by Brandon Mull
Cole groaned. “I don’t know. Who’s going to help us in the next kingdom?”
“What if Joe and Mira teach us how to contact the Unseen?” Dalton asked. “What if they give us a note or something that lets us get help from the rebels anywhere? Wouldn’t that be faster than sticking with them?”
“Maybe,” Cole said, feeling torn. “Why are you asking now? Because of that message from Trillian?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it,” Dalton said.
“I have. I don’t know. The guy is scary, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong. Supposedly he can’t lie. Maybe my help really is important to the rebellion. I’ve saved Mira before. What she’s doing matters to this whole world. Her dad is a monster. And his shapecrafters keep building actual monsters. If Mira and her sisters can’t defeat him, this whole world could be doomed.”
“You care about Mira,” Dalton said.
Cole felt unwanted tears sting his eyes. “Of course I do! I care about everybody. I care about her and Twitch and Jace. I care about Jenna and the other kids who got kidnapped with us too. I think me, you, Mira, and Jace make a good team. My first choice would be to find the others with their help. And to help Mira along the way.”
“And save the entire Outskirts,” Dalton said.
“Maybe,” Cole replied softly. “Especially if that means helping Mira.”
“It’s nice to have friends,” Dalton said. “But it gets us into trouble. Her dad cares a lot more about finding her than he does about us. And helping her find her sisters leads us into ugly situations.”
“So we abandon her?” Cole said.
“I don’t mean we leave her stranded and friendless,” Dalton said. “She has Joe and Jace. I’m sure wherever she goes she’ll find other people to help her, like Skye. People with more skills than we have.”
“I don’t know,” Cole said. “My power was looking pretty useful before it got blocked. Trillian seemed to think it would be crucial.”
“Are you going to let him plan your future?” Dalton asked. “Didn’t you almost get killed the last time you visited him? Didn’t he try to take you prisoner?”
“You think he’s wrong?”
“I think it’s easy to say you can’t lie. What proof do we have? He’s an evil menace they locked up years ago. People avoid him like the plague. He could be telling the truth, Cole. I’m just not in a hurry to believe him.”
Cole thought about it. “I don’t know either. He might have just been trying to control me.”
“What if we find Jenna tomorrow?” Dalton asked. “Let’s say we also have a way home. Do we go? Do we try to find all the other kids first? Do we wait to help Mira?”
Cole had fretted about similar questions. “I honestly don’t know. I’d hate to ditch the other kids. I’d hate to run out on Mira.”
“It’ll be hard to find all of them,” Dalton said. “I don’t even know them all. And sure, this world has problems, but so does ours. That doesn’t mean I rush out and join the army or the Peace Corps so I can personally solve everything. We’re still just kids.”
“You’re saying if we get the chance, we should leave?”
“I’m wondering what you think,” Dalton said.
“I want to help Mira unless it makes no sense to stay with her,” Cole said, feeling the truth of the words as he spoke them. “And I’m going to keep looking for Jenna. I’ll save the other choices for when I actually find Jenna and a way home. Maybe when the time comes, Mira will be fine, and leaving won’t be a big deal. Or maybe we’ll never have the option to go home. Who knows?”
They emerged from the footpath onto the widest road they had seen. Shops and stalls lined both sides of the street. Other merchants sold from carts or off blankets.
“Welcome to Gizmo Row,” Jace said over his shoulder.
The shops all had open fronts, inviting customers to step close and inspect items or have them demonstrated. The street wasn’t packed with people, but a decent crowd of customers moved up and down the rows of storefronts, browsing, buying, and haggling. Cole noticed a lot of denim—jeans, shirts, skirts, and jackets. He wondered if he could find some jeans for himself. Did denim count as a gizmo?
One of the nearest shops looked full of strange aquariums. Closer inspection revealed that they were various types of water purifiers. Most were made from a mix of metal, plastic, and glass.
An older man with a curled mustache grinned from behind a counter at the front of the store. “Water is life,” he said, with a faint accent that Cole couldn’t place.
“Don’t you guys have water towers?” Cole asked.
“We do today,” he said. “For this I give thanks. Tomorrow?” He gave an indefinite shrug. “I hope so. For the sake of the children. Pause to consider—those towers only provide for the post. What if you go on an excursion?” He patted a small machine. “This condenser will strain water out of the air.” He pointed at another. “Feed this device mud, and cool, clear water will emerge. How can one put a price on such magnificent functionality? Such security against drought? Such profound peace of mind?”
“I bet you found a way,” Cole said.
“For you, a special price,” the man replied, stroking one of his smaller purifiers. “One hundred and fifty credits. I lose money on this. You make me a pauper. But it would pain me if you perished from thirst. I sell it to you as charity.”
“We don’t need purifiers,” Jace said, coming up behind Cole and tugging on the back of his shirt. “Come on.”
“Who is this prophet?” the man asked Cole. “How does he know there will be no need for clean water? Would he be so kind as to speak my fortune? Perhaps reveal how I will meet my end?”
“It’s a hunch,” Jace said.
The man gave a nod. “May your hunches guide you to prosperity. Consider mentioning my wares to your parents.”
“Will do,” Jace said as he and Cole left the store.
“A purifier could come in handy,” Cole said once they were out of earshot.
“If we were walking to the city,” Jace replied. “I have no plans to get lost in the wilderness here. Keep in mind, most of this stuff will fall apart if we take it out of Zeropolis.”
Cole, Jace, Mira, and Dalton moved along the row of shops. One place specialized in vehicle-repair tools, including a variety of jacks. Another shop featured lamps and other decorative lighting. A third had advanced tools like power saws and welding gear. Cole avoided getting close enough for the merchants to engage him.
Until they reached the shop with the robots.
“Whoa!” Cole exclaimed, his feet carrying him into the roomy store without much thought.
“Seriously?” Dalton asked.
Robots large and small moved around the area. Some rolled on wheels; some mimicked animals or insects; a few walked upright. They were mostly made from metal and glass.
A humanoid robot toddled up to Cole, all brassy metal and transparent panels. It was slightly taller than him and had a bronze mask for a face, with lights behind the eyes.
“How may I serve you, master?” the robot asked in a female voice.
“You tell me,” Cole said. “What can you do?”
“I can cook over three hundred meals using standard equipment,” the robot said. “I serve. I clean. I answer doors. I can handle all your domestic needs, freeing up your time for other pursuits.”
“Can you fight off robbers?” Dalton asked.
“I can sound an alarm and get in the way,” the robot replied.
“Can you sing?” Cole asked.
“I can be taught,” the robot replied. “It would require some minor upgrades.”
A husky man sauntered up to Cole. He wore jeans, a white shirt, a denim vest, and what looked like a leather baseball cap with mud flaps on the back. “Don’t tease the domestic bots
, kid,” the man said.
“What if I might buy it?” Cole asked defensively.
“You’d start by needing around eighteen thousand credits,” the man said.
“What’s that in ringers?” Cole asked.
“Ringers? You from out of kingdom?”
“You’re right by the border,” Cole said.
The man shook his head. “Kids are talkers these days. They love to yap. I don’t take ringers, boy, but ten credits is roughly one copper ringarole. You’re looking at about four platinum.”
Cole had much more than that but knew it would be foolish to reveal it.
“Why so much glass?” Cole asked.
The man huffed. “Boy, that is grade three bonded crystal. Harder than most alloys, and energy friendly.” He huffed again. “Glass would shatter. I’d like to see you try to break a plate of grade three. That would be comedy.”
Jace stepped in front of Cole. “How much for your hat?”
The guy scowled. “You cracking wise?”
“No,” Jace said in his most sincere voice. “I’m absolutely serious. I’d buy it right now.”
Weighing the reply suspiciously, the man brushed the bill of his cap. “Not for sale. I’ve had this hat for years. Too much sentimental value.”
“Where’d you get it?” Jace asked.
“Ordered it in from the city,” he said. “Place called Headgear. Synthetic leather with a waterproof sealant.”
Jace gave a nod. “Thanks.”
“Do you have anything we might be able to afford?” Dalton asked.
The man took a deep breath. “This is a bot shop. Nothing here comes cheap. It all depends on what you have to spend.”
“What about that little crab-looking guy?” Dalton asked, pointing at a robot skittering around on a countertop in controlled bursts of motion.
“Does that look like a plaything to you?” the man asked. “That’s a workbot. Tinkers use it to track energy flow in vehicles and other systems. It can find and repair damaged panels on a magroad. You’d be amazed by the energy surges it can withstand, the extreme temperatures that fail to bother it.”
“We’re sorry to trouble you,” Mira said, tugging at Dalton.
“Kids love bots,” the man said, waving a hand. “I get it. I don’t have any toybots here. Some of the junkers on the row may have some. I can’t vouch for the quality.”
Cole, Dalton, and Jace followed Mira out. She walked briskly down the road.
“What was the hurry?” Cole asked her quietly. “That place was cool.”
“Other shoppers were listening in on your conversation,” she said. “You were drawing attention. That’s not the goal right now.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re being followed.”
Cole turned and saw a grungy guy in denim overalls coming toward them from the direction of the robot shop. He waved when Cole met his eyes and jogged to catch up.
“I don’t know your faces,” he said, his friendliness sounding a little forced.
“We’re from out of town,” Jace said.
“Your folks are letting you wander?” he asked.
“They trust us,” Cole said. “You want something?”
“I’m Wilcox,” the guy said. “I overheard you asking about bots. You kids have ringers?”
“Our parents might,” Jace said.
Wilcox lowered his voice. “I’ve got a shop next street over. There’s some great stuff down on the lower level. Want to check it out for your folks? Bots. Gadgets. Hard to find items. Really fun. Great deals.”
“Why aren’t you at your shop?” Mira asked.
“Everybody comes to Gizmo Row,” Wilcox said. “I watch for clients here.”
“Are a lot of your clients kids?” she asked.
Cole was glad she had called him on it. The guy gave off a shady vibe.
Wilcox frowned. He tapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Noticed this one’s a slave.”
“Our slave,” Mira said.
“Mouthy for a slave,” Wilcox said. “Saw him talking up a storm in there. You have IDs? Papers?”
“None of your business,” Jace said.
“Isn’t it?” Wilcox asked, cocking his head.
“Is there a problem?”
Cole breathed a sigh of relief to see Joe step up behind Wilcox. Joe didn’t look pleased. Wilcox turned to look at him.
“Hey, Dad,” Mira said.
“No problem,” Wilcox said. “The young ones were pestering Chuck in the bot shop. I thought they might enjoy some of my toybots.”
Joe narrowed his eyes. “So you were asking about identification? Who are you?”
Wilcox gave a smile and a shrug. “Just a fella looking to make a few credits. Good afternoon.” He ambled away casually, hands in his pockets.
“That was good timing,” Mira muttered.
“Looked like it,” Joe said. “He was running some sort of scam. There’s plenty of that in Zeropolis. Maybe I shouldn’t have left you alone. Anyhow, I’ve got a bunch of credits on my card, and I know where we’re going to stay tonight. We’ll catch the monorail in the morning.”
CHAPTER
5
GWEN
Joe booked a pair of adjoining rooms on the second floor of a big inn made of concrete blocks. One room contained four narrow beds, the other two. All of the beds had mattresses that looked and felt like the mattresses Cole remembered from back home, though a bit thinner. A couple of cowhide rugs softened up the cement floor.
“An actual faucet,” Dalton said, standing by the sink. “With hot and cold running water.”
“A toilet too,” Cole added.
Dalton twisted on a faucet and let water run over his hand. “What a miracle.”
“The showers are in a common area down the hall,” Joe said. “They have one washroom for men and another for women. But in the city, we’ll have showers in our rooms.”
“Sweet,” Cole said. “This might be my favorite kingdom.”
They had gathered in the room with four beds. Mira would sleep in the other one when the time came.
Joe sat on the edge of one of the beds, hunched forward, hands folded. He cleared his throat. “It’s time I tell you my story.”
Cole perked up. “Why you wanted to get away from Zeropolis?”
Joe nodded. “That and more. As long as we’re together, the mess I made for myself here could affect us all. Cole, Dalton, in a lot of ways, we’re in the same boat. I tried to get back home, and you deserve to hear about the problems involved.” He rubbed his thighs and chuckled. “I hardly know where to begin. Some people know pieces of this, but I haven’t told all of it to anyone.”
“You’re from Monterey?” Dalton prompted.
“Right,” Joe said with a smile that was almost a grimace. “That’s a place to start. I’m, what, thirty-four now? I was thirty. I worked as a paramedic, and occasionally as a studio musician.”
“You were in a band?” Cole asked.
“Yeah, a few, when I was younger. Later on I just helped out when other people needed stuff recorded. Guitar mostly. It was fun work. I did most of it in the Bay Area. A little in LA.”
“You can shred on guitar?” Dalton asked, impressed.
“If shredding is required,” Joe said. “That hasn’t been the handiest skill here. Knowing some first aid helps at times.”
“Like with Sultan,” Cole said.
Joe winced. “I wish I could have handled that better. I’d never worked on an arrow wound.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” Cole said. “At least you did something.”
“Have you guys been where he’s from?” Jace asked.
“Monterey?” Dalton clarified. “I haven’t.”
“Me neither,” Cole said. “Don’t they have an aquarium?”
&n
bsp; “A famous one,” Joe said. “And a lot of natural beauty. Great coastline. Nice bay.”
“How’d you end up here?” Jace asked.
Joe clapped his hands together. “It’s a painful story. But it’s part of what I need to tell you. Let’s see . . . I was engaged to be married. Gwen Saunders, the love of my life. Our wedding was coming up. We were about ready to send out invitations. Her family had some money, so it was going to be at a fancy country club. Some of my friends were lined up to provide live music. It would have been awesome.”
“What happened?” Cole asked.
“I was walking by the ocean one evening,” Joe said. “I was lost in thought. Feeling grateful, mostly. Gwen is amazing. It’s ridiculous. She’s so smart. A lawyer. The kind you don’t want working against you. She’s beautiful. We both love music. Especially some of the oldies. Anyhow, the air in front of me opened up, and before I knew what was happening, I got sucked through to here.”
“The air opened up?” Cole asked.
“It was a Wayminder,” Joe said. “I wasn’t part of her plan, apparently. Just a mishap. She wanted to cross over to the Outside, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Did you ask her to send you back?” Dalton asked.
“You bet,” Joe said. “And she told me the same thing you guys have heard. Once we cross to the Outskirts, we can return home temporarily, but we can’t stay there. And those who know us best forget us the most.”
“Gwen?” Mira asked.
“Bingo,” Joe said. “I ended up in Zeropolis, and my fiancée forgot she ever knew me.”
“You’re sure she forgot?” Cole asked.
Joe scrunched his nose. “I’m sure. There’s more to the story.”
“How did a Wayminder bring you to Zeropolis?” Dalton asked. “I thought their shaping worked in Creon.”
“Or Junction,” Cole said. “Like when we came through.”
“Their shaping messes with time and space,” Joe said. “The time manipulation only works in Creon. They open ways by tweaking space. That works best in Creon, but it can be done all over. A Wayminder could explain it better, but I think they can borrow space from Creon wherever they go.”