Kingdom of Cages(188)

Connected, murmured her Conscience. Dionte gathered herself to issue the commands that would ensure Aleph’s understanding, but her Conscience continued to speak.

Why are you doing this, Dionte? Why are you breaking apart from your family? She smelled smoke for danger, and crushed greenery for sorrow. Unbidden, memories flooded her mind—the pain on Tam’s face as he was led away, Basante lying cold and dead in his hospital station, Helice Trust’s warmth seeping away from her body. The spoiled green smell grew stronger and she remembered how the Eden Project had flailed and cried before she administered the drugs that allowed her to carry it quietly away, how Chena Trust had screamed.

No. She shook her head to clear it. None of that matters. I did this to save Pandora. Pandora must be protected. The Called will overrun us all if I do not act.

But now she smelled rot and felt its slick warmth on her hands. How can there be guilt now? She panted. I felt nothing then.

Then Chena Trust had screamed, and screamed, and screamed. The world had smelled of blood, decay, and salt water. Like it did now.

“No!” she cried, struggling to keep her hands in contact with the wall. “Aleph, what are you doing to me?”

“Caring for you.” Aleph manifested herself on the wall as a dark-haired woman, plump with middle age. “You are one of my people. I want to understand you.”

“You are delaying me.” Dionte set down yet more commands, searching for an open subsystem. What happened here? Aleph could not close herself off. Aleph did not have that option. Aleph was hers. “It is right that I go to help bring back Chena Trust. I am needed. You see that. You must see that.”

All at once, she felt the commands take hold and the correct emotions of understanding washed through the city-mind.

“Yes.” Aleph’s image smiled. “Yes. I do understand. I will open passage and permission for you.”

“Thank you, Aleph.” Dionte lifted her hands away from the wall. “We will talk more when I return.” Because there is something wrong inside you as well. I will understand what it is and correct it. I will correct all that is wrong, as soon as I have made Eden safe.

Hands clamped firmly together, Dionte hurried to the stairs and the river portals.

As she did, Aleph, calm and certain, passed the record of the chemical shift to the convocation, who opened it and absorbed it into themselves. Forewarned now, the cities would be able to locate and shut down any codes that left their own organic subsystems so exposed.

That done, they would be free to help their families deal with the next crisis and the family would not be able to make them change their minds.





CHAPTER TWENTY





Eden





It’s not so bad, except for the needles.”

Chena lifted her head, opened her eyes, and saw darkness. She ached again. Pain was becoming all too familiar to her, but this time she couldn’t see either. No matter how hard she blinked, the world remained black.

At least there was a voice, and it didn’t sound like Aleph or any of the hothousers. Chena swallowed against the sand that seemed to fill her throat and croaked, “What’s not so bad?”

“Here. Are they going to keep you?”

Panic surged through her. There were too many “here’s,” and too many of them were bad places. Chena squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sit up. She couldn’t move. Bands of something choked her throat and tied her wrists and ankles.

God’s own.

She opened her eyes again, and still saw only darkness.

“Is there a light?” she asked. The voice was small, a kid’s voice, maybe. It sounded helpful.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” the voice informed her. Yes, definitely a kid.

“I won’t tell.” Chena strained her wrists, even though she knew it wasn’t going to do any good. The straps felt like leather. They were certainly too wide and thin to be rope.

Silence from the kid, then a scrambling sound, followed by a hiss and a pop. Flickering light shone from a lamp clamped to the wall and touched Chena’s eyes, making her wince.

When she could see, the pale light showed her rough red stone walls, stacks of crates, folded metallic trees, and a small boy.

He crouched on top of a stack of plastic crates, watching the space behind her. She couldn’t turn her head far enough to see what was so interesting. Maybe there was a door there. Maybe a camera, or another person who hadn’t spoken yet.

We must be in the caves near Stem, thought Chena. We must still be with the tailors. Hope stirred inside her. The tailors were just villagers. Their resources were limited. She could get away from them. Especially if she had help. She turned her gaze toward the boy again.