Syd thought about Egan at the orphanage, protecting him. Or at school, sticking up for him, sticking by his side no matter what, consoling him when he needed it and goading him when he could handle it. Making him laugh whenever possible. And now Egan had killed a woman.
Syd looked at Egan on the horse in front of him, moving along the sweltering landscape on the narrow lip of the cliff, high red rocks on one side, scorched bone dry, and a steep drop to the other, nothing but air. One wrong step and the horses would plummet off the edge with their riders on their backs.
Egan had a river of sweat soaking his fancy club clothes. Syd realized that his friend hadn’t even changed since the night before at Arcadia. That explained why he had data lenses in—Egan always had the nicest stuff—but who was he talking to? Who could hack the zoo and let the animals out? Who would?
“Stay close to the cliff,” Egan called back to them.
“He didn’t exactly need to tell us that,” Knox snorted.
Overhead they heard the buzz of the drone tracking them. Syd wondered how far those things could fly from the city. How far would they fly, looking for him? He was just a Chapter 11 orphan from the Valve, a kid whose name wasn’t even his own. He was not some debtor messiah.
Knox must have been having a similar thought, because he flat out asked Syd, “So in all the years you had those birthmarks, you never thought of having them checked out by a doctor? You’d never had a blood test before my . . . accident?”
Syd grunted. He guessed Knox really knew nothing about life in the Valve. It wasn’t really his fault. Syd didn’t know much about life in the Upper City, after all, except what he saw in pirated holos. “I couldn’t afford to.”
“What are you talking about?” Knox shook his head, even though Syd couldn’t see him. “You could have gotten tons of credit. I had the best policy Xelon offered.”
“And I would have been tied to you forever,” Syd grumbled. “MediConsult bills add years of debt. There are men in the Valve in their seventies who are still in the system because they had their tonsils out when they were five. Even if all this never happened, you were making my life a hell.”
“A hell? Really?” Knox scoffed. “It wasn’t that bad. Paid for you to go school, right? And it’s not like I got in trouble all the time. Hell, I only got caught for half the stuff I pulled. You got off easy.”
“Easy?” Syd spurred the horse a little faster. “You call this easy?”
“Well, not this,” said Knox. “But before . . . I mean, you just didn’t take advantage of the arrangement. Some people know how to use debt, make it work for them. That’s, like, the first rule of business.”
“This the kind of stuff they teach in patron school?” Syd wondered, trying a bit of sarcasm for himself.
“Yes, it is, actually,” Knox answered. “We learn it before we can walk. The market’s in our blood. Survival of the fittest. Wield your resources like a knife.”
“The Valve’s the same way,” said Syd. “Except our knives aren’t metaphors.”
Knox pictured Egan with his bloody knife, the dead woman on the floor. No more metaphors. No more markets. He was a long way from the Upper City.
Out here, without datastreams or credit swaps, he wasn’t much more than a bag of blood and bones. What did he really have to offer? He didn’t even know how they were going to eat.
The thought of food made his stomach rumble.
“Your friend Egan knows more than he’s saying,” Knox announced, and Syd got the sense he was talking just to fill the silence. “I don’t trust him.”
“Uh-huh,” Syd grunted. He wasn’t going to let Knox in to his thoughts. Whatever Egan was up to was between him and Egan. He didn’t like Knox inserting himself into their friendship. He felt strangely possessive of his crazy, murderous friend. What was the old rule of economics? Scarcity creates value. Egan might be a killer and a drug addict, but he was Syd’s only friend.
“Listen, Syd, I can help you,” Knox said. “But you have to let me in. You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” Syd scoffed at him. “Why should I do that?”
“I told you. We’re on the same side,” Knox said. “I want you to get to the Rebooters as much as anyone.”
“Marie seems to want it pretty bad,” said Syd. “And Egan killed a woman to do it.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Knox let his voice trail off. He’d overestimated his charm.
“Relax,” Syd told him. “You don’t need to convince me. They’re both dangerous in their own ways. You should be careful. I don’t think either of them likes you much.”
“I can be dangerous.” Knox felt the sting to his pride. “Anyway, Marie’s just playing hard to get. She’ll come around. Although I think it might be you she’ll come around to. You see the way she looks at you? And we know she’s a total Causegirl. I bet she’d love to get with a proxy. You might want to give it a try.”
“I’m not looking for romance out here,” said Syd.
“You ever tried it with a girl?” Knox asked.
Syd ignored him.
“All right, you know what you like; that’s fine.” Knox let it go.
Syd spurred the horse faster and nearly bounced Knox off the back. Knox caught himself, but he had to smile. Syd was laughing. Maybe Knox had an ally after all.
Far off, Syd saw the stunning display of plateaus and buttes peeling off the desert floor, making purple silhouettes against the horizon. In the Valve, you couldn’t see much past the nearest shack or concrete slab of a building. Blast barriers and heaps of trash cut across any line of sight, making their own unnatural landscape. The great towers of the cruciplexes sometimes caught the light and glimmered purple, red, and gold for an instant, but the choking smog that made the Valve sunsets so spectacular burned the eyes and gave a daily reminder of the slow death in which you lived. The lack of life out here made the world seem so much bigger.
They wound their way along narrow trails all the way down into the canyon. The walls were great painted stripes of browns and yellows and reds. The river below had long ago dried up and taken all the life with it too, any trace of green. It left behind a long, barren gorge. No life could thrive out here. After the ice melted and the waters rose, after the wars and the fires and the plagues that collapsed the old civilizations, some people had tried to live out here. They couldn’t find food or water and they either died out or gave up and came as refugees to the city, begging for rescue. The corporations were glad to oblige, for a price. And that price was the debt that built the city, restored some kind of order to a corner of the world. The lifeless canyon had, in its way, given life to the city they’d left behind.
Knox wondered if he’d ever see it again.
Once they reached the bottom of the canyon and the cover of the high walls surrounded them, they stopped and hopped off their horses. The bandits passed around a skin pouch filled with water.
“Stay hydrated out here,” the woman said. “Dry air will kill you faster than you can say ransom.”
“Nice choice of words,” said Knox, taking the pouch from her. Syd watched him put it to his lips and tilt his head back.
“Ugh, this is disgusting.” Knox spat his out in a sizzling puddle on the hot canyon floor.
“Don’t waste water, kid!” the guy with the rocket launcher yelled. “We’ve got a hell of a long way through this desert before we’re through. You’ll dry out faster than your mother’s tit out here.”
Knox glared at the bandit, his nostrils flared, but he lifted the pouch to his lips again and took another hesitant sip, swallowing it this time, even as he gagged. What would his mother have thought about the company he was keeping now?
Syd guessed that Knox had never tasted unfiltered water before. He noticed Marie drinking hers greedily. Egan made eye contact with Syd and rolled his eyes. That was his cue. Maybe now he could find out what Egan was up to. He stepped over to his friend.
“What’s going on?” he whispered. “Who a
re these guys? And how’d you find me? I need some answers, brother.”
Egan scratched the back of his neck and leaned closer to Syd.
“They’re with the Maes crew,” said Egan. “Smugglers. They bring in half the syntholene in the city. They’ve got labs out here in the desert canyons where no one can find them. They know these canyons better than anybody.”
“But how do they know you?” Syd asked. Egan had been small-time back in the Valve. He wouldn’t run with a gang like Maes. Syd pictured Egan with the bloody knife; pictured the dead patron. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe that woman’s blood was the price of Egan’s initiation to the gang.
“When you disappeared from Arcadia last night,” Egan explained, “those Guardians came after me. They don’t miss a trick, so I knew I couldn’t go home, especially after I heard you’d kidnapped your patron. I mean, what are the chances? First time you go partying in ages and boom! You find your patron! And kidnap him? Who does that?”
Egan laughed, but Syd didn’t laugh with him.
“Right, anyway,” Egan continued. “I had to hide somewhere different, somewhere I’d never been before. Needed some lux cover and the only kind like that in Valve—”
“—is Maes,” Syd finished.
Egan nodded.
“That doesn’t explain finding me,” said Syd.
“That was all Maes,” said Egan. “He’s got contacts, big-time, executive types. A few texts, a little runaround, and he knew. Arranged the whole thing—the animal escape, the getaway, all of it, in, like, an hour.” He pulled the lenses out of his eyes, showed them to Syd. “Impressive, right? Guess these won’t do much out here. No receivers. A shame. They are lux!”
“Executive types?” Syd’s heartbeat raced. He thought of Knox’s father with his monsoon-green eyes peering from behind those dark glasses, the casual way he watched Marie’s proxy die. He was as brutal as any Valve crime lord; he just wore an expensive suit.
“The big shots fixed it all up for us,” Egan bragged.
“And they’re taking us to Old Detroit?”
“Wherever you want to go, friend.” Egan patted him on the back. “Although, I’m telling you, this thing with the Rebooters is crazy. They’re just a bunch of lunatics living in ruined factories, preaching some apocalyptic religion, praying for a debtor messiah who doesn’t exist.”
“The girl thinks they’re waiting for me. Mr. Baram too. They think I’m the—” Syd was embarrassed to say it out loud.
Egan shook his head. “I’ve known you since forever. I don’t get it. I mean, like, what’s so special about you? To anyone other than me. I mean.”
“I don’t know.” Syd looked at his feet. His friend was right, of course. It made no sense. He was just some slum kid with a virus in his blood. But what if that virus really could change the world? What if all he had to do was upload it? What if he had a destiny?
“I don’t mean to break your heart, pal, but think about it.” Egan put his hand on Syd’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make any sense. Baram’s just a religious nut and this girl . . . well, what the hell does some patron chick know?” Egan looked over at Marie. “Trust me. I’m looking out for you. Like always.”
“I understand, E, but I have to go to the Rebooters,” Syd explained. “No one else can keep me safe. These patrons’ parents want me dead at all costs.”
“You really think a bunch of terrorists will protect you?”
“I have to try.” Syd smirked, trying to cheer Egan up. “Anyway, maybe you’ll like it with them. Try a whole new kind of crime?”
“Oh, Syd, you gotta understand, no matter where you go, I can’t stay with you.”
“What?” Syd couldn’t believe it. Against all odds, he was back with his best friend and now he was hearing they’d be splitting up again, probably for good.
“I have a life back in the city,” Egan said. “I’ve got debts that need to be paid.”
“You mean, to Maes?” Syd asked. But he knew the answer already.
“This didn’t come cheap. I’m with them now,” said Egan.
“For me?”
“For you.” Egan smirked. “It’s almost like I’m your proxy now, huh? Suffering for your sins . . .”
Syd nodded. It was almost like that, but somehow, proxy just didn’t seem like the right word, not for this kind of debt. Egan was giving Syd back his life; he even seemed glad to do it. In times like these, you had to find somebody to trust. But looking at the Maes bandits with their executive connections and their practiced brutality, Syd had a sinking feeling that Egan had put his trust in the wrong people.
[35]
WHEN NIGHT FELL, THEY sat around a campfire tucked into a giant cave at the base of the canyon. Outside, the horses grunted and stomped and drank water from old stone troughs that smugglers had used for decades, centuries maybe. The smugglers’ trails were as ancient as they were secret.
It’d been a hard day’s ride, harder than any day Knox had ever known. His whole body ached; his skin stung from exposure to the raw desert sun and his lips were chapped and cracked. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days. He actually envied Syd the few hours he’d been unconscious on the floor of the transport on their way to the Valve.
If Nine and Simi could see me now, he thought. Raw and sore and stinking. Running with swampcats and bandits and murderers.
And Marie, the girl he’d killed.
He looked at her on the other side of the fire. She was chatting with one of the bandits, the woman. Maybe chatting was the wrong word. Girls in his school chatted. Marie and this criminal were having a discussion about the Cause.
“The system itself needs to change,” Marie told the woman. “It’s not enough just to do well for yourself; the whole thing needs to be torn down.”
“You noticed where you are, darling?” The bandit laughed. “There’s no system out here.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Marie was too earnest to notice the bandit was messing with her. Or maybe, she noticed but didn’t care. You had to admire her for her commitment. She was lecturing a murderer about social justice. “The system is everywhere. The nomads, the refugees, everyone exists to serve the few, even if they don’t know it. Even you.”
“Watch yourself,” the woman warned.
“Your existence gives the entire security apparatus a reason to exist,” she continued. “Without criminals, there’d be no need for violent enforcers to protect the property of a relatively few rich patrons.”
The woman laughed. “She’s got a point! Hey, I think we should pack it in. Turns out we’re working for relatively few rich patrons!”
One of the other Maes bandits laughed and poked his old sword into the embers of the fire. “I still haven’t gotten my paycheck from them!”
All three bandits cackled with laughter. Marie gritted her teeth, waited for the hilarity to pass. Knox figured it must be hard to take oneself so seriously. He wouldn’t really know, though. He’d never taken anything seriously.
“So why do you care so much, rich girl like you?” The woman tossed a ChemiFlame into the fire. It flared up briefly, blocking Knox’s view. “I mean, the things that happen in places like the Valve don’t touch you at all.”
“I have my reasons,” said Marie.
“Enlighten us,” the woman said.
“She saw her proxy die yesterday,” said Syd. “Leave her alone.”
“That it?” the woman smirked. “You ever meet this proxy of yours?”
“I never did,” said Marie.
“So you just feel bad a stranger died?” The woman grunted. “You feel bad for all the strangers out there dying? Out in the wastelands? Or even here? My friends there die in a flash flood in the canyons tomorrow, you gonna cry for them? If I get caught up by organ harvesters, you gonna grieve for me too?”
Marie looked around, saw that everyone was waiting for her to answer. She sat up straighter.
“Beatrice was my fault,” she said.
“That
the dead proxy?”
Marie nodded.
“Leave her alone,” Syd repeated.
“Then it’d also be your fault if we died out here, wouldn’t it?” said the woman. “I mean, you want to go Old Detroit, right? You want us to take this kid”—she pointed at Syd—“because you think he’s your debtor messiah. Somebody dies along the way, that’s your fault too, no?”
“I guess so,” said Marie.
“So you want to take on all the pain in the world.” The woman ran her hand through her hair and shook it out. “We got a word for that, girls who go looking for pain that don’t belong to them.”
“What’s that?” Marie asked.
“Glitched.”
The rest of the gang laughed at her. She just frowned until they were done. She had patience.
“Do you know the story of the Frog Prince?” she asked when they had quieted down.
“The fairy story?” The woman laughed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Do you know it?”
“Everyone knows it,” the woman said.
“I don’t,” Knox said quietly. Marie’s eyes snapped to him. His father had canceled all the “childish” datastream subscriptions after his mother died. His dad thought it’d help him grow up. The sooner he left childish things behind, the sooner he’d leave childhood pain behind. Too bad the past didn’t work like that. Knox had the pain, just not the childhood.
For a moment, Marie’s expression softened. She looked at Knox without all the scorn she’d been throwing his way with every glance since he’d tried—and failed—to kidnap her.
“I don’t know it either,” added Syd. That might have been the first thing he and Knox had in common.
“I don’t need to,” Egan grumbled, but Syd kicked him the ankle.
“Let her tell it,” he said.
Marie nodded and exhaled. “It’s about a beautiful princess who wanted for nothing and had not a care in the world,” Marie told them.
“Sounds familiar,” Knox grunted. He felt bad about saying it as soon as he saw Egan laugh. He did not want to entertain that knockoff.