Flood City

by Daniel José Older

  They’d sent explorers down there once, with cables attached to their belts, but their jetboots had run out of power and then they’d run out of rope and there was no sign of the darkness ending. The team had even thrown objects down to see if they could time out how far it took to hit the bottom, but the darkness seemed to just silently eat whatever they threw into it; no sounds ever came back up.

  Max was wondering what it would feel like to be that far down in the Hole when he heard footsteps approaching from the dressing room.

  Djinna stepped out onto the stage. “Max!” She smiled and Max felt all gooey inside.

  “Djinna.” He nodded at her, trying really hard not to look like he was trying really hard.

  “We have rehearsal today?”

  “I dunno. I figured I’d show up and see who else came.”

  “Me too.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds, all their useless little words having been used up. Max felt perfectly content and terrified at the same time. It was awesome.

  “That … song …” Djinna said the words carefully, like she wasn’t sure if she should even broach the topic at all. “What you … we … played … last week.”

  “Yes.”

  “It was … I kinda felt like it was the music that I’ve always wanted to play but never been able to.” She moved her mouth all the way to one side of her face, as if she wanted to swallow up the words she’d just said. “If that makes any sense,” she added quickly.

  “It does, it does. I feel the same way.”

  “LOOK AT THAT HUGE HOLE!” Fast Eddie yelled, bursting through the double doors and charging down the center aisle. “It’s huge!”

  Max grudgingly peeled his eyes away from Djinna’s face and glared at Fast Eddie. “You didn’t see it during the attack?”

  “Nah, I was out quick and didn’t look back,” Fast Eddie said. “Is it true about Deezer?”

  Max frowned. He’d been trying to block out the image of Deezer’s pale, broken body all week. “Yeah. I … we saw him.”

  Djinna nodded.

  “Wow,” Fast Eddie said. “That’s really messed up.” It looked like Deezer’s death was dawning on him for the first time. Max really hoped Eddie wasn’t about to cry.

  “Alright, people.” The voice made Max cringe like he’d done something wrong. It was Trellis, the conductor. He clapped twice and strolled to the center of the stage. “Let’s come together, hm?”

  The rest of the orchestra bustled in after him and formed a semicircle. “I have two sad announcements to make, my friends. Our beloved Deezer was killed during the attack.” Word had already gotten out about Deezer, so most people just nodded sadly. “And of course, Mr. Cortinas seems to have disappeared.”

  “Hardly,” someone muttered.

  Trellis raised an eyebrow. “Apparently he felt the need to, uh, make himself scarce after all the, um, chaos last week.”

  General mutters of confusion rose up.

  “As the most senior remaining member of the Flood City Orchestra …” Trellis began.

  “You mean oldest.” Fast Eddie snickered.

  Trellis frowned but ignored him. “I will be taking over as director.”

  Max’s heart slid into his knees. Trellis running the orchestra? No way. He could practically hear the music curling up and dying at the thought of it. They were just breaking into something new and exciting, and Trellis would never let them experiment. He was strictly by the book.

  As if to confirm Max’s worst fears, Trellis crossed his arms over his chest and announced: “And let me say right from the get-go, there will be none of that new whatever-it’s-called that certain members were participating in during the Flood City performance. None. I won’t tolerate it.”

  “What?” Max blurted out before he could stop himself. “Why not?”

  The whole orchestra turned its glare toward Trellis.

  “Well, it’s very simple,” Trellis said, crossing his legs and then uncrossing them again. “The Star Guard is here to protect us from the Chemical Barons, just like they have for the past twenty years. They say the pageant stays the way it’s always been, so that’s what we do. The pageant is wonderful, people, there’s no need to … Max! Where are you going?”

  Max was already halfway to the door. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he felt completely clear about what he was doing. He simply would not tolerate being in an orchestra that wouldn’t let him play his music the way he heard it. It had been instantaneous and beautiful and everyone knew it, and if Trellis wanted to kowtow to the Star Guard, he could do it without Max leading the horn section.

  There was a shuffling from behind him, but Max didn’t bother looking back, he just kept striding down the aisle and then burst through the front doors and out into the bright day. He was startled a few seconds later when the rest of the Flood City Orchestra stomped out too.

  “Oh,” Max said, looking around at his fellow musicians.

  “That’s garbage,” Djinna said. “If we can’t play what we want, what’s the point?”

  “Yeah,” chimed in Fast Eddie. “No one wants to hear that same old boring music anymore anyway.”

  People began to mill off toward their respective houses. Trellis came out a few minutes later, looked around miserably, and then jetted off to mope somewhere. Max stood staring at the Music Hall, thinking about the big hole inside it and all the dead people at the bottom of the ocean and all the music that wanted to come out of his heart.

  “Wanna walk around inside for a bit?” Djinna said. She was standing right behind Max, her face sad and serious.

  “Yeah,” Max said. He hadn’t realized she was looking at him, and he suddenly had no idea what to do with his body. “That’d be great.”

  “That was kinda awesome, Max,” Djinna said as they strolled up and down the rows of seats. She flashed that smile for just a second and then it disappeared again.

  Max grinned and then tried to focus on what had just happened instead of how flattered he was and how unwieldy everything felt. “It just makes me so mad. I don’t know what they expect, but I’m done with the old stuff.”

  “Yeah.”

  Max glanced at her. Djinna looked she was waiting to say something. “What?”

  “Your buddy—Ato?” she said. Max and Ato had seen Djinna a few days before and Max had given his usual not-that-convincing explanation about him.

  “What about him?

  “He just materialized out of thin air?”

  “Well, you know, like I said, his mom—”

  “Right. When’d you meet him?”

  “Oh, you know …” Max shrugged. He hated lying because he knew he was terrible at it. None of the words wanted to come out in the right order, so he ended up mumbling a few strings of nonsense.

  “Wanna try that again?”

  “About a week ago, I guess.”

  “So right around the time of the crash.”

  Max nodded. Djinna seemed to be staring right through his skin and directly into his brain. It was charming and annoying at the same time. “Have you heard from Splink?”

  Djinna’s face softened and Max wished he’d thought of changing the subject earlier. He’d have to remember that strategy for the next time he was in a bind.

  “No. Well … yeah, kinda.”

  “How have you kinda heard from him?”

  They walked down the center aisle of the Music Hall toward the double doors that led out to the plaza.

  “He sent, like, a general hologram to all his friends and family about everything. You know, they don’t have much time to send stuff with all the training and everything, so … yeah.”

  “General, huh?”

  Djinna tensed her face up and for a second Max thought she was about to shout at him. Then she just frowned and looked away. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Sounds like he’s having fun.”

  “Oh yeah? Yala sounds miserable.”

  Djinna stared at Max. “You heard fro
m her?”

  “Um … she wrote me, yeah.”

  “As in a letter?”

  “Uh-huh. A couple.” Max was trying as best he could to not sound like he was bragging, but Djinna looked even more hurt than before.

  “How’d she send them to you?”

  “The bird, Krestlefax, brings ’em.”

  “The one that perches in the tower I live in.”

  Of course that bird, Max wanted to say, there’s only one bird left in the world. But Djinna hadn’t meant it as a question.

  At that moment, they walked under the gaping hole that the Baron cloud cruiser had torn out of the Music Hall ceiling. An orange-tinged blast of afternoon sunlight streamed through it and lit up Djinna’s brown face as she looked directly at Max. “Okay,” she said, the single word soaked in disappointment. “I see.”

  “Sorry,” Max said. It seemed useless, but it was better than nothing.

  “For what?” Djinna said, suddenly defiant. They walked out of the sunlight and through the double doors. “I don’t care. It is what it is.” She shrugged.

  In the plaza they studied each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you at practice next week?” Max said.

  “Yeah. Listen, Max, I don’t have a problem with your friend or anything, I’m just saying: Be careful. Things are getting real weird around here and it’s hard to know who to trust, is all.”

  Max nodded at her. “I will. Thanks.”

  They both leapt into the air and jetted off in opposite directions.

  Ato looked up from one of Yala’s old history textbooks as Max came zooming into a landing on the balcony. “Um.”

  “Um what?” Max said, panting a little as he pulled off his jetboots and flopped into a reclining chair.

  “The Star Guard think the Barons caused the Floods?”

  Max squinted at Ato. “Y’all did.”

  Ato blinked. “That’s not what … I mean …” He held up the book. “You believe this stuff? It’s so obviously propaganda to make the Star Guard look good.”

  “Of course it is, and they bend the facts on some stuff, but that doesn’t mean other stuff isn’t true. The Barons causing the Floods is a known fact. Why do you think you guys all made it out and basically nobody else did? The Barons left before the Floods. Didn’t bother telling anyone, just caused ’em and booked.”

  “Well …” Ato started. “I mean …”

  “Do you honestly think the Barons would be admitting it openly in their textbooks if they had, Ato?”

  Ato shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t think …” It couldn’t be. The Baron Academy holodocs were equally slanted, the other way of course, but Ato had always figured there was some truth to them anyway, just like Max said about his. The Floods being a natural occurrence, as the Barons claimed, wasn’t an entirely impossible theory. Floods … happened. But still … “If you believe that,” Ato said, “how can you … ? Don’t you … hate me?”

  Max looked him up and down carefully, eyes narrowed. “You aight,” he conceded with a shrug.

  Ato’s eyes were wide.

  Max punched him on the shoulder. “I’m kidding! You’re, like, my best friend! Of course I don’t hate you. Your folks are bad people though. I definitely hate them. They can rot. So I guess that’s kinda messed up, now that I think about it. And if you ever go all Baron on me and decide you wanna blow us up or whatever too, I mean, then we’d have a problem. But somehow I feel like if things came down to it, you’d have my back, Flood City’s back, in a fight.”

  Ato nodded. He’d only been here a little over a week, but he knew it was true. He’d never felt so accepted, never felt like he could fully be who he really was, not some twisted version of himself, until he’d gotten to Flood City. And without having to think about it, he knew what Max said was true.

  “Even against the Barons.”

  “Yes,” Ato said.

  “Bet.” Max pulled out a bag of dougies and held one out to Ato. “Why you crying, man?”

  “I’m not!” Ato said, wiping his eyes. “I just … it’s a lot. I don’t know.” He shoved a dougie in his mouth, let the sweet juiciness of it fill him.

  “You’re overthinking, my dude, and anyway, we got more important things to talk about than world destruction and your responsibility in such acts.”

  Ato almost spat out the dougie. “Oh my god!” He wiped the last few tears away and then wiggled his eyebrows. “How’d it go with the holographer’s daughter?”

  “Fine.” Max shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Man, you have got to learn how to lie better. You’re squirming!”

  “I am not! I mean, I always squirm after I jetboot around.”

  “Lies.”

  “I just feel …” He looked around the room, then just walked out to the balcony without saying a word.

  Ato followed him. For a few moments they both just stared at the gaping tunnel across the chasm, the spot where they’d first met. A soft drizzle fell from the gray skies.

  “I don’t know what to do with myself around her,” Max said. “You know?”

  “No, actually,” Ato said. “I’ve never had a crush on anyone.”

  “Never? Whoa.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s like the best thing and the worst thing ever all at the same time. But I dunno, now that we’re becoming friends, it feels like everything has calmed down a little.”

  “Even while the rest of the world has ratcheted all the chaos up to ten.”

  “Ha … I guess so, yeah.” He cracked a sudden smile. “Anyway, let’s get out of here.”

  “Where you want to go?”

  “I dunno. Cause some trouble.”

  It felt good to be out and about. Max had too many different thought lines rushing through his mind to just sit at home. At least out here, zipping easily down alleyways and swooping up above the city, he could feel fresh and free and not tied down by everything going on. It was amazing how well Ato seemed to be adjusting to this whole new life. He’d probably left behind one that was unlike it in every way, not to mention all his people.

  “Awkward question coming,” Max said as they sloped into a downward trajectory toward an open area between two brick buildings.

  “Impossible!” Ato snorted.

  “Do you, like … miss your parents?”

  “Oh.”

  Max cringed as Ato slowed his jetboots to a hover. Why did he always put words to thoughts? “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked. I just—”

  Ato waved him off. “It’s fine! I’m okay. I just slowed because … I had to think about it. Which I guess is your answer, huh? I mean, I do, but I also don’t?”

  They fell back into a slow glide, skirted around the edge of Barge Annex toward the Music Hall. “My parents … my whole family—they’re not the warmest people, really. Like you know how when you come home, your mom kisses you on the cheek and asks about your day? Yeah, that’s … that’s not a thing for us. They’re not mean! They’re just not … they don’t show a lot of love. Outwardly.”

  “That sounds kinda rough,” Max said.

  “What about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your … dad?”

  “Oh, ha!” Max didn’t know why the mention of his dad made him laugh—there was nothing funny about the situation at all. Maybe it was the absurdity of not even realizing what Ato had been asking about at first. Ato looked a little horrified. It was hard, Max realized for the three hundredth time since he’d started hanging out with his new friend, to explain a place like Flood City.

  “We’ve lost a lot of people here. People get lost at sea, they disappear without a trace sometimes. They go on expeditions and never come back. It’s part of life here. My dad joined an exploratory mission to try to find land before I was born and never came back.”

  “Oh man. I’m sorry,” Ato said. “Maybe he’s—”

  Max shook his head. He’d never liked the idea that his dad was
out there somewhere, living some other life faraway. Sure, it was possible, but only barely. And what if he was? Max had never known him, so it hardly mattered. “No, man. He’s dead. Or presumed so anyway. We say his name at the Hole every year along with all our other dead—well, almost every year. And I’m sad for my mom, but it’s not something I sit around and think about.”

  “Wow,” Ato said.

  They loop-de-looped through the mini-plaza, sped under a crumbly bridge, and then fell into a slow glide down one of the more impossible-to-navigate corridors.

  “Anyway,” Max went on, finally getting to what he’d only just realized he’d been trying to say all along, “the first group of kids here, our parents, had lost almost all their families in the Floods, so the adults kind of became everybody’s parents, and that’s just how this place is: We all look out for each other.”

  Ato opened his mouth, probably to say something deep, but stopped. “What are you doing?”

  Max had pulled a can of spray paint out of his satchel and was shaking it up. “Shhhh!” he hissed. “Keep an eye out.”

  “But—”

  “I said shhh!”

  They were hovering in front of a Star Guard transporter. The crew had left it parked on top of someone’s house, as they often did, and probably all gone to sleep inside. The ship itself seemed to be slumbering. A gentle hum emanated from it, but otherwise everything was still and quiet.

  “You’re not gonna …” Ato started to say, but then Max sprayed a line of paint across the wall of the transporter. “Max!”

  “Look, Ato,” Max said without taking his eyes off the wall. He started another line, this one curving around from the top of the first and connecting back to it halfway down. “You can either stay and shut up or go home and shut up. But either way, I need you to shut up.”

  Ato nodded and glanced up and down the alleyway.

  “There,” Max said a few minutes later. “All done.” He jetted back a little and took in his work.