Chapter 25

 

Rob set a sedate pace as we walked.

In place of the rust and bleak depression of Block D, the western sides of Block N projected an unexpected feeling of welcome and warmth. Unlike the plaza, which had become possessed by a party-like and energized atmosphere, the people here chattered in low voices, sheltered from the rain as they mingled within the opened entryways.

Instead of the compulsory barrier to control access and maintain efficiency, the locks I'd seen on our short stroll seemed more like extensions of each resident's home. From our low vantage point, I caught sight of framed artwork attached to one of the walls within a dwelling ahead, a paisley print of a red flower.

Warmth poured outward, pressing against my face like a velvety pillow as we approached.

Within, a man and woman waved at us cheerfully as they took notice, snuggled together on a small seating arrangement Dora would've—possibly quite literally—killed someone to own. It was the couple who'd glanced back at me when they'd returned their bowls. The half-mask of the jacket's hood was thankfully in place, stretching with my expression as my mouth dropped open in shock and we continued to walk smoothly by.

Rob's face filled with a rivaling cheerfulness as he waved and turned back forward. His head gave a little sideways sway to our left side, a signal to re-enter the maze of buildings as we meandered by, just a pair of travelers on our way to an indeterminate destination.

Almost all of the open locks, at least the ones with people gathered or lounging within, seemed to be fully furnished and decorated. The extra illumination given off by the thresholds gave the region a cozy, almost blissful atmosphere.

I glanced back. I quite honestly couldn't help myself.

I watched as the locks and their brightness faded into dim motes of light within the gloom, like ships parted on a stormy sea as the rain intensified. The falling deluge acted as a curtain to separate me from the idyllic scenes and details behind us. Extended balconies, warmth, cheer, friendship, camaraderie, and comfort.

All were functionally impossible within my old block. Whether by pure happenstance or design, I was uncertain, but less uncertain than I had been before this entire ordeal began.

The lanes were fairly empty once the rains had begun. From my observations as we strolled, almost anyone who had a home nearby had returned, waiting out the clock until the next shift rotation. I imagined what it must feel like to bask in the moment. To relax as the sounds of the canal and rain washed over me.

Could life really be like this?

It wasn't the first time I'd asked. Though the tone changed depending on the event, the question remained the same. I'd asked when my mother and I established our first new home in the Capsule Bays; I'd done it again when we'd first moved to the Stacks, and a third time when Dora and I became an item.

A stiff, katabatic wind chilled my face and forced me back into the present. A katabatic wind, where an air mass travels downslope by gravity to force higher-density air into the lower-density areas of the Stacks, was a consistent problem in City 17 where the hillsides bordered the line of the Exclusion Zones. We had to be well educated and aware of when and how sudden winds could cause issues with the equipment and storage at The Port. The moisture and excessive lateral forces played havoc with sensors and servos alike.

Rob navigated onward as he led us on a meandering path set to re-enter the maze of buildings to the east. A thought occurred to me then. A Greek term often used in mythos.

Huh. Katabasis, the descent.

My face became obscured by the jacket's hood. The chilled rain dribbled along my cheeks, leaking down along my neck like a sliver of fear. The Stacks slowly progressed beside us like the walls of a tunnel yet again. Perhaps that's what I was. A mere shade on a katabasis. A descent into the underworld, away from a past life I was no longer tied to like the old myths.

My eyes locked onto the shape of Rob's hood. He was ahead of me, steadily guiding me toward the noise of the canal. Chiron the ferryman, transporting souls across the rivers Styx and Acheron to the underworld. I fought the urge to comment, instead making a choice to follow on autopilot, noting we were crossing another zone boundary as we trod upon the lines and continued on.

We'd crossed the threshold from M to N what felt like yet another lifetime ago but was realistically less than an hour past. This new boundary led from N to P, northward. Truthfully? I had to admit, especially to myself, I didn't actually have much of a clear idea where the Blocks were in relation to each other.

"Rob," I said. "You mind answering a few questions for me?"

Rob slowed, allowing me to stand abreast with him. The front of his hood turned slightly in my direction, letting me know I had his ear. "Sure." He said, "Shoot."

"Who was the girl?"

I could only see the side of his mouth. A Cheshire Cat smile in the gloom, bright and animated as it slowly spread in a mischievously teasing manner. "The girl at the cart?"

"No," I said in reply. "The one with the green speckled eyes."

His chin lifted ever so slightly upward.

With his hood angled, it reminded me of a cobra, sniffing the air with its tongue. The grin had disappeared. "Let's get closer to the canal; it should be safer to talk once we're further past the markings and away from the stacks."

"Safer?" I wanted to ask, but he gave me a slight shake of his head as he led us onward. I was curious, but not enough to stop our progress as the gloomy sky remained the grey and overcast color above. Our new direction took us somewhat parallel to the canal line while the water fell from the sky in layers into the turbid water. Whitecaps roared past, challenging the thunder in sheer volume on their way southward as we slowed our pace.

"Okay." Rob said, "You get two questions. Go."

"Two?! Why only two?"

He stopped to stare at me. "Price. Do you not know how to count?!"

"What?"

"That was two questions."

"Was it?!"

"Four."

"How was that four?!" I demanded.

Rob sighed. The heavy sigh saved for the hopeless and incredibly dense. I grinned at him. "Owen," he said, "ask me what you're going to ask."

"But I thought you wer--"

He glared at me. I decided not to push the matter further as he began to walk again.

I followed, collecting my thoughts.

"Seriously, Rob. What are we doing out here? I'm blind. I've been following you around. I haven't asked many questions, but I'm blind and flailing here. So much of this doesn't make sense to me. What's with the markings between blocks? Why is life so different in N than in D? How could you just dump three months of wages on ONE meal for me?!"

I'd begun ranting without intending to. Rob's choice to bring us here was a good one, though never above the volume levels of the rushing water, my voice had risen. The expulsion had been brief but intense. I felt as if I panted for breath.

Rob sighed.

"I get it, Owen. It's a lot to take in, and seeing the differences has to have been hard on you. The entire reason you haven't been able to come here wasn't just because you didn't want to." He went quiet. He was keeping his breathing calm. His jaw was clenched.

"It's the protocols, isn't it?" I said, "I heard the term 'deviation.'"

"Yes," Rob said. "That's exactly why. The worst of it is the 'normal' people who judge it don't realize what's going on either. They live mostly oblivious, not even aware anything is different. It's all they've ever known."

We walked in silence beside the canal water's roar as I absorbed what he'd told me.

Like titans battling beyond the horizon, large booms lit the landscape with flashes of dazzling clarity. For once in conscious memory, the Spires weren't visible as I walked in their shadow. Water dribbled along the upper ridge of my nose, a sensation that made me want to wipe my face clean. I imagined we were lost within the fabric of the world; hidden by the torrential rain.

Rob made up his mind to speak to me again.

"We're on our way to meet Sam. That's who you saw in the plaza. For whatever reason, she messed up when the two of you locked eyes and broke a rule. Then your stomach made everything worse. I had to think fast."

"So you noogied me."

I wanted to be upset but had to admit even then: it did the job well of controlling the situation.

Instead I focused on something else, he said. "A rule? Sounds like there are more."

Rob nodded. "Craft rule number one: Never, and I mean never, let anyone get the drop on you."

"You've said that before: 'Craft.' What's that even mean?" Fat droplets pelted my brow from above as I looked over at him.

"Manipulation. Adaptation," he said, "it's making sure others don't know what you're doing while you're doing it. THE Craft."

Like many things Rob had told me recently, this was one of those big noun words. It meant something important.

I looked over at him, "THE?"

"Hush, Price. Or do you not want to learn these? You're going to need them if you're going to work with us—me."

My eyes widened as I realized what he was telling me: this was like a Rob-ism. "Sorry," I said, pulling an imaginary zipper across my lips with my fingers.

"Rule two: Don't let the marks know you're watching them..." And so he continued, listing rule after rule. I probably should've taken notes, but it was too wet, too cold, and we were walking too fast for me to do so. I just listened and absorbed; at least the list wasn't particularly long.

We spent a good twenty minutes of walking as he filled me in on the real instructions he wanted to convey: What to do and who to speak with if we were ever separated. His eyes roamed the shoreline casually as if taking in the sights, demonstrating Rule 12: Always keep a low profile wherever you can. He had me repeat several of the parts back to him to ensure I followed along and wouldn't forget.

"So what are you going to do if something happens to me?" he asked.

"Stay hidden; stay out of sight. Wait until you, Sam, or possibly Frank, signal that it’s time to go.”

“What happens if both of us split in opposite directions and I leave you?”

“Bug out immediately. Make my way toward The Glow by following the canal paths. Find The Midnight Brew, ask for someone named Idina, and say the code phrase you had me memorize.”

Though I believed the entire thing was a bit silly, I did understand how the entire process could act as an additional layer to an already onion-like process for communication. It was a bit of an archaic system overall, but, considering I hadn't had a clue Rob used any of this stuff the entire time I'd known him, I just internally shrugged and did as directed. Sometimes you just needed to go with the flow if the flow wasn't broken.

There were differing phrases, counterphrases, and small hand gestures included for confirmation and authentication. The idea was you'd be able to confirm you were really speaking to who you were meant to. I saw some obvious flaws with the system, but the hand gestures were not unlike the port hand signals we used while working and so were easy to replicate and repeat. Rob watched my hands as intently as he could and muttered, “Good enough," as we finally came upon what I assumed would be our destination: A green space. One of the largest ones bordering the canal.

Rob moved forward, looking back at me with an expectant face.

"Let's go introduce you to Sam."