Catalyst

by Lydia Kang

  “Can you feel this?” I ask, tugging one last time.

  “I feel everything,” she says quietly.

  I know exactly what she means.

  CHAPTER 8

  WE KNOW WE’RE GETTING CLOSER TO THE confluence of Neia’s, Ilmo’s, and Winmi’s borders. Huge Neia-sponsored holo ads started popping up everywhere, begging us to stay in Neia, promising a lax morality code and lovely pale complexion, from the absence of harmful sunrays.

  One of the cloaking buttons falls off our char after we hit a pothole, so we abandon it behind an old house and I grab my duffel bag. In the distance, huge, glowing blue plasma fences line the borders between Neia and Ilmo. There really is no good way out of Neia here except through the legal entrances.

  Caliga leans heavily on me as we try to blend in with the crowds converging on the entrance areas. I recognize the building style of the Neia New Citizens Processing Center. It’s all blue glass and silver metal, like a giant dewdrop fallen from the agriplane. We went through a similar building when Dad, Dyl, and I entered Neia from Okks.

  They’d given us beautiful strands of sunseed flowers to wear around our necks and hair. We’d pressed our F-TIDs into a tablet that outlined the rules and bylaws of Neia that we were required to obey. I hardly remember them now. Something about a minimum residence of one year; taxes; and morality codes written in a tiny, scripted font meant to be skimmed over with a hurried eye.

  I never noticed the rules about HGM 2098, but back then I had no idea it would ever apply to me. And no idea that Neia would cause the worst pain of my life—after losing Dad, Dyl, and, later, Cy there.

  We pass the Neia dewdrop building and try to look inconspicuous, but Caliga’s tottering limp captures people’s attention. Her trembling hands tell me she’s more scared than unsteady. For once, I don’t mind having her arms on me. Cy and Blink walk a good ten feet behind us.

  Discarded, dissolvable flyers in various states of decomposition litter the ground. If we had legal holo studs on, our holo feeds would be inundated with ads. People crowd thickly at the Fast-Track lines, where previously approved people are set up with jobs and housing. The rest of the untested and undecided swivel their heads, reading the different holo signs and trying to magically extract the truth from the gossamer flyers.

  I’m tempted to see if any of them offer a clue about Wingfield or missing mothers. I haven’t told Cy about either one. It seems like I’ll never get a moment alone with him, and the thought suffocates me all at once.

  “Stay close,” Caliga whispers, and I remember that I need to be her human shield, so no one will feel her effects. But the crowds are too dense. When a few people clutch their faces and stomachs because of her numbing presence, I dig up a shirt from my bag.

  “Hold this to your face and cough like you’re losing a lung,” I offer.

  It works. People give us a wide berth. Fear of communicable diseases can be a good thing.

  We’re able to dodge most of the solicitors. They’re all dressed in the State colors of Minwi, Ilmo, and Inky: green, blue, and gray, respectively. A few grays are clad in head-to-toe smocks and elaborate headdresses. They’re all women, and one of them beelines toward me and Caliga. All that is human is concentrated onto an oval of pink skin, blue eyes, and rouged lips. She delivers a toothy smile.

  “Inky has the lowest rate of State emigration! People never want to leave, because our quality of life is superb.” When she comes too close, I push Caliga farther behind me and intercept the flimsy flyer she places into my hand.

  “Inky?” I try to remember my geography. “Inky doesn’t border Neia.”

  “We have an underground magtrain that will take you straight to the city of Coventry. We reach out to welcome women to our family.”

  She makes Inky sound like a spider with a huge leg span. We have no interest in going to Inky. I take the flyer to be polite. It’s lighter than tissue paper and flashes words in gentle hues of pink and lavender.

  INKY: WHERE YOU CAN BE QUEEN!

  FULFILL A WOMAN’S GREATEST DESTINY

  FULL VOTING RIGHTS

  LOW TAXES; GUARANTEED SHELTER

  FREE HEALTH CARE

  NONEXISTENT UNEMPLOYMENT

  FAMILY FRIENDLY

  I give her a polite smile, then stick out my tongue after she scurries to hand a flyer to Blink. She can’t fool anyone. The flyer should actually read:

  INKY: WHERE YOU CAN BE A BREEDER!

  FULFILL WHAT THEY CONSIDER YOUR ONLY DESTINY

  FULL VOTING RIGHTS WHEN YOU’RE NOT KNOCKED UP, WHICH IS NEVER

  NO TAXES BECAUSE THEY STEAL THEM FROM YOUR PAYCHECK ANYWAY

  GUARANTEED SHELTER IN A BABY-MAKING FACTORY

  FREE FERTILITY TREATMENTS

  UTERUS FRIENDLY

  I hand the flyer to Caliga behind me, where she rips it into tiny sparkling bits of trash, snorting. Plenty of women go to Inky for a few years, gather some money for themselves, and try to leave after they realize what a horror show it is. The sad thing is, you lose parental rights to your own babies if you leave, and half the time, they send the children to neighboring states whose own birth rates are abysmally low, in exchange for a State “donation” of goods or cash.

  “Where’s the Ilmo entrance?” Caliga asks impatiently. She’s starting to limp more and her face is drained of energy. This is the most she’s walked since we left Carus.

  “There,” Cy calls out from behind us. He’s pointing beyond the crowds.

  There’s a blue crescent-shaped awning and a huge line to get in. Nearby, the Minwi line snakes in front of a green tree-shaped entrance. It’s nearly as crowded. To the far right is the entrance to the underground magtrain to Inky. The line of women there is all but obscured by the crushing crowds from Minwi and Ilmo.

  “How am I supposed to get into Ilmo?” Caliga whines. If we try to enter the crowd, people will start dropping like hail.

  “How did you cross State lines before?” Blink asks. “When you came to Neia from Arla?”

  “I went in the sewage tunnels. No people. But that’s how I got this,” she says, pointing to her ailing leg.

  “Okay, we’re not doing that,” Cy says flatly.

  “We could try the north border. Some of the plasma fences break down. We could sneak through,” Blink suggests.

  “But Caliga’s going to need more antibiotics soon,” I tell her.

  “That’s not an option, then,” Cy agrees. Blink’s mouth stays a flat line, like she doesn’t care. Interesting.

  I glance at the interviewing going on inside the Ilmo entrance. “Look, once we get past the crowd, they ask us stuff across a partition.”

  Caliga already looks relieved. “Then I have a chance.”

  We’re interrupted by blaring music. Caliga grabs my elbow and points to a flashing holoboard above the green-tree Minwi entrance. A bearded man wearing a tie and green coat smiles garishly.

  “Minwi proudly offers the first screening procedures to ensure our citizens have the purest DNA! No need to fear harm from this new breed of mutant convicts in the States!”

  I duck my head down and stare at my hands. Anything to take the focus off my fiery face.

  “It’s okay, no one’s staring at us,” Caliga says low, her hand on my back. “But look what’s happening.”

  I let my eyes flick up quickly. The crowd around the Ilmo line sways and hesitates. The uncertainty spreads like an infection. Several groups of people break away to switch to the Minwi line.

  The officials in the Ilmo entrance can’t hide the disgust and jealousy in their faces. They start shouting over the loudspeakers about their imminent plans for state-of-the-art screening, but it’s too late.

  The crowd in front of Ilmo’s blue crescent awning is no longer dense. Caliga and I could wriggle our way in without getting too close to anyone. I dip my chin at
Cy and Blink, who nod back. We worm our way closer to Ilmo’s entrance.

  “How am I going to deal with the physical exams and everything?” Caliga mutters nervously.

  “Maybe they’ll have CompuDocs, instead of people. We’ll see.”

  Caliga and I stay in the same line, and Cy and Blink go to another one. When we’re nearly at the front of the line, her hand on my arm squeezes me painfully. She’s staring at a huge holoboard behind the rows of cubicles. It’s a news thread going loud enough for anyone to hear.

  “On today’s Inter-State Agenda news, the deadly DNA that killed Senator Milford has finally been identified, belonging to a Zelia Shirley Benten. Anyone knowing the whereabouts of this individual is urged to contact their local State officials.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Caliga lifts an eyebrow and whispers, “Shirley? Really?”

  “Shh!” I whisper.

  My face appears on the screen, a school photo from two years ago. I hold my breath. Maybe if I don’t move, no one will see me.

  “Officials have been asked to take extra precautions, as Benten is a known flight risk from Neia. She is linked to a recent attack in Omaha involving other illegal individuals in which several police officers were injured.”

  Oh no. Carus House. Now that’s on the news too.

  The collective noise decrescendos, and my pulse rises in response. Heads rise above the cubicles. Both officers and the hopeful to-be citizens of Ilmo take a moment to scan their surroundings. I can’t duck. I can’t hide.

  One small girl perched onto the hip of a frazzled mother ahead of us stares at my image on the screen, then twists about abruptly. Her mother groans with annoyance, trying to keep her child from falling off her hip.

  “Mama. Look.” The little girl points at my face. I freeze, as only the guilty can. Her mother turns to look, thinking to scold her child.

  She doesn’t.

  When I hear her scream, I spin around. Cy and Blink are already bolting away from the entrance. Caliga grabs my hand, and the pain of her grip doesn’t faze me.

  We run.

  CHAPTER 9

  FOUR LARGE, AZURE-CLAD POLICE OFFICERS COME forward, scanning the crowd. We calm our run down to a walk and dodge behind a holoboard kiosk, panting.

  “What are we going to do?” Caliga whispers, her scarred eyes wide with panic.

  “Nous devrions retourner à la voiture,” Blink says rapidly. She clutches at Cy’s arm like he’s a life preserver.

  “No, we can’t. The char’s nearly out of fuel,” he responds, still scanning the crowd for a way out.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I say hurriedly. “Inky.” I toss my head toward the closest group of gray-smocked women.

  “No! We can’t!” Cy is a decibel away from yelling. Blink hangs back too.

  “Absolutely not!” Caliga enunciates the words like they’re infused with needles. “Are you insane?” she hisses. “There’s got to be a better choice.”

  “This is our only choice!” I reason. “We’re out of fuel. We don’t have enough food for four people. And you’ll be septic in two days if we can’t get more antibiotics.”

  Cy pinches his eyes shut. “She’s right. Everyone knows Inky takes in the dregs of society. The only other thing to do is to turn ourselves in.”

  And never see Dyl and my family again? “We are NOT turning ourselves in,” I whisper fiercely, and Cy starts with surprise at the aggression in my words. We all scan the carnival-like environment around us. Guards are peppered throughout the crowd. One pair is only twenty feet away, and they’re walking toward us.

  “We’re screwed,” Caliga says helplessly.

  “Exactly,” I say, and we turn collectively to the group of Inky women. The nearest one’s eyes narrow when she sees Cy. She quickly replaces her disappointment with happiness. I can actually see her molars, she’s smiling so hard.

  “Well hello, ladies! And . . . gentleman.” She tips her head with artificial graciousness toward Cy. I don’t like the way she says ladies. “Are you interested in entering Inky?”

  “Yes!” We all say it a little too fast.

  “We have a magtrain leaving momentarily. Why don’t you join us and we can discuss it on the way?” She takes a few steps toward us. Reflexively, I slide in front of Caliga.

  “She’s not yet vaccinated. Wouldn’t want you to get what she’s got right now,” I warn her. Caliga coughs loudly for dramatic effect, and it works. The Inky woman steps away with haste.

  We start walking forward, but she holds a hand out, stopping Cy.

  “However. We are not accepting males at this time,” she says.

  “Just looking for manual labor,” Cy says quickly. He motions to me. “She’s my sister. You said families could stay together, right?”

  Caliga pinches my arms, because the officers from Ilmo are getting close. It’s now or never. The gray lady studies us. C’mon! I want to yell. We’re young! And kinda, sorta, not really fertile, but we look like it, right?

  “Very well. Since there are three of you ladies, we should be able to work this out. Follow me.”

  She leads us to a simple, unadorned white awning. Underneath, there are no cubicles and no officials. The walls pulsate in shades of pale pink and blue, like some sort of disco baby womb.

  “Here you go.” She ushers us onto a long, silver escalator leading down to the magtrain. As we descend into the claustrophobic depths, the woman waves a cheerful good-bye from the top.

  “There’s only one escalator,” Caliga says. Great. There’s no backing out now. Caliga leans into me. “How am I going to hide this?” She waves at her body. “And I’ve heard the stories about Inky. No one’s going to force me to be pregnant.” I’m thinking the exact same thing, but I stay quiet. I may have promised Marka to care for Caliga’s leg, but her emotional well-being isn’t my responsibility.

  At the bottom of the escalator, a white magtrain hums and hovers on its tracks. Oval compartments connect like giant glossy beads on a string. A cloaked guard points to an open compartment.

  “Ladies, please take the near one.” He turns to Cy. “You’ll be down there, in the men’s pod.” He points all the way to the other end of the magtrain. We all glance nervously at one another.

  Blink complains before I can even open my mouth. “But—”

  “No exceptions. You can apply for coupling requests later after we arrive.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll see you there,” Cy says to Blink. Not me.

  “Wait.” I step quickly and reach for Cy. I don’t even know what I’m going to say or do. At this point, I’m even afraid to give him a kiss on the cheek, but it doesn’t matter, because the guard stops me.

  “Public contact between the sexes is forbidden.”

  “It’s okay, Zel. It’s only a train ride,” Cy says to me. With an obedience that surprises me, Cy heads quickly down the platform. I stare at him so long that Caliga yanks my arm.

  “Let’s go,” Caliga says. She limps toward our compartment, and Blink and I follow her. Inside, there are four holo screens along the short wall with seats in front of them, some reclining chairs, and steps to an upper room. Blink sits herself on a corner chair, gathers her knees to her chest, and turns to face the windowless wall. A garish welcome sign flashes across the holo screens. Caliga watches the doors close. Her hand goes to her chest.

  “I can’t breathe.”

  I roll my eyes. “Believe me, you can.” I wonder what Cy is doing in his compartment. As if on cue, his voice enters my head in a faint whisper.

  I hope you’re all okay. There is a pause, and then: I’m alone in here.

  I wait for Cy to speak to me. For me only. One line of the poem, maybe. But his voice stays silent. Suddenly, words blare out from the walls.

  “Welcome aboard the magtrain to Inky, the State that creates tomorrow�
�s hope! Our journey will take forty minutes! We will be serving a beverage and meal shortly, followed by our entrance procedures! Please follow the holo screens for more instructions! Thank you, and welcome to Inky!”

  The voice sounds a little bit like Dyl, except on a gallon of caffeine. Every exclamation is a fork in my ribs. Our good-bye seems years ago, not two days ago. And Cy hardly seems happy about being reunited again.

  I could ask Blink why. But that would mean admitting that I need a map to a place I used to know by heart.

  So I head for the stairs, relieved to find a chaise where I can lie down. Oblivion would be nice, even if only for a few minutes.

  “Where are you going?” Caliga stops her anxious pacing to stare at me.

  “Nap.”

  “How can you sleep at a time like this?”

  “Easy. Watch me.”

  I flop down on a spotless cream chaise. A clicking sound heralds the emergence of a tray sliding out of the wall with a sandwich, orange juice, and vitamin packets. I put on my necklace and squeeze my eyes shut. I hope that I’ll dream of sweeter things.

  • • •

  “HEY. GET UP. IT’S TIME.”

  Caliga prods my arm and I bat her away. My limbs are heavy and asking for a dozen more hours of sleep. The concept of being conscious is coldly depressing.

  “Time for what?” I mumble.

  “For our evaluation,” Caliga says. “You should eat something.”

  I wake up enough to gobble down the sandwich and juice. I push the vitamins away after sniffing them suspiciously.

  Downstairs, the lights are dim and Blink still sits in the corner. Did she move at all? Her black pupils are big and doll-like. She holds my gaze for way too long before dropping her eyes to her lap.

  “I know why you don’t talk with me,” Blink says quietly. There’s an edge to her words. Gritty bits of anger within the lilted vowels. “I am no thief, you know. I will not take anything that is not willingly given to me.”

  My hands clench at her words. The threat is so sharp, it cuts the silence and sits there, a real thing in the room. Even Caliga feels it. She coughs to break the stillness.