by R. J. Blain
Most of the folks stuck living in the fringe weren’t troublemakers, bad people, or those deserving their lot in life. Sure, there were killers, rapists, drug dealers, the destitute, and those otherwise down on their luck, but many more were either orphans or people trapped in a system designed to keep them poor so they could serve the rich as grunt labor.
The clever gained access to primary school and worked hard to be invited to secondary school. In a way, I had been lucky. If I hadn’t stumbled onto Kenneth Smith’s drug operations, I wouldn’t have learned to read, write, and figure. I would have been another fringe statistic. I wouldn’t have been able to help Kelsie. Because I had used him as much as he had used me, I had avoided worse fates. I had learned to defend myself. I had avoided being raped, a rarity among the girls in the lowest castes.
I had made something of myself.
It still hurt to watch the fringe burn. The upper castes wouldn’t care; they’d relocate the survivors to the other side of the city and rebuild the fringe, giving the impoverished just enough to survive on before shunting them back into the cheapest accommodations money could buy.
It would take a few months for life to return back to normal, and the shoddy construction would begin its decay until the buildings needed to be rebuilt yet again.
A healthy working populace was all that mattered to the elite. The sick, the dying, and the elderly couldn’t work. I bit my lip. Would the aging population simply disappear? Would the government and its elite take advantage of the dae and the rioting to get rid of the unwanted?
How many would die because they weren’t useful to society? My speculations over what would happen worried me. Even though I had begun clawing my way out of my original caste, being educated and smart would only take me so far.
Unless I became educated, smart, and just as wealthy as the other elite, I wouldn’t be free of the system—or be in any position to change it. An elite could, at any moment, take a single look at me, decide I was in the way, and get rid of me with ease.
Even if I made my way to the top, would I become just like them, or would I actually be able to make a difference? Would the emergence of the dae change anything? I grabbed my tablet and the list of names Kenneth wanted sniffed out. While I was good at finding people, my marks were usually alive.
If Terry Moore was any indication, I’d be looking for piles of ash—if the dae had left anything to be found. There was so much I didn’t understand, and until I learned more, leaving my apartment would be as risky as jumping off a skyscraper and expecting a miracle before I hit the ground.
Yesterday, people on the streets had been dangerous enough.
Today, they were as likely to eat me as not.
“This is bullshit,” I informed Colby. My macaroni and cheese jiggled, but it kept quiet. Was it watching the devastation on the television? “You’re one of them, aren’t you? A dae.”
The instant the words had left my mouth, I heard the scorn in my voice.
Colby stilled, and after a long moment, replied, “Mommy.”
There was something sad about its tone, and I grimaced. How could a pasta and cheese dish make me feel so damned guilty? I wanted to yank my hair out from frustration, but I controlled myself, sighed, and mumbled, “Sorry.”
Colby ignored me, and I had no way of knowing if it was offended at my accusatory tone. Maybe it watched the few parks of the fringe burn. Maybe there was a lot of riffraff in the fringe, maybe drug use was common, and maybe violence was a way of life, but everyone had left the parks alone.
They had been a symbol of hope and survival for most who wanted to be something more than grunt labor for the wealthy. The parks had been something even the elite didn’t dare take away. When my parents had died, I had found refuge beneath those trees.
It had also been where I had tumbled head-first into the black market world of Baltimore. Without those trees, I might have never met Kenneth Smith.
I hated my ignorance almost as much as I hated watching my home burn. Grabbing the remote, I turned off the television and went to work on my tablet. Once upon a time, the internet had been an open method of communication, but with the restrictions on who could learn how to read and write, it had become little more than a graveyard. The infrastructure remained intact—somewhat.
The original internet was a tidbit of history the government didn’t want anyone to know about. Before the crackdown and development of the caste system, people had been far freer, able to share ideas, information, and knowledge across borders. It had taken a little less than a year for the government to tear the internet down and begin controlling the way information flowed. Fortunately, they couldn’t watch everything.
Unfortunately, they didn’t need to. It didn’t take me very long to learn the chaos in the streets of Baltimore affected the rest of the world. The United Nations called the event the Dawn of Dae, and no nation had avoided it. It had begun in the eastern United States and had swept its way across the rest of the planet. No one knew what caused it—most didn’t care.
Unlike the President, the White House’s official website contained information worth reading. While the government didn’t know what the dae were, everyone supposedly had one—or would have one soon enough.
Someone had even managed to set up a checklist of symptoms to identify the newly bonded, although I had my doubts regarding its accuracy.
Some dae manifested as new people. Others changed existing people into new ones, like the pink-winged werewolf. Shifters were marked as internalized dae, or humans who had transformed under the first light of the dawning.
Apparently, having knowledge of what the dae were indicated a bond with one, which supported what I had seen at the college and on the streets. Those without dae, dubbed the unawakened, were at a major disadvantage. I wrinkled my nose.
I’d bet everything I owned the unawakened, like me, would be shunted to the lowest castes within a couple of days. Unless I was reading the White House’s statements incorrectly, those bonded—especially to the more desirable dae—were looking at an immediate elevation to the elite rankings.
I groaned when I realized these individuals would be asked to report to the colleges for evaluation, which meant I’d get a front row seat to the chaos the next day. As an unawakened, would I lose my spot as a Bach student?
I had that sort of rotten, miserable luck. Groaning, I delved deeper into the available data. Unless I knew what I was dealing with, I’d be in a lot of trouble.
The fact there were two types of dae interested me. Shifters were the obvious internalized dae while external dae could manifest as almost anything, but kept company with their bonded humans.
Did the external dae disappear if their bonded humans died? If anyone knew, it wasn’t listed anywhere I could find.
The White House had no information on any variants of internal or external dae, only a note they existed, which left me wondering what the world had come to—and reevaluating whether or not we were all afflicted by some global hallucinogen. Narcotics, at least, made sense.
People mystically turning into pink-winged werewolves, three-headed miniature giraffes with nifty British accents, and flame-breathing dragons made no sense. Science couldn’t explain it. All things considered, would scientists even try to make sense of it or explain it?
If anything, the United States would begin categorizing the dae so they could locate the strongest, and bring them into the ranks of the military to ensure they didn’t lose power on a global level. I grimaced.
The destruction in Baltimore was all I needed to see to understand the dae would have military use—and the United States wouldn’t hesitate to harness that power.
The United States, its government, and its politicians loved power more than anything else.
I turned my tablet off, setting it on my coffee table. “I’m starting to believe that the more I figure out, the less I actually know, Colby.”
“Mommy,” my sentient macaroni and cheese agreed.
A unicorn chose that moment to step out of my refrigerator. I stared at it, and it stared back at me. I had always thought unicorns would be white and shining with a pearly horn.
The one in my kitchen was golden, the color of the noon-day sun. While it did have a horn, it was made of metal and had holes in the sides, making me wonder if I could play it like an instrument. Its slitted eyes were sky blue with deep green pupils.
All I could think of was an old, old book, one I had sneaked peeks at in an illegal library while sniffing out information for Kenneth. It had been a tale for children, one banned by the government for some crime or another—probably for offering hope there was a rabbit hole one could tumble down and find a brave new world, one full of magic and wonder.
Maybe the government had been right; it had made me wonder, so much so I still remembered the words printed on the page years later. Unable to help myself, I blurted, “Do you know, I always thought unicorns were fabulous monsters, too? I never saw one alive before.”
The unicorn lifted its hoof and set it down on the freshly cleaned tiles. Instead of the thump or clatter I expected, it tinkled, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze. It trotted to the front door of my apartment, flicking its long, cat-like tail at me. Instead of a tuft of fur at the tip, it had a rainbow of feathers, which it fanned out for me.
Regarding me solemnly, it replied, “Well, now that we’ve seen each other, if you believe in me, I’ll believe in you.”
The unicorn left, although I had no idea how it opened my door without the use of hands. For a long time, I could only stare at where it had been. When I stood, my legs shook beneath me. I crossed my apartment to the door and tested the knob. It was locked.
At my feet was a single golden feather, and when I picked it up, it was as warm as the sun on a clear day in the summer. I twirled it between my fingers and wondered what to believe.
The President addressed the nation in the morning. Someone had taken the time to write him a proper speech, which he recited in a mind-numbing monotone. He detailed a plan of action, which boiled down to a plea to avoid killing each other and offer aid within their communities in any way possible. I learned nothing new about the dae.
“You’d figure someone would know what is going on,” I complained to Colby, getting up from the couch to browse through the refrigerator. The novelty of having a choice of foods hadn’t worn off, and while I could have survived on bacon alone, I chose fruit instead. Once again, I fed Colby a selection of cheeses and milk.
If I hurried, I could take some of the surplus to Kelsie. At the same time, I wanted to have at least some idea of what I would have to deal with for the near future. Creatures capable of breathing flame and eating dragons wouldn’t view me as much of a challenge.
They’d viewed Colby as a challenge, scattering when its tone grew displeased. That worried me. What was my macaroni and cheese?
Why had it picked my fridge?
Was it a male or a female?
As always, life left me with more questions than answers.
My ability to learn about the dae and work around them would make or break me. I had the unsettling feeling if I screwed up, even once, I’d end up just like Terry Moore, a snack for a werewolf—or worse.
I foraged through the fridge, gathering anything that would be best suited for someone sick, including the meat with bones so she could make herself soup, which I’d start before I left and hope she could handle from there. To my delight, I found fresh garlic tucked in the back, which would work wonders for her. The entire collection of fresh herbs went into the bags for me to take to the sick woman.
She needed it far more than I.
With little time and a lot to do, I stuffed four bags to capacity, emptying out half the fridge in the process. “Want to take a walk with me, Colby?”
“Mommy!” my casserole replied, and it bounced to the door and hopped in place.
I lugged the bags to the door, unlocked it, and peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear, so I shouldered the handles, waited for Colby to bounce out of the apartment, and locked the door, although I figured any dae, like the unicorn, could wander in and out as they pleased.
Ugh. I already missed my sense of security, and it’d only ditched out of my life a day ago.
While I’d expected the streets to be packed, people took the closures seriously, and I made it to Kelsie’s niche in record time. I knocked as she’d taught me, made enough of a hole to let myself in, and found the woman sound asleep in her bed, her snores reassuring me she still breathed. I turned the lights on, returned the bricks to their rightful place, and made use of her refrigerator, pleased to see she had some of the staples I’d brought with me, although she hadn’t had much and some skirted closer to their expiration dates than I liked.
Those went into the trash or down the drain, as the last thing she needed was food poisoning on top of whatever the hell virus she’d picked up.
I cleaned her best knives, started the soup, and woke her up with a shake to her shoulder.
“Alexa?” she mumbled.
“Rise and shine, Kelsie. I put soup on, there’s groceries in your fridge, and you should be set for a while. I need to get to the college, but I wanted to check in on you and make sure you had some fresh food while you’re recovering. There’s a curfew for the unawakened and unbonded, and I didn’t want you to get caught into it.”
“I’m fine on that,” she replied, and she coughed. “You brought me groceries?”
“I had extra. I put fresh soup on the stove for you. I’m sorry I’m not the best cook, but it’s fresh and there’s a lot of garlic in it. Don’t forget to take your medicine.”
“Mommy!” Colby added in the authoritative tone it liked to take with other dae.
Kelsie squeaked, and she stared at my macaroni and cheese with wide eyes. “Is that your dae?”
“No. It’s a friend, though. Its name is Colby. I’ll come check on you when I can, but things are getting busy. Stay home and feel better, and get all the rest you need until this quiets down, okay?”
“Okay. I can do that. You brought so much food yesterday.”
I’d be long gone before she could see the inside of her fridge, and I was grateful we’d dodge a severe case of mutual embarrassment. “You needed the help, and I can help, so I did. Just try to get as much rest as you can, and I’ll check in on you soon to see if you need any other medicine.”
After my run-in with the vampire, I could afford just about any drug she needed, although she’d be screwed if she needed a trip to the hospital.
“Thanks, Alexa. I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything at all. Keep an eye on the soup, make sure you eat, and get plenty of rest.”
I escaped her niche, returned the bricks to their rightful place, and giggled when Colby helped pack the broken mortar in the gaps to make it look as much like the rest of the wall as possible.
It wouldn’t fool everybody, but most wouldn’t pay the section of wall any attention, especially not with its close proximity to the dumpster. To add to the illusion nothing was behind the wall, I grabbed a stray piece of soggy cardboard, tossed it so it covered part of the opening, and left before anyone noticed my activities.
The walk home took less time than I thought it would, as the few people on the street dodged Colby, and few were willing to come within ten feet of my bouncing macaroni and cheese conglomerate. While tempted to ask my neon-orange companion why so many feared it, I kept my mouth shut.
It would use its one word on me, and I wouldn’t have any idea what it meant, so I’d saved my breath.
Back in the comfort of my apartment, I went to work on my tablet, detailing the types of dae I had already seen while speculating on their classification. The pink-winged werewolf, Terry Moore, and the vampire were likely internalized dae. Kenneth, on the other hand, had been with someone who had appeared human.
I suspected his dae was an external type, and one of th
e dangerous ones, too, if the vampire was to be believed. After meeting a unicorn capable of quoting Lewis Carroll, I was about ready to believe anything.
In a little over twenty-four hours, everything had changed except for me. I was still strange Alexa Daegberht, an orphan with an allergy to people. Maybe I didn’t need to change to fit right in with a society of weirdos.
It put me at a hell of a disadvantage, though. How was I supposed to survive—let alone get ahead—when I couldn’t fly, breathe flame, or turn into a bat? I headed to my fridge, grabbed an apple, and chomped on my fruit, considering Colby with narrowed eyes.
My macaroni and cheese bounced around the living room while armed with a sponge, searching for something to clean. I still hadn’t figured out how it held the sponge or wandered around without getting cheese all over everything.
The world truly had become a mysterious place.
“Colby, are you my dae?” I asked, wondering if I simply hadn’t manifested any of the symptoms listed on the White House website.
“Mommy,” Colby replied, its tone full of scorn. It stopped what it was doing, and I shivered at the sensation of it somehow glaring at me despite its lack of eyes.
“I’ll take that as a no. Fine, then. If you aren’t my dae, where did you come from?”
Colby sighed. That macaroni and cheese could sigh in the first place took me by surprise. Tossing the sponge onto the coffee table, Colby hopped to the refrigerator and bounced against it.
“Yes, I’m aware you came out of my refrigerator. I put you there. You were supposed to be a week’s worth of dinner before you became a living thing. But how? Why? What I’d really like to know is why a man and a freaking unicorn came out of my refrigerator. Are they dae?”
“Mommy.”
I sighed, grabbed two sheets of paper, and wrote yes on one and no on the other. I set them on the floor next to Colby. “Okay. I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions. If you want to tell me yes, hop onto this sheet of paper. If you want to tell me no, hop onto this one.”
“Mommy!”
