Allie's War Episodes 1-4(4)

I nodded again.
I knew about the collars, of course.
I hadn't actually meant that, when I'd been asking about her being outside...I'd more been wondering why she was on the street without her owner, if maybe they worried they might just run away, saw the collar off. Most of the seers I'd seen had some kind of human chaperone with them; I'd assumed it was for a reason.
Not like I enjoyed seeing the whole seer-human dynamic in the first place. But I supposed I had to get used to it, since seers were getting to be so common in the city.
Seers had been around since the early 1900s, in one way or another...ever since humans first found them living in those snowy caves in Asia. I’d read about them in high school and college. History mainly. Studying the wars, of course, but also the history of Seer Containment, or “SCARB,” the World Court, organic machines, sight ownership, the trade wars in Asia, the Middle East and Europe. And learning about Syrimne, of course, the seer who led the one and only rebellion against humans.
Syrimne had been telekinetic, and scary as hell, from all accounts.
But that was pretty rare, telekinesis. In fact, Syrimne was the only documented case of verified telekinesis in any seer...at least officially. Meaning according to anyone who didn't read the same nutty conspiracy theories espoused by my brother, Jon.
Lately, everyone with money seemed to have one...their own pet seer, that is.
I used to think of that as a New York thing, but it had spread to San Francisco faster than I could have imagined. Sex and fetish shops specializing in seers had popped up all over town. If the laws changed or SCARB was loosening its controls, no one bothered to say so on the feeds.
I did wonder that some of them wouldn’t be smart enough to figure out how to get the collars off. Without their human owners, that is.
I almost understood the driver not being thrilled with the sudden influx of seers all over the city. Heck, maybe Jon’s conspiracy stuff was true, about how the government was in secret collaboration with seers to mind-warp the rest of us. Jon was convinced we all might wake up one day inside a dream created by a bunch of seers to keep us all docile.
Looking at that female seer, though, I had trouble seeing her as colluding with anyone, much less a bunch of guys in suits who wanted to feed us all mental straightjackets.
No, she looked like she’d rather just shoot me in the head.



The cabbie dropped me off on Fell Street. He pulled up in front of the familiar, purple Victorian, and I transferred money to his cab number from my headset as I was sliding off the back seat. Trying to hurry, I slammed the door and promptly tripped over a dented juice bottle. Bending down to pick it up, I tossed it in my mother’s neighbor’s yellow recycling carton, then noticed that the neighbor’s bin was empty, along with my mother’s section of curb.
Great. Another week of week-old garbage.
Digging my keys from my red vinyl jacket, I righted them to insert in the dead bolt lock...but the door was already open. A prickle of nerves ran up my spine. Had she been out today already? Or had the front door really been open all night?
Walking inside, I heard the television.
I shut the door behind me loudly.
“Mom?” I headed for the sound of the t.v., dragging with me the bag of donuts and coffee I’d grabbed from the street vendor in front of the courthouse. Passing the dining room, I saw that she’d closed the drapes, which was strange, too.
My mother liked to watch the birds, even in the fog.
“Mom, you forgot the garbage again,” I said. Pausing, I raised my voice. “Tuesday, Mom. Remember? Every Tuesday. It never changes.”
No answer.
A prickle of fear touched my spine.
“Hey, Mom...I don't have a lot of time. I promised I'd come by, so I'm here...but I can't stay. I just wanted to make sure you were up. Aunt Carol's coming, remember...?”
When she didn't answer again, I felt my nerves worsen. Moving faster down the hall, I stepped out into the living room, stopping when my eyes met a shock of skin sprawled on the paisley print couch.
“...Oh,” I said.
Sighing, half in relief and half in irritation, I crossed the remainder of the room, kicking aside an empty bottle that at least partly accounted for the smell from the faux-Indian carpet. Sitting on the squishy couch I’d loved as a kid, I sank so low I nearly got dumped on the floor.#p#分页标题#e#
I set down the coffee cup I had surfed to safety, and dropped the crumpled bag of donuts to the carpet. Sighing again, I leaned over to tap my mother’s bare back. The skin there was smooth and somehow younger than the rest of her, marked with tan lines from working in her garden.
“Mom? What are you doing?” I looked at the clock in exasperation. "I have to go."