The Cityborn

by Edward Willett

  Her future, it seemed, was all tied up in a past she had never even known existed. Twenty years ago, if Yvelle was to be believed, she and Danyl had been babies together in Twelfth Tier Hospital with five other candidate babies. Candidates for what? Yvelle claimed not to know. Apparently Danyl had certain unspecified genetic tags. She had to assume she had them, too—presumably that was what the familiar little scanner Kranz had used on her when he’d taken her aside at her birthday party (just yesterday) determined. Somehow, those genetic tags had justified an elaborate kidnapping scheme undertaken twenty years ago. They didn’t get me back then, so they tried this morning, she thought, but then she frowned. On second thought, that didn’t seem likely. Why wait twenty years?

  If she had been there in the hospital two decades ago, would Yvelle have taken her, too? Would she and Danyl have been raised as brother and sister?

  And then she blinked. Oh, crap. We probably are brother and sister!

  The thought made her feel distinctly . . . odd. She’d only known Danyl for a few hours and hadn’t even had time to decide if she liked him . . . but he was a young male, and there’d been a definite shortage of young males in her life. The thought that the first one she’d been able to spend time with might be her brother was just plain weird, not to mention . . . disappointing.

  Worry about that later, she told herself firmly. First worry about this “meeting.”

  She’d offered to turn herself over to the Provosts to save Danyl. She’d offered again to save the River People. She was still prepared to do that if it would prevent more people from being hurt. But it sounded like it wouldn’t, and secretly, shamefully, that relieved her. She didn’t want to turn herself over to the Provosts. She didn’t want to return to Twelfth Tier and her stultifying life as a prisoner. She didn’t want to meekly submit herself to Kranz and whatever plans he had in mind for her.

  In truth, the adrenaline singing in her veins intoxicated her. She liked being free. She’d never felt more alive—ironic, considering how close she had come to death several times that morning. And the thought that she might have some greater purpose, that somehow she might be able to help liberate the City from the Captain, Kranz, and the Officers . . . that was even more intoxicating.

  She’d never thought she mattered. She’d never thought she could matter. And now, though she had no clue how or why, it seemed she mattered more than anyone she’d ever met . . . except, apparently, Danyl.

  Seven candidate babies. One abducted. One—her—absent the night of the abduction. What had happened to the other five? Did she and Danyl have other unknown could-be siblings hidden away somewhere?

  She frowned. Yvelle had clearly not told the entire story of that night in the hospital, and Alania had a very bad feeling about that. “I would have done anything to take that revenge,” Yvelle had said. “I did do . . . anything . . .”

  Outside the window, the water foamed in the black and murky pool at the base of the cascade. Some of that was liquid from the City, seeping through the mass of garbage piled in the Canyon over centuries. Eventually it all flowed downstream. Just because you threw something into the Middens didn’t mean it vanished forever. At any moment it could surface. And so, it seemed, could events from her past, even if it was a past she’d had no clue existed until today.

  Danyl continued to nap. Alania continued to quiver. And then, finally, Nobu said, “Time to go.”

  Danyl came instantly awake. He got up from the chair. “Ready?” he asked Alania.

  “How can I be?” she asked.

  His mouth twitched into an almost-smile. “Point.”

  “This way,” Nobu said. He waited while they donned their backpacks again, then led them back out through the reception area and down the hall to the big colonnaded room they had entered from the elevator. It now held perhaps seventy people—all, or nearly all, of the River People, Alania assumed. Like Alania and Danyl and everyone else they’d seen, they were mostly dressed in a motley assortment of clothes, much patched and of wildly different styles, except for the few like Idell—soldiers, she guessed she’d call them—who wore all black, like Chrima and Nobu and the others had when they’d retrieved Danyl and Alania from the net. Only a couple of the River People looked older than Yvelle; most looked much younger. There were even a handful of children among them, from toddlers to teens, and one babe in arms, suckling quietly at the breast of its mother.

  Yvelle stood with the elevator at her back on a simple dais made of an old packing crate, her face illuminated by the bluish light from the shadowed Canyon streaming in through the glass wall. The River People stood silently around her, without the chatter Alania would’ve have expected—but then, in a community this small, discussions and rumors must have already spread like an infection, and now the denizens of the former resort were waiting to hear the truth. Nobu led Alania and Danyl to the back of the group, so unobtrusively that no one even turned toward them.

  “Earlier this morning,” Yvelle said without preamble, “I received a transmission from Erlkin Orillia, warning me that he was sending two young people our way.” She indicated Alania and Danyl, and as every head turned to look at them, Alania suddenly felt very small and exposed. Without even thinking about it, she reached out for Danyl. He flinched a little at her touch but then gripped her hand firmly and squeezed it.

  “Not quite twenty years ago,” Yvelle continued, “I abducted that young man, Danyl, from a hospital on Twelfth Tier. I did so at the behest of the revolutionary organization that calls itself the Free Citizens, dedicated to overthrowing the leadership of the City. Some of you, I know, are familiar with the Free. Their leader, a man known to me only as Prime, told me that Danyl was vital to their goals—that once grown, he might free everyone from the tyranny of the Captain and her Officers.”

  She paused. “Some of you already know that tale,” she continued after a moment. “But this is what you do not know. My orders were to test all seven of the babies in the hospital ward that night for certain genetic tags. The first baby who tested positive—Danyl, as it turned out—I was to abduct. Any baby who did not have the tags, I was to leave alone.” She paused again, and when she continued, it was as if she were forcing each word out through a throat so constricted that even air could barely escape. “And any baby after the first who did have those tags . . . I was to kill.”

  Alania felt as if she’d been punched. There were a few gasps and one muffled “No!” from the River People, but then they stood silent and still, as if frozen in place by the enormity of what they were hearing.

  “And so,” Yvelle continued softly, “I killed a baby that night, a baby of the City, as revenge for the death of my husband and my own unborn child.” Then she looked straight at Alania. “And I would have killed a second one, had she been there.”

  Alania swallowed hard.

  “I delivered the boy to Erlkin Orillia—Ensign Erlkin Orillia, he was then,” Yvelle continued, and that revelation elicited more gasps. “He created an elaborate scheme to make it appear that he and the child had vanished into the Iron Ring. In reality, he descended to the Middens, where he has raised Danyl ever since in quarters Prime had secretly prepared for him, through which many of you have passed. The child I failed to kill—Alania—was raised by Lieutenant Beruthi at the behest of First Officer Kranz. She, like Danyl, turned twenty yesterday. This morning she was to become the ward of First Officer Kranz—for what purpose, I do not know. The Free Citizens somehow knew of this transfer and attempted to kidnap her while she was en route to Kranz’s Quarters. But the attempt failed. Alania took refuge in a trash elevator, one that, by chance, was dumping its contents directly into the Middens. There Danyl found her.

  “Erl, told by Prime what had transpired, understood that the Provosts would soon descend on the Middens to attempt to capture her. He sent her to us, along with Danyl. He hoped his secret entrance into the old staircase from the Rim down
to the River would not be discovered, that he would simply delay the Provosts and then surrender to them. But I was certain it was a vain hope, and I was right; the Provosts found the stairs and pursued Danyl and Alania as far as the Canyon floor. As for Erl . . . I do not know if he still lives.”

  Another general murmur of distress.

  “Those same Provosts will soon attack our haven,” Yvelle continued, voice flat and harsh. “Most likely first thing in the morning. They have already sent a drone. Our time here is at an end.”

  A falling drop of water would have sounded as loud as the waterfall outside in the silence that statement produced.

  “Alania has offered to surrender herself to the Provosts,” Yvelle added after a moment, and Alania felt even more like an insect under a magnifying glass as heads turned in her direction again. “A noble gesture, but it will do no good. Kranz will never allow this community to remain intact now that he is aware of its existence. He cannot permit anyone to live free of the control of the Officers. As I see it, we therefore have three possible courses of action.

  “One: we can turn Danyl and Alania over to the Provosts in exchange for leniency. We might be permitted to return to the City, no doubt to do manual labor in the lower Tiers, closely watched our entire lives and subject to arrest at any time for any perceived missteps.”

  The mutter that ran through the gathered River People this time sounded angry.

  “Two: we can flee. Prime has told me of a way to get safely into the Heartland, but it would take days for everyone to get out that way, and we do not have days. Even those who escaped could only hope to remain free for a short time. There is nowhere to hide in the Heartland, as we well know.” Yvelle paused and surveyed the crowd. Then, “Three: we can send Danyl and Alania on to Prime, as Erl requested.”

  “And then what do we do?” Chrima called. She still wore the beamer rifle Erl had given Danyl strapped across her back.

  Yvelle spread her hands. “We fight.”

  “We die, you mean!” shouted a different woman. “What about the children?”

  “Even the Provosts won’t murder children,” Yvelle said.

  You did, Alania thought.

  “Children and mothers and any others who wish may withdraw to the farthest reaches of the complex and await the outcome of the battle.”

  One of the few men older than Yvelle, his face marred by a gnarled red scar slashing from his throat to his empty right eye socket, shouted, “The Provosts have rifles and beamers. We have bows and arrows and a few knives. The ‘outcome of the battle’ is already certain. We can’t win!”

  Yvelle didn’t deny it. “There are still the first two options,” she said quietly.

  Arguing broke out around the chamber. Unfriendly gazes turned toward Alania and Danyl. She squeezed his hand tighter.

  Chrima’s voice cut through the babble. “What do you recommend, Yvelle? You founded this community. You gave us sanctuary, each of us.”

  The arguing died away, and all heads turned in Yvelle’s direction. She said nothing for a long moment. She looked down at the floor, once again fingering the locket around her neck. She stared at the tiles. Her fingers quieted. She dropped her hand and raised her head, and the light from the window kindled sparks in her eyes.

  “I say we fight,” she said, voice clear and cold. “I killed an innocent baby to take my revenge, and I have regretted it ever since, but I will gladly kill Provosts, the thugs of the Captain, may she rot in hell. For twenty years I have lived free of them. Now I will die free of them on my own terms, protecting my home. I will not flee like a skitterbug across the empty farmland. I will not starve in the Iron Ring. I will not meekly submit to torture and degradation in Tenth Tier. I will fight.” Her gaze swept across the assembled River People like the ray of a beamer. “What about the rest of you? Do we fight? Vote!”

  Some hands went up at once—Chrima’s, Nobu’s. Others followed more slowly. A few hesitated until the last moment . . . but in the end, every hand in the giant chamber was raised except Danyl’s and Alania’s.

  Yvelle nodded once. “The Provosts will not attack today,” she said. “They will need time to organize. Again, dawn is the most likely hour, which gives us time to prepare a welcome. I will meet with the section leaders in my office in twenty minutes.” She looked through the crowd then, her bright eyes finding Alania and Danyl. “You two come with me. Chrima, accompany us.”

  “Yes, Yvelle,” Chrima said.

  The River People scattered, disappearing through the doors and archways leading out of the semicircular room. Yvelle crossed the tiled floor, boot heels clicking. Alania watched her approach and didn’t know whether to hate or pity her.

  “You killed a baby,” she said when the leader of the River People reached them. She hadn’t known she was going to say it until the words came out of her mouth. “A baby.” She had held a baby once at one of the interminable birthday parties, the little brother of one of the girls, and she remembered the awe she had felt as she looked down at that tiny, perfect human being. So much potential, so much future, wrapped up in such a fragile bundle. The thought of snuffing out that infant life when it had barely begun . . . “How could you?”

  Yvelle’s mouth twisted. “You can do anything if you hate enough. And I hated. More than I hope you can ever imagine. My baby had been killed in my womb by the City’s butchering doctors. My husband had been killed on Tenth Tier. The Free gave me a chance to strike back. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to kill any of the babies. But it didn’t stop me from doing what I had to to take my revenge.”

  “You would have killed me if I had been there.”

  Yvelle met her gaze squarely. “Yes.”

  “Who is this Prime?” Danyl demanded. His tone implied that dead babies from twenty years ago didn’t really concern him all that much, and Alania, stung, pulled her hand free of his for the first time since the meeting had started. He didn’t seem to notice. “Erl has never mentioned him to me.” He frowned. “Just like he never mentioned you.”

  “I don’t know who he is. But Erl has provided detailed instructions from him about how you are to make your way to him.”

  “You didn’t have to take us in at all,” Alania said. “You could have drowned us in your waterfall net, put our bodies somewhere upstream for the Provosts to find so they’d never send a drone down here. You might have stayed hidden for years more. So why didn’t you? In my case, it would only have been the twenty-years-delayed fulfillment of your original orders.”

  “The thought crossed my mind,” Yvelle said evenly.

  Chrima, who had been listening silently, shot her a startled look. “A fourth option. But you didn’t mention it in your speech.”

  Yvelle shrugged. “It hasn’t been an option since the drone flew over. The Provosts know Danyl and Alania aren’t dead in the River. And even if they were, Kranz would still send his Provosts down here now that he knows we exist.”

  “So we have to be gone before the Provosts arrive,” Danyl said.

  “And you cannot go until morning,” Yvelle said. “Prime’s instructions make that clear.”

  “But what if you’re wrong and the Provosts attack today?”

  “Then they’ll catch you,” Yvelle said. “Your escape route will not be open until morning.”

  “But it’s a path to the Heartland, from what you said,” Danyl argued. “It must be a long way downstream if it avoids the Rim defenses. Why couldn’t we start along it now?”

  “It doesn’t go downstream,” Yvelle said. “It goes straight up the western wall.” She pointed across the cauldron of the waterfall. “Right there.”

  Danyl’s eyes widened. “That’s suicide!”

  Alania said nothing, but she suddenly felt cold. She knew perfectly well what guarded the Rim this close to the City, and she knew exactly how impossible it was to get by such guards, be
cause she’d been surrounded by their counterparts all her life.

  The Rim was guarded by robots. Killer robots.

  And, ironically, her former guardian had built them.

  SEVENTEEN

  “IT IS NOT suicide,” Yvelle said in response to Danyl’s outburst. “At least, not according to Prime. Across the River there are stairs very much like the ones you descended from Erl’s. But whereas that one and the collapsed elevator shaft that runs parallel to it once provided access to a research facility devoted to the study of the Cubes—useless, as it turned out—this one climbs to what was once a garden.”

  Danyl blinked. “A garden?”

  “Once,” Yvelle said. “But it’s not there any longer. Now it’s a . . . nest, I suppose you’d call it. For the Rim Guardians.” She reached into her pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper, which she handed to Chrima. “I went over these instructions with Chrima before you even reached the Net,” she said. “She’ll brief you once you get to the other side of the River.”

  “You want us to climb up half a kilometer of stairs just to end up inside a Rim Guardian nest?” Danyl pointed at the beamer rifle—his beamer rifle—which Chrima still wore slung over her back. “She might as well shoot us now and save time!”

  “Prime’s instructions can get you across the Rim safely if you time it right,” Chrima said. She held up the folded paper, then tucked it into her own pocket. “Supposedly.”

  “Time it right? What does that mean?”

  “You have to reach the nest at precisely 1000,” Chrima said. “There are two shifts of Guardians. Prime says that’s when Shift One transitions to Shift Two and enters the nest for recharging. For five minutes, both shifts are out of the nest, exchanging data. If you enter the nest during those minutes, you can initiate maintenance protocols that will open up a safe passage out of the Rim, through a gate, and into the Heartland.”