Inside Out

by Maria V. Snyder

  “Sensor malfunction, Lieutenant Commander,” Riley said.

  “But the alarm—”

  “My fault. I accidentally triggered it while repairing the device. I apologize for any inconvenience to you, sir.”

  “Inconvenience! Your accident disrupted our meeting and woke every off-duty officer on level four. You’ll have to be reported. Name?”

  “Riley Narelle Ashon.” His voice remained calm. Impressive, considering how terrifying Karla’s scrutiny could be.

  “Narelle? What are you doing monitoring security systems?”

  Good question. Only the Trava family had access to the security network.

  “I’m with electrical, sir. When the device malfunctioned it sent a spike through my workstation and I came to investigate. I thought I could fix the sensor, sir.”

  “You thought wrong. What’s your birth week?”

  “It’s 145,414, sir.”

  Ha. He was only seventy-three weeks older than me.

  “You’re just out of training. How did you get assigned electrical?”

  “It was my choice, sir.”

  “Your choice? Oh. Top of your class. Well you obviously need more training. Report to Commander Vinco Trava for extra duty.”

  Extra duty meant the dreaded red cuff and hard physical labor in the lower levels. The uppers were probably assigned a boring or mindless task nobody else wanted to do.

  “Yes, sir,” Riley snapped.

  After a few seconds of quiet, it dawned on me. Riley hadn’t reported me again. Even faced with a punishment, he still kept quiet. A strange sensation rolled through me—relief mixed with…I couldn’t name it. Odd.

  “You’re dismissed, Mr. Ashon. Lieutenant Arno, your unit can return to their stations, but I want you to stay,” she ordered.

  The shuffle of feet faded and the door clicked shut. I decided to wait. No sense alerting Karla to my presence. I wondered how long I would be stuck here.

  “Where were we, Arno?” Karla asked.

  “Discussing the situation below,” Arno said.

  “Anything?”

  “No. No one is talking. The scrubs are terrified. They’re ratting out their friends. We’ve uncovered more illegal activities this week than in the past thirty weeks. Caught a woman who was raising her own children. A whole family unit.”

  “That’s new. What did Vinco do?”

  “The kids were too old for the care facility. They would remember a mother and might band together. He sent them to Chomper, and the woman was assigned to the sheep breeders.”

  He reported the demise of three children in a bored voice. Enraged, I wanted to strangle him.

  “Harsh.” A hitch cracked her voice, but then she continued speaking without emotion. “But appropriate. It would be dangerous if the scrubs formed loyalties.” She paused. “You’ve increased the pressure to find Domotor and still no results?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Domotor? Riley had mentioned his name, too.

  “Cogon’s our best suspect, but he’s had dozens of scrubs vouch for him.” She paused.

  Dozens? Wow. I knew he was well liked, but didn’t think so many would risk their lives for him.

  “He knows something, I can feel it,” Karla said. “What about our informers? Have they heard any rumors?”

  “No. Everyone’s keeping quiet. No speculation. No gossip. It’s as if Domotor never existed. Usually when a prophet disappears, there are rumblings of unease and talk of martyrs. This time nothing.”

  Domotor must be Broken Man’s real name.

  “What about the young girl…Trella?”

  All of a sudden it felt as if the air shaft tightened around my body. I struggled to draw a breath.

  “I had a few of my men ask about her,” Arno said. “Keeps to herself. No absences. No reprimands on her record. No friends except Cogon.”

  “There’s an interesting connection. Arrest them both. Perhaps Cogon will be more informative if we threaten Trella’s life and vice versa. Put them each into an interrogation room. Inform Commander Vinco when they’re there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I had to warn Cog. He needed to disappear. But where could I hide the big man? With Broken Man? No. Cog had sealed his door.

  Arno left the office, but Karla remained. No more time. Risking capture, I slid through the vent, pushing Zippy ahead. Cooler to the touch, the little troll had worked. I wondered if Logan and Anne-Jade had invented a device to open locks. I bit down on a laugh. I would be lucky to survive the next ten hours let alone make another attempt to steal Broken Man’s port.

  I reached Riley’s storeroom. No sounds, but I paused for a few precious minutes before opening the vent’s cover. The place was empty. However, the ladder had been set up underneath the air shaft, and a wipe board rested on the couch. A note for me written on the surface.

  It read “I’ve covered for you, now it’s your turn. Meet me here at hour fifty-eight.”

  I erased the message with a corner of my sleeve. By hour fifty-eight, I would either be in custody or on the lam. It was doubtful I could meet him. A tweak of disappointment surprised me. I repeated my mantra. Never trust the uppers, the Pop Cops or the scrubs. It all boiled down to survival.

  As I climbed the ladder I wondered, was survival enough?

  “Shouldn’t you be in an air shaft working?” Cog asked. He was elbow deep in a piece of machinery in the Waste Handling Plant. Black goo smeared his coveralls and dripped onto the floor. A fetid stench fogged the air.

  “The Pop Cops are coming to arrest you and me.”

  He ceased tugging. “How do you know?”

  “Overheard Lieutenant Commander Karla. They’re going to threaten to recycle me if you don’t tell them about Broken Man. You need to hide. Now.”

  Instead of pulling his arms out, he resumed his work.

  “Cog!”

  “Hush a minute. I need to think.”

  “I thought it out. We both hide and then…”

  “What? We live like fugitives for the rest of our days? Or do we find Gateway and leave? Do you believe in Gateway, Trella?”

  “I believe something is going on in the upper levels. I believe the Pop Cops are lying to us.”

  “No kidding. You need to answer my question. Do you believe in Gateway?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We need to get you somewhere safe first and then we’ll worry about the next step.”

  Cogon grunted and pulled a wad of black cloth. “Contraband.” He unrolled the mass and a bottle fell. “Flushed through the waste system during a Pop Cop raid.”

  “Cog!” My panic increased. He acted so casual.

  “It does matter if you believe or not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there is nowhere for me to hide. They’ll find me pretty quick and keep searching for you. I’m going to let them arrest me, and I’m going to confess to killing the Pop Cop on my own and clear your name. And I’m going to eventually tell them I hid Broken Man, sending them to various hiding spots. And when they don’t find him, I’ll confess to killing him, too, and dumping his body in a number of tanks and feeding bits of him to machines. Hopefully they’ll investigate each and every claim.”

  I stared at Cog as my body numbed with horror.

  “See, Trell? It does matter. Because for me to endure, I need to know you believe in Gateway and know you’re searching for it. To know I am helping by keeping the Pop Cops occupied while you find it.”

  “But you’ll be fed to Chomper!”

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “But I do.”

  “It’s not your decision.”

  “You think finding Gateway is more important than your life?” I asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Aren’t you happy with the status quo? You smile at everyone. You have a ton of friends.”

  He held up his filthy foul-smelling hands. “This is the rest of my life. Nothing is going to change unless we d
o something. I’ve been waiting for the right circumstances. This is it.”

  One of the maintenance scrubs hustled over. “Cog, a group of Pop Cops are looking for you. Want us to distract them?”

  “No thanks. Go back to work.” Cogon met my gaze. An unanswered question still hovered between us.

  “I don’t know if I believe in Gateway or not. But I won’t stop searching for it until I prove beyond a doubt it does or doesn’t exist. Will that help you?”

  Shouts and loud voices reached us.

  He smiled. “Yes. Now, shoo.” He waved me toward the heating vent. “Won’t help my story if you’re found in here with me.”

  “What about the maintenance scrub?”

  “He’ll cover for me.”

  I raced for the vent and scrambled through. The Pop Cops must have been prepared for a fight. Surprise laced their voices when Cog agreed to go with them. Sure enough, the other scrub never mentioned me. He could have used the information in exchange for a better position. Proof of Cog’s uniqueness.

  Lying in the warm duct, I felt truly alone for the first time in a long while.

  If Cog was going to sacrifice himself, the least I could do was report to my work shift and pretend nothing had happened. Catching up on the three hours I’d missed, I toggled the troll to move faster, reminding me of Cog.

  We had been care mates. My earliest memories involved a confusing array of new faces, being upset and longing. Even though Cog was two hundred and sixty-eight weeks older than me, he befriended me. Life in the noisy and chaotic facility was bearable with him. Then Cog had his fourteenth centiweek celebration and “graduated” from the care unit, leaving me.

  I had known he would go, but I hadn’t been prepared for the devastation inside me. He visited and he was reachable, but his new life and friends kept him busy. The change from having him as my almost constant companion to seeing him for an hour every two weeks left me distraught and an easy target.

  My other mates didn’t understand. Life in the pipes was preferable to being taunted by everyone. Once I had my celebration, I left the facility and Cog found me. I vowed not to get too close to him or anybody, fearing the return of pain. But Cog just wouldn’t give up. And now he was gone again.

  I let the waves of anguish pound in my chest. Abandoned and alone. I rode my emotions as I would surf in a water pipe, allowing the force of the liquid to take control.

  Eventually, I fought for control and won. I shoved the sadness deep within me, locked it down and focused on the present. My shift was over.

  The cleaning troll slowed as it neared a turn. Access to a maintenance area was a few meters ahead. When we reached the area’s door, I stopped the troll and slid the panel wide. Wrestling with the awkward device, I stored the troll in a cleaning cabinet for the next scrub.

  As I debated whether or not to travel through the pipes or main corridors, the door opened. Three Pop Cops entered the small room.

  My heart desired immediate action, screaming for my legs to run. Logic forced my body to ignore the panicked commands. I gave the newcomers space and stepped closer to the access panel, planning to escape through the air shaft if needed.

  A lieutenant eyed my work suit and bare feet. “Finishing your shift?” I recognized his voice from Karla’s office. Lieutenant Arno.

  “Yes, sir.” I kept the quaver from my voice.

  “You’re under arrest.”

  The quaver dropped into my stomach. “Why, sir?”

  “For lying to Lieutenant Commander Karla,” He snapped.

  “Lying, sir?” Cog wouldn’t have given in so fast. Unless…My thoughts shied away from how horrible it would have to be for Cog to tell her about me.

  “We know you’re involved with Broken Man’s disappearance despite what you said. You will tell us where he is.” His tone left little doubt.

  The Pop Cop on his left pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. I gauged the distance to the panel, but hesitated. Running was the action of a guilty person and I—well, I was guilty, but I trusted Cog. It seemed too soon.

  One of Arno’s gadgets beeped. He grabbed the black communicator. “Yes?”

  The Pop Cops waited as he listened.

  “Are you sure?” He shot me a nasty look. “All right. I’ll be there.” Replacing the device, he reported to his companions, “Looks like the little scrub is clean.” Then to me he said, “Your friend Cogon just confessed to killing my officer by himself. You’re free to go…for now.”

  He strode from the room with the Pop Cops a step behind. When the door clicked shut, I sagged against the wall, letting the metal cool my hot skin. I didn’t linger long. My next shift started in ten hours and I had a promise to keep.

  After a meal and a few hours of sleep, I aimed for Broken Man’s hideout. I hadn’t visited in over thirty hours, but at least he had enough food. When I slipped into the room, he sat at the computer terminal, looking well groomed for a man in hiding.

  He smiled with relief. “Thank air you haven’t been caught.”

  “Not yet.”

  He sobered. “Will Cogon tell them where I am?”

  “How do you know about Cog?” I glanced around. Was someone else coming here? The place appeared to be clean.

  “The computer. I can access general information. When I saw Cogon’s shifts had been reassigned, I assumed he was arrested.”

  “He was. But don’t worry about Cog ratting you out. He can be stubborn when he wants.” I explained Cog’s sacrifice to Broken Man.

  He closed his eyes and pressed his hand over them. “A martyr. He will be remembered.”

  My throat felt as if Zippy had lodged there. I swallowed, and focused on the ground. Broken Man’s chair legs had wheels. “Where did you get the chair?” I demanded.

  He wiped his eyes and squinted at me. “Chair?”

  “The wheels?”

  “Oh. I made it. I found an old toolbox and a broken cart. With nothing else to do, I had plenty of time to rig this up.” He straightened in his chair, grinning slightly. “In fact, I’ve gotten pretty good at helping myself. I can take a shower and pull myself into a chair. I guess my muscles are getting stronger.” His posture wilted a bit. “Trella, will you do me a favor?”

  I stiffened. What more could he want? “Depends.”

  “If you are caught, tell the Pop Cops where I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d rather be kill-zapped than starve until I expire.”

  Good point. “I’ll make sure someone knows where to find you, Domotor,” I promised.

  His defeated attitude changed into surprise. “How do you know my name?”

  I related my adventures in LC Karla’s office. “Riley knows I wanted your port. We’ll have to find a way to access the computer without it.”

  “Impossible.” He stared into the distance for a few moments. “What are the boy’s family names?”

  “Narelle Ashon. Why?”

  “He’s Jacob’s boy.” He peered at me. “You never asked me about your family.”

  “The family you invented so I would help you?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Even if you were serious, from what I read of the uppers, no real family would abandon their child in the lower levels, so I have no desire to know anything about them.”

  He put his hands up in defeat. “All right. Have it your way. We still need my port, though. Any ideas?”

  “I make another attempt.” How remained the problem. Zippy worked but would tip Riley off again, and the lock was impossible to pop. Unless the Tech Nos had another useful device.

  “Do it when Riley’s on shift.”

  “Why?”

  “He covered for you before and might do it again. Hopefully he’s sympathetic to our cause.”

  Broken Man’s words reminded me of Riley’s note. He asked me to meet him. And to trust him. I did owe Riley one, and would meet him at hour fifty-eight. But trusting him was out of the question.

/>   9

  THE RECYCLING PLANT OCCUPIED THE ENTIRE II quadrant. Piles of discarded and broken items littered the space. Scrubs sorted the heaps of trash into smaller loads. Other scrubs moved around the plant’s machinery, feeding metal into the blast furnace, glass pieces into the kiln and thread into the looms. And, beyond the equipment, another set of workers crafted goods from the melted glass, from the sheets of metal and the bolts of cloth.

  I wore the shapeless coveralls of the workers, blending in with ease. A few Pop Cops wandered around, and I practiced my cover story in my mind just in case.

  Heat from the machines thickened the air, and a film of fine grit formed on my clothes and skin. A hot metallic smell dominated. I pushed through the noise and activity, looking for Logan and Anne-Jade.

  The reason thick-soled boots were required for this area crunched under my feet, and I skirted piles of kitchen utensils and torn clothing. Nothing was wasted. Everything was recycled and reused. Human waste and food traveled to the waste-handling system to be turned into fertilizer for hydroponics. Water looped through the water-treatment plant and air blasted through a series of tanks and scrubbers.

  Even people contributed when their life ended. Their lifeless bodies were sent to Chomper’s Lair—a room next to the solid-waste facility—to be transformed into…I wasn’t sure. Wild rumors and creative speculation circulated about the place. Not many scrubs were allowed in there—well, not alive anyway. A few called the room the Final Gateway.

  My thoughts drifted to Cog. When a well-loved person died, scrubs would line the corridors to Chomper’s Lair to pay their respects. I yanked my morose thoughts away. They distracted from my mission.

  Anne-Jade and Logan sorted a number of small circuit boards. I joined them. Anne-Jade shot me an annoyed look, but Logan smiled in welcome. In order to appear to be working, I moved items around.

  “What are you doing here?” Anne-Jade asked. The words hissed.

  “I need your help.”

  She scanned the Pop Cops nearby. “Couldn’t you wait until our shift is over at sixty?”

  “No, I work the even shifts.”