by Gwynn White
He smiled. This room of his had been a good little dome, but he realized he didn't want a life here anymore. If Katherine Bluff would have him, life outside would be well worth it.
Xavier stood at attention next to the King in his white-paneled throne room, as he had for the last nine years. Xavier's job didn't entail much more than that, but it gave him time to think.
King Taylor Kerr, a thin, white-haired man with penetrating grey eyes, sat on his gilt throne listening to the night court. Each night, judges from all over the city came to get the King's ruling on difficult matters. Xavier felt in awe of the old man: he could listen to a situation which seemed impossible, then calmly propose just the right solution. During court, the King wore his robes, but not his crown — which was for state functions only.
As usual, Taylor's sour-faced son Polansky sat in the hall. Polansky Kerr was in his early sixties, also white-haired. The man spent most of his days perfecting his hot air balloons at the zeppelin station, up in the Northeast Quadrant. But every night, he was back.
When the last of the judges left, that's when Polansky began. "Half the cases tonight were just symptoms of the moral decay in this city."
King Taylor leaned his elbow on the arm of his throne. "Why do you say that?"
"If we banned women from employment, there would twice as many jobs for the men. If we barred girls from school, there would be half as many schools needed. Save money on education, increase jobs."
"And have uneducated women? How would they be able to teach their sons? And how would widows survive if they had no employment?"
"They have families to support them. Or they can go outside the fence with the rest of the derelicts."
"You're wrong, Polansky. We can't have half the population illiterate. That goes against everything the Inventor King —"
"Fuck the Inventor King! You want to quote nonsense from 300 years ago, go right ahead. We've become immoral, decadent. Women running around in loose dresses, out in public, their faces showing, painted like whores. Gangs and crime families tearing up the city. We need order here —"
"We have problems, Polansky, yes. But not the problems you want to focus on." The old man shook his head slowly. "My father caused a lot of financial problems with his reign that we're still dealing with. But I have faith —"
Polansky yelled. "Bah! You and your faith in people. People are animals, and when I'm king —"
"Which I hope never happens —"
"Hah! What will you do, cut me down like a dog?"
Taylor Kerr peered at his son. "I've had advisers tell me I should have had it done when you were a boy."
"You're going to regret saying that," Polansky Kerr growled, then stormed out.
Every night was the same, but this was one of the uglier ones. That was the worst part of the job, pretending not to hear as the son shouted at his father. They seemed to disagree about every aspect of life in Bridges.
You're here to protect the Royal Family, not to judge them, he thought, not for the first time. Yet seeing Mr. Spadros again made Xavier remember the Inventor King and his rules on governmental discourse.
King Taylor went wearily to his room. The other three guards followed Xavier and the King, two standing guard outside the royal bed-chambers, Xavier and his second, Fritz Zepik, inside. They averted their eyes as the ancient King was undressed by his manservants, changed into his nightclothes, then helped into bed.
Xavier stood listening to the old man snore until he and his men were relieved by the morning shift. Rumor said there were secret passages into every room in the palace that not even the Guard knew about. They were vigilant should someone come to attack the King in his sleep. It had never happened, but Throne Guards in the royal bed-chambers was a tradition which stretched back 300 years.
The King usually woke before the morning shift arrived at 0400. At the end of the night, Xavier's back felt sore and his legs ached as he went to his office to finish his paperwork. But his position held great honor, and there was no better-paying job available. It was a good life. He was there for breakfast and dinner with his children, which was what really mattered. Soon Jack would go to his surgery apprenticeship, and Joy would begin receiving suitors.
Perhaps once the children are gone from the house I'll move to training the guards. He wouldn't need the money as much, and it would get him off his feet all the time.
As he drove his steam automobile over the gold-plated bridge to his house past the early morning horse-and-carriage delivery traffic to the island, Xavier thought of what Jack said about people wanting the old days. Xavier thought of the editorials about "mismanagement": constant price fluctuations, intermittent food shortages, the potholes. Many people were just a few paychecks away from ending up outside the fence. The King seemed like an intelligent man; why wasn't he doing something?
This new corruption scandal — the District Attorney claimed the King himself was involved. How could that be? The finest food, hundreds of servants ... could a man his age really want more?
And then Xavier considered the son. The thought of Prince Polansky Kerr becoming King someday frightened him.
Chapter Two
September 26th
Acevedo stood in front of Molly's tall, narrow house and knocked on the door. No answer.
Molly had come in every day after school and cleaned while Acevedo graded papers, read questions the students submitted, and planned the next day's class. Her grades had improved, and she seemed less tired in class.
But she hadn't been to school for two days. Today was Saturday, and this was the address in her file. He went to the window; the house was empty.
"Who are you?" An old lady stood on the porch next to him, grasping a broom as if to hit him with it.
"My apologies, madam. I'm Acevedo Spadros, Molly Bluff's teacher."
"Well, they were evicted the other night."
Acevedo stared at the woman. "Where did they go?"
"What business is that of mine?"
"You're their neighbor! The woman's husband just died! Could you not give them a room until they repaid their debts?"
"Damn poor people — let her go outside the fence with the other freeloaders." The woman turned and went inside; the lock clicked.
Acevedo stared at her door, shocked. What's happening to this city?
* * *
Acevedo didn't want to believe Katherine Bluff was taken outside, so he asked at his quadrant's hotel, their hospital, yet found no trace of them. Finally, he had no other choice. He went to the main road out of his quadrant, to the gate in the black wrought-iron fence encircling the city. The gate stood shut, rough-looking men loitering near it on the other side. Guards stopped him.
"I'm looking for a widow woman with a seventeen-year-old daughter who's disappeared. Has she come this way?"
The guard sneered. "Were they pretty? I might be able to find you ones like them — for a price."
"Have you seen them or not?"
"What business is it of yours?"
Acevedo remembered Uncle Vinny. "They owe me money. A lot of money. Maybe I should get it from you instead."
"Hold on now, I did happen to see the two you mention." He gestured to a pack of unsavory looking men who stood nearby. "Keep 'em back if they charge you."
Acevedo parked his steam automobile off to the side of the road, and the men opened the huge wrought-iron gates. The bars were as thick as his thumb. No one charged, and the guard turned to close the gate behind him. "We don't open this after dark — if you aren't back by then, you're on your own."
Acevedo didn't plan to leave until he found Molly and Katherine. He grabbed the man's arm. "You're coming with me."
"Hey now!" The man's friends beat Acevedo back, pushed him to the ground, slammed the gate shut.
Acevedo jumped to his feet, furious. "Where is she? You said you saw them!"
"They're in there, I saw them." He turned away, the group breaking into laughter.
There was
no use for it. Acevedo set off, wary people staring back at him.
* * *
After many hours walking through the tent city talking to dirty, sullen people, Acevedo felt exhausted. No one seemed to know where Katherine and Molly were. He sat on a box, dispirited, while a few small children played in the dust a few yards off. One peered up at him. "You're not looking the right way."
This was odd. "What do you mean?"
"You don't ask where someone is that way."
"How do you ask people where someone is here?"
"You say who you are and why you want them."
"I don't understand."
An old man sitting on a box of his own a few paces beyond the children said, "We don't know you. You might be a cop."
Acevedo pondered this, then nodded. "My name is Acevedo Spadros. I'm a history teacher. Molly is a student in my class. Her father just died." Did he dare say it? "I met her mother a few weeks ago ..." Heat rushed to his face at the memory of her eyes; the thought of her in this awful place made him angry. "I need to find her."
The old man smiled at Acevedo's last words. "Ahhh. Now I know who you are." He pointed to the child who spoke to me earlier. "Tell the Bluffs a friend has come."
The child skipped away from the fence, past the tents, and was gone.
Acevedo's heart began to pound. Would the child bring them here? What would the old man tell Katherine?
Twenty minutes later, the child returned. "Come with me."
Acevedo followed the child past makeshift tents, open cooking fires, dirty children playing. The days were getting chilly, and no one had enough to wear. "How long have you lived here?"
The child shrugged. "Always."
This boy couldn't be more than eight. How long had they been putting children outside the city? "How do you live? What do you eat?"
He shrugged, looking away. "Whatever the Dealers bring us. The trash trucks come all the time, but the food's not as good."
The boy turned away from the gate and went past sight of it. Then they crossed the main road from Market Center to the countryside. Ramshackle huts stood in the distance, but they turned again and went to a small lean-to. Inside sat Katherine and Molly, trying to cook noodles over an open fire.
"Mr. Spadros!" Katherine sounded mortified. "I never thought to see you here."
"Molly didn't come to school," Acevedo said, feeling at once that this wasn't a good enough reason. She'll know at once why I'm here.
"I fear I have little to give you," Katherine said. "I had to sell most of my belongings to get this humble abode." She took an old battered teapot off the coals. "However, I do have tea."
Acevedo sat on the ground beside Molly. "I would be glad to take tea with you."
When his grandson came back, the old man got up off the box and told the children, "Let's go see your Papa." The old man went past the tents to a building made of corrugated metal panels, nodding to his nephews Shuli and Wànzi standing guard as they went through the open doorway. Inside, his son sat at a workbench facing the doorway, a lamp casting light upon his work. A thin man, he had long straight black hair and a mustache to match.
His son glanced up when they entered. "Hey, Pops," the man said.
"There's an insider here. Looking for his lady friend, he says, that new widow woman and her daughter. I thought you should know."
Crispin Hartmann nodded. "Shuli! Go keep watch on the insider woman's camp."
A voice from outside said, "Okay."
Crispin poured the last of the lead, holding his breath until the fumes went away. "Got enough melted for a whole clip today."
Pops nodded. "Very good."
Three little boys came in, pushing past his children. "Mr. Hartmann! We got bullets!"
Crispin laughed. "Let's see them."
Each boy put a destroyed bullet on his desk. "Very good!" He reached back to the basket behind him, took out the last three rolls there. "One for each of you."
"Hurray!" The children grabbed the rolls and raced out, whooping with delight.
Crispin tossed the bullets into a bowl. "Come on, let's go home." He picked up a smaller basket which held a lone loaf of bread — he didn't give those out unless a child brought him ten bullets — and put this basket in the bigger one. He handed his father the baskets, picked up his tools, put them in a carrying case, and went outside. Shuli would lock up.
Crispin and Pops turned away from the fence, up the hill towards their home. His grandfather had been put outside the fence for being a drunkard, but had cleaned up after Pops was born. He built a house, and even though Grandpa was dead now, they kept building on it, making their home better every year.
Crispin didn't go straight to the house. When he had extra bread like today, Crispin would go past a few places. Old men who had helped his family, the sick. Sometimes if a woman was newly pregnant, or he knew a family with a lot of small ones. People who could use a little extra. He'd go there at random, break off a good chunk of bread, and give it to them. The gratitude was payment enough, but they always did something for him in return, one way or another.
Once the loaf was gone, he and Pops went home. The children had run ahead, and his Nana stood at the door waiting for them. "Charlie's here already. Come in and get washed up."
His younger brother Charlie sat at the table. A huge man with curly red hair — Pops said that came from their mother — he enveloped Crispin in a bear hug. "Guess what? I got the pump mechanism to work. We now got steam-powered automated running water!"
Damn, Charlie's smart. "Shoulda been an Inventor, I'm telling ya!"
Charlie laughed. "Well, maybe I am one. Who needs insider titles, anyways?"
Pops grinned and reached up to ruffle Charlie's hair. "That's my boy. Come on, help Nana with the table."
Acevedo sipped his tea in its chipped cup by Katherine's campfire and watched the shadows lengthen, desperately trying one scenario after another in his mind. Could he invite them to his home? Would that be proper? He didn't have money to put them into a hotel, except perhaps for one night. Who did he know that he could impose upon? The main thing he knew is that he couldn't stay here overnight; Katherine's reputation would be ruined if he did so. Yet he couldn't leave her. Finally, he rose. "You must come with me."
Katherine and Molly looked at each other. "Where would we go?"
"It doesn't matter. Please, you must come now — once darkness falls, I won't be able to bring you out."
Katherine looked longingly at her little lean-to, then took up a few belongings and hurried alongside him.
No one stood at the gates. Acevedo shouted, "Hey! The sun is still up. Let us out!"
A man ambled by. "Get back, you! The guards went home."
"But that's my conveyance right there! I came to get these ladies out of here. Now I want you to open this gate immediately!"
The man shrugged. "Don't have the keys, sir. Is there someone I can contact?"
Acevedo knew he'd never hear the end of it. "Vincenzo Spadros, 131 West Shill. The cross street is Snow. Tell him to hurry."
Molly disappeared behind them at a run, then after several minutes, ran back, distraught. "Ma! They've taken everything!"
Katherine took the girl in her arms, who wept on her mother's shoulder.
Acevedo turned to Katherine. "I'm so sorry. I've only made things worse." What else could I have done? "I'll get you both safe, never fear."
* * *
It was well into the night before Uncle Vinny came. "Sorry it took so long," he said, glaring at the man with the keys. "I had to twist some arms."
"Who is this man?" Katherine said.
Acevedo had given Molly his coat, and his teeth chattered. "Mrs. Bluff, may I present my uncle, Vincenzo Spadros." The huge gate swung open with a squeal.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Katherine said.
Acevedo said, "Now let's get you both out of this night air."
Mama was in a frenzy. "Where have you been? The messenger seemed s
o agitated! I was distraught with worry —" The instant she saw Katherine, she dropped the Italian, becoming the soul of graciousness. "Oh, my poor dear, come in. I'll make up rooms for you and your daughter. Let me find something for you to wear." She led them away, chattering the entire time.
Papa padded up in his robe and pajamas. "When you didn't come home I thought something happened. Didn't expect to see two more for breakfast."
"I couldn't let them stay out there," Acevedo said. "It's a junk heap, freezing outdoors. Ragged children —"
"I know, son. That Polansky Kerr might not be King yet, but he may as well be. The thugs who drag widows outside the city for not paying his falsely inflated rents are all his, as well as the ones who keep them locked out."
Acevedo knew there were derelicts out there, but children? "How did this happen? There were eight-year-olds who couldn't remember anything else!"
"It's that old King Taylor; he's not been outside his palace for decades. As far as I can tell, he spends more effort on gilding the bridges and lining his pockets than figuring out how to make sure everyone's fed."
And the fence has been there since I was a boy. "Something needs to be done," Acevedo said. "It's the end of September; winter will be here soon. It's not right to leave people in such a state." He paced around, mind reeling. "I can't keep those children from my mind." What am I to do?
Eventually, his father went to bed. Acevedo sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine, unable to sleep.
Katherine came out in a robe and sat across the table from him.
Acevedo said, "How's Molly?"
"She's sleeping. It's been a long day for her." She paused, glancing away. "A long year, really."
"Some wine?"
"No, thank you." An awkwardness lay in the air. "Sir, I wanted to thank you for your help."
"It was the least I could do. I couldn't let you stay there, it was unsafe for you both."
