Z 2134 (4 page)

She returned to her table and sat,
sipping her sugar water and dreading her looming interrogation.

On the wall, a ubiquitous City Watch
poster, just like those that lined the city streets, the factories, and shops
asked, “Do you REALLY know your neighbor? Watch. Listen. Report.”

“What happened?” The Watcher asked from
behind his mask.

Ana spoke to the guard, thinking of the
man whose name she didn’t know and the advice she couldn’t ignore:
tell the
truth.

Ana did, though she couldn’t shake the
feeling that everything she said was being monitored for honesty and would
probably be fed to someone in a room somewhere, or maybe recorded and added to
her existing data log, to somehow, in some unknown way, be used against her
someday. She remembered, as a child, taking a tour of The City Watch Tower and
seeing room after room filled with computers and monitors, with Watchers
observing camera feeds from the streets, from the woods, from the sky orbs, and
even from within people’s homes. No doubt there were also rooms devoted to
watching the feeds from The Watchers’ helmets.

“Did Liam say why he thinks your father
is innocent?” The Watcher asked.

Ana was frozen under the question’s
weight, wondering if telling the truth would lead to trouble for Liam. If he
were part of The Underground, which she only suspected but didn’t
know
,
he could be held and tried as a traitor. She had to be careful not to get him
into more trouble than his mouth had already managed to get him into.

“Hell if I know,” she said, allowing her
anger to surface just enough to shift the conversation. “He was drunk. He’s
always been a drunk since he could buy alcohol. He’s always trying to
antagonize me. I’d say he’s trying to get in my pants, but again, you’d have to
ask
him
why he’s such a prick.”

She’d hoped to elicit a laugh from behind
the helmet’s dark glass, but nothing but silence surfaced from behind the
keeper’s visor.

“OK,” he said, finally standing. “Thank
you for your time. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions. You’re
at Chimney Rock, correct?”

“Yes,” Ana said. “Except when I’m working
at the shirt factory, six in the morning to six in the evening, all days but
Sunday.”

“OK then,” The Watcher said, then turned
from the table and walked away, leaving Ana alone with a bottomless sigh.

She hoped nobody would smell her
deception and return to the table. She couldn’t go to jail. If Ana went to
jail, who would care for Adam? She continued sipping her sugar water until the
last of The Watchers finally left.

The Social went back to normal, with
people drinking to forget, to celebrate, and a few, she suspected, just to get
through the day so they could wake up tomorrow, start over, and pretend their
way through the same shit again.

Though she was of drinking age, Ana had
never touched alcohol. But as she sat alone at the table, wondering whether
Michael was OK and worrying she might have gotten Liam into worse trouble, she
started to see its appeal. She looked at Michael’s half-full drink; red, like
her sugar water, but alcoholic. She forgot what he’d called it when he ordered —
a Red Bomb, she thought. She looked around the bar still feeling every eye on
her, although not a single one was. Most of the people were watching the replay
of Darwin Games highlights before the network went back to a live stream.

She reached across the table, grabbed the
glass, then lifted Michael’s drink to her lips, resting it just under her nose
and wincing at the strong blend of fruity and pungent.

How do people drink this stuff?

She looked through the glass, marveling
at the deep crimson, much deeper than her own drink, which was almost pink,
diluted by the slivers of melting ice. Michael’s drink was so dark it looked
like blood. She dared a sip, then nearly spit the sip back into the cup. If Ana
was alone she would have, but if she spit, onlookers would laugh, so she
swallowed the bitter liquid, then set the glass back on the table and pushed it
to the other side.

Wow! That tasted like cat piss!

“You have to swallow faster,” a voice
behind her said.

She turned to see the old black man
again, motioning toward the chair.

“May I?” he asked.

“Sure,” Ana nodded, feigning
indifference, which she figured was better than seeming too eager, or too easy
a mark. That was one of the lessons her father taught her long ago, back before
whatever turned him into a monster had done its dark work.

“You have to watch out for opportunists,”
her father had said. “They’re always around, and always have an angle. Disarm
them by never letting them know you’re interested in their pitch.”

“My name is Duncan,” the old man said.
“I’d shake your hand, but I prefer not to draw any glances to the fact that
we’re just meeting.” He winked, but there was nothing untoward in it.

She folded her arms across her chest,
“Well, you already know my name, it seems. Wanna tell me how?”

“I knew Jonah,” he said.

Ana resisted the urge leave The Social
that second. “So, what, does that mean you’re with The Underground?”

“Well, we don’t go around calling it
that, especially in mixed company,” he said, eyes again flitting around the
bar. “But, yes. And let me tell you, Anastasia, you don’t want any more
attention from City Watch. What did you tell them?”

“The truth, like you said.”

“What did they ask?”

She told him.

Duncan nodded.

“So,” she asked, “did I get Liam in
trouble?”

“Probably no more than he usually gets
himself in. That boy is too reckless.”

“No shit,” Ana said.

Duncan burst out laughing, surprised by
either Ana’s candor or choice of words.

“You’re a lot like him, you know.”

“Like Liam?”

“Well, him too. But no, I meant your
dad.”

She ignored the compliment, assuming it
was one. “So, how did you know him? My dad. Was he with you all?”

“Yes,” Duncan said. “But we met when we
were both on City Watch.”

Ana nodded. “And what, you think he’s
some sorta hero or something?” She tried to keep from rolling her eyes.

“I don’t think he did what you think he
did, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I saw him do it,” Ana said, shifting
uncomfortably in her seat. This was the first time she’d told anyone other than
Michael, Adam, or the law what she’d seen. “Though I do love how everyone
thinks they know better than me.”

“You’ve gotta understand: people looked
up to your father, and most who know him can’t believe he would ever kill your
mother.” Duncan shook his head. “He wasn’t that sort of man. He loved her. He
loved you, and your brother.”

Ana looked down because she couldn’t keep
looking into Duncan’s eyes without wanting to cry. “You think
I
wanna
see him that way?” she said. “He was my
dad
. He was the world to me. But
I was there, and I saw what he did. And I see it every time I close my eyes.
And anyone who says he is innocent is calling me a damned liar.”

Duncan smiled, a hint of sympathy like a
shadow in his eyes, as if he were talking to someone too stupid to understand
what he was saying.

Ana grabbed the Red Bomb and took a long
gulp, swallowing without tasting, then slammed the empty glass on the tabletop
a bit louder than she’d intended. The alcohol was awful, but she hoped the burn
in her throat would numb the pounding in her head.

She stood to leave.

Duncan said, “You’re not a liar, but you
are
lying.”

“What?” she said, her voice rising in
pitch while climbing an octave. Before Duncan could answer, Ana decided she
didn’t care what he had to say. “Just leave me alone.”

Ana rose from the table and headed toward
the exit before Duncan could issue another word. She pushed through the doors
and stepped into the bustling, frigid City street, crowded with walkers and
carts and the omnipresent City Watch orbs; floating, watching, forever
monitoring the streets for any sign of dissent or crime.

Somewhere above the towering buildings on
either side of the wide street, the pale moon was waking from its slumber. Ana
stared enviously at the lit windows along the upper floors of the apartments
across the street, wondering if she’d ever see the inside of something so nice.

Of course, not. Girls of my station can
only dream…or marry into that kind of life.

The City’s upper floors were reserved for
the powerful and the wealthy, never the commoners. And now that she was the
daughter of a convict, no man of wealth, power, or even a decent reputation
would ever be seen with a girl such as her. Hell, she was surprised that
Michael still spoke to her, though she suspected he was nursing a crush and was
too shy to admit it. Like her, too unsure of her feelings to ever do so
herself.

When her father was arrested, her friends
suddenly distanced themselves as if her condition were contagious. All but
Michael had left her side. She couldn’t risk her last remaining friendship by
introducing romance into the equation.

Ana was so caught up in staring above and
thinking about Michael that she never saw the crash coming until they were both
spilling toward the ground in opposite directions. Ana was startled, but even
more surprised when she realized that her collision was with one of the older
men from the bar — the one with the light-red beard who had been standing
beside Liam and had given Michael a helping hand up.

Red Beard offered his hands and helped
Ana to her feet. She accepted, a cool confusion through her body as she felt
him slip something that felt like folded paper —
maybe a message?
— inside
her hand before closing her fist around it.

He whispered, “Wait until you’re out of
sight.”

He then fell a step back, cleared his
throat, tipped his head, and in a louder voice said, “Sorry, Miss, all my
fault. I should really watch where I’m going.”

“Oh…OK,” Ana said, slowly shaking her
head, confused, wondering what he’d slipped into her hand, but also hyper aware
of the orb 20 feet above, humming, watching, and likely recording their every
move and word.

She tucked the folded paper into her
pocket and briskly walked away, eager to find a spot far from the prying eyes
of City Watch so she could read the message.

A
na raced home, though she could never,
and would never, consider Chimney Rock
home
.

Her home — the one she grew up in, an
apartment on a middle floor just uptown — was seized by The City when her
father was found guilty. She’d been staying with her little brother, Adam,
thinking that she’d be allowed to raise him until they were both of age. She
was close enough to 18 that Ana believed she’d be allowed to stay, or at least
be given the chance to find a cheaper place.

The City Court decided otherwise.

She and Adam were shipped to the
orphanage, where they would stay until she was 18, at which point she could
petition for custody, provided she was able to care for him in full. If not,
Adam would stay at the orphanage until he was 18, unless he joined City Watch,
which he could do a minute after his 15th birthday. For a kid like Adam, on the
painfully shy side, with a slight learning disability, a City Watch career was
a long shot, and a painful life of misery a near certainty.

Watchers came into their house the day
after the trial and said it was time to go.

Just like that, The Watchers started
stripping stuff from their house, starting with their paintings — the ones
Ana’s mom made when she was little. Even though they got to keep every memory,
of which there were many, City Watch tore the paintings from their hooks and
carried them into the hallway, handing them to a waiting line of police, who
moved them to the elevator.