Age of Order

by Julian North

  “What you doin’? Let’s go,” Kortilla urged.

  I broke out of my trance, falling back in beside my friend. “She’s got the Waste…”

  Kortilla didn’t look back. “Least of her problems. She’s an addict and on her way to worse. Half lurker already. You see those scabs? And her eyes? Better the Waste than become one of the friggin’ Z-Pop zombies…”

  “It starts around the same age…We’re not too far away.”

  “We ain’t getting the Waste. You’re in the best shape of any person I know, and neither of us touch the Pop,” Kortilla assured me.

  “Neither did Mateo. People have been dying for five years, and nobody knows anything. People barely talk about it.”

  “Everyone is dying around here, Daniela. Gangs, or Z-Pop, or Resister-H, cancer, or whatever. The Waste is just another item on the list.”

  “But it kills people our age. No one else. Just us. Teenagers, and maybe a bit older.”

  “So live for now,” Kortilla said, a touch of defiance in her voice. “Enjoy the days we have, before the Orderists decide that the low AT classes are too much of a burden on society.”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  I couldn’t sleep, so I set off for school early.

  A wave of my viser and twenty minutes on the subway took me to Wonderland: doormen tidied the area in front of their buildings, sanitation workers collected refuse, servants walked overweight dogs with shining fur, dutifully cleaning up after their charges. Real flowers and trees grew in planters along the sidewalks of Park Avenue. Hints of dawn tantalized on the warming horizon just barely visible through the corridors of elegant towers. The great doors of Tuck opened at the silent beckoning of my viser; security waved me through the protective portal as if I belonged here.

  I headed to my locker, gliding through halls and down stairways that had been alien to me just yesterday. I showered in their unlimited water supply and swapped my street clothes for the strange techno-skin, completing my outward transformation into a native of Tuck. I placed a hand over my heart, just to be sure it was the same one as yesterday. My viser told me I had over twenty minutes left before the official start of classes.

  There was no sign of my humiliating defeat in the locker room, no banners marked the occasion of another highborn victory. But the image of Alexander crossing the finish line half a step ahead lingered. I gazed at the heavy metal door that led to the track that I would never run on again. I left the locker room the way I came in, my blood simmering.

  Mona Lisa Reves-Wyatt and Drake Pillis-Smith stood in the hallway, blocking my way to the stairs. Their eyes widened, then narrowed.

  Mona Lisa stood an inch taller than me, with wider shoulders and a sloping face. Her hair flowed Irish red, ending at her neck. Drake was taller still, with hair of gold and black. His nostrils flared, his brows as sharp as a cliff. Something reptilian and dangerous lurked in that face. They slithered towards me, unhurried; their grins held no warmth.

  “You ran off without congratulating me,” Drake said, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “Bad sportsmanship.”

  “Forget it, Drake. She doesn’t get advanced human concepts,” Mona Lisa added.

  “And what would the two of you know about being human?”

  Mona Lisa stepped into my personal space. “Oh, little girl, you are going down fast. With an uppity mouth like that, you’re going to end up jumping onto the sidewalk like Marie-Ann. Such a mess. And our Mr. Havelock will have to find yet another token who doesn’t belong here.”

  My repulse spray was tucked into the pocket of my uniform. I wanted to use it. My finger ached to use it. I imagined the justice in their screams. But I also remembered Alissa’s warning about the honor code. These two wanted me gone; I wasn’t going to do anything. Not until Mateo had gotten what he needed. I tried to duck around Mona Lisa, but Drake’s arm flashed across my path, his hand grabbing my shoulder. I cocked a fist, checking the blow at the last instant.

  “Whoa there, girl,” Mona Lisa taunted. “Drake’s big brother is on the honor council, so I wouldn’t go trying to mark him up.”

  “What’s your honor code say about being a couple of jack-A’s?”

  “We’re just trying to be help you find your way around here,” Drake told me.

  “Yeah, you were lost. I heard Drake offer to show you to class, when you started in on him. Bitter about losing, making all sorts of accusations. Unbecoming for a Tuck student,” Mona Lisa added, a satisfied smirk on her face.

  Drake shot his elbow at my face; it was a feint that came up short. He’d hoped I’d react, maybe throw a punch that would get me expelled.

  “Come on, nope. Afraid you’ll be too slow again?” He took a step forward, putting his face close enough that I felt the heat of his breath.

  A new voice joined the conversation, low-pitched but powerful. “Not unless Coach Nessmier is around to blow sand in her face again.”

  Kristolan strode into the hallway from the main stairway, her eyes appraising each of us. Her frown reminded me of a mother bird returning to find her nest is in disarray.

  “The little half-breed thinks she entitled because she’s Havelock’s pet,” Drake protested. “Just giving her an education.”

  I used the distraction to step through the wall of idiocy blocking my path. Drake went to grab my shoulder, his other hand balled tight.

  “Hold there,” Kris commanded in a general’s voice. Her eyes were like the fire spoken of in Revelation. The bigger man froze. “We are all Tuck. All owners of its history and its future. There is a place here for all people of merit.” She glided over to us, stopping beside Drake. Kris rested a hand on his hulking shoulder. The blaze I had witnessed in him was gone. “He gets carried away sometimes. But don’t let that fool you. He is among the best of us.” Reptilian fury softened before my eyes. Kris’s voice was music for the savage beast.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “You ran as a champion yesterday,” she assured me. “I think you would have beaten my brother. Even Coach Nessmier may come around to seeing that. And you’ll see that this place is special. You’ll find your spot here, I know. And we’ll all be better for it. Drake and Mona Lisa included.”

  “Uh…sure,” I mumbled, staring at Drake’s frown.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

  I fell in beside a scion of one of the richest families in the world, allowing her to guide me to Mr. Lynder’s Literature class. The first bell approached, and students infested the hallways. Every one of them stared at us. Kris somehow managed to smile, wink or acknowledge each of them while speaking with me as if we were long-lost friends reunited.

  “I hope you won’t judge this place, or the people here, by your experience with Drake Pillis-Smith,” Kris half-whispered to me. “He’s still finding his path.”

  I grunted my skepticism.

  “You know that we call the network that runs this place Castle, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, there is a reason for that, apart from the obvious. We have a fortress here. A place where the rules outside don’t have to matter. We come here to learn. To do better. To be better. We emerge from Tuck stronger, united. It is my hope that everyone can find their place.”

  “‘To Go Forth Bravely.’” My tone mocked, and I sensed Kris’s disapproval.

  She shifted her attention to a fawning passerby, then back to me. “Tell me, why did you start running track?”

  “I’ve always wanted to run fast,” I told her. “Since I was five.” When my mom vanished, never to return.

  “Early to the game then. It did something for you, running. And it still does.”

  Those luminous eyes saw through me. My spine prickled. “How would you know?”

  “Contrary to what you may have heard, highborn does not mean no feelings, Daniela. Wealth does not mean that I don’t know about struggle. The people at this school may not know you, but you don’t know us eit
her. Don’t imagine that you are the only person in this world who has had trouble finding peace.”

  She didn’t say anything more until we reached the threshold of my classroom. Kris’s eyes scanned the room. She nodded in Alexander’s direction, but I saw no warmth in their exchange. Indeed, Alexander looked wary.

  “It was so nice to meet you, Daniela. Please don’t give up on this place so quickly. Come to me if you need anything.”

  She said it with casual sincerity, like a queen reassuring a subject. She smiled a beautiful smile as she waved goodbye, yet I shivered. Then she was gone.

  Alissa was staring at me, head tilted with a question. I shrugged. My viser shook, telling me it was time to find my seat. I slid in beside he who had vanquished me. Alexander kept his eyes fixed forward, his body so still he could have been the statue he resembled.

  Mr. Lynder took the stage. His aged eyes lingered on me for just a moment. He tapped a hand against his aged notepad.

  “The first of your three-essay examinations will be forthcoming the Friday after next,” he announced. “Topic…a surprise, of course. Don’t bother trying to memorize reams of analysis on the net. I assure you, the questions will force you to think for yourselves. Just make sure you’ve read the books, and come ready to have original thoughts. I hope we can all manage that.”

  Nervous laughter followed, but Mr. Lynder didn’t smile.

  “Let’s get on with class,” he proclaimed.

  He called on me first, asking me if I knew a place like Golding’s island in Lord of the Flies. I could feel the highborn smirks. I knew what they thought of my home.

  “Tuck,” I told them, defiant. The advantage of not being able to sleep was plenty of time to read and think. I rather liked Lord of the Flies. I could relate to it.

  Murmurs of surprise, laughter, outrage.

  “Do explain yourself, Ms. Machado.”

  “Everyone wears their manners in this place, draped in uniforms, your honor code, your head bows. You even have a special name for the computers here—Castle. That’s like the island.” My voice shook at first, but soon steadied. “Except that when the collective shame of society isn’t watching, you compete, you strive to be on top, you follow the leader that promises the kill, like vultures trailing a lion. You seek to push others down so you may rise. In short, things are no different in this place than they are anywhere else. It’s no different from the island, it’s just not as isolated.”

  I heard snaps echo from other students. Not everyone, but enough to be heard by everyone. A few huffed in outrage.

  “It seems you have some fans, Ms. Machado. As well as some detractors.” Lynder wore a thoughtful look. “I remember my days here, as long ago as that was. Your analogy isn’t perfect, but it had some truth then. It might still today. Better answer than yesterday, in any case. At least you read the book.”

  Lynder moved on. Paulis Horce-Jilly was the next victim. I permitted myself the luxury of sitting back in my seat, tuning out the discussion. Alexander maintained his razor focus on Mr. Lynder. I stole a look at him out of the corner of my eye. He had the same aristocratic beauty as his sister, though without Kris’s softening curves and inner light. She was a deity and he a mere statue of one. He wasn’t even that big, except for his hands. Looking at him, I wouldn’t have guessed he possessed such speed or endurance. He might have beaten me even without the sand and wind.

  A message from my lab advisor came through just as class ended. My requested equipment had been procured, and I had a new room to report to for my third-period lab. When I looked up, Alexander stood beside me, posing above my seat like Colossus.

  “I didn’t know Coach would do that in the race. I did not need him to. He was not honorable.”

  Such an odd choice of words. He spoke with strange formality. “Excuses don’t matter where I come from. For anyone.”

  Alexander looked taken aback. An odd pose for a statue. “Listen, I’m telling you that you’re fast…girl,” he stumbled a bit at the end.

  I stood up. He was taller than me, but not by much. Our eyes were almost level. “I know I’m fast.”

  Alexander nodded with gravitas. “I’m going speak to the coach about what happened. We can use you on the team.”

  My heart kicked into a high gear, but I kept my face blank. “I don’t need favors. I don’t want favors.”

  “I will speak to him because you run well,” he told me, his face resembling hard stone. “I offer no favors.” He turned and left.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  The next three hours passed in a blur. I sat in classes and pretended to listen, but my mind was thinking about the track team. I kept trying to pull myself away from that hope. I should’ve been worried about Mateo, about getting him into the life center. But the track was like a siren’s song. Mom’s words from when I was five, about the strength inside me, still echoed. I wanted the richies to admit I was a good as them. Maybe better.

  Fifth period was lunch for the upper school. I didn’t even have both feet inside the cafeteria before Alissa was on me.

  “I already got your lunch,” she told me. “It’s at our table. You–come–now.”

  She ushered me through the massive dining hall; we walked alongside long antique tables of darkened wood, under the illustrious light of crystal chandeliers that hovered beneath the arched ceilings, watching those below like ancient vultures. External light entered the chamber from soaring glass windows stained with scenes from forgotten Scriptures. The hall was big enough to accommodate the entire school; the upper school students filled only a third. But they all snatched at least a quick glance in my direction as I crossed the room. Their judgment felt like ants crawling on my skin. My jaw clenched.

  Alissa led me to the end of one of the long dining tables, urging me into a seat between two students I didn’t know: a petite Korean girl with a wide, cold face and a snow-haired boy with alabaster skin and eyes nearly as white as his cheeks, except for a faint blue tint circling the edges. Alissa zipped around to take an empty seat opposite me. No one else sat at our table. A steaming plate of pasta covered with chunky tomato sauce and fist-sized meatballs dazzled in front of me.

  “Okay, Daniela, to your left is Lara Rae, the first girl who dared to speak to me when I started here, and her companion is the illustrious Nythan Royce.”

  “She means notorious, not illustrious,” Nythan informed me.

  “He’s a black sheep here. Ironic considering how white he is everywhere else,” Alissa said. Lara rolled her eyes.

  “Just explain already,” Lara commanded, her bored voice a bit more than a whisper.

  Alissa cleared her throat. “May I present the only person at Tuck who has managed to piss off the highborn, the nopes and the administration in a single swoop.”

  I took a hard look at the pale boy—and he did look like a boy compared to the highborn of his age; my Bronx eyes saw an easy mark in those soft features and quick eyes. Drake’s neck wasn’t much smaller than Nythan’s torso.

  “A nope?” I asked. “I keep hearing that.”

  “Normally Produced Embryo,” Alissa informed me. “Those of us who haven’t been genetically altered in the womb. Otherwise known as normal people.”

  “The term ‘nope’ is highborn crap,” Nythan said. “I prefer pure.”

  “Pure?”

  “It’s a joke,” Nythan added. “But no else gets it. Story of my life. The name comes from a twentieth-century role-playing game called Gamma World. The pure-strain humans were the only characters who hadn’t mutated into monsters after the nuclear war. I’m trying to convince these miscreants that it’s better than letting those bastards call us nopes. But it’s an uphill battle with this generation of net-raised zombie kids. They fail to appreciate the elegant strategy of ancient gaming.”

  “Spare us the conceited history trivia,” Lara urged.

  “What’d you do to everyone?” I asked Nythan.

  “I won the Manhattan Math
League Championship last year,” he proclaimed with mocking pride.

  “And the highborn hate you for that?”

  “The Tuck team won, not Nythan-the-modest,” Alissa corrected. “But Nythan scored the most points on the team. And yeah, that ruffled some genetically enhanced feathers. Nythan’s the only nope—sorry—pure on the team.”

  “Good for you,” I told him.

  “Yeah, good for him. Our boy Nythan leads Tuck’s glorious mathletes to victory last year and leaves his highborn teammates—a bunch of whom are upperclassmen by the way—steaming with jealousy,” Alissa said. “Then he turns around this year and proclaims he won’t be participating, much to the consternation of the faculty, and probably the rest of the student body. The highborn on the team are furious they won’t have a chance to top him, but at the same time they are terrified of looking foolish if they fail to win without him.”

  Nythan crossed his arms, a satisfied look on his face.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Nythan,” I said.

  That got me a pasty smile.

  “On to new business,” Lara announced. “What did the Foster-Rose-Harts want with you? On only your second day, and you a mere nope.”

  I frowned, studying the eager faces of the near strangers around me. I was certain none of them were highborn—too short, too thin, too pale, too foreign, too imperfect. But that didn’t make them my friends. They were richies. They weren’t blood.

  Alissa saw my expression. “These are the good ones, Daniela. Lara’s not much of a smiler, but she’s had my back since fifth grade. My hearing implants might just as well have been a Resister-H virus to everyone else here. And we’re the only two girls at Tuck that would even talk to Nythan, much less share lunch with him.” Nythan scoffed at that. Alissa ignored him, her eyes fixed on me. “All of us have had our moments with the highborn. We stick together.”