by R E McLean
“Tired.”
“You can sleep when we get home.”
She didn’t say whose home.
“Please?”
He shrugged and started walking, dragging his feet along the pristine sidewalk. The dazed people passing them seemed confused by his style of walking, almost crashing into him in their attempts to get around him. He ignored them, staring down at the ground and dragging himself along like a sloth.
One of the vehicles above their heads started to descend. Lacey ducked, wondering where it would land. Pip stumbled into her.
“What’s that?”
“Some kind of car, I guess,” she replied. “Flying car, who’d have thought it?”
The vehicle floated down to the round. It was white with a thick orange stripe painted along its middle.
The door opened. Lacey looked up and down the street, wishing she hadn’t stopped.
“Come on,” she said. She grabbed Pip’s sleeve and tugged him away from the vehicle.
A woman stepped out of it. She was tall and slim, wearing a white bodysuit that reminded Lacey of Alex and her friend.
“Stop right there.”
Lacey looked up and down the street. No one was stopping. No one was paying any attention.
She carried on walking. They weren’t from here. The woman couldn’t be talking to her.
“I’m armed. Stay where you are.”
She froze. Pip slammed into her. She tried not to inhale.
“Don’t move.”
Lacey raised her hands above her head, feeing ridiculous. Had they been hunted down by gangsters from this world, people who tracked down—what had the doctor called her—Hive Deniers? Or maybe this woman was a Hive Denier, taking her back to wherever she thought they came from.
“Thank you,” the woman said, her voice stern.
Lacey breathed a sigh of relief. In her world, neither gangsters nor anarchists were in the habit of giving thanks.
“Don’t move,” she muttered to Pip.
“Pip’s not dumb,” he replied.
“Turn around, please.”
She turned, slowly, holding her breath.
The woman was facing her, pointing what looked like a long silver gun in her direction. It was smooth, iridescent, like something from a sci-fi movie.
She raised her hands higher.
“Not doing any harm,” said Pip. “Just wanna go home.”
“That’s the problem. I’ll need you to come with me.”
57
Argentina
The hospital reminded Alex of a spaceship.
Not the kind of grungy, down at heel spaceship that she was sure she’d end up on if she was ever lucky enough to be invited to take part in space travel. More the kind of shiny, high tech spaceship from science shows that liked to predict Earth’s technological future and get it all wrong.
They sat on plastic chairs in the lobby, a vast, glass-roofed atrium with gushing fountains and exotic birds flitting between tropical plants. The seat molded to Alex’s shape and she wriggled in, fighting fatigue.
Quiet, serious looking people in white coats or bright yellow smocks glided between doorways, all plugged in to the Hive. As they encountered each other, they would smile politely and make a little dip of the head before stepping round each other. They never made eye contact.
Alex wondered how they knew who had right of way. And what would happen if both people decided to step in the same direction to pass.
“Good morning.”
She realized she’d been dozing off. A tall woman in a white coat stood over them.
“I’m Dr Valhusian. I gather you’re looking for a Jane Doe.”
Sarita stood and held out her hand. Alex and Mike followed. The woman turned to each of them in turn and shook hands. Alex tried to surreptitiously wipe her hand on her dirty skinsuit first but that only made it more filthy.
“I’m afraid I can’t take you to her,” the woman said.
Mike bristled. “We have authority. We’ve come on behalf of the—”
Sarita glared at him. “We’re working with Madonna Ciccone.”
The doctor blushed and blinked a few times. “Oh. Oh, well, that… that, er… I really am sorry. I still can’t take you to her.”
“Why not?” asked Alex. “Is she OK? Does she have anyone with her? A young man?”
The doctor wrinkled her nose. “A boy brought her in. He didn’t give his name, but he was very young. They were both filthy.”
“Take us to them. Please,” said Alex.
Sarita frowned at her. The doctor looked at Alex’s ear and flicked her head back.
“If you’re working with Ms. Ciccone, why aren’t you connected?” she asked.
“We’re beta testing a new device,” Sarita said. “So small you can’t see it.”
The doctor smiled. “I like that. Nice idea.”
She leaned toward Alex, inspecting her ear. Alex resisted the urge to bring her hand up and cover her lobe.
The doctor shrugged. “Very discreet. Very discreet indeed. And beautiful too.”
Alex glanced at Mike, whose eyes sparked in amusement.
“So,” said Mike. “Take us to her now please.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“Whose orders are you following?” asked Sarita.
“It isn’t that. She’s gone.”
“Gone?” asked Alex.
She nodded. “She wasn’t wearing an earpiece. Couldn’t go into the Hive. She kept gabbling something about being allergic. I assumed she was a Hive Denier.”
Alex felt herself deflate. Where could Lacey have gone?
“Was she like you?” the doctor continued. “Was she beta testing too? Oh I’m so sorry. I do hope I didn’t make an error.”
“Don’t worry,” said Sarita. “Just tell us where she is.”
The doctor tapped her earpiece. “She left sixteen minutes ago. She had the boy with her. I do apologize, but I have no idea where they went.”
Alex clenched her fists. Finding Lacey and Pip had to be easier in Silicon City than it was at Point Zero, surely.
“We need to find them, fast,” she said.
She grabbed Sarita and Mike and pulled them to the doors.
Sarita jerked her arm away. “Cool down, Alex.” She turned back to the doctor. “Did you treat her?”
“Yes. She was suffering severe anaphylactic shock. If she’d got here much later, she’d have died. But she’s fine now.”
“Good. Thanks for your help.”
“Come on,” hissed Alex.
Alex sprinted to the doors, which glided open. The street outside was eerily quiet, considering how full of people and vehicles it was.
Mike was next to her, his face flushed. His beard was bright red, shaped like a map of Argentina. The doctor had glanced at it a few times but said nothing. Sarita was still inside, talking to the doctor.
“Enough of the pleasantries,” Alex muttered. She ran into the street.
“Watch out!” cried Mike. “You’ll get hit.”
“No I won’t.”
All of the vehicles here were above head level. People walked along the sidewalks, doing the avoidance dance that Alex was starting to get used to.
She looked up and down the street. “Which way’s the Bay?”
Mike shielded his eyes. “Up there. The light’s brighter.”
“What difference does that make?”
“When the sun’s shining, the water glows. It’s beautiful.”
Alex had only seen the water at night. Lacey and Pip would be heading back to the point where they arrived. To create a portal.
“What’s that?”
A car was ascending, two blocks ahead. It had a wide orange stripe along its side.
“Police,” said Mike.
“Will they help us find her?”
He shook his head. “They don’t like out-of-towners. And I may be a cop, but I’m the ultimate out-of-towner.”
&n
bsp; “Come on then.”
58
Potty
This was the cleanest jail Lacey had ever seen.
Not that Lacey had had much experience of jails. But she’d watched more than her fair share of cop shows and she had a good idea of what jails should be like.
Dirty, stinking, and full of pimps and drug pushers. Or at least that’s what her teenage Illinois imagination had her believe.
This one was quite different.
She was in a space designed for more than one person. There were benches along the walls, a toilet in the corner and bars between her and the custody officer who sat in a trance at a desk outside.
Except the benches were smooth and white, with surfaces so sleek she kept sliding off and falling to the floor. The floor was also white, and seemed to be made of some kind of self-cleaning material that righted itself each time her dirty feet came into contact with it. And the bars sparkled as if they were inlaid with jewels.
The toilet was so sleek and white that it almost disappeared into its surroundings. When she was unable to wait any longer, she approached it warily, glancing at the custody officer and wanting the floor to swallow her up.
It greeted her in a low, discreet voice.
“Welcome to the Portapotty T-200,” it said. “Happy to serve all your evacuatory requirements. Please take a seat.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down, holding onto her jeans to protect her modesty. The seat beneath her shifted and molded itself to her shape. She sighed in pleasure.
“So glad you are enjoying your experience with the T-2000 today,” it murmured in a low voice.
When she’d finished, the lid closed automatically and it flushed so quietly she could barely hear it. She watched it, impressed.
She went back to the u-shaped bench and sat down. Within moments she was sliding off the glasslike surface and slumping on the floor.
The custody officer flinched but didn’t come out of his trance. He wore one of those earpieces she’d seen on people here.
She stayed on the floor. It was clean, at least. She shuffled back to lean against the bench, wondering why she was the only person here. She wondered if Pip would be in a similar cell, and if he too would be alone. Maybe not, in a male cell. Or maybe they were both in isolation, seeing as they didn’t belong here.
She felt a lump come to her throat. At home she’d complained of not belonging. Not belonging in her family, where her parents’ needs were so different from hers and no one understood her. Not belonging at high school, where the popular kids looked down on her and the geeks were a species to be avoided. Not belonging in San Francisco, where she’d felt like a hick from out of town.
She’d never complain again.
She still didn’t know what she was accused of. Was being an alien illegal here? Not wearing one of those odd earpiece things?
She stood up and shuffled to the bars. She reached through.
“Excuse me?”
The officer didn’t move. He had his eyes half-open and seemed to be in a daze. A smile would flicker across his face at intervals of about thirty seconds.
“Hello? Will you talk to me?”
Nothing. She leaned on the bars, her arms heavy.
She straightened up. Don’t give up, girl.
“Hey, you! Wake up! Tell me what I’m doing here.”
A screen blinked into life in the wall next to her. She turned to look at it.
A woman appeared onscreen. She was the same age as Lacey’s grandma, and wore a turtleneck sweater and a chain of pearls. She had no earpiece.
She looked friendly.
Lacey approached the screen.
“Hello?”
The woman leaned forwards.
“Hello, honey.”
“Who are you? Why am I here?”
“I’m Doris, sweetie.”
“Are you going to tell me why I’ve been locked up? Where’s Pip?”
All in good time, my darlin’. All in good time.”
The woman gave a little wave. The screen blinked off.
Lacey ran at it, throwing herself at the wall. Where the screen had been was nothing, just an expanse of bare concrete.
“Where are you?” she cried. “Talk to me! Let me out!”
She felt her limbs grow heavy. She slid to the floor, shivering.
59
Hansom
Alex ran toward the Bay, Mike hot on her heels.
At last they reached the humming barrier that separated the city from the water.
“We’re nowhere near the Bay in Point Zero,” Alex panted. “It’s a half mile further.”
“Nought point six,” replied Mike.
“They would have got here and to come to a dead end,” she said. “What would they have done?”
“Headed along the shoreline,” suggested Mike. If it was me, I’d go north. Toward Fisherman’s Wharf. Or at least, to where I thought it might be.”
“Right.”
The street was quiet. On either side were tall buildings, sloping away from them with their wedge-like architecture. There were no vehicles here, no people.
“Maybe we should split up,” she suggested.
“Bad idea. Procedure is to stay together.”
“OK. Well, let’s head north then.”
They ran back to the last intersection and turned to head north. A Hansom was ahead of them, following the same route.
“Shall we hail it?” asked Alex.
“Do you still have the bitbox?”
“It’s still at the MOO. Madonna said it needed a bug fix.”
“Then we have no way of paying. Let’s keep running.”
They followed the Hansom, watching it glide in front of them as they sped north. When they reached the water again, the electric fence descended next to them.
“Is that thing following us?” asked Alex.
“It was in front of us. But it’s certainly suspicious.”
They held back, looking for cover. There was nothing.
The Hansom door slid open and a woman emerged.
“Sarita!” cried Alex. “What are you doing? You scared us.”
Sarita arched an eyebrow. “Nothing scares you, Alex Strand.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“You could have at least stopped for us,” said Mike. “Saved us all that running.”
“It was fun watching you dash about the place.”
The Hansom’s door closed. It lifted upwards and glided away, purring softly.
Sarita was wearing an earpiece. It suited her.
“You’re from Hive Earth, aren’t you?” said Alex.
Sarita nodded.
“I thought you were from Michigan.”
Sarita shrugged. “I didn’t say which Michigan.”
“Yes, but you led me to believe… Oh, never mind. Did you get anything else from that doctor?”
“She used nanotech to treat Lacey, and she included a tracker.”
“A tracker? Why?”
“She thought she might be a Hive Denier.”
“What is a Hive Denier?”
“Long story. But we need to get back to the MOO. I’m sure Madonna will be able to hack into it.”
60
Lipstick
“Get up.”
Lacey rubbed her eyes. She was slumped against the gleaming white bars of her cell, her face pressed up against them.
“Lacey. Get up, please.”
She pulled her shoulders back. Her body was stiff. How long had she been asleep?
She shifted into a kneeling position and looked through the bars.
Beyond them was a woman. She was slim with blonde hair and a beauty spot above her lip.
“Who are you?”
She looked past the woman. The custody officer’s desk was empty.
“Never you mind who I am. I’m more interested in you.”
“I’m nobody.”
“That’s hardly true, is it? You’re quite
the somebody.”
Lacey shook her head. “No. I’m really not. I just got unlucky.”
She pulled herself upright, her knuckles white against the bars.
“Have you come to tell me why I’m being held here?”
“You’re a clever girl. I thought you’d have worked that out by now.”
She shook her head. “My brain’s stopped working.”
The woman chuckled under her breath.
“Where’s Pip? The kid I was brought in with.”
“He’s a clever one, too.”
Lacey shivered.
“Thinking about Point Zero?”
She froze. “How do you know about that?”
The woman approached. She wore lipstick in a red so deep it felt as it Lacey might go swimming in it. She was dressed in a black Lycra catsuit and a lab coat, and wore heels so high they made Lacey feel vertiginous just to look at them.
“I know about a lot of things. I know, for example, what Doctor Valhusian inserted in your neck.”
“What?”
Lacey brought her fingers up to her neck and started exploring. There was no bulge, no scar.
“You won’t find it. It’s nanotech. Long since worked its way into your blood stream.”
Lacey felt ice run down her back.
“What is it? What will it do?”
“It boosts your immune system. Helped you fight off the allergic reaction to those horrible cats.”
“How do you know about the cats?”
“Like I say, I know about a lot of things.” The woman sighed. “Look, Lacey. We seem to have got off on the wrong foot. I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to understand.”
“Understand what? Are you going to let me out of here?”
“Yes. My dear girl. Yes, I am.”
Lacey’s limbs loosened. “I’m going to go home?”
“I’m afraid that isn’t up to me.”
“Who is it up to then?”
The woman held a finger up to silence her. She walked to one side of the bars, disappearing from view. Lacey pressed herself up against the bars, trying to follow her. She tried to press her face through the gap but it was too small.