The Smudger

by Angeline Trevena

  “And where would we go? Where would be safe for us?”

  “We’ll be protected in the colonies, don’t worry about that. I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

  “Like Okaporo was safe?”

  “Neither you nor your sister died there. I can protect us, Kioto.”

  “We could rebuild Okaporo,” I said. It was a hope I’d never dared speak out loud before, one I’d been carrying for years without the means to satisfy it.

  “We could,” she agreed. “We will. We’ll return to our ancestors.”

  “The others will return from Kagosaka. I left there three years ago, but I can’t imagine anything’s changed. They won’t need any persuading to return home.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do, as soon as it’s safe. We’ll rebuild Okaporo with true Okaporo blood.”

  “I can have a home again,” I said slowly, feeling the weight of the idea. “And I can see the sea again.”

  “But first, I need the memory you’re carrying. My ripped memory. The one that brought you here.”

  “Of course.”

  I watched as Narata performed the Dedication with precision and reverence. It was a beautiful performance to watch. Sacred. Far from the rushed version of it I usually made do with. The shame rose in me like nausea.

  I sat down, leaning back in the chair, and closed my eyes. I felt Narata’s hand lay on my stomach, the other on my forehead.

  “You need to help me,” Narata whispered. “I can’t take it, I need you to give it to me.”

  I pushed the memory forward. And then further. I didn’t simply offer it up for her to take, I pushed it right out of me and into her mind. There was a slight tug, and then the discomfort the scratch had given me was gone.

  “It’s torn to shreds,” Narata said. She shook her head. “It’ll take a few days to repair itself. You’ve been carrying this? It must have been uncomfortable.”

  “Really uncomfortable. Like sleeping with an acorn under your back.”`

  “Thank you.” She shook her head again, as if trying to shake the memory back into its rightful place. “I haven’t been able to practice trading for years. I can’t wait to get back to it.”

  “Who took it from you?” I asked.

  “Tokai. She did it to protect Omori. She said that if even I didn’t know where I’d sent her, no one could get the information out of me.”

  “So she had all the power when it came to Omori.”

  Narata nodded. “She did. But I don’t know how you ended up with this memory. Who did you take it from?”

  “It was a rip job. They didn’t exactly give me their business card.”

  “Who were you supposed to deliver it to?”

  “I was never given a name. Just an address. In Honporo.” I dug into my pockets and handed her the cyber card.

  She held it up to the light. “Honporo. Why would this message be going to Honporo?”

  “They paid really well for it too. I was meant to get the second half on delivery. I would’ve got my pebble back too.”

  “Your pebble?”

  “They took it as collateral. It was the only thing I had left from Okaporo. My only link to the only home I’ve ever known. The only link to my family. I guess I’ll lose that now.”

  “Soon enough, they’ll realise you’re not going to deliver it too.”

  “They’ll probably come looking for it. A lot rests on this memory. It was made very clear to us how precious it was, and how dangerous it was to be carrying it. We had rogues looking for us.”

  “Us? You and Malia?”

  “Me and Tian. He was carrying the other half. We were meant to be travelling separately, but it didn’t quite pan out like that. That’s why they’d chosen a trader and a merchant to split it between. They thought we would never want to travel together.”

  “Tian’s a merchant?”

  “His mother was a trader. From Miyakata, I guess. His grandparents still lived in the colony.”

  “How come you ended up with the whole memory?”

  “He gave me his half. I only understood what it all meant once I played the whole thing. We had rogues right on top of us. He gave me his half, and then he led the rogues away.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. I had one message from him a while later telling me to play the scratch and follow my heart. I’ve heard nothing from him since.”

  41

  SENETSU

  When I opened the door, Tokai was stood on the other side, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently. She pushed past me and stepped into the house.

  “What happened to our open door policy, Senetsu?”

  “I’m sorry, I guess I forgot.”

  “I’m told Saji didn’t turn up to work this morning. Where is he?”

  “That’s why I locked the door. I didn’t want anyone coming in. He’s sick. Really nasty stomach bug, he can’t keep anything down. I didn’t want anyone else to get it.”

  Her face didn’t look convinced, but she still took a step back towards the open front door.

  “Is he in bed?”

  “Sleeping, finally. He was up most of the night.”

  “And how’s Omori?”

  “She’s fine, for now. But you know how stomach bugs are; once one person gets them, they go through the whole family. It’s probably best that we just quarantine ourselves for a while.”

  Tokai grunted. “Maybe I should check in on him, give him my best wishes.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, like I said, he was up most of the night throwing up. It was really quite violent. The room is a mess, I haven’t had a chance to wash the bedsheets yet. I wouldn’t want you to catch it. It’s knocked him out entirely, and he’s a fit, healthy man. I’d hate to see someone more vulnerable get it.”

  Tokai nodded sharply. “I want to see him back at work as soon as he’s better.”

  “Of course. Saji certainly isn’t one to take time off unnecessarily. It’s hard enough to get him to take a day off when he is actually ill.”

  “And Omori’s lessons will start as planned.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t catch it then.”

  “Perhaps she could stay with one of the other families for a little while. Just to protect her from it, if it’s as nasty as you say.”

  “That would be a great idea, except she might already have it. I don’t think either of us want to see it go around the entire colony.”

  “No.” Tokai stared at me for a moment. “Well then, give him my best. I hope he feels better soon.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  I pressed the door closed behind her, and slowly exhaled. It felt like I’d been holding my breath the whole time.

  I walked down the short corridor to Omori’s room. I stopped on the way to pull mine and Saji’s bedroom door closed, concealing the empty room beyond.

  “Are you alright, sweetheart?” I asked her, stepping into her room.

  “Was Tokai here?” she asked.

  “She was. She came to say hello and see how we were settling in.”

  “I like her.”

  “I know you do. You’ve settled here nicely, haven’t you?”

  “Can I go and play outside?”

  “Not today, honey.”

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Daddy’s at work.”

  “But he left early this morning. And he’s not wearing his work boots. They’re still in the bathroom.”

  “He’s just doing different work today.”

  “When’s he coming home?”

  “It will probably be late. Maybe even after your bedtime.”

  Omori sighed. “Will he come and say goodnight?”

  “I’ll make sure of it.” I ruffled her hair.

  It was almost midnight by the time Saji returned. I was just on my way to bed, my head too heavy to hold upright anymore, when I heard his key in the lock.

  “Don’t turn the light on,” I whispered. “How did you get on. Di
d you speak to Hama?”

  “Yes. But it’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean? She’s still got Omori’s memories, hasn’t she?” I could see the shine of his eyes in the darkness, the outline of his shoulder against the window behind, but his face was nothing more than shadow. He stood still and silent for a moment. “Hasn’t she?” I asked again.

  “I told her that Tokai wanted to train Omori early, that we wanted her to keep hold of the memories for a little bit longer. But things have been bad for her. Her husband passed away, and she’s not doing well. She ran up some big debts, and with the stress of her husband passing, she found that holding the memories was just too much for her. She needed the money, and she needed a clear head. She sold them, Senetsu.”

  “What? You said that we could trust her.”

  “How could I have possibly known this would happen?”

  I saw his silhouette shift. I didn’t need to accuse him, to blame him, I knew him well enough. He’d never forgive himself for this.

  “Who did she sell them to?”

  “A merchant. She gave me his number.”

  “And?”

  “I called, but he’d already sold the memories on. And he didn’t know who to.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Saji didn’t respond.

  “Omori’s memories are just gone? She can never be a trader without them, Saji. Her life is over. And… and she’ll never, ever know her sister.”

  He stepped forward and took hold of my arms. “No. I won’t let that happen. We need to tell Omori the truth. About everything. And we need to tell her every single day about what an amazing sister she has. I won’t let her not know Kioto. We need to tell her. And then we’ll all go and get Kioto. Together.”

  I fell into his arms and sobbed in the darkness.

  42

  KIOTO

  I watched Malia as she writhed on the bed. She’d been screaming for almost an hour. Names and words, but none of it made sense.

  I didn’t try to quiet her; it was pointless anyway. Her shivers were so bad that she barely even saw or heard me anymore. She was locked into a world where all she knew was the memories she carried. She hadn’t eaten, and she’d barely drunk for almost three days.

  I looked up at Narata. “Is there anything we can do?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Not now. She’s too far gone. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “I thought I’d made her better. She seemed so much better. I took some memories off her when we were in the police station, and it really worked to ease her shivers. But now… look at her.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Kioto. Omori’s the only one who can help Malia now. The only way to stop the shivers is to remove all her memories in one go. All of them. You can’t do it a bit at a time. It doesn’t work. It just makes things worse. All you did was to put your own life in danger.”

  “Is she worse now because I took some memories?”

  Narata nodded. “We can’t know for certain, but it’s a strong possibility.” She rubbed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then we need to get Omori. Now.”

  “We have to tread carefully. We need her to agree to do this. If she refuses, there’s really no way that we can make her do it. I just don’t know how we’re going to convince her.”

  “Surely she’ll listen to me.”

  “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

  “What?”

  “The memories that were taken from her were all of her memories of you. She doesn’t even know that you exist.”

  “Why would my parents want her to forget about me?”

  “Maybe it was too painful for her to be apart from you. You must remember; the pair of you were inseparable.”

  “So, I need to convince Omori that I, a perfect stranger, am her sister, and that she needs to come and perform an extraction that would kill any other trader, so that she can train up as a vessel to help rogues to kill others like her? And eventually, they’ll kill her too. I can tread as carefully as anything, but she’d have to be out of her mind to agree to that.”

  “If you can’t convince her, then Malia will die, and Omori will never be a trader. And she won’t know you either.”

  43

  KIOTO

  “I’m not really meant to be seen out and about in the city,” I explained to Dai. “It was kind of a condition of us being released by the police. Y’know, to make ourselves scarce pretty quickly. I’m certainly not meant to be hanging around in these kind of places.”

  Dai sat on the bench and pulled me down to sit beside him.

  “It wasn’t a condition of your release,” he said.

  “Yeah, it kind of was.”

  “Why do you think they released you all of a sudden?”

  I shrugged. “Because they had nothing solid to hold us on?”

  Dai raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think they need something solid to hold a trader? There are traders who have been in prison for years without being charged for anything at all. The system doesn’t give a shit about people like you. You got released, because I had a word in the right ear.”

  I snorted. “What? And the system gives two hoots about a filthy rogue?”

  “Not all rogues are filthy. And I happen to be a rogue with a lot of friends in high places.”

  “How do you have ‘friends in high places’?”

  “I do a lot of favours for people. And I always expect them to pay me back. You’d be surprised at the connections I have.”

  We were sat in a small square, the corners of which were marked with boxed-in gardens; a few flowers, a few shrubs, neatly clipped back. A hint of nature, without it becoming intrusive. Several coffee shops and restaurants surrounded the space, their tables and chairs sprawling across the pavement, competing for space. They were the kind of establishments that sold homemade, organic cakes alongside their organic coffee in recycled cups. Nothing processed, nothing mass-produced. All so that people could feel better about themselves, pretend that they were somehow superior, that they weren’t just consumer robots seduced by slick advertising. That sipping this coffee made them different, even though, while they drank, they also shopped on the net, buying all the crap they didn’t need but were told they did.

  “My sister comes here?” I asked.

  “Almost every day,” Dai replied. He nodded to a coffee shop in front of us. “Skinny latte with vanilla syrup.”

  “Really?”

  Dai laughed and punched me playfully on the arm. “I don’t know! But, yeah, she comes here quite regularly.”

  I frowned and rubbed my arm, shuffling further away from him. We weren’t friends or comrades, he’d made it clear that I was under his control, even if he did refuse to use the word ‘prisoner’.

  He looked at me. “I guess our relationship isn’t very standard, is it?”

  I frowned at my boots and said nothing.

  “Look, in a way, every single relationship is screwed up. There’s always some kind of power dynamic.” He shrugged. “Why should ours be any different? But you don’t need to be so serious about it.”

  “About your threats to kill me and everyone close to me if I try to leave? Sure, why would I ever be ‘serious’ about that?”

  “You really need to lighten up.”

  I huffed. “What is it with you people? Why do you always say that? You kill traders for sport. Why should I take that lightly? And how can you take it so lightly?”

  “We don’t do it for sport.”

  “Then, why do you do it?”

  Dai looked at me for a moment, his mouth a hard, straight line. And then he looked past me, focussing on something past my shoulder.

  I turned around.

  “There she is,” Dai said.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected—some kind of bolt of recognition, some kind of psychic explosion, something monumental, something to mark this moment as earth-shattering, world-shaking—b
ut nothing happened. I simply watched a teenage girl, who looked a bit like my sister did, walk across the square. I’d imagined this moment, running through hundreds of possibilities; emotional breakdowns, outbursts of rage, running, hugging, crying. But I had never once imagined an emotional void, a moment no more significant than passing a stranger in the street.

  “What now?” I whispered, more to myself than to Dai.

  Omori looked up, her eyes at first skimming past us, but they snapped back, and focussed. She stopped, stared for a moment, and then hurried back the way she came.

  I stood up. Dai stood up next to me, laying one hand gently on my arm.

  “She saw us,” I said. “Did you see that?” I looked at Dai, but he simply shrugged in reply. “Did you see the way she looked at us?” I urged.

  “What?”

  “She knew me. She knew who I was. Why would she stop and stare like that otherwise? She knew me.” It took some effort to stop myself bouncing up and down like an excited toddler. They’d taken all of her memories away, but, somehow, somewhere deep inside of herself, Omori knew me.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Dai. “A trader and a rogue out together? That’s something to stare at. Everyone was staring.”

  44

  SENETSU

  Saji charged through the front door, stumbling over the mat, and practically falling into the kitchen. He grabbed the back of one of the dining chairs and managed to come to a stop. His eyes were wide, his face pale, his breathing ragged.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “Liberation,” he gasped, pointing towards the open front door. “Liberation.”

  “Omori!” I screamed.

  But the officers were already at the door, they were already pouring in like a dam had broken.

  I raced forward, my hands up, trying, somehow, to stem the flow. But it pushed me to one side like a twig.