The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Page 8

  I thought about pushing past her, pretending I hadn’t heard. I didn’t have a moment. A nanobot update—what update? What could they need with an update, now their careers were done? I needed to talk to them, come up with a plan. Stop them from—

  “Just quickly,” said Elli. She took hold of my sleeve and pulled me onto the landing. “I know this must be strange for you,” she said. “I’d be weirded out, too.”

  “Strange. Yeah.” I blinked. Her voice had changed, lost that bright, perky edge. She smiled at me, a new smile, kind of wry.

  “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you, if you need anything at all.” For the first time, she looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s just…the Decemites, they’re prepared for this. They’ve been waiting half their lives. For them, I’m just a tour guide. But you’ve had two days to adjust. Two days to say goodbye. I can’t imagine what that’s like. If you need a friend, someone who’s not a Decemite... Well, I wouldn’t presume, but just know I’m here.”

  “Thanks.” I felt my ears redden. I’d spent the past hour thinking the worst of her, mocking her behind her back. Maybe she was everything I’d assumed—snide and pampered, empty-headed—but now she seemed earnest. Perceptive, even. I smiled as warmly as I could. “How would I call you, if I did need something?”

  “When you set up your phone, it’ll update your contacts automatically. You’ll see me, Elli Vane.”

  “Okay. Maybe I’ll call you, then.” I squirmed, suddenly awkward. “Well, I’d better—”

  “Go ahead. Settle in. I’ll get out of your hair.” Elli gave me a little wave. I turned and raced up the stairs, catching Ona as she ducked into her bedroom.

  “Me and Lock took the good rooms,” she said. “You get the one facing uphill.”

  “Thanks a lot.” I did a slow turn, searching for Lock. “Lock? Get out here. I need to talk to you.”

  “What?” He sauntered out bare-chested, a towel slung over his hips. He was still dry, at least, so I hadn’t interrupted his bath. “I do fit, by the way. In my tub. Every inch of me.”

  “Good for you.” I turned my back on him, disconcerted by his nudity. “That nanobot update, though—do you know what that’s about?”

  “Who cares?” Ona loosened her collar. “You saw Jack and Sonia. They’re fine. Whatever it does, it obviously doesn’t kill us.”

  “Not right away, maybe, but—”

  “You can’t stop yourself, can you?” Ona went to the French doors and flung them open, letting in that cut-grass smell. “Look at this place. It’s better than my best dream. If Mom and Dad could see us now—”

  “We can’t see them.”

  “They’d still be happy. They’d still—” Ona’s voice cracked. “Quit trying to ruin this. This place is amazing. I feel amazing. The only thing that could spoil it is you spouting off with your conspiracy theories and getting all three of us tossed out.”

  “She’s just scared,” said Lock. “You would be, too, if you hadn’t been through the whole training.” He turned to me, and I thought he looked scared himself, tight-lipped and tense. Then he smiled, and his concern seemed to melt away. “We’ll be okay. Didn’t Jack look good?”

  I frowned. He had looked healthy, but he couldn’t have been here long. I’d seen him maybe six months ago, down in the Dirt. “I just think—”

  “What do you want us to do?” Lock’s tone was gentle. “If this is a reward, the update’s a good thing. If it’s not—if you’re right—what do you think happens if we say no?”

  “If we could come up with some excuse...” I flopped down on a plush couch. It seemed to swallow me whole. Some excuse—it was hopeless. Lock was right. At best, we’d buy a day or two, and where would that get us? Nowhere, that’s where, except maybe in trouble.

  “I’m having my bath,” said Ona. “I need time to soak before Elli comes back.” She retreated to her bedroom, letting the door slam in my face. Lock stayed where he was, but I could hear the water running in his bathroom.

  “Go ahead,” I told him. “Soak yourself pruney. I’ll be fine.”

  “We all will be,” he said. “Well, I’ll be a raisin, but I’m good with that.” He ducked back inside, and I heard his towel hit the floor. A few moments later came a moan of pure ecstasy. I chuckled in spite of myself. At least he’d gotten his wish.

  I stayed where I was, watching the trains go by. They sighed on their tracks, a windy, lonesome sound. It made me think of the mountains, up where it got cold. Soon, Elli would be back. I toyed with the idea of befriending her, pressing her for answers, but people like her never had any. She was just a tour guide—a sweet one, maybe, but a tour guide all the same.

  I sank deeper into the couch. Downstairs, the birds were noisy. Lock was splashing in his tub. Somehow, I dozed off, and when I woke up, I was alone.

  Chapter Ten

  I mostly ignored Elli’s chatter as we explored the shopping district. It wasn’t that I was annoyed by her, now I’d got used to having her around—just, there was so much to look at, so much to take in. One shop was full of padded chairs, and in each chair sat someone having their hair brushed or trimmed or woven with pearls or bells. Next to that was a dress shop, only every dress was white. Ona stopped to admire that one, eyes round.

  “Are those the ones you put your photos on? The blank dresses?”

  Elli laughed. “No. Those are wedding dresses. We get married in white.”

  “Wedding dresses?” Ona stared at a woman trying on some sort of headdress, its gauzy white ribbons streaming down her back.

  “You don’t have those below? Something nice for your wedding?”

  “No. We just wear our good pants.” Ona peered in the window. “So you get that big, fancy dress, and it’s just for one day? What do you do afterward, hang it on the wall?”

  “You could, I suppose, but most people just keep it. If you still fit in it ten years later, it’s like a mark of pride.”

  I left the bridal shop behind and wandered on. It all felt like too much—everything you could think of, nothing you’d ever need. I spotted a man selling live rats out of a cart, white ones and gray ones and brindled ones with spots. Lock stopped to look at them, and I hoped he wouldn’t buy any.

  “Ginger foam, miss?”

  I stopped in my tracks. An elderly man was beckoning me over, holding out a paper cup. I eyed it suspiciously, debating whether it would be rude to keep walking.

  “What is it? A drink?”

  “A cloud in a glass. Come try.”

  My curiosity got the better of me, and I took the cup and sniffed it. Cold foam shot up my nose, and I doubled over, sneezing.

  “You’re meant to drink it, not snort it. Here, try another.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know.” I took another, feeling stupid, and tried a cautious sip. The foam was delicious, light and spicy, with a sweet aftertaste. I licked my lips. “How much for a whole cup? A tall one with a straw?”

  “Three tokens,” said the vendor. “Ginger again, or will you try another flavor?”

  “Just ginger’s fine.” I held out my phone, and it chirped to say I’d paid. I took a strange pride in that, how naturally I did it. I hadn’t thought I’d be able to, when I first opened the box. The manual had been gibberish, full of words I didn’t understand. I’d dropped that in the trash, but my phone had lit up. I’d poked at it, fascinated, and taken a picture of my nostrils. I’d found a map of the city and an app that brought a plumber, huffing, to my door. I’d found a message from Elli, directing me to my new bank account, overflowing with my new allowance. And now I’d bought something, one chirp and done.

  I drifted back to Lock and Ona, sipping through my straw. Ona didn’t seem to notice me, but Lock cocked a brow.

  “What’d you get?”

  “Ginger foam. Want a sip?” I offered my straw, but he shook his head.

  “I just had some ice cream thing. I don’t want to get sick on the ride home.”

 
“Suit yourself.” I took another drink, savoring the chill. “It doesn’t feel right, does it? How we can have this, just...” I waved my phone at him. “I have more tokens on here than I could earn in a lifetime. I can buy myself some ginger thing, or a dress I’d wear once, and that’s just... okay?”

  Lock looked thoughtful. “I don’t—”

  “And up ahead, that tall building—” Elli nudged us toward a great fang of a thing, jutting up through the clouds. Despite its shape, it looked friendly, its heavy oak doors flung wide. Tables nestled in its shadow, set up for chess. Several games were in progress, and another about to start. “That’s the library,” said Elli. I gaped, confused.

  “That whole thing’s full of books?”

  “Mostly, yep.” Elli smiled. “There’s computers as well, and a café if you’re hungry, but mostly, it’s books.”

  “And anyone can read them?”

  “That’s what they’re for.”

  I shook my head, baffled. I remembered Jasper mentioning a library, back at Ben’s camp. I’d pictured something small and cozy, a few shelves, a chair or two. This building was massive. I couldn’t imagine there being enough books in the world to fill it.

  I glanced at Lock and saw my bewilderment reflected in his eyes. Ona seemed to have lost interest and was admiring a stand full of necklaces. She took one and held it to her throat, then hung it back on its peg. She’d bought some bracelets already, I noticed. Both her wrists rattled with them, plastic ones and metal ones, silver and gold. I looked away.

  “You’d need a map,” said Lock. I blinked.

  “A map? For what?”

  “For that library. It’s huge. Everything is.” A shudder passed through him, and he frowned. “I thought I’d scored my folks a mansion in the Stars. Next to our place up here—next to any place up here—I know they’ll still love it, but...”

  “I know.” I tilted my head back, stared at the towers till my head swam. I wondered who lived up there, what they thought of us Dirtbags. If they thought of us at all, or just basked in what they had. You wouldn’t need to think, up here, not if you didn’t want to. My first night, I hadn’t slept. I was too entranced with my phone. I’d played games, played music, just played till the sun came up. I’d forgotten, almost, how scared I was, and every time I’d remembered, I’d found an orange to fling or a bubble to bob, a little blip on my screen to let me know I had a message.

  “Now, Ona and Lock, you’ve been here for your update, but Myla, if you look past the fountain, that’s Lazrad Corp headquarters.” Elli pointed down a side-street at a slim silver tower. I squinted, surprised. It didn’t look any different from the dozen towers around it. Still, I started toward it, eager to explore.

  “Can we go in?”

  “By appointment only, I’m afraid.” Elli moved to block my way. “We can visit the aquarium, though—or…you like birds, right? There’s an aviary in the garden district where they don’t clip their wings.”

  “I want a pet,” said Ona. “Can we get one for the house? I saw dogs back there. I like the black ones.”

  “No dogs,” said Elli. “It’s a shared house. But we can check out some pocket pets if you’d like.”

  “What’s down there?” I veered down a narrow alley where the shops stood huddled close. Washing hung on lines between balconies, fluttering in the breeze. Potted plants bloomed in doorways and smoke rose from outdoor grills. It felt homey, I thought, a place I’d fit in. Or at least, come closer to fitting in.

  “Not that way,” said Elli. “That’s just houses. Boring.”

  “But—”

  “You can explore that way any time. But the pet shop’s back here.”

  I followed reluctantly, lagging behind. Now that the shopping district had lost its novelty, I found myself distracted by the backstreets. I caught glimpses of neighborhoods not so unlike my own in the Dirt, gray little apartment blocks and tacky neon signs, old bikes chained to lampposts with their baskets full of junk. My heart leapt at the sight of them, so eagerly it hurt. I felt home in my bones, and I wanted to run to it. Ona’s voice, sharp with impatience, cut through my reverie.

  “If you don’t hurry up, I’m getting a spider.”

  “Do that, and I’ll squish it.” I jogged to catch up, head pounding from the sun. The sweetness from my ginger foam had turned bitter on my tongue.

  “I’m getting a hope chest,” said Ona. “Filling it with presents for two years from now. Mom and Dad can look through it and know I was thinking of them the whole time.”

  A train shot overhead with a long, tortured shriek. I forced a smile to keep from joining in.

  We explored every day, me and Lock and Ona. Sometimes Elli joined us, but mostly she didn’t. We had maps on our phones, but we followed our senses—a lovely voice sang to us, and we pursued it through the city. We searched through shops and blind alleys all the way to the opera house, but we hadn’t bought tickets. The doorman barred our way. Ona held up her phone, recording the singer, and she preened like she’d won something.

  Our noses led us to cafés and food stands, odd little restaurants where you cooked your own lunch. We were always hungry. Food was sold everywhere, but only in morsels, two bites of dumpling in a nest of spun sugar; a delicate skewer of roast eggplant was gone in three bites.

  Lock led us to a park, drawn by the spill of red flowers from some high, wanton vine. We found it full of commerce, ten tokens for a boat ride, twenty for a horse-drawn carriage. The horses disturbed me, the way they clopped up from behind, butted your shoulder with their big, bristly muzzles. One of them huffed in Lock’s ear and helped itself to a tuft of his hair. Ona paid for a ride anyway. Lock and I opted for a boat, and we rowed out to the middle of the lake.

  “It’s quiet here,” he said. “But loud as well.”

  I nodded. I knew what he meant. The Dirt never slept, one shift melting into the next. Industry clanged on and clanged on, and you got used to it. Outside was quiet, the desert so still you’d hear a rat sneeze. Here, sounds came and went without rhythm, the rush of a train, the snort of a horse, a man rattling by with a drinks cart. You got quiet for a while, then a burst of commotion, random shufflings and murmurings that didn’t seem to come from anywhere.

  “I can’t sleep,” I said. “I start to drift off, and then ahhhhhhh. They build a train that floats on air, but they can’t make it stop moaning?”

  “No trains here,” said Lock. He shipped the oars and wiped his hands on his pants. “I like this, on the water.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. It was better out here with the lake lapping at our boat. The sounds of the shore seemed insignificant as the water painted over them. I lay back and watched a fluffy cloud scatter to floss.

  That night, I couldn’t sleep again. I’d shut the doors to my balcony, but the house had its own sounds, the click and hum of the air conditioning, the chattering of birds in the atrium. A full moon had risen over the city, and I could feel it staring at me along two walls of windows. I felt on display, like the lizard Ona had settled on, basking in its terrarium.

  I turned my face to the wall and my hackles rose. I stared back at the moon and couldn’t close my eyes. At last, peeved and restless, I threw my quilt over my shoulders and marched out. I found the living room haunted, the TV tuned to snow. Weird shadows scudded across the ceiling, chasing me through to the kitchen. I checked the fridge and found nothing I wanted—strange, puffy cookies, more marshmallow than crunch, meat sliced so thin I could trace its capillaries like maps. It looked raw to my eye, still bloody. A bottle of juice lurked in one corner, green and sort of menacing, whitish chunks floating on its surface.

  I left the kitchen behind and went downstairs. The birds were awake and all lined up on their perch. They had long, hooked beaks and black, leathery heads, red ears and red shoulders raw as wounds. They stopped chattering at the sight of me, like I’d crashed their secret bird meeting.

  “Sorry,” I told them. “Can’t seem to sleep.” />
  “Me neither.”

  I jumped and shrieked. The birds did the same, maybe mocking, maybe scolding. I whirled to confront Lock.

  “What do you think you’re doing, lurking in the dark?”

  “Same as you, from the looks of it.” He stood up and stretched. “That moon’s way too bright. Where can you go where it’s dark here?”

  “If I knew, I’d be there already.” I stuck a finger in the birdcage. “You think they bite?”

  “Yes.” Lock pulled a face. “I tried that earlier, and they one hundred percent do.”

  I pulled my finger back out. “I hate the nights,” I said. “I just—either I lie there trying to sleep, but that’s not my bed, or I get on my phone, and I’m—”

  “That orange game.” Lock drove his fist into his palm. “I hate that game. It sucks hours of your life, but there’s no end, is there? You can’t win. You just can’t put it down, even when it makes you miserable.” He shook his head rapidly. “Not that I’m miserable, exactly. But it’s weird, going from a big family to—you can hear them all breathing, puttering around in the night. You can wait on the porch and someone’ll always come sit with you. Here, I’m just...”

  “I know.”

  “I keep wondering what they’re doing—how May’s getting on in the factory, if Billy’s learning to read. If Mom’s hanging in there...”

  “It’ll be better for her in the Stars,” I said. “The air’s cleaner up there.”

  “Down there to us, now.”

  “We were going to look for the grates, me and Ona. Maybe sing so our folks would hear, or drop a note through the cracks.” I watched one of the birds crack a nut, gripping it in one claw while it pecked through the shell. “We can’t, though. It’s—”

  “Under a quarantine district. I had the same idea.” Lock tugged at my quilt. “What are you wearing under that?”