Kingdom of Cages

by Sarah Zettel

  “Of course you go along with it,” said Sadia. “What else is there?”

  “Yeah, but if you’re going after it right, you don’t have to have somebody always watching you. You can get some movement back.”

  Nothing showed in Sadia’s face. She studied Chena for a moment as if Chena were some stranger. Then her gaze wandered back to the fake marsh on the walls.

  “Sadia.” Chena leaned forward, feeling cold fear form in her stomach. “I’m telling you I can help you get out of here, out of involuntary.”

  Sadia nodded without turning her attention back to Chena. “Okay.”

  The fear in Chena grew heavier. “You do want to get out of here, don’t you?”

  Sadia moved her head toward Chena again, and that was almost worse, because nothing had changed. Her eyes remained dead, blank and empty. “If that’s what you want me to do.”

  Stunned disbelief fell into place beside fear. Chena felt her jaw hanging loose. “What did they do to you?”

  Still, no sign of comprehension crossed Sadia’s face. “Take samples,” she said, apparently taking Chena’s comment literally. “Put stuff inside me sometimes.”

  Before Chena could stop herself, she looked down at Sadia’s stomach. It pooched out a little more than she thought she remembered. Was there something inside Sadia now? Was it like whatever was inside Mom?

  Is Mom going to end up like this?

  Chena jumped to her feet. “I have to go.”

  “Okay,” said Sadia behind her. But this time Chena was the one who did not look back. She just rushed out the door. The arrow waited for her on the hallway floor. She walked fast, trying not to run. She had to get back. She had to find Mom. She had to let Mom know what had happened to Sadia. Mom had to do something. They had to get out of here now. They had to get that thing out from inside her before it took her mind away, or before Aleph and its keepers decided that her mind should be taken away from her. Maybe that was what they did to Sadia. Maybe she fought too hard, so they’d drugged her or something. They did something to her.

  Got to warn Mom. Chena’s efforts to hold her stride in check brought a haze of tears to her eyes. She could not alert Aleph. She must not alert Aleph.

  The foyer passed by in a blur of green and brick red. She was in the labyrinth before she remembered to get her bearings, and she had to follow the signs to get back to their alcoves.

  She probably won’t even be there. She’s out doing whatever it is they give her to do. But I’ll look there first. Then I can look somewhere else. I can tell the counselor I’m having an emergency. I can…

  She pushed aside their curtain. She noted absently that Mom or Teal had changed the walls to an abstract wallpaper, all red splotches. But then she saw the pattern was on the back of the curtain too.

  Then the smell reached her, a sharp smell, all acid and copper, and she saw red on the floor—deep, shining rivulets of red, snaking across the tiles.

  Then she saw Mom, sprawled like a doll at the center of a pool of red, with more red, more blood, too much blood, puddled in her slashed and deflated belly. Her still eyes looked up at Chena, pleading.

  Chena ran forward, ignoring the blood and the way it squished under her shoes. She grabbed Mom’s hand, not thinking, not knowing what she could possibly do. The hand was cold and limp, and as still as her eyes.

  Chena screamed. She couldn’t help it. She dropped the dead hand and backed away, her hands raised up to her ears. She screamed and screamed again, high and wordless, terrified of what she saw in front of her. She screamed as if she could call her mother back to take away this hideous thing and be alive again.

  The curtain flew open to let in hands, people, voices, exclamations of shock and disgust. Someone pulled Chena back and away, and handed her to someone else. But she couldn’t see anything clearly except the red, and Mom.

  “All right, Chena. All right.” Someone dropped to her knees in front of her and grasped her chin, pulling her eyes away from Mom. Abdei. This was Abdei, and around her were men, looking at Mom, looking at the blood, talking among themselves too fast to be understood.

  “Who did it?” gasped Chena. The nearest man, the constable or supervisor, or whatever he was, just stared at her. “Who did it?” she repeated. “Aleph must have seen. Who did this?”

  “Chena, we don’t know,” said Abdei, holding Chena by both shoulders.

  “Don’t know!” Chena yanked herself backward. “You guys watch everything. How could you not have seen this?” She looked from one to the other of them, taking in their pinched, frightened faces. Realization sank in slowly. “It screwed up, didn’t it? That omnipotent computer of yours. It watched every single second of our lives, but it didn’t see who killed my mother!”

  “We will find out what happened,” Abdei said firmly. “I promise you, Chena—”

  “Where’s Teal?” demanded Chena.

  “Chena—”

  “What’s happening?”

  Teal. Chena wrenched herself out of Abdei’s hands and hurled herself toward the doorway. She slammed into Teal and wrapped her arms around her sister, shielding Teal with her body.

  “We’re getting out of here,” she said as Teal’s mouth opened. “Right now.”

  “Chena, with your mother gone, you are—”

  “Our grandmother is in Offshoot,” she said.

  “Gone!” shouted Teal. “Where’s Mom gone? Chena!” She wriggled in Chena’s hands. Chena clamped down more tightly. “Ow!”

  “You don’t have any relatives in Offshoot, Chena,” said Abdei. “Don’t try to lie to me.”

  “We do!” Chena shouted back. “Elle Stepka.” She had turned that name over in her mind at night a hundred times, wondering how she could use it or when she might need it. “You can check. We belong to her now. You can’t keep us here!”

  “Stop squeezing me!” squealed Teal.

  Teal ripped herself out of Chena’s hands. She saw the blood, and she saw Mom behind the screen of men’s bodies. Teal stood there for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, like she was trying to chew on something. Then both hands rose slowly to cover her mouth and she stumbled backward. Chena caught her, tuned her around, and hugged her close.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to our grandmother’s.” She glowered at Abdei. “We’re minors. If we’ve got a living relative, they have the body right to us.”

  “It’s true.” One of the men stepped away from the others. Chena’s head cleared enough to recognize Administrator Tam. “Their grandmother is Elle Stepka. They need to go back to Offshoot at once.”

  “Administator—” began Abdei.

  “At once,” snapped Administrator Tam. Relief made Chena weak in the knees.

  Abdei’s gaze skittered over to the constables, or whatever they were, and then back to Administrator Tam. Something that Chena couldn’t read passed between them.

  “Come with me.” Abdei tried to steer them toward the door. Chena didn’t budge or take her arms from around Teal. Teal was shuddering now, but not crying. She just pressed her face against Chena’s shoulder and shook.

  “You’ve got no right to take us anywhere,” said Chena. “No right!” She looked up, pleading to the administrator, their only ally. What did he know? What did he believe? She didn’t know how to lie to him because she didn’t know anything about him. They hadn’t seen him since their first day.

  “To the next alcove, that’s all, I swear,” said Abdei, taking firmer hold of Chena’s shoulder.

  “It’s all right, Chena.” Administrator Tam reached out a hand as if to touch her, but he hesitated and let it fall. “It is just to the next alcove.”

  Chena shook Abdei off. “We can get there on our own.”

  Not letting go of Teal, she walked through the curtain, into the corridor, and over into the next set of alcoves. This was somebody’s home, she knew, but they weren’t there now. Nobody seemed to be here. They’d all been spi
rited away by Aleph or another of the hothousers’ tricks.

  “I’m going to ask you not to leave,” said Abdei.

  “We’re not going anywhere except back to Offshoot,” said Chena, sitting Teal down on one of the low benches. Teal looked gray. Her mouth stayed shut now, but there was a blank look behind her eyes that reminded Chena too much of Sadia.

  “I have to verify what you’re saying.” Abdei sounded tired, and closer to angry than Chena had ever heard her.

  “The administrator told you—”

  “This is not for you to say!” Abdei shouted, and then she reeled as if knocked sideways by the force of her own words.

  “Why can’t you just ask Aleph? Aleph knows everything.” Then she bit her lip. Aleph might know this was a lie. How had Elle fixed it? Maybe Administrator Tam had done it for her? Chena didn’t know, but they had to get out, they had to, and she couldn’t open the outside door yet.

  “Aleph is not here,” said Abdei shortly. “Stay here. I will find out about your… grandmother.”

  She left them there. Chena sat down next to Teal, hard. Aleph wasn’t there? Someone had taken down the computer? How far down was it? Could she and Teal get to the door? Could they run away into the marsh, maybe find the bike rails and follow them back to Offshoot? Or Stem? Farin would help them, she knew he would.

  “Chena, we’ve got to get a message to Dad,” said Teal suddenly.

  “What?”

  “We’ve got to!” Teal clutched her arm, her eyes wide with terror. “We’ve got to tell him to come get us. He’ll come back. He has to.”

  Chena’s hands fell to her lap. “We can’t get a message to him, Teal,” she whispered. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “But we can find out,” she persisted. “We can get a message up to Athena Station. There are Authority shippers there. We can ask one of them to get a message through.”

  Chena licked her lips. What was the matter with her? Was she so far gone she couldn’t tell what their game was anymore? “They wouldn’t even know where to start looking for him,” she said lamely. “He could be anywhere.”

  Teal looked up at her and now Chena saw the tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “Please, Chena. Find Dad.”

  “I can’t.” Chena felt her own eyes prickle. Stop it. Stop it, she ordered herself. You can’t start that now, you’ll never stop.

  Teal leaned back against Chena’s shoulder and cried. Chena held her, choking back her own sobs, trying not to see Mom’s eyes staring at her, asking Chena where she had been while someone had ripped her mother’s guts out, asking her to do something when there was nothing to be done except get Teal out of here.

  The curtain drew back and Abdei, her mouth pressed into a thin line, walked through.

  “I’ve confirmed your grandmother,” she said, biting off the words as if she did not want to believe them. But she didn’t challenge it. She was a good hothouser. She would do what she was told. A fresh rush of relief washed through Chena.

  “We’ll take you to her,” said Abdei before Chena could say anything.

  “Thank you.” Chena shook Teal’s shoulders. “Come on, Teal. We’re going.”

  Abdei was as good as her word. She walked them out of the hot-house to the dirigible. Chena kept her arm around Teal the entire time, even when they walked from the dirigible to the waiting riverboat. Teal wiped at her eyes and nose occasionally, but she said nothing. Chena wasn’t even sure she knew what was going on.

  It was evening outside and they glided past the grasslands, empty except for the deer and birds. When the trees, green with their late summer leaves, finally enclosed them, Chena felt a sense of relief and safety she’d never expected. They were almost home. They were almost free of the hothouse. Everything else would follow.

  Abdei walked them off the boat. Around them, all the village traffic stopped so everyone could stand and stare. After all, it wasn’t every day somebody came back from the hothouse.

  “Where is your grandmother?” Abdei asked.

  Chena swallowed. What would Nan Elle say when she saw them? With a hothouser? But she could think of no way to make Abdei leave. So, taking Teal’s limp, cold hand, Chena led her sister and Abdei up the catwalks to the top of the village.

  There was no line in front of the door, thankfully. Chena bit her lip and knocked.

  After a moment, shuffling and bumping sounded from inside. The door opened. Nan Elle hunched, blinking, in the threshold. She looked from Chena to Teal to Abdei.

  “Chena, Granddaughter!” she exclaimed, enfolding Chena in her strong, skinny arms. Chena made herself hug the old woman back. “Has anything happened?”

  “Your daughter has died,” said Abdei, looking hard at Elle, watching for her reaction. Chena also gave her a hard stare. Don’t let us down. You promised.

  Nan Elle covered her mouth with her wrinkled hand. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, my poor girl. All my poor girls.” She folded Chena into her arms again. “Thank you for bringing them home, Aunt.”

  Abdei’s jaw worked back and forth a few times, but her face softened. She was beginning to really believe. “We will need to talk to them, and you, when you’ve had time to adjust.”

  “Of course, of course.” Nan Elle nodded rapidly, shrinking in on herself. “Anytime I am needed.”

  Chena almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Nan Elle frightened? It was one more impossibility in an impossible day, but of course Nan Elle was a liar. Everyone in this world was a liar.

  Abdei’s face still retained a trace of its bitterness, and her eyes grew distant, as if she were listening to some private voice. For a moment Chena thought she was going to actually question what was going on. But she didn’t. She just frowned more deeply.

  “I’ll leave you to look after your granddaughters.” With that, she turned in the threshold. The door swung shut behind her of its own accord and Chena and Teal were alone with Nan Elle. Chena tightened her grip on Teal’s shoulder as the old woman regarded them.

  “What happened?” Nan Elle asked. “Is your mother really dead?”

  Chena nodded. “They cut her open. They…” The strength that had kept her steady until now failed suddenly, and Chena broke down into tears. Nan Elle did not move to comfort or quiet her. She just stood there while Chena, with her arms still hugging Teal, sobbed herself dry.

  When she finally was able to wipe her eyes clear, she saw that Nan Elle had stooped even further in on herself. This time Chena sensed the uneasiness was no act.

  “Sit.” Nan Elle gestured them toward her benches while she went to the stove and poured mugs of something steaming out of a pot and carried the mugs to the girls. Chena drank because she was suddenly dying of thirst. Mint tea. The stuff Mom said she’d learn to put up with the morning she found coffee was illegal on Pandora, along with tea and refined sugar. Chena choked on her swallow of liquid and set the mug down. Teal picked her mug up in both hands and drank and drank, as if she were going to drain the mug in one gulp.

  Nan Elle sat in her high-backed chair and folded both hands on top of her stick. “Well, I suppose we now need to work out what should be done with you.”

  “We’ll do anything you say,” said Chena. “Just don’t make us go back there.”

  “Can you find our dad?” asked Teal suddenly.

  Chena froze. Nan Elle’s eyes flickered from Chena to Teal. “No,” she said. “Not at this time. The best I can do is give you somewhere to stay and something useful to do. In time, perhaps, I can help you understand what has happened to your mother, and to you.”

  “Yes,” said Chena. It would do. For now. Once they understood what had happened, they could do something about it. They could find the ones responsible and make them pay. They could destroy Aleph and all its people. For Mom, and for Sadia, and for Teal, and for herself, for everything she felt right now, all the fear and anger and the deep sick pain. The hothousers would all pay for this.

  Nan Elle’s sharp eyes watched her
closely. “Be careful,” she said to Chena. “You have no idea what you are up against.”

  “Not yet,” said Chena. “But I will.”

  Tam would never have believed it was possible to stand in front of his family and feel so much anger. As stunted as his Conscience was, these were all the people who filled his life. They sat with him, arrayed on the tiers of the meeting amphitheater, their faces grave. Even the Senior Committee and Father Mihran looked frightened. All of them were excruciatingly aware that something huge, inexplicable, and irreversible had happened, and that it might even bring down the sword that the Authority had hung over Pandora.

  And one of you did this. One of them had committed murder and gotten away with it. He searched the faces on the first tier and found Dionte. She sat, placid and attentive, with the other guardians, listening to Tender Cartes, who stood at the theater’s center describing how none of the subsystems had been interfered with and none of the alarms, electronic or biological, had been severed.

  Everyone listened intently. Everyone wanted to know what had actually happened and how it had happened. Not because Helice Trust was murdered, although all would have said that was tragic, but because the project had not been found. Anywhere. It was most certainly not still inside Helice, but it was not anywhere inside the Alpha Complex either. Their one success, the one fetus that was going to come to term without adversely affecting the mother, was gone. Every square centimeter of the complex had already been turned over, by Aleph, and by Aleph’s tenders. The Eden Project was set back by years, and the hope for a peaceful, unchanging Pandora hung by a thread. Tam knew that every mind in the amphitheater carried the image of a mushroom cloud of dust and ash.

  And there sat Dionte, his sister by both birth and branch. She sat next to Basante, whispering in his ear while she stroked his hand display. What was she doing there? What was she telling him?

  Tam smelled aloe and remembered her as a little girl, playing tag with their cousins. He remembered being a little envious when she got to stay with their mother and he got taken off by their birth uncle Laplace for tutoring. However, when the complexes were first built it had been determined that the importance of the uncle-son relationship would be reestablished here, and of course the first families knew best. Wasn’t his Conscience’s ceaseless voice telling him so right now? His carefully truncated Conscience.