The officers exchanged a glance.
“Those marks are all over the place,” said One. “You see anything else?”
Sima stared at her feet. “I got grabbed by a gang. They searched me for stuff to steal but didn’t find anything so they let me go.”
“And you think they’re Underground,” said One, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose I can see that reasoning.”
“Why don’t you come with us, kid?” Asked Two.
She gasped, staring up at them like they’d offered to put a bullet between her eyes.
“Relax.” One held up his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re not being detained. We’ve got a new program going on to help out street kids. Since you’re under eighteen… pending verification, you’d be eligible for it.”
Sima thought back to the ‘raid’ on the little kids in their Crash. That didn’t sound voluntary. “Umm. Can I think about it?”
Officer Two leaned close, the small, rectangular spotlights on his shoulder pads nearly blinding her. “You look like you really could use a decent meal and real bed, plus some vaccines. There isn’t much out here for you, kid.”
“I know…” She shivered. “But it kinda sounds, like, you know… too good to be true. I don’t wanna get sold to a hospital and used for tests.”
Both officers chuckled.
“Nothing like that, I promise,” said One. “But, it’s not mandatory.” He held his forearm up, presumably taking her picture with electronics in his armor. “You go on and think about it. Find any EGSF officer and ask about the Progenitor program. You’ll have a soft bed, hot food, clothes, and a shower faster than you’d believe.”
“That kinda sounds like prison,” muttered Sima.
Officer Two chuckled. “Well, yeah, now that you say that, it kinda does. But it’s not. We probably should work on our sales pitch. There’s also school and adoption assistance.”
She eyed the two of them. Having EGSF officers talk to her, an Outcast, like a human being was too weird to comprehend. Something did not feel right about it, not at all. Though, why they wanted to convince her to do something instead of simply dragging her off in handcuffs, she had no idea. They could quite literally shoot her in the face for no reason at all and not get in any trouble for it.
“That sounds nice,” said Sima. “I’d still like to think about it if you don’t mind.”
“All right.” Officer One pulled a small clear plastic fob from a storage compartment on his belt. “If you change your mind, use that.”
Sima accepted the holocom. If she squeezed it, the city-wide holo-net would connect her to this guy. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I hate watchin’ you walk off homeless, kid. But, you’re free to go.” Officer Two stepped aside and gestured at the sidewalk.
“Thank you.” She put the holocom in her tunic’s pocket. As bizarre as the experience of meeting friendly cops was, and as unbelievable as their offer sounded, part of her felt tempted, more so than becoming a whore. “I want to talk to a friend of mine, but she’s nineteen. Is she eligible for the program too?”
Officer One scratched at his helmet. “Umm. Possibly. It would depend on a couple factors, but we can try to get her in.”
“Okay. I’ll holo you tomorrow or the day after, I promise. Even if I’m too scared to do it, I’ll let you know.”
They nodded at her.
Sima fast-walked off down the street, beyond confused at why cops had been nice to her. The sky could’ve turned fuchsia, and that would’ve made more sense.
6
Desperate Fortune
Sima’s world shuddered, knocking her out of a restless sleep into darkness. The earthquake caused a pile of trash bags to collapse on top of her as gravity upended itself. Overcome by panic, she screamed.
The shaking ceased.
A sliver of sun overhead broke the night. She squinted past the plastic bag mushed into her face at a narrow line of day on either side of a shiny, chrome head with two glowing blue eyes.
“Human,” said a robotic male voice. “Why have you placed yourself in an Omni Recycling Corporation collection unit?”
She glanced around at assorted junk and the steel walls of a chamber larger than her room at the Crash, though not by much. A vague memory of crawling into the giant ORC bin to sleep free from prying eyes came back to her. “Uhh, to sleep.”
“Human. I am unable to complete processing of recyclable collection while it may cause harm to a living being. Please effect self-removal of non-recyclable material.”
Sima rubbed her right eye with the heel of her hand, trying to avoid yawning in a mouthful of stink. “Yeah, sure. Gimme a sec to wake up.”
The robot stared at her. “One second has elapsed. Please effect self-removal of non-recyclable material.”
She sighed and fought her way out from under the trash bags to grasp the top edge, the bin wobbling with her effort to move. Once she peered out the top, she realized the container hung from lifting spars jutting out from the side of a massive gee-vee with an open-top. The tilted angle made the container’s front wall more of a ramp than a vertical barrier. Sima pulled herself to the edge, threw a leg over, and dropped down to stand on her feet. She took two steps before the robot emitted a warning buzz.
“Human, Your self-removal has created four potential misdemeanor infractions for littering. If you proceed to leave the area, this crime will be considered intentional.”
“Seriously?” She leaned her head back to sigh at the overcast sky. “Great. It’s going to rain…”
Feeling like a scolded child, she turned around and collected a few scraps of paper and plastic she’d knocked out of the ORC bin. The instant the fourth piece went back in, a loud mechanical whining noise from the huge gee-vee startled a yelp out of her. Spindly metal arms hoisted the container up and dumped it into the top of the collection vehicle.
“Have a nice day,” said the robot, before walking past her and climbing in to the cab.
Sima hurried off, cringing at the boom of the empty ORC bin landing once again on the paving. Fortunately, she’d picked a relatively tame one, and the trashy smell clinging to her clothing didn’t reek too much.
Still in a part of town she didn’t recognize, she walked around for a while, one hand to her growling stomach. Eventually, she spotted a public access point, and trotted over to the little metal box mounted to the corner of a building. At her touch, a large holographic screen appeared in front of her, tinting the whole world yellowish-green. She swiped her fingers into the tingling panel, selecting the city map. The ‘you are here’ dot told her she’d gone two-point-four miles outside her usual territory, but getting back to familiar ground would be easy.
“Two intersections that way, turn left, then just keep going straight.” She shot ‘finger guns’ at the panel and walked away.
No longer sensing a person near it, the display shut down.
A few minutes of walking later, the wonderful aroma of seafood ramen pulled her toward a noodle bar three times the size of the one she usually went to, and fancier. It occupied the ground floor of a twenty-story tower of gleaming silver windows, wrapped around the corner. Forty stools, twenty per side, held a handful of people munching away. Those on the left feasted on sushi or maki rolls while the nearer ones had bowls of noodle soup. Two men worked behind the counter, each attending to one side of the building.
Sima approached the older, friendlier-looking cook, squeezing up to the counter between two empty stools. “Excuse me, sir. Could you maybe spare some plain broth and noodles? I haven’t had any food in over a day.”
The man waved at her like he swatted a fly in the air. “Get lost or pay like everyone else.”
One rule she followed: never pull out glint and buy food from a place she failed to beg from. They’d remember her as a manipulator. Head hung, she trudged off. She only made it three steps before a hand reached out and caught her right arm at the bicep.
“Hang on, kid,” said a
man. His grip didn’t hurt, more intended to get her attention than hold her.
Sima glanced at a hand wrapped in black cloth strips approximating a fingerless glove. From there, her gaze climbed a roughed-up grey sleeve. Scraps of tech embedded in the fabric blinked and flashed. She looked along the arm to the shoulder, where more small metal boxes adorned his tunic, bedecked with wires and a mixture of displays both physical and holographic. The tiny hard-screens all showed strings of numbers, some changing every few seconds while the holographic ones showed small face pictures, like from IDs. She shifted her attention to a brownish beard, then up to the face of a man in his thirties with hazel eyes and thick brows. His brush cut hinted he might’ve been former EGSF, but his clothing called him an Outcast. Dusty black BDU pants and beat-to-hell combat boots confirmed it.
“What?” asked Sima.
He let go of her arm and patted the stool next to him. “Have a seat. Let’s talk. I’d like to buy you a meal and pay you for a little errand.”
Sima looked him over again. His gaze didn’t strike her as too predatory, at least not in the sense he intended to hurt or take advantage of her in a sexual way. No, he seemed like one desperate person looking for an even more desperate person to do something dangerous or illegal. After a moment of standing there weighing the idea, another growl from her stomach convinced her to slide onto the indicated stool.
“Excellent,” said the man, offering a hand. Dirt smudged at the sides of his eyes parted to reveal thin webs of clean skin in wrinkles as he smiled. “Nalas Corvin.”
Sima tentatively accepted the handshake. “Sima Nuvari. What kind of errand?”
“Nothing terribly difficult. I need a package delivered to a woman who goes by the name Magdalena.”
She stiffened. “Umm.”
Nalas shook his head. “Relax, girl. This isn’t some trick to get you kidnapped and forced into prostitution. Magdalena does not do that. I’m a simple coordinator of goods and shipments. People need things done or things moved from one place to another, and I arrange it.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her lap, brushing her hands over her black pants. They, too, might have been BDUs at one point, before she repaired them into something else. “So you just want me to carry a package there?”
“That’s right.”
She shifted her eyes toward him. “It’s drugs, isn’t it?” Her stomach growled, loud and long.
Nalas didn’t flinch, continuing to stare at her with the same placid smile. “Do you really care?”
“How much are you paying?” asked Sima.
“Hundred glint.”
Whoa! screamed Sima in her mind. Unfortunately, being only sixteen, she couldn’t quite keep her shock from showing on her face. Nalas chuckled and gestured at the man working that side of the counter.
“One order of whatever she wants.” Nalas nodded toward Sima.
Still numb from the offer of so much glint, Sima gazed up at the holographic menu and zeroed in on the seafood ramen that brought her here in the first place. “Number six please.”
The cook nodded and set to the task of assembling the ingredients in a bowl. Nalas took out three UMU chips and placed them on the counter. The chromatic plastic caught the sunlight, casting tiny rainbows over the fake marble surface.
“Okay. I’ll do it,” said Sima. A hundred glint! I could get real clothes! And food! Maybe even like an apartment or something if there’s more work.
“Your eyes already said that.” He patted her shoulder.
“So you like, do stuff?” asked Sima. “What about other errands?”
“Oh, there’s always things needing to be done.” Nalas glanced at the cook. “Refill on the tea when you get a chance?”
The man nodded.
Her head swam with possibilities. Carrying a package to Magdalena’s place might take an hour at most. Making a hundred glint in one hour for simply walking somewhere sounded far too good to be true. But also too good to walk away from. Sure, she’d probably agreed to transport drugs, or something that would likely get her arrested. That only meant she needed to be extra careful to avoid the EGSF on the way there. She could do that, if she kept herself from letting her thoughts wander over random worries on the way. The cops only snuck up on her when her head left the real world behind.
I can do it. She shivered with dread at breaking the law, but it seemed like the EGSF had already decided to round up Outcasts. Whatever that ‘Progenitor’ thing was, it didn’t sound friendly. Creepy more like. The EGSF had treated people like her so poorly for so long, a sudden switch to wanting to be nice and take care of them rang false.
Nalas didn’t talk much while they waited for her food to come out, but a few other people, mostly older teenage boys, came by and chatted with him. Sometimes, a small package exchanged hands, sometimes glint. One boy a year or two older than her with white hair and dark brown skin said a few words in a bizarre code. Nalas reacted to the meaningless phrases about dancing frogs or spinning turkeys as though they held great significance, and handed the boy twenty glint for whatever he’d said.
The chef set her food in front of her, and Sima pushed everything else out of her mind but enjoying her free meal. Bits of fish, shrimp, squid, and scallops mixed with noodles and ramen broth occupied her for almost twenty minutes of sheer joy.
“Looks like you were hungry,” said Nalas with a smile.
“Yes. Thank you.” Sima took a few breaths to mitigate her feeling of fullness. “So, how does this errand work? I carry the thing to Magdalena, and she pays me?”
“Not exactly. You’ll come back to me here for your fee.”
Sima nodded. “Okay.”
“One moment.” Nalas reached over and tugged her hood down, then brushed her hair off her shoulders so it fell behind her back.
“You said I wouldn’t get made to prostitute. Why are you checking me out?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You will most certainly not have to do that.” Nalas held up a thin metal ring, but before she could get much of a look at it, he closed the choker around her neck with a soft, but sharp click.
Her hand flew to the front of her throat where the narrow band touched her skin. It didn’t feel heavy or thick enough to be any sort of restraint device, more a piece of jewelry. “What’s this for? Those boys didn’t have them. Is it like proof I’m working for you or something?”
“Those associates of mine don’t have them because they’ve been in my employ for a long time and I trust them. Call it a bit of insurance.” Nalas pulled a metal box out from under his tunic, about the size of a brick, and set it in Sima’s lap. “Here’s the delivery.”
“Insurance?” She fiddled with the choker, not liking the sound of that word at all.
“It is nothing to worry about provided you do not screw me over, in which case, it will blow up.” Nalas continued smiling that same pleasant smile. “Disappear with the shipment, you lose your head. Take too long to return to me, you lose your head. Bring that box to the EGSF, you lose your head.”
Sima gasped. Instant regret at agreeing to this job crashed into her meal, sending a bit of undigested food into the back of her mouth. She grabbed her throat and forced herself to swallow it again.
“Calm down, Sima.” Nalas grasped her shoulders, patting one side. “I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t have every confidence you would do the job as requested. Forgive my distrust, but some of the more innocent looking Outcasts are often the most shady.”
There’s a bomb around my neck. She shivered. “I-is it gonna go off if it gets wet or I fall or something?”
“Well, I wouldn’t pull at it. It’s steel, but not terribly thick. If you did manage to break it off, it would detonate. Water’s not a problem. I don’t buy cheap.” He winked. “Look, kid. Run the package and don’t take any stupid shortcuts. I’m not an unreasonable man. All I want is to ensure my client’s interests are satisfied.”
Sima closed her eyes. A hundred glint. A hundred g
lint. Still shivering, she looked at him again, and nodded. “Okay. I swear I won’t screw you over. Please don’t hit the button.”
“Take a moment and relax.” Nalas tugged her hood back up. “If you run around looking that frightened, you’ll attract attention.”
She fidgeted at her pants where the fabric bunched up around her knees. “If you want me to calm down, you could forget about the bomb.”
“We won’t need that little bit of insurance once you prove yourself reliable enough.” He held up a steaming cup of green tea in toast. “Just act natural. Oh, and try not to lose your head.”
The ramen in her stomach did a backflip.
7
Hot Potato
Sima hurried down the street, walking at a pace a hair shy of jogging. The thin metal band around her neck seemed to tighten with every step. She’d teased death numerous times in her life: narrowly avoiding gangs, being crushed under the wheels of a gee-vee, flirting with suicide at the landfill cliff… but walking around with a detonator strapped to her throat beat them all for sheer terror. Worse, the EGSF would probably arrest her for possession of an explosive device—assuming she survived meeting them.
Nalas’ package sat in her tunic’s front pocket, bumping against her stomach in time with her stride. She kept her hands stuffed in there as well, holding it. Mostly so she didn’t surrender to the panic making her want to grab the choker and pull at it. The click it made going on sounded an awful lot like a lock. Despite knowing it wouldn’t come off, the urge to try grew distracting.
She stopped walking and leaned against the wall, eyes closed and breathing hard. Stop thinking about it. I gotta focus. Worrying too much about what might happen would only keep her from noticing EGSF officers before she stumbled right into them. Every time she roamed around while her thoughts drifted off to daydreams or fears, cops came out of nowhere. She had to stay sharp as her life rather literally depended on it.
Out of Sight (Progenitor Book 1) Page 6
