There were mutterings of agreement from the small group who’d assembled in the shadowy recesses of one of the ancient towers.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way, brother Weymouth, but surely you can see that what the Underground are doing, we’re doing for the betterment of us all? We don’t want a “war”, as you so indelicately put it. We want peace as much as anyone. But we want a just peace. An equitable one. We don’t want our children dying down here in the shadows because the water recyc in their domes doesn’t function properly and they’re forced to drink their own filth. We don’t want them sick because they’re not entitled to more than two hours power per day and their homes are constantly cold. All we want is a voice, and for people to listen to that voice. Sadly, though, the Prelature doesn’t think any of us deserve that.’
‘You’re very good with words, I’ll give you that. But what good will your words be to us when security brings its pacifiers down here and starts making free with them?’
‘It won’t happen, brother. I give you my word.’
‘Hah!’ The old man laughed, the noise a hollow hiss. ‘And what’s that worth?’
Beside him, Gregor felt Jem tense, and he placed a restraining hand on her arm before fixing the man with a cold stare.
‘You should know me well enough by now, Brother, to know that it’s worth a great deal. Here or anywhere else.’
Gregor’s words echoed upwards, between the ancient buildings and into the gloomy twilight that filled the space between the underworld and the skycity. Finally, Weymouth nodded, a short, ungracious little bob of his head.
‘Aye, I’ll give you that. You do keep your word.’
‘Good.’
‘I’d like to know what’s different about this disruption,’ said one of the women. ‘She said they’re all going to die. What’d that mean?’
‘As I said, my daughter is inclined to exaggerate. True, we have decided that our current campaign of interference hasn’t been having the desired effect, so we’ve decided to’ – he paused, considering how best to express it – ‘escalate things and adopt an approach which should have a greater direct impact on the citizens of the upper levels.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise? Seems to me you’ll be taking our problems with the Prelature out on those who haven’t done anything to deserve it.’
‘A sad necessity, I’m afraid, my friends. We want our voices heard. We want the Underground noticed. Unfortunately, in a city where the dissemination of information is so thoroughly managed and controlled by those with power, being heard isn’t easy. A grand gesture is required.’
‘And what exactly is this “grand gesture” you’ve got in mind, then?’
Gregor grew serious. ‘That, my friends, must remain a secret, at least for the moment. Trust me, though, it will serve a greater purpose.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘It will draw attention to our voices, of course. I promise you, we will be heard, whether the upper levels want to listen or not. We’ll give them no choice.’
There was some muttering and several hushed conversations. Then Weymouth stepped forward again.
‘We need to talk about this. Alone.’
‘Of course. My daughter and I will wait over there. Send someone when you’ve reached a decision.’
Gregor and Jem withdrew to a pile of rubble in the shadows. Gregor perched on a large, smooth slab of concrete – down here in the old city everything was concrete. Jem, though, paced forwards and backwards, her agitation clear, even though her face remained hidden behind its mask.
‘Father, what are you doing?’ Her voice was pitched for him alone.
‘Patience, daughter. We’re giving them time to feel as though they have some say in what happens next.’
‘I still don’t understand why we’re even here. Everything’s in place, our people know the plan. The Underground doesn’t need shiftie shi like this lot to—’
‘Don’t you understand it yet, Jem? These people are the Underground. The Underground is these shiftie shi. Between them, those people over there have the ear of every major clan and family in the lower levels. They control the people who keep the recyc working, who maintain the power grid, who keep the mags running. They clean the domes of the rich, hear their conversations, see their secrets. That little group of outcasts are the real people who keep this stinking hovel of a city perched happily up in the sky, and without their approval, without access to their knowledge and their influence, anything we do is doomed to failure. That’s why we’re here.’
‘But what if they don’t agree? What if all our planning’s been for nothing?’
‘They’ll agree.’
‘How do you know?’ How can you be certain?’
‘You’re forgetting one important thing, daughter. They might be the ones with the influence, but that doesn’t mean they’re not scared of us. Fear is a useful tool, too.’
‘But if they’re the ones with the power—’
‘Did I say they had power? No. I said they had influence. There’s a big difference and they know it, which is why they’ll agree to our proposals. The important thing, though, is that they think we’re giving them a choice.’
Gregor stopped speaking. Brother Weymouth was approaching them.
‘All right,’ he said gruffly. ‘So far, you lot haven’t put a foot wrong, so we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But so help me, if the sky falls on us, we’ll make damn certain that you and your Underground are hunted down and staked in the sunlight. You understand?’
‘Perfectly.’ Gregor stood up, rising to his full height and towering over the shiftie clan leader. ‘And we thank you for your cooperation. We’re building a brighter future for everyone here, brother.’
‘Spare me your pretty words,’ the man growled. ‘Jus’ make sure it doesn’t all go to shi. These things have a way of coming back to bite you on the arse.’ The man turned and left, vanishing into the shadows along with everyone else.
‘Charming,’ Gregor murmured.
‘How did you know they’d agree?’
‘Because people are afraid of what they can’t see. It’s the same reason children are scared of the dark. Despite his threats and bluster, Weymouth knows that he could no sooner hunt down the Underground than he could throw the Prelate off the top of her dome. And that gives us a distinct advantage.’
‘So we’re going ahead?’
‘Absolutely. Now it’s just a question of timing.’
‘We’re all going to die.’ This was just the sort of thing Janil would say purely for effect.
‘Yeah, of course we are.’ Lari didn’t try to hide his scepticism. He smirked to let his brother know he wasn’t being fooled.
‘Listen to your brother, Larinan. This is no laughing matter.’ ‘We’re all going to die,’ Janil repeated, ‘sometime in the next fifty years, perhaps less, because the skycities themselves are dying.’
He was serious. Lari’s grin faded.
‘What?’
‘They’re breaking down. The food, water, filtration and recyc systems. The power grids, the magnetic resonators, the dome governors, even the chemicals that cause the autotint to function. It’s all slowly but inevitably grinding to a halt, and with it, so are we.’
‘And that’s entropy?’
‘No.’ Janil chuckled. ‘It’s nothing to do with entropy. Not strictly speaking, anyway, but people have been misunderstanding that term for so long now that it seemed kind of funny to use it for this. Entropy is a measure of the dispersal of energy from areas of high concentration to low. But most people don’t think of it that way. In the early 20th century some mathematicians messed around with the term and effectively turned it into a philosophical nightmare for the rest of history.’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘It’s simple, little brother. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. And that includes the bonds that hold things together. We can fight against it, obstruct it as much as possible, but eventually
energy wants release. You can’t maintain a closed system forever, because the reality is that there’s no such thing.’
To Lari, Janil still wasn’t making any sense.
‘Let me try and explain,’ their father said softly. ‘We’ve been aware for some time now that certain systems which sustain the skycities are becoming more and more susceptible to failure, but these systems have been diverse and the causes of their breakdowns apparently unrelated. It’s only comparatively recently we’ve begun to suspect that in fact it’s all linked; each failure is a symptom of a much larger phenomenon which has already accelerated well beyond our ability to control it.’
‘Why can’t we control it?’
‘Because the universe doesn’t work that way, Larinan.’
‘Here.’ Janil fished into the emergency kit beside the pilot’s chair, pulled out a ration of water and unsealed the cap. ‘Lesson one in entropy for dummies. Take this, keep your arm straight and hold it over the panel here.’
Lari did as he was told. Gripping the vial, he held it above the central control display. ‘What now?’
‘Just hold it.’
After a minute, Lari’s arm began to ache. ‘What’s the point of this?’
‘Arm hurting?’
‘You know it is.’
‘Tell me why.’
‘The vial is getting heavy.’
‘No. The water weighs exactly the same as it did two minutes ago when I handed it to you.’
‘Okay, then, my arm’s getting tired.’
‘Exactly. That vial, held up in the air above the instrument panel, is loaded with potential energy – kinetic energy, in this case – and the universe wants to take that potential energy and realise it, disperse it. But of course at the moment it can’t. Something’s in the way.’
‘Me.’
‘Precisely. You’re obstructing that energy from release. You’re keeping it from falling. But you can’t do it forever, can you?’
‘I don’t see what this has to do with Port City.’
‘Everything and nothing, Larinan,’ said his father.
Lari’s arm was beginning to tremble.
‘Don’t drop it!’ Janil’s voice became sharp. ‘Put it down if you have to, but don’t drop it.’
With relief, Lari lowered the vial and Janil tossed him the cap.
‘Do you know what would have happened if you’d dropped that open bottle of water onto the control panel, copygen?’
‘No.’
‘Me neither. But I don’t imagine it would be much fun if the processor system was shorted out while we’re cruising along on autopilot, fifteen hundred metres above the ground and at two times the speed of sound.’
‘What’s the point of all this?’
‘It’s simple, copygen. Imagine that bottle is a skycity, the instrument panel the ground, and your arm the combined efforts of humankind to keep that city suspended in midair, with civilised society safely contained inside. It can’t be done. Not forever, and when that potential energy is realised, the consequences are going to be nasty. Terminally nasty.’
Lari looked at his brother. The gleam in Janil’s eyes was disconcerting.
He likes this sort of stuff, Lari thought to himself. He actually enjoys it.
‘Okay, but what if I built a plascrete or steel brace? Something stronger than my arm to support the bottle?’
‘Makes no difference. You might keep it up there longer, perhaps a lot longer, but eventually something’s gotta give. You can’t obstruct the universe forever.’
‘And that’s entropy.’
‘That’s what most people think is entropy. They’re wrong, of course. Entropy is the measure of that energy dispersal, not the cause of it. It’s symptoms and causes, Lari, and right now our society is showing a hell of a lot of symptoms and it’s those that the people are looking at, not the causes.’
‘Why not?’
Janil shot him a nasty grin. ‘Entropy.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t make this more confusing than it has to be, Janil.’ Their father leaned forward again. ‘The point is, Larinan, that a lot of people, powerful people, don’t want to admit that there’s a larger problem here. It’s a political and social nightmare.’
‘Why?’
‘Do you know what the Darklanders call us?’
‘No.’
‘Nightpeople. According to the history books, we were originally referred to as “t’outsiders”, then “skyfolk”, but sometime in the last seven hundred years it changed to “nightpeople”, and that’s what we’ve been ever since. Why do you think that is?’
‘We only ever come at night.’
‘See, he is a genius after all,’ Janil interjected.
‘And the reason for that?’ his father prompted.
‘Exposure. We can’t endure direct solar radiation without…’
Lari stopped as the enormity of it started sinking in.
‘You understand now, don’t you? A thousand years ago, humankind – or part of it, anyway – sealed itself into domes and cut itself off from a world that was rapidly becoming too inhospitable for us to survive in. We moved up into the sky and disconnected ourselves from the rising sea levels and increasingly toxic soil. We isolated ourselves from what we thought was the threat of genetic pollution, filtered out the radiation in the light, adjusted the mix of gases in the air, and continued living just like we always had.’
‘But the planet didn’t,’ Janil said. ‘It kept evolving without us. The sun got harsher, the ground warmer, summers longer and winters shorter. And now the artificial world we built for ourselves is facing a catastrophic breakdown and we’re no longer equipped to survive anywhere else.’ He laughed, a bitter, ironic chuckle. ‘Funny, isn’t it? A thousand years ago we thought we were sealing the subjects up in the Darklands to protect our gene pool, then we went and did exactly the same thing to ourselves.’
Lari shook his head, disbelieving. ‘But it can’t be as bad as all that. People would know. People would do something.’
‘What people? The Prelate? Don’t make me laugh, copygen. All the politicians care about is stability. They haven’t worked out yet that there’s no such thing.’
‘Janil is right, Larinan. This isn’t new, this knowledge. Just highly restricted.’
‘But that doesn’t make sense. If everyone knew about it, then people could—’
‘What?’ Janil twisted in the pilot’s seat. ‘Riot? Kill each other? Destroy DGAP? Take over the city? It wouldn’t make any difference if they did, we’d still be dead. Just faster, that’s all. People are stupid.’
‘So you’re telling me there’s no hope. Is that it? You’re both just giving up?’
‘Until a couple of days ago, that would have been true.’ His father touched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘But things have changed dramatically in the course of the last twelve shifts.’
‘So there is a way out?’
‘Perhaps. But it’s a big perhaps.’
‘How?’
‘Actually, Larinan’ – Dernan Mann’s grip on his son’s shoulder grew stronger – ‘that’s where you come into it.’
Now that she knows it’s there, she can’t get away from it.
It tickles at the edges of her mind, pressing, cold and insistent, in on her.
Skyfire.
The pulsing energy becomes her constant companion.
It’s there when she’s walking across the white plain.
It’s there when she wakes in the round room.
It’s there when she’s falling, especially when she’s falling.
It’s pure, passionless, so distant as to be little more than a spot in her thoughts.
But it’s always there.
Sometimes she tries to pull it into herself, to draw it up and reach as she would with earthwarmth.
But whenever she does, the pain follows, the burning cold, the searing heat.
She feels as though it’s watching her.
And waiting …
‘Seen the webs this morning?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Kes hissed, with a glance back into the apartment to make certain nobody else had woken up. Of all the people who might have come banging on her door at this time of the morning, the last one she expected to see was the Underground guy from the ref.
‘This is important.’ He pulled her into the dimly lit corridor.
‘You couldn’t just com?’
‘Don’t be silly. Have you seen the webs today?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Your boyfriend’s making an appearance.’
‘Lari isn’t my boyfriend.’
‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His face is all over the webs and Ratz wants to know why.’
‘How am I supposed to know? I just woke up.’
‘Find out. Did you fix things with him yet?’
‘No. I was going to, but—’
‘Do it. Now.’
A little way down the corridor, a door opened and a middle-aged woman walked towards them. The Underground guy watched her with a cold, gimlet stare until she vanished through the doors of the creaky internal lift.
‘Make up with your boyfriend, find out why he said the things he did, if there’s any truth to them, then get your pretty little backside down to the ref and fill me in.’
‘What’s the rush? Lari gets strange sometimes. This could take a couple of days.’
‘We don’t have a couple of days. Do it now.’ The man propelled her towards her apartment door. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
When she re-entered the apartment, her father was standing in the middle of the tiny living area, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
‘Who was that?’
‘Old Mrs Camplan. She accidently logged off-system again.’
‘Poor thing. You get her back on?’
‘You know me, Dad.’
‘That’s my girl.’ He grinned sleepily. ‘Hungry?’
‘No, thanks. Still too early for me. I’m going to check the webs.’
‘Okay. Caf?’
‘Thanks.’
While her dad busied himself getting the drink together, Kes logged onto the shared access terminal that served their whole family.
Skyfall Page 12
