Page 27 of Guiding Desire
Before the radio could fill in for the silence that was once more about to settle, Orrey asked, “How about your family?”
“Nothing like yours at all. My mother and father never joined into a family unit. He’s a B-classer, and she’s an A-classer who runs her own team but also supervises central operations. That’s her sector’s central operations, mind you. They’re both on the West Coast, hence the occasional visit by dirigible.”
“Oh,” Orrey said. “Did you move here then?”
Senlas shrugged. “When I was very little. I spent a week here with my maternal aunt—“
“The one who forced you to give her access to your apartment?”
“Yeah. Well, I liked it, staying with her. I think I threw a tantrum about wanting to not go back.”
Orrey giggled. “When I threw a tantrum, Mom would make me do drawings of my feelings afterward.”
“Cute. Guess your tantrums were the normal kind. Back then, I ripped a hole into a building. My aunt’s vet clinic. I’m sure she would’ve been pissed, only of course I went into shock right after. Power overload.
“Anyway, my mother decided it didn’t really matter where I was so long as my powers developed correctly, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“I see,” Orrey said. He wanted to ask whether Senlas missed not seeing his mother or father regularly, how often he went to see them, but while thinking about whether he could without causing offense, the auto-drive stopped near a busy intersection.
Orrey looked outside. They were a stone’s throw from Meridian Park, still a solid thirty minutes by auto-drive to his mom’s. While the parade yesterday had been the highlight of the celebration—even before the fireworks—many businesses allowed their employees a day off, if not the entire week.
Restaurants were open though, and a café with yellow parasols above the outside tables drew Orrey’s eyes. At first, he wasn’t sure why. Then, he saw someone, a person dressed in long-sleeved clothes and holding a parasol low above their head as they got up from a table.
An open parasol, even under the café‘s wider ones, and those clothes, obscuring both gender and other identifying markers.
When they turned to walk away, Orrey caught the edges of a surgical mask that covered their face, just as if they were getting over a cold. They walked away with decisive, measured steps. Following his training, Orrey scanned the table the person had been sitting at.
There was a bag there, under one of the chairs. Abandoned.
Orrey didn’t think. He pushed the emergency door lock, rushed out of the auto-drive, breaking into a dead run.
“This is Protector Acton, badge C-A2147. Seek shelter! Protector on scene, C-A2147, seek shelter now!”
“The fuck!” he heard Senlas from behind him, the Guardian’s voice carrying above the chaos and confusion that soon broke out.
People froze, then ran. Orrey saw tables around the one he needed to get to being abandoned. A boy in a long skirt fell over a chair and was helped up by a passer-by. The bag was gray, camouflaged almost, barely standing out against the pavement. The passer-by and the boy both ran, putting distance between themselves and that bag.
Orrey felt himself be yanked back just before everything went bright, loud, hot. Then dark.
9
SENLAS
The final goal of those groups summarily referred to as insurrectionists is unclear though they claim they want to abolish the supremacy of the Covenant, of Guardians and Conduits. It is a notion flawed at its core, and the fact insurrectionists will only ever use violence to achieve their so-called goal only underlines the flawed nature of their cause.
(From Balance and Civil Order, a required first-year lecture for all protectors.)
Senlashad,inhisstupidity, pegged Orrey for the rule-abiding, docile type. If it had been a bet, he’d have put money on anythingbuthis new Conduit jumping out of a moving vehicle, whether that vehicle was barely above walking speed or not.
The first thing on Senlas’s mind when Orrey yelled out his former badge number andseek shelterwas that the poor guy had simply lost it, that Senlas’d failed to see the signs in his Conduit, especially since their conversation seemed to be going splendidly.
Then again, Senlas had been trained to spot patterns to guard against attacks. He’d also been trained, like every child in every city, thatseek sheltermeant running into the nearest building and hiding in there, away from windows and anything breakable.
And most people out on the street did that, except for one, the break in the pattern: a person runningalongthe street, away from where Orrey was, right after they’d dropped their parasol, moments after Orrey had yelled his warning. The person wore clothing that was too warm for this weather too, another break in the pattern of normal behavior.
Both chilled Senlas to the bone. Orrey had seen it first—had seen something—and was acting.
It was enough to make the situation feel seriously off, and so SenlasYankedOrrey back, making extra sure to support his spine, just like he’d practiced a thousand times over.
