by Lan Chan
All around us, the occupants of the building went about their nightly rituals. Televisions blared their contents of game shows and gunfights. Babies cried. Water ran. Pots and pans crashed. All through walls that must have been paper thin. I stepped past the doorway. The smell that smothered me on the other side made my eyes water.
“What is that?” I said, pinching my nostrils shut.
“Dinner,” she said.
“Before or after someone threw it up?”
She gave me her first genuine grin. It made me realise she was missing two of her bottom front teeth. She was too old to be teething.
“How old are you?” I asked.
She counted on her fingers and held up five on one hand and four on the other. Nine. She looked seven at best. I was scowling when she opened the door to her house.
“Daisy?” a woman’s voice called from behind a shower curtain on the other side of the room. A dark-skinned hand caught the side of the curtain. The owner lost her vigour before she could push the curtain back.
“Yeah, Mama.” Daisy switched from English to Tamil. I picked up snippets of what she was saying from the three months I lived in Colombo, but she spoke so quickly I soon got confused.
Her mother answered back and then she was overcome with a bout of coughing. I didn’t know where to stand. The apartment, if you could call it that, was a room the size of my bedroom. There was only one actual door which I assumed led to the bathroom. The rest was open-plan. I could have lapped the house in twenty paces. At least it was clean. The scent of cardamom and nutmeg spiced the air. It helped to mask the stink of the hallway.
Daisy raced to the sink to fill a glass of water. She had taken her shoes off as she stepped off the mat inside the door. Her bare feet crept across the apartment. She drew back the curtain and climbed onto the bed.
I stood leaned up against the door like a sentry with a stick up my butt. There were two pairs of adult male-sized slippers next to the mat. The woman in the bed was in her mid-thirties. The bump in her stomach stood out in stark relief to the collar bones protruding from her dressing gown. Her black eyes settled on me and grew wide. She sipped the water. A sheen of sweat grew on her brow.
When she’d had all she could stomach, Daisy helped her lay back against the pillow, smoothing the hair matted around her face.
“Look, Mama,” Daisy said. She showed her mum the hundred-dollar chip. If I’d bet a hundred dollars on her mother’s reaction, I would have lost it. The woman broke down in savage weeping.
“Give it back.” Her voice was hoarse. “You know we can’t just take things. They will find out.”
Daisy withered. But it didn’t stop her from tiptoeing lightly to the countertop next to the sink. She scooped rice from the small rice cooker into a bowl. She ladled curry with what I could see were chunks of potato and carrot on top of the rice. I thought she was going to take it to her mum for a second. Instead, she pointed me to the little fold-out table positioned against the wall opposite the sink.
Suddenly, I wasn’t that hungry. “I can’t,” I said, feeling my throat catch.
“Just do it!”
If the food wasn’t precious, I had a feeling she would have slung the whole thing against the wall. Feeling bullied, I sat down on one of the plastic chairs. She set the bowl and a spoon in front of me and went to fill another glass of water.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked. She shook her head, but her eyes were devouring each grain of rice. When she sat down I pushed the bowl in front of her. “Go on.”
Folding her arms on the table, she let her chin sink onto them. “That’s not how this works,” she said. “No favours.”
“You’re already doing me another favour, remember?” I showed her the card again. Gingerly, she took it from my hands. Over her shoulder, her mum croaked.
“Who are you?” Her mum asked.
Finally! It was beginning to concern me that she was so sick a total stranger had walked into her home and she barely reacted.
Daisy turned around in her chair. If she reached out, she could touch her mother’s head. “This is my friend,” she said. “She helped me get the chip.”
Aw man. I wish she hadn’t said that. Her mum glared at me through watery eyes as though I was the devil incarnate.
“I’m Willow. I was just passing by. I actually need to get home.”
When I tried to get up, Daisy banged her palm flat on the table. “Daisy!” her mum said.
“Wait!” Daisy said. She showed her mum the card and they were off again in Tamil. The sight of the card jumpstarted Daisy’s mother. Suddenly, her voice had strength to it, but there was also anger.
“Where did you get this?” the woman said.
How much to incriminate myself? I shrugged. It wasn’t as though Dad or Aunt Jenny were going to show up here any time soon looking for explanations.
“It’s not the real thing. Belongs to someone I know,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Sriya.”
I nodded. “I’m looking for a Reader to tell me what it means.”
Daisy took the card back. She ran her finger over the king’s beard that had been drawn on.
“You don’t need a Reader,” Sriya said. She tried to get up. The effort proved too much for her. Daisy caught my eye. I nodded towards the bowl of curry. She wouldn’t take it for herself, but it wasn’t beyond her to acquiesce for her mother. Heaping curry and rice onto the spoon, Daisy pressed it to her mother’s lips. After a few mouthfuls, Sriya’s breathing was harsh again.
“Maybe we should let your mum sleep,” I said.
“The card,” Sriya said. I thought maybe she was talking about my card. Then she slipped her hand under the pillow beside her. When she reached out again, she produced another card. It was another king, except this time it was the king of spades. My jaw hit the floor.
Daisy took the other card. She hustled me out of the apartment and back outside. I was only too glad to get away from the claustrophobic atmosphere. When we were on the street again, I held out my hand for both cards.
Silently, she handed them over. “What are they?”
“Invitations,” She said.
“Invitations to what?”
She drew out a long breath that quivered. “Shadow boxing.”
Sonofabitch.
Before the Reset, humans had paid good money to see sideshows with freaks and dancing animals. Now there was shadow boxing.
I found myself trailing a finger over the knuckle of my left pinkie. Years ago, it was almost sheared off in one of the illegal rings in Vietnam. The EK had taken care of the physical scar, but the mental one would haunt me always.
“Isn’t Melbourne League territory?” I asked. The Shadow Boxing League was a Melbourne institution. It was a barbaric sport that pitted espers against each other for the amusement of the general public. If I wasn’t so sure it was rigged to make money, I would be very much against it.
“It’s not League sanctioned,” Daisy said. “They have nothing to do with it.” She leaned back against the waist-high chain-link fence. Well, it was waist-high for me. Her head barely came over the top of it.
“Then why is it run?” I asked.
“Because if you win, the Shadowman considers letting you join him as a foot soldier. Or you get money. A lot of money.”
Something occurred to me. “Why do you have a card?”
“They give them out every year at the beginning of the tournament. You have to register your interest with one of the foot soldiers. Anyone can enter but the further you get into the competition, the higher the stakes become.”
“How do you win? Is it the same system as the League? Knock out or by points awarded?”
She nodded, avoiding my gaze. “Sometimes, mistakes are made.” She swallowed hard.
“This sounds insane. Why would anyone consider doing it?” Then my eyes swept the impoverished landscape. I bit my lip. Sometimes, I opened my big mouth before my br
ain could catch up. Daisy turned and rested her chin on the chains.
“Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He’s at work. He picks up litter along the river and sells what he can to the stores.”
I played with my ear to give myself something to do. The water in the Yarra River was disgusting. It functioned as a toilet, shower, and garbage disposal to the Slums. I’m sure they were well aware. Only desperate people would consider wading through it. Especially since one of the recycling businesses was owned by the Shadowman. He had a claim on everything valuable that was found.
“But he’s going to enter.” I had no question about it. “At least tell me he’s tough.” I had little hope even as I said it. “He’s big, yeah? Like the guys who attacked you.”
She hooked her fingers into the links of the fence and rattled it. I didn’t realise she’d done it to cover up the sound of her tears. Her shoulders shook. When I patted her back, she shrugged me off. The only thing less appreciated than death down here was pity.
After a while, she blew her nose and wiped it on the back of her hand. “Why do you have a card?” she asked.
“I found it somewhere I shouldn’t have.”
“Why do you care what it means?” Her head was downcast. She glanced in the direction of my boots. They were sturdy, supple black leather boots with rubber soles. I’d bought them specifically because they had fantastic grip. I bet she’d never seen a new pair of shoes in her life.
“My mum’s gone missing,” I said. “The card is the only clue I have to her whereabouts.” Or so I thought. It occurred to me that the card could have meant nothing. A wild goose chase leading me into danger.
The answer seemed to satisfy her. “Your card isn’t real,” she said.
“How do you know?”
She held the two cards side by side and started to scratch at the corner of each with her thumbs. Her card peeled to reveal thin grey metal underneath. Mine tore. “There’s a small chip inside this one,” She held up the real thing. “It lets contestants inside the arena.”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters. No Academy. No Psi-Ops. No other Kings. You’re only allowed to compete after the foot soldiers check you out and clear you. When that happens, you get a card with a chip.” Interesting. Though it created more questions than it answered. Like how in the hell my straight-laced, Academy-contracted lawyer aunt, had managed to get her hands on contraband of that calibre? It also meant the Shadowman’s foot soldiers would know who they had given cards to. Dammit.
“But if you have money,” Daisy continued, “I can buy us special tickets because Dad is competing.” And that was when I realised she was playing me all along. She wanted to attend and I’d just broadcast that I had funding. She was wasted down here. In City Square, she might have been able to rise through the ranks and become something other than a street urchin. But I guess that was the point. The only reason she was alive at all was because she was tough.
“How much?”
“Two hundred each.”
Her face remained still as I gaped. “Are you serious? That’s more than an actual League match and they guarantee esper contestants!”
“I don’t make the rules.”
Four hundred dollars down the drain for the off-chance that I might be able to find out what happened to my mum. Was I really going to do it? We both knew the answer.
“Fine,” I said. “Come meet me in front of the Rendezvous Hotel at six o’clock tomorrow and I’ll give you the money.”
“That’s too late,” she said. “The match is tomorrow night.”
Bloody hell. I was running out of excuses to miss school. “All right. Ten in the morning then. Is that enough time for you to buy them?”
She nodded. “See you then.”
It was almost three in the morning by the time I slipped back into my bedroom window and crawled under the covers. Too psyched to sleep, my mind raced through all the scenarios and everything I needed to do in order to prepare. It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes when Dad knocked on the door to wake me for school.
7
Aunt Jenny dropped me off at the school gates. She caught me trying to discreetly yawn and rub my eyes. “You’re unusually tired.” She frowned. “You went to bed so early last night.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Everything okay?”
Thinking that it might possibly relieve me of the burden of going anywhere tonight, I tried to guilt her. “Not really,” I said. “I want to know where Mum went. I know Dad knows something. He’s taking it too well.”
“Maybe he’s not telling you for a reason,” she said.
“Maybe it’s not his decision to make.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her frown deepen. Despite me being able to read minds, Mum always made me try to read body language and facial expressions. She said that I couldn’t always rely on my telepathy. Dad was constantly telling me being an esper wasn’t everything. I’d never understood why until we moved in with Aunt Jenny. She didn’t raise her voice. She never lost her temper. And I never knew what she was thinking.
To be honest, it scared the hell out of me. If I couldn’t read her body language or her thoughts, where did that leave me?
“I know it’s not my place to say,” Jenny said, “and Rose would probably strangle me if she ever found out, but I think her leaving might be the best thing for you.”
“How can you say that?” I asked. Unlike hers, my voice raised an octave.
She reached out and touched my forehead. She ran a hand along the bone ridge where the skin puckered slightly on my brow. It was the only place on my body where I had visibly scarred. Dad had this theory that the EK helped my body heal faster. When I got hurt, I didn’t scar easily.
“William doesn’t speak about what Rose did to you while you were living in New China or Vietnam, but it was too much. It might have been acceptable over there, but it doesn’t change the fact that you got hurt. A lot.” She tapped the side of my cheek. “You’d better get inside before you’re late.”
Pretending to walk into the gates, I waved her off. When her car rounded the corner, I sprinted to one of the many fully-enclosed payphones around the block. Once they were almost extinct, but when the Tech Restriction Act became law, they returned with a vengeance. Owning a cell phone was a luxury and a privilege, not a right. The internet? Forget about it. As civilians, we had access to the most basic dial-up connections, and even then what we could access online was either official or educational. Nobody wanted a repeat of the Reset.
I called the school office pretending to be Jenny. After being put on to the school secretary, I told them I was sick in bed and that I wouldn’t be coming in. It was a good thing Jenny was always too busy to come to parent-teacher night. I didn’t know how much longer I could ride this gravy train. Then I ducked down and changed out of my uniform and into jeans and a black T-shirt. I stuffed the uniform into my backpack and caught the express bus that would take me into the city.
At ten to ten, I withdrew all the money in my bank account from an ATM and walked to the front of the Rendezvous. Daisy was already waiting for me. Passersby gave her funny looks. It didn’t occur to me until then that she should have been at school as well.
“Meet me in the underpass on King Street at midnight,” she said after I passed the cash over.
“Are you sure they’re going to let you in?” I asked.
“We should be okay as long as we have the right ticket. I think.”
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Shouldn’t you?”
“I’m the older one. I get to ask the questions.”
“I can’t leave my mum.”
And that was the kicker.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I tried to keep the hover drones from her until she disappeared from view. It was risky going back home but with Dad at the Psi-Q tests and Aunt Je
nny being a complete workaholic, I was free and clear to get in more sleep.
Both of them usually got home well after I was meant to be home from school. If mum were around, I never would have gotten away with this. She checked up on me constantly. That’s also how I know there’s more wrong than anyone wants to let on. It’s not because I miss her or anything. And I’m certainly not angry that after all her lectures about being careful, she just disappears.
My mood was dark when I snuck out of the house to meet Daisy. It got worse when I spotted her standing under one of the bridge columns with a man who was thin as a whip. His Adam’s apple was visible clear from across the other side of the street. This was going to be a suicide mission.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello. I’m Naveen, Daisy’s dad.” He shook my hand. His knuckles dug into my palm. When was the last time he had a decent meal? I turned to Daisy.
“Did you get the tickets?” She patted the top pocket of her jumper.
“Are you sure you should be coming with us?” I directed this at her dad. In the darkness, his eyes were hooded but I didn’t need the light to see the uncertainty in them. She reached out for his hand. His back straightened as though he’d taken a hit of liquid courage.
Out of curiosity, I tried to touch his mind with a probe. Zilch. He was a Basic. Trying not to let apprehension get the better of me, I followed them over the bridge to the casino.
From there we headed south through the Slums until the distance between street lights grew long. There were sections now where we were walking in relative darkness. I wrapped my arms around myself. My teeth grit as I willed the nightmare to stay away.
The drone flying overhead got too close, so I redirected it. When we neared a section of the Slums that almost bordered on the Docks, I ran into a wall of telepathic static. Naveen noticed me scratching at the base of my neck. He pointed upwards at the street lights surrounding what appeared to be an old canning factory.
“They’ve got anti-psi tech linked to the street lights,” he said. That was just great. I’d just pretty much given away that I was an esper. Not that Daisy didn’t already know.
