“But you drive around in vans that look like kids’ toys?”
“We want to be seen,” Lucien said. “That’s our mission. To help people that need help, and they have to be able to find us with stories. The bright colors tell them who we are—we’re Listeners.”
Coryn blinked. “Listeners? I never heard of Listeners.”
“Well, there aren’t any Listeners in the city. So why would you?”
“I did a lot of research,” she snapped at no one in particular.
Liselle laughed and held her hands up. “Real life is different from stories. That’s something we know. That’s why we’re out here, on the ground.”
That made sense, kind of. “Do people try to steal the vans?”
Lucien laughed. “Not often. They’re bio-chipped to us—no one else can drive them. Besides, we have weapons. They don’t kill anyone, but people leave us alone after a try or two.”
“So what kind of help do you give people?”
He grinned. “Rides.”
“Why?”
“We need information. People trade us that for help.”
Like she was doing. She still wanted to know if they worked for the city, but she was pretty sure they weren’t going to tell her. “What do you do with information?” she asked.
“We watch for patterns.”
She stared out the front window, waiting for them to ask her another question. The caravan of vans had turned twice, and now they were slowing down. They passed slowly up and over a makeshift bridge of stones that crossed a place where the road had been washed out. The van tilted one way, then the other. Aspen stood up on her lap and looked out, and everyone held onto their water glasses.
After the ride smoothed again, Pablo asked her, “So people inside are complaining about having less than the center people, right?”
“Yes.” He meant the really rich people. Like Julianna. The ones who lived in the tops of the biggest buildings and looked down on the rest of the city.
“How do you think people out here feel?”
Pablo looked so earnest that she laughed. “Like they want my robot. But can’t at least some of them get into the city?”
“Not many. There’s so much tech they can’t function.”
They passed a tractor, one of the few things allowed to use gasoline any more. The plume of smoke coming from its pipes made her cough and choke. When she could talk again, she said, “I guess. I see that.”
Liselle laughed, her laugh high and friendly and sweet. “It’s a speed thing. In the city, everything moves fast. How long does it take you to go from Seattle to Tacoma?”
“Half an hour? Depending on where I start.”
“That’s right. On a train.” Liselle flipped her hair away from her face with her hand. “How long would it take you to bike?”
“Maybe three hours. I’m pretty good on a bike.”
Pablo said, “The distance between Duvall and Cle Elum is about twice as far as the distance between Seattle and Tacoma. How long have you been traveling already?”
No need to respond at all. A whole day and a half and she would bet they weren’t halfway there yet. Well, maybe halfway. Pablo was a funny man. He kept making her think but he did it without making her feel like he was talking down to her. She liked him a lot.
“Time to get between places is one thing,” Lucien said. “How many people would you pass between Seattle and Tacoma?”
She had to think about that. “A hundred thousand?”
Lucien smiled. “Add a zero and double it. That would be closer. And that’s if you left out Seattle and Tacoma’s population. Seattle is a million and a half all by itself. All of Seacouver is how many people?”
This time she was going to guess high. “Seven million.”
“Almost ten and a half. Do you know why you care?”
She answered quickly. “Cause that’s how many people have everything they need?”
This time, Pablo answered. “That’s part of it. But it’s not the most important part.”
“What is?”
“Why don’t you think about the differences?”
It felt like being back in school, and she’d been happy to graduate. Oh, she knew she’d take more school someday, but she hadn’t expected her next school to be in a dusty red van with blue fenders and the smell of wild forests coming from beside the road.
“Stopping,” crackled through loudspeakers she hadn’t even known were built into the ceiling. And the van did, almost immediately. The others grabbed their water glasses, but hers spilled across the table and dripped onto Pablo’s pants.
“I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. Pablo put his fingers to his lips.
Aspen leapt across the table and planted himself firmly in Pablo’s lap. The window and door locks snapped shut.
Outside, a long line of people walked down the road. Literally a line, one after the other as if they were single file waiting for the bathroom or something. Creepy. She spotted young people, her age and maybe even a little younger, and older people, and a man with a limp. Not an army. More like a huge family. Then, all at once, they stopped and stared at the vans. This wasn’t casual. The people were about a person’s distance apart, all standing one way. All watching. They had coats and bags and other things, but no one held weapons.
Paula put a hand on her shoulder. “Get down,” she whispered.
“No need,” Liselle whispered back.
Coryn swallowed and looked at Lucien. “Didn’t you say people don’t try to attack you?”
Lucien said nothing, but he glanced from her to the line of people outside, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret the look on his face. Whatever it meant, it did make her feel unwelcome in the van for the first time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For a few long, serious moments, most of the people outside of the vans simply stared at them.
Aspen whined, and Pablo shushed him with a hand run softly across his muzzle.
Liselle held a finger to her ear, her head cocked, listening. Her face creased into a tight frown, but then it opened up a little and she relaxed. “It’s okay,” she said.
“Who are those people?” Coryn asked. “They’re so strange.”
“They’re part of a gathering army,” Lucien whispered, speaking with great emphasis, as if he were trying to tell her something while playing it down. “They won’t hurt us. But will you stay here while we talk to them?”
“All of you?”
“You’ll have Paula.”
“And Aspen?”
Lucien appeared to be amused by her attachment to Aspen. “Of course. No one will hurt you. Keep the doors locked.”
She glanced at the line of people again. “I can’t go with you?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “No. We don’t want to expose Paula, and you shouldn’t leave her.”
“Sorry to make you wait,” Liselle said. “We should be back in half an hour or less.”
“Maybe more,” Pablo countered. He leaned down and picked Aspen up, holding him close for a moment. He kissed the dog between the eyes and was rewarded with a tongue in his ear. He handed him back to Coryn, and for a moment he looked genuinely regretful. “Stay safe.”
She wondered why he was telling her to stay safe when Lucien had just told her she would be safe. Before she had time to frame a question, they had all left and closed the door behind them.
Aspen whined once and then settled on the wide bench, cuddling up next to Coryn. “Sweet boy,” she said. “Sweet.” He made this whole strange situation feel almost okay. Of course, she didn’t like being left. That made her feel vulnerable and left out.
Beside her, Paula stared out the window, her eyes slightly narrowed and her mouth still. Coryn could almost see the electrons burning through her brain. “What?” she asked.
Paula waved a hand outside. “I think this is part of something bigger.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you may have chosen a particul
arly dangerous moment to come Outside.”
“I’m not going back.”
Paula merely looked briefly annoyed at that.
Lines of people still stood nearby, although they’d also apparently gotten the message to relax. They had gone from a single disciplined line to small groups of two and three that talked quietly together, still watching the vans. She counted at least twenty people, maybe twenty-five, and the line went up and down from there.
“Can they see us?” Coryn asked.
“The windows are tinted. So, no, not unless they come right up and peer in.”
Paula sounded . . . careful, so Coryn asked, “What do you think is happening?”
“I can’t tell. Not yet. But I think this might have been one huge mistake.”
“Catching a ride?”
“Leaving the city.”
Coryn knew better than to get angry with Paula. It did no good. She picked up the water glasses and went to the sink to wash them, letting the hot water take her frustration. “We’ll get to Lou.” She could see a little more of the crowd from here. Most of them looked shabby, but strong. Two families had small children, and there were at least four teens in the mix as well. What kind of army brought its children with them? To be fair, this wouldn’t be a crowd at home; in fact, it would be a sparse grouping of people.
She still thought of the city as home. She shouldn’t do that. “It looks like I’ll have to protect you as much as you’ll have to protect me out here,” she told Paula.
“But I don’t care if I die, except that it would mean failure to protect you.”
Paula said things like that from time to time. True—she had volition only inside of a set of parameters. The robot couldn’t just choose to stop being Coryn’s companion, for example. If Coryn told Paula to do something else, she could do that. But if her job changed—say if Coryn sold her—she’d be reassigned, or maybe even reprogrammed, or, if no one wanted such an old model, taken down to her constituent parts and recycled. Still, Paula seemed so alive that direct reminders to the contrary irritated her. She looked Paula directly in the eyes. “Don’t get suicidal.”
“Of course not.”
They sat quietly, watching the people move in a slow stream, or stop and talk, or drink water. It felt like watching a slightly boring scene in a movie.
“I don’t understand these people,” Paula said, almost abruptly, “not even the ones that saved us. I don’t think they mean us any harm, but they want something.”
“Do you know what?”
Paula returned to watching out the window. “No.”
Coryn didn’t know what else to say. She kept cleaning until there was nothing left she felt comfortable doing and sat back down. Pablo’s question still bothered her. Why couldn’t people who lived Outside go back Inside freely? They weren’t—as far as she knew—expressly forbidden from doing so, although there were health checks, and they had to pass tests.
Lucien seemed like he belonged out here, as did Liselle. Pablo might even be a guest, like her. She couldn’t quite tell. But he had gone out with the others, and no one had questioned him.
She tapped Paula on the knee. “What do you think Lucien and the others are talking to those people about? Is your hearing good enough to tell?”
“Probably.”
“Can you tell me what they’re saying?”
“I’m not supposed to do that.”
“You can do it with an overriding command. So I’m giving you one. Tell me what you hear.”
“I have to agree,” Paula reminded her. “So tell me why you want to listen.”
Damned privacy double checks. “I want to know if these people are safe for us, and for you.”
Paula fell quiet for a moment, and Aspen snuggled in close to her. Coryn realized she could open the windows, and hurriedly did so. The van breathed; heat rushed out through the windows, and forest and birdsong and low murmured conversation rushed in.
Coryn whispered, “What do you think Lucien meant by the term gathering army?” After a moment, she added, “I’m curious about what they are gathering to do.”
“If I learn the answers to those questions, I’ll share them with you.” Paula stilled, her gaze loosely focused on the people outside of the van, her body unmoving. Coryn kept expecting her to talk, but she remained silent. Aspen went to the window and peered out, wagging his tail.
Paula finally spoke. “I can’t tell a thing from the crowd outside. They’re not talking about anything important, probably on purpose. Lucien must be blocking the main conversation.”
“Why?” It could be done, although it was hard, at least in the city. She wondered if it would be harder or easier out here in the land of far less technology. Maybe easier.
“I don’t know,” Paula said, somewhat unnecessarily.
“Maybe they’ll tell us.” Coryn paced around the inside of the van. She swept the surfaces clean, wiped up the few open cubbies, and eyed the drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Paula asked.
“Anything. How do I know these people aren’t just taking me along to get you to go quietly? Maybe when we get to this Cle Elum they’ll do exactly what Erich wanted to. Maybe they’ll kill me for my robot.”
Paula answered quickly. “Their body language isn’t threatening. It’s curious.”
“Good.” Paula was programmed to recognize microexpressions and slight modulations in voices; she could see and hear much that Coryn didn’t. Coryn opened the door closest to the kitchen sink. After all, she could say she was looking for a knife. She found small speakers, a few board games, and an old roll-out video screen.
She slid a drawer out from under the bench she’d been sitting on. Fat notebooks filled it. Paper notebooks. They looked so out of place in the high-tech van interior that she leaned down and opened one. Schematics? She snapped a picture with her wristlet, turned the page and snapped another and then another. She sent them to Paula as she went, glancing back over her shoulder once. “What do you think these are?”
“Plans for something. Wiring diagrams, and maybe coding. Look in a few of the other books.”
Paula was encouraging her? She’d expected to be chastised. “Watch out the window.”
Coryn opened three or four more of the books, all she could get to without actually taking them out of the drawers. She snapped pictures of the first and last pages, and a few random ones for good measure. Even with Paula keeping watch, her skin itched with the fear of being caught. Her heart lurched at a slight thump outside the door. “That sounded like a footstep.”
“It’s okay,” Paula replied.
Coryn took a deep breath and abandoned the idea of digging any deeper in the drawer. She carefully lifted the top notebook out and captured its complete contents in pictures, page by page. It took forever. Every noise outside sounded like the others coming back. Paula could do this faster, but it bordered on illegal and Coryn expected she’d refuse. Robots were more bound by laws than humans.
She finished the book and thought about starting another one, but too much time had passed. Surely they wouldn’t leave her alone forever. She closed the drawer and climbed back onto the bench. Why was she convinced the contents of the notebooks were important? Because they were on paper instead of electronic?
She called Aspen to her. It calmed her to pet him, and she giggled when he licked her face. He hopped off her lap, went to the door, and whined, his tail thumping.
Now what? “Should I take him out?”
The door opened and Lucien stepped in, his face unreadable. Liselle followed and shut the door behind her. So Pablo was elsewhere.
The vans started up, and she glanced between the two. Their expressions were closed and hard.
They drove slowly past the string of people. She thought she saw Pablo in among them, wearing a funny wide-brimmed hat and slouching a little. She glanced up. “Where’s Pablo?”
Liselle said, “He had to run an errand.”
“He joine
d them,” she said. “I just saw him.”
Lucien glanced at her. “It was probably someone who looks like him.”
“No,” Coryn replied, suddenly not caring if they believed her. “It was him.”
The silence in the van felt thick and uncomfortable. Lucien and Liselle had changed from the people who had freed her to people who kept secrets. They were both; she knew that. Whatever they were, she wasn’t one of them. Besides, she had her own goals. Hadn’t she already learned how dangerous people out here could be?
Liselle started the bargain up again. “So what about all the people living in the city? Pablo started you thinking, right?”
“Yes,” Coryn said. “The more people you have, the more information they share, and the faster knowledge grows. Network effects.” She paused, reaching to follow a thick thread of an idea. “Network effects brought us down in the first place, people falling into lies and believing them. That was the last gasp of the oil idiocy.”
Lucien smiled, and added, “That’s what brought down the old order. But from death comes life. . . . Without that last bout with stupidity, the cities wouldn’t have risen, and the rewilding would never have started. If we hadn’t had that hard patch, we’d have never made enough changes. We’d all be dead.”
Lou believed that. She continued, “Later, network effects helped us resurrect ourselves with better science and more control of the message. Network effects drive the city forward every day. The city changes public spaces by consensus. It’s like a constant vote.” She stopped, the clarity of her idea waning as she tried to express it.
Lucien encouraged her. “Go on.”
“Well, if you’re part of the same network of ideas and people, then you know what to do. If you’re not, you don’t fit.”
The cousins both stared at her. Did they want more?
It suddenly dawned on her. “I’m right. That’s part of why Outside and Inside are so different.”
“Yes,” Lucien said. “You’re right.”
Liselle spoke softly. “You understand the main point. Network effects among groups can be good or bad.”
Coryn frowned. “I probably left because I didn’t absorb all the common city memes.”
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