Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel

by Brenda Poppy

  “Done,” Scar said, putting down her needle and cutting a final thread. She held up her handiwork proudly. Burn crouched forward in her chair to get a better look.

  “It’s a purse,” Burn said, stating the obvious. Scar had used the extra fabric from Symphandra to make a small reticule that matched her gown. The pouch was about the size of a small picture frame, and it cinched at the top with a blue cord that doubled as a handle.

  Scar smiled a wicked little grin. She held up a finger, indicating that Burn should wait, and she scampered around the room placing objects in the bag. After a minute, she returned to her seat and handed the bag to Burn.

  It was heavier than it looked. Burn put the bag over her wrist, testing its weight on her arm, and deemed it comfortable enough to carry for an evening. She looked closer at the bag’s exterior, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The stitching was small and neat, and the handbag itself looked just like any other.

  She turned her attention to the bag’s interior, dumping its contents out onto her lap. Once again, very ordinary. A tube of lipstick, a pair of eyeglasses, a tin of mint candies, a cash card. Burn also pulled out a pair of earrings adorned with sparkling black stones and a necklace comprised of a simple silver chain with another solitary black stone affixed at its center.

  Burn turned the items around in her hands, but all of them appeared completely normal, just the average contents of a woman’s purse. But that wasn’t Scar’s style. No, there was something else to these items that she wasn’t seeing. She looked to Scar, knowing she must be bursting to explain her ingenious arsenal.

  Just as she had expected, Scar was beaming. “OK, I give up,” Burn said, yielding to her sister. “What are they?”

  Scar jumped up to demonstrate her genius, picking up the lipstick first. “On one side, it’s a normal women’s lipstick.” She opened the cap to show Burn the bright red wax. “But on the other…” Scar twisted the bottom of the container to reveal a secret compartment from which she withdrew Burn’s small fingerprint bypass tube. “This will get you through most normal doors. However, I assume there will be added security, which is why I also gave you these.” Scar picked up the glasses.

  Burn didn’t need corrective lenses, so the glasses obviously had a different purpose. “Let me guess,” said Burn, “they’ll bypass any retinal scan?”

  Scar looked a little crestfallen that Burn had beaten her to the explanation, but she kept going, nonetheless. “Yes, but there’s more. They’re also equipped with telescopic lenses, night vision, and a beta version of a lip-reading program. And just like your goggles, they’ll only work for you.”

  Burn was impressed. Those would definitely come in handy, she thought. Scar continued, picking up the cash card.

  “If you encounter a computerized tab or system, put this on top of it and signal me. It will give me remote access to the system, and I can find a back way into the device, overriding its security measures.”

  “Signal you?” Burn asked. She wouldn’t have her goggles on, since the party was taking place indoors, and Scar hadn’t mentioned a messaging feature on the glasses.

  Scar’s self-satisfaction leveled up a notch and she grinned wickedly. “The necklace is a comms unit. Hold down the center stone and I’ll be able to hear anything you say. And the earrings will relay my response. They’re tuned to an ultra-low volume so only you will be able to hear me. Even if someone else put them on, unless they had your gift they wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.”

  “Genius,” Burn murmured, admiring Scar’s handiwork. Even on closer inspection, Burn could see nothing of the jewelry’s true nature.

  A little of her tension abated. With Scar there, on the other side of her comms, she wouldn’t be alone in this. They would be going in together, with her as the eyes and ears and Scar as the mad genius in charge of everything else. Together, they could handle this.

  Burn ran her eyes over the equipment again, this time stopping on the tin of mints. “Wait, you didn’t tell me about these.” She picked up the tin and moved to shake it, but Scar’s hand darted out and grasped her arm. The look in her eyes was deadly.

  “Don’t do that. At least not unless you want your arm blown off.” Scar took the tin of mints from her hand and carefully placed it back in the handbag. “They’re explosives,” she explained, a little belatedly. “They’re sort of a last resort. If you’re backed into a corner and have no way to get out, throw one of these. The ensuing chaos should give you enough time to escape.”

  Burn’s eyes widened in understanding. “Good to know,” was all she could think to say. She hoped she wouldn’t run into a situation where those were necessary. Exploding a bomb – no matter how small – inside a Peace Force party would certainly raise some questions.

  Burn’s gaze swept over the objects in front of her, taking in the new equipment. She could now get through any door, crack any computer, and even blow up small targets, all while in constant contact with Scar. It was a Peace Officer’s wet dream. Plus, it was all packaged in an utterly unassuming handbag.

  Curious, Burn picked up the bag itself, turning it over in her hands before reaching inside to feel around. No secret pockets that she could find. No obvious weapons components or hidden function. It seemed to be an ordinary bag. Scar looked on as Burn carried out her inspection. Giving up, Burn held it out to Scar for an explanation.

  “Technically, it’s an ordinary handbag,” Scar started. Burn doubted that. Nothing Scar created was ordinary. There was definitely something else to it. She raised an eyebrow to coax more from her sister.

  “OK, OK,” Scar gave in. “It’s a normal handbag in that it doesn’t have any weapons built into it. But it does have a secret. I put in an extra layer to shield its contents from any scans. Meaning it can pass through security checkpoints without issues.”

  “Damn,” Burn said, shaking her head. “You thought of everything. Is there anything else you were planning to add?” she asked sarcastically. “Perhaps a belt that’s secretly an armored vehicle or a ring that allows me to fly?” She chuckled as she glanced up at Scar, who seemed to be considering those as feasible options for future missions.

  “I’m kidding, Scar. These are great,” she said, trying to tear her sister away from her far-fetched technical schemes. “I swear you’re going to singlehandedly save this godforsaken city. You know you’re smarter than most of the Peace Force put together, right?”

  If Scar could blush, she would have. Instead, she gave a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks. But you know that’s not true. You’re the one risking her neck to make this world a better place. I would rather be like you.”

  Burn opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, at a loss for words. Scar had never voiced such a thought before, and she didn’t know how to respond. She had the urge to get up and embrace Scar, but she knew that her sister wasn’t big on physical contact.

  Instead, she smiled and said, “Well, together we might just have a fighting chance.”

  Chapter 12

  The light was rapidly fading as Scar helped Burn into her dress. Tying up the laces on the sides was a two-person job, and she was glad she had her sister there to help. Together, the pair also figured out how to twist Burn’s hair in a passable imitation of the style Symphandra had done, albeit with a few more unintentional tendrils framing her face.

  Symphandra had also loaned her some makeup for the evening, although Burn was less than familiar with how to apply it. Scar helped with that, too, smudging kohl around her eyes and along her lashes, and dabbing rouge along her cheekbones and lips. Burn wondered again how her sister had learned all these life skills which she had apparently missed. Maybe a few extra years with their mother had instilled in her more feminine expertise than Burn had previously noticed.

  Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Burn hardly recognized the person staring back at her. Her face looked foreign to her, with its too-big eyes and brightly tinted lips. She cocked her head and watched
as the figure in the mirror did the same.

  Her sister had done a good job. She looked like a woman, elegant and coy. Definitely not like a spy. Although, come to think of it, she didn’t really know what a spy looked like. She supposed that was the point.

  Her dress was tight along the chest and ribs, accentuating her figure without impeding her breathing – or her ability to flee, if necessary. The knee-height slit in the gown ensured she could always make a quick getaway if the situation turned ugly. Burn had, of course, tested it out, just to make sure.

  She admired the way the dress moved and how it looked in the dim light – like a clear night’s sky just coming to life. Equipped with her handbag arsenal, she felt ready to take on the world – or at least a party full of crooked cops.

  “Burn!” she heard Scar shout from the living room, her voice taunting. “I think your date is here.”

  Suddenly, Burn’s nerves returned, and she felt just as unprepared as she had when Kaz had first asked her. Breathe, she told herself, trying to calm her racing heart. It’s only stage fright. The costumes are on, the stage is set, and the first act is about to begin. All it needs is its leading lady. With that thought, she left the relative safety of the bathroom and strode out into the living room and up to the front door.

  Stopping with her hand on the doorknob, she turned to Scar. “Thank you,” she said simply. Her sister smiled and nodded. “Don’t wait up,” she added as she gathered her shawl, mask, and goggles and stepped out into the night.

  In the dim evening light, Kaz looked almost like a specter. Burn could see his figure approaching, but the details were hazy and muddled. After a few seconds, a man appeared from the mist, resolving into the tall, broad-chested Kaz.

  “Hi,” came his deep voice. The familiar sound made Burn’s stomach do a little flip.

  “Hi,” she parroted, her voice sounding small in the dark night. The two stared at one another, each taking the other in.

  The shadows and haze of the city obscured some of the detail, but Burn could see that Kaz wore an old-fashioned black suit, with his rank insignia and corresponding stripes pinned to his left breast above his heart. Her eyes roamed upward, and she noticed that his face was clean-shaven and his hair slicked back in a style that accentuated the hard lines of his face and jaw.

  She knew it was silly, but she missed the shaggy mane and the way it had fallen over his eyes. This Kaz looked more serious, more official. More than ever, he looked like one of “them.” Until he smiled. Then his whole face changed, softening into a look of utter delight.

  “You look wonderful,” he said, breaking the silence. Burn, who, unlike Scar, was capable of blushing, proceeded to do so. She was glad the darkness obscured her features.

  “You do, too,” Burn replied, meaning it. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she added after a second. She dug around in her purse and returned with the single red flower. Taking a step closer, she reached up and pinned it to his lapel.

  She took a step back, admiring her work. “There,” she said proudly, “now you’re ready.”

  Kaz stood taller, as if preening. “Why thank you, my dear.” The mock gentlemanly voice was back, playful and inviting.

  “Of course, darling,” Burn responded, playing along with her best ladylike lilt.

  With that, Kaz nodded and held out his arm. She took it and the pair walked off into the night.

  Burn didn’t know where they were going, but Kaz walked confidently through the streets, over bridges, and up stairs, leading them gradually upward and away from the familiar.

  Their conversation was light and easy, focusing on no particular topic for long. They discussed the evening, which was mild, the haze, which was strong but gradually lifting as they ascended, and their mutual difficulties in finding something to wear for the occasion.

  “It was my father’s,” Kaz said, pointing to the suit. “I did look for something more modern, but there are surprisingly few secondhand suit shops around.” His voice had adopted a hint of sarcasm as he spoke. “I was hoping it would come across as classic, but I’m afraid I just appear out of touch with fashion.” He shook his head in mild disdain.

  “Unlike you, my dear,” he added gallantly. “You will no doubt be the best-dressed person there. With you on my arm, I will be the envy of the entire party.”

  Burn raised an eyebrow. His sentiment was a tad cliché, she thought, but effective, nonetheless. “Well, you should try taking advantage of the generosity of friends,” she replied, indicating her own attire. “You’re at least guaranteed a more modern ensemble. Although major height differences do pose somewhat of a risk.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind for the next ball,” Kaz said, chuckling.

  While the pair had been talking, they had passed beyond Burn’s zone of familiarity and started to climb into the upper echelons of the city. Burn was beginning to wonder how far they would have to climb when they suddenly stopped in front of an iron door.

  She looked around, confused. While it was a nice area, it wasn’t what she had imagined. There were still some shops here, interspersed with houses that were larger than her own, but not disproportionately so. The strangest thing, though, was the iron door, which didn’t seem to lead to a house at all. In fact, Burn couldn’t tell what it led to.

  Kaz, who seemed to know what he was doing, approached the door and pushed a button she hadn’t previously seen. The button lit up and a gentle whirring noise sprang to life above them. Burn glanced up, into the dark night, but could only make out the floor of the next level above them, nothing else.

  Still, she waited patiently. Or at least she tried to look patient. Inside her chest, her heart was hammering. What if this was a trap? What if the Peace Force had realized what she was up to and this was an elaborate way of ambushing her? Instinctively, her hand reached into her bag and gripped the tin of mints. If she was going down, she was going down fighting.

  But, as it turned out, she wasn’t going down at all. In fact, she was going up. The iron door dinged and opened before them, revealing the interior of an elegant elevator. Kaz led her inside and pressed a button on the wall, and the doors closed behind them.

  Burn had never been inside an elevator. She had only ever seen a few in her life, and never one as intricately fashioned as this one. The walls were covered in a soft, velvety fabric, which Burn couldn’t help but touch. It felt smooth and cool under her fingers and seemed to give off a scent of flowers and honey.

  The metal accents in the space, like the panel that held the collection of buttons, were similarly intricate, with graceful swirls that beamed golden in the elevator’s bright light. Coming from the hazy darkness outside, the light was painful, and Burn blinked as her eyes adjusted to the space, with more details gradually coming into focus.

  The interior itself was small, with room for maybe six or seven at the most, but for the moment Kaz and Burn were its only occupants. As she studied the space, imprinting the details on her memory so she could share the whole experience with Scar later, the doors to the elevator closed and the room started to ascend.

  The movement was slow and even, but the unfamiliar sensation caused Burn’s stomach to turn uncomfortably. She grasped Kaz’s arm tighter as they rose, and he brought his other hand to stroke hers in a comforting gesture.

  A short time later, just as Burn was starting to get acclimated to the new space, the contraption stopped and the doors opened once again, revealing a completely different world than the one they had left.

  Gone were the haze and the darkness of the lower levels. In their place were clean, crisp air and bright lights that lit up the tier as if it were day. If her eyes hadn’t already become accustomed to the light in the elevator, Burn was sure this new brightness would have blinded her. Instead, she stepped out into the new world with her eyes wide open.

  She had never been this high in the city before. She wasn’t even sure citizens like her were allowed to be up here under normal circumstances. Looking at
it all now, Burn felt a pang of anger that they should have so much while others had so little.

  Glancing at Kaz, Burn could see he was similarly stunned. She felt better, somehow, knowing that she was not alone in her awe. Hand in hand, they ambled further into the alien world, where more grand and extravagant details gradually resolved themselves.

  There were no shops here, only houses – if you could call them houses. Maybe mansions was a better term. Mansions made of glass and iron and starlight. Because from here you could actually glimpse the twinkling light of the stars, although their brilliance was dimmed in competition with the glaring streetlights overhead. Her gaze held skyward, Burn thought she could almost make out the edges of the dome itself, although it could just as easily have been her imagination painting boundaries where she knew they ought to exist.

  As a child, Burn had steadfastly believed that the people up here existed amongst the clouds and the stars. She thought that they could simply open their windows and gather up armfuls of fluff and stardust, then use their special powers to turn them into magic, which she had believed fueled the city. But looking at the place now, Burn knew that they had no need for magic.

  Magic is the dream of those who are left wanting, those to whom life has not been kind or generous. But these people, the people who had everything and watched the rest of mankind from a lofty perch above, they didn’t need magic. They already owned the world.

  Maybe that’s why there were no gifted amongst the elite. They didn’t need extra abilities to get ahead. They were born to privilege and comfort. Perhaps that power dichotomy, paired with the massive amounts of pollution pumped down into the lower levels, was what had led to the existence of people like Burn and her sister. Maybe it was nature’s way of rebalancing the equation.

  That was what she was there for, after all. If she got the information she was searching for, she would tip the scales in favor of the Lunaria, taking power from the powerful and redistributing it in hopes of fostering change.