Called, page 4
What an adventure that might have been: a little storefront in the Junction, maybe with a room above it. I’d sell some Conglomerate basics and offer repairs. I would have spent every septend on the farm, helping Jeb and Marya. I can only imagine how much harder it must be for the pair of them to manage now. I could outperform them at twelve, and that was ten solarii back.
My breath caught in my throat, realizing that it was only be Marya now.
I refocused on my task and finished disconnecting the various lengths of tubing that linked to the central stabilizer of the reconstitutor, dropping them into a sink full of sudsy water. While they soaked, I attacked the housing with a thick-bristled brush. Like anything that processes emulsion, the valves are prone to collecting debris. Once it starts to coagulate, it doesn’t dislodge on its own.
There aren’t words gross enough for what came out of my first reconstituter.
Besides, Marya would have never let me open a shop in the Junction. If I hadn’t started sneaking away, I might still be on the farm, restricted to the back fields and hiding in the attic. Looking back now, it must have been some instinct inside me to survive that kicked in.
Jeb and Marya didn’t own the farm outright, it was theirs under the terms of a “land grand-exception.” An ancestor of Marya’s paid the Conglomerate for a deed to five plots of land. Exceptions were no longer offered because the Conglomerate wanted it all back. On more than one occasion, agents came to offer ever-higher sums to try to buy the farm from Jeb and Marya.
I shuddered, remembering hiding out by the well for almost an entire sol because the agents were surveying the property to make a new offer. It was a small space, and I swear I always felt a spider in my hair or on my neck.
I understand Marya only wanting the best for me, but she was so shortsighted. She could only think of keeping me safe in the present moment.
But life is always changing.
Once I learned about exceptions at the library, I knew I would not be able to stay on the farm in the event of their deaths. There were no records to establish me as a member of their family, and no other relations could claim the farm. That meant the land returned to the government, and I would have nowhere to go. Most orphans become wards but somehow, Marya got me to their farm, but she would never explain how she managed it. She refused to talk about how she had done it but was explicit that I was not now nor was I ever to be registered for a Conglomerate identity. The trouble was, without one of those, I didn’t exist in the virtual world.
“You know, kiddo, this talk about Antioch has me concerned,” Pauly told me one of the first times I spent the nox in the library’s basement workshop. “I have never asked you anything personal, nor am I about to start; a librarian never pries! I do, however, feel compelled to point out that in order to enroll in classes and earn knowledge credits, you will have to register for a Conglomerate identity. Unless you already have one, that is.”
My heart sank.
“As far as the Conglomerate is concerned, someone without an ID doesn’t exist.”
I swallowed hard.
“It is rather common, I suppose, for Exurbers to put off registering children,” Pauly added. “Few can afford it and, sadly, far too many don’t make it to school age, let alone adulthood.”
“What would I need to apply for an identity?”
“Digital records that show you are who you say you are.”
“Any chance a librarian knows how to get those records?”
“If you were born in a Suburb or a center, you would have been registered at birth,” he said, his eyes twinkling again. “If there’s no record of your birth, we’ll have to use an Academic Identity request, which is exactly what they’re for. Since you don’t have any, we can use coursework to verify your identity. So, we just need a name.”
I abandoned picking at the loose threads on the worn sofa. I didn’t mind that it was shabby; at least it was a place I felt at home. I thought for a moment before deciding, “River.”
“River…how about…hmm, Mason. There are plenty of Masons in 31.”
I resisted the sudden urge to gag as one of the reconstitutor’s tubes vomited up a clot of milky beige pre-sustenance that splattered across over the pile of tubes in the sink. Having scrubbed the nozzles, I was now running a round brush through each of the tubes. Averting my eyes, I used the sprayer to do my best to break up the clot so it would disappear down the drain.
This is exactly why I do the deep clean!
Once I finish this, there are no other chores unless I take apart the air filtration system.
My mind returned to the URL bar again: Jeb said there was more to learn.
There’s only one person I can think of who might know.
And she doesn’t want to see me.
I can’t go out there. It’s my fault Jeb is gone, and I can’t bear to hurt her again. The first time I hurt her was more than enough.
For two solarii, I snuck off to the library at dusk and holed away to study. I worked the farmland as quickly as possible and slept as little as possible to have as much time as possible. Once “River Mason” had enough knowledge credits, all that was left before admission to Academy was a practical exam.
With Pauly’s help, I spent two lunerii on a project—a replicable method of the proxy relay I had set up to extend service to the farm. My innovation would extend Conglomerate signals, allowing them to carry one another instead of relying on a single direct connection. It took a lot of effort and required me to set up some tech on the farm.
I could blame the series of one late nox after another, but I got sloppy. I was halfway through my presentation to the examiner when I spotted Marya entering the library. Pauly stopped her before she came close to the exam room, and after a short exchange, she walked out. I still don’t know how, but I finished—with a perfect score, no less. Once the examiner linked my credential to River Mason’s identity, I flew out of the exam room, towards the desk.
“It seems your secrets have caught up with you, kiddo. Someone came in asking if I’d seen anyone matching your description. Said they were her kin, a little Jones girl. I won’t get in the middle of anything between you and your folks, but you should get on back home. I told her I had no Joneses in the library.”
“What makes you think she was looking for me?”
His look was answer enough. I remember feeling crestfallen as I turned for the doors, the excitement of my success overcast by looming clouds of Marya’s anger.
When I climbed out of the ravine on the other end, Jeb had been there waiting for me with a sad look. “I should have stopped you long ago.”
“You knew?”
He nodded sadly. “I didn’t tell her, though. She found out on her own. You left some tech in your room.”
“I was studying so late…how much trouble am I in, Jeb?”
He put his arm around me, leading me to the house. “She loves you too much to think straight sometimes. Remember that, will you?”
Inside, Marya sputtered with rage, nattering on about how dangerous the Conglomerate was. “After all we’ve done for you, you go and give yourself to them?” she howled. “How long have you been sneaking around?”
“I have been studying for three solarii - real digital courses, too!” Figuring there was nothing left to lose, I continued, “I was in the Junction to pass the practical exam, securing a scholarship to the Academy at Antioch!”
“You what? By the stars, child, what have you done?”
Only Jeb waved goodbye after I packed my meager possessions and stormed out of the house. That stillness settled over me, and I just numbly boarded the Expressway. I didn’t even stop to say goodbye to Pauly. I just stopped being Clementine and became River Mason.
I realized rather quickly how hard that was going to be. My new identity existed virtually, but I never thought about how to answer personal questions. My first sol at Antioch, in a haze of anesthesia, I was shocked to find that I would share a tiny, narrow room with a gorgeous Assyrian girl named Sefu Betenda. My cheeks still burn with the memory of how I stumbled inside, so taken aback by the thought of not even having the tiniest bit of private space.
“You must be River. Hi, I’m Sefu, but everyone calls me Bets.”
She was tall, lean, and strong with intricately braided hair. Her lips were full; her honey-colored eyes danced among the shells and feathers woven through her hair. I had no idea what to say, so I sighed and pointed to my bags. She nodded, and I busied myself unloading my few possessions while my mind raced through questions I never thought to ask myself.
Like any normal person, Sefu wanted to learn about the person sharing her space.
Once I had unpacked and stowed my bag, I didn’t know what else to do but sit on the bed. Sefu sat down across from me.
“So, your parents make a big deal about leaving you here?”
Of all the places to start.
“Um… no, they’re um… uh, dead, actually…”
“Dang, I’m sorry. I put my feet in my mouth every sol, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.” I kept quiet. She seemed to think about something for a moment before lowering her voice, “Does that mean you are…undocumented?”
“What? No, I have an identity…”
“Of course you do, now. You must have one…but if your parents died, why weren’t you made a Conglomerate ward? Orphans don’t get placed with families. They’re put into the system. Everyone knows that.”
Do they?
“That is not what happened to me.”
“Where did you grow up then?”
I couldn’t pretend to be from somewhere I’d never been.
“I’m from souvern Jericho, Exurb 31. There are a lot of Masons out there and…I grew up with, um, family.”
“Oh, so they kept you under the radar. You’re lucky, Riv. Sounds way better than being a Conglomerate ward.” She looked at me knowingly.
The weight of the conversation hung between us, threatening to pull me under.
“So, what are your favorite entertainments? I can’t get enough of Death Match, but I am also unable to keep from bingeing new chapters of The Valtarans. What about you? Do you have any favorite programs? Maybe a boyfriend back home?”
I chuckled before I could stop myself, quickly regaining my composure. “Actually, um, Sefu?”
“Bets, please. If you don’t mind.”
“Bets, right. Look, you’ve got me. I am a Conglomerate ward and don’t want anyone to know. So, do you think you could not, um, tell anyone about my, you know, circumstances? I’m afraid of what people might think, and I must study hard if I want to be able to pay off my scholarship.”
“Scholarships take a long time to pay back, but I get it if you don’t place well. I respect you for saying something. I won’t ask anymore, but I’ll do the same if you keep an eye out for me. Anyone who asks me, you’re alright, but keep to yourself. That work for you?”
Turns out, Bets wasn’t so bad in the end. She became one of the most popular girls in our class. We drifted apart, naturally. Often, girls like that aren’t faithful friends, but Bets was surprisingly true to her word. I exchanged pleasantries with most everyone, had no social struggles, and no one ever seemed interested in my background.
I fitted the last tube into the housing and reattached the face that covers the whole of it when in operation. I slid it back into place on the counter and wiped everything down one last time.
I looked around my unit for something else to occupy myself and I felt the pull of the oculars again. Under their spell, all of this would slip away for a while…
Service or no service, you promised, Clem!
I changed my jumper for one with a hood, taking one last smell of Jeb before the laundering press steamed it clean. I picked out my newest mask and a fresh pair of gloves.
Without really thinking about it, I started repacking my satchel. I haven’t carried it on my walks, but I used it to keep a few essentials on hand at the Academy.
Am I going out to 32?
No.
Yes?
If we are, we’re doing it right.
I retrieved the scrip from the workbench. Jeb said to use it to pay for the Expressway so they wouldn’t know if I used it. I’ll still need to bring River Mason’s identity to get back into my unit, but Marya hates tracking, so I’ll have to find a place to ditch it along the riverbed…
Like Jeb said: be careful.
Cover your tracks.
JER-32-1297.A-E
Marya’s hands shook as she drained the last of the accelerant from another jug. Even with her head swirling from the terramalt, she knew the weathered old barn would catch fire quickly if she spread it along the perimeter. If she helped them raze the walls and ceiling, no one would have had any reason to look for anything under the foundation.
Would any of this make a difference?
She could see that the war against the Conglomerate was long lost.
What could one old woman do against all that power?
For that matter, what could one little girl do?
Marya had made a promise to keep Clem safe until the time came. Her father said she needed to grow up, but Marya suspected Jonas had planned to use the child somehow. As the solarii passed, Marya came to hate her oath and, even now, only kept it in part. She would keep Clem safe, but she would do whatever she could to see the time never came for whatever Jonas had in mind.
In the end, she chose her promise over breaking her own heart. Casting Clem out of their home had been the only choice then, just as destroying the farm was the only option now.
The only way to keep her safe is to make sure everything under this barn gets destroyed.
She tossed the empty container into a corner. With the perimeter soaked, she turned to the bundle she’d brought down from the house. Notching the basket into the crook of her elbow, she descended into the cellar. She hadn’t been down here in solarii. Without Clem to feed, she and Jeb subsisted on much less, making do with the meager crop of beans and grains they could still collect. From inside an old scarf, she withdrew the stack of notebooks that recorded their great experiment and set them on the shelf. She stroked the binding and looked up to the rafters where she had long ago hidden the pages she’d torn from them.
All of it seemed the work of another lifetime now.
Everything before Clem seemed foreign.
The child was a balm, soothing the burns and bruises of having to make their way without venturing into the Conglomerate world. Their little family couldn’t draw attention to itself, but they still had needs, and non-Conglomerate sources were more expensive. Somehow, despite all the obstacles, they had managed it. She and Jeb and Clem had been happy—a little family for more than a dozen solarii. Their life was far from lavish, but their joy greatly outweighed their miseries.
Marya had always wanted to be a mother, and when Clem came along, she leapt at the chance. That baby girl had been her lifeline, tethering her in a world she struggled to understand. Clem and Jeb were the roots she needed, a safe haven from the wildness of her fears. Jeb held her up when Clem left, but now he, too, was gone. He rarely strayed from her side…which is why Marya suspected that his death was no accident at all.
Jeb promised he wouldn’t tell Clem anything but why else would he leave the farm.
What other secrets had he been keeping?
Marya’s stomach turned at the sight of some long-forgotten potatoes. She knew herself to be paranoid, but this felt more certain than her usual anxious thinking. The old fears were surfacing again.
As a young woman, she had a bright future: admission to a prestigious Souvern Republic University, a promising career. Biotechnology captivated her mind, she was excited by the potential for technology to challenge the boundaries of the known universe.
Jonas was unlike anyone she had ever known. He seemed touched by greatness, bigger himself than the sum of everyone else together. His instincts were impeccable, on hand to give the smallest little nudge to make an ordinary effort more successful. He was a beam of light and being in his circle had been intoxicating. As their work grew more esoteric—chasing the mythical mathematics that underlie reality—Marya was the first to see the danger. Jonas was poking at the foundations of the universe, bending the boundaries of knowledge so far that they might break them rather than chart a new horizon.
Danger seems exciting at first, the brilliance of its allure drawing moths with ease.
That was why she left NovaGen.
Jeb chose her over the work, something she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t have done it without him. His skills were different from hers. He could access, become invisible within, or change any system without being detected. He secured the land exception for them. He built the bolt holes when she grew scared of visitors. He calmed her when she wound herself up. When he turned up at her door with his possessions, he told her she was one thing he couldn’t live without.
He never strayed from her side for the rest of his life.
Until the sol he died.
When he went on one final bloody errand for Jonas.
And look what had happened.
She wiped tears from her eyes, flinging them away along with the sad thoughts.
Jeb was gone, and she was alone at the end.
The loss of him felt sure to carve her heart from her chest, but there was no denying the truth of the matter: the Conglomerate would be here for the farm the next sol. The terms of the exception were clear.
She’d start the fire in the house. It wouldn’t defy explanation for the barn to burn alongside it. The weather of her youth was long gone, but the Exurb was still plenty windy. Instead of bringing the rains of rebirth, it only stung your eyes. She dragged another accelerant container to the collection of pathetic dried stalks that passed for hay in Jericho. She gathered the grasses into her basket, dousing them in the incendiary fluid. She exited the barn and laid them out in a gently sloping curve leading toward the house.
The Conglomerate was cheap, and they would use the foundation rather than laying another. They needed the Exurbs full of citizens capable of the grunt labor they competed against one another to secure. Routinely suspected of minor transgressions, there was always a whisper of suspicion. On the rare occasions Marya saw one of their neighbors, she knew they’d just as soon sell her out to the Guardians as wave at her. Without guaranteeing the basic comforts of life, Exurbers were easily manipulated…especially if they thought they could gain an advantage. They craved exclusivity and status, clamoring for benefits and exchanging their lives for them without question.
