Carl frowned at what might’ve seemed an echo of Futoh’s criticisms. “Excessive curiosity isn’t well rewarded here, you know.”
To the contrary, Roshike’s curiosity seemed to be quite beneficial, in terms of the information he’d been gleaning from his fellow candidates, including Carl. And then there were the informers who were surely well compensated for the curiosity they exercised. He didn’t think Carl was one of those, but he had his suspicions about Futoh.
Since he hadn’t gotten an answer yet, he asked another question. “Once we’ve got our real jobs as citizens though, won’t we be making enough to not have to bother with this kind of work? You said engineers earn a sizeable salary.” And had seemed to be a bit envious when he’d said it.
Carl shook his head. “Not enough, not at first. We all start out as cogs. Well, most of us.” A hint of bitterness had crept into the man’s voice. “And the faster we pay off our debts, the faster we climb levels—or at least have the opportunity to advance. So smart people—” By his tone he didn’t mean Futoh. “They take as much work as they can. And if there’s not enough extra work to be had with their regular jobs—and there usually isn’t—there are always jobs like this to be had. Cleaning, and cutting the grass, or painting a building or a million other little tasks. It may not pay much, but every bit means less debt weighing on future generations.”
Roshike recalled Hiroshi telling them that they didn’t have to worry about their debt affecting their parents, but the administrator hadn’t said anything about their kids. Hiroshi had lied to them though, so Roshike supposed it didn’t matter what the man had or hadn’t said. “Future generations?” Repeating someone’s last words was an effective technique to keep them talking and elicit more information.
Carl looked over his shoulder to make sure Futoh was well and truly gone before he answered. “It took my family four generations to finally get out of debt.”
Roshike shook his head, but what he said was, “I still don’t understand how it works. Four generations? Do you mean parents pass their debt to their children?” He thought that was appalling.
But Carl was shaking his head. “Not like you’re thinking. But lots of citizens can’t afford candidate cards for their kids, and those tickets are too expensive to be bought on credit. But the Batsu allow the children of citizens to get a card against their future earnings. Which means most of us start with even more charged to our account than people like you.”
Apparently there were limits to what Carl knew about the Batsu, as he seemed to be ignorant about how they saddled with debt people who came from the outside. The man knew infractions were fined, but how would he know non-citizens were charged for who they were and what they did before becoming candidates? As far as Roshike could tell, it was a well-kept secret.
But now wasn’t the time to try enlightening the man. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know...”
Carl waved that apology away. “Oh, I’m fine. I told you our family got out of debt. They live out in New Tokyo because it’s less expensive—for the sort of place that suits their station—and they might not have been able to buy me a citizenship outright, but they could afford a candidate card. So I’ll only have the cost of these clothes, plus my training and room and board to pay back.”
“Plus your screen.”
The man sighed as he started another stripe on the wall. “Still, it’s not so bad. In a few years I ought to be able to begin saving for a promotion, and that is the key to getting ahead. I intend to be the first in my family to be able to buy citizenship for my kids. But of course that means I’ll have to marry a woman who’s in at least as good a financial situation as I’ll be in. Or better.”
Roshike certainly didn’t want to talk about that topic. “What do your parents do, then?”
“My father’s a trader—”
He blinked at that because he heard ‘traitor’ at first, then Roshike realized that Carl had meant his father was one of the Batsu who sold goods and services to non-citizens, sometimes for bits and sometimes in exchange for goods people had salvaged or stolen or otherwise got their hands on that could be of value to the Batsu.
Carl had stopped mid-sentence, having apparently misconstrued Roshike’s reaction. “Alright, so he has to deal with people on the fringes like Futoh. So do a lot of citizens. So will you if you become an engineer—they often handle the fringe workers who are hired to help in the reconstruction.”
“You know what Futoh was on the outside?”
“Sure. He seems to think it makes him like my father, since he was one of those on the other side—a dealer.” In other words, someone who sold items to Batsu traders on a regular basis. Which made it all the more likely the man had also traded in information. “But my father is an honest businessman, while Futoh is little better than a thief.”
Roshike refrained from wincing. He found the combination of Carl’s clear admiration for Batsu society and his simultaneous and seemingly subconscious resentment of their class structure a strange mix. But the man’s blatant prejudice against those on the fringe of that society was painful. Especially as Carl only appeared to exempt Roshike from that contempt because he had the idea his fellow candidate was destined for bigger things. Roshike would still use that though.
But at the moment, any more confidences were curtailed by Futoh returning. He glared at Carl and nodded at Roshike, but he didn’t utter a word to either of them. He just picked up his rod, then rolled the brush in his pan of paint and went back to work. Slowly. Carl seemed happy enough about that and turned to his own section of the wall.
Pushing his brush up and down another part of the wall, Roshike contemplated what he had heard from Carl about how the Batsu operated. He knew some of it from an outside perspective, but that was skewed and incomplete. Now he had a better grasp of how it all worked, but he still had a lot to learn.
He realized, of course, that if engineers spent a lot of time in the fringes supervising those workers the Batsu hired to help in the reconstruction—they didn’t use citizens for manual labor, at least not on the outside—that would explain how Mark could’ve come into contact with someone like Tash, enough to somehow become one of Tash’s agents. But was that how the man had also become a member of the Yes network? Mark’s own words would seem to argue against it.
Roshike glanced at his fellow candidates on either side to gauge if it might be an opportune time to ask another question, but when he did, he found both men turned away and gaping at something behind them. Turning to see what the two were staring at, Roshike saw Teresa and her minder Bob approaching.
Though there was something about the sight of the blue-suited enforcer that always made his hackles rise, Roshike’s only reaction was to lay down his roller and give Teresa a casual smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
She nodded at him. “I don’t want to hold up the important work you’re doing, Ro.” And she’d made the remark without any hint of humor. “But I wanted you to know I’ve gotten the Gaku-net’s error corrected. The one that made you an engineering student.” Standing just a meter behind her, Bob could hear her clearly, and from his expression he didn’t like what she was saying. The question was why.
Of course they were all listening. At least, Carl and Futoh had put down their brushes, then moved a little ways away to give the illusion of privacy, but Roshike could tell they were paying close attention to the conversation. And he needed to keep up his part, while he tried to figure out what that was supposed to be.
He widened his smile. “I guess I should thank you, but I just go wherever my screen tells me to go and do what it says.” When he wanted to, anyway.
Her answering smile was thin and emotionless. “Well, tomorrow morning your screen will send you somewhere new. You’ll have to begin training as a guard, but you’re now tagged as a potential enforcer. Hopefully they’ll promote you to one someday, and then you can work for me again. By that time I should be in a position to hire my own enfor
cer.”
Behind her, Bob’s expression had grown darker as she’d talked. Obviously he liked none of this, and Roshike wondered if the man could make his guard training difficult and what form that might take. It wouldn’t be pleasant—of that, Roshike was sure.
He knew something else too. He had to go forward with the operation tonight. Too much would change with a new routine, and there would be too much to get used to before he’d have another good opportunity to finish his job. It was definitely time to move.
Shrugging, he continued to smile while picking his brush back up. “I imagine that’s still a long way off for both of us. And whatever that future will be, I need to focus on the job I have to do now.” And by that he didn’t mean painting a wall.
Teresa’s expression was still too flat for him to read, but he could speculate about what if anything she might be up to after he’d done what he came to do. Her voice was similarly toneless. “Good. That was all I came to tell you, Ro. You’ve got a good future ahead of you here, and I wanted to be sure you knew who was helping you with that.”
He nodded. Thanks a lot. Teresa turned, then walked away without another word, while Bob gave Roshike a glare before following her. After the two had disappeared around the corner of the building on the far side of the grass, Futoh whistled and Roshike turned to see both his fellow candidates staring at him.
Futoh was the first to find his voice. “That was Teresa Ashikiri. She’s the daughter of the governor of New Tokyo.”
Carl shot the man a hard look. “Thanks for stating the obvious. The big news is that she knows Roshike.” He turned to grin at him. “She knows you, and she wants you to work for her.” Which was apparently better than being an engineer.
A snort from the other man interrupted. “She’s the one who ran away. So it’s not like she’s in good standing anymore—they’ll make an example of her. They’ll have to.”
But Carl just shook his head. “She’s from one of the first families, and I’ll bet you they make her one of the elites again. Soon enough.”
“First families?” Roshike wanted to know what the man had meant by that.
Carl nodded keenly. “Those whose ancestors go back to before the Batsu, the people who lived here in the Gaku prior to the reconstruction.” That note of bitterness then came back into his voice. “Those who never had any debt to begin with, the ones who don’t even worry about whether or not they can afford to buy citizenship for their children.”
Futoh chimed in. “They probably don’t have to. Get it automatically, I bet.”
Roshike thought of the students he had met in Mark’s classroom, the ones who hadn’t been candidates, and their casual confidence. If those weren’t all from ‘first families’ he’d wager they’d all had citizenship purchased for them by their parents. “Why didn’t the first families have debts like the rest?” It wasn’t something that had been talked about in the potted history they’d heard in orientation.
Carl’s smile was wry. “Supposedly since they’d done their part in building the Gaku and beginning the reconstruction in the first place, the onus is now on us. I’ve heard it said ‘they’ve paid their debt’.”
Glancing over at Futoh, Roshike refrained from asking Carl about his own last name. Katachi, if he remembered right. But Carl clearly wasn’t from one of the first families. And since all citizens had family names, the man’s ancestors must’ve received one when they became citizens. Somehow, by some process. But probably not by choosing their own.
“Without any debt, I suppose people from first families don’t have to work?”
Carl blinked at that. “Everyone has to work, but there are jobs and there are jobs. Governor of New Tokyo is more like an exalted position than a job—but I suppose someone has to do it.”
Futoh snorted again. “And she could run all of the Batsu, and I still don’t think that would help her daughter. What kind of message would it send people, if that girl were rewarded for running away?”
And Roshike realized how desperate the Batsu must’ve been to bring Teresa back into their fold, if everyone within their society knew of her rebellion. Even to the point of almost killing her.
He shook his head. Teresa might or might not need his help, but there wasn’t anything he could do if she did, not now. And while it was fascinating to learn how the Batsu functioned, he wouldn’t have a chance to use any of that information until after he had finished the job he’d come to do.
Roshike returned to painting the wall, pushing the brush up and down with a slow, even pace. He was with Futoh, now. He needed to conserve all the energy he could for tonight’s operation. And while his hands worked, his mind began running through all the possible variations of how the job might play out. Or at least the ones he could imagine.
Chapter 15
On a Wing and a Prayer
Late that night
ROSHIKE CRAWLED THROUGH the ceiling onto the roof of the dormitory, hopefully for the last time. This time he’d worn a set of candidate clothes over his normal attire to keep from getting too dirty, and once he was out in the fresh air, he bundled the soiled clothes into a ball and left them there. And if he had to return, to delay his escape from the Gaku for some reason, he could toss them in the laundry later and hope no one asked awkward questions. He was trying to prepare for every eventuality, impossible as that was. He had left behind the registered screen they’d given him, and they were welcome to it if he didn’t return.
He’d made a flat pack out of his raincoat again and stuffed inside the few things he needed to take with him if he did leave tonight—he hoped to—and brought it along on his trip to the roof. Strapping it to his back, he walked to the edge and took his time looking around to make certain the coast was clear. When he was satisfied he wouldn’t be seen, he first tossed the bag with the grappling hook and rope to the ground below, while keeping the gloves with the spiked palms pads. Putting those on, he then lowered himself over the edge.
Pressing his body flat against the wall, he slowly climbed down the outside of the building. While it took more time than falling, it would be less likely to attract attention and would definitely not hurt as much. Once on the ground, he carefully took the gloves off and put them away in one of the pouches on his belt. If he ended up trying to scale the outer wall to try and escape, he’d need those again.
Roshike took a deep breath and a moment to focus his thoughts. As much as he wanted to get out of this place, he had to concentrate on one thing at a time. First he had to focus on breaking into the administration building and the server room and getting the files from the Batsu database. Once he had accomplished that, if he got that far, then he would need to take care of making copies to leave behind, so the job would be a success whatever might happen next. Then and only then could he concentrate on the best way to leave the Gaku. For now, he had to stop thinking about it.
Saying a silent prayer for the success of his mission—and he certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the disaster the operation in Osaka had been—he slipped away softly into the night. As he moved through the shadows, he felt only the usual nervous energy that came with this kind of work. No uneasiness at all.
He drifted from the cover of one building to another in complete quiet, working his way toward the center of the compound, until he reached the shadows cast by one of the smaller classroom buildings and heard the voice sounding sharply like a knife in the night.
“Well, well. I wonder what you’re up to. Breaking curfew will cost you.” Stepping out of the shadows ahead of Roshike, the blue-suited enforcer Bob raised the gun already in his hand, aiming it at Roshike’s chest. At least the safety catch was on. “I’ll wager there’ll be other charges I can add to your account once I see what’s in that bag you’re carrying.”
And those would be nothing compared to what the Batsu would say he owed them once he had finished tonight’s job. If he got the chance. He took a step forward, but Bob gestured with his gun and Roshike halted where he was.
One stride closer to the man with the gun was better than nothing.
He smiled at the enforcer, though he doubted if the man could see it in the dim light. “So report me. Considering what I already owe, I don’t think it will matter much.”
The heavy-set man—and it was muscle, not fat—with his mop of curly black hair, used the sleeve of the arm attached to the hand not holding the gun to wipe some sweat from his forehead. “Sure, a lot of infractions can simply be logged into the system to be charged to your account. And I could do that for the curfew violation. But I’m sure however you got out of the candidate dormitory will be something a lot more serious, as will whatever I find in that bag of yours. So I’m going to take you in for processing and see what all we can find to charge you with.”
Roshike kept his voice at a whisper. “Why?”
Bob shrugged slightly with one shoulder. Naturally it wasn’t the one attached to the arm attached to the hand that held the gun. Bob had been better trained than most enforcers. Maybe it was the blue suit. “My employer, Governor Ashikiri, doesn’t like the idea of her daughter continuing to consort with someone like you.”
Roshike nodded. “Maybe she should say something to Teresa about that. She seems to be taking orders pretty well these days.” Thanks to Bob?
The enforcer ignored that. “So I’m supposed to keep you from becoming an enforcer, even a citizen if I can manage it. And though they may want new citizens to be greatly indebted—” The man scowled as he paused for a moment, and Roshike wondered what was going through the man’s mind. Probably the Batsu liked their enforcers especially indebted. “There’s a limit. And I think I can take you over it. They likely won’t let you become the lowliest cog after tonight.”
Well, while Roshike agreed with that last sentiment, he couldn’t go along with the rest. The job he had to do was too important to let it end here. And after all, this was the man who’d casually shot Teresa in the stomach, almost costing her her life, medical technology notwithstanding. “And I suppose it doesn’t matter what Teresa wants?”
Whispers of the Dead (Miraibanashi, #1) Page 16