interi

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, you know, standard heroics. When they least expect it I am going to swing down, smash through a window, save the guy, and dramatically escape into the night!” He smiled, his teeth glowing blue in the light of the kerosene torch.

“Do you know which train they are in?” Maverick peered over the edge, turning up the magnification on his goggles. There were dim lights moving far below them. He could tell that the men in black were moving in pairs, having already mapped out their patrol paths. Trained security forces.

“Nah! I figure I will figure it out when I get to a lower platform. I mean, jumping from here would be silly!” Cart laughed at his own joke. There were half a kilometer above the target. Despite the risk he was going to take, Cart knew better than to jump from this height.

In addition to the sheer force of the fall, there would be other obstacles in the way. Various beams and cables connected the towering cranes to each other and to the wall of the transport yard. If light were ever to illuminate this world under the city, most would fall back from dizziness due to the disturbing proportions of the webbed canopy. Well, most from the upper levels. In the Downs everyone had at least an idea of their world, as dark and unnatural as it was. Cultural muscle memory.

“You figure. Of course you figure,” Maverick shook his shaggy mop of hair and neoprene extensions, careful not to add fuel to the torch. “What is it that you figure will happen down there, boy? What is that kid to you, what do you own ‘im?”

Cart sat back against his duffel bag of climbing gear, stretching his arm out behind him and cupping the back of his head. He closed his eyes for a long moment before answering.

“It ain’t right.”

“That is what I am tellin’ you, boy! This is a fool’s rush. You will just get yerself kill…”

“No, not that. What they did to him. That ain’t right. If it were any of us down there, well, it wouldn’t have even gotten this far, ne? We woulda done all we could to protect us. Downs people, we stick together like that.”

“You damn right we do,” Maverick spit, which he hoped Cart took to mean he was serious. “Downs’ take care of our own. That is why we let suits come in, but they know they gotta leave soon.”

“Right! So I am just gonna make sure they do that, minus the kid. Aside, it ain’t right, fear. That’s what you teach the kids around here, ne? And that kid is feared. The Black Suits gonna leave alright. I am gonna make them.”

Cart stood up, grabbed his gear, and jumped head first from the platform. Mid-fall he tucked his body in, wrapping it around the duffel bag. He was up and running down another platform before the bungee net had even settled. Maverick put out the torch and counted to himself in the dark. When he figured Cart was halfway to his launch point he stepped back four steps and turned to the left. Three paces and he hit a softly glowing blue button hanging in the air. The silent elevator ascended into the darkness.

His hand brushed against the bars of gate that surrounded some important looking building. Brushing his hand against his slacks stopped him in his tracks. Looking down he saw a swath of soot across him pocket, a black smear on the beige material. Breaking into laughter, he doubled back and looked closely at the bars. They were filthy.

Well, this is great. First day and I walk in looking like I was working on a car or something. Breath.

Despite it all, he kept grinning. These kinds of things were not worth worrying about, though it did irritate him to no end. He hadn’t worn these pants for four days, wanting to really make an impression today. No time for laundry had dictated the same pair of shorts for the last week. At least he got to wear something clean, external appearances aside.

Looking at his fingers he realized he still had some soot—or whatever it was—on his hands. Unable to find another object to wipe his hands on, he resolved to make the most out of the smear, and proceeded to soften the edges, forming a longer and uniform rectangle. At least it would look stylish.

Out came his mobile, checking his location. Destination was nearby. No new texts, and nothing of note on the feeds. Time to get to business.

He stopped, eyes closed and a deep breath. One last time to feel nervous before starting his first day. He barely caught himself as the hurrying mass crashed into him, a metal rod beating against his lower back.

His vision focused on three things, alternating, unable to decide which was most important.

There was the score of various tennis shoes and socks forming a wall around him.

Closer to his face, blurring out the argyle lattice, was a smashed piece of orange and blue faux metal, its digital insides spilling out like the intestine of a phone that had just committed ritual suicide. Damn.

Then there was the feature of the moment, which was, fortunately or unfortunately, the last thing he noticed before his brain processed the cost of the junk pile in front of his face, the lack of oxygen that his body was about to react to, and the fact that whatever hit him was still on top of him.

Blue. Cotton. Panties.

His first day was turning out… even.