Prologue - Vertical Transit
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The rhythmic pitter-patter and hiss of water came to an abrupt stop as I waved at the terminal in front of me. The steam all around me rose as gentle warm gusts blew out of air vents in all directions against my skin, whipping my dark jade hair around to lash harmlessly against my cheeks. A rumbling kicked up behind the wall as the drying vents disengaged, and moments later a neatly folded white towel popped out of a cylindrical chute on the right side of the pod.
Wrapping myself up in the towel, a second rumbling procured another dry towel which I then used to pat down and wrap up my hair. The pod opened, via an automated sliding door on my left, and I stepped out onto a cold white tiled floor with one foot. With restrained hesitation, and holding one hand on the ledge of the door frame, I then peaked out into the room. All of the other pods were empty, and the bench by the far end was similarly unoccupied except for my own knapsack tucked beneath. Across from the bench, my black jumpsuit — the Academy uniform — was hanging from a hook on the wall opposite of the bench.
Exhaling, I forced myself out completely onto the cold floor, and tip-toed over to my stuff. Crouching over my bag, a loose lock of green bangs fell out from the towel wrap and tickled my nose. With one hand I brushed the hair out of my face while clumsily unzipping the bag with my other hand.
My civilian clothes spilled out of the backpack without much effort. I unravelled the towel around my body, exposing my skin to the cold room before hastily slipping my undergarments on. Following that, I tossed a yellow tank top over my head and yanked on some green nu-denim overalls, buckling them over my top.
As I reached further into my knapsack to pull out the few remaining accessories to complete my tomboy aesthetic, the echo of faint sniffing caught me for a scant surprised moment. There was someone elsewhere in the changeroom, and they were crying ever so quietly. I cast the thought aside for moments while I tugged on the remaining towel, releasing my still damp hair in a tumble of green locks before slipping my cap over backwards and strapping my e-goggles overtop. I completed the mechanic-chic look by pulling elbow high work gloves over my arms, before inspecting that the remaining contents of my bag were still there. Content at their placement in the untidy abyss of my backpack, I stuffed my uniform on top of my belongings, and zipped the thing shut before tossing the straps over my shoulders.
Trudging out of the tiled corridor that housed the shower pods, I turned the next corridor to walk through the locker section, where I slowed to inspect the source of the sniffing I’d heard a few moments ago. There was a slim girl sitting on a bench at the far end of the corridor, between me and the exit. She wore boyish short hair, almost like a grown in buzz cut, and dressed in the sleek black jumpsuit that marked students of Excelsior Academy; the same uniform I had just thrown in my bag.
I slowed to a stop, just short of her as she brushed her hand underneath her narrow eyes. She looked up at me with a forced smile, and I got a look at her deep brown eyes offset by smudged mascara. I offered a half smile in return, realising that she was likely another misfit girl opting to stay late, to avoid the crowd of students rushing home to depart the Academy for the day.
“First day jitters?” The girl sniffed and offered a slightly warmer smile. “There’s always a few girls late to go home on the first day.”
“O-oh,” I stammered. “I just wanted…” I trailed off momentarily, trying to think of what I wanted to gain by staying behind to shower and change alone. “Privacy.”
“I get that,” the girl stood up, readjusting her jumpsuit to remove any imperfections before straightening her back and looking down at me with dignified confidence. The alteration was a stark and drastic change from the sobbing girl just seconds earlier. “Different reasons from me, though.” The girl then held out her hand in offer of a shake. “I’m Jess.”
I hesitated before accepting the offer by grabbing onto and shaking her hand.
“Jade.”
“I know,” she responded with a cocky grin.
Of course she knew my name.
“We’re from the same ‘hood,” Jess continued, releasing my hand from her tight grip. “Well sort of. The undercity, ‘cept I live in the Toran Quarter.” Jess then did a slight turn toward the door before throwing a thumb in the direction of the exit. “Walk with me?”
I shrugged, still hesitant, but nodded by degrees a second later so as not to betray social expectations. I was a new girl at the Academy after all, on the first day of school, and despite all reservations, we were both from a rougher part of town.
Jess completed the turn, and I followed, barefoot on the shiny tile before coming to the boot rack at the end of the hall. We both yanked on our heavy Academy boots. Despite the rest of the uniform I was quite impressed by the size and ruggedness of the combat boots, and found that it actually matched the look I was going for with my civilian apparel.
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As for Jess, she looked the part of the Academy inductee to the tee. Even with her smudged makeup, she held herself with a quiet confidence that I only knew was a front because of the state I had seen her in less than a minute earlier. I could tell she was a tough girl — you would have to be tough, coming from the Toran Quarter and attending Excelsior.
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We didn’t chat
too much along the way out of the Academy. That is to say, we spoke because we were in the company of one another, but we didn’t say anything of significant substance other than fulfilling social conventions via milquetoast conversation. In reality, we were two girls from the wrong side of town, walking the empty halls of the most prestigious training academy for the most promising cadets in the city.
Somehow against all odds the two of us made it into the polished tile corridors and groomed gardens of Excelsior, curated for the elite military class of the high city. Except that sentiment about odds was somewhat of an anomaly in my case, as I was practically guaranteed a spot in the Academy.
“So,” Jess began, and I knew what she was going to ask simply by the tone that I had heard from so many other kids over the years. “What’s it like being the daughter of Virgil Spence.”
“Honestly,” I sighed. “It’s kinda like being seen everywhere I go, and still feeling like I don’t exist.”
Jess held a hand up to her mouth and giggled.
“Kinda like, or exactly like?”
I smirked and offered a short chuckle in response.
“What’s going to Excelsior like for you?” I followed up, hoping to finally get into the meat of the conversation.
Jess shrugged and frowned before skipping ahead by a step to open the heavy door separating the lobby from the outside world.
“It’s kinda like nobody sees me, and that I don’t exist at all.” She gestured for me to walk through the open door, and I obliged before she kept up with both her pace beside me and her train of thought. “Well, except I exist when one of the high city girls wants a punching bag for the day.”
I didn’t know how to respond to Jess’ confiding in me, so I opted to change the subject instead.
“How long have you been going to Excelsior?” I asked.
“Two years,” she tilted her head toward me to glance out of her peripheral before continuing. “Skipped my second year, though, so I’m in year three.”
I nodded, realising the girl I’d possibly befriended was not only two years my senior, but in terms of academia, she was actually ahead by three years. And yet, knowing how difficult it was for her to adapt to this world, I wondered about my own future in the Academy.
“Over there,” Jess pointed beyond the plaza and toward the street beyond, where a shuttle was parked near the gates to the compound. “That shuttle will be waiting for us.”
“Huh,” I chuckled. “I guess there are perks to being in the most prestigious school in the city?”
Jess laughed.
“There are a couple.”
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We closed the short distance to the shuttle, which then took us into the thick of the city. Daylight was beginning to wane as red sky and purple clouds punctuated the skyscrapers. The tall buildings similarly took on a new vibrant life as the red sky shifted to darker tones, causing neon signs and city lights to flicker on all around us as the shuttle sped along the transit lane, passing by bumper to bumper traffic on either side.
The shuttle was a sort of city bus, but with comfortable padded seats and all the amenities one could hope for in luxury transit. As Jess continued the conversation, my eyes caught the distracting news projections against the tinted windows of the vehicle.
A headline scrolled in yellow text against a black background, and beneath that a scene showed a smoking section of magnetic rail against a mostly barren landscape. The text read ‘CCG high deputy warns against travel in the outlands as new rail system is the next casualty in terrorist attacks on progressive city projects.’ The scene flipped to the next projected story, and I almost had to turn my head away in embarrassment of the broadcast.
“Hey,” Jess pointed to the projection. “That’s…” she turned her attention away from the screen long enough to read my bashful look, and pulled her pointed finger away from the window.
I sighed.
The new scene depicted a man in a jumpsuit not entirely unlike the one we wore at Excelsior Academy. However, this jumpsuit was more skin tight and sleek, like slick spandex , but composed of smart nano-fibre technology.
The camera then focused on the man just as a city councillor walked toward him and placed a medal on the left side of his chest. The man in the video had a rugged sort of look, with shoulder length black hair, five o’clock shadow, and jade green eyes. The yellow text for the story scrolled underneath, ‘Virgil Spence accepts highest honour, retiring from position as top agent in Chyunda’s Foreign Conflict Branch.’
“Seen everywhere,” I mumbled as the camera panned across the seated attendees of the ceremony, stopping on a green-haired, green-eyed girl in an Academy jumpsuit. The yellow text scrolled underneath. ‘Daughter of Virgil Spence.’ I looked over at Jess and feigned a smile. “Would it kill them to call me by my name?”
Jess nodded thoughtfully, understanding my point.
“Still feeling like I don’t exist,” I turned my head again, this time staring vacantly past the projection, and out of the tinted window.