Lenora
MsDanikaStarburst moves me on after a spell, introducing me to guests who I greet by name, thanks to Hugo, and soon the whole hall is humming with likes and pings. I’m one of many sponsored hopefuls doing the rounds.
Lucinda Redmond (school rank 1,345) is a large girl, hands like shovels, yet she sits quietly in a well-lit alcove, knees pressed together and feet tucked beneath her chair while her fingers delicately craft the most exquisite jewellery made of recycled glass. Buyers surround her, so despite her low year-rank and even if she comes last she’ll already have a large following. The small smile on her face says the girl knows this, too.
Wallace (school rank 2) is standing atop a plinth. His lean body, sparkling smile, and clear complexion draw the eye and his sharp tongue has his admirers either awestruck or in stitches. He catches me looking from his perch and gives me a mocking bow, his grin boyish beneath sleek metallic modes. Hugo snorts beside me.
“Not sure there’s enough space up there for both him and his ego.”
Be nice. I’m sure I’m the only one to notice how his hands shake with every gesture. I send him an encouraging ping and he straightens, his shoulders relaxing, and his smile for a moment is truly genuine.
Kristofer Kram (school rank 54) is over talking to Mother. While most of the other men circulate in suits, Kristofer wears an uneven skirt of rough un-dyed cotton over a pair of cream tights, his shoes laced in a complicated pattern up his ankles. A long black, orange and cream scarf, draped over a white three-button shirt, is trailing on the ground.
“Someone’ll cry foul when they trip on it,” Hugo points out.
“Come now, my heart,” MsDanikaStarburst murmurs into my ear. “It is almost time for the performances.”
“Of course.” I bow and hurry into the quiet chaos of backstage.
Bryn
We don’t talk for a while. It’s as if the world before us is an illusion, something easily destroyed by words. I can’t take my eyes off the decaying planet we’ve left behind.
“How’d you find this place?” I finally ask.
“Accident. Purely by accident,” he says. I doubt that, remembering his plastic key. “As soon as I found it, I wanted to show you. Thought you’d like it.”
“Like it? This is fizzing!” I look down as far as I can. There’s a whole world down there. A world I’ve only seen in pictures. It’s probably just us, right at this moment, looking beyond our space station — maybe the only ones who’ve ever seen a real sunset in centuries! It’s like something has shifted inside me, as if my mind has blown outwards without the aid of modes, and yet I’ve never felt so small.
The darker it gets, the harder I press my face to the glass, the moon slipping to hide behind the station’s bulk, until I start back, surprised when I look into my own eyes. They aren’t green, like Jonas’s. They’re dark. As dark as my hair. And my skin is dark, too. Next to Jonas I’m a shadow to his brightness.
I cup my eyes against the window and struggle to see the Earth’s surface. There must’ve been some beacon on the hull of the Triumph, like an Olden Times lighthouse, because bursts of light punch through the darkness. In those glimpses I see thick clouds, the colour of bruises, and in gaps I can make out lights far, far above. Are there cities down there, full of people like me? The massive blades keeping the station aloft pass in front of us and I squirm to see past them as they spin by.
“Do you really think,” I begin, and hesitate. “We’re … that we’re not alone?”
“I hope we’re not.”
“But how could there be others? We haven’t heard from any of the other stations in over a century and, I mean, the world’s sick.” The words leave me queasy and I take a few steps back. Jonas goes quiet, face pale and eyes sad, and I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“Come on, Bee. Your surprise isn’t over yet.”
Greyson
I could spend an age poking around in Pa’s lab, but I’ve a fair hunger and when I suggest returning home for dinner, Ma’s relieved. She’s humming as she hovers over the stove, trying to figure if she’s got enough salt to add or not to the pot.
I’ve a contentment in just sitting, drawing circles on the tabletop with a fingertip, when a message for Ma arrives. Seems the alert chime’s finally ca-klunked it, so Ma doesn’t hear the noise. Across the icon’s a number, blazoned all in red and blinking harsh-like. Three. Three what? I glance at Ma before forwarding the whole lot to Zipper and deleting it from the desktop as Ma turns to give me a smile.
“I’ve some protein cubes! We can have a soup!”
I grin at her, “That’s brill, Ma!” and stand. “Mind giving me a sec?” I’m already heading for the door and tugging my modes down. She makes a shoo-shooing gesture and returns to her stock.
On the landing, I lean against the wall and Zipper leaps into my arms. I leave my light off and, in my dark kit, we’re invisible in the gloom.
It’s a notice, isn’t it? I say, and Zipper nods. I close my eyes and the message unfolds in my head like a scaremare, daunting and unstoppable.
It’s a final warning on our rent.
The notice is so polite! “Evicted.” The word tastes toxic-sick in my mouth. My mother, soft-spoken Ma, lied to me when she said she’d managed renting both the storage space and our apartment. Did she think she’d wish it all away? Zipper bumps her cold face against my chin and I open my eyes, blinking the notice print away, as if it’s smoke. Tomorrow, we’re going to be evicted from our unit and then where’re we going to stay?
Call the Airhead who sent it from Level 1, Zip.
As Zipper dials it in, I tap my boot, until a bland electronic voice harps that the lady isn’t able to be contacted at present.
“Damn!” I snap, my teeth grinding together as I cut the call. Was Ma going to tell me? I growl, pushing off from the wall and kicking the chain railing, making it rattle-swing.
She probably didn’t want to upset you.
Ma’s in the kitchen still. She’s fixing her hair into a skull-tight bun and tugging the hairnet in place.
“I’ve been called to work. Looks like some of the parties on Level Five have been bigger than expected and they need additional cleaners. It’s not even nine yet!” She sits at the table and pat-taps the chair beside her. “Dinner will have to wait, but how about we talk for a bit before I go?” Her chin trembles, and I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t checking for it. Beneath her modes she’s clear trying not to cry. She clearly knows tonight is our last night here.
“Yeah, I’ve this thing.” Guilt hollows me out as her shoulders slump ever so slight-like. “Be back real soon though.”
I’m out the door before I change my mind.
Bryn
So, Bee, ready for the rest of your surprise? Jonas asks, his smile lopsided.
Definitely! I send as I follow him into the darkness.
You going to share? Chevette’s words roll across my vision and I change my settings to subvocal.
Of course! It was amazing, and a little scary too. I double blink and send a brief snippet of memory without bothering to edit. My friends won’t mind the rough edges, but I check the ‘Property of Bryn Morgan’ is embedded deep in the recording. My friends are quiet as they fast-forward through the experience.
That’s unbelievable! Teo proclaims including a short vid of his mouth open, eyes wide, in what he believes is a look of astonishment.
Watch your head here, Jonas intrudes as he lifts some heavy cables out of my way.
Thanks. Where are we going? I ask. At the same time I ask my friends, how’re your parties?
Told you, it’s a surprise, Jonas says, and takes the lead up a ladder.
Harper sends me a memory of his folks and him at a fizzy restaurant on Level Three. He gives us a thumbs up over his meal, his arms and hands all we could see of him. His parents wave, so it must be live.
Stars, they must’ve booked that table before you were issued, I tell him and open Chevette’s and Teo’s links at the same time, easily watching both as I climb hand over hand up the ladder. It doesn’t take me long to get winded, despite all my virtual sword fights.
Chevette has altered her memory because there’s no way her parents have bought her a cake that big. As if it’s my own hand, I watch myself run a fingertip along the side of the cake-like substitute, gathering a large dollop of white icing. I bring it to my mouth and groan in pleasure as the sweet taste explodes on my tongue.
You alright, Bee? Jonas asks.
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Yeah. My arms hate me though.
Not much further.
Chevette’s memory ends before she’s taken a bite of the spongy chocolate cake.
It was amazing, she teases.
I had a cake, too! Teo says, but I’ve already lived his memory and he’d been more focused on his parents’ smiles than on the cake itself. His two dads and mum are so annoyingly proud of him. It isn’t hard to come of age. It happens whether you want it to or not.
I’m startled from the inside of my head when I almost run into Jonas, who’s reached the top of the ladder.
We’re on Level Three.
Umm, okay. What’s so interesting on Level Three? He pushes open a hatch and clambers through. I haul myself out after him. Legs and arms shaking, my modes adjust to street lighting and I dust off my bum. At least the dress is already greyish. Jonas removes a cobweb from my hair before giving me a once over.
“Good enough.” He unzips his suit and reaches inside, pulling out an honest to sky envelope. Inside is a blank card, folded in half.
“Well, go on, read it,” Jonas encourages. The card is smooth, one side lightly embossed in the shape of a sprouting seed, the station’s symbol.
I unfold it. Embedded in the paper are minuscule pieces of code my modes translate as fanfare and fireworks. It’s an invitation to the event of the year. Jonas has given me an invitation to the Activation Ball.
Lenora
No one speaks backstage. Aloud at least. The only sound is the dragging of heavy equipment along the concrete floors and the creak of shoes as people hurry about. I’m directed towards the head organiser, Call-me-Sheri, and she flicks me a program outline that has, quite likely, only been finalised hours earlier.
I’m competing last.
It’s the most desired spot of all, and I suspect MsDanikaStarburst has pulled some strings. I make a note to thank her profusely when I next see her live.
In the dressing room I find a spot to freshen up in front of the massive floor to ceiling mirrors along one wall, and I remove the rose, placing it out of harm’s way. The room is full of students, some dressed as formally as myself while others wear skintight black haptic suits. I adjust my holo-glamour so it gently hums, shimmering over my form like an aura.
Danyelle Corner, Sheri calls. I glance up, seeking out the plump teen from my music class. The girl almost runs into Wallace at the door and they silently apologise before he heads my way.
Phew, what a crowd! He’s stripping off his shirt and pants, leaving him in nothing but his tight, black underwear while he digs through a duffle bag of spare things. His shirt is soaked through with sweat.
When’s your time slot? I ask as he towels himself off. I’m admiring how his back muscles flex until Hugo steps between us, swatting at an errant ping that’s followed Wallace in.
In five minutes. Congratulations on the last spot! he smiles, then he yanks on a pair of dark grey slacks. As he pulls his shirt over his head, he sends me a personal message and I blink it open seeing a still shot of his beaming face and a link. He’s asking me out on a date. He glances at me shyly once his face is clear of his shirt and I nod delightedly. As children we’re rivals, but soon we’ll be adults and an alliance between us would be beneficial to us both.
Wallace Miller? Sheri calls. He takes a deep breath.
You’ll knock them dead out there, I encourage. Even though he’s gone quite pale, his smile is bright.
Yeah. Yeah, I will. See you later? he asks. I reply with a gentle affirmative and he practically swaggers out of the room.
Greyson
Where’re you going? Zipper asks, squirming from my arms and into my hood. Her chin digs into my right shoulder and I soothe a hand down her neck. I relax when she buzz-purrs.
Bones, I say and her purring stops.
Bones. Chaim Bones. There’s rumours about him. L8’s notorious self‑proclaimed leader. Some say he’s a disgraced politician, others a murderer. What I do know for sure is he’s the lowest ranking person in the entire station.
He’s also the wealthiest man in all of Triumph.
He trades favours and works the Grounder gambling rings, as well as in the Beneath Black Market, which I’ve heard now spreads under not only Cooper Point, but also Needlesworth and Bundy. He’s also fair easy to find.
Bone City is a self-made zone wedged between Echoes, Bakers and Ringwood, a neighbourhood over from mine. It’s tiny, a coin-sized tumour in someone’s brain, made up of only one street block. But it’s a fort. The windows and doors of the outer units are sealed tight and the only way in or out’s through a corridor.
I’m huff-puffing when I arrive and it isn’t surprising the place’s lit up like no one’s biz today of all days. The corridor’s lined with bones: flesh-heifers mainly, and bones I’m sure aren’t from anything real, all polished and shiny-like. I make eyes with a skull, its sockets shadowy above spikey-sharp teeth.
You sure about this? Zipper murmurs and hides deep in my jacket hood.
I got a choice?
I slip in by hanging back behind a group of hammerheads dressed in wrinkled white suits and jostling into one another as if they’ve only half dozen working limbs between them.
Bones has built himself a glitching castle. The neighbourhood block’s gutted, making a massive open space surrounded by towering walls, three apartments thick. There’s too much space, reaching far above my head like the streets on L3, and a massive light source floats up there like a mini white sun.
Can you sense that, Zip?
The blankness? He’s underground in a room on the northeast side, she answers.
A person who’s friendless is a bit like a blind spot. It’s empty, a hollow point, and the only way you can see it is by finding what isn’t there. I note a doorway guarded by a man built like a flesh-heifer, with no neck to speak of, and modes covering his entire head like an exo-skeleton.
Looks promising, I say. I spy the same well-dressed hammerheads I’d followed in lounging on a couple of sofas not far from where I want to be. Packaging up a couple of thought bombs – messages designed to piss off (an area I’ve a particular gift in) – I toss a handful at them and instantly they all go silent then get insanely loud. One shoves another. One picks up a chair and swings it. It’s not long before a fine old brawl’s underway and the guard gets curious. I dart inside and tumble-thump down a dozen stairs to another reinforced door.
There are two men in the next room, Zipper says. I pound-pound the door, twist and crouch. It flies open and the guards step through, confuzzled until they hear the noise upstairs. They’re quick to dash up and I’m through, closing the door behind me.
I’m in an antechamber, empty besides an interactive table with game pieces scattered across its screen. The door to the next room’s open, Bones inside.
Well, here’s nothing. I walk in, hands resting clear from my sides so no one suspects any funny business. When half a dozen gun-barrels are shoved in my face, I’ve second thoughts. And third and fourth.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” a voice rumbles. It’s some kind of signal. The men wearing black and waving heavy air rifles step back.
First thing about Chaim Bones is how hard it is to look at him. His lack of value almost makes him invisible, and I’m tempted to shove off my modes so I can watch him unhindered by the smoky lenses.
And he’s bitty. I mean, real bitty. He’d bare reach my shoulders if he stood on tiptoe. And his modes only cover one eye. The visible eye’s milky white and droops slight-like, yet it stares intent over my shoulder. I can’t help the shiv-shudder and he smiles, baring all his teeth.
“I hadn’t thought we’d meet so quickly. It’s a real fine pleasure.” He reaches out a pale hand and it’s second nature to stretch over the desk, awkward-like, to grasp his arm and shake in a typical Grounder greeting.
“You know me?” I ask.
“I’ve been watching you for some age, lad. How can I serve?” His voice dribbles charm.
Glitch, if I’m not careful, this guy’ll have me slinging in a noose of my own making.
“I’m Active today and I need a loan, sir.” I can be upfront too. And fair polite, when it’s called for.
I wait. And wait. I check the time subtle-like and stop my leg from impatient jiggling. Ma’ll be heading to work by now.
“So, my boy, how much do you want?” He doesn’t even ask what I need it for.
“2,000 credits. Just until midnight, then I’ll pay you back real square,” I say. I haven’t seen him blink that freak white eye once.
“That all?” he asks.
“Sir?”
“I’m fine to loan you the 2,000 credits. You take it right here, right now, sign the contract and your Activation allowance’ll auto pay it off come midnight. Or …” he pauses, dramatic-like. “I’ll lend you the 2,000 and pay you a bonus 2,000 if you agree to take on an teeny-tiny job for me.”
And here’s the catch, Zipper says. But an extra 2,000! That’ll cover rent for an age, easy-peasey!
“What kind of job?” I ask and the man leans forward, resting his forearms against his desk.
“A fact hunting one. You’ve proved you’re able to move about unseen, get into systems you got no right being in,” he says pointedly, and my face gets real warm. Did he mean how I got in to see him? Or does he know about the Mediators the other day? Someone’s obviously been watching me though. I’m only now realising how much trouble I’m in. “And this job’ll need both. You’ve heard of the Activation Ball, yes?”
Bryn
I’ve been up on Level Three a handful of times before, the highest level I’ve ever been able to visit. Once to see the Old Earth Museum, and sometimes I tag along with Jonas when he visits clients. The level shimmers; the buildings gleam, the lamps are as bright as stars and artificial fireflies flitter in all different shapes and letters amongst the leaves of straight-trunked trees. As I pass a particularly tall tree, the bugs spell out my name.
Show us what’s happening! Teo begs.
I attempt to stream live, but there’re far too many feeds filling the air and the lag is dreadful.
Well, your reception is crappy, Chevette says.
Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so far away!
Leave her be, Chevette. Why don’t you send us some pics, Brynnie? Harper asks. I take a couple of pretty average ones of some of the outfits people are wearing, but they come out blurry as Jonas rushes me down a narrow lane.
“Shortcut,” Jonas tells me when I send him a querying mental poke.
“Are you sure you know where we’re going?”
“And you know Level Three so well, do you?” Jonas teases. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.” We nudge past outdoor dining areas packed to capacity and street performers spitting fire, tumbling and leaping about like creatures from the virtual realms.
I wish you guys could see this. Level Three’s like a fair! I send, and say out loud, “If you lived here I’d know it better. I’d visit you all the time.”
“You want me to move out of home?” Jonas asks and I shrug.
“Maybe I’ll move to Level Three and you can visit me.”
Brynnie, we’re already on Level Three. We met up with Harper after he finished dinner with his parents, Teo says, and I flick through my messages to see if I missed an invite. I’d been off grid for a while.
I’m sorry! My modes must be messing, I reply when I find nothing. Jonas keeps me moving, steering me around an eight-foot tall giant juggling watermelons. Clearly an illusion, as no one would dare juggle real fruit!
“Any idea what you want to do after you’re Activated?” Jonas prods.
“Nope. I’ve plenty of time to figure that out.” Maybe a professional gamer? That would be fizzy.
We’re not far from the Activation Ball, Harper says. He privately messages, I bet you look stunning tonight.
“Yeah, plenty of time.” My brother tugs on a braid and I slap his hand away. “If you wait too long, you’ll end up on the assignment list and you won’t get any say on where you’re placed at all.”
“There’s no rush,” I insist while I shyly message Harper, Umm, I don’t think I look any different from usual. Harper’s response is instant.
You must look beautiful then.
You could get us in, right? Chevette drawls, hinting strongly she doubts I can.
I’m not sure. We’ve only got the two tickets …
Come on, Bryn. Once you enter through those doors we won’t be able to talk. Don’t you want to spend Activation with us? Harper cajoles, and I wonder what he’s wearing. Probably a smart suit like Jonas if his parents went all out. He’d fit in on Level Three with ease.
“We’re here, Bee,” Jonas says as we re-emerged onto the theatre’s street, skipping the worst of the queue. We get a few dark frowns, but I’ve forgotten how fizzing my brother is, as he strolls right up with a smile so charming the door security puddle at his feet.
Look, I’ll try. Meet me … I search the building’s blueprint and find an entrance around back leading to the rehearsal studio, here. I share the map. Give me half an hour. It feels like one of our usual virtual quests, and this time I’m the lead.
You’re the best, Harper sends privately, while Chevette and Teo squeal, already discussing whether they need to change or not, and if hunky Torin Hunt will be there in the flesh.
“Welcome, Bee, to the Activation Ball.” Jonas bows, sweeping out an arm with a flourish. We step through and all eyes are on me.
I’m very underdressed.