Then in the distance something big and brown leapt out of the tall grass. All the birds launched themselves into the air in a great black cloud, blotting out the sky. Chena’s heart hammered in her chest, but startled fear rapidly turned to astonishment, and then awe. It was a long moment before she was able to tear her gaze away from the tattered cloud of birds and look for the big thing that had caused the mass exodus. Images of wolves and dinosaurs from the games flashed briefly through her mind, and she felt glad of the fence posts for one split second. But whatever it had been, it was as gone as the birds.
Eventually Chena remembered what she was supposed to be doing and applied her feet to the bike pedals again.
After a while, this new part of the world became even more monotonous than the forest. She couldn’t see past the thick growth of the grass on either side. The long and steep hills were fun to glide down, but they were a pain to pedal up. The sun’s heat was smothering and she was almost out of water. But she kept on going. If her estimates were even close to right, using one of the turnaround points and heading back would make for a longer ride before she got back to people than if she just kept going. She glanced at her comptroller: 11:24. She’d been riding for four hours.
She hadn’t ever expected to see the wrist computer again, let alone have her shift supervisor give it to her. But, as she was showing up for her shift, this time to start emptying “night soil,” which was as disgusting as Sadia had predicted, that week’s guy-with-a-scanner had handed her a paper-wrapped bundle the size of her fist.
“I was told this was yours,” he said as he handed it over.
Chena unfolded the paper and saw her comptroller lying inside. Written neatly on the paper itself were the words, Thank you for the loan, station girl. Come back for your tea.
Chena had stuffed the paper in her pocket, strapped the comptroller back on her wrist, and tried not to think about it. Part of Mom’s month of perfect behavior included having nothing at all to do with Nan Elle, ever again. Regan the cop had not been able to turn up anything against her, or at least nothing that he could prove to get the village court to act against her rather than the guy they’d pinned the murder on in the first place. That was not enough to clear her in Mom’s eyes, though. Somehow Chena didn’t think anything would ever be enough.
Chena was panting by the time her bike crested the highest ridge. At the top, the grass was only knee-high and she could finally see all around her. The river to her left spread out wide, brown, and slow. The forest was a curving shadow behind her. In front of her waited the end of the world—a ragged semicircle of land that dropped off into a lake of blue and silver that stretched out until Chena could not tell water from sky. A tree-crowned promontory thrust out into the water, allowing her to see the rippling red cliffs that lined the shore.
The rails did not lead to the cliffs, however. They wound the long way down to a curving beach and a cluster of sand dunes.
She couldn’t see the actual town from here, but she didn’t expect to. It was probably as well hidden in the dunes as Offshoot was in the trees.
Chena kicked off the rail and let the bike cruise down the slope.
“Hhhheeeeee-yaaaaah!” she cried, giddy with success and gathering speed.
Momentum carried her straight through the dunes. She caught glimpses of windows and saw boardwalks crowded with people. Chena waved, although no one was looking at her.
The rail ended in an open-sided depot exactly like the one she’d left in Offshoot. She parked her bike in line with eight or ten others and ran her hand through the scanner on the wood and wire gate. When she did, the lock on the gate clicked opened and let her out into the dune town and onto its busy boardwalks.
The familiar press of bodies and competing conversations enveloped her and Chena felt herself grinning. This was more like it. More like the station, more like a real place. Except during shift change, Off-shoot mostly felt empty.
Stem, though, was alive. People stood on the walkways and watched the boats out on the water. They stood on jetties, dangling fishing lines off the side or working around the dirigibles, cages of silver wire and glittering aerogel, that sat on the water waiting to take off. They stepped aside for each other, nodding and saluting as they did. Both men and women wore robes and skirts painted with bright patterns you’d never see in the woods. Chena wondered if these people had to work for their village like they did in Offshoot, or if they all got out of it somehow. Then she wondered how she could find out.
Toward the water, she glimpsed some white, tentlike structures. The crowds seemed even thicker there. Chena slid through the knots and currents of people and headed toward the tents, trying to look casual, like she’d done this a thousand times. She stole glances at the town, careful not to stare. It would mark her. Maybe there weren’t real spies here, but she’d bet there were people like Madra, or Regan the cop, or Nan Elle. The kind of people who always wanted to know who you were, what you were doing, and why.