the door. The soldiers didn’t dare shoot, lest they harm Syd. He was only allowed one way to die today.

  “Stop!” Mr. Baram pleaded. “Please!”

  Syd and Knox came out onto a loading dock and jumped down into an alley beside the factory in what had once been an industrial part of town. It looked remarkably like the alley outside Arcadia, where they’d had their fistfight after they’d first met. The patrons had a done a lux job duplicating Old Detroit in the Upper City, except here, the buildings were overgrown with vines and moss, the air cloying and damp. The city had a greenish tint, and even though the sun blazed in the midday sky, the streets had the dimness of twilight. Insects buzzed through the air, and the shed skin of giant snakes, thin as rice paper, crunched underfoot as the boys ran.

  They could hear footsteps behind them, the Rebooters giving chase, but they turned down side streets, dodged hanging vines, and crawled through thick mangrove roots. The overgrown city provided countless opportunities to hide, which was certainly why the Rebooters chose it for thei
r headquarters.

  They ran without purpose or direction. They ran only to escape, but they didn’t know what escape could mean. There was a world of difference between running to and running from. Even as they sprinted and ducked and turned, they had not let go of each other’s hands.

  They ducked around a corner and hid behind a curtain of vines that hung over a shattered storefront, crouching to catch their breath. They saw the shadows of a dozen Rebooters run by, the unmistakable silhouette of Gordis’s serpentine dreadlocks bouncing as he led the charge.

  Knox looked at Syd. Syd looked back at him. Neither knew what to say. Syd was marked for death. Long before he’d ever been Knox’s proxy, his life had been on loan, a debt to be called in before he ever had a chance to live it. A fatal inheritance. What words could offer solace for that?

  They sat listening to the city on the other side of the curtain of vines. Buildings creaked in the wind. Men shouted. Birds whistled.

  Knox shook his head. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, we could have gone . . . somewhere else.”

  “We never would have made it,” Syd said. “Your father’s bounty or the Rebooter fanatics would have tracked me anywhere.”

  “Now I get why my dad was so afraid of you,” said Knox. “Not that it makes what he did right . . . but I get it.”

  Syd nodded. He got it too. Knox’s father made a calculation. One poor proxy’s life to save countless others, to save all of civilization as he knew it. It was the same calculation Mr. Baram had made, just for a different result. Syd’s life was a means to an end.

  “It’s a funny thing,” said Syd. “I could have been anyone. All that matters about me is that I was given this virus. Otherwise, I’m nothing special. If it weren’t for my father, no one would care if I lived or died.”

  “I would,” said Knox. “I would now.”

  Syd nodded. He knew Knox meant it and he knew it hurt Knox to say it. Caring costs.

  “Thank you.” Syd smiled. He leaned his back against the wall of the store and stared at the opposite wall. A broken display case ran along the back and led to what was probably a storeroom. There’d be a doorway to another alley behind it. Another way out. The chase could go on forever. Syd could just keep running. Maybe Knox would even come with him.