Greyson
Ma isn’t home when I get back.
My black jacket’s dressy enough for a ball, but my shirt’s not all that, so I unearth one of Pa’s old white button-ups. It’s wrinkled and the arms are a tad short, but it’s got some semblance of pish-posh.
You’ll have to run. The performances have started, Zipper prompts. She directs me towards the Core and I flick on my torch.
I’ve only got to arrive before the winners are announced. I jog anyway, and my chest aches and my throat dries right tight as I pant. It doesn’t take long to reach the hatch I want, not far from the Core. I heave it open, revealing a narrow spiralling staircase. There’s hundreds of these hollow veins all over the station from when the Core used to break down. It hasn’t stopped in a century, so I’m alone as I climb through the dark-gloom, these passageways quiet-like, dusty and forgotten.
Between L7 and L6 I stop to catch a puff. All I hear are my harsh breaths and I’m bent double, hands squeezing my knees.
You okay? Zipper asks, even though she knows real exact how I’m doing. Heart rate’s far too high and adrenaline’s doing buggy things to my system. I swear I sniff-snuff something, like chunky-sour milk.
Can you smell that? Like chlorine? I inhale again, and it’s stronger. Zipper’s sniffer breaks it down to O3/trioxygen. Ozone? That’s high unstable. What’s it doing here?
Concentration levels are 90 parts per billion. Any higher and it’ll become harmful. You should move on quickly.
“Reckon you could check for any other bad pockets?” I climb, the taste of chlorine settling on my tongue.
Of course, too easy!
The climb doesn’t get any easier, but I make it. I’ve never been on L3 before. The roads are wider and looking up makes my chest tight from all that empty air. After the dizziness passes, I keep my eyes to the ground. The buildings are plain, grimy steel and concrete, leafless trees line the pavement all regular-like. They don’t serve much purpose, like the costumes flooding the streets. A large gathering is heading in the same direction so I join them, pushing my way to the middle, and I breathe more easily as elbows jostle for space.
Once at the theatre I’m reluctant to leave the crowd. I skirt around the front, head down, jogging towards a side entrance. Unsurprisingly, it’s guarded by two annoyingly alert Mediators.
There’s a reason I don’t have an active Cyberinth chip. Having the ability to share what you’re seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, smelling, and even feeling, means they’ve got the ability to use your modes to see, hear, taste, touch, smell and feel whether you want them to or not. The link’s there so it isn’t hard to imagine the path can be travelled both ways. It’s the Guardian – leader and master of all us plebs. Just the Guardian. He holds court in the Cyberinth like a king.
If our teachers are to be believed, he’s ruled the station from day one. Mr Oldroyd says that’s why he’s never seen in public, his bod’s so old even a modes’ hologram can only do so much. That puts him at over three hundred and sixty-seven years old. That’s how long we’ve left Earth. I humour Mr Oldroyd, even though he’s full of hot air. It’s a title. Maybe inherited. Either way, the guy’s got real smarts. I’ve smarts, too.
A quick hack sends new orders to the Mediator goons and they’re off to check some scuffle. I open up a crack in the security that lets me slip in without being visually recorded and will allow the results Bones wants back out. Once in, it’s effortless for Zipper to direct me backstage and into the main theatre. The place’s quiet. Dead quiet. Every single person, standing or sitting, is facing the stage and when my boots squeak, I wince. No one notices.
On the stage stands some young woman, her bod gently moving from side to side and she’s pretty enough. She just isn’t doing anything. Then the crowd erupts into applause, boots stamping and lips whistle-piercing, and the woman bows all shaky-like. I’m plastered against the wall, my heart wanting to pound right out of my chest, and all I can think is popular people are glitching nuts!
Bryn
“So? What do you think?” Jonas asks, as the girl heads off stage. I wipe away tears with my palms and laugh.
“Beautiful!” I shout to be heard over the applause. “I’m sure she’ll win!” I check the time. “I need to …” I stop to search the correct phrase, “powder my nose.” I even try for a posh upper accent and Jonas is almost in fits, he’s laughing so hard. I sniff in mild irritation, even though I’m pleased I got him to laugh, and head off to where my crew’s waiting.
Beyond the stage, it’s surprisingly quiet, and after one false turn I find the side door not only open, but unguarded. I stick my head outside and message the others. They scurry out of the darkness, pressing hands to their lips to keep their giggles at bay.
I can’t believe you actually did it! Chevette sends. Her hair is a pretty pink and pale green, reminding me of the hard-boiled candies we shared in our last class together. Teo and Harper are in smart suits, gifts from their parents, and probably second-hand. They’d easily cost a year’s allowance brand new.
“Come on, before we get caught,” I hiss, and lead them inside, enjoying how Harper’s holo-glamour brushes up against mine as we hurry down the hallway and into the theatre.
“Oh, wow!” Teo bounces on the spot. “Is that what I think it is? Oh, sky, it is!” He’s across the room before I even see what he’s spotted. Strawberries. Plump red strawberries, the size of my fist, stacked in pyramids on silver trays. And they’re real! Not programmed carb cubes pretending to be fruit.
“Thanks, Bryn. You’ve made Teo’s year,” Harper smiles and I practically melt. He fits in with this crowd like he belongs. Tugging at my dress, I try to pretend I do, too.
“So who’re the hopefuls?” Chevette asks as Harper wanders off after Teo, who’s single-mindedly focused on devouring the entire table of strawberries.
“Umm, Meagan Flute — I mean Clute — from our micro-economics class was just on.” I crane to see the stage and spot someone I don’t know presenting some runway show. I like all the scarves, but the hats are a bit much. “Not sure who else. There must be a program or something,” I suggest, and Chevette sighs heavily. “Maybe Jonas has one I can copy?” I add.
I glance back at Harper and Teo, but the two have disappeared.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Chevette says and follows a waiter carrying a tray of floating wine glasses. I can’t see where Jonas is, even when I balance on tiptoe. And there I am, standing in the middle of the event of the year, crossing and unfolding my arms, smiling as people drift by.
Lenora
Kristopher Kram bows and heads off stage, following his models confidently until he’s past the curtains where he crumples with relief. I ignore him as I stand in the left wing, breathing deeply, and smoothing the front of my dress, hoping I look more at ease than I feel. This is it.
“You don’t need any luck. You’re going to shine,” Hugo whispers and gives me two goofy thumbs up. He vanishes and I’m alone.
“Our final contestant is here tonight courtesy of MsDanikaStarburst. We present, with pleasure, Miss Lenora Rey!”
I sweep onto the stage like a storm front, my arms out wide, fingers perfectly loose as a heaving thundercloud of dark lavender grey, slate blue and charcoal black towers in my wake. Sweeping my arms forward then back, the cloud gathers up all the air in the theatre, my audience staggering forward, breathless, and a deep, grumbling bass of distant thunder makes the floor tremble. The lights flicker out. I pause, eyes penetrating the darkness until I spot Hugo, his mouth ajar with shock, and I smirk. This’ll be too easy.
Bryn
I wish Jonas was here. I wrap my arms tight around myself as I peer towards the pale outline of Lenora Rey. Bolts of lightning strike the wooden stage, forking off and tossing my classmate into sharp relief as she stands still. A goddess, the storm swirling around her feet like … like a creature — a black and grey shadow‑wolf, from the times of Old Earth. I can even see ears, and smouldering embers for eyes, and teeth that flicker like flames. After a suspended moment, Lenora spins and the beast twirls up and around her lithe form before it shoots off across the audience. I’m not the only one who ducks.
Greyson
I snort when everyone dip-ducks. They all look the same. Identical slack looks on their faces and they move as one, their heads bobbing as if attached to the same piece of string. No one takes their eyes off her. Lenora Rey, from my old history class, stands still, centre-stage under a white-bright spotlight, the rest of the theatre in gloom. A drumbeat thu-thumps and first it’s so soft I can bare feel it. Now it’s pounding a slow steady beat up through the soles of my boots and into the base of my brain.
Lenora bows her head and a melody interweaves with the accelerating thud thud thud. I look for the telltale bod movements, signalling each musical note: her little finger flick-twitches, brow lifts, shoulder shrugs, the motions hidden within the sensual, twirl-twisting dance.
She has to be hooked up to the theatre’s sound system — the melody comes from everywhere. Sometimes forceful as a sledgehammer then the rhythm changes and it’s like tiny puff of air against my skin.
Bryn
Like a light bulb, Lenora glows as she spins in tiny circles across the stage, the thunder a steady, beating heart as a mournful tune makes my mouth dry and eyes tear up. The storm front stretches above our heads and, after a brilliant flash of lightning, it rains. Heavy warm drops hit my cheeks and I lick my lips, tasting the flavour of oranges. It’s all in my head, a clever modal trick using my last tagged taste. I suspect Teo tastes strawberries.
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People touch their hair, certain they’re getting soaked, but fingers come away dry and before I know it, the rain ceases. Lenora balances on her hands, her body upside down and perfectly straight, and her skirt flutters against gravity like flames. Then the stage is burning. The music grows to a crescendo and as embers leap from the fire they transform into mythical monsters. There’s a ruby-scaled dragon, birds with golden plumages, and felines with wide unblinking eyes and long, swishing tails. They dance between our feet or above our heads like living fire, as Lenora rolls out of her handstand and twirls across the stage.
It’s hard juggling the idea that Lenora’s my age. She’s had the same education as me, the same opportunities, and the same upbringing. Virtually, we’re the same. Sure, she comes from one of the higher levels, but that shouldn’t matter.
I check the time. In less than an hour I’ll be Active, my whole year will be Active, and I feel sick.
A holo-glamour nudges against mine and my heart leaps thinking it’s Harper, but it’s just Jonas. He smirks at me and I force myself to smile.
Pretty amazing, right? he gestures towards the stage. To think Lenora is carrying this many threads in her head is …
Unbelievable. She really is something else.
Lenora
I stand still, arms resting slightly from my body as I breathe deeply. The music I’d painstakingly crafted has stopped but the notes are still ringing in my head. As the lights brighten, everything blurs behind tears. It had been perfect. Every step and movement had been joyously perfect.
Faces emerge in the audience. There’s no rush for me to be off stage and so I bask in their adulation with modest bows, while I look for my parents. Mother has her back to me, I can tell it’s her from the short silver dress and her name proudly displayed above her head, along with her rank, which unsurprising has already jumped twenty places as she drops less valuable friends and replaces them with those she mingles with now. Father is by the far wall, palm against an ear and the other hand at his waist where his baton usually sits. His rank is set to private, but I’d not be surprised if it’s gone up as well. I catch his gaze and he gives me a proud smile before he frowns and says something into his wrist.
MsDanikaStarburst sits in a high-back chair amongst her followers, a self-satisfied smile on her face. She’s clearly somewhere else, composing an editorial piece to be released as soon as the security Block is lifted. Something tightens in my chest and my jaw aches as my throat constricts. Then I spot Hugo. He’s lounging on a table, his eyes on me, and the look on his face is intense.
“There are no words.” I hear him perfectly, despite the distance. “No words at all.”
I blush, the knot unwinding, and I can breathe again. Why is it the only approval I need is from someone who doesn’t really exist?
Greyson
The judge I choose has the worst taste in hair colour, a pus yellow, and standard, idiot-proof headgear that’s insanely easy to crack. She’s a small woman, with a sour face and for this to work I’ve to stand real close. I get a good whiff of her saccharine perfume and gag as the sick-sweet smell. The three judges are locked in a secure private conversation, hands flailing and lips wiggling, and my chosen judge is by far the worse. Wine glasses dance out of her way as she gestures about like a tripping music conductor.
Zipper’s annoyed with how easy-peasy it is to feel up the woman’s security and slip inside. What’s more surprising is the winners have already been figured. They’re talking about the canapés they’re chowing through like there’s no tomorrow.
Zipper’s prompt in transferring the names and places of the performers. Knowing the winners ten minutes before the rest of Triumph is going to be priceless, and hopefully means Bones’ll be satisfied enough to forget I even exist.
I shuffle away from the judges and avoid the big Mediator who’s trying to fool people into thinking he’s a guest. With that wrist piece stapled to his ear, he’s doing a piss poor job.
Is the hole still there? I ask. I sense Zipper nosing the edges of the gap I left earlier. Good. Let’s send this and be done.
Bryn
I don’t know where Chevette’s gone, and Teo and Harper haven’t made an appearance since the strawberry buffet. The strawberries are nice, though. Just like the strawberry pods Mum likes, but more sticky sweet and juicy. I’ve eaten a few and wrapped the four biggest ones I can find in a dainty white napkin to share with the others. We could have a picnic maybe!
The dress has no pockets so I cradle them in my hands as I do another circuit of the room. I spot Chevette’s colourful locks but, by the time I push through another group of people, she’s disappeared again.
Guys? Where are you? I get no replies. The strawberries are warm in my hands and the juice is staining the white cloth.
I’ve got the plumpest strawberries for us!
“You haven’t noticed?” Jonas asks behind me and I turn, ready to say something sharp and witty, when I realise he isn’t talking to me at all. He’s almost toe-to-toe with a barrel chested man dressed in an ill-fitting grey suit and a matching pair of modes that are so understated they stand out. He carries himself stiffly, constantly touching a metal band around his wrist as if checking it’s still there.
“You know my work keeps me in the Cyberinth more often than not,” the man replies. They speak out loud, a precaution that has me curious.
“It’s wrong, Rey,” Jonas states as he runs a hand through his hair. It stays neat, as if he’s just combed it.
“How do you mean?”
“The sun’s position has changed.” My brother presses a finger-pad to the man’s temple and sends him something.
“Impossible! The Guardian would’ve informed us.”
“Well, it has,” Jonas snaps, then lowers his voice, “and you know that means the station’s altered course. If this is a repeat of Ashville…”
“This is not the place for this conversation,” the other man growls.
Lenora
When the lights dim twice and a gentle bell chimes for attention, my heart lodges in my throat. Hugo extends the temporary Ping Block another foot and people around me adjust subconsciously until there’s more space. I force myself to take a deep breath.
On stage, three middle-aged judges wait in all their splendour. Clearly they’ve gotten professional holo-glamour work done as they all appear straight, tall and radiate benevolence. After a suspended pause, a fourth figure manifests before the judges, and the entire audience bows respectfully.
“I pledge allegiance to my Guardian for his guidance.” The familiar words fall from my lips in sync with the other guests. “To our station in which together we fly strong against adversity with equal opportunity for all.” Once the creed’s complete, I straighten, doing my best to ignore the churning in my stomach.
“Good evening my follow citizens!” the Guardian greets, voice carrying across the theatre. He stands proud, dressed in a dark blue uniform and short-brimmed officer’s cap. His left breast pocket sags beneath the weight of various medals and ribbons, and his dark eyes are piercing. Even as a hologram, his gaze is intense, symbolising how he sees all of his people unobstructed. He’s the only person on the station without a ranking, sitting above us all.
“Tonight we’ve witnessed our soon-to-be Active’s best and brightest, and I couldn’t be more proud. While it’s been three hundred and sixty-seven years since we found sanctuary on the Triumph, we’ve continued to be capable, resolute, and resourceful and this is most clearly evident in our next generation of citizens who we welcome into adulthood at midnight.” The crowd applauds, and the Guardian smiles fondly before gesturing for silence. “However, I’m sure you’re just as keen as I am to hear the results! Madam Judge? If you’d do the honours?”
The only woman, her golden hair pinned in intricate knots, steps to the edge of the stage and bows deeply to the Guardian. The audience jostles for a better view. The woman pulls out an envelope containing the winners. Reading from last to first, every name that isn’t mine makes me dreadfully sick with fear and excitement.
“Second place for his comedy routine goes to Mr Wallace Miller!” Wallace whoops, leaps onto the stage and salutes the Guardian with a flourish. Everyone laughs, tickled pink by his audacity.
“Thank you, Mr Miller. Moving on …” My heart stops. “And first place …”
“Don’t forget to breathe, Nora,” Hugo murmurs.
“For a truly breathtaking performance…”
Mother and Father appear from nowhere, standing like bookends on either side of me. We’re so proud of you, they send. Hugo is out of sight yet I sense him behind me, offering his support.
“Miss Lenora Rey!”
Midnight ticks over and I’m Activated.
Bryn
The official first portal appears in front of me in a swirl of blue and silver confetti – no slimy monsters in sight – and I wonder where the others are. I peer at the strawberries, unwrapping and checking for bruises. They look alright. I glance around, hoping to see someone familiar. Even Jonas is gone.
Harper? Teo? Chevette? I call out, but my mind keeps wandering to the portal. Maybe they’re already on the other side waiting for me?
Greyson
There’s got to be blueprints for what Pa was working on, I ramble as I heave-ho myself, hand over hand up my unit’s stairwell. Blast, Zip. You’re fat. She nips my dud ear in retaliation. It’s almost midnight. Zipper tried messaging Ma, but she’s prob busy cleaning up other people’s messes. Soon Ma’ll be the one making messes.
Your mother? Messy? Zipper says dry-like, and I roll my eyes.
Fair point. We reach the walkway and I’m exhausted. I mean, glitch, I’ve been on my feet for hours and my neck’s right tight. I dig a thumb deep into the tissue and Zipper takes the hint and kneads away. Knew I kept her around for something. I’m pretty much pulling myself along by the railing alone so, when she stops her delightful kneading, I groan.
Greyson, look.
We’re in the right place. Sure, these units all look the same, but this’s been ours for years and I know every dent, scratch and hole. I attempt to unlock the door, but it won’t open. I thud-thump the door.
“No, no, no, this isn’t happening! Zip! Where is she! Ma!” My palms sting and then the door opens.
“Oi, what’s glitching wrong with you!” There’s a strange man in my home. Two strange men, actually, and one of them’s holding a tot dressed in a dragon onesie. There’s a new clean smell that makes my nose smart-sting and the roof space I carved out for myself has been dismantled.
“Who’re you lot, then? Where’s Ma?” I’m loud in the blackout dim-gloom. Next-doors are stirring but no one comes out.
Lenora
“Oh sweetheart! We did it!” Mother sends me a virtual kiss that puffs gently against my cheek.
“Good job, Lenora. Never doubted you for a minute.” My father’s face could’ve split in half, his grin is so wide.
“I have to tell Hannah. If it weren’t for that dress she made…” Mother drifts off without another word, even though she’s still standing right there.
“And this is when my night begins. Don’t stay in the Cyberinth too long,” Father says, with his hands already twitching away. “First night’s always the worse, and MsDanikaStarburst insisted on a motor-carriage home.” He catches the Guardian’s eye and the two exchange nods before the Guardian’s hologram vanishes.
I tell my father I understand. I doubt he hears me.
“Well, Nora,” Hugo manifests before me and makes a sweeping gesture to reveal a dark purple curtain suspended in thin air. “What are you waiting for?”
I step through into the chaotic brilliance flooding the neon streets of the Cyberinth.
This is extraordinary! There are other students hovering as bright glowing orbs with many digit ranks floating above their heads as VHS users stride about in fully realised avatars. They’re in all shapes and sizes, monsters and humans, numbers flickering above their heads like halos.
“You should check your stats,” Hugo prompts. My school rank has disappeared and I’m now a healthy 42,746.
Are they my friend requests? I point to a hovering icon flashing a number, steadily increasing. MsDanikaStarburst and her cohort are amongst them.
“You’re hot property, Nora. I’d accept all friend requests ranked in the top two hundred,” Hugo calculates for a moment. “That’s about forty-eight. Everyone else can wait until later.”
But where will I find forty-eight spaces?
“You’ll have to Unfriend.”
I look at the profiles of my year mates and randomly select four dozen.
“I’d be surprised if by week’s end you have anyone from your year on your Friend list.”
Will they hate me?
“Nah, Nora. They’ll love you even more.”
Greyson
It’s past midnight, Zipper says.
No one knows anything. Or they won’t say. I don’t stop. Door after door … hell, I’ll wake all of L8 if I’ve got to.
The money, Zip. Did they get the glitching money?
It was sent. Whether they noticed …
Where’s she? She can’t be … but I know. She’s been Evicted. It said right there in the notice, but I didn’t think it meant this! Ma, fragile, bitty Ma, marched to the station’s recycling and tossed in like rubbish, as if she means nothing! She can’t be really gone, all because of unpaid rent. I don’t notice until I’m facing the glowing bones that I’ve been heading this way all along. Bones knows things even the Guardian doesn’t about this glitched up station and, by stars and planets, he’s going to tell me.