The Sapphire Shadow

by James Wake

  Jackson glared at the woman’s right hand, black and skeletal and obviously a custom job.

  “I’ve only seen someone like you once before,” the young woman said, scanning Jackson up and down. “Did they do your whole body?”

  “How did you…?” Jackson started.

  “You practically clank when you move,” she said. “Come on. Roll up your sleeve. Please?”

  Ortega threw her a harsh glare. “Don’t waste our time. Are you disrespecting an officer of the law, young lady?”

  “Of course not, sir!” she said, throwing Jackson a mocking little salute. “Showing one of our brave veterans some appreciation, that’s all.”

  “Sure. Thanks,” Jackson said, grimacing. She pulled the transmitter out of her pocket and handed it over, bracing for the woman to try to take her hand.

  No such thing happened—the transmitter was too exciting. “Ooh, this is some quality work.” The girl held it up in her prosthetic hand, spinning her wrist a full 360. “Where did this come from?”

  “Nice try,” Ortega said. “What can you tell us about it?”

  “Nothing until I crack it open. One sec. Let me grab something.” She started to disappear through the back door.

  “Hang on,” Jackson said. “Leave it here.”

  “Geez, you guys are touchy.” She shrugged and put it on the one clear spot on the counter. “Actually, I think I have one out here…somewhere,” she said, digging around in a mess of boxes near the stool.

  Jackson shook her head. The kid on the stool hadn’t stopped staring at her the whole time. His hands were empty, though.

  “How long was the recovery period?” the girl asked, still digging. “Did you get to wear a rig too? Are you still on immunosuppressants, or did they taper you off?”

  “Just crack the damn thing,” Jackson said.

  “Fine, fine,” she said, pulling out something that looked like a set of crimpers but bulkier. She snapped it around the casing of the transmitter, sending up a tendril of smoke and adding a fresh whiff of melted plastic to the room.

  The case slid off. A small board was hidden inside, flat and blue and bristling with jam-packed components.

  “Wow,” she said. “Not a micrometer wasted. Whoever made this is a real artist, an absolute genius.”

  “Any clue who that might be?” Ortega said.

  She held it up in front of her eyes. “Gonna take me a bit to sort through all this. Leave it with me for a day or two and I’ll—”

  “No,” Jackson said, holding up a hand. “Scan it and get back to us.”

  The woman stiffened up, throwing a questioning look at Ortega. He shrugged and nodded.

  “Yes ma’am,” she said, throwing another salute. It only took her a few seconds of staring and turning the thing this way and that, the light in her pupils flickering as her implants scanned. “How are they holding up?”

  “Who?” Jackson said.

  “Not who, your implants,” she said, handing the transmitter back. “It must’ve been years now. Those trials were retired when I was in middle school.”

  Jackson took the transmitter and slammed it back in her vest pocket. “You have a license for that custom prosthetic?” she said, eyeballing the woman’s right hand.

  She smirked again. “Give me a minute and I can produce it.”

  Of course she could. “Never mind,” Jackson said, nodding at Ortega and making for the door.

  “Officer Jackson?”

  She stopped in the doorway. The small woman looked a bit different now. Not trying so hard to be a punk, for the moment.

  “Come back if you need to talk,” she said. “About treatment. I know some people.”

  Jackson’s mouth hung slightly open. She clicked it shut, leaving without so much as a nod.

  “What the hell was she on about?” Ortega said.

  “Nothing,” Jackson said. “Army lost a lot of money on me, that’s all.”

  * * *

  Nadia’s head had stopped swimming some time ago.

  She was alone in the women’s changing room, sitting on a bench and staring at herself in the mirror above the sink. The cold pack over her eye was slowly becoming a bag of lukewarm chemical sludge. She kept it there anyway. There was something very appealing about the pose, something romantic in the dull throb of her swollen eye and the crusty scab over her brow, sticky with gel.

  This is what happens, Tess. You talk about cutting off your arm, and this is what happens.

  Strange thoughts. Nadia had been sitting here far longer than necessary. Whether it was the punch to the face or that bite in her mind that came after…something was loose in her head.

  She was sure she hadn’t thought, more than a week ago now, to stab another human being. Had not consciously formed the thought, made the plan. It had just happened, as calm and deliberate as those other unbidden thoughts that latched on to her from time to time—yet here she was, pursuing violence as a craft. A hobby. Preposterous.

  Plunging the glass cutter into the man’s flesh had felt good, though. Part of her wanted to go home and slap Tess across the face, demand she put away any silly thoughts of removing the one “real” arm she had left. That might feel good as well. This bothered her.

  Through the groggy haze still lingering a bit, Nadia heard a door around the corner softly open and close. Voices. Two low voices. Carefully, her muscles creaking after the long rest, she stood up and snuck over to investigate.

  Brutus was huddled with the young blond instructor with the nasty glare. He had stripped half his armor off, wearing nothing but a sweat-drenched wife beater above the waist. The two of them were holding a hushed little conference. Hard to see around his bulky arms, but she could swear he was cradling the woman’s hands in his.

  Although she was close enough to hear them now, she couldn’t make out the words. It took her a moment to realize they were speaking in the language Valery spoke, whatever that was.

  Curious. Interesting. Cute.

  “Ahem,” Nadia said—actually said—no need to be too coy.

  They both jumped in place and turned to her. “Ah, Nadia!” Brutus said, his face just as dopey and jovial as before. He was handsome, Nadia would give him that; warm, dark eyes over a broad, flat nose, head and chin bristling with thick hair. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were still in here. How’s the eye?”

  She lifted the lukewarm pack.

  Brutus drew in a hissing breath. “Right, sorry. That’s a proper shine, yeah?”

  “Brutus, was it?” Nadia said.

  “Yes, miss, et tu I am.”

  Nadia ignored this. “This is the ladies’ room, is it not?”

  “Ah, well, there isn’t really a—”

  The blond woman elbowed him in the side.

  “Yes, right you are. Excuse me, ladies.”

  He showed himself out. Nadia had been expecting the woman to leave too, but she didn’t move.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” Nadia said.

  The woman didn’t react at all, only stared her down with that same disdainful glower Valery must have taught her. She truly was a younger version of the owner of the studio, same narrowed brown eyes, same aquiline nose, same dirty blond hair.

  “Uh…your name?” Nadia said slowly, suddenly realizing the woman might not speak English. She pointed to her own chest. “Nadia.” Before she could point to the woman, she got an answer.

  “I know who you are,” the woman said.

  “Ah.” Nadia tensed up a bit. It wasn’t impossible that she’d been recognized. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  “What are you doing here?” the woman said.

  “Learning to defend myself,” Nadia said, all practiced nonchalance. “Thank you for your help in class.”

  “Hmph.” Still staring her down, the woman raised her nose. “Polina Aleksandrovna,” she said,
giving a wry little curtsy.

  “Uh…”

  “‘Aleksa’ will do,” she said. “Whoever you are, Nadia, I wish your wounds quick mending.” She left without another word or look, leaving Nadia alone again.

  Language barriers. Sighing in relief, Nadia shook her head. It didn’t sound like the woman had recognized her after all. Always better that way.

  She changed and dragged herself out, back to the studio floor. It was empty now, just Valery and Aleksa there to give her silent waves good night. Nadia skipped the stairs, a small favor to her aching legs. The privacy of the elevator allowed her the mercy of slouching against the wall; the left side of her face still throbbed.

  The elevator stopped, but the doors didn’t open. Nadia dragged her eyes up to the panel, waiting for an ad. Instead a fanged cartoon cat face appeared, along with a line of text.

  oh, hello. didn’t see you there.

  Ignoring the protests from her knees, Nadia shot straight up. There, in the corner, she spotted a small camera housing.

  don’t worry. i’m a friend. a fan, even.

  The cat’s eyes changed to stars, for an instant.

  Nadia jabbed her finger on the display where the “Open Door” button normally would be. Nothing happened.

  i have a suggested course of action.

  “You must be mad if you think I’m taking suggestions,” Nadia said, narrowing her eyes at the camera.

  we’re all mad here.

  Nadia rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder she stayed standing. “Very droll. You can hear me then?”

  of course.

  “Let me out, please.”

  hear me out, please.

  She cocked one eyebrow at the camera. “There is no you. You’re an anonymous collection. Collective.”

  a very popular theory. a very sensible theory. a very incorrect theory.

  “Yes, very mysterious,” Nadia said. “Are you finished?”

  no.

  The elevator door opened. An empty hallway out to the lobby lay before her. The cat face changed, a sad, plaintive frown. Apologetic, even. Nadia had seen the face many times in the city, but never with any range of expression before.

  sorry. didn’t mean to be rude.

  Nadia didn’t move. She gripped the strap of her gym bag tightly, staring at the cat face on the elevator’s display. Waiting.

  “Well?” she said, after a long, long second of silence.

  your friend, ms. tanaka…

  “You leave her alone, whoever or whatever you are!”

  …has made some interesting discoveries. it is in your interest to pursue them.

  “I see,” Nadia said. “Is that all?”

  No response. The cat face disappeared, replaced by the elevator menu. Nadia stared for a few more seconds, still fuming. When she stalked into the lobby, she kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see a cat face in the monitors above the front desk or the billboard across the street.

  Nothing. Stepping outside into the cool night air. It helped somewhat. She was still on edge, though.

  Ms. Tanaka…

  “Hey!” a familiar voice called out.

  Nadia turned, wincing at her quick motion. “Tess?” she said. “Were you…waiting for me?”

  “Whoa!” Tess sprang up from where she had been leaning against a low brick wall, wrapped in her ever-present purple hoodie. This was the one with the vulgar slogan about hiding behind proxies. “What happened to your eye?”

  Nadia pulled the hood of her jacket down low over her face. “Nothing a bit of makeup can’t fix.”

  “You sure? You look super pissed.”

  “Tired, that’s all. Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, yeah! I did some research after you left,” Tess said, running over to Nadia’s scooter and hopping on the back. “Come on. I have to show you something!”

  Nadia stood and watched—she was surely a mess right now, far more than exhausted. And cold, wearing damp gym clothes with only a light jacket to ward off the night breeze. She wanted a hot shower and a long sleep and very little else.

  Tess turned around. “What’s wrong?”

  Interesting. Tess was giddy over whatever this was.

  “Nothing. It’s just strange to see you voluntarily being outside.”

  “It’s strange to see you voluntarily getting a black eye.”

  Touché.

  “The place is pretty close to here actually. You wanna walk?” Tess asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Nadia said, gesturing for her to get off the scooter. She popped the seat open, swapped her gym bag for a helmet, and shoved it into Tess’s hands. “Where are we going?”

  “Put these on.” Tess handed her a pair of black-framed glasses, similar to her own but with actual lenses.

  Nadia made a show of not wanting to put them on as she did so, then hopped onto her scooter and revved it to life. The street in front of her lit up; it was much clearer now, with HUD elements like she’d seen in the goggles popping into view. A beacon led her down the street.

  “This couldn’t wait until morning?” Nadia yelled over her shoulder.

  “Nope. It can’t actually.”

  Nadia pulled into the street, happy for an excuse to feel the wind on her face. It felt soothing. Brisk. Although her tender eye, puffy and pulsing with pain, was squeezed tightly against the wind.

  Tess didn’t grab her right away; she was trying to hold on to the seat. Nadia surged the scooter forward a bit faster than necessary, making Tess yelp and scramble behind her.

  There. Arms, one stiff and skeletal, wrapped tightly around her waist. Much better. Safer.

  Two turns and a short stretch of one block. They were dodging and weaving through traffic that lit up the night. Most cars still had wheels, too heavy for the jets her scooter was equipped with. Nadia slipped through, splitting lanes and skirting around self-driving vehicles, sending their collision alarms blaring.

  The beacon led her to a skyscraper, with a small plaque out front commemorating what once had been a city hall. Now it was the headquarters of LiFreq, a subsidiary of Bay Research, wholly owned by something else and on and on until you hit Auktoris Global Funds. Parking was easy, with long empty lanes available all around the building. Certainly less busy than the ever-shifting pickup/drop-off zones in front of all the major entrances.

  “What are we doing here?” Nadia said as she dismounted.

  “Just follow me.”

  Tess had scurried off with her helmet still on. Nadia followed, and did so happily, amused by all this. She cast another cautious glance behind her, but no cartoon cat stared back from any glass she could see.

  The lobby was still crowded at this hour. Tess scanned for two tickets to the observation deck. Last ride, closing in minutes. They had to actually print Nadia’s ticket from the machine, which earned a satisfying bit of grumbling from Tess.

  The elevator was empty except for the two of them.

  “Helmet,” Nadia said.

  “What? Oh.” Sheepishly Tess took it off and shook her messy hair out of her face.

  They rose, slowly, up and up. When the elevator doors opened, all the nighttime glory of the city lay stretched out before them.

  Nadia had been here before of course. Several times. Back when she was a child.

  “Let’s see,” Tess said, darting her eyes around, squinting at various angles of the skyline. “Over here, I think.”

  Nadia didn’t follow right away. She remembered it being packed up here—barely being able to move, much less see anything. Now she practically had the view to herself, and what a view it was: skyscrapers marched on and on—each one a lit-up screen all its own—until the skyline faded down into the dull glow of the city beyond. She could even see the seawalls and dikes in the distance, holding off the darkness of the ocean. Steel and concrete the only things keeping the cit
y from drowning.

  She knew what rose up behind her. Unable to stop herself, she turned and looked. Auktoris Global Headquarters loomed above, dwarfing even this tower. One hideous endless monolith of dark glass, so big that its base seemed to be made of other, lesser skyscrapers. The only building in the city not plastered in advertisements.

  She tore her eyes away, finding Tess leaning against the glass of a far wall. If Tess had found what she was looking for, she made no indication. Nadia didn’t rush her, didn’t say or do anything. She simply stared out over the city with Tess at her side, no Cheshire cat or Auktoris Global to bother her, if only for a moment.

  No stars. Just a sickly orange haze of the city lights reflected in the smog. Nadia couldn’t remember ever actually seeing stars.

  “This is quite the little date, Tess.” She snuggled up to Tess’s side, hanging a hand around her arm. “You certainly know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “Stop that,” Tess said, trying to shrug her off.

  Nadia held on. It was Tess’s still-human arm, alive and warm; she didn’t want to let it to go.

  “Watch,” Tess said, nodding at a building below them, a much shorter tower. “Seventeenth floor.”

  Nadia counted up. Nothing jumped out at her. Nothing but another row of windows.

  “Wait for it,” Tess urged her, before Nadia could say something snarky.

  She did. Nothing happened.

  “Stunning,” Nadia said, her tone blank.

  “Just wait,” Tess said. “Ugh. Maybe I have the wrong building. Hang on…”

  As Nadia waited, the wind howled against the glass outside, sharp and lonely.

  “There!”

  Lights flashed in the windows of the seventeenth floor. They made a strange rhythm, dimming and pulsing and running up and down the length of the building, almost in sequence.

  “What…?” Nadia said, watching the lights on the other floors grow dim. Before she could put more thought to words, the lights on the observation deck momentarily dimmed and flickered.

  “And look! Extra power lines,” Tess said, pointing at a loose spider’s web of cables crossing from the building across the chasm of the streets below. “Must have been added when they started.”