Chapter Fourteen: Eyes in the Sky
Kade sat on the cold bench of the small cell nursing a throbbing skull as he stared between bars set so thinly-spaced they would have been comical, were he not a prisoner behind them. For the past two hours Kade had racked his brain over the events that had just transpired. Confounded, he found himself struggling to accept he had been duped by a gnome. As much as he played it back in his head, he couldn’t square his time with Ponoto and the outcome at the Archives. Had Ponoto somehow planned the whole thing? It didn’t make any sense; there were too many variables. How had he managed to steal the dagger without tripping the sensors? If Ponoto were responsible for the murder of the Chronicler, how did he evade the security system? The body was in plain sight. Better yet, what motive could Ponoto possibly have to pin such things on him? Who would believe that a human had infiltrated a gnome city and perpetrated countless killings without being noticed? No, this had to be the work of that Clockwork Killer; someone with lots of practice pulling such stunts off. Why, then, had Ponoto essentially turned on him in the end? Maybe, he had honestly thought Kade had killed the chronicler. In his mind, it certainly would have appeared that way to anyone just happening upon the scene. But why wasn’t Ponoto already there waiting for him, as he had said he would be? Where had he gone in the interim? So many things didn’t add up that it made Kade’s head spin. The bludgeoning to the skull didn’t help any, either.
A noise from outside the room jarred him out of his pondering and he stood up, pressing his face against the bars. The single door to the room creaked open on its rusty hinges and the jailer, followed by a procession of small people entered the viewing area adjacent to the cell block, separated by a waist-high stone barricade. Leading the front was a fat gnome dressed in colourful regalia, bearing a small standard with imagery about as garish as the clothes he wore. The jailer unlocked a latch on the barricade and let himself into the cell block, leaning against a post with arms akimbo, chewing on something nonchalantly as he eyed the prisoners. The fat gnome leading the pack came upon Kade’s cell, pivoting around to face him. He stomped his foot and planted the butt of the standard pole into the dusty stone of the prison floor.
“All kneel before his royal gnomesty, King Thranshenmyxlonipzymf the Third!”
The gnome’s voice was high, tinny and incredibly off-putting. Startled by the sudden announcement, Kade saw the prisoners in adjacent cells get to their knees, if not begrudgingly. Kade followed suit, reasoning that any culture that still used medieval terms probably wasn’t shy with beheading disagreeables. Kade watched from one knee as a large gnome bustled in, cape billowing behind him and his multi-bejeweled crown glittering despite the din lighting in the dungeon-like setting. In his retinue he had perhaps half-a-dozen other gnomes, all very official-looking like the others, though Kade wasn’t one to guess their positions. The group stopped and stood rank in file behind the king as he approached the stone banister between them. He rolled his fingers across the stone surface as his eyes played over Kade as a hawk would while considering its prey. He nodded at the fat announcer gnome who then squealed, in the same droning voice:
“Rise!”
The other prisoners got back to their feet and Kade was the last to do so, making the scene all the more awkward. He reminded himself that, if he were to survive the encounter, brushing up on gnome etiquette wouldn’t hurt.
“So, you are our killer then, human? Is that what I am to believe?”
Kade swallowed, doing his best not to cower under the stern gaze of the king and all the eyes of his party honed in on him, like a jury considering a trial for execution.
“I…I’m not…I’ve never killed anyone!” Kade blurted. “Can’t you see, I’m just a boy! How could I have pulled off such a thing and not get noticed?”
The king stood silently for a moment. “It would seem that logical thinking has allowed this Clockwork Killer to evade us for some time now. Were it a child–and a human one, at that–to commit such atrocities, even under the baton of the true killer, it is not hard to conclude how that could be easily missed by authorities. Would you say that was fair?”
Kade looked at the others in the room. He felt as if he were about to be cornered. He moved his mouth to speak but no words could form. The king began to slowly pace in front of him, sliding his hand delicately over the smooth surface of the stone divide.
“In fact, it would be almost ingenious to perpetuate such a ploy, wouldn’t it? After all, who would ever expect a mere boy to be able to pull of such a charade? Though, a level of psychopathy would certainly be a prerequisite. A desire to inflict pain, foment civil unrest, to name a few points on that resume. Not unheard of, no, but you see…” The king waggled his finger in mock thought. “…it’s the cren part I can’t reconcile. How on Rynn could a human be amongst us and no one were to know it?”
Kade pressed his face against the bars. “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to…”
The king cut him off. “And then it occurred to me: a boy is similar in stature to one of the gnomenfolken. Would it truly be that difficult for him to disguise himself as one of us and hide in plain sight, as it were? More, the folk do not kill their own. That kind of barbarity is…reservedly human behaviour. So it follows then that someone could have easily planted or hired said boy to do their bidding, likely at cost, given a youth’s predilection towards desires non-monetary. Am I close?”
Kade frowned. “I, uh…”
“But, you see, what remains a mystery is how said boy could get that far to begin with. Let’s just say that gnomes are not considered legendary solely on the merits of being Fey. No, a gnome city requires prior knowledge to locate. We are meticulous to the extreme in protecting ourselves, you see.”
The king turned and faced Kade, glowering intently at him.
“Which means you had help. Likely from a gnome. So tell me this, out-lander: who is your master? Or is it accomplice? It matters not. Names will suffice.”
“Accomplice? I don’t…I’m not your clock face killer! I don’t work for anyone. I’m only twelve years old! I got here ’cause I was trying to get something back that was stolen from me by one of your people. Why don’t you ask him if you’re so convinced someone else is involved?”
The king nodded. “Yes, General Shmzlixnusslmevzhlirdo had mentioned your alleged pursuant after his initial debriefing with you. So let’s just see what the cren has dragged in, shall we?”
The king’s caller stamped his foot and pole once more, bellowing: “Bring in the enquirees!”
A guard came into the room through a door on the cell block side, followed by five homely looking gnomes, each hanging their head in what Kade could only imagine was shame. Each held a wooden plaque in their hands bearing a number on it. Kade’s eyes widened at the last gnome: it was the same gnome that he had pursued into the city–the one who had taken his coveted talisman. The gnome glimpsed up at Kade, sharing a split second glance with him. He visibly startled though he was able to contain himself in front of the others.
“Proceed to position!” The caller shouted.
The gnomes stopped with their backs to the barrier, facing the prisoners in the cell block. They looked as terrified and confused as Kade felt. Kade’s gnome refused to meet his gaze. The king nodded at the caller.
“Prisoner 892-3617, do you recognize any of the following individuals?”
Kade had to glance down at the code imprinted on his prisoner’s uniform before he realized the caller was addressing him. Kade cleared his throat.
“What’s going to happen to them?” Kade asked the king.
The king frowned at him. “That all depends on several things: namely, how well you cooperate and the level of involvement of the accomplice to which you shall name, as ascertained by my investigation committee.”
“I don’t have an accomplice! I’ve already told you that. I’m not going to name someone and be responsible for what happens to them when I know they’ve done nothing.”
The king leaned in. “Are you then admitting that you acted alone in this matter?”
Kade frowned. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all. I have no idea who this killer is. I only came here because that guy…” Kade pointed at the gnome at the end of the line who nearly jumped out of his skin at being signalled. “…took something important from me and I wanted it back. That’s all.”
The king eyed the gnome to which Kade had referred.
“Number five, step forward.” The king said in a brook-no-nonsense tone.
Kade opened his mouth to object, realizing he had just unintentionally implicated said gnome in a nonexistent crime, but the King’s caller turned on him and cast him such a look as would melt asterene, so Kade held his tongue.
The other gnomes in the file all leaned over and looked at the gnome who was now visibly cowering. He took one belaboured, shaky step towards the cell block and looked at Kade in horror, almost pleadingly. Kade didn’t like where the situation was going at all.
“What is your relationship to this human?” The King asked.
“I…I…he…and the…in the forest…but…he…and then I….” the gnome sputtered.
“Enough!” Said one of the officials standing in rank behind the king.
This particular gnome was decorated with multiple marks of distinction and medals along his epaulets and lapels, signifying him as, very likely, being the general that the king had mentioned. He ducked under the divide and stepped out in front of the shaking gnome, exchanging glances between Kade and him.
“My council and I will not stand idly by as you perjure yourself on the spot. Admit your crimes now or suffer the consequences of one assumed to have done the worst of them.”
The gnome’s eyes widened. Despite his small stature, the general did impose a menacing figure.
“Sir, I didn’t mean… No, you see this human he… He and I, we did run into each other, on the beach I mean… Nothing to do with the city, or this…this monster who is murdering our people, no no no! Nothing whatsoever to do with that…”
“Get on with it or I’ll be off with you.” The general said in a threatening tone.
The gnome just gawked at him, unsure of how to proceed.
“I think what he’s trying to say,” Kade interjected. “Is that we ran into each other on the beach and he stole something from me, after I caught him.”
There was a round of gasps among the gnomes in the room, the king’s eyes going as wide as saucers. A long silence ensued and Kade feared he had just put both his feet in his mouth, again. The king turned to the gnome who looked as off-put as the rest of them, casting Kade an incredulous look.
“Does… does this human speak truth? Did you come in physical contact with a cren?”
The gnome fidgeted. “No! I …well, yes, technically we were in brief contact. The briefest of brief. As one would swat a fly. But it’s really nothing worth considering, since…”
“Unfathomable!” the king voiced, staring off into nothing, as if he had seen the impossible.
The king exchanged glances with his retinue who, by the lost expressions on their faces, seemed to have no more answers than he did, shaking their heads at each other as if agreeing they could not agree. The General stepped in to break the spell on the room, clearing his throat.
“As dictated by Gnome Law, section eight point four of the Fair Associations and Citizenship Act, I hereby sentence enquiree number five to temporary holding, incarceration pending further charges of degnomeification and/or related infractions to illicit wrongdoings in the company of a human, as determined by an official tribunal of the king’s court. Does his majesty approve?”
The king nodded solemnly, continuing to stare off into the prison. After a moment, his focus set on his general and his resolve returned once more.
“Yes, yes of course. Degnomeification, yes. Of that I can be certain. Though…I never thought I would see such a thing in my lifetime…”
The general sighed heavily, breathing through his teeth. “Nor did any of us, your majesty. These are…strange times, to say the least. Jailer?”
The General motioned to the jailer and he made his way over to the gnome, taking him by the arms and ushering him towards Kade’s cell. The gnome fussed and cussed, attempting to squirm free as he pleaded his innocence, but in the end he found himself face down on the floor of Kade’s cell, looking up earnestly at the rest as they proceeded out of the prison. As the last of the retinue left the block, the General turned back and cast Kade an imperious look.
“Mark my word, human: if you are involved in these murders in any fashion, I will find out and it will be the dregs with you. The both of you!”
With that, he stormed out, rigid and precise as was befitting of his station. The gnome began sobbing on the floor of the cell, slamming his small fists against the stone floor. Kade looked from the gnome to the jailer who, gazing pitifully at the two of them, shrugged and, chewing his whatever-it-was, walked casually out of the cell block, locking the door behind him.
“Ooooh! I can’t believe this wretched, wretched fortune! Degnomeification? Can you believe this? Ooooh! Oh no, Drossk you have forsaken me! Ooooh!”
Kade squatted down next to the distraught gnome and put his hand gently on his back. The gnome bolted upright, swatting Kade’s hand away forcefully. He shuffled backwards on his hands until his back struck the cell bench, tears streaming down his face.
“Oh no you don’t, you vile human! That’s what got us here in the first place! Don’t you dare think of touching me, ever again!”
There was pure rancor in his voice and Kade found himself struggling to have sympathy for the enraged creature.
“Hey, don’t forget it was you who stole from me! I’m only here to get that dagger back.”
The gnome hissed, stamping his foot. “But you didn’t need to mention the beach! Why would you say that? That you caught me? You caught me? Do you have any idea what that means to a gnome? Any idea at all in that oversized, fleshy blob of stupid, stupid human goo you call a brain? Aah!”
He plopped himself on to the bench and began sobbing again, burying his face in his hands. Kade slowly made his way over to the bench, sitting down beside the gnome, being careful to give him space this time.
“I only meant to help you get out of the babbling mess you had put yourself in, if it matters any. I was, uh…worried you might talk yourself into a pit, or something.”
The gnome looked up at Kade, red eyed and furious. “Well a good lot that did, didn’t it? Talk us out of a pit, you say? Well now you’ve put us on a ledge instead!”
Kade frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you not hear what the General said? We will be sentenced to the Dregs! I’m certain of it. When the King sets his teeth into something, he doesn’t let go. He’s like a braskylnzhvadx that way.”
Kade just blinked at the gnome.
The gnome growled. “The Dregs? As in the Dregs of the Final Watch at the End of the World? Ring a bell?”
Kade shook his head. “Sorry, no. Doesn’t sound nice though.”
“Nice? Nice?!” The gnome jumped up onto his feet, nearly spitting as he shouted. “There is nothing nice about being tied up to a post on a cliff three bouts high, waiting to be consumed by a monster the size of a three-thousand year-old conifer!”
Kade’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that’s intense! All of that just for catching a gnome?”
The gnome looked as if his head was going to explode. He stopped himself and did some deep breathing, muttering to himself to regain his composure and reminding himself how stupid humans were. He took a long breath and faced Kade.
“Let me put this into terms that even you can’t get confused: this isn’t about you catching me anymore. This recent string of killings, coupled with the disappearance of the prince, has left the court on edge. A really thin edge. As such, they have had lesser reservations about putting others on one as well, if you catch my drift. To aid and abet a human trespassing in the city alone is probably enough to qualify us as fish food, let alone the stacked charges of conspiracy, murder, theft and…” The gnome swallowed, visibly struggling. “…degnomeification.”
“What does that mean. The last, I mean: degnome…degnomeinization?”
“Degnomeification.” He nearly vomited the word out with force. “It means that I will…I will no longer be one of my people.” A small tear streamed down his face.
Kade frowned. “That’s ridiculous. You’re clearly a gnome. Nobody’s word can just change that.”
The gnome shook his head, wiping away the tears that had collected. “That’s not what I mean, you dolt. I mean I’ll be kicked out of this city. And probably every other gnome city as well. Once degnomeification is writ, word spreads like wildfire to the other communities. Even if I wanted to move, I would be blacklisted from anywhere that I tried to go. I might as well be human at this point.”
“Why is that? That doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like you have a disease. Wait…do you have a disease?” Kade suddenly leaned away.
“No, you fool! It’s not about contamination so much as it is law. For a gnome to be caught by another race, especially human, is well-entrenched in our literature. Gnomes, by definition, are a free folk. Legends dating back thousands of years tell of the myths surrounding the granted powers and fortune that one may obtain if they manage to catch a gnomenfolken. For that reason, on our end we have long-established rules about not being caught, as it defies the very purpose of our being. Not only is it degrading to the maximum, it comes with a serious set of consequences, the greatest of which is degnomeification–servitude to the brute who perpetrated the capture.”
Kade played around with the information in his head. “So…wait a second. On one hand, you are saying that it’s all lies about gnomes granting wishes if they’re caught, but then on the other hand you have your own laws making you slaves if you are caught? Doesn’t that mean that it’s true that catching a gnome gives the catcher something?”
The gnome sat in stunned thought for a moment as he considered the youth’s words, his mouth moving as he silently recited Kade’s thesis. “Dear Drossk…I…I had never thought of it that way. Oh, Great Gnome, preserve me that I shall die knowing I’ve been such a fool!”
The gnome began blubbering into his hands again and Kade sighed, leaning against the hard stone of the prison wall. He knew that prisons had their fair share of drama but this was ridiculous. He looked up at the ceiling, imagining past the blades and blades of earth and rock that lie between him and the surface, up and up into the stratosphere and beyond, to where Rynn’s two satellites orbited gracefully in predetermined arcs about their mother planet. There, in the great colonies on the moons, Kade wondered if someone else, on those other mysterious worlds, was thinking the same thing that he was:
I might die tomorrow.
***
Kuu looked down upon the beautiful speckled blue ball and she sighed. She placed her small hand against the transparent metal serving as one of countless nano-plated windows in the concourse and she knew it then; knew he was sharing her stare at that moment. She could feel it, though she didn’t know exactly how. Had it been programmed into her, perhaps? Maybe it was a flaw in her design. Her next general service wasn’t due for another month but it couldn’t hurt to run a preliminary diagnostic. Though this wasn’t exactly a new thing.
As long as she could remember, her inputs had told her there was someone else out there. Not like her, but needing her. For what, she didn’t know, but she knew she would be there for him when the time came. And it was a him, though that was about all she knew. That and he lived planet-side. The dreams had shown her that much. Oddly enough, Cybrids weren’t supposed to dream—it had been truncated out of her kind, written off as extraneous workings of a poorly-evolved mind.
Yet, she dreamed.
And they weren’t the dreams of an eight year old, which is what she was, but something else entirely. But she dare not speak of them to anyone, lest the word get back to her Technician or, worse, someone in Oversight. There hadn’t been an anomaly on Tansis since the first colonists, and she guessed the Council wanted to keep it that way.
Looking out over the towering spires, connected by girdered catwalks, multi-level platforms and the endless streams of air traffic, all huddled safely beneath a semi-transparent shield known as “the life sphere”, Kuu felt a broken sense of pride for her home of Tansis. One of only a handful of actual cities on the moon, and by far the largest, Tansis remained mostly a colonial world inhabited mainly by the heartier species of Rynn–the gamza, poio and a handful of others. Cren weren’t uncommon in the colonies but they required serious mods if they were to inhabit the biodrome for any considerable length of time. Despite the artificial atmosphere and protection from micro-particulates that the life sphere offered, most that ventured away from Rynn seeking to reallocate into orbit found themselves either falling prey to agoraphobia, osteoporosis, or the host of other health conditions that came along with microgravity. But that wasn’t the main issue for most; there were many ways around those issues—devices that increased one’s stability through pressure-altering technology or antigrav tech that had been reverse engineered to offset the effects of weight loss. No, ironically enough, most Rynnians just couldn’t handle life on Tansis.
A strange disorder called Offworlder’s Syndrome—or Displacementia—where one’s feeling of separation from their normal life became completely abolished, left behind a frantic, almost zombie-like being rabid to return to standard conditions. Unfortunately, it had taken several “subjects” as precedents before Oversight made it mandatory for off-worlders to perform standardized checks during their stay, and never prolonged stays unless approved by immigration with extensive, necessary retrofitting. In other words, it was safe to say there weren’t many long term Rynnians on Lema.
Despite the somewhat cosmopolitan mix of beings on the moon, the most common race among them were the cybreeds such as herself. Ironically enough, they were, at least the majority of them, viewed as little better than rabble. This had its narrative in history, of course, as did any tragedy that attempted to justify its perpetuation through the means of time. None of this bothered Kuu, however, for she knew the truth of the matter: she was a descendant of those few brave souls who had managed to survive the Great Purge of CE 2815, when the Cren had turned on her kind. She felt no ill will towards them of course; it hadn’t been a part of her programming. Even so, it made no sense to since the Cren had gotten theirs; if one was to attempt to find a light amidst the culmination of Cren barbarity, it would be found in Cyopia. She turned her gaze to the coordinates where her analytics told her the great Machine City lie and found herself experiencing a strange sense of nostalgia, though she had never been. Never been planet side even. But it was there, in that mecca of perfect harmony of technological and social progress that lie the cradle of all cybernetic beings. Now known as the CASARI, those who lived there were said to have transcended form to a point where no one but the Casari themselves knew how to classify them. Their technology was unparalleled in every aspect and as an enclave nation, they flourished, despite their stark lack of communication with the outside world. Yet, they were Kuu’s people, despite distance and time, and she had to remind herself of their tribulations and triumphs on those dark days that threatened to bring her down.
And though the Casari had evolved, it wasn’t uncommon to still see cybrids on Rynn—those few remnants that had survived the Purge and fought (or bought) their way to stay planetside during their emancipation. Unfortunately, Kuu had never had the opportunity to go to Rynn. Interlunar travel was costly and, as Kuu only had eight years to her name and nearly as many credits, she could never afford transit planetside. More, she was unemployable by Oversight standards. This wouldn’t have been an issue if Cybrids aged—but they didn’t. At least, not in the same way that the Cren did. The chipsets governing her internal organs and all associated cells were hardwired in with an internal clock. Without altering this clock, Kuu knew it would be about 80 standard years before she even looked hireable, and that was far too long. He would need her help long before then—would likely be dead long before then—and she couldn’t let that happen. Why her masters had constructed her with such limitations would have to be a mystery solved another day. The only one that mattered was how to get to Rynn, and fast.
Kuu stared out of the window, as she always did at that time of day (though a tidally-locked moon proffered a constant state of day on Tansis). Her eyes tracked from their distant cousin-moon Kort, hovering barely a million kaldar away like a bread bowl in space (boasting little more than a military installation and research station), to the city’s limits, where the rim communities in the great Mari Magi crater, littered Lema’s dusty bone-grey surface like colourful swathes of moss. There, one would find condensation farms, collecting rock-ice and converting it to usable water, mineral processing plants that made the structural amalgam that formed most of Tansis’ framework, and other assorted industry. Following that were the city limits, markedly obvious by the sudden appearance of the elevated nanoplated steel fortifications which formed the base of the city. Next came the innumerable structures and towers that made up Tansis proper, most of which were comprised of sharp angles and utilitarian designs, as was the architectural trend during the era in which they were constructed, nearly two hundred years ago. One could easily tell where the first zones were located, given by the pestilence of rust covering the facades of the buildings and scaffolding which held it all together, as countless years of an artificially oxygen-rich atmosphere embattled the metal with oxidation. Yet, the structural neglect somehow fit into the broader form that Tansis was; as a politically-unaffiliated colony of the Nations of Rynn, the colonists were mostly on their own when it came to sustenance in any form. Of course, amnesty groups and NGOs existed planetside to help the colonists from falling into destitution, but the consequences of Rynn’s wayward gaze were not missed on Lema. As the colony relied mostly on private trade and bartering with ‘siders (as those from planetside were colloquially referred to), most citizens didn’t have the fanciest new gadgets and gizmos to call their own. In fact, it was estimated by Oversight that only about 40% of Tansis ran on Glo-powered infrastructure. The deficit was filled in by a farrago of Second-Era electrical-generating equipment, which meant the majority of city folk resorted to using heavily dated technology. Following from this, the culture surrounding such reductive lifestyles resulted in an explosion outward in every direction, ranging from rich futurists who could afford to purchase (and flaunt) customized nanocarbonite armours, to retro-grunge streetbangers, spiraling all the way into the distant past in the form of esoteric techno-religio cults.
It was, then, fair to say, Tansis could rightfully be called Cyberpunk by many accounts.
Despite its aesthetic blemishes, however, Tansis was a streamlined city in many ways, boasting some of the best connectivity of any capitol. The extensive network of scaffolding, ramparts, conduits and vac-rails which crisscrossed and spiralled between adjacent structure after structure, gave the viewer the impression that the whole city was tethered together as one. Several structures stood out to the eye; a large glittering, anisotropic dome inset into an outer quadrant was the Agridome, where ninety percent of the city’s agriculture was grown. In addition to being the city’s main supply of foodstuffs, the Agridome also housed the Exobiogenesis Plant–the EBP–where all of the colony’s local fauna were produced. Or rather, grown. A state-of-the-art genetic manufacturing facility, there was virtually no animal the EBP could not create. For whatever reason, the lunar forefathers had taken it upon themselves to transplant several of their massive gene banks from planetside, recreating a semi-virtual image of a world inhabited by lifeforms other than themselves. History had taught Kuu that the idea was borne out of functionality–to avoid the onset of displacementia due to the crippling feeling of loneliness, but she knew better. Whether it was out of guilt from wiping out eighty percent of the species on Rynn during the Second Era or the cren’s inability to adapt to new environments, ultimately, the imai were undeniably a product of the human mind.
Most cybrids didn’t like them–found them creepy in fact–but Kuu thought they were neat. In her opinion, the Imai brought a much-needed liveliness to Tansis, beyond the endless sea of structural amalgam, sterile metals and featureless channels that were ever-present in the city. Of course, the ‘siders would agree with her; they adored the Imai. And since that clientele brought most of the industry, business and hence money to Tansis, Oversight did as well. In fact, the Imai were had obtained somewhat of a revered status among her government, so much so that to injure one outside of self-defense was an act punishable by termination. Why Oversight had decided to capitulate to the ‘siders and their outmoded tastes, no one quite knew. Revenue was certainly a factor but the Oversight weren’t cren, and thus their motivations should have been more evolved than simple measures of greed. Should have been. Their official story was one of a mnemonic: so that the Colony would always remember the mistakes of the cren and never repeat them. And, to be fair, that was the one thing Cybrids did best: they remembered.
Everything.
At least, everything they were allowed to in their successive, government-censored reprogramming generation after generation.
Still, the imai were a point of contention among many locals. It wasn’t uncommon to find a blundering bear sifting through the refuse repositories adjoining the tenements of the urban districts, a rogue cy-coon rifling through the belongings of a vacationing tenant’s living pod, or even a wandering tiger slinking sleekly along the metallic thoroughfares of the street bazaars, with no need to pursue quarry due to the ample prey available in the form of vendors’ endless strings of hanging street meats. Some of the EBP’s “projects” would become pets in the end, but it was one and the same to most who lived there; the imai were just another problem in Tansis started by the cren.
Kuu sighed as she looked away from the troubled, seemingly endless streets below her and focused in on a large structure, about a half-kaldar away from her current position. The building was cylindrical in shape, with large, metallic ribbing visible across its surface which spewed out steam. The waste treatment facility. The ribs were actually louvers of a massive ventilation system, each rib said to be as long across as an Up stadium. Extending out from one end was a massive oblong structure which looked something of a blend between a mechanical arm and the barrel of a EM rifle. In truth, it was both; known to the locals as “Old WES”, which was a shortening of the facility’s operating name AESCWES–Augmented Electroconductive Super-Compulsated Waste Expulsion System–the apparatus was designed to fire compressed pods filled with waste materials out into the void of space at velocities which could easily escape the gravity well of the moon. Kuu had no idea how the machine worked, only that it involved an incredible amount of engineering and nearly a century’s worth of work to build, and that all of Rynn’s waste, as well as the colonies’, was inevitably channeled there. At least, all of the waste that didn’t end up on the streets of the slum districts.
More importantly, however, it was where Kuu needed to go.
She didn’t know why, exactly, but the dreams had been clear: WES loomed in the foreground, the main access doors to the facility not steps away as she stared up at the massive accelerator in awe. There was something–or someone–inside that had answers that she needed. The problem was WES was located in the Industrial sector and only personnel with class-3 security clearance could gain access to the grounds. More, Cybrids weren’t allowed to ride the vac-rails so, without a pod-chit, Kuu wasn’t even going to get as far as the zone terminal.
As was usual for her morning routine, her cityscape meditation had brought her no new ideas as to her next step. She sighed heavily and turned away from the window, back to the main concourse. As she did she ran into the leg of a passerby–a heavily modded cren in a long, black leather duster with metal fittings galore about its surface. A bounty hunter, more than likely.
“Watch where you’re going you filthy ‘brid!” He spat, the characteristic buzz in his voice as it emanated through the atmospheric-restabilizer strapped around his lower face.
He cast her a deprecating look with his one visible eye, the other covered by a metallic optic mod that Kuu recognized as a magnigraft. The ideal mod for precision kills. Despite his aggressive demeanor, his stride barely registered a pause as he continued on in the same purposeful manner. Kuu bowed in apology, hanging her head low as she uttered forgiveness at the gleaming concourse floor, the man long gone. As she started to raise her head, a flicker of light caught her eye from below. A small, rectangular object rest on the flawlessly-smooth amalgam of the concourse floor. She reached down to pick it up and knew what it was before her internal sensors had performed their retinal scan of it.
It was a pod-chit for the vac-rails.
The man must have dropped it when they made contact. Kuu looked around but the man was nowhere in sight, lost in the sea of people coming and going about the concourse. She scanned the crowd for the familiar biosignature but he was nowhere in the near vicinity. Kuu guessed he had already boarded one of the multitude of maglev shuttles in the area. She glanced down at the small card in her hand and her heart-analog nearly skipped a beat when she realized exactly what it was she was holding.
This was not just a pod-chit: it was a key. A way forward.
Excitedly, Kuu pocketed the chit and ran towards the nearest shuttle platform. As she waited to board, her eyes shifted from the holo-timer floating above her head which counted down the seconds until the next shuttle’s arrival to the people waiting on the platform around her. No one paid her any special kind of attention and, on this day, Kuu was glad for it. The chit had a strange kind of feel in her pocket, as if it too knew it didn’t belong there and struggled to settle itself properly, but she told herself she was being paranoid. Rightfully so; a cybrid caught with security-sensitive information that didn’t belong to them was a considerable crime. Of course, she was only eight years old and planned on returning it to the rightful owner once she found them.
Eventually.
The pram pulled up silently as it hovered mere pinches above the diamagnetic material of the track. The shuttles reminded Kuu of a segmented insect with sleek edges and innumerable windows for eyes, the same standard, sterile white of most amalgam constructs found in the concourses of the city transit terminals. She let people file in before her, fully aware of the undesirability of being wedged in the middle of a crowd as dense as the core of a neutron star. Seconds before the door closed, Kuu shuffled into the packed shuttle segment and several other latecomers shoved in beside her, hemming her in tightly at numerous crotch levels. As uncomfortable as it was to be jammed in like a sardine, despite herself, Kuu couldn’t help but smile as she stared out into the concourse though the transparent doors, the shuttle beginning to accelerate down the magnetic track at impressive speeds. It had been a long time since she had last smiled.
And it felt good.
No responses yet