Tides of Hysteria Read online

  “Bastards,” said Caia.

  “Indeed. It appears they call to order and then take votes on courses of action.”

  “How arcane.”

  “How esoteric,” added Slay.

  “So basically,” said Uldous. “They’re gonna be voting on whether to up the fight, or acquiesce to demands.”

  Caia sat back and folded her arms. “And you can guess how they’ll vote. Anything to preserve what they have.”

  “Probably,” said Calix. “Unfortunately, over the years, natural selection will have removed anyone from the elite group with even the slightest subversion to pity. History shows they only look out for themselves.”

  Slay leaned in even closer. So close the holo-image almost disintegrated. “What’s the plan?”

  “We attack on two fronts. Pooling our forces with Nash and pushing forward. And we kidnap one of the elites. If we move at the same time, then hopefully one will distract the other and they’ll not be at full strength for either.”

  “Who are we kidnapping?”

  “Your old friend, Joceline. She retreated to the ring for safety, after her home got destroyed. After the ring was attacked, she returned to the city, presuming she was just as safe there then anywhere else.”

  She nodded along. “She did seem to enjoy her autonomy.”

  “We need to move now, though. And by ‘we’, I mean you. Slay, I’ll patch you through Joceline’s location. Take Elissa. This will work better with as few people as possible. Annora will help. Caia, Uldous; grab Nuke and Rylan and head for Nash. I’m sending a message to all our contacts as we speak, to make moves. Hopefully all eyes will be on the 32nd avenue, and we can take Joceline.”

  Still connected

  Slay

  So much for my soak. Slay had still ended up going to 313B, but with Elissa. Not to clean up, but to suit up. It was a nondescript apartment in the outer tower connecting secretly to the Agridome. It was old-form, and hadn’t been renovated or updated for decades; still held the prefab single-unit kitchen cupboards and utility areas, grey laminate, and other wall units housing fold-down beds and hidden compartments, as if the walls had been built around the room. Recessed lights threw triangles of light down walls, and the lounge and bedroom windows overlooked the avenue below. Traffic was sparse. Ad and surveillance drones drifted aimlessly, drawn to activity, triggered by movement. Blind to their activities. Elissa, dressed in dark grey denims, hair high, activated the holo-map and set the projector in the centre of the lounge table. Neon revolved mid-breath and mid-air.

  Calix projected two dots: red and green.

  “There she is.” Elissa bit into an apple, taken from the overflowing fruit bowl kept fully stocked in the kitchen. Freshly harvested, of course.

  “She won’t come easily.” Slay recalled her last visit, the one that ended in flames. The one where Deke saved her. What if he’s around? Deke had not thought twice about murdering Xi, with a bullet shot from behind. If she’d been any slower, she’d be dead herself. She had no doubt about it. Deke had his honour and his conviction, that it was all in servitude to the authority made no difference to him.

  “She’ll be on edge,” agreed Elissa. Joceline had not learned, it seemed, and took possession of another blimp, as though she was too good for both the city, and the ring. Its systems had not been isolated from Neon, and so Annora was able to gain access and control all the primary functions. Meaning the blimp was currently on lockdown. She chewed around the apple core and then dropped it into the recycling unit in the kitchen entrance. “Come on, we best get a move on.”

  They exited and secured the door behind them with an extra, manual lock, and then moved for the stairwell. Their flight drone awaited on the roof.

  “I still can’t believe how little I used to know,” said Slay. “I used to think I was a level above, you know. Part of the system that helped the city run. How naïve I was.”

  “Believe me, I know how you feel. From where I was, to where I am now, I would ever have imagined it.”

  “Would you go back?”

  “Back to the plains?”

  “To the plains. To the bar.”

  “Sure. After we’ve opened the doors. Go and knock a few doors. Dethrone a few queens. You’re welcome to join me. Honestly, you haven’t lived until you’ve blasted across the plain on a hoverbike, wind in your air. You may think you know what freedom is, but it’s nothing compared to that. The link would be no comparison.”

  “I’ll take you up on that for a holiday. No way I could leave, though. I need the city as much as it needs us, right now.”

  “It’s an open invitation.”

  “I look forward to it.” And she did. Visiting the plains or living there were two completely different ideals, with the thought of all that sun and open space giving her a sense of agoraphobia that already fluttered her heartrate whenever she looked out at it.

  On the roof gusted a mild breeze. Neon’s ventilation system was open and encircling their enriched Agridome oxygen. Slay felt an irrational sense of theft as her hair blew back.

  “Help me with this,” Elissa said as she lifted the edge of a tarpaulin.

  Slay grabbed the other end and together they revealed the sleek flight-drone. She called it the fly, for it had an idiosyncratic buzz to the rotors due to the speed modifications that Uldous and Nuke had added. Matte black, with tinted windows, it sliced like a shadow through the air. She entered in the passenger side, while Elissa took the wheel.

  “Annora? You there?” The time for feeling odd as she spoke aloud to someone who wasn’t there had long passed. As had the feeling of creepy unease. That she could roam the city safe in the knowledge that Annora had her back far exceeded any violation she might’ve felt. Especially since it was that very fact that enabled her escape to begin with.

  It also helped that both Annora and Calix were two of the most non-human humans she had ever met. And she had never actually met them, only in the link. They could do things no human had ever been able to do. Seen things no one else had ever seen. And knew more than one person had ever known. They had an aloof aura, probably because they were doing a hundred different things at once. It hurt to think about it too much.

  “Hi, Slay. Hi, Elissa. How’s it going?”

  “Oh you know, just waiting to kidnap an elite.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose you’ll be wanting my help?” Was there a hint of sarcasm there?

  “You think?”

  “I think you’re both more than capable. However, the blimp remains immobile and all camera systems are down. As are the autoturrets. The same cannot be said for the guards.”

  “Is Deke there?”

  “Deke Allinson is unaware that the blimp is under my control, and so has not been called back. He is on patrol.”

  “That’s good. The last thing I want is to have to deal with him.”

  “Ann,” Caia interjected. “Can you patch me through to Uldous?”

  “Sure thing. Here he is.”

  Caia started the rotors.

  “Uldous here.”

  “Hi there. We’re all set. How’s it looking down there?”

  “Cal and Annora are doing their best to cover our tracks, but they can’t stop the eyeballs on our numbers, and word is spreading. They know we’re merging our forces. The numbers on the main perimeter have doubled.”

  “Already?”

  “They’re efficient. You have to give them that.”

  “Maybe a bit too efficient.”

  “Yeah. We were thinking that.”

  Annora’s voice came through, sounding almost indifferent. “They have not had the call to order yet.”

  “Okay,” said Uldous. “Well, nevertheless, strength will be met with strength. I’m not sure the brute force attack will be successful.”

  Slay listened to the silence on the line. Was that doubt echoing through?

  “Is someone going to say something?” Uldous’ voice came through with a hint of desperation attac
hed to it.

  “Sorry,” said Annora. “If you were waiting for my approval to proceed, you have it. Use all the assets that we have set up at your disposal. We have to move before they do, to ensure success.”

  “You never said before,” started Slay, “what you wanted Joceline for?”

  “I don’t believe I did. And neither did Calix. She will give us access to the ring.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We’ll give her no choice. When you have her, take her to low town, Jumpin’ Jax on the 8th avenue. Who knows, if Nash and the rest are successful, maybe we’ll not need her. But she’ll make for good backup.”

  “If she’ll co-operate.” Of that, Slay had her doubts.

  “You’ll be amazed what an immortal will do to preserve their life. There is movement above the ring. I believe they are about to have their call to order. You should all move now before they notice that Joceline has not made an appearance.”

  Slay looked at Elissa, and Elissa looked back. A shared deep breath and a nod and they were airborne, the liftoff smooth. The fly banked right, pushing Slay against the door, and then rose above the towers and traffic; the few remaining cross-city transports, and the myriad surveillance and ad drones. They soared between the blue sky and the city concrete and steel, while the ring hung high above. Slay could just about make out some kind of structure descending from above it – their conference hall perhaps. “It’s beginning.”

  They cut low across the rooftops to stay inconspicuous, invisible to camera. Hopping from stone to stone, between one blimp after another, some receiving guests while others had guests departing. Don’t they know there’s more important things going on than their nothing lives? Their everything lives? Ahead, a line of turret drones formed a perimeter around the central tower, lights blinking red. Beyond, Joceline’s blimp hung, less ostentatious, and smaller, than the previous one. Shaped like an oblong with a landing pad and entrance on the top, its tether drooped towards the tower’s grasp. The ribs along its inside both protected and hidden by a fibreglass exterior painted grey above, and sky blue below.

  Red lights turned to green as they approached, and they passed the perimeter safely. One flight-drone with clearance would not raise suspicion. If they had amassed a fleet, then an aerial war would have been inevitable, with casualties both in the skies and below all too easy to create, as twisted chasses dropped deadweight to the streets. Perhaps smashing into someone’s apartment in a cloud of fire and glass.

  There’ll be flames at the windows before the day is out.

  Elissa pulled to a halt and they remained, hovering somewhere between life going on as normal below, and the madness about to ensue above. Asir could be down there among the thousands still doing their jobs, walking beats already set, breathing air already breathed. Maybe he was looking up at the fly and wondering what it was. Probably he had his eyes to the pavement. Probably he was working, stuck behind the intake desk in the North Central PD and counting down the hours, looking over his shoulder, both for her, and for eyes watching him watching for her. “Just wait a little longer,” she thought.

  Asir

  At least it’s quiet.

  The troubles came with one benefit, at least; everyone with a criminal mind had been drawn to the protests, leaving the inner city safer than it ever had been. Those who did pass by his desk were blue-blooded and young, testing how far they could push things in the void of anyone with more power. More experience. More of a tendency to leave you with a broken bone or two. Investigative work had never been so easy. The officers returned with tales of mothers and fathers bringing their youth to the door by the ear, practically begging for them to be put in a cell. Well, there was plenty of room to oblige.

  “I was told to carry on / while the beatings of stone / brought the chosen to their knees / in the name of peace.” Asir nodded his head to the raw guitar and drumbeat playing in his in-ears; to Drift, his favourite band. He’d listened to the song so often now it had lost all meaning, passing from new and exciting, to vital and vibrant if you really sat down and listened to the lyrics, and then on to a kind of comfortable white noise, in the way that the best music did. Comfortable. Reliable. An old friend. A marker against a period of your life. Asir listened closely now, surprised by the presentiment of the lyrics against the backdrop of current affairs. For a moment the song was new and relevant again, before fading to silence and that familiar intro of the next song. He’d danced with Catherine to The air that bleeds your name once upon, just one of many songs that he now had to skip. He brought his finger to his ear and moved it forward in the air, the in-ear sensing the movement and bringing up the next song. The link attachment for mental control was coiled inside the in-ear. Connection, especially for entertainment media, was strictly forbidden when on duty. He shouldn’t even be listening to music, but there was no-one who cared. His superior officers were as bored as he, beyond even the reproaching of personal media use.

  He sat reclined with his feet up, behind the intake desk rising above him. Should anyone drop by the desk would look unmanned. Perhaps that would dissuade any would-be confessors or low-crim informers. That was the hope. The brick walls were painted a blinding white, with fluorescent lighting to match. The vents whirred a lot quieter than they used to when everyone had more work than time to manage it. Now it seemed that every little complaint was getting fixed. Every screw tightened. Every leak quelled. Even the fucking ticker displays were working again, meaning he had to look at Catherine’s face every seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds as she cycled back around in the city’s most wanted list. He’d taken the photograph that was being used, and he’d offered it up freely.

  They’d just sat down after a date at the theatre to watch Of Time Again and Again at the counter in the adjacent restaurant, and were waiting to be seated. She had a glass of red wine in her hand, and the image on the ticker replayed those five seconds, as she brought it up to those lying lips, took a sip, and then smiled a duplicitous smile that cracked her face. Teeth white between ruby lips. Evil in those eyes where before he had seen playfulness. A secret hate broiling beneath the surface.

  He wondered and wondered if it was something he had done. Some act that he had not spotted that allowed her to veer from her path. Something he had said that had perhaps implanted the seed of betrayal. And then he looked back to this image, and those eyes, and it was plain to see it was there all along.

  He just wished the authority believed him, instead of the monthly lie detection test. Fuck that bastard, Deke. He was just as much at fault as he was – he saw her more than anyone! If a fucking detective couldn’t see what was right under his nose, how could he, with her pussy round his cock? Thank fuck she’d been infertile, like the rest. He hated the thought of bringing more betrayal into the city.

  He shook his head, to clean it. This wasn’t him. She’d infected him with her bad words – the trouble was keeping it internalised.

  He looked at the clock. Only another five minutes.

  The familiar beep of the internal lock sounded, with the lock disengaging, and then Everett Cane sauntered in, led by his belly, fed by the vending machine overlooking the empty chairs of the waiting area. “Afternoon, Asir. Not too busy, I trust.”

  “Not a single intake. I hate the night shift.”

  “Lucky for you. Breen says to keep your comm active in case we need to call you in.”

  “Why in Neon would you need me to do overtime?”

  “Trouble’s brewing on the frontline. Might need to take in some overflow cases.” Everett powered up the three frontdesk monitors, activating their holo-displays. “Stevens has already been called in.”

  “And here was I, about to go home to my bed.”

  “To your cold, empty bed.”

  “Might be I’ll need to fill it to keep me awake.”

  “I reckon you can do whatever you like now that traitor is out of your life.” Everett looked washed and clean, brown hair soft, fresh from the sho
wer and hair dryer. He avoided eye contact though. So many did now, Asir noted. As though treachery could be spotted in a look shifted sideways, a raised eyebrow, or even a wink. Cartwright had regretted his wink, that was for sure, now behind bars.

  His shift wound to a close and he said his goodbyes, locking the in-ear interface into his link connection. He could now think his way through the music, selecting what he wanted to listen to at will. He grabbed his coat from the locker room and then exited through the silent lobby, out into the busy avenue. Despite all the action near the perimeter, people were still working, children were still attending school, and leisure was still a priority for those with nothing but time to eat and drink, receive massages and manicures, go shopping or else just vegetate beneath the awnings of street-side restaurants. Their noise whimpered beyond the veil of his music, gargling chatter and electric hum. An advertisement for Sleeze rose from the holoprojector lining the edge of the path where road and pavement met. An attractive blond woman in laced underwear walked alongside him, high-heels touching down an inch above the paving, dispelling the illusion of company. “I’m waiting, Asir,” she said, and stood coquettishly waving a hand goodbye. He continued onwards, passing by other pedestrians with their own personalised adverts; In-Syn, Neon by Night, Sportswear Direct, and other such shops and services. Not for the first time, he wished he didn’t work on Ad Strait. After installation, it had been agreed that these holoprojectors were more annoying than beneficial, and no more had been installed. They’d neglected to remove these.

  Gotta love the innovation, though!

  His uniform clung to him beneath his jacket. The fever of insomnia tempering his skin, stinging his eyes wide open. Empty cartons wheeled from dragging feet, disused wrappers shifting in the wake of bodies where the autonomous cleaners had not yet passed. Seemed they were becoming more complacent lately, perhaps forgetting their duties if that was possible. Of course, in truth, they were out there spreading their cameras upon the perimeter and beyond, if they could pass by unseen.