Bryn
My neighbourhood looks like it always has, but fourteen years ago the people who made this neighbourhood a community were replaced. Who lived next door to me before? Had they a daughter like me? A son like Jonas?
In my room, I pull up the handful of memories Zipper shared with me at the school. It’d been a rough exchange, a sudden dump of nonsense, startling after enjoying the power of controlling exactly who and what got into my headspace. I’d shoved the download into a small virtual box in the back of my mind, tucked in beside the taste of oranges and how Chevette’s hand felt in mine, until I could untangle them in peace.
Something clued Jonas in, and I suspect it started in his memories. I pick a memory at random. It’s a tad patchy, the focus is all wrong, but it makes it easier to separate myself from the pre-teen mind of my brother.
Bee’s getting in the way, again. She needs a leash. I’m not going to be responsible if she wanders off. This memory is set out the front of our unit, but Jonas is focusing more on the three-foot irritation than his surroundings.
“Bee, stay on the steps,” I call as she grasps the railing and takes each step one at a time. She hesitates, looks back at me with her large brown eyes, and purposefully reaches out with one foot to tap the sidewalk. “Seriously?” I groan and she giggles, getting ready to make a run for it. I must be about three, and still too young to have a set of modes, but only just. Jonas must be about twelve.
“Oh, well.” I shrug and dig into my pocket, pulling out my secret weapon. “Guess more for me then.” I don’t move my head, but I can see Bee in my periphery hesitate, hand hovering over the railing, as she tries to see what I have in my hand without committing to climbing the steps again. Her curiosity wins as I knew it would. It’s strange seeing myself through his eyes. What three-year-old thoughts were bouncing around in my tiny head?
“I want to see!” Bee whines, climbing the stairs and reaching out grubby, pudgy fingers.
“Only if you promise to be good,” I say and wince, sounding like Mum, so I tickle Bee under her chin to make her squeal.
“I’ll be good!”
“Come here.” I scoop her into my arms, keeping my left hand tightly closed over my bribe, and settle her in my lap, trapping her giggling body with my arms until I’m satisfied there’s no way she’ll be escaping without my permission. “Ta da!” I reveal the hard-boiled lemon and honey lollipop, slightly fuzzy from being shoved in my pocket and leaving a sticky residue across my palm.
Bee claps her hands and I give the lollipop a quick lick, cleaning most of the lint off, before handing it to her, pleased I’ve managed to make her happy as well as ensuring her compliance and ability to sit still, at least until she’s finished. I try to study the people who’re walking past, but all I can focus on is that lollipop. I can taste it on my tongue, triggered by the tiny taste Jonas had gotten and thus me by default, dragging up an older memory of a sourness that settles in my throat and makes my tongue curl. It gives me hope my memories are still there, somewhere, like the residual taste of that lolly.
I tighten my arms around the content toddler in my lap, and pull up the last virtual overlay I’ve been working on. This one’s turning out to be pretty awesome, much better than Trev’s or Endi’s. They’re going to flip when they see how real mine looks, people disguised as monsters – sharp teeth, bloated heads and claws galore. The units on my street are crumbling cliffs, windows dark, pockmarked cavities and doorways shadowy caves draped with heavy white cobwebs. I want to add spiders, but the program’s useless with details.
“Done!” Bee screeches and flings her arms out wide, one little fist smacking beneath my nose and the other into my modes, sending them spinning down the steps and thankfully coming to rest just before the curb. It’s reflex to try and catch them, but Bee’s in the way and much as I want to drop her, I don’t.
“Glitch, Bee! I’ve half a mind to feed you to the Snaith!” As Jonas tosses my younger self onto a hip and almost gets a lollipop stick in his ear for his efforts, I can see our neighbourhood, including all our neighbours. Unfamiliar neighbours. This was before Ashville was purged and, as Jonas slips his modes on and his monster-themed overlay turns everyone into faceless creatures, I realise we’re still living in the house I’d grown up in. For some reason we’d been spared, and Jonas had somehow kept this memory. Maybe he had an external backup or it had been skipped during the mass deletion, but he must’ve noticed the discrepancies between his old neighbours and the new. Had my parents?
I slip from the memory and stand, stuffing Jonas’ notebook into a pocket, and searching for anything else that would be useful. I need things like rope, a torch, a first aid kit, the stuff people take on quests, but I can only find one Band-Aid in the bottom of a drawer and a broken shoelace. I shove both in with the notebook. They could come in handy. Random items always do in stories. I strap on Truthseeker and stand tall, feeling as equipped as I’ll ever be.
Before I leave, I enter the Cyberinth meeting place Rayburn had constructed and send out a ping for him to join me, hoping he’s here. It’s a pretty basic realm, the size of a doctor’s waiting room with flower print carpet, distinctive orange wallpaper, and a row of hard plastic chairs along one wall. Opposite is a corkboard for virtual messages. There’s nothing new so I pin a note of my own.
As I exit the Cyberinth, I hear the front door open and my mothers’ voices. I run into them in the kitchen, kissing.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I must’ve made a noise because they leap apart, lips wet and red, and doing their best to not look like they’ve been sucking face.
“Bryn, we didn’t realise you were home,” Mum smiles, smoothing her short bob back into place. “Would you like me to make you a drink? I’m about to make some tea.”
Sure you were.
“Ashville.” I drop the word like the nuclear bomb it is, and the colour drains from Mom’s face while Mum slams the cupboard shut with a surprised bang.
“We don’t …” “What do you …” they both start.
“Don’t. I know, okay? I know all about it.” Their mouths snap shut in unison. “I want to know what you did. Why were we spared?”
Mum sends a look to Mom, probably combined with a private message.
“It’s best you forget all about this,” Mum says.
“I’ve got to know. I won’t tell anyone,” I lie. “It’s driving me insane and once I know, I’ll leave it alone. Promise.” I’m expecting Mum to break first. She’s never liked conflict, and it isn’t hard to get my way, but it’s Mom who speaks.
“I don’t know what you think you know, Bryn,” Mom says, an edge to her voice, an edge she’s always kept just for me. As if she blames me for something.
“I know fourteen years ago Coleridge Place was called Ashville and a whole neighbourhood of people was cleared to make more space. Except for us.”
“Except for us,” Mom confirms. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
I shake my head and she sighs, grabbing Mum’s hand for support, or to include her in her crimes.
“Right then.” She hesitates and I wait, afraid she’ll change her mind. “I was asked to begin surveying for the clearance of Ashville.” Each word is clipped, as if she’s long separated herself from their meaning. “It took four long years, and you have to believe me when I say it was hard. Surveying the neighbourhood and knowing what was planned … but in return we were rewarded.”
“What could be worth the lives of hundreds of people?” I cry, shrugging away from Mum’s outstretched hand and bumping up against the doorway. “What could be worth Jonas’s life to keep it secret?”
“Jonas? Is he a friend of yours?” Mum asks, but I wave her words away. Of course they don’t remember. I don’t remember, yet the heavy weight sitting on my chest makes me hope a part of me still does.
“Tell me the truth,” I hiss, jaw trembling.
“Bryn …” Mum whispers, but Mom shakes her head at her, lips a familiar firm line. While I could’ve gotten Mum to tell me, there’s no way she will with Mom here.
“I’m your daughter. I’ve the right to know,” I plead.
“Please, Bryn, just leave it alone,” Mom says.
I slam my fist against the wall, letting out a feral roar, and storm out, eyes burning. A niggling fear makes me run. I’ve always liked puzzles, and it isn’t hard to see where the pieces are falling. Fourteen years ago Ashville was destroyed. Four years before, my Mom begins preparations for its destruction. Eighteen years ago, I was commissioned, the second child to a family that shouldn’t have had the privilege.
The front door bangs behind me as I take off towards the Core. When my modes ping, I’m so flustered I answer without even checking to see who it is.
Bryn? Oh, glitch, Bryn, it’s … I don’t …
Lenora? What’s wrong? I can hear the bustle of trams in the background and the mumbling of voices, people going about their business ignoring or unaware that the station’s hottest young star is having a breakdown on the sidewalk. The girl takes a deep breath and when she speaks, she sounds more herself.
I’m being Evicted. My father’s Evicting me. What am I going to do?
Okay, take a deep breath. Slowly now, in and out. I breathe too, sending her the feeling of inhaling through my nose, my lungs filling and then pressing the air slowly between my lips until I’m empty. Come find me. I’m heading to Greyson’s lab on Level Eight. Meet me at the Level Eight lifts. We’ll look after you, okay? We won’t let you be forgotten.
We?
You’re famous, Lenora. Everyone loves you so tell us what’s going on. Get everyone talking about it, and about you. Then there’s no way they can Evict you.
Alright, she says, resolve transforming her into the confident young woman I’ve always envied. Thank you, Bryn. I’ll see you soon.
It’s good being needed again.
Bryn, you there? Greyson asks.
Lenora’s being Evicted. We’re heading your way.
I’m close with Pa’s invention.
Thank sky. We’ll see you soon.
When I reach Level Eight, I hover by the Core, hoping to catch Lenora as she gets off. Already the crowds are showing signs of anxiety as Lenora’s message is shared.
The longer I wait, the more nervous I get, and then I see a Mediator. Then three. Then another by the District Eight School, its playground more concrete than grass. They aren’t hard to spot. Mediators move a certain way, each movement carefully planned as often they’re moving between two worlds, what happens in reality mirroring that in the Cyberinth.
There’re an awful lot of Mediators about, I tell Greyson, doing my best to be invisible. I don’t think we’re going to make it to your lab.
I’ll get to you. Keep out of range, Greyson says. I bounce on my toes, hoping to catch sight of Lenora, but in the end it’s she who surprises me.
“Bryn!” she cries, shoving the hoodie from her face. She looks a mess. She’s been crying, face red and shiny, and her hair’s disheveled.
“Were you followed?” I ask, almost shouting to be heard, pulling her hood up to cover her hair. My fingertips brush against her cheeks and I blush, jerking away.
She shakes her head, but I still glance around at the Mediators. The closest two are standing by a noodle bar, but thankfully the cook is keeping them occupied with his constant stream of complaints, using his sleeve to wipe his fogged up modes and waving a ladle around as if it’s a weapon.
“Quick, this way,” I gesture and tug her down a busier passageway, the crowds surging close around us.
I see you. Greyson sends. Keep still, will you?
I stop us beside a sidewalk nail salon, the ground scattered with little horseshoe shaped clippings and the air heavy with the smell of acetone and varnish. I stand on my toes, trying to make out Greyson, until I spot his head bobbing above the crowd.
“Hey,” he signs as he joins us, nudging my shoulder. Two threadbare backpacks are slung over each shoulder and I automatically take one. It’s heavier than I expect. “It’s the invention,” he shouts an explanation to Lenora. “Well, Bryn’s got half. I’ve the other bit. Come on.” His back is hunched and Zipper’s eyes glitter from his hood like a gremlin hiding in a dark cupboard.
Greyson leads us past the salon and into a quieter snickleway, stopping in front of a hatch. I keep watch as he opens it. When Lenora hesitates, Greyson gives her a firm nudge and I follow her in, ensuring my sword doesn’t catch and pressing against the far wall so Greyson can fit. He tugs the hatch shut behind him, locking us in the darkness. Zipper proves quickly how useful her eyes are and, after a few moments of nervous fumbling, our own mode lights shine strongly.
“The lab’ll be safe,” Greyson says in the quieter space.
“Is it safe in here?” Lenora asks.
“Course,” Greyson beams back at us cockily.
That’s when the Snaith finds us.
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