by Natasha Ngan
Ahead, Butterfly was hunched over something. A boy around twelve years old stood beside him, shouting and gesturing angrily. The boy had the caramel skin of an Afronese and was dressed in the cleanest clothes Silver had seen on anyone here all day.
‘What d’you do that for?’ he cried. ‘I had them fine before you came. Now they’ll think I’m easy meat next time they see me!’
Butterfly ignored him, tending to the thing he was crouching over. Silver moved closer and saw that it was another boy. He was a Japanean like Taiyo, and though he looked of a similar age to the Afronese boy, his clothes were filthy, little more than rags. He lay unmoving on the floor.
Butterfly felt the boy’s pulse. ‘He’s alive, but he’s not speaking or moving.’
The Afronese boy had stopped shouting now. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘That’s normal.’
Butterfly turned to him. ‘Normal? How is not speaking or moving normal?’
The boy shrugged. ‘It is for him. He’s been like that for ages – a birthchip op gone wrong.’
Silver looked back at the Japanean boy on the floor. She felt sick. She’d heard how criminals would try to get their birthchips removed to avoid tracking by the Council. But the operations rarely worked. Birthchips were connected to the spinal cord in such a way that only a few highly trained surgeons knew how to remove them without permanent damage to a person’s neurological functions. The Limpets was the last place a surgeon like that would be found.
‘Poor boy,’ Silver breathed. She reached out to touch his cheek, his wide, terrified eyes following her every movement. ‘Why did he risk the operation?’
The Afronese boy crossed his arms. ‘His mum used him in her DNA hacker business, but there was an undercover policeman who managed to scan his birthchip, and so his mum had to get it out or he’d be captured next time. She abandoned him here after the op went wrong. Easier to avoid him being found. Anyway,’ he said, his voice brightening, ‘it’s not that bad – one of our people found him. He makes a great lookout. We’ve got this blinking system with him, see, since he doesn’t speak. Only annoying thing is when he lets himself get beat up, like just now, and one of us has to come help him. Look where that got me.’ The boy pointed at a bruise darkening his right cheek, an indignant look on his face.
Butterfly ignored him. ‘We need to get this boy some help,’ he said, an edge of anger in his voice. He looked up at the Afronese boy. ‘What’s your name?’
The boy hesitated. ‘Akhezo.’
‘Akhezo, does this boy have a home here? Someone who can help?’
Akhezo shrugged. ‘He lives in a bridge-house nearby.’
‘Can you take us there?’
‘But I’m late for an appointment –’
‘Take us there,’ said Butterfly, reaching into a pocket and holding out a sliver of grey notes.
Akhezo’s eyes widened greedily. ‘Sure.’ He grinned, grabbing the money. ‘It’s not too far from where I’m going actually, so Little Mae won’t be too –’
‘Little Mae?’ Silver interrupted, her head snapping up at Akhezo’s words.
‘Yeah. Little Mae. What’s it to you?’
Silver exchanged a quick look with Butterfly. She didn’t dare to believe it. ‘You know where she is?’ she asked, turning back to the boy.
He rubbed the notes in his hand. ‘I might …’
Butterfly pulled out a few more notes and held them up. Akhezo reached for them but Butterfly jerked his hand back. ‘Only if you’ll help us take this boy back to his house first.’
‘Oh, all right,’ sighed Akhezo. ‘I don’t know why you want to meet Little Mae, though. She’s a horrible witch of a Red.’
Butterfly handed the money to Akhezo. His face was harder than Silver had ever seen it, and she could tell that he was pushing down the anger that she felt rising in her too.
‘Just take us to this boy’s house first,’ he said, lifting the Japanean boy in his arms.
They followed Akhezo back along the ledge. Silver looked at the boy in Butterfly’s arms. His eyes were wide, scared. She ran a hand across his brow. ‘You’ll be home soon, don’t worry.’ She looked up and called ahead, ‘What’s his name?’
‘Who?’ Akhezo glanced over his shoulder. ‘Oh, him. That’s Sauro. Anyway, what does that matter?’ He turned, hurrying up the path. ‘We need to get going or I’ll end up just like him. Little Mae hates it when I’m late.’
11
Little Mae’s Last Hours
It turned out Akhezo was right; Little Mae did hate it when he was late. Butterfly barely had time to straighten after ducking through the entrance to her hideout – a curved dugout guarded by two boys clutching metal poles – before what looked like a small fireball flew at him, spitting and screaming.
He raised his hands to protect himself, then stopped when he realised what looked like a fireball was actually a tiny old Red woman dressed in bright pink and red clothes, teetering on platform clogs almost half as tall as she was. Her wrinkled face was sagging and liver-spotted with age, but her eyes were alert, shining like the coins dangling from the trimmings of her hat. They narrowed as she spotted Akhezo.
‘Fifty minutes, xiao zhu!’ she snarled, swooping over to the boy and striking him with the back of her hand. ‘Fifty minutes Little Mae has been sat here waiting for your news!’
Akhezo cowered. ‘Sorry, Little Mae. But I ran into these two, and they wanted to meet you …’
Little Mae’s head twitched, setting the coins on her hat tinkling, as her eyes followed his pointed finger to where Butterfly and Silver stood. Shoving Akhezo out of the way, the woman shuffled over to them, tottering on her huge clogs so quickly that Butterfly was amazed she didn’t fall flat on her face. She leant in towards Butterfly. He could smell her sickly perfume and see the flecks of food stuck between her rotten teeth.
‘You do not have an appointment with Little Mae, and Little Mae has never seen you before, white boy.’ She snapped her head round and shuffled over to Silver. ‘Little Mae hasn’t seen you either, Red. You are not from the Limpets, and you dress so fine for a Red girl. Look at these clothes, xiao zhu!’ the old woman shouted back at Akhezo. ‘When you grow up, you might have clothes like this. Unless you continue to keep Little Mae waiting. Then Little Mae will make her own clothes out of your skin, xiao zhu!’ She cackled, leaning towards Butterfly and Silver, a sharp glint in her eyes. ‘Little Mae calls him little pig because he squeals like one –’
‘Little Mae,’ interrupted Butterfly. ‘We need your help with something.’
The old woman’s wrinkled face crinkled even more as she smiled nastily. ‘Oh, Little Mae knows what you want.’
Out the corner of his eye, Butterfly saw Silver shoot him a worried look. ‘And what’s that?’ he asked, trying to seem indifferent.
‘What everyone wants from Little Mae,’ the woman chuckled. ‘A way out.’
Butterfly nodded. ‘Can you give us one?’
She burst into a shrieking laugh. ‘You ask if Little Mae knows how to leave Neo? Of course she does! Little Mae knows everything!’ She stopped laughing suddenly, edging forward on her clogs. A cruel smile curled the corners of her lips. ‘Though Little Mae does not know who you are …’
‘We have money,’ Butterfly said quickly. ‘If you can get us birthchip blockers, and show us the exit, we’ll pay you. But no questions.’
The woman nodded. ‘Little Mae understands. She does not like questions either.’ Her beady eyes still trained on Butterfly’s face, she screeched loudly, ‘Xiao zhu! Tell the guards outside to not let anyone in. Little Mae has business to take care of.’
Half an hour later and 550 dollars lighter, birthchip blockers hung round Butterfly and Silver’s necks as they followed Little Mae’s tottering form down winding corridor after winding corridor towards the exit’s secret location in the depths of the Limpets. Butterfly knew how lucky it was they were paid well as Elites. Five-hundred dollars was a small fortune to many people in Neo
-Babel.
‘Are you sure these will work?’ Silver whispered.
Butterfly touched the little metal cube on the end of the long piece of cord looped round his neck. He didn’t know the answer to her question, and there wasn’t a way to test the birthchip blockers either. But he kept reminding himself birthchip tracking was supposedly limited within the walls of Neo-Babel. Why would birthchips need to work outside the city if no one was allowed to leave?
‘I think they’re good,’ he answered eventually. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t help it. This is crazy.’
Butterfly touched her arm. His body tensed slightly, as it always did when he touched Silver. ‘There’s nothing crazy about it. We’re just going to find your parents. So it involves leaving Neo. There used to be a time when people came and went from cities without any thought at all.’
Up ahead, the passage widened. Twists of metal tubing hung from the bare-earth ceiling, wires spouting from their ends. Little Mae slowed.
‘Are we here?’ Butterfly asked.
‘Not yet, not yet.’ She rubbed the rings on her fingers, the coins on her hat tinkling as she glanced round. ‘Little Mae just thought she felt eyes on her.’
Silver looked round nervously. ‘Eyes?’ she whispered.
There was no one around, but distant shouts and sounds reached them from the rest of the Limpets.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Butterfly. ‘We’re almost there. And remember what Little Mae gave us? I’ve got it right here.’ He touched his trouser pocket.
For an extra 100 dollars, the woman had given them directions to the nearest settlement in the Outside. Having that little piece of paper tucked into his pocket seemed amazing to Butterfly. Just a few words and scribbled lines, and the world outside of the city had been made real, tangible. He wasn’t sure he believed it. A settlement so close to Neo-Babel? Surely they’d have heard about it. But unlike most people, he’d never thought the Council’s insistence that they were alone in the world was true. The Great Fall had broken the civilisations of the Mainland, Red Nations and Afrika, but it hadn’t destroyed them completely. He was sure of it.
They followed Little Mae for another few minutes until she stopped at a junction, the corridor fraying into a tangle of winding pathways that disappeared into shadows. Noises seemed to echo out from them; shouts and calls and crashes, and even something which sounded like a scream. Butterfly felt a shiver of nervousness. The Limpets had been filled with noise since they’d arrived, but these sounded different.
‘Is something going on?’ he asked.
Little Mae waved a hand at him. ‘Of course not!’ she replied, heading down one of the pathways. ‘The tunnels are just playing tricks with you.’
But after a few more minutes, Butterfly felt sure the noises were closer. They’d grown so loud he made out some of the words in the half-barked shouts and jeers; don’t belong here and leave and your precious Council District, and he swallowed, realising with a sickening jolt what was happening –
They’re here.
Silver turned to him, her eyes widening. ‘Butterfly –’
‘I know.’
‘Our headstart?’
He checked his comms cuff. ‘Gone. They must have noticed we were missing from the funeral.’
‘But how do they know we’re here?’
‘It’s the first place they’d look.’ Butterfly pulled off his backpack and reached inside, taking out a stungun. ‘I packed these just in case. Get yours.’
He slipped his backpack back on. Little Mae had disappeared ahead of them round the corner of the tunnel, and he jogged over to her. The noises and voices seemed louder now, and he felt them seeping into his veins, turning his blood cold.
‘Not long now, white boy,’ the woman called over her shoulder as she heard him approach, still tottering quickly up the corridor.
He grabbed her arm. ‘Please, Little Mae. Give us the directions to the exit.’
Her lips curled. ‘Only I am to know the –’
‘They’re coming!’ shouted Silver as she ran over, her stungun clutched in one hand. She grasped Little Mae’s shoulder. ‘Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but this is our only chance. We need to get to the exit now.’
Butterfly could see the desperation in Silver’s eyes. He knew that she was terrified they were about to be caught, and their shot at leaving the city to find her parents would be ruined. He felt that same urgency too. All around them, running footsteps and voices bounced off the corridor’s tall walls.
The old woman pushed Silver off her. ‘We will get to the exit when Little Mae wants.’
With a growl, Silver raised her stungun, pressing it to the woman’s neck. ‘Tell us how to get there,’ she hissed, ‘or you’ll have to deal with the people coming after us. And trust me – they won’t bother with stunguns. They’ll just go straight for the real thing.’
Little Mae narrowed her eyes. After a pause, she answered. ‘Down this corridor, first right, second right, then take each right turn you come to.’
Just then, stabs of light slashed the corridor. A group of masked police rounded the corner, guns held in front of them, Neo-Babel’s flag emblazoned across their chests.
‘We’ve got them!’ shouted one of the policemen.
For one split second, Butterfly stared back at them. Then he spun round, grabbing Silver’s arm and dragging her down the tunnel away from the police as gunshots screamed past their heads. He glanced back to see Little Mae’s tiny body keel over, a dark bloodstain blossoming between her shoulder blades.
They sped down the corridor, bullets following them. He almost missed the opening to the right but remembered Little Mae’s directions at the last second and they ducked through it, not letting up their pace. They passed one tunnel to the right before turning at the next.
Then take each right turn you come to. Butterfly repeated the directions Little Mae had given them in his head as they ran. The noises of the police were still at their backs – crashing footsteps, frustrated shouts, bullets skidding off the walls – but it all seemed quieter now. Distant. Still, they didn’t dare slow.
The passageway they were travelling down shrank into a plain, dirt-walled tunnel. It became narrower and lower. It felt like they were being squeezed alive, both by the size and the darkness. The lights that dangled from overhead were spaced far apart now, offering just a few small pools in the blackness. After what felt like hundreds of right turns later, Butterfly and Silver slowed their pace to a jog. Only when the noises of their own footsteps and breathing had quietened did they realise the tunnel was silent, and they finally came to a stop.
Silver leant against the earth wall, panting. ‘I think we lost them.’
Butterfly moved forward, looking up the passageway ahead. What he saw made his stomach clench. Round the curve, the corridor grew even smaller, but instead of disappearing into shadows he could see some reflective material across it –
A metal door.
He gestured Silver over. ‘Look,’ he said.
Together they approached the door. At first they had to crouch, and when the ceiling pressed down even further they dropped to their hands and knees. When they reached the door, it was too dark to see anything, so Butterfly felt the cold metal with shaking hands, feeling for a handle. He panicked suddenly at the thought that perhaps the door was locked and Little Mae had the key, but then his fingers touched a latch and he pulled.
The stink of dry earth rushed out as the door opened. Shadows hung in the tunnel beyond.
‘Is this it?’ breathed Silver.
Butterfly crawled in. He slipped off his backpack and took out a torch. Its white light was harsh in the darkness. He trained it on the door and both of them gasped as they saw the words daubed on the metal in white paint:
Say goodbye! You are now leaving Neo!
They were both quiet, staring at the sign. Then Silver turned from the door to look at Butterfly, her dark eyes
shining.
‘Let’s go get my parents,’ she said, and crawled past the door, pulling it shut behind them.
12
Inside the Skylung
Akhezo woke yet again with a mouth full of bitter moss and clumps of stringy vegetation. He leant over the side of the bed and spat them out, scowling. There was no point using a bin. The whole place – the walls, the floor, even the odd assortment of furniture, all stolen of course – was covered in tangles of rotting vegetation. Plants even crawled over the window, bathing the room in a green, underwater glow. It smelt something horrendous too, but for a boy who had grown up in the Limpets it was near enough heaven.
For four years now, Akhezo had been a runner for the Pigeons, the biggest anti-birthchip group in Neo-Babel. Their aim, like all anti-birthchip groups, was to stop DNA streaming and abolish birthchips. But they were more extreme in their methods, and their hatred for the Council was marked in everything they did. They’d been the ones behind the Council District Fire of 13 September and the murder a year later of two senior Council members. And unlike other anti-birthchip groups, they’d never been caught.
Akhezo got out of bed and picked his way across the vegetation-tangled floor to the door out of the room. He headed down the curving corridor, bright light feeling its way through gaps in the vine-wreathed plastiglass wall to his right. At the end of the corridor, he shoved aside the tangle of hanging vines covering the door and stepped out onto the tiny platform.
Cool wind hit him, bursting with morning freshness. The roar of the city was distant up here, over 600 metres from the ground, but he was still struck by the noise of Neo-Babel that the vegetation-muffled pods of the skylung masked.
The Pigeons were named after their secret set-up in one of the five derelict skylungs along the river’s Outer Circle. The silhouettes of the skylungs’ huge, wheel-shaped structures with glass pods ringing their edges was known to every person in Neo-Babel. They had originally been created to be organic air purifiers, each housing thousands of plants to oxygenate the air from the Industrial Districts to keep the inner city pollution free. But after being abandoned due to energy constraints, the plants had overgrown and the skylungs had become vertical forests.
