Kingdom of Cages (18 page)

“Somebody said that was to minimize environmental impact.” She said it tentatively, testing the idea.

“I’ve heard that too.” Now he shrugged. “It might even be true, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

Silence again. Chena watched somebody on the jetty haul a fish out of the water on the end of a string. “So why do people
let them? Do all this?” It was a question that had been growing inside her all month, and she hadn’t even started finding
any answers to it.

She glanced back at Farin. He was watching her. Did he like what he saw? Maybe he did, or maybe he just saw a kid.

“You’re from the station, right?” he asked. Chena nodded. “I’ve heard about how things are there. Why do people let the superiors
push them around?”

“I don’t know,” said Chena, thinking of her mother and how they had to leave. “Because they can’t stop them, I guess.”

Farin turned up his palm to say there-you-go. “It’s the same down here.” He paused and then said, “The other thing is that
the system here really does work. Enough news comes down the pipe that we all know what’s going on out in the Called. As bad
as it is here, almost everybody agrees it’s worse everywhere else, or at least that’s what they tell themselves.”

Chena was silent. She couldn’t think of anything polite to say.

The corner of Farin’s mouth curled up. “You’re right. It does stink.” He popped the last of the bread into his mouth. “I’ve
also been told it’s a very common situation.” He looked at his empty palms and then wiped them briskly together, dusting the
crumbs off.

“Well, that’s my lunch break. I’ve got to get back or I’ll get docked.”

“You work… there?” asked Chena. “You’re an actor?”

“And a singer, and host. It’s a pretty good living.” He folded the cloth and laid it in the basket. “I enjoyed this, Chena
Trust. I hope we can do it again.” He smiled his warm, golden smile and Chena felt her whole self smile back.

“Sure. Maybe… I’ve got a day off again next week…”

He nodded. “I’ll look out for you. Ask whoever’s on the door to find me.” He stood and paused. “And if you bring a pint of
raspberries with you, I’ll pay for them.” He paused again. “In fact, would you take a message back to Offshoot for me? I’d
pay for that too.”

“Sure!” She stopped short of saying,
Anything.
It might sound… weird. Childish.

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen and a small notebook. He thought for a moment and jotted down a few
words. He folded the paper into thirds and wrote something on the blank side.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “If you could give that to Pari Sakhil, I’d appreciate it.” He dug his hand into his pocket
again and handed her a positives chit.

“Oh, you don’t…” She held up her hands. “I mean, I’ve got to go back anyway.…”

“I’m glad to know you’re willing to do me a favor.” He took her free hand and folded it around the chit. “But if you want
to make yourself some money, Chena Trust, don’t ever do something for free when the customer’s willing to pay.”

Slowly she drew her hand back. “Do you want an answer back?” she asked, ideas flitting through her mind and forming into hopeful
possibilities.

“Very good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “An answer and a pint of raspberries, and I’ll pay for both.”

More ideas. Chena felt her spine tingle with the strength of them. “And if somebody had a message for someone here and I needed
to know who they were… ?”

“Now you’re thinking. I could probably tell you the names and homes of most people in Stem.” He picked up the basket. “I’ll
see you soon, Chena Trust.” He saluted her briefly, flashed one more smile, and turned away to stroll up the boardwalk.

Chena watched his back until he disappeared around the curve of a dune. Her hand began to tighten around the note from sheer
delight, but she stopped herself before she crumpled it. This paper stuff was not as flexible as a sheet screen. She looked
at the chit and read the positive code. He had given her enough to pay for half the bike rental, for just a message.

There were possibilities here. She might be able to make this work. If other people were willing to pay for errands and messages
… if she could make one trip every day, and bring back as much stuff as she could carry…

Except she couldn’t make one trip every day. She had to work, and they might not be going to school yet, but Mom hadn’t stopped
insisting they try to learn something, as she put it. Unless Chena could figure out some way to free up her days, this was
going to stay nothing but a set of really good ideas.

Chena chewed on her lip as she walked back toward the railbike depot. There had to be a way. She’d find it. But even if she
didn’t, she would at least make one more trip to bring Farin his answer and his raspberries.

She would see him again.

By the time Chena got back to Offshoot, twilight and flowers filled the forest, and she was as tired as if she’d spent the
entire day shoveling compost. But she didn’t mind. She held the chit and the note in her pocket like precious secrets. She
knew how she could make her errand-running business work. She could help Mom make enough money to get them back to Athena
Station and then pay an Authority shipper to take them to some other world where no one would snatch them up for body parts.
All she had to do was convince Teal and Mom about a couple of things. When she’d done that, she’d go back to Stem, and she’d
see Farin again. They’d talk, and she would tell him about her ideas for running a whole business of carrying packages and
letters, and he’d tell her how smart she was, and then… and then…

Chena stubbed her toe against an uneven board on the catwalk and stumbled forward a few steps. She swore and hurried up the
stairs, keeping her eyes firmly on where she was going.

It was shift change. Chena tried to get above the worst of the crowd by climbing the stairs to the catwalks, but even the
catwalks were crowded. She found herself being jostled on all sides by people anxious to get to their meals and their baths,
or just to get indoors before the mosquitoes rose for the evening.

Below her, she saw Sadia shouldering her way through the crowds as they spread out. She waved, wondering what Sadia had been
doing, since it was her day off too. Sadia must not have seen her, though, because she did not wave or even break stride.

Chena shrugged.
Oh, well. I can tell her everything tomorrow.
Well, okay, maybe not everything. Maybe she wouldn’t tell Sadia how her heart thumped when Farin smiled. She didn’t want
Sadia to think she was a stupid little girl with a crush.

The house Mom had rented was on the second level of Offshoot. It was a small place, lashed in the shadows near a cluster of
other buildings around a central cistern that caught the water falling from the upper levels and spilled it down to the canals
that ran toward the hydro-processing buildings.

The house had been built so that strip windows alternated with thick wooden panels, letting in what little sunlight crept
under the thick branches and between their neighbors’ houses. Even for an Offshoot house, it was perpetually dim, which was
one of the reasons Mom had gotten it so cheap. But now Chena could see light in the windows and her heart rose. She couldn’t
wait to tell Mom.…

She stopped in her tracks.
Careful, Chena. Tell Mom too much and you’ll get so grounded…

She shook her head. It was okay. She’d be able to tell her enough. Who would she say she got the letter from, though? Talking
to strangers was not a sport Mom considered appropriate for her and Teal. If he was a friend of someone, okay, but she sure
couldn’t say he was a friend of Nan Elle’s.

Maybe she didn’t have to tell about the letter at all. Maybe she could just tell about the idea of the letter.

Yeah, that’ll do it.
Secure with that extra thought, Chena pushed open the door.

“Well, there she is,” announced Mom. “You were wrong Teal, we won’t have to call out the cops after all.”

The front room had been completely transformed while she’d been gone. Patchworks of cloth made a colorful rug for the center
of the warped floor. A low table, canted either from the tilt in the floor or because its legs were uneven, stood on the rug.
Four fat red pillows lay scattered around it. The blank, worn wood of the walls had been polished. Curtains as patchworked
as the rug hung in the windows. Vines and flowers stood in baskets and pots in the corners.

“How?” began Chena.

“Ah, you forget, Supernova.” Mom smiled. She sat in the middle of the floor with a weird, blocky contraption in front of her
and a length of purple material hanging out one edge of it. “I used to be a colony woman, and not a rich one either. I know
a thing or three about making do, when I can get the stuff.” She gazed in satisfaction at the room. “It’s not high design,
but it will do, and we can fix it up as we go.”

“Look at this, Chena!” exclaimed Teal, jumping to her feet and pulling her sister toward the low table. “We get to eat on
the floor!”

“Well, not quite, but close.” Mom also stood and enfolded Chena in an embrace that went on long enough that Chena knew she
had really been a little worried. “How was the great adventure?”

“Great,” answered Chena. “Where’d you get all the…” She gestured at the rug and curtains.

“Amerand Dho, the mother of one of Teal’s friends, told me there was a rag room in the recycler complex. Free for the taking.
Same place we got your hat.” Mom pulled the object in question off and hung it on a wooden hook on the back of the door that
also had not been there when Chena left. “I borrowed the sewing machine from her as well.”

“I helped,” announced Teal. “I cut stuff out and held it together so Mom could pin it all up. I screwed the table back together—”

“Nailed,” corrected Mom.

So that’s why its crooked,
thought Chena, but she didn’t say anything.

Mom walked over to the stove, where something smelled really great. “Are you hungry?”

Chena’s mouth was watering worse than it had when she met Farin. She didn’t even need to answer. Mom just started scooping
soup into a bowl.

They gathered around the new table, eating and talking. The soup wasn’t as good as the stuff in the dorm, but it felt great
inside her. Mom and Teal told her about the scavenger hunt through the recycling complex, looking for stuff that wasn’t too
old or worn out or dirty. They had pallets in the bedroom now. Apparently Teal had spent the better part of the afternoon
up on the roof whacking the dust out of them. This was not, according to her report, anywhere near as stellar as getting to
build a table.

Chena told them about the grasslands with the birds, and about the lake that sparkled and filled the horizon, and the cave-riddled
cliffs. She described the market, and the jetties with the people coming and going. She left out breaking the bowls, and replaced
the story of how she finally got lunch with a few vague remarks about a tent and sandwiches. She also left out her money idea.
She needed to convince Teal to go along with the scheme first. If she was going to make this work, Teal would have to take
her shifts.

The night thickened, the room dimmed, and Chena found herself yawning until she thought her face would split wide open. Mom
lit an extra lamp, but the brightness didn’t wake Chena up any. Her head started to droop toward her empty bowl. Mom laughed.

“Okay, big day’s over and work starts again tomorrow. Help me wash up, and you two are going to bed.”

Chena brought in buckets of water from the cistern and Mom added hot water from the kettle on the stove. The kettle was new
too. They washed the red-brown bowls and tarnished spoons and put them on the new shelf to dry. Mom had obviously put that
one together. It didn’t tilt at all.

Another bucket of water was hauled in and faces were washed and teeth were brushed and Chena was finally able to collapse
onto her new pallet. It was thin and lumpy and smelled earthy, but, like the soup, it felt great. She placed the note and
the chit underneath the pillow for safekeeping and snuggled down under the woolen blankets.

I’ll talk to Teal in the morning,
she thought, pulling the blanket up to her ears.
Sleep now.

“Chena,” whispered Teal excitedly. A hand shook her by the shoulder. “Chena!”

“Get off.” Chena shoved her hand away. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“But I caught a spy.”

Chena pulled the blanket the rest of the way over her head. “Tell me tomorrow.”

“No.” Teal yanked the blanket down. “Now. He was talking to Mom.”

“Huh?” Chena opened both eyes and looked at her sister. Teal was just a blur in the darkness, but her whisper was urgent.

And I’m definitely not getting any sleep till I hear this.

“What’d he want?”

“Shh,” breathed Teal. Chena just rolled her eyes.

Teal shoved the sleeve of her nightshirt up, exposing her comptroller. “I got him coded in,” she whispered proudly. She touched
the display stud and a soft silver glow lit up her face, turning it into a mass of blobs and shadows. “ ‘Spy showed up at
twelve-thirty hours—’ ”

“Showed up?” The words trickled into Chena’s mind. “He came here?”

Teal nodded rapidly, making wisps of hair flutter around her face. “We were just carrying the table parts up from the recycler.”

“Keep going.” Exhaustion pulled back from Chena, leaving room for wariness.

“ ‘Spy was a man,’ ” Teal read. “ ‘Taller than Mom, with short black hair and skin about my color and gray eyes, wearing a
black shirt and white canvas pants and boots.’ ”

“What did he…” Chena stopped and rephrased it, to keep within the feel of the game. “What did he say he wanted?”

Teal checked her notes. “ ‘Spy gave his name as Experimenter Basante from the Alpha Complex.’ ”

Alpha Complex. The hothouse.
Chena bit back her questions.

“ ‘Spy said he’d be pleased to talk to Helice Trust in private.’ ” Teal paused. “I’m not making this up, he really talked
like that.”