by Ramona Finn
“If the clans all want what they can get from the Empties, why meet there?”
He grins, and the scar on the side of his face seems to twist his mouth on one side. “Might as well meet at one of the places where every Rogue came from.”
I think about all the times I’ve traveled to the Empties—or to the Empties nearest the Tracker Clan. I’ve been searching for answers, but what if my answers are in the Glass Hall?
Suddenly, I’m eager to get to this place.
It seems the Empties are all alike.
Paths of hard blackness dusted by the wind cut between towering buildings of twisted metal. But I see why they call this place the Glass Hall. Everything seems to be made of glass. Dusty as it is, the glass still reflects back our images. The Rogues look like scavengers—skin clothing hangs ragged from their arms and legs. Dusty boots held together with plant twine cover their feet. Everyone’s hair is windblown and tangled. I stare at myself—how very long ago it was that I had on a smooth tunic from the Norm and was clean and pale?
All of it this is familiar to me, but these Empties are also different.
Metal still clings to spots, rusting and forgotten. Things that look like huge ATs sit here. The Empties of the Glass Hall have not been scavenged by the clans into complete emptiness.
We move slowly—we can only go as fast as our injured can move. Croc and Wolf help those who limp along. A few stare up at the towers around us as if they have never seen this place—and maybe they haven’t.
It seems to me that I see wonder and a touch of fear in almost everyone’s face—except for Wolf. He walks with his eyes straight ahead and his back stiff, as if he does not trust this place. I find it fascinating.
There is little sound—just the crunch of our boots on the sand and the debris. I search for drones or scabs, but it seems the AI has no use for any of the Empties.
We walk deeper into the Empties, and I begin to see differences. The Empties of the Glass Hall have no trees or plants. And it seems as we move deeper, there is more destruction. Instead of standing buildings, they seem to have fallen to their sides or to have become nothing but bare, twisted metal. I wonder if Dr. Constance Sig ever visited here. I can almost imagine her standing nearby, watching as we pass.
Of course, she can’t be. Dr. Sig has been dead a long time.
Wolf leads the way to a place where the ground slopes down and to a place where a rusted square of metal leads into the side of what looks like a square, gray mountain.
He motions for the clan to stop, and he steps forward and shouts, “We come to meet. To speak of our survival. The Tracker Clan comes to meet.”
I glance around. Who is he talking to?
The rusted metal opens—it is a door. I cannot see inside, it is too black, and no one comes out.
Wolf glances back at the clan and then gestures to the half-open door. “I’m going in to find Bird and Pike. After I come back, we’ll go in together as a clan.” His eyes flicker to me. He turns and then he’s gone inside. The metal clangs shut.
I glance around. At least I’m with the rest of the clan. Skye winds her hair around one finger. Alis is staring at the door and frowning, and so is Crow. It seems everyone is nervous—except for Croc, who is too busy making those who are hurt comfortable to notice. I go to help him give water to those who are not doing so well. I fear we may lose a few more before long due to their injuries.
I also keep glancing at that metal door. Why isn’t this Glass Hall made of glass? I find myself not wanting to go inside there—I keep thinking of the earth shaking and how it might do that again, and I do not want to be around ground that could fall on me then.
At last the metal creeks open again and Wolf walks out with Bird and Pike beside him. Those who sat down stand, and Croc and others start to ready to go inside. My heart is beating too fast. I glance at Wolf.
He comes to me and says, “Walk with me.”
I frown, but nod. The clan starts to file into the doorway, into the blackness. Glancing back, I wish we were going into a glass hall instead of under the ground again. My stomach drops and I fidget with the strap to the pouch that is slung over my shoulder.
Wolf does not say anything, just watches the others as they head through the door. Crow hesitates and glances at me, his eyebrows raised. I offer him a smile and a nod to encourage him to go on through with the others. Reluctantly, he does so.
Voice low, Wolf tells me, “Bird says tensions are high. It’s not just a couple of clans, all the other clans are here—all six. And four of them have lost their tunnels like we did.”
I frown. “The AI—the earth shaking.”
Wolf lifts a hand. “We can’t know for sure. Until more is known, remain silent.”
He heads inside. I realize I’ve clenched my jaw and I have to relax it. But I keep my lips pressed tight. Silent? How can I stay silent when everyone needs to be warned that the AI is planning to end this world?
Chapter Eight
Stepping into the darkness is worse than a connect. For a moment, there is no light and I stumble forward, almost running into a wall. I turn a corner and then another one. And then light begins to glow.
I follow the others. We climb down a stair and then another one and then another, and then I understand why this is called the Glass Hall.
The room is massive. It’s more than five times as large as the main room was in the old tunnels. The floor is a pale gray and the walls are colorless and clear. The walls are glass. In fact, everywhere there seems to be glass. Even high above, I look up and see glass that lets in light. I touch one wall and find it oddly warm and soft. I can press my hand into it and it bends but then springs back.
Looking around, some of the walls turn to a pale gray and enclose smaller rooms. It seems the glass can change to have color. It is almost like a living thing.
I also notice railings, just like those found on platforms for connects. Was this place once connected to the AI—a place where hacks were possible? Frowning, I hope not. Access to the AI also means the AI can access this place.
I reach for the railing closest to me, to touch it and see if it feels live, but Wolf calls out, “Lib.”
I jerk my hand back, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something bad. But I’m not. I just want to make sure everyone’s safe. But I wonder how this place is linked to the AI—and maybe to Dr. Sig?
Hurrying, I catch up to Wolf and fall into step just behind him. The rest of the Tracker Clam spreads out into the main room. As they do, I notice we are not the only clan here.
Four distinct groups of Rogues sprawl around the main room. Some groups seem larger—others are only about six or seven people. The different clans stand out due not so much to their faces, but what they wear.
One clan has feathers hanging from their shirts and long hair. Another has painted their skin red with what looks like clay or mud and seems to have shaved their heads, and I wonder if this is the Fighter Clan. Another group wears skins that have somehow been tanned as white as the walls in this room. The fourth wears clothes that look to be made of snake and lizard skins, for their shirts and pants rustle slightly.
Only four?
Are these all who would come, or are these the only clans left, along with the Tracker Clan?
As I glance at the different clan members, I notice they have a few things in common—dark skin and hard muscles. Several glance at Wolf—he seems even larger in this room—but more of them stare at me.
My face warms. I don’t like all these strangers watching me. I stand next to Wolf, but he nods over to where Alis and Skye sit at the back where the Tracker Clan is settling. I know he wants me to join them.
Skye shifts from side to side, seeming uncomfortable. Alis sits with her arms crossed and something that looks like fear in her eyes.
Wolf reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. I give him a nod and head over to sit next to Alis—Wolf must not want her causing trouble.
Wolf turns so he faces
the other four clans. In front of each group, one person stands—the clan leader, I assume. One of them is a tall woman with skin painted red and hair that is little more than stubble across her skull. Her eyes seem a startling green with flashes of gold. The other three men cross their arms and glance around, almost as if daring anyone to challenge them, but I don’t know why they’d think someone would.
Wolf lifts a hand and his deep voice echoes from the hard walls. “Tracker Clan lost our home and far too many of our clan, but not to drones or scabs. Not to other clans.” Wolf’s gaze darts to the clan with painted red skin and shorn hair. Wolf’s stare doesn’t linger long, but it leaves me certain that is the Fighter Clan. Wolf drops his hand to his side. “We lost everything to a shaking of the very earth.”
The leader of the feather-covered clan gives a rude snort. He looks only a little older than Wolf, but he is shorter and his skin looks made almost of leather. “What concern is this to other clans? The world shakes sometimes. We all know this.”
Wolf stiffens. “And is the Tracker Clan the only clan to feel the earth shake? Have you not felt it, too?”
The woman who seems to be leader of the Fighter Clan frowns and shrugs her shoulders. “What if we have, Wolf of the Tracker Clan?”
“The shaking was not natural. It was an attack that threatens all Rogues.”
For a moment, several of the leaders speak all at once, and then other clan members start to talk. The leader of the Fighter Clan barks out a laugh.
At that, Wolf holds up a hand and slowly others stop talking. Wolf drops his hand again. “Red Kite of the Fighter Clan, you have something to say?”
When she speaks, she sounds impatient and irritable. “The Fighter Clan is not under attack—no one dares come into our territory.”
Wolf’s eyes flash, but he only shakes his head. “Our true enemy is the AI. And the AI dares to go where it pleases.”
Red Kite’s eyes narrow. Her hand drops to a knife hilt on her belt and she looks ready to snarl something at Wolf. Before she can, the leader of the clan wearing snake skins asks, “What does the AI have to do with shaking ground?”
Wolf glances at the man. “That is a good question, Mountain of the Walking Tall Clan. The Tracker Clan knows this for we have been inside the Norm.” A few gasps and mutters travel around the room. Wolf ignores them. “The AI is changing the Norm and making it into a giant ship to leave this world—and destroy this world before it goes.”
There’s a long, strained silence, and then Red Kite barks out a laugh. More nervous laughter comes from her clan. Fists clenched, I want to get up and yell at them that they’re being stupid. But they aren’t the only ones. The other clans aren’t laughing outright, but some in the Walking Tall clan hide smiles behind their hands. Others just shake their heads with what looks to be disbelief.
Dread knots my stomach—if the other clans doubt us, they won’t help. How can we bring down the AI without their aid?
Wolf crosses his arms and his booming voices silences everyone. “Do you think Wolf of the Tracker Clan is a fool or stupid?”
The man wearing feathers on his skins lifts a hand. “Faun of the Sing-Song Clan would hear what else Wolf of the Tracker Clan has to say. Please, go on.”
Mountain of the Walking Tall clan folds his arms across his chest. “Wolf sounds ridiculous. This is a story to tell the young at night.”
The man wearing snake skin now lifts a hand. “Iguana of the Hills Clan would also hear what Wolf of the Tracker Clan has to say. We should at least honor him and hear him right.”
I glance around—it seems Iguana of the Hills Clan, the clan in snake skins, and Faun of the Sing-Song Clan, those who wear feathers, would hear Wolf’s words. But it is Red Kite of the Fighter Clan and Mountain of the Walking Tall Clan are still shaking their heads.
Iguana, who is perhaps the oldest man here, lets out a sigh, but gestures for Wolf to continue.
Wolf lifts his voice again. “Do you see the Barrow Clan here? The Fire Starter Clan? The Trade Clan? Where are they? We all know their tunnels were the deepest of all. We all know the AI has no love for Rogues.”
Red Kite slashes a hand in the air in front of her. “But why would the AI wish to destroy this earth? Why not just go and leave us behind?”
I’ve had enough. These people must either see the truth—or they will never help us. I stand and call out into the silence, “The AI is made of alien technology, fused within it. This has left it believing aliens will return and that when they do there must be no sign of life, otherwise humanity will be in danger of being hunted down by those aliens.” Wolf stiffens. Everyone seems to turn to stare at me. I stare back at them. “If you want to live, you’re going to have to help us stop the AI. And I can tell you now—ground shaking is just the first part of this. The AI has the power within the Norm to split this world as if it is a ripe fruit.”
Red Kite’s hand drops to her knife hilt again. Mountain and Iguana stare at me. But Eagle lifts his voice and asks, “How can you know this? How can you have been in the Norm? No Rogue has ever been in there.”
Pushing my shoulders back, I tell him, “Several Rogues have been in the Norm. We’ve met with the Rejects inside. We’ve seen the Techs—and I once was both a Tech and a Glitch. But now I’m Lib of the Tracker Clan and I tell you Wolf speaks the truth.”
The entire room seems to erupt into noise and Rogues jumping to their feet and shouting.
Chapter Nine
I want to clap my hands over my ears. Voices rise in anger and fear and a few of them are just shouting for everyone to sit down and be quiet. But no one is doing that. My own anger is still blazing inside me. I’m not sure any of these Rogues deserve to be saved. I sway against the noise and emotions filling the room, not really sure what to do now.
At least they all know.
I feel a tugging on my hand. Glancing down, I see Skye pulling on my fingers. She’s still seated. She doesn’t say anything—it’s not like she could be heard over the crowd anyway—but she pulls on my hand as if she wants me to sit down again and stop talking.
Too late for that.
Mountain is shouting and pointing an accusatory finger at Wolf as if this is somehow his fault. Iguana throws up his hands and turns his back on the others, but his clan—a small one—now stands and stares around them, looking braced for a fight.
Most of the Tracker Clan is standing as well. They’re shouting and waving their arms—but not against me. I can hear Crow loudly telling everyone else they’re idiots if they don’t believe me and Wolf. Croc is also on his feet, and so are a few of our injured. They’re defending Wolf—and me.
Wolf is still on his feet, his hands up, and telling others to calm. I don’t think anyone is listening to him. Not even his own clan.
Alis, like Skye, has remained seated and silent. When I glance at her, I can see she’s scared. Her eyes are wide and she keeps twisting the ends of her red hair.
One shout from Red Kite can be heard over all the other noise. “I’m supposed to take the word of some half-human…thing? A Tech…a Glitch?”
Half-human.
The words hit like a hard punch. I stand and turn until I can see Red Kite clearly. She jabs her bare knife blade at me. “How can you know so much? What are you?”
Slowly, the room goes silent. Heads turn toward me, but I keep staring at Red Kite—at those glittering green eyes and the clay flaking from her face and the way her body quivers but her knife hand holds steady. They must be waiting for my response, but I find I have nothing to say.
I don’t know what I am—not really.
The weight of my past—so much of it buried, just as the Tracker Clan tunnels were—sits on my chest like a huge slab of rock, until I struggle to breathe.
Wolf opens his mouth. Maybe he’ll defend me—or maybe he’ll just try to smooth things over. I don’t stay to find out—I don’t want to know the answer. Turning, I force myself to walk and keep walking, half blind to where I’m
going.
Wolf said my choices define me—well, I’m making a choice now. A choice to leave this place if I can.
It doesn’t take long for me to lose my way. Every room and hallway is either clear glass or white glass. It takes me time to slow my steps and stop walking blindly, turning down hallways just to turn down them. I stop and glance around. Why is this place so empty? So…sterile? This isn’t like any other place I’ve known—except it is. If the walls were blue, not white, this would be like the AI’s artificial world.
I start to walk again, but steps echo behind me, so I stop and turn. Alis and Skye turn the corner and stop. Alis crosses her arms. Red washes over her face. Skye shifts from one foot to the other. I motion at them to come with me. “Let’s go look around while it’s quiet.”
Skye and Alis share a look, but head over to follow me.
We pick our way down empty corridors, peaking into rooms that hold nothing. Every now and then we find a railing, but I shy away from touching them. I just want to walk and keep walking. I’m tired of the Rogues and their arguments.
“They’re a bunch of—” Alis begins, but before she can say something that is inevitably ugly and derogatory, Skye interrupts.
“They’re just scared. It’s hard when you’re dealing with something unfamiliar.”
I smile at her, at her calmness and her tolerance soothes.
“How much harder is it going to be when the AI leaves and wrecks this world?” Alis counters.
Skye runs her hand along one of the railings. She glances at her fingers. “Why isn’t it dusty in here?”
I lift a shoulder. “Does that matter?”
Alis snorts. “Of course it doesn’t. That mess we just left didn’t matter, either. Talk about a waste of time.”
