Arelia

Darkness settled heavy over the city, fought off by neon and bright lights. Arelia stood atop the world, wind tousling her chestnut hair. Her metal-clad toes dangled off the edge, white-and-gold exo-harness polished and flawless. Beneath her feet, the sheer face of a skyscraper fell away. This late at night, few people wandered the streets. They looked like ants, only visible from their shadows.

The Block. Filthy. Dirty. Worthless. Or so she’d heard.

She leaped off the skyscraper. Arms out, legs together, a wild grin on her face. Wind streamed past her face and pulled at her hair. Down, down, past dark windows and lit offices. She glimpsed desks, faces, bland wall décor.

Airfoils burst from her shoulder blades. An engine lit up at her mid back. The wind was cut off as a helmet engulfed her head and clicked into the rest of the harness at her neck. The exo-harness hummed to life all around her as the white- and gold-tinged metal adjusted to her whim. In the dark of night, she swooped, a phantom on the wind.

Someone buzzed by her. A man in black exo-harness, winged like hers, hands and feet bright silver against the night. He spun and flared his wings, rocking them in greeting, then rocketed further into the night.

Arelia laughed and rocked back, then threw herself into a roll as a challenge.

Her mysterious partner wasn’t interested in games. He waggled his wings one last time and sped into the darkness, until his silver limbs were mere stars in the night. She chased him, but his harness was much better than hers, and she couldn’t keep up.

I’ll have to ask father for a better harness next time, she thought as she gave up and turned away. Not that he’d give it to her. It had taken far too much effort to get this exo-harness in the first place.

Then again, I’m not out here to play either. Arelia put a hand to the bag she carried, slung over her front so the engines wouldn’t burn it. Time was wasting. She folded her limbs in and streamlined herself. Numbers flashed across the inside of the helmet’s screen as she willed the engine faster. Heat burned against her back as the harness heated up from the engine, even as the wind rushed by and her cooling coils whisked it away.

She was free. Nothing in her way. The sky was her playground. She could go anywhere, and no one could touch her. A bird on the wing, uncatchable, unstoppable.

The winds drew her onward. She tipped her wings, soared around one last office building, and came out over the Block. Half-finished or half-wrecked buildings greeted her, bound together by a muddle of overpasses and alleyways without any forethought. She grimaced in disgust. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers thrust out of the muddle here and there. Strange winds stirred around them, formed around the empty holes where the buildings ought to have windows. She leaned outward and slipped away from the buildings, keeping a respectful distance. Later. But there was some time yet.

Bright, colorful light burst out of a sector of the Block, blasting through the dark. Morbid curiosity drew her closer. She alighted on a nearby building, boxy and tall enough to have a good line of sight on the street, and tiptoed to its edge. Signs advertised drinks, pills, naked bodies, sometimes all three at once. One building beckoned passerby to Lacey Loves with a neon-gloved hand. Another, the Bodacious, flaunted a ten-foot-tall vidscreen of a bouncing thong-clad bottom to the beat of the music that pounded from its storefront. Men and women flounced by, most in little clothing, some in outrageous makeup, several with strange, colorful harness, the likes of which she’d never seen before. Women and men called from beside the storefront, men displaying broad chests, women dancing and posing, bobbling for attention. Up here, the air was clear, but she could only imagine the stench on the streets from unwashed, sweaty bodies and cheap perfume.

Her lip curled up. Disgusting. Father was right.

A quiet clang from her right cut through the distant hubbub of the street. Arelia whipped around, startled. Someone else is on the roof?

Nothing. The roof was empty.

“It’s so noisy,” a voice murmured from behind her.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She whirled again. Crouched like a gargoyle beside her on the ledge, a young boy gazed down on the street. Dark hair fell around a bloody-lipped face. He wore a dirty shirt and dark pants, but bare feet, steel toes curled around the edge of the ledge. A sling held his bandaged left arm to his body, special care taken to stabilize his shoulder. His lips pursed. Wind stirred his hair. He inched closer to the edge, almost a yearning to his posture.

“Who are you?” Arelia shouted. She pointed her hand at him. Electricity sparked at the tips of her flightsuit’s fingers.

He lifted his finger to his mouth. Slowly, he turned away from the street to face her. Dark eyes reflected her face, backlit by her helmet’s internal lights, and the neon white highlights that accentuated her suit. “Do you want to go down?”

“I’d get killed. Or mugged, at best,” Arelia replied.

The boy smirked. “You’re scared? Of them?”

The derision in his voice surprised Arelia. She lowered her hand slowly. He sounded just as disgusted of the people below as she felt. He’s one of the slumfolk himself. How does he hate them when he’s one of them? “I might say wary instead, but… of course. It’s only common sense.”

“You look down on them, but you’re too afraid to walk among them,” he mocked, and tipped headfirst off the roof.

“Hey!” Arelia jumped after him, airfoils spreading wide.

He executed a neat flip and landed on his feet on the fire escape, one story down.

Too close! I’m going to crash! Arelia flared her engine, whipped around, and blasted away from the building. The next building over loomed, and she barely flipped around in time to avoid smashing into it. Iron bars loomed, flaking with red paint and rust as she careened back at the original fire escape again. With all her might, she flung her legs in front of her and kicked off the railing. Her engine pointed down, and she rocketed into the sky.

In the clear sky, it only took a moment to regain her balance. She looked down at the narrow alley, heart pounding in her ears, cold sweat dripping down her back, and shuddered. I almost died.

The boy laughed and jumped down the fire escape, one story at a time. Against all odds, rather than crash and smash from one level to the next, he dropped with a soft clang instead. “See you at the bottom.”

“I never said—” Arelia bit back the urge to scream and rolled her eyes at the heavens. I’ll never be able to surpass father if I can’t even do this much. And anyways, I’m not afraid.

She cut her engine and dropped past the boy. The ground rushed up, but she waited. Two, three. She flared her engine on and negated her momentum. The harness creaked as it dissipated the leftover energy. Before she could shoot back up, she cut the engine again and fell the last half-meter to the floor, folding in her suit’s airfoils as she landed.

“Ha, slowpoke,” she called up at the boy, still three floors above the ground.

He pulled a face, then clambered onto the railing of the fire escape and leaped down.

“What—idiot!” Arms out, she lunged to catch him.

He landed with one foot on each of her shoulders and threw his good hand up like a gymnast. Metal slammed against metal, and her harness screeched as it fought to dissipate the energy. Some of it still went through, hammer-blows to her chest. She stumbled. “Ow!”

The boy jumped off. “You need a better harness.”

“You need to not jump on people’s shoulders!”

He shook his head and strode out of the alleyway, toward the street.

She chased after him. “Do you live here?”

He shrugged.

“What’s your name?”

Another shrug.

Arelia grumbled to herself, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“You haven’t told me your name.”

She fell silent. The boy glanced back at her and arched a brow, but didn’t say anything.

“Oy, Sasha, who’s the pretty lady?” an underdressed woman called out from the far side of the alley.

Arelia shied away from her. Is that… a prostitute? She glanced at the boy. He knew her? How old was he, twelve? She gave the prostitute a horrified look.

The prostitute stared back, unimpressed. Cherries flickered in her eyes. “This isn’t a place for kids, girl. And you, aren’t you injured? You shouldn’t be up and about yet.”

Arelia bristled. “Girl? I’m older than him!”

“You’re what, fifteen?” The prostitute lifted a cig to her lips and blew smoke at Arelia. It smelled faintly of cherries.

“Sixteen,” she retorted.

The prostitute laughed. “Still too young.”

The boy passed her by. Arelia stared. “You didn’t stop him!”

“I look like a gatekeeper to you?” she asked.

Arelia blinked, then hurried by. She flinched past the prostitute

The prostitute watched her, amused. “Go ahead and make your own mistakes. I’m not about to stop you.”

They came out onto the bustling street. Neon buzzed and glowed all around them. Huge screens showed images from inside the clubs, bodies slamming against one another in the feverish pursuit of the night. The stench was worse than she’d expected. Stale cig smoke, sweat, perfume, alcohol. Music pounded in her ears and rattled through her bones. A few passerby shot glances at Arelia’s flightsuit, but no one stopped them. The boy snaked ahead of her, through the crowds, and she hurried to follow.

“Sasha, wait up.”

He whipped around, startled to hear his name. His good hand made a strange gesture.

She grinned triumphantly. “That prostitute said your name.”

Bored, he turned away. “Her name is Cherri.”

“So? She’s a prostitute.”

He rounded on her, so suddenly that she almost collided. “She’s a person.”

Arelia put her hands up. “Okay, okay.”

Dark eyes studied her for a beat, more piercing than they should be for someone his age. “I see. None of us are people.”