A Crack in the Sky

by Mark Peter Hughes

  He blew out a long breath. All he could do now was climb over the wall again and head back home. When he turned to retrieve the spyglass, though, to his surprise it wasn’t where he’d left it. He’d dropped it in the grass by the hedge—he was sure of it—and yet there was nothing there anymore. It was gone! He looked around in a panic. That spyglass was special. It had belonged to Father when he was a boy. How could he have lost it in such a small space?

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move. The hedge shook, and a dark shape shifted inside it. Somebody was in there, and suddenly Eli was sure that, whoever it was, they had taken the spyglass. He stepped forward.

  “Hey, what are you doing in there?” he demanded. “Give it back!”

  The leaves shook again, but otherwise there was no answer. He crouched and parted the plastic branches. Peering inside, he saw something disappear into the ground—at least, that’s what it looked like. The earth seemed to move, and then there was nothing.

  “Who are you? What department do you work for?”

  But the shadow was gone. Eli crawled under the leaves, inching forward. Groping around with his hands, he discovered something near the base of the wall. It was a hinged flap, stiff and round. It had been left open, but when he touched it, Eli realized its upper side matched the texture of the ground, as if it were meant to blend in when it was closed.

  It was a hidden door. A secret entrance to a hole in the ground.

  He peered into it. The opening was just wide enough for one person to fit through. There was a ladder, but it was too dark to see the bottom. He knew he shouldn’t go down there. The company had firm rules about restricted areas, but what was he supposed to do? A thief had taken the spyglass and he had to get it back!

  He climbed in.

  The ladder went down quite a distance before Eli touched the floor. The heat was stifling. There was a damp smell too, and the sound of water dripping. He decided that whomever he was following must be an employee from the Department of Plumbing. Through the dim light, he could just make out that the ceiling ahead was lined with giant pipes and that thick cables ran along the walls.

  He stood still, listening for footsteps.

  “Hello …?”

  No answer, just the hiss and grind of machinery. There was only one direction to go in, though, and that was forward. Within a few steps the passage narrowed, and he had to crouch to fit under the pipes. It was so hot he could barely breathe.

  He crept forward, groping his way through the shadows. It was spooky down here. Far above, he could see the grates in the sidewalk, unreachable through the tangle of pipes, and the shoes of pedestrians moving along on the street. As far as he could tell, he was heading toward the eastern perimeter. Would this tunnel go all the way to the edge of the dome? What was it for? And where was that thieving employee?

  “Hey!” he called. “Who’s there? Can anybody hear me?”

  Nothing.

  Farther in, the pipes sank so low that he had to drop to his hands and knees and crawl. Water trickled onto his head and splashed in little puddles on the floor. He was considering turning back when he noticed a narrow opening in a long stretch of concrete to one side of the passage and a dim green light shining through the gap. Cautiously he poked his head through. There it was—the spyglass!

  He squeezed the rest of the way in and grabbed it. Even with the green glow it was dark in this new space, but he realized he’d discovered a secluded alcove with just enough height to stand in. He did. He took a step forward and felt his boot kick against something small and hard on the ground. He heard it slide away. Shining the spyglass, he saw a trail in the dust that led to a pile of debris by the opposite wall, a mound of dirt and broken concrete. Whatever he’d kicked, it was now half-buried at the base of the mound. He squinted. A triangle of white, it looked like the corner of a book, the old-fashioned kind, with actual paper pages and pictures that didn’t move. If so, it was a rare find. He stepped over and pulled it from the heap.

  He was right. It was an old book, tattered but intact. He wiped dust from the cover. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and Through the Looking-Glass, by Lewis Carroll. Eli had never heard of it. He wondered what an artifact like this was doing underneath the city. How long had it been there?

  Scanning the base of the wall, he noticed other curious things: Sand goggles. A pair of old boots. A wooden fork. An air-filter mask. Dented and tarnished, the mask was attached to the leather headpiece of an environment suit more or less like the ones the Department of Employee Safety workers wore whenever there was a reason to go Outside. This one was ragged and old, though. Definitely well-worn. Why would someone leave a thing like that down here, of all places?

  In the corner there were a couple of rough blankets, neatly folded, and another one rolled up like a pillow. Had somebody slept down here? It seemed too incredible to believe. But then he looked back at the mound of garbage—and this time he noticed a pile of small bones. Some dead thing, recently eaten.

  The sight of it made him queasy.

  Somebody was living down here. But what kind of person was crazy enough to sleep under the city? Who would skulk around the dark catacombs like an animal, hidden from sight and feeding on small creatures they probably found crawling among the pipes and wires? Eli glanced again at the sand goggles. He eyed the air-filter mask. And with a sinking feeling, he suddenly knew.

  There was only one kind of person who would live like this.

  A desert rat. An Outsider.

  His heart began to race. Outsiders, the wild people that lived like savages out in the wasteland outside the domes, were more like untamed beasts than human beings. Some were even mutants. The idea that one of them had managed to penetrate the dome wall into Providence was terrifying. Outsiders were barbarians. They would think nothing of slitting his throat—and then who knew how much looting and killing and chaos might follow? Eli trembled at the thought. He took a step back toward the gap in the wall. He had to get out of here! He needed to rush back and warn everyone!

  But just as he was squeezing into the low passageway again, he heard something. Under a growing hiss of machinery, a series of muffled grunts like heavy breathing. He froze. Farther up the tunnel, a dark shadow lumbered toward him. For an instant it passed through a narrow beam of light, and Eli caught a glimpse of tangled hair and leathery skin, mottled and red. Eli recognized at once the weathered complexion that came from sandstorms and prolonged exposure to the sun.

  There could be no question now. This was an Outsider.

  Eli felt his blood run cold. He was all alone. Nobody knew where he was. If the Outsider were to attack him, to tear him apart, it was conceivable that nobody would ever find out what had happened to him.

  A loud rumble shook the pipes. Eli realized it must be one of the underground trams, the Bubble cars that carried employees through the city’s subway system, running somewhere not far below them. The rumble lasted only a few seconds, but in that moment the savage stopped crawling and seemed to look up. Eli was almost certain it saw him, but it didn’t come after him. It kept still, watching him.

  At first Eli only gaped back at it, too terrified to move. Then, with a rush of adrenaline, he began scrambling away, tearing back through the tunnel on all fours. At one point he cut his hand on the edge of a piece of broken pipe, but he didn’t slow down. Soon the ceiling was high enough that he could pull himself to his feet again. He gasped for breath as he ran.

  Eli had already reached the street before he allowed himself to look behind him and see that he was alone. As far as he could tell, the Outsider wasn’t chasing him. Still, with every step he imagined he could hear the sound of a wild thing breathing at his back, closing in behind him.

  “An Outsider?” Mother asked, peering over her neon-framed glasses at Eli from her Senate office in New Washington. “You’re certain?”

  “Yes! He had red, blotchy skin—I’m sure!”

  Eli was still catching his breath after spr
inting all the way home. The moment he burst into the house, he’d pinged Mother, and now a hologram of her head floated inside the CloudNet sphere in the living room. Like a translucent beach ball, the sphere hovered near the center of the ceiling, sending milky waves of light across the mahogany cabinets and along the walls. He’d interrupted her in the middle of a meeting. Just over Mother’s shoulder floated another three-dimensional head, bald and mustached, in another sphere—a hologram inside a hologram. It was Uncle Hector, Father’s eldest brother. Part of Mother’s official role in the Senate was to provide assistance to high-ranking InfiniCorp officials, including Uncle Hector, who was InfiniCorp’s chief operating officer and Grandfather’s right-hand man.

  “Anyone with you, boy?” Eli’s uncle asked, removing the cigar from his mouth. “Anybody who might be able to confirm this? Did you alert the Guardians or anyone else?”

  “No, I ran straight here as soon as it happened. Nobody was with me.”

  Mother looked tired. Her pink wig held stiffly in place, but there were bags under her eyes. “What on earth possessed you to crawl through the underworks of the city? Dr. Toffler sent word that you made a false excuse and walked out in the middle of a lesson. I’ve never heard it sound so annoyed.”

  Eli’s face went warm, but he wasn’t going to lie. “Dr. Toffler wouldn’t believe me about the sky explosion, and I had to check it out. I was scared of what it might mean for the dome.” He looked down at the floor. “Anyway, after that, things just sort of … happened.”

  “I’ll have the Guardians keep an eye out for the Outsider,” Uncle Hector said, “but if he saw you, then he knows we’ll be looking for him. I’m sure he’s long gone by now, slipped back into the wasteland. I’ll send word to the chiefs over at Power Systems and Plumbing to find the tunnel and close it off.” He put the cigar back in his mouth and took a long puff, momentarily filling the sphere with smoke. “The important thing is, you’re okay.”

  “And the sparks in the sky? It was real, I’m telling you, and it’s not the first time I’ve seen things going wrong up there. Shouldn’t we send out an alert, in case it happens again?”

  Uncle Hector shook his head. “Not necessary. The dome isn’t breaking down, son. We’re aware of the problem, and we know why it happened: this Outsider of yours must have been meddling with the system. Besides, the sky software checks every pixel every five seconds. I’m sure the reason you didn’t find any debris on the site was because by the time you got there, the Sky Department already had the issue cleared up.”

  “You’ve been letting your imagination run away with you again,” Mother added with a shake of her head. “If you paid more attention to your training, you would have more faith that the company has everything in hand, and you wouldn’t keep getting yourself worked up about imaginary dome disasters.”

  Eli opened his mouth and closed it again. On the one hand, he was glad that his family was finally acknowledging he’d seen something out of order up there, but still, he’d thought they would be more alarmed. He suddenly felt a little silly.

  “But at least I discovered the Outsider, right?”

  “I suppose, but no doubt the company would have detected him soon anyway. By chasing after him, you put your life at risk for no good reason.” Uncle Hector paused. “Eli, right now your responsibility to InfiniCorp is to spend your time learning how to run a business, not chasing after fictional sky calamities or climbing through tunnels under the streets.”

  “Your lack of focus is getting to be a serious problem,” Mother said. “You’re a Papadopoulos, for goodness’ sake. Don’t you care about your future?”

  “Sure, I care about my future. It’s just that …” He sighed. He wasn’t sure how to finish, and in any case he was still shaking.

  “Aw, leave him alone, Mother,” called a voice. “Can’t you see he’s still scared?”

  Eli turned. On the stairway stood his brother, Sebastian. Three weeks shy of fourteen, Sebastian had long black hair down to his shoulders, with Father’s dark features and Mother’s sloping nose—all of which he had in common with Eli. But there the physical similarities ended. Sebastian was less than a year Eli’s senior but looked years older. Eli had inherited the Papadopoulos physique, short and solid, while Sebastian was tall and slim, with a penetrating gaze that turned teenage girls into puddles. Only a few weeks earlier, the CloudNet readers of Dome Girl magazine had voted Sebastian number 4 on their annual list of the Top Ten Cutest Future InfiniLeaders.

  “He should be scared,” Uncle Hector told him. “What your brother did was irresponsible and dangerous.”

  Mother frowned. “This defiant behavior has to stop, Eli. I’m afraid I’m going to have to instruct Dr. Toffler to double up your lessons for the rest of the week. You have some catching up to do.”

  His stomach sank.

  By then Sebastian had descended the remaining stairs and now stood beside Eli. “Don’t torture him. Dr. Toffler is the most boring droid ever. Have a heart.”

  “Dr. Toffler is a brilliant machine.”

  “Mother, it’s as dry as sand. Look, instead of piling on more lessons with the old rust heap, why not let Eli do some catch-up work with me? What unit are you on now, Eli? Messaging Theory?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, deadly stuff. But I know it cold.” He turned back to Mother. “I’ll work with him.”

  She was quiet a moment. “All right. I suppose that would be okay, as long as you finish up with Dr. Toffler today, and as long as Uncle Hector agrees.”

  “Fine, fine,” he said. “I appreciate your willingness to step in to help the team, Sebastian.”

  Eli felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder. He knew what this was really about. Sebastian’s Internship Assignment was coming up, and he wanted to be sure he was on Uncle Hector’s good side. Not that there was any reason to worry. Sebastian was a rising star in the family, a shoo-in for a management spot in some high-profile department like Security or Entertainment Systems. Still, he’d saved Eli from a week of nothing but Dr. Toffler, and for that he was grateful.

  “Don’t worry,” Sebastian said into the sphere. “I’ll get him up to speed.” When he turned around, he winked at Eli.

  “In the meantime, boys, let’s keep this whole business to ourselves,” Uncle Hector said. “No point in raising needless alarm.”

  Shoulders slumped, Eli followed Sebastian up the stairs. Halfway up the steps he looked back toward the sphere. “Why would somebody do that?” he asked. “Sleep under the city?”

  Uncle Hector and Mother had been fading, but now they solidified again, and Uncle Hector looked up. “Oh, don’t bother searching for logic when it comes to Outsiders. They’re practically animals, you know that. Cannibals, cutthroats, and criminals are all you’ll find in the wasteland. If starvation doesn’t get them, brain fever rots their minds away. It’s very sad.”

  Sebastian pulled at his elbow, urging him to come upstairs and let it go, but Eli couldn’t. “Can’t the company help them? Why don’t we send people out there to clean it all up?”

  “This is not a good time for this conversation, Eli,” Mother said. “As you can see, you caught us in a meeting, and you have your own work to get back to.”

  In the hologram inside the hologram, Uncle Hector’s head chuckled. “No, it’s all right, Paloma. The boy’s just curious, that’s all. It’s normal.” And then to Eli he said, “We’d like to, kiddo, but do you have any idea how difficult and dangerous it would be with all the heat and storms, not to mention the savages themselves? Sure, we’d all love to speed up Mother Nature, but the Cooldown is going to take time. Figure another decade or two before the planet’s natural temperature cycle returns things to normal and it’s safe out there again.”

  Eli could still picture the shadow under the pipes: the frozen silhouette, the flash of tangled hair and red skin. As if reading his thoughts, Sebastian asked, “But, Uncle, isn’t it possible to live for years in the desert? Even with brain fever
, not everybody dies, right?”

  Uncle Hector took another puff on his cigar. “Very few of them last long out there, Sebastian,” he said. “And there are some things worse than death.”

  When he returned to his room, Eli found Dr. Toffler in dormant mode. It had folded itself into its box and shut itself down to recharge its batteries. The mongoose lay on the rug, ripping up one of Eli’s socks. Scattered all around her were dozens of tiny bits of blue fabric. She narrowed her eyes at Eli, looking for all the world like she was annoyed with him.

  “Marilyn, what’s the matter?” he asked, bending to stroke her little head. “Don’t do that.”

  She bit into the sock again and tore off another piece. Eli wondered if it was because he’d gone on a walk without her.

  “It’s okay,” he said, running his fingers through the thick fur of her back. “I’ll take you next time.” After a while this seemed to appease her. She let go of the sock and closed her eyes, and soon Eli could hear the soft tick-tick-tick sound she made when she was content. Apparently all was forgiven.

  He stood up. He was about to revive Dr. Toffler when his hand brushed against something hard and flat in his cloak pocket. The Alice book. He didn’t remember slipping it into his pocket back in the tunnel, but he must have, because here it was. He examined the cover again. In this better light he could see a drawing of a little girl peering over a giant mushroom with some kind of bug sitting on top.

  He glanced back at the sleeping robot and decided his lessons could wait.

  Marilyn followed him to his bed, and when he sat down she hopped up beside him. This wasn’t the first old-style book he’d ever come across. Grandfather had a whole wall in his office stacked high with them, his favorites saved from the Old Days, before the Re-Org. Eli enjoyed poring over them whenever Grandfather let him. Unlike the CloudNet-generated tales in modern InfiniBooks, no colorful images moved across these pages, no music swelled from the bindings. Mostly there were just static words printed in black and white. But Eli liked that. He preferred imagining the scenes for himself because it meant he was free to picture them as he liked.