“Might as well be. There’s around two people in Parole who can stand me, and the one who isn’t in this conversation is… about as off-the-grid as I am. No social circle, no footprints, no shadow. Zilch.”
“You got more than two. Stefanos loves you.”
“That big cyborg teddy-bear loves everyone.” Regan’s smile grew, thinking about huge, muscular arms—one flesh, one metal—and tight bear hugs.
“Yeah, especially me.” Jay almost giggled. “But he does, he likes you, don’t even try to pretend. And he knows about runtime and everything we do, I made sure of that when I asked him to marry me. And he still said yes,” Jay said as if that put an end to all argument. “His sister would like you too. Danae? She made Seven. At least I bet she’d be glad to know how much her therapy robo-kitty’s helped us.”
“Yeah…” Regan nodded even though Jay couldn’t see him, voice thoughtful.
“And I know you like Rowan. You hang out in the library, right?”
“More like haunt it. Lots of places to hide. But yeah, it feels safe. And quiet. Rowan’s a good… goat. They never sneak up on me—I can always hear their hooves coming.” Now he gave a quiet little laugh. “That, or knocking something off a shelf with their big-ass horns. But yeah, they’re mellow. They don’t, uh. Set me off.”
“Same! Which in this city is harder to come by than you’d think, right? And the library is pretty much the place for peace and quiet. Maybe the last place we got.”
Regan stopped walking. “What are you getting at?”
“That you’ve got people besides me. You’ve got places to go besides my little command center.”
“That’s different. The library’s a safe house. Operations base, functional.”
“Yeah—like the Emerald Bar. I can’t believe you’ve never met Evelyn Calliope! If nobody else, if you work with Garrett, you should know her.”
“No thank you.” Regan’s voice dropped, both in pitch and degree. He started moving again, shoulders hunched as if he walked against a cold wind despite the permanent smoke and heat of Parole’s night air. He didn’t have to say another word for his withdrawal to come across loud and clear.
“Hey… I just want you to have a couple more real connections.” Jay’s voice had gone uncharacteristically soft as well. “It’s a dangerous sandbox. Just ‘cause you’re invisible most of the time doesn’t mean you gotta always be that way. Won’t make it without friends.”
“I have all the friends I need. Rather keep some things between just you and me.” Regan cast another look at the sky—faster this time. Not lingering. A shiver ran up and down his spine, and he kept moving. He made himself keep talking to banish the sudden anxiety gnawing at the back of his brain. “And most nights, I don’t even think you need me. Even without my stealth and… skill set, you could be the richest man in Parole.”
“Here?” Jay snorted. If he was aware of the conspicuous subject change, he didn’t pursue it. “Doubt. Cash—like time—has no meaning here in the hell fishbowl.”
“True. But how about Parole bucks? Water? Do the words ‘olympic-sized swimming pool’ mean anything to you?”
“Swimming’s never been my deal. Besides, if you believe the scuttlebutt, water embargo’s about to ramp up even worse. I don’t even want to be holding a fistful of gallons when that happens. I don’t want that kind of attention, or—that’s life and death power right there. That kind of responsibility… nah. Someone else.”
“Well, how about escape?” Now it was Regan’s turn to consciously keep his tone light and conversational, even as his throat started to feel dry. “Breaking out of the big bubble for good?”
“Laugh!” Jay said the word out loud, before actually laughing. “Oh-ho, did someone tell you about a new top-secret tunnel out of Parole? Or did they cut a hole in the barrier with a LASER—or melt it with some acid this time? What totally genius, completely foolproof—”
“I’m serious, Jay. What would you say if I told you I had a way out of this place?”
“I’d say you got taken for a ride, ‘cause nothing happens in this city without CyborJ knowing about it, and I didn’t hear zip. Believe me, if something was legit, I’d be the one telling you.”
“You’re really sure about that?” Regan’s voice was low. “There’s no chance someone knows something you don’t?”
“That chance… doesn’t have a snowball’s in… uh, here, and I’ll tell you wh—oh! Oh!” He yelped suddenly, and Regan stopped dead in his tracks, unable to tell if Jay was happy or upset. “Would you look at that! Look!”
“Would if I could,” Regan said levelly into his headset. “But you’re gonna have to use your words. I know that’s hard for you, using words, but—”
“We are now at one hundred percent! It’s up! The torrent! We have pop culture! Parole has pop culture! Freedom of information, entertainment, daytime TV for all!”
“Good work, Jay. Glad to—”
“I am the lightbringer! I have brought the light!” Regan pulled the earpiece away from his head for a moment while Jay’s celebration continued, returning it to its place in time to hear the return of actual words directed at him. “Congratulations partner, we’ve just presented five years worth of free music, video, and humor to Parole’s terrified, huddled masses. If that’s not a morale booster…hang on, lemme just send out some pings to the huddled masses…” The typing resumed, then stopped a moment later. “Pause. You better still be moving. Are you moving?”
“I’m moving! You keep morale boosting, I just reached the Arbor Street crater.” Regan appraised the next obstacle. A giant hole yawned across his path where two entire city blocks had sunk into the crumbling earth. He tried not to look at the red-orange glow in the lower reaches. Instead he scanned the edges; circumnavigating would be time-consuming, perilous… but almost directly behind him hung a metal ladder. A fire escape, still relatively intact. If he couldn’t go forward from here, maybe a little altitude would let him look at things from a different angle. “Hey, just keep telling me good things, okay? I hate going this way.”
“Can do. This is so great. So great!” Jay continued, almost giggling. “Best cache ever. I’m telling you, we should stick to this from now on. Victimless uh, media liberation, and giving the gift of MP3 and video comfort and joy to the needy—forget runtime. Scary, dangerous, way too grimdark, way too depressing… this is what it’s all about. Hey, guess what’s going the fastest.”
Regan stopped mid-step, looking vaguely dismayed. “Uh, adult… content?”
“No, there is none, I’m running an all-ages joint here.” A brief pause. “That would go fast, though. People gotta get their hot stuff. Before we all become hot stuff.”
He started walking again, shaking his head. “Most people. I’ll stick to running.”
“Hear you, ace lizard. But nah, our number one hot seller? Saturday morning cartoons. Justice League, X-Men, isn’t that great? For some reason it gives me hope.”
“Eh… I kinda get enough superpower weirdness in my life.” His tongue flicked out and back in, tasting the smoke that still clung to the air filtered through the gas mask. “Why would I wanna watch it on TV?”
“Right, yeah, I hear you. When your reality is as weird as ours, I guess boring, ‘normal’ things become the escapism.”
“Doesn’t everything come back to escape?” Regan cast a careful telescopic eye over the distance between this level and the next one down, noticing a couple lights on in the next building. “Some of those windows down there look occupied, Jay.”
“I was just gonna say. Dug into the complex records—can you believe some places still keep them? Anyway, if we believe the list and floor plan, the second floor from the top is occupied, but the top one’s vacant. Says due to… ‘adverse fauna.’ Don’t want to know what that is. But if you land softly and don’t throw any rocks around, you should be fine.”
“Adverse fauna?” Regan shook his head. “Sounds like they need some serious pest co
ntrol.”
“Sounds like a job for someone else. Your job is to keep moving.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Regan said as he dropped as softly as possible.
“I see it all so you don’t have to.” Jay chuckled. “Forget Eye in the Sky—I’m the real watchman here. No powers necessary. Just good old-fashioned cracking, and Parole-refined brilliance.”
“And modesty.”
“Oh, let me have a little fun, I know what’s real. You’re the one sneaking into the secure facilities and fighting the bad guys, grabbing the secrets and vanishing without a trace, all super-spy action and cool moves. And nobody can ever know.”
“I don’t want them to know,” Regan said quickly. “You can keep the glory. You earned it anyway. I can admit that I wouldn’t get far on my own.”
“Come on, I’m only half of this operation. The face… so to speak… the pretty face. With an internet connection.” He paused. “That I built. By myself. For the rest of Parole to use and be happy. In this prison that wouldn’t have half its networks without me. The one they call CyborJ.”
“Can’t resist for five seconds, can you?”
“No, I cannot.”
Regan stopped again, but this time it was to actually laugh. “You meant what you said, didn’t you? You really are happy doing this?”
“Is anybody? Happiness is, uh. A relative term in Parole. Remember last week, I stayed up with you all night after that job… went south?” Regan winced; Jay was being very generous. “And you… had a hard night?” Even more generous.
“You can say it,” he said in a low, dry voice just above a whisper. “I froze. I had Major Turret in the crosshairs. It was perfect. And I… I’m so sorry, Jay.”
“Hey. No. Don’t go back there. So you’re not a killer. Means you’ve got more conscience than most of Parole combined.”
“It’s just… it’s hard when you know them. Even their names. I freeze.”
“He’s more useful alive than dead anyway—we can get more information out of him.”
“And he’s more dangerous. He’s killed thousands, he’ll kill more before he’s through. And I let him get away.”
“Regan, we will talk about this when the run is over and we’re face to face. Right now, shake it off and keep moving.” A sigh, and when Jay spoke again his tone was more pensive. “Believe me, nobody knows better than me how dangerous that man is. But whatever he does from here on, it’s not your fault.”
“It’s somebody’s. You set up that job perfectly. Everything timed just right, I was right… right there. And…”
“We handle whatever fallout comes together, that’s all.” Jay was quiet for a moment. The synthetic cat’s purrs filled Regan’s earpiece, made it easier to catch his next breath. “So yeah, that night sucked. And the week before that, when you pulled me out of that collapsed subway station… that’ll learn me not to double-check my seismic reports. Learn me good.” He shuddered at the memory. “That sucked too.”
“Yeah,” Regan said, shaking his head slowly, trying to shake off the creeping cold like he’d been told. “How’s your ankle?”
“This may come as a surprise… but it sucks.” He laughed, and even though it was wry and relatively mirthless, Jay sounded like himself again. “Point is, I’ve scratched my share lately. And you pulled my ass out of the fire, in a couple different ways. So you’re not that special when you trip and wreck, and you don’t need to burn yourself up about it too. Parole’s gonna do that for you.”
“Thank you, CyborJ.” Regan reached the far edge of the roof and glanced over, before sighing in resigned disappointment. No clear way down except a gutter and pipe and an almost vertical climb. Home never seemed to get any closer tonight. “I can always count on you to lift my spirits.”
“Well, if I ever need a pick-me-up, I’ll just do this again. People grabbing treasures left and right,” Jay sounded awed, fascinated by whatever he was watching. Regan doubted he was even blinking. “Word travels fast in Parole…everyone’s so bored…second something interesting or fun…everybody… Fear and boredom, worst combo ever. Come and get it…”
“You’re doing a good thing.” It wasn’t that far of a drop down to the next level, and the drainpipe—an ancient relic from when rain had existed—was rusty and hung at an odd angle, but still looked stable enough to hold his weight for the bare half-second he’d need.
“Damn, wish I could see peoples’ faces. Downloads are picking up so fast, I can’t even keep track. Everybody’s yelling about their favorite things, how the world outside still exists. The Earth is still turning, people are still living long and prospering. The whole world hasn’t gone to hell.”
“Just our part of it, right?”
“Right. And it’ll be waiting for us when we get out. When. But we get out the smart way, the right way, not by jumping at every half-baked scheme that pops up. That’s how people get fried. I mean literally fried, ever seen someone try to jump the barrier? Zap!”
Stars. He saw stars.
“Regan?” Jay’s voice was suddenly sharp; in the background, Seven’s meows sounded alarmed. “Getting some weird vitals here. You need a breather?”
“I’m fine.” He shut his eyes and made himself breathe. His tight chest unclenched by degrees, but the lightness in his head remained. “Just… yeah, I might take a minute here.”
“Good, chill for a few, you’re still clear all around. Oh.”
“What?”
“My God. Regan. Look at all this Star Trek.”
“Still on the comms, Jay.” He leaned his head back against the wall, shoulders shaking in a silent laugh despite his hammering heart. “Found your happy place, huh?”
“So much Trekkage. Do you know how long since I’ve boldly gone anywhere? Over ten years. It’s been so—Jeez. I can’t... I’m gonna find out if Voyager ever got home. That’s...” He was quiet for a second. “Okay, I’m done. Maybe it sounds ridiculous to you but when your life is nothing but fire, and tension, and death and—and more fire, shit like this is just... important.”
“It doesn’t sound ridiculous.”
“Thousands of people are gonna have that. We did that. You and me. Regan and CyborJ.”
“CyborJ and Regan,” he replied automatically, but his smile faded. “The world is out there, though. It’s waiting. We could... people can just...”
“Huh?” Another meow, longer, more insistent. When Jay spoke again, it was in a low murmur different from the tone he used to speak to either his robotic cat, or reptilian partner in justice. “Seven, isolate vitals. Display. No, display BP and cardiac. No, disp—Regan’s BP and cardiac rhythm. Okay, Mister Lizard? You still with me?”
“Yeah, I’m here...” he said faintly, leaning his head back against the wall. “Wish I wasn’t.”
“What’s that mean?” Jay’s rapid-fire tone slowed, and he sounded hesitant for the first time.
“Jay... I think I’m done.”
“Done with what? Starting to worry me, partner. Take some deep breaths, I do not like what your BP’s doing.”
“I’m done with Parole. Runtime. Missing people. Hell, missing TV shows and songs and... life.”
“This is our life. It’ll be different someday, and yeah, I’m living for that day, but I’m living for now too.” His tone lowered again. “Seven, program four, volume thirty-five percent. Engage.” Purring flowed through the headset speakers again, softer this time, regular and steady. Regan took a breath. “Good kitty.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah. You’re right.” Regan murmured, knowing he’d be heard, but maybe not understood. He could feel the thumps of his heart in his throat, and swallowed hard against the lump building in it. He leaned the heels of both hands on the hot, crumbling concrete, and tried to breathe.
“Vitals still looking pretty hinky.” Jay’s voice was soft and as low as Seven’s continuous purrs. “I’m checking air traffic and ground activity nearby. If you need to camp out there for a while—”
“What’s going on, partner?” The voice in his ear was insistent but not harsh. “Talk to me. Something go down in there?”
“No…” Regan swallowed hard. “Not exactly. The data I grabbed. I glanced through it, just to make sure it was right. The world outside Parole—it’s not as normal as it looks on TV, Jay.”
“What do you mean?” A brief pause. “The file. You did peek. I knew it.”
“Of course I did. But we’re not supposed to discuss over the airwaves. You can never know who’s—”
“Who’s listening. Yeah.” He nodded, finishing Parole’s most-repeated rule and warning. “Radio Angel’s very sensible rule. For us, it’s bullshit. You know my lines are secure. We’ve said anything here for ten years. Why is tonight different?”
“I just... I didn’t want to tell you...”
“Tell me what?” For the first time, Jay sounded scared. “Regan, what did you find?”
“Internal Eye in the Sky communications,” Regan sucked in a breath, but it did nothing to stop his spinning head. “About outside. It’s a mess out there. The Tartarus Zone. The fallout, the contamination... It’s getting worse. A lot worse.”
“How bad?”
“Bad. They’re blaming us.”
“Of course they are. We knew they would.”
“No, you don’t—Jay, we have to get out of here. The longer we’re in here, the worse it—”
“Stop.” Jay’s voice was so flat, Regan shut his eyes and dropped his head. “You’re right. A job isn’t the time to discuss this. But we sure are gonna talk about it. For now just breathe, okay?”
“You keep breathing too.” Slowly he stood up and moved toward the roof edge. Toward the next jump, one step closer to the end of this exhausting night.
“Yeah, right. Just tell me one thing. The… what’s going on outside. Was it him?”
“You mean Turret.”
Life Within Parole Page 12
