by Sean Platt
That, at least, York remembered. “Someone is after me,” he said.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why then? Is it because of the stuff in your diary? Is that why you were locked down, or whatever it was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know someone is after you?”
“Leo, I don’t know.”
“But you do know. I can see it. You came back here to hide, so at least part of you knows something. Somehow. Even though you don’t know how you know, you have an impression, don’t you?”
York exhaled through his nose, feeling the trimmed hairs in his gray beard tickle his lip as he vented full-body exasperation. Most of his knowledge about himself had come from a book he didn’t recall writing. He knew how to use his body to get around. He knew who Leo, Leah, and Dominic were, as well as the other Organas he’d gotten to know during his time as Crumb. He knew, somehow, that someone was after him. But beyond that, he knew almost nothing, including where his fear of pursuit had come from or what it meant — all of it a twisted knife of frustration.
York pressed searching fingers into his mind’s soup. The feeling was still a thick gray fog. He felt like he was stumbling forward with his hands out, groping for his future, unable to see either forward or behind. He was a man in a capsule. He’d worked with West. He’d conducted ominous studies on Lunis that he didn’t recall. There had been a powerful group called Panel, and one of his strongest feelings about that Panel was resentment — but exactly what he’d once resented was unavailable. Childhood memories pocked the fog in a random pattern, useless. He was the Beam’s father but could barely tie his shoes.
“The vaguest of impressions, yes,” York replied, shaking his head. “But it seems we both have things on our minds that aren’t worth discussing.”
“Serenity couldn’t help you to remember anything?”
“She tried. But no.”
“Have you asked her about herself? Have you asked her why she looks like Leah?” Leo’s inquiries were all over the place. He had some of his wits, but so many were missing. His questions were almost like whistling in the dark, forcing any kind of conversation so he wouldn’t have to be alone in the waiting quiet.
“Why she looks like Leah to you,” said York. “She doesn’t at all to me.”
“Does that say something about me, do you think, or about Leah and Serenity?”
“Serenity seems to think she’s part of Leah. She has impressions about The Beam — and particularly something Leah once did inside of it that led to what she thinks of as her own ‘birth’ — that sound more like religion than anything I seem to remember working on. She says that Leah is like a sister. As to the rest?” He shrugged.
“Is she human?” Then he seemed to decide this required clarification. “Serenity, not Leah.”
“I don’t know.”
“And her students? Those kids at her school?”
“I don’t know, Leo. I don’t know any of it. I can’t figure myself out, so I haven’t been trying to figure her out. Okay? I’m sorry, but I don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”
Leo looked disappointed. “Oh.”
York sighed. It seemed like a natural place in the not-quite-a-conversation to stand and excuse himself to handle the errand he still needed to handle, but Leo looked positively lost. More: He looked sad. York’s problems had a different flavor than Leo’s, but he knew how it felt to struggle with himself — with an enemy he could neither escape nor evade. He was in the village to hide from whoever was after him but couldn’t hide from the black hole in his mind where so many details should be. He could sympathize with what Leo must be feeling. They were both looking for something that wasn’t there.
“Leo,” he said, relaxing his body in the chair to show Leo he wasn’t going anywhere just yet. “I know it must be odd for you to talk to me now. I’m a stranger, but I’m still familiar. It’s the same for me. I know you very well on one level, but it’s like I never saw who you really were until now. I have to take a step back, blink a few times, and look at what’s around me with fresh eyes to truly see things. You should do the same.”
“Regarding you?”
“Regarding everything. You may feel like you’re in a pit, but I’d trade lives with you in a second. It’s not just my lost memory or this sense of pursuit, either. I helped to father the modern age, but I spent my life in a lab. You’ve actually lived a life. In many ways, we’re on opposite sides of a fence: me making the opiate and you shunning it. At the time — according to the Steve York in that diary, anyway — it seemed only logical to do what I felt I was born to do, which meant working with the best to make things the world had never seen. But now I’m…hell, I don’t even know how old I am…but I’m an old man, and even if I’d never been blanked, I’d have had no real life to speak of or remember. What happened during my time outside of Quark’s walls? Were there people in the world other than Noah West and lab techs? I could have worked anywhere, at any time. I have nothing. No life, nothing.”
Leo was waiting, watching. He said nothing but seemed less jittery, so York continued.
“I’ve lost so many of my personal memories, but it seems there was little to lose. On the other hand, I’ve retained all of my skills. I could program something for you right here and right now — current with what was exclusive and secret in the 2060s, anyway. It’s in my blood. And I’ll tell you: If your issue here was something I was trying to program a solution for, I’d peel the problem down to its barest form. At each stage, I’d ask, ‘What’s the core issue?’ Then I’d mercilessly strip away code, not caring for the ‘beauty’ of or my own pride in what I’d written. Writing code is an art, and every art bears the artist’s signature. My signature is sparse. Glitches and problems come from deviations and bulk, so I try to stay lean. Focus on the core, trim without flinching, and the code almost writes itself.”
Leo shook his head. “I don’t see what you’re saying.”
“You’re overcomplicating the issue, Leo. What is the core problem you have in front of you?”
“We’re running out of Lunis.”
“That’s a feature. An attribute. What’s the problem beneath it?”
“Everyone is going to go into withdrawal. And then they’ll start killing each other.”
“Will they?”
“According to what you said, their brains will panic. I’ve seen footage. Panic causes stampedes. Panic causes riots. There’s no time to think when you’re panicked, so you smash and grab.”
“So the key problem is the panic?”
“Well, yes. Of course.”
“Then don’t look for ways to replenish your Lunis supply. Look for ways to assuage the panic.”
“How?”
“You’ve led this group with fairness and compassion for the duration of my coherent memory, Leo. You know these people.”
Something like realization passed Leo’s features. It was as if the seed of an idea had just begun to spark within him. “I’ve led them for longer than that.”
“Then you know what they want. You know how to push their buttons. They trust you.”
“Will trust matter when they panic?”
“I suppose that depends on what you promise.”
“Maybe you could help me,” said Leo, looking up with big eyes. “Be a co-presenter at the meeting or something. Explain about Lunis and the way it works.”
York shook his head. “Are you kidding me? I’m Crumb to these people no matter what you say. Even if they want to listen to me, they won’t be able to get their minds to do it.”
“Then just stand beside the stage and give me thumbs-ups. Let me convey what you told me to them.”
“You’ll do fine without me,” said York.
“You’re leaving?”
“Just to Bontauk.”
“Why?”
“I have some searching to do. Someone’s after me, and I can’t just sit h
ere and wait for them to arrive.”
“But you’re up here in the first place to stay off the grid,” said Leo.
“I won’t be long. But there are some things I’d like to access that I can’t do from a handheld. Quark stuff I think I can get at, and that may illuminate some of what’s going on with me, my mind, and whoever’s after me. I tried from SerenityBlue’s school, but there’s something odd about the connection there. I asked her, and she said it was ‘protected.’ I need an open connection. As a guy who spent his life in computers, the idea of putting ‘protection’ controls in place usually just means neutering options I need at my fingertips.”
“Maybe Serenity knows a thing or two about protection that you haven’t considered,” said Leo.
York had thought of that, too, but no matter how little he could recall, he still had an innovator’s curiosity driving his mental vacuum. He couldn’t just remain idle. He had to see what he could learn. He could be quick at Bontauk, using what Leah had told him and what he remembered from his time there as Crumb. He could get in and out. He would technically leave a footprint, but nobody would be able to trace him if he was quick.
“It’s fine, Leo. The bigger problem is here. With your people. You still haven’t gotten down to the core of the issue: In the end, what do they really want?”
“They want a way out, nothing more and nothing less. They won’t want empty words. I can’t just tell them what’s wrong. I need a solution to the panic.”
“But you already knew that. So what’s the solution?”
“I have an idea.” He did, too. York could see it on his face. When York had mentioned leaving a moment ago, Leo had looked almost lost without a hand to hold. It had only taken half a minute for the spark of a solution York had already seen in Leo’s eyes to bloom into something more concrete.
“Not Lunis,” said York.
“We can’t get it. No. Not Lunis.”
“So…what?” York wasn’t sure if Leo was simply following his dangling hope, frail a string as it was, or if he was actually formulating a solution. Panic needed a place to focus because its very nature was about chaos. Control chaos, and panic falls into line. It was easier said than done, but Leo now looked confident.
“I almost have it. Hang on.” Leo held up a finger, and York could see mental wheels turning.
“Is it simple?” said York.
“Oh, yes.”
Leo stood. Unlike the last time he’d risen from his chair, his movements seemed precise, his jittering gone. He moved to a table near the door, reached under it, pawed around, then smiled to himself.
“What, Leo?” said York. “What are you thinking?”
“Tell me,” said Leo. “Have you ever heard of an organization called ‘Gaia’s Hammer’?”
Chapter 4
Dominic stepped into the main green on the lower level of the mall fifteen minutes late. He’d actually arrived early (he was more eager to get his dust than he wanted to admit, and the ugly truth was that because the amount Omar promised today was small, it would, in fact, be his dust), but he’d parked his sizable frame at a Magic Dragon on the upper level and taken his time picking at some orange chicken before heading down. Omar wanted to make him jump through hoops like a dog? Fine. Fuck him; he could wait until whatever time Dominic chose to show up.
Once on the green, Dominic picked Omar out as easily as he’d have picked out a flashlight in a dark room. The dealer was dressed in another of his ostentatious suits, this one a soft shade of purple, and stood to greet Dominic with wide arms. Dominic was in no hurry, and Omar had stood while they were still far apart, so Dominic made him wait in his crucified position, trying to make him look stupid to onlookers. But of course, he knew that somehow, he was the one who looked foolish. He could feel his own annoyed expression, knowing it must look dramatic and dumb. He could feel the stiffness in his bones, the way his gut gave him a slight waddle. And here he was, walking across the open lawn to black Jesus.
In the seat at Omar’s side was his errand boy Jimmy, who had barely looked up, knuckles-deep in a box of some sort of confection. There were several similar boxes (red and white, rectangular and long) empty on the small table in front of him. The third person in the group — apparently the smuggler, whom Omar had called Katie — was a phenomenal-looking blonde with long legs and soft, flowing hair. It was entirely inappropriate of Dominic to notice her ample chest, but if he was here to meet a drug dealer to discuss dark dealings, he figured ogling tits was a minor crime to toss onto the pile.
Dominic came almost close enough for Omar to embrace him then stopped short. Omar looked momentarily hurt then dropped his arms and became all business.
“Dom,” he said, extending a hand.
Dominic stared at the hand. “Where’s my dust?”
“So loud,” said Omar. “Don’t you know how to be on the down-low?”
Dominic glanced at the woman. She was slouched down, legs straight in front rather than demurely crossed. She was eyeing him and picking something from her teeth with the corner of one of Jimmy’s spent candy boxes.
“You didn’t introduce us,” Dominic said, not bothering to look at Omar.
“Sorry, Dom.” A smile entered Omar’s voice. “Dominic, this is Katie.”
“Kate,” said the woman.
“And Katie, this is Dominic.”
Dominic extended a hand. “You can call me Dom.”
“Super,” said Kate. She took Dominic’s hand and gave it a cursory shake.
“Jimmy you know.”
Dominic and Jimmy grunted at each other. Dominic continued to stand over the blonde, suddenly realizing he must look like a vulture. There was an empty chair beside her, so he sat. The chair creaked as he lowered himself. The woman stopped picking her teeth and moved on to eyeing Dominic suspiciously. He met her gaze.
“What?” said Kate.
Dominic blinked then returned his attention to Omar, who’d cleared his throat. He saw that Omar had extended his hand. Dominic considered ignoring it again, but then saw the edge of a packet in it. Omar wasn’t trying to shake his hand. He was trying to hand off.
Dominic snatched the dust and pocketed it.
“How much?” said Dominic, reaching into his pocket.
Omar waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it. Bundle it in with tomorrow’s shipment.”
Dominic looked around. Now Omar was the one being too loud, and none too subtle.
“Should we talk in private?” said Dominic.
“We’re under a Cone of Silence here. Nobody’s hearing this.”
Dominic eyed the woman.
“You don’t need to be shy around Katie,” said Omar.
“Kate.”
“She’s got nothing on you, champ. She smuggles dust for a living. On her last run, she killed a federal inspector.”
Dominic looked at Kate.
“He tried to stick his dick in me,” said the woman.
“So your little dirty laundry doesn’t mean anything to her,” Omar continued. “And as slippery as you think I am, you feel sure that I’ve already told them everything anyway, right? Including that you’re a cop. A captain, actually.” Then Omar glanced at Kate.
Kate tossed her chin toward Dominic. “Try to pin me, and I talk about this meeting here,” she said.
“I’m not going to pin you,” said Dominic. “I’m…”
“Let’s get this all out in the open,” said Omar, cutting Dominic off. “We’ve got a bit of a problem. But more than that, our problem is just a symptom of something larger. Three larger problems, in fact.” He pointed to himself, Kate, and Dominic in turn.
“Four,” said Jimmy.
“You’re a henchman at best,” said Kate.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Jimmy retorted.
“…and a loose end in need of trimming at worst,” she finished. Then she smiled, but the grin was sideways. Predatory, like a crocodile’s. Seeing it, Dominic’s eyes flicked from Jimmy to Kate, from Kate to Jimmy t
o Omar. Something had transpired in the group before Dominic’s arrival, and whatever it was had established power in Omar’s and Kate’s corners. Dominic saw the way Omar was looking at Kate and realized something interesting: The power wasn’t just being shared by Omar and Kate; it was being shared equally, like partners. He’d never seen that from Omar.
Jimmy looked away, pouting.
“I’ve been running dust for years, but for me it’s always been another rung on the ladder. Kate? Well, let’s say that though she’s an exceptional smuggler, she’s got other aims and is eager to see them realized. And you, Dom. You been buying my dust, but it’s not dust you want. It’s solutions. If you could have the solution without having to handle the dust, all the better.”
Dominic found himself thinking of Leo, up in the mountains. The Organa leader was trying to wean off of Lunis and seemed to be managing, albeit slowly and with a fair share of pain. Leo — the old man Dominic thought of like a father and whom he’d betrayed to the NPS. Did Dominic have Leo’s breed of strength inside himself? Omar was right; he just wanted the Organa issue solved and would love to be free of Lunis’s gritty gray hold, if weaning were possible.
“Only a fool keeps hammering away at means instead of occasionally looking upstream to the ends,” Omar continued. “We could keep talking about how to improve our little threeway — getting Katie cleared back up to the moon to retrieve the rather large shipment she left behind…”
“And live to fight another day,” said Kate, a tad defensively. Her eyes took on a hawklike look, lips narrowing into something pursed and beautiful.
“That she left behind with good cause, but that she left behind nonetheless.” Omar held his hand up toward Kate. “And we could see about increasing shuttle runs, bribing the right people, and getting that machine running. Dom would get the dust where it needed to go. But to what end?”
“I can’t have an unsteady supply. You get me this shit tomorrow, and that is what we need to discuss — how to make sure this never, ever happens again.” He wanted to rub his forehead and say he was too old for this shit, but it was too on the nose.
