Marny

by Anthea Sharp

  “Yeah,” she’d said. “Uncle Zeg found out about this program, and we applied. I’ll be interning for Intertech—you know, the big communications company—in Newpoint. They want to expand their multigenerational platform.” Whatever that meant.

  “Good for you. But… Newpoint?” Tam had swiped his hair out of his eyes and stared at her. “That’s a million miles from here.”

  “I know.”

  It was appalling and exhilarating all at once. But next year was her last year of high school, and how was she supposed to figure out what direction to take in life when she’d never even been out of the Podunk town where she was born?

  “This is because of No Compromise, isn’t it?” Tam asked.

  “Mostly.”

  Nobody had expected Marny’s app to go viral the way it had. She’d hoped that a few gamers would use the avatar-modification plugin, but millions of people all over the world adopted NoComp to change their virtual selves. Within a couple weeks of the app’s release, chatrooms and forums all over the ’net were full of avatars modified using her program.

  And the gamers had gone wild, taking Marny’s program to crazy and fun extremes she’d barely envisioned. Even though she’d offered it as freeware, Jennet had made her set up a donation button.

  “What you’ve created has value,” Jennet had said. “If some people want to pay you for it, let them.”

  Marny hadn’t expected much, but in the several months the app had been live she’d made almost enough credits to help her family move someplace fancy, or buy them a grav-car. Not that they wanted either of those things.

  “Save it,” her mom had said. “College is coming up. And you earned that money, fair and square. We know how much time you spent on that program.”

  True enough. While her friends were diving deep in the prototype game of Feyland—and saving the world along the way—Marny had devoted hundreds of hours to her app.

  For years she’d had a fierce desire to be able to make an in-game character that reflected who she was. A big, dark-skinned girl who could take on whatever the world threw at her. Not a skinny, overly busty cartoon caricature with big eyes and pouty lips, or a fearsome warrior princess with tusks and tribal tattoos. So, she’d written the app—and it had exploded.

  “Huge congrats on the internship,” Tam had said, giving her a hug. “We’ll sure miss you.”

  “Same. Maybe I can come visit, if I get a few days off.”

  Doubtful, though. From what she knew about Intertech, their internships were coveted. Once accepted, they worked you hard. No extra days off to run home.

  “You know,” Tam had said, a wheedling edge in his voice. “You could always start sim gaming and come meet me and the crew in Feyland.”

  “Keep dreaming.” She’d scowled at him, to show she was serious.

  No way was she enclosing herself in a sim system. The thought of sitting in the formfitting chair and pulling the sensory helmet over her head made her breath tighten.

  “You can get therapy and meds for claustrophobia,” Tam had said.

  “Sure. How about you pay for it.”

  He’d held up his hands. “You’re a prime gamer, Marny. I just wish you wouldn’t limit yourself to screenie systems when there’s a whole immersive world to discover.”

  She’d shrugged. They’d had this argument for years, ever since Tam started simming when they were in elementary school. Her first try with the sim equip had convinced Marny she was not made for sim gaming, and subsequent experiences had only proven the point.

  “I’ll message you,” she’d said. “Keep me posted on… things.”

  She’d meant fey things, magical things.

  Tam, her very own Uncle Zeg, Jennet, and the arrogant-but-getting-better Roy Lassiter were all part of the Feyguard; a group of humans deputized to watch over the boundary between the mortal world and the Realm of Faerie. Mostly via the sim game of Feyland, which, in a strange way, had managed to straddle both those worlds.

  Marny wasn’t a Feyguard, but she’d seen plenty of tweaked things, including her time babysitting a changeling, and looking for traces of feral redcap goblin in the Exe. She knew that freaky magic could seep over into everyday life and create all kinds of havoc.

  But she was leaving that behind. Crestview might be a nexus for the Realm of Faerie, with the gaming company VirtuMax setting up headquarters there and the frequent crossovers between it and the magical Realm.

  Newpoint, though, was perfectly normal.

  Big, yes. Industrial and crowded and noisy, for sure. She was ready for it, though. Ready to face the world on her own terms. Without magic, thank you very much.

  “Check around your seat and collect all your belongings,” the driver said in a flat, bored voice. “Next stop, Newpoint main terminal, end of the line. Luggage compartments under the bus will be accessible from both sides after disembarking.”

  Marny watched out the window, eyes gritty from lack of sleep. The late bus was the cheapest way to travel from Crestview to Newpoint, and, frankly, she didn’t have that much left over for food and fun money. She’d taken her mom’s advice and put her app donations into a fund for college—all but a few extra creds to get her through the summer.

  Intertech was housing and feeding the interns, but she’d need more than just a bed and some corporate cafeteria food for the next two months.

  Pale light seeped into the sky, illuminating a few dozen skyscrapers. One of the downtown buildings was Intertech’s HQ, and she squinted, trying to make out the company logos on the top of the buildings. Maybe the tallest one, but it was hard to tell through the smeary bus windows.

  The bus exited the highway just past the tall buildings and went through a warehouse district. As the light strengthened, Marny’s first impression of the city was gray. Cement and glass and shadows, but a blue sky waking up overhead. The top of the silver skyscraper suddenly caught fire, windows reflecting the flame of the rising sun.

  With a lurch and squeal of brakes, the bus pulled into a dingy-looking station. The guy across the aisle woke and scrubbed his tired-looking face with his hands. The kid in front of Marny closed his tablet, grabbed his backpack, and was the first one off the bus.

  Marny waited. No point in squeezing herself up the aisle when a little patience would make it simple to walk freely off the vehicle. Under her feet, she felt the clunk of the luggage compartments being opened.

  The last passenger other than Marny, a frail old lady, got up from her seat. She struggled to reach her flower-decorated case in the overhead rack.

  “Let me help you,” Marny said.

  One-handed, she snagged the case. It was heavier than it looked, but she was strong.

  “Oh, thank you.” The woman blinked watery blue eyes at her.

  “I’ll just carry this out for you, okay?”

  The thing was wretched heavy for an old lady to handle, and Marny didn’t want to be stuck behind the woman as she lugged her case up the aisle.

  The tedium of the long bus ride was done. Now that she was finally in Newpoint, she was eager to take the next step of her adventure. She’d been patient, but the fresh dawn air called to her.

  The woman still moved excruciatingly slowly, gripping the back of every seat as she traversed the length of the bus, but at last she hobbled down the stairs. Marny practically leaped off the bus and set the flowered case beside the old lady.

  “Here you go.”

  “You are a dear child.” The woman patted Marny’s hand, then turned away as a middle-aged man greeted her.

  The crowd was thinning, most of the passengers grabbing their luggage or already gone. A single duffel bag stood on the stained concrete beside the bus, but it wasn’t hers. Marny ducked, peering into the luggage compartments for her bag. Completely empty.

  Irritation tightening her chest, she strode around to the other side of the bus. Those compartments had also been cleared out.

  The bus driver lingered by the front of the bus, suckin
g on a vapor stick.

  “Hey,” Marny said. “My bag’s missing.”

  “That’s not it?” He gestured to the black duffel bag.

  “No. I mean, I have a duffel, but it’s green, and a little bigger than that.”

  The driver frowned. “Looks like somebody took yours off accidentally. Maybe when we stopped in Nelco—lots of traffic there.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do?” Everything she needed was in her duffel: the new clothes Jennet had helped her buy, all her toiletries, her pillow from home.

  The driver took one last puff, then tucked his stick in his pocket. “Go to the office over there, give ’em your contact info. Your bag’ll show up.”

  She hoped so. All she had in her backpack was her tablet and charger, her messager, her new jacket, and the small loaf of coconut bread her mom had thrust at her as she left.

  Marny went over to the office window the driver had indicated, glancing around for her Intertech liaison. The station had emptied out, and she didn’t see anyone who seemed obviously there to pick her up. Maybe they were running late—city traffic or something.

  After leaving her messager number and Intertech details with the bored-looking woman in the office, Marny settled on a nearby bench. The metal was cold against her jean-clad legs, but she didn’t care. She glanced around once more, but the only person even looking her way was a scruffy old guy wrapped in blankets in a nearby doorway. With a silent sigh, she pulled out her messager.

  Intertech had given her a few contacts, and she scrolled through until she found the number for Brenna Dalton, the intern liaison.

  :Hello,: she typed. :This is Marny Fanalua. I’m at the Newpoint downtown bus station. What’s the best way to get to Intertech from here?:

  There was no immediate answer. Marny glanced at the time readout glowing on the plain gray wall. Six thirty-three, Sunday morning.

  She yawned, then grimaced at the taste of exhaust fumes and stale vapor. Surely she could find a better place to wait than the cold and empty bus station. She stuck her messager in her jeans pocket so she could answer as soon as it rang, then pulled her jacket out of her pack. Jennet had made her buy it, insisting that the bright scarlet looked great on Marny. Maybe so, but what Marny liked best was the soft fleecy lining. She buttoned it up, then slung her backpack over one shoulder and stepped out onto the street.

  “Got any spare coin?” the blanket-wrapped man asked from his doorway. His voice was scratchy, and he smelled like he was in dire need of a bath.

  “Sorry,” Marny said.

  “Eh, right.” He scowled at her.

  “No, honestly.” She went to stand in front of him. “I just got here, and I don’t have anything, not even my luggage. I’d help you out if I could.”

  The man’s glare faded, but he was still frowning.

  “Really,” she continued. “Are you here every day? I could come back and—”

  “Go away.” He flapped a grimy hand at her. “You’ll do just fine in this city. Now leave me alone.”

  Dissed by a homeless guy. It would make Tam laugh when she told him the story. In fact, it was pretty funny in the moment, too. Smiling a little, Marny turned away.

  Then caught her breath at the scale of the buildings. She stood at the bottom of a canyon made of skyscrapers, so tall they felt like they were leaning in on her. A scrap of pale blue sky shone way overhead, but chilly night shadows still clung to the streets.

  Even at this hour there was traffic; mostly yellow grav-taxis zipping around, and a long city bus that roared off down the street. A woman on a bicycle sailed past, her blue scarf fluttering in the breeze.

  Newpoint. The city.

  Despite the scratchy sleeplessness under her skin and her dismay at not having her luggage, a bubble of joy percolated up inside Marny. She was here, in the middle of a real adventure that she could smell and taste and feel.

  Chin up, she strode down the street. The block ahead seemed full of stores and restaurants, from the look of the colorful animated signs and advertising flags set out. Although she didn’t have any spare cash in her pockets, the card in her wallet certainly had enough credits for a hot drink, at the very least.

  Of the two coffee shops, one had a line out the door. Marny joined it, then pulled her messager out and checked, just in case. Nothing incoming.

  Guess she had time to drink a nice big cup of tea, maybe have a scone or pastry, before she tackled whatever came next.

  As the line shuffled forward, Marny people-watched. She was used to some diversity in Crestview, so the range of skin tones and features didn’t throw her, but she sure wasn’t used to such a well-dressed array. They almost made her feel self-conscious in her canvas high-tops and worn jeans, but her new jacket carried her through. Not that she cared that much what random city dwellers thought of her.

  Still, it was interesting. Jennet was the only person she knew who made a production over looking good before she left the house, but it seemed like that was normal in the city. At least judging by the tall man with a fancy necktie, the lady with carefully applied makeup, the girl with a costume made of lace and leather, and the overall polished look of everyone else in the line.

  Marny surreptitiously watched as she got closer to the counter. About a third of the customers were paying by waving their wrist-chip over the scanner, instead of by card or cash. It didn’t seem to be a big deal either way. Not like Crestview, where the elite rich folks wore their chips like badges of honor and stayed together in tight cliques.

  Or maybe that was just high school.

  And to be honest, Jennet had a wrist-chip and was friends with Marny. Not to mention that Tam was of even lower social status, having grown up in the Exe. Maybe things changed as people got more mature. Or maybe Crestview was just that provincial.

  When she got to the counter, Marny ordered a large black tea and one of the apricot scones displayed in the pastry case. She blinked a little at the cost, and scanned her card. Good thing she’d made some extra creds, or she’d go broke in a week. Things in Newpoint were seriously expensive. She could buy an entire meal back home on the amount she’d just dropped for tea and a small bakery item.

  The shop was jammed with people, and Marny didn’t feel like wedging herself against the stand-up counter. She poured a liberal amount of soy milk in her tea, glad to see they had that option (unlike most of the cafes in Crestview), and tucked her wrapped-up scone in her coat pocket.

  Maybe there was a park nearby where she could settle and enjoy her breakfast.

  Two more blocks into the heart of downtown she found a cement sculpture garden, complete with a splashing fountain. Plasmetal benches ringed the fountain. She settled on one, then nearly got drenched from sitting too close to where the random jets of water sprayed up. Quickly, she scooted to a drier spot.

  The expensive scone was delicious, and the tea tasted nice and strong. Feeling warm, she sat for a moment and watched the sunlight slide slowly down the face of the building in front of her. The bottom was still in shadow, though, and would be all day, judging from the angle of the light coming between the skyscrapers. It was weird to think that some parts of the city never got direct sun.

  A guy jogging with a rotund bulldog paused at the edge of the fountain.

  “Go get ’em, Pancho,” he said, unsnapping the leash.

  With a joyful bark, the dog barreled into the middle of the fountain, dashing from one spurt of water to the next. Whenever a new squirt came up, Pancho would leap on it, snapping at the spray—but somehow the water always got away. Marny watched for a while, amused, until her messager pinged.

  She pulled it out of her pocket to see that Intertech’s liaison, Brenna Dalton, was finally responding.

  :Hey, so sorry. Thought you were in at pm. Take a cab to Intertech building and will reimburse.:

  :Okay,: Marny sent back.

  :Ping me when you get downstairs.:

  Marny found a trash receptacle—or more accurately, a composting
station—to dispose of her cup and scone wrapper. Another thing Crestview didn’t have, though word was the city was trying to go greener. At least people there recycled, unlike some places she’d heard of.

  The street beside the sculpture park seemed busy enough to hail a cab. She hoped. Standing at the curb, she raised her arm and tried to make eye contact with the drivers. It didn’t take long for one of the little yellow grav-cars to pull over beside her and the door to slide open.

  “Where to?” the driver asked, his English heavily accented.

  “The Intertech building,” Marny said.

  “Okay. Scan.” The driver pointed to the scanner mounted between the seats.

  Marny climbed in and scanned her card, and a holographic display popped up, showing “5.25.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Passenger charge. Standard fee.”

  It cost over five credits just to get into a cab? She was glad Intertech was picking up the bill.

  “All in?” the driver asked.

  Marny set her pack on the seat beside her and belted up. “Yep.”

  Barely looking at the traffic behind him, he pulled out into the street. Horns blared, and Marny braced herself for the crunch of plasmetal.

  The driver grinned at her in the mirror. “No worry. I never get hit.”

  There’s always a first time. But she didn’t say it aloud.

  As they went down the block, the fare readout continued to climb. When the cab stopped at a light, Marny leaned forward.

  “How far is it to Intertech?”

  “One more street,” he said with a big smile.

  “Are you kidding me? I could have walked.”

  “Maybe you leg hurt.” He shrugged. “I don’t ask why people take cab, I just drive.”

  The light changed, and he zipped forward, cutting across two lanes of cars. Marny took a deep breath. Even Roy Lassiter didn’t drive so carelessly.

  “We here,” the driver said, coming to a sharp halt before an enormously tall silver building.

  Marny grabbed her pack to keep it from sliding off the seat and glanced at the readout. The total fare was a little over eight credits. Robbery. Next time she’d do a little more research—like looking at a map—before jumping into a grav-taxi because somebody told her to.