by Terry Brooks
T.J. leads them over to the Onyx and triggers the wing doors open. The interior is snug and padded and seats six. T.J. assumes the driver’s position, and Jenny sits next to him. Ash and Holly occupy the next row.
When T.J. turns on the engine, there is no sound. The engine is powered by solar cells. The boy pulls the Onyx out of the brilliant circle of light that illuminates its strange form and disappears into the shadows beyond. A bay door slides to one side, and they drive into a tunnel that winds ahead for a short distance to a ramp that climbs to a second sliding door. Once aboveground, they are inside the warehouse T.J. mentioned earlier, a cavernous building that is virtually empty of everything but debris and cast-off materials. T.J. triggers cameras that monitor the outside of the building, studies what lies beyond, and once satisfied, opens a door leading out.
They are at the rear of the building where those traveling the Straightaway will not notice them. T.J. pulls through a gate that opens onto a narrow alleyway. Though they cannot be easily seen in the absence of direct light, it is better to stay clear of the busier streets. Even at this hour of the night, there is always traffic.
Ash feels a tingle of anticipation. He is adrenaline charged and experiences the first stirrings of fear. They are about to break into a building and steal information. If they are caught, things will become more difficult than they already are. He will lose what little freedom he enjoys. His friends could lose more.
They arrive at Narwhal Systems, a huge gleaming edifice rising high above the surrounding buildings. The corporate logo with the letters NS speared through by a ribbed horn is visible over the arched entry. Lights blaze in offices throughout, a warning that the building is occupied and alarmed. T.J. drives around to the side of the building and uses a handheld remote to open a loading bay door that takes them beneath the building to a series of loading docks.
He pulls the Onyx into a shadowed corner and looks over at Ash. “Ready?”
Ash, Holly, and Jenny climb out of the vehicle quickly and move to a bank of elevators. T.J. remains in the Onyx. They climb into the elevator, and Holly uses a cyber-splitter—a tiny beam-directed projector she holds right up against the digital readout to bypass the inhibitors that prevent ordinary traffic from stopping on certain floors. The elevator goes straight to 22. No one speaks as they stare at the changing numbers on the digital overhead.
When they exit the elevator, they are standing in a dark hallway. They don the night lenses and move down the hall until they reach a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Again, Holly uses the splitter on the readout panel, and again, the inhibitors and locks are bypassed. They enter the room that houses the mainframe units to all the individual computers throughout the building. There are no lights in this room either, and Jenny leaves it that way as she moves over to a terminal and takes a seat. The night lenses allow for perfect vision. In minutes, she has powered up the service unit, hacked into the security system that protects the most valuable files, bypassed the lockouts, and found what she is looking for.
“Here you go,” she whispers to Ash. “Read them through. Memorize everything.”
She steps away, and he takes a seat and begins. He reads quickly, his mind absorbing words and structure, his eyes roving swiftly along sentences from paragraph to paragraph, organizing it as he goes. He gives himself over completely to his task, clearing his mind of everything but the memorization. His concentration is complete, and he finishes in just over ten minutes.
“Done,” he announces, pushing back his chair and standing.
“Done?” Holly asks in disbelief.
Jenny gives a nod of approval. “Holly, take Ash back out to the elevators and wait for me there. I have to wipe the cameras and then shut everything down so there won’t be any evidence we were here. It will only take me a few minutes.”
Ash accompanies Holly out of the room, and they stand facing each other. “That was impressive,” Holly tells him. “Can you really remember all that?”
“I think so,” he says, forcing a disarming grin.
Holly shakes her head and says nothing else. Standing next to her, Ash is reminded of how big she is. Her sheath molds to her body. He can identify the parts of her that are composite metals. One arm and shoulder, the opposite leg, and sections of her torso. There is no sound of component pieces moving when she shifts. He wonders how it feels to have so much of your flesh and bone replaced with alloys.
A few minutes later, Jenny appears. “Let’s go.”
They retrace their steps, hurry over to the Onyx, climb in, and drive away. In less than two hours, they have returned to Street Freaks.
Jenny immediately pulls Ash aside.
“Keyboard or transfer orally everything you remember onto this,” she instructs, handing him a sophisticated recorder pad. “Use my office. It will be quieter there, allowing you to concentrate better. I’ll take a look when you’re done.”
Ash goes in, closes the door, sits at her desk, and begins to dictate into the recorder pad. It takes him no time at all. When he is done, he scrolls through his recording, satisfies himself that everything has been set down accurately, and walks out.
Jenny takes the recorder pad from him and goes into her office. Does she need his help with the language? Some of it was admittedly technical and completely beyond anything he understood. Maybe he ought to say something.
He decides against it. If she needs his help, she will ask.
He goes over to sit down with Holly and T.J. Woodrow wanders up to join them. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Holly says at once. “You should have seen how fast Ash memorized those documents. Talk about speed-reading!”
“Presumably memorized those documents,” T.J. corrects. “We have to wait and see how much he actually remembered.”
Ash says nothing. The minutes pass slowly. Woodrow says the alarms went off twice in their absence, but the monitors did not reveal the presence of any intruders. When Ash asks, the boy tells him Cay hasn’t returned either. T.J. rolls his eyes and lets his tongue hang out.
When Jenny emerges, she is smiling. “Very good work, Ash. You passed with flying colors. Your memory is an astounding asset. You got it right almost to the last word.”
Ash starts to thank her and then hesitates. “How do you know I got it right?”
“Because I copied the actual documents after you left. This was a test, remember? I had to know for sure. I had to let you think it was for real. We could have simply copied those documents ourselves. But there will be times when that isn’t the case, and now we know we can count on you instead.”
Ash nods slowly, more irritated than pleased. He almost asks what would have happened if he had gotten it wrong. But he decides at the last minute that maybe he doesn’t want to know.
- 17 -
Ash sleeps well that night, untroubled by dreams. When he wakes, he feels rested and content. He is a member of this odd family now, and even the fact that he was tested to make sure he belongs doesn’t trouble him. He can understand why Jenny would find it necessary. If their situations were reversed, he would have done the same.
Perhaps, too, he sleeps well because nothing bad happened. His worries proved pointless. Not once were they threatened. They walked in, hacked into the computer files, and walked out again. Maybe what they did was illegal, but it doesn’t feel like it. Perhaps his concerns are unfounded. Perhaps Jenny is right and he is helping to bring the worst of the big corporations down a notch or two.
He realizes he is rationalizing because he slept well and feels good and wants his new life to start here, but the specter of ORACLE and his uncle are still out there, and he cannot afford to pretend that the threat they present to him will go away.
He lies back in his bed for a time, listening to T.J. snore, thinking about his situation. It is almost a week now since he sent his DNA and blood samples to the lab for testing, and he still hasn’t heard anything. It is days since he took his last ProLx, and nothing about his ph
ysical condition seems to have changed. He is suffering no troubling symptoms or experiencing any adverse reactions. It appears he does not need his medication.
But he wishes he could be sure. The fact that he hasn’t heard anything definitive may have something to do with Cay’s still being away, and she is the one the lab would contact. He reminds himself he must be patient. Today, this seems easy. There is no reason to stress out when he is feeling this good.
He rises, dresses quietly, and goes down to find some breakfast. As he leaves the room, he glances momentarily at Woodrow, parked in his customary corner, sound asleep. He looks like an exotic toy. Ash lets him be.
The sun has risen and the day has begun, but no one seems to be up and about. The bedrooms are quiet, and when he walks downstairs, the bays stand empty.
Then he sees it through the window glass. On the other side of the bay doors, parked close to the building, sits Starfire.
He walks over for a closer look, peers outside, and scans the parking area. There is no one in sight. He finds it hard to believe Starfire’s owner would simply leave the racer sitting out like this. But maybe it is not as vulnerable as it seems. Perhaps it has its own protections. Perhaps someone at Street Freaks knows it is there.
What a beautiful machine, he thinks, wishing suddenly it was his, wishing he could drive it. Of late, T.J. has been letting him drive the Flick, riding with him, instructing him on the finer points of racing. He seems to enjoy doing so, and Ash is happy to have the other’s advice. He revels in the power of the Flick, but is besotted by Starfire. One day, he tells himself, he will have such a car.
He turns away and goes into the dining room. Holly Priest is sitting alone at the table, eating cereal. “Morning, Ash,” she greets him, her broad shoulders hunched, her black hair spiky and mussed.
“Morning,” he answers.
He grabs some coffee and toast and goes over to join her. “Everyone else sleeping?”
“Seems so. Good job last night.”
“Will I be tested some more or am I really in?”
She glances up, her strong features wrinkling with silent laughter. “You can stop worrying. Don’t let last night be a problem. You’re one of us now. You’re a Street Freak.”
“How does it happen?” Ash asks, suddenly curious. “I know how I got here, but how about the rest of you? How did you end up here?”
He has asked this before, but he has never been given an explanation.
Holly shrugs. “The Shoe found us. He doesn’t talk about it, but that’s what I was told. I was housed at an experimental hospital where they rebuilt me after the accident. They didn’t like what I’d become after they finished remaking me. Too much attitude. They were going to terminate me. But someone called the Shoe. He saved my life. I won’t ever forget that.”
Ash understands how she feels. He feels the same—grateful and beholden. But he wonders why the Shoe, of all people, was summoned to Holly’s bedside. He wonders who made the call. Was the Shoe summoned for the others too?
“Did you know Starfire is parked out front?” he asks her instead.
She nods. “She was brought in early this morning. We have to prep her for the Sprint.”
“What’s that?”
She gives him a look. “Jeez, Ash. Your education is pathetic. You’ve been spending entirely too much time on the wrong things. The Sprint is a race. Not just any race. The race. Held once a year on the Straightaway. Street machines go up against each other for the Red Zone Street Racing World Championship. Bragging rights and a million credits. Worldwide pay-for-view coverage—although mostly fans want to attend in person. Each race is one mile, one opponent, one shot. Lose, and you’re out. Win, and you get to keep racing until you’re the only one left.”
“A million credits?” He gives her a look.
She shrugs. “The bragging rights are more important. All the machines are built by businesses located in the Zone. That’s a requirement of entry. Street Freaks is one of those businesses. Starfire is ours. We built her for this year’s race; T.J. will drive her.”
“T.J.?” Ash is unable to keep the doubt from his voice.
“He’s good,” Holly says. “Better than good, really. He’s won this race twice already driving our machines. He makes good use of that hand-eye coordination his chemical stew provides. All that genetically enhanced ability to assess what needs doing in a split second. Since he won the last two, he’s the favorite to win this one.”
Jenny walks into the room, pours herself a cup of coffee, and sits next to Ash. “T.J. is as good as Holly says he is. But there are other good racers and machines too. Most of the Zone’s clubs are involved. Including the Razor Boys. They help build racers for Lonnergon’s. Not as flashy or as fast as ours, but good enough to compete.”
“Don’t tell me Ponce drives.”
“Okay, we won’t,” Holly cuts in quickly. “’Cause he doesn’t.”
She gives Jenny a look that Ash doesn’t miss.
“The importance of the Sprint goes way beyond the race itself,” she continues. “It’s the one day of the year when everyone pays attention to the Zone. Otherwise, we’re just a place for misfits and castoffs and illicit pleasures. But for this one day, everyone can see we’re something more. Everyone watches us. On private vidviews or by standing in person along the Straightaway.”
“It’s about recognition and pride,” Jenny adds. “The whole Zone is a part of it, and it carries them past the reputation it has otherwise. It shows they are something more—something important. This Zone is a place for those who like things the way they once were better than how they are now. Those who live here want the freedom to be the way they want to be. They don’t want a lot of rules and conditions determining the direction of their lives. You’ve seen the people who live here. Outcasts and outlaws. Discards. That’s how other people—people who believe themselves normal—see us. But on this one day, they see us as something more.”
“Sounds like a big deal,” Ash says, sipping at his coffee, which has cooled by now. He follows professional racing, but that’s not street racing, and you can watch it for free. “So a lot of outsiders come into the Zone on race day?”
“Over two million will line the Straightaway. Millions more will watch on vidview.”
“Right outside our gates?” Ash is suddenly worried. “But we don’t have to go out there, do we?”
“We watch the race from our roof. But meanwhile we have one assignment—prep Starfire.”
Which is what happens after T.J. and Woodrow wake and breakfast is completed. They bring Starfire inside, close the bay doors, and begin a carefully orchestrated series of preparations. The big engine is tuned, the fluids are changed out, the tires are balanced anew, gauges are recalibrated for accuracy, and relays and circuits are checked for flaws. Starfire is placed on a lift to allow for a close examination of her undercarriage, then brought down again so Woodrow can oversee a series of tests on the computers that determine her responsiveness to her driver’s commands. It all takes an enormous amount of time because everything must be gone through with extreme care. For the first time Ash can remember, Jenny does not retreat to her office to work on her computers but instead stays with the others to oversee their efforts. She relies on a checklist that is pages long and runs down each page item by item. Now and then she stops to ask them to check again.
This takes the entire day and well into the night and continues the following morning. Ash pitches in to help the others. Frequently his job is to fetch and carry. Sometimes he helps with the heavy lifting, although much of the time Holly is strong enough to handle things by herself. He buffs and polishes Starfire’s gleaming body and interior workings, following up as the others finish the technical and mechanical work. Her overall appearance is already striking, but on race day she must be perfect.
During these two days, he sees no sign of either the Shoe or Cay. He would like to ask the others where they are and what they are doing, but he cannot
bring himself to do so. He waits up all night for Cay on the first night, on a pretext of studying manuals on computer repairs, about which Woodrow has been teaching him. Mornings, he rises early on the chance she might have returned and is still up, drinking coffee in the kitchen. Once he sneaks into her sleeping room to see if there is any evidence of her having come and gone, but her bed is made and the area around it is undisturbed.
He misses her badly. Some of it is due to his memory of their time together when they hid out at her cottage. Some of it is the way his imagination continues to work when he thinks of her, creating scenarios that will allow them to be together, to share a life. He imagines all the barriers that prohibit synths and humans from being couples torn down and all the prejudices and fears overcome. It is all foolish and unlikely, and he knows it. It is pointless and, when all is said and done, it will likely prove heartbreaking.
Still, his thoughts are of her, and he does little to discourage them because they are the sweetest thoughts he knows.
On the afternoon of the third day, after Jenny has gone down the checklist twice, she announces they are finished. Starfire is as ready as she will ever be. She looks beautiful; she has been washed and polished until she gleams. T.J. assures them she will look even better when he crosses the finish line as winner of this year’s Red Zone Championship.
“Let’s go out this evening,” Holly says suddenly, looking around at the others. “Let’s go have some fun!”
“Yeah!” T.J. agrees. “Let’s go down to Winners Circle and see how everyone else is doing. They’ll all be there—drivers, crews, fans, reporters, skints, and scarfs.”
“Skints and scarfs?” Ash asks.
“High rollers and freeloaders. Jeez, Ash. You really are ignorant.” He turns to the others. “Come on! Let’s go!”
