“How’s she doing, Freddie?”
“Sleeping. You okay, Ash? You don’t look so great. What happened to your ear?”
“Been a long day, Freddie. A long day. Hey, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“If it starts getting bad, the riots, whatever, let her out? Please?”
Freddie swivels his chair to look at me, concerned.
“I don’t know if I can ethically do that, Ash. Your mom needs treatment, and our facility is very secure. I think it would be better for her to stay in here if things become troubled.”
“Please. If it gets bad. I don’t want her dying in a cage. At least give her a chance.”
“I…”
“Thanks, Freddie. Tell her I love her when she wakes up. I gotta go.”
“Be safe, Ash.”
I reclaim my blade and exit the clinic. A small ding alerts me that my glasses have finished updating. I set off toward Kiro’s last address, hoping he hasn’t moved. I’ve given him space, even though he’s given nothing in return.
A tsunami of message alerts floods my vision. One from Sarah, the rest from Ham. I open Sarah’s.
<<Your brother’s been playing at Vlad’s. Thought you should know.>>
Shit. Vlad’s is IonSeal’s turf. Kiro, what the hell are you doing?
Swipe it closed, open the first message from Ham.
<<Hey, give me a buzz when you get this. We have to talk. Regarding our previous conversation. I’ve learned some things.>>
Swipe to the next one.
<<Need to talk to you please. It’s urgent.>>
A faster hand motion.
<<Message me.>>
Brushing messages away like cobwebs.
<<need talk. now. brand’s killers. rig.>>
<<ash. hoods. dad. not right.>>
<<ash trapped help>>
<<as19KLW #(72.2;1$@>>
The rest are indecipherable gibberish, a mishmash of text and symbols, each growing progressively shorter. I tap in Ham’s contact code, a private line through the global ’Net. Dangerous to use without a jammer, but there’s no choice. A connection opens.
<<>>
<<Ham?>>
I continue walking to Kiro’s address in Greentower, passing through deserted corridors. I ignore the moonlit spectacle of Glassbridge at midnight, like walking in a crystal tunnel between pillars of fire.
<<Ham!>>
My feet fall faster, boots clicking on the fish-patterned floor of Northspire. Inside the hoodie pockets, my fingers twitch nervously, uselessly.
<<…ash>>
The message flutters into vision like a wounded animal. I round a corner into Greentower, hanging agfarms draping the balconies outside in shrouds of mossy leaves, and take the stairs two at a time, leaden acid twisting my guts. My arms churn, fingers punching symbols into the uncaring air.
<<Ham! What’s going on?>>
<<help. dad. hoods. tried. warn. stop him>>
I round a corner and almost fall, his scattered words hitting me like gunshots. Steady myself against the railing, then keep climbing.
<<WHAT?! Stop who? What about the hoods? Are you okay?>>
<<dad. controlled. brand. gamecore.>>
<<Ham. Ham, answer me, are you okay?>>
<<forced. encounter. game.>>
I barrel out through the stairwell exit, almost sprinting down the hall toward Kiro’s room.
<<Ham!>>
<<ash help>>
Knock on his door, softly at first, then urgent, desperate, pounding, rattling the frame.
<<HAM!>>
I lean back and slam my foot against the door, once, twice, not caring how much noise I make. On the third kick, it crashes inward, hinges torn and ruined. I step over it and into Kiro’s room. Nothing moves.
<<Ham.>>
<<>>
I brush past the neatly organized desk, meticulously pruned bonsai tree trays squared up to its edges, dried needles carpeting their bases. Step over the row of free weights lining one wall, arranged in ascending order, the faintest layer of dust covering their bulging ends. All I can see is the carefully made bed, a small box sitting on its foot.
<<Ham… >>
The connection times out, signal lost. I reach down and pick up the cardboard container, refusing to acknowledge the all-too-familiar images of a gray haphood on its sides, cheerful marketing phrases encased in quotes underneath each graphic, its lid torn along the center line where cheap packing tape ripped the flap edges. I pull it open, knowing that the padded interior will be empty, yet feeling my knees buckle just the same. Cardboard bounces dully. The mattress is cool against my back, firm, the ceiling above dotted with carefully placed luminescent stars re-creating the constellations overhead.
My brother always loved the stars, ever since he was old enough to point up at them and laugh.
Frantically, I start searching the ’Net, using every trick I know, but it’s no use. He’s gone, both of them are gone, and I should let the girls know or Johnny or Jase but I’m so tired.…
The stars whirl above me.
Time passes.
I guess this is how the world ends. A broken connection, a casually opened package, a heart ripped out of your chest. I let my eyes slip shut.
21
[Penetration]
An insistent chirping. Sunlight beaming down overhead. Kiro toddling toward Dad on unsteady feet, laughing the whole time, treacherous drifts of sand threatening to topple him at every step. Gulls circle and dive into the rolling breakers, sometimes emerging with a needlefish, sometimes not. Mom waves from her stomach, stretched out on a faded towel. I wave back, feeling the salty breeze on my fingers. Windfarms creak in the distance, counterpoint to the jabbering birds.
The soaring cries grow harsher, shriller, Dad sweeping Kiro up into his arms and spinning him around, smiles on their faces outshining the sun, Mom laughing, high and pure, the gulls calling louder and louder—
“…sh! Ash!”
Reality slams back down around me, Kiro’s ceiling visible through my glasses, Jase’s voice in my ear, my body stiff and sore from sleeping half on the bed, half on the floor. Jase sounds terrified.
“Wha… what is it, Jase?”
“Oh jeez, I finally got through, you’re alive. Ash, where are you? Is everything okay?”
I drag a hand across my face.
“Am I… yes, Jase, I’m fine. I’m at Kiro’s.” Last night’s memories intrude, a gut punch of unwanted terror. Kiro. Ham. I force myself up. “Actually, I’m not fine. What’s the problem?”
“We thought you were dead. It’s almost noon, everyone’s at Johnny’s, we tried messaging you but you never answered and so I went to your room and tried your door and it wasn’t locked and you always leave it locked and you weren’t in there and—”
Of all the nights to forget to lock my door.
“It’s okay, Jase. It’s okay. I’ll be at Johnny’s in a few. I’ll meet you there. Let the others know. Sorry.”
I cut off the connection and look around blearily. The shell of my brother’s room surrounds me, his bonsai trees shedding another layer of dried needle carpet. The empty box yawns on the floor, and I drag my eyes away from it. Door’s still open—I’m lucky no one came in during the night. I check the time—11:57 a.m. This floor of Greentower must be relatively peaceful, my forcible entry aside. Probably why Kiro chose to live here. He never did like conflict.