by Ben Farthing
Everard nodded. He wouldn't want to go to war against the thing outside the elevator, either. The Bloat.
"Climb onto my back."
A little emasculating, but he wasn't in a mood to argue.
"Wait." Loretta put a hand on his chest. She grabbed a fistful of Everard's shirt, rubbed it between two fingers. "Were you wearing this when you got here?"
"It's not from them, if that's what you're asking. I got away before they could put one of their suits on me. Barely."
She held his gaze. After a moment she must have seen what she wanted, because she let go.
The first suit came into view, lighter in hand.
Loretta stepped over the railing, still hanging on. "Okay, arms around my shoulder, ankles around my calves."
"Really?" She hadn't exactly been cuddly before.
The newcomer flicked his lighter to life.
"Nevermind, coming," said Everard. He wrapped himself around her like a kid riding piggyback. "Now what?"
Loretta pushed off into the empty space in the middle of the landing. Everard's stomach went to his throat. If he had anything left to vomit, he would have.
They fell faster, faster, and then their acceleration steadied. Each floor blurred by at a constant speed, quick, but slower than felt natural.
"Think you could slow us down before the bottom?" said Loretta.
Everard squeezed his eyes shut. He focused on them falling, on their speed. No. His will pushed against the mist. Their descent hiccuped, then continued on.
Loretta reached out to the railings, catching each with an open palm. It rang out as they descended the last few floors, and slowed them, minutely.
Right before hitting the bottom, Loretta pushed Everard off and said, "roll."
She hit the ground and rolled over her shoulder.
Everard attempted it but smashed into the tile floor with his upper arm. It hurt and would bruise, but at this point he was glad a bone hadn't snapped.
"Get up." Loretta grabbed his wrist to stand him up. "Let's go."
A lot of strength in a woman six inches shorter than him.
Everard stumbled through the empty foyer after Loretta. No bodies, so either Everard hadn't killed that guy, or they'd taken the corpse away.
Any other security must have headed to the top.
They ran outside. The body still hung from the tree. An SUV idled at the bottom of the steps, in the courtyard. Loretta jumped into the front seat, and he jumped into the back.
Brian was at the wheel. "Hey, man," he said, forced cheer in his tone. He threw it into drive and took off, jolting over the tiered courtyard before returning to the road. Bouncy pop music featuring a looping violin played from the speakers.
Everard lay sprawled in the back seat. "I didn't know you two were friends."
"She's letting me tag along."
From where he lay, Everard looked into the sky. Six hundred feet above, the top of Inc's tallest skyscraper stretched out away from its lower floors. Hundreds of steel beams spider-legged their way between the top floors and the ground. Brian drove between them. It made Everard think of being under some kind of bizarre pier.
"How'd they do that?" asked Everard.
"The same way they make ropes or anything else appear," said Loretta. "Only this time it was the CEO. He's got access to a lot more power."
"They get their power from that thing, don't they?"
"You saw the Bloat?" asked Brian. "What'd it look like?"
He pulled the SUV down a side street, away from Inc's building.
"I don't know," said Everard. "Big."
"How'd you get away?" asked Loretta.
"The Mariner's Box wound down."
"Bermuda let you use that?" said Loretta. "I'm impressed."
"I can be persuasive when I need to." Everard's false bravado melted away faster than he could force it into his tone. "Seriously though, what was that thing?"
"The Bloat," said Loretta. "A being from a nook far removed from ours."
Everard closed his eyes. Colonial cults and supernatural abilities were one thing. Interdimensional monsters were another.
The looping violin was getting a bit annoying, but Everard figured now wasn't the best time to pester Brian about it.
"Inc isn't people, is it?" asked Everard. "It's those suits controlling people."
Brian turned onto a main street, and blended into traffic. Everard avoided looking at the skyscrapers. Or at any other evidence of the Periphery.
"Only the top officers," said Loretta. "The cubicle drones are still people."
"Why do they do it? I saw people terrified to leave their desks, and that was only on one floor."
"They all want a chance to join the CEO," said Loretta. "Inc recruits corporate hotshots and bigwigs. People making millions of dollars. They go back to being cubicle drones, but now with the promise of ascending to the CEO's level."
"There's more than one CEO?"
"There's only one host at a time, but there's always several consciousnesses controlling him."
"You mean those losers I saw in their cubicles are all millionaires vying for a chance to stick their minds into a crowded suit? Why would they want that?"
"Power. Greed. General hedonism. The Bloat gives the CEO whatever he wants."
"Whatever they want," corrected Everard. "Why would they be willing to share?"
"I'm only speculating here, but I imagine they each plan on taking over. There was a rumor a few years ago of the CEO casting out a consciousness that had plans too extreme for even Inc."
"Into another suit?" That explained what happened to that extra host in the CEO's office.
"Could be. I don't know if he'd have the powers the Bloat gives the CEO if that was the case."
"Which are?"
"You haven't caught on yet? Inc buys their bent, one trick at a time. They're not burning that money—they're sacrificing it to the Bloat."
"He's the god of waste," said Brian. "Nuo Che wrote a song about it."
"Don't call it a god," said Loretta.
"Okay. He's the incomprehensible entity from beyond the Periphery that feeds off waste. Or gets off on it. Or is trying to spread it. He's connected somehow, is what I'm saying."
"That's why every time they use their bent there's way more than needed," realized Everard.
"That's what it seems like," said Loretta. "Although I haven't figured out whether the Bloat always delivers more power than necessary, or if the benter calls for more than needed, so the Bloat will think that's the right amount for the situation. Or maybe for the bill they're burning."
"Like working for the government," said Brian. "You use up your budget, so they don't send you less next year. What do you guys think of this song? At first the repetition was kinda boring, but it really grew on me."
"It's cool," said Everard. "Hey, when I was in there, I saw different things that might happen in my life. Like different futures. Then it felt like the Bloat sort of... consumed them. Do you know what that was about?"
"Are you asking if those futures are no longer a possibility?" asked Loretta.
"I think so. Yeah." He'd dumped Abby, but that didn't mean he was okay with her being erased entirely from his future.
"From what I understand," said Loretta, "that is how it works. It's wasting your potential. I'm sorry. Remember your life has billions of possibilities. If it took away the chance that you'd move to Paris and discover the cure for cancer, you could still end up moving to Rome and discovering it. See what I mean?"
Everard nodded. Was Abby Paris in this example? Or just that moment of them together that he'd seen? What had he lost?
"Where are we going?" he asked to distract himself.
"I'm taking you back to Bill Bill," said Loretta. "That'll finish up this emergency side job they hired me for."
Everard felt a sense of relief. Bill Bill and Mr. President had taken out the Lynch Mobbers like two avenging angels. If anyone could stand against the Bloat, it w
as them.
Shameful anger overshadowed the relief. He shouldn't need anyone to protect him. Regardless of Bill Bill's power, he couldn't actually keep his agreement. He couldn't protect Everard from Inc or Undone Duncan simply because he couldn't anticipate their every move.
Failure to push Inc back didn't take away the need to push Inc back. He still owed them a kick in the balls. Not that the Bloat had testicles.
Everard sat up to see out the window. They passed the cathedral-esque main building of Gallaudet University. "Are we on Florida Avenue?"
"Yessir," said Brian.
"That doesn't lead to the Capitol Building."
"Nossir."
"Bill Bill's not answering his phone," said Loretta, "but Bermuda informed me he's helping with the Barry Farm nook cleanup."
"I've got several friends supposed to be there," said Brian. "Didn't Inc organize that?"
"Must be the Burgesses fighting against them for the people's support," said Loretta.
Everard lay back down. He still needed to tell Loretta what the CEO had said about the booms, but that could wait until after he closed his eyes for a second.
He woke up to the SUV shutting off.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," sang Brian.
Everard crawled out of the backseat, stretching out the kinks in his back. Everything was still sore, and his stomach still a knot from vomiting. He must not have been asleep too long.
They'd parked on the cul-de-sac at the end of Douglass Place. It was packed with cars. Two-story brick apartments stood on either side, with manicured lawns juxtaposed against the cracked and potholed city-maintained street and sidewalks. Power lines sagged almost to the decorative young trees behind the crumbling curbs.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, concrete dividers, chainlink fence, and overgrown honeysuckle made way for an entrance into an empty lot.
"This way." Loretta entered without waiting.
Everard stayed close to her. Broken bottles and evidence of fire pits said this was a hangout spot for local youth. If it'd been popular for the homeless, there'd be lean-to's or nests of old clothes under the bushes.
Loretta led them to an abandoned building Everard didn't notice until they were on top of it. It was a shack framed with pine beams so dry they'd dissolve if you sneezed on them.
"Doesn't look up to code," said Everard.
Loretta walked inside. Brian shrugged at Everard, and they ducked inside.
Loretta was already going out the back. They hurried to catch up.
A chorus of conversation greeted him. At least eighty people now moved around the lot. Half were Burgesses, sweating in their wool britches and blouses. They worked in teams, each with a sucker fish-dog like Renae's.
Brian didn't seem to be reacting to it, so Everard let it go.
Everard spotted four suits with clipboards, and one with what looked like a Ghostbusters proton pack, vacuuming a picket fence.
The rest of the crowd looked like Barry Farms locals. They were assisting the cleanup teams, or arguing about where to go next. Among them Everard spotted Lucy, who'd traded her red dress for overalls, and Fiametta Vine, the plump woman from the faction meeting, who was carrying lemonade around to the workers.
The lot itself had transformed. It was bigger, for starters. Now it was at least the size of a football field. Four Dutch Colonial houses lined one side, a farmed field took up one corner, and a five-story apartment building took the remaining corner. Down the center were little one-story buildings that housed shops or restaurants.
It looked like one of those uppity "villages" they built in the suburbs that were supposed to provide the walkability of urban living without the poverty and crime, if one had been built in the late 1800s.
Everard squinted at the apartment building. Each floor seemed to be made from a different material, but he couldn't get a good look. Something kept blocking his view.
It wasn't just the apartments. Waverings in the air warped the view everywhere, refracting light wherever he looked. The sun shone down brighter here, now that he thought about it, and the view of the city beyond Barry Farms was blurred.
He coughed. Something acrid in the air.
"We're back in the Periphery, aren't we?"
"What tipped you off?" asked Brian.
"Keep an eye on him." Loretta took off toward a team of Burgesses. "I'm going to find Bill Bill."
Everard knew he should have taken offense, but instead he wondered if Brian could protect him as well as Loretta. He made sure the suits weren't looking his way.
"It's the Barry Farm nook," said Brian.
"Appropriately named."
"The Periphery set it aside for the freed slave Denizens at the same time the U.S. government set the topside Barry Farm aside for topsider freed slaves."
A man in dusty jeans and a button up shirt who'd been arguing with one of the suits noticed Everard and Brian.
Everard took a keen interest in the ground.
"You two here to help out? Here." He handed them each an aerosol can of insecticide. That's what the acrid smell was.
"I think we're just stopping by," said Everard.
Brian shook his can. "Nah, we'll lend a hand."
"Go see if that cashburner needs help." As he turned to point at the suit, an eye beneath his ear blinked open. It was bulbous and shiny, a metallic blue without pupil or iris. Its gaze darted from Everard to Brian to the other people around.
"What is that?" breathed Everard.
"That's what you're keeping away from the cashburner." He scratched at the eye. More opened up on his cheek, the base of his neck, the back of his hand. "They're coming through from beyond the Periphery. Probably pushed out by NSA explorers. There's one now."
Something buzzed into view. It looked like a long dragonfly biting its own tail. Three sets of wings stuck out from the center of the glistening loop, and kept the bug in the air despite not connecting to its actual body. It revolved in lurches as it flew.
Brian sprayed it. Sparkling greens faded to gray and the bug plopped to the dirt. The body bounced away from the wings. "Nasty," he said.
"You're telling me," said the man. "They lay eggs directly into your nervous system. Some Hexer obsessed with bugs tried to tell me it's a symbiotic relationship. Listen, I don't need extra eyes. It's all bright and flashy anyways. I keep them closed so they don't give me a headache. And smelling pheromones tells me more about you than I want to know."
"So, uh." Everard sprayed the dead bug once more for good measure. "Don't let them touch us?"
He blinked twenty times over. "Nope." He walked off, flipping through his clipboard.
"Who was that?" asked Everard.
"Couldn't tell you. Probably from the Parks family. They've been in Barry Farm for a century. If anybody refused to leave once that outer nook started bleeding in, it'd be them." Brian shook his can. "Let's go play exterminator."
Everard kept his head down as they passed the suits in charge. "What do you mean, 'once that outer nook started bleeding in?'"
"Like the man said, these bugs and all this," Brian gestured at the distortions, "pushed through from some nook beyond the Periphery."
"Where the NSA has been exploring." Everard finished the thought.
"Who knows," said Brian. "Inc's trying to bolster support with these sorts of projects. The Burgesses show up in greater numbers to try to take credit for it all. All while the Folkmeisters point out if it'd been a wealthy nook, or even a predominantly white nook, there'd have been a cleanup project years ago."
They reached the suit with the backpack vacuum.
"We're your backup," said Brian.
He grunted. "Keep those little shits off me. I don't want to end up looking like that asshole over there." He ran the wand to the vacuum along a fence. All the way down, the pickets bent and shimmied. When the wand touched them, they returned to a steady, straight shape.
"He seemed nice enough," said Everard.
A rolling dragonf
ly drew near. Everard hesitated as it landed on the back of the suit's collar. Brian sprayed it. He eyed Everard and punched his shoulder. "Don't be a dick," he whispered.
"Sure, he's nice enough," said the suit. "Still an asshole. You gotta be an asshole to spend your whole life in this rural shit hole."
Everard sprayed a bug that flew towards Brian. He was understanding now how Inc could devote so many resources to bettering the people's lives, and still struggle to win their hearts and minds.
"It might have its percs," suggested Brian. "Anyways, that farm keeps the Folkmeister's remedies cheap."
"Inc doesn't need those." The hum of the vacuum wavered. The suit smacked the wand and it continued on.
"Then why are you here?" asked Everard.
"I do what I'm told."
"Why is Inc here at all?" Another bug rolled by. Everard sprayed behind it, shepherding it towards the suit.
Brian killed it.
"To help out."
"Bullshit," said Everard.
The suit chuckled. He glanced over his shoulder at Everard. "You don't believe Inc could be doing this out of the goodness of our hearts?"
"You won't have a heart once you get promoted," said Everard.
"I'll have access to one." The suit straightened another picket. "You're obviously accusing us of being disingenuous. Why not just say exactly what you think we're up to?"
"Take it easy," breathed Brian.
"I don't think you're up to anything. You're following orders like a good little drone. But from what I'm told, somebody up the chain has started a goodwill campaign. You've already got money, so now you want power. My guess is the CEO is too vain to accept that the people chose the Burgesses over you, and now he's changed your entire company vision to get revenge. Is it still even the company you signed on with?"
The vacuum cut off. The suit looked Everard up and down. "You don't know your history."
Everard had tried to repeat what he'd heard. Maybe he'd got something wrong. But he'd pushed a button with the suit, which meant the suit at least feared something in what he said was correct.
