Chapter 22

 

The scent of the food was almost maddening as snippets of discussion from the groups around us drifted into my ears.

“They just woke me up, asking if I saw someone walking by—” I overheard one woman ahead of us saying, “Right from a dead sleep. No idea what’s going on.”

A man with a hat bearing a TxCorp logo let out a cloud of smoke. “Feels like they woke up half the Block.” He'd blown it to the side, away from the majority of the group he was with, but managed to irritate those on the gantry as his exhale rose into the faces of those above.

There were coughs from the unexpected assault as several of the members scowled, staring downward in a vain search for a source. The vapor and smoke trails were pouring upward like stovepipe stacks as they drifted into the light coverage beyond. There were simply too many people to pick out one individual with accurate ease.

A man two levels upward pointed to the horizon. “Is that rain ever going to get here? Thunder’s been rumbling all night.” He and a few others around him were looking outward and across the waterways, and I swiveled to follow their gaze. There were...lights. In the distance across the canal. I blinked twice, trying to make sure I was seeing what I was actually seeing. I didn't recall those being there before.

But I guess I haven't really looked at the canal much either. Huh.

“You know, they’re saying on CorpTx there was a death at the Port,” a heavyset man said to a thin woman with a Cupid-like mouth nearby. The two were standing with a third man in the line next to the one Rob and I were currently in. “Supervisor had eyewitness of one worker pushing another into a heavy loader lane.” The man smashed his hands together for emphasis, causing the woman's eyes to match my own as they widened.

"A Deviation?" She asked in a trembling voice. She clutched her blanket closer to her body as if seeking warmth.

"It must have been." The man with a caf cup said from beside them. Heavyset's eyes narrowed in distaste, but neither looked at him. Cup spoke again with an air of certitude, "If they were following protocol, I guarantee you everyone on that shift rotation had to have been updated with scripting to keep them from stepping anywhere near the hazard lines. They'd NEED to be an outlier enough to even be able to THINK about it, let alone step anywhere near it. It's the only way."

She shivered at the news. Her eyes locked onto his with rapt attention. "How could anyone even be a Deviant? Don't they have systems for that?”

Cup bided his time, basking in the directed attention as he took a sip of caf, looking into the contents as he swirled it before speaking again. He was making sure he had her full attention before continuing. “Dunno. That's well below my pay grade, but don’t you worry." He glanced up, side-eyeing her slyly as he squared his shoulders. "That'd never happen on MY rotation.” It was like watching a bad drawing of a preening Prince Charming. Heavyset rolled his eyes, mirroring my own sentiment as Cup continued, “I’ll make sure we put some new procedures in place to protect you. Don't you worry. Okay?”

Blegh.

Less Prince Charming, More Gaston. Puffed out chest and all.

Cupid-lips clutched her blanket around her, no longer paying the slightest attention to either man as she looked at the ground, her brows furrowed in an expression of internal concern. The two men on either side, oblivious to her trepidation, glared at each other furiously over her. The beginning stages of a simmering and silent war where—at the minimum—a very tense conflict could last years if not decades if it hadn't already.

Had I not been so shocked at the news, I would’ve likely laughed at the scene. A Deviation. The line moved again, forcing Rob and me to move along as we pushed forward and past the trio. I earmarked the term for a future discussion.

As the lines alternated their position, it wasn't lost on me that several people had turned to watch our passing. Their roaming eyes wandered before coming back to us in stolen looks as they broke away again. Within the impromptu gatherings of friends, family, acquaintances, and—judging by the death stares now trading between Heavyset and Cup—rivalries, we were a conspicuous curiosity in what would be considered common and normal for the present environment. Our appearance marked us as obvious outsiders.

I wasn't sure what to do about it, but Rob took the initiative as his body language shifted. His face, ever casual and affable without an unsettlingly rolling eye, smiled and waved at the next cluster of people, who mirrored the projection of friendly energy he now radiated. He shared small greetings as we crept our way through the growing crowds within the lines and made sure to feed the rumor of the Port side death back to curious expressions before they could ask less welcome questions like, “Who are you?” and “Where did you come from?”

His words, served on a platter with a silver tongue, occasional frown, and friendly quip, aided in igniting discussion like a spark to kindling. The act of feeding the fervor to the Gods of Gossip also benefited us, as attention was pulled away from us and into the local cells within the chain links of the people around us. Even without Rob’s spark, conversations quickly turned toward news of the Port side death around us, which had spread like wildfire from unknown sources independent of his efforts.

The switch-up left us forgotten and ignored like fish in a rolling surf. Never too fast and never too slow, we began to meld within the small pockets of humanity like minnows in a burbling stream. The movement of the large gathering in the line's progression allowed us to shift from eddy to eddy. Rob continued to deftly lead me away from the attention of the people around us as, internally, I struggled with a sense of disquiet the atmosphere within the plaza gave me.

Even without the distraction of the rumor mill going on around me, I couldn't keep my eyes still. I had already tried to blank my mind, letting my vision rove around to drink in the spectacle of the large impromptu gathering of people. It never would've happened within third rotation's locked-in schedule. The, what some would say, exceedingly long cycle periods for the entrance and exit process via the Lock systems didn't make for easy socializing in Block D. People handled their business to keep the entrance and exit to and from Pods to an absolute bare minimum. Even essentials like food, clothing, and supplies were handled either by drone delivery or by visiting automated supply depot kiosks in close proximity to the transport tube stations along the outskirts.

It led to a sense of space. A sense of quiet.

A sense of...loneliness.

I...Huh.

From what I could see in front of me, the people here in Block M were exiting and entering their Pods with the freedom of a person stepping in and out of a sanitation booth; their Lock cycle times were much closer to what Rob's had been when we'd left his Pod before arriving here.

Turmoil bubbled within me.

Everywhere I looked, things simply appeared—for lack of a more suitable term—"better." The rails and walkways were clean and well maintained. The Pods had fresh coats of paint. The front of the Pods even lacked the rusty spots I'd come to associate with Pod living, and the people looked...vibrant. Almost glowing. The chatter and gossiping gave an atmosphere of festivity to the chilly air. The entirety of how different the open plaza was from anything in Block D, or M for that matter, was outright astonishing.

Considering the earliness of the hour, the absurdity of the environmental difference, and the noise? It was all a bit overwhelming. While large gatherings of people might come outside to socialize or commiserate as a large entity, they were only an occasional and rare thing.

Scheduled.

Planned.

I had been trying to ignore them, but interface display flags had begun to dart around deliriously within my vision like minnows when the word "deviant" had been said. The flags were busy, marking distances, velocity, height, weight, and a number of other pieces of analytical information, as they seemed to do when I became stressed and uncertain of my surroundings.

Overall? It just added to my inner sense of chaos as I closed my eyes and tried the trick that let me rid myself of them the last time. I focused on being calm. Of knowing I had a plan and a next step to take. I opened my eyes. The flags were gone.

"Is this normal?!" I asked Rob quietly, "This kind of gathering in this block, I mean."

He looked back at me, a flash of concern managing to ripple through the mask of joviality he was wearing for the crowd. He'd spotted the uncertainty as he positioned himself to ensure nobody gave us too much attention, arms now crossed to ward off open invitation to approach, taking a small adjusted step inward to make me turn toward him. We were now face-to-face, looking toward each other in the middle of the line but able to see both sides. The man behind us had his back to us, as did the woman in front. Once the gossip had exploded, everyone else had given us a wide berth in relation to the lines as we all uniformly moved forward when a spot opened.

"Take a sec," Rob said softly, beside me now. "It's just like any other day. Pretend it's just a little different from our normal schedule, but 'operations green.' Alright?"

I nodded, squeezing my eyes closed and open again to stand up straighter.

The message was clear: I was trying to look casual but failing. I need to up my game.

I turned my head, with no real plan on what to look at but intending to find something to gaze upon to zone out to; just another tired person waiting for his turn to eat.

Instead, my line of sight made a momentary link with a slender woman's green speckled ones. She was unfamiliar to me, but her optics widened in startled surprise. A sliver of recognition snaked onto her expression as her body language shifted. She was wearing a hooded jacket, much like the one I'd seen on the figure within the multi-display of Rob's Pod.

It was a she after all.

Before I could mentally analyze the obvious coincidence of the detail, Rob gave my arm a warning bump. His booming voice caused me to jump. With the swiftness of a cracked whip, the green speckled gaze broke contact with mine as Rob boisterously said, "Buck up!" and slapped me once to unbalance my stance.

I grunted as the additional mass of his burly frame dwarfed my smaller one. His arm draped over my shoulders, enveloping me as I listed to one side unexpectedly. His weight was difficult to manage. "No need to get so worked up over a bowl of noodles!" he exclaimed, a sloppy grin plastered across his face as he shook me with reckless abandon.

It was likely the WORST possible time to mention noodles.

Like the displeasure of an unseen animal, my stomach decided to make itself known as the rolling growl all but echoed throughout the plaza. I witnessed the corners of Rob's mouth tighten as heads turned in our direction. Conversations within our vicinity petered out as the line around us grew quiet.

I blushed in embarrassment as what felt like hundreds of faces swiveled toward us like security drones alerted by an intruder.

Stupid stomach. Was all I could think as the eyes of the crowd became focused solely toward me.

Uh oh.