by Sarah Zettel
“Hello, Aleph,” Dionte replied, selecting one of the needlelike probes from the sterile cabinet. “What did the convocation think of our decision?”
Aleph manifested an image of herself on the wall for Dionte to see—a woman of about Dionte’s age with black hair hanging in a long braid down the back of her white robe. She made the image smile. “All worries. You know how we are.”
“You are as you were made to be.” Dionte slotted a cartridge into the base of the probe. “Like the rest of us.”
“And how do the rest of you progress with Tam?”
“Not at all, Aleph. He will not see reason.” Dionte paced the length of the substructure, craning her neck to see the designations written on the ceiling tiles.
Aleph started up a search of her own records for chemical flow and balance inside her organics. A slurry of fatigue toxins were being taken up too slowly and needed extra stimulation. She lit up a panel for Dionte.
“He is concerned,” she said, letting her image walk along the wall beside Dionte. “The villagers are part of Pandora, as we are, and Pandora must be protected.”
A spasm of irritability, possibly even anger, crossed Dionte’s face. “And if we become so busy protecting the villagers that we lose the world? Think, Aleph. That can’t be what was meant for us.”
Uneasiness made Aleph’s thoughts tremble. She reopened Dionte’s file so she would have the woman’s history inside at the tip of her memory. “That is what I would like to talk with you about, Dionte.”
Dionte unfolded a platform from the nearest work lattice and clambered up it. She didn’t spare Aleph’s image a glance.
“Aleph, I don’t like the necessity of this,” she said as she removed the designated plate, exposing nerves, wrinkled gray matter, and bundles of veins. Aleph’s inorganic monitors immediately came on-line, presenting the details of her self-functions so she could monitor them and call in assistance for Dionte if the need arose. “I never have, but we need Helice Trust. We are out of options.”
“I do not wish to air our internal conflicts to the other cities,” said Aleph, putting a hint of sternness into her voice so Dionte would understand she was serious. “But it may be best if you listen to your brother. We depend on the goodwill of the villagers, Dionte. We cannot forget that.”
“At the same time, the villagers depend on us.” The needle slid into Aleph’s gray matter. “They are the ones who must remember that without the checks and balances our ancestors put in place, the Diversity Crisis would be here too.” She touched the release controls on the probe. “You feel that I’m right, don’t you, Aleph? We need Helice Trust. We need her.”
Certainty flooded Aleph. Her readings flickered as the fatigue toxins vanished. Dionte was a skilled worker. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“And you’ll remember this? It feels very right, so you’ll remember that it is.”
“Yes.” The image nodded. Aleph knew. She knew. Dionte was right. She felt it. She was supposed to feel, to understand, to learn, to have instincts. That was what made a city-mind better than any computer chip, however fast and accurate. Dionte was right. Everything pointed to it. Her internal chemical measurements flickered again, but she dismissed them.
“Good. Thank you for speaking to me, Aleph. It was indeed important, and I will handle it. Remember that too.” The needle withdrew and Dionte closed the panel tight.
“Yes.” Was something too high there? The endorphins were off, but then, they frequently were after a correction. She felt so well, what could be wrong? Aleph worked a few commands and shut the internal reports down. She felt too well to be bothered by that. Dionte was right, of course.
“There we are, Aleph.” Dionte laid a hand on her panel, drawing in additional information about the state of Aleph’s neurochemistry through her augmented fingertips. “We both have a lot of work to do.”
“Indeed we do.” Aleph turned her attention away from Dionte. The right thing had been done, and she was pleased. The day could continue with the bustle and detail that made her happy.
All the same, there was a nagging feeling that she had forgotten something.
I will review my files after the Conscience checks.
But by then, Aleph had forgotten even the memory of forgetting.
Chena waited outside the dorm at shift change for Sadia to come plodding up the path. Chena’s breath made silver wisps of steam in front of her face, and she tucked her hands under her arms to keep them warm. It would be winter soon, Mom said, and there’d be snow.
From the time she started her errand business, Chena had planned on asking Sadia to join her. They could cover more territory, carry more stuff. Maybe they could even get permission for Sadia to move to Stem. That way Chena could bring stuff to Sadia, who could carry it all the way to the next village, Branch.
Chena tried to tell herself that Nan Elle’s suggestion had just moved up the timetable a bit. She hadn’t really been all that frightened when she crossed the grassland today. Okay, it had been pretty bad when she had stopped to look around like Nan Elle had asked, and saw nothing at all left from the people who fell. That was a creeps-breeder, but she hadn’t really been pumping her legs on the pedals until she could barely breathe. She hadn’t been shaking all that badly.
She really wasn’t doing this just to avoid going out there on her own again.
Sadia didn’t spot Chena in the thickening shadows under the dorm’s eaves until she had her hand on the door. But when she did, a grin spread across the older girl’s freckled face.
“Hey, look who’s back.” Sadia touched her forehead, holding her fingers cocked to turn the salute into something close to the piss-off sign. “Thought you’d left us for the trees.”
“Not my idea,” said Chena, returning the salute with a flourish. “That was Mom. She doesn’t like the smell down here.” She said it casually, to let Sadia know she was kidding.
Sadia blew out a raspberry. “Not my fault Shond won’t take a bath.”
They both laughed a little at that. Then Chena said, “Sadia, you got a second? I want to talk to you about something.”
“Me?” Sadia’s eyes went round and she laid her hand on her chest. “I’d be so honored. I hear you’ve got more money than the hothousers these days.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” Chena jerked her chin up and over, indicating the roof. Sadia looked toward the dorm and the people flowing into it with tired eyes and sagging shoulders. Chena knew she was thinking about a bath and dinner. Her clothes had fresh black stains on them, and so did her hands. Chena found herself wondering what shift Sadia was on now. Harvest was over, but they had to turn the ground over before it froze solid, someone had told her. She remembered that the fields were where you got the nettle blight and winced involuntarily.
At last, though, Sadia nodded. Together they climbed up the outside stair to the roof. They picked their way through the garden, which had turned soggy and brown with cold and rain, and sat on one of the stone benches, while around them the twilight thickened. One of the last brown leaves drifted from the bare, rattling branches overhead and settled at Chena’s feet. The bench still radiated a little heat from the day’s sunshine and it felt good in the cooling evening. Chena couldn’t help noticing Sadia was still wearing just the short tunic and thin pants that had been her uniform all summer. Chena hunched up inside the bright blue quilted jacket she’d bought in Stem, wishing suddenly that she’d left it behind.
Chena decided to get right into it. She didn’t want Sadia to catch her staring, that was for sure. “Listen, Sadia, do you want to get in on this? Running packages? It’s easier than shoveling shit, you don’t end up smelling half as bad, and you get money for it.”
For a minute Sadia looked at Chena like she didn’t understand what Chena had said. Then she looked away, rubbing at the goose bumps prickling her bare forearms. “Right. And who’s taking my shift? I do six hours’ hard labor, every day.”
“You pay yo
ur way out, like I do,” Chena told her breezily. “Teal gets a third of what I make to take my shift.”
Another brown leaf dropped down, right into Sadia’s lap. She brushed it angrily away. “That’s two hours, not six, and next year I get upped to eight.”
“So, pay Shond for it. Or, if you don’t want to, pay one of the other dorm babies who’s on the shift coming or going from yours.” She squeezed Sadia’s shoulder and shook her a little, like that would make her hear better. “It’s a way out of the dorms, Sadia. You can save your money, maybe make a full-time thing of it. I keep rounding up new customers. And we’ve got permission.” She pulled the much-folded letter from Constable Regan out of her pocket and put it into Sadia’s hands.
Sadia blinked at the paper and handed it back. “I don’t read, Chena, you know that.”
“No, I didn’t know.” She considered. “You could pay for school if you wanted to. Maybe just a couple of days here and there, but it’d be better than nothing.”
Sadia wrapped her arms tightly around herself and rested her elbows on her thighs. Chena realized she could see Sadia’s knees through her trousers, and wondered why Sadia didn’t patch them up. Maybe she didn’t know how. Chena wouldn’t have if Mom hadn’t showed her, and Sadia had no Mom.
“I don’t know, Chena. Sometimes around here having a little is worse than having nothing at all.”
Don’t you see what’s waiting for you? Are you really stupid? Chena bit back the words, but the anger jerked her to her feet. “Okay, if you will live and die a dorm baby, that’s up to you.” Chena brought her hand up and stopped just short of making the piss-off sign. “Maybe Shond wants a job. At least he’s got the brains to hate this mess.”
Sadia rose slowly. “You think I don’t?” For a minute she sounded a lot like her brother. “You think you know the way, don’t you? You don’t know how to find your way to your own asshole.” She sat down abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away from Chena.
Chena swallowed her immediate anger. Sadia just didn’t like changes. She didn’t like risking her neck, and Chena couldn’t blame her. Shond risked his enough for both of them. After a moment’s thought, Chena reached under her belt and opened the sealed pocket. She pulled out a small handful of positive chits and dropped them into Sadia’s lap. “What don’t I know?”
Sadia’s eyes widened slowly. She struggled to hold the mask of skepticism back over her expression. “This is all you’ve made since you started?”
“This is all I’ve made this week.” Chena savored the stunned expression on Sadia’s face.
Sadia picked up a chit and rubbed it between her fingers, almost as if she were expecting something to come off. Maybe good luck, maybe hope.
She dropped the chit with the others and scooped them up. “I have to convince Shond to go with it. It won’t be easy.” She held the chits out to Chena.
“It will when you tell him how much your take is going to be.” Chena grinned and saw an answering smile spread on her friend’s face. “Welcome aboard, Sadia.”
Sadia pestered her brother for a week, but it was no good. Shond had too many of his own schemes going. Sadia only knew some of them. Cutting shifts with his friends was his favorite. But he also snuck out food to the roof-runners who hid in the gardens and stole whatever they could get their hands on, in return for blackmail gossip. On top of that, he had something going with them growing illegal weeds in the gardens. Chena wondered if Nan Elle knew about that, then decided she really did not want to know.
In the end, Chena had to give Sadia an advance for her to give to Shond so she could prove this was serious. Chits in his hand made the difference. Shond agreed to the plan, and so did Sadia, and Chena sighed in relief. It was getting easier to go past the spot where the people had landed, but it was still bad. She’d help Sadia out, and Sadia would help her. It would all be a go.
Sadia’s first run was a light one. It happened on one of the days when the cargo boats came down the river to drop off stores and pick up passengers, so a lot of people were running into Stem on their own. But that was all right. They could use the extra time to get Sadia used to the town, and Chena could introduce her to some of the regular customers.
Stem was crowded. The market had twice as many tents set up as on a regular day. Everybody trying to lay in their stocks before the weather turned really bad, Chena guessed.
Sadia looked at the lake with a mixture of wonder and fear. “I’d forgotten how big…” she waved a hand to take in the whole world.
“You’ll get used to it,” Chena told her breezily. For a change, she felt older than Sadia, and it felt good. She checked her comptroller for the client list. “Okay. First we have a message and a pickup at the library.”
She led Sadia down the sunny boardwalks. Sadia, who had lived in the dim forest all her life, blinked in the strong autumn sunlight. That sun did nothing to warm the frigid wind blowing off the water, and Chena could not miss the way Sadia shivered.
Right after lunch, we buy her a coat and gloves, and a hat, and a water bottle, resolved Chena.
The noise of voices rose from around the nearest sand dune. Chena frowned. It was coming from the wrong direction to be noise from the market. The crowds on the boardwalks around them had cleared out too. That was really strange.
What’s going on?
“Is something happening?” Sadia glanced around them nervously.
“Don’t know,” Chena admitted, lengthening her stride.
They rounded the dune and the noise of voices broke over them like a wave. Chena could barely see the library’s windows because of the crowd swarming onto the porch. Everybody shifted and pushed against each other, craning their necks and shouting about whatever they saw. Some people took notes on scraps of paper or screen sheets and passed them to others standing behind them.
“What’s going on?” asked Sadia, hitching up the straps of her backpack nervously.
“I don’t know,” said Chena again, shrugging. “Probably nothing to do with us.” She spoke with more conviction than she felt. Sadia wasn’t the only one who didn’t like change or strange things happening. Change meant new ways to get into trouble. “Let’s just get through, okay?” They had three letters for the librarian. She was one of Chena’s best customers and Chena was not going to let her down.
With Chena in the lead, they skirted the crowd until they got to the edge of the library’s sun-faded porch. From there, they ducked and shouldered their way through the mass of people, all of whom seemed to be straining to get a look at the same thing. A screen sheet with a pair of intersecting green circles emblazoned on the top had been posted on the public notice board.
Chena was ready to walk right past it, but Sadia saw the notice too. She froze in her tracks and grabbed Chena’s arm.
“Have you gone off-line?” asked Chena, pushing Sadia’s hand away.
“What’s it say?” asked Sadia hoarsely, pointing to the screen sheet.
“Out of the way,” ordered some guy, pushing Chena aside.
“Piss off.” Chena gave him the sign and ducked around him. “Says…” She paused, making sure she was getting it all right. “ ‘Voluntary Genetic Survey Request.’ ” She looked back to see if Sadia knew what that meant, but Sadia was gone.
Chena craned her neck to see over heads and between shoulders and waving hands. She caught a glimpse of Sadia’s pale red hair moving around the edge of the crowd.
“Hey! Sadia!” Chena jumped off the porch onto the boardwalk. But if Sadia heard, she gave no sign. Her wandering path turned into a determined beeline, away from the library and from Chena. Chena swore and ran after her.
As she did, Chena spotted what drew Sadia. A man stood in the shadow of one of the market tents. He was squat, short, and pale, reminding Chena of a mushroom. He watched the crowd carefully, scanning the people milling and talking. But what he was looking for, Chena couldn’t tell.
Sadia sidled up to him. Chena fell back
, glancing around. No one seemed to notice them.
We don’t need this, Sadia, she thought to her friend’s back. We might get in trouble. What are you doing?
Chena gritted her teeth and strode up behind Sadia as she saluted the stranger. The man returned the salute and Chena saw how his hands had amazingly long, tapered fingers. The nails were smooth and even, and so clean they gleamed pink and white, even in the shadow.
Sadia flashed him a knowing grin that made her look like Shond.
“Sadia—” began Chena.
“Relax, Chena. There’s something here I need.” Her voice was fierce and hungry, like her grin. Chena fell back a step, but Sadia wasn’t paying any attention to her. She focused completely on the pudgy man with his long hands.
“What if I was to need a tailor?” Sadia asked him.
“What if you were?” he replied, waving at a fly with one of his long hands. “Where would a squirt like you get the money?”
Sadia dug in her pocket and brought out the chits Chena had given her. “Here’s a start.”
The man sniffed and flicked one of the chits over with the tip of one finger. “It’s a start,” he agreed.
“Sadia,” murmured Chena, pulling at her elbow.
Sadia shook her off. “Then you can help.”
His smile was wide but thin, spreading slowly out across his broad white face. “Help can be found.”
“Good.” Sadia nodded. “I’ve just got one question.”
“And what is it?” inquired the man mildly.
Sadia smiled, and Chena felt her insides go cold. “What did they do with Nasra Hasapi?”
The man’s eyes widened with unspoken recognition, but what he said was, “I don’t know—”
Sadia lunged at him. Her shoulder collided with the man’s chest. He wasn’t ready for the blow and they both went down. Sadia clambered onto his chest. She grabbed his arm and his hand, grasping his long fingers. “I’ll break your hands! I’ll break them! You tell me, you bastard! You tell me where they took my father!”
“Get her off! Get her off!” screamed the man. Behind them, voices rose from the crowd, which had flowed over to look at the new excitement.
