Page 107 of Coldwire
“Hey,” I say, flicking the volume of my earpiece up again. “You there?”
No answer.
“Nik?” I demand. I take one tentative step out, toward the road. Police cars are rounding the corner rapidly. “Say something.”
I only hear a faint buzz on his end. His comm link is still active, then. It’s not a signal problem.
“Nik, Iswear, you’d better be alive—”
The police cars screech closer and closer.Ten… nine… eight…If I wait any longer, this route will be blocked off, and even if I get him back on the line, it will be no use.
I grit my teeth and dart across the road. My boots kick up gravel in a spray, the vehicles screeching to a halt when they see me. I can outrun them. I’ll return exactly as I came, cutting through the courtyard and—
A drone dives right into my path.
“Warning,” it says, a red dot growing brighter in the center of its face. “You’re in violation of lockdown protocol.”
I duck, missing the drone’s Taser by a hairsbreadth. Its nodes dart out, then slump to the concrete ground, attaching to give the gravel a shock instead of my body. I stay very still, wondering if it’ll reload if it fired once. I can’t outrun a drone. I also can’t go anywhere as long as it’s focused on me, because it won’t stop chasing me until its objective has been achieved.
My fingers creep slowly to a larger chunk of gravel. Maybe I can beat this stupid thing to death. I’ve got to act fast. The authorities will have put two and two together. A disturbance in their data facility, a break-in alarm, and an unregistered civilian on their cameras. If I don’t go, they’ll circle me in….
A whistle drifts down from one of the balconies overhead. The drone jerks, suddenly turning its camera, the pixel eyes of its emoticon face widening. I stifle an inhale and search for the noise too. My gaze lands on the elderly man, the one I made eye contact with before, right as he begins to sing.
What?
The drone rockets over on the noise, desperate to investigate. I almost want to call a warning, urge that he stop before the drone launches a Taser his way. Someone else must be thinking the same, knowing what is impending, because another voice resounds from a balcony on the opposite side of the high-rises, joining the tune. I don’t recognize the song. It’s not Medaluo’s national anthem—I’d recognize that—but it feels like an anthem nonetheless. The drone zips across the courtyard in investigation, lured by the new voice, and all at once, as though some dam has broken over the balconies, the few calls become a chorus. I hardly noticed how many people there were earlier, too easily blended into the environment when they were sitting idle. Now that they’re singing along, their volume is tremendous, growing their presence into something colossal.
“WARNING!” the drone bellows. It can’t keep up with the different sources at once. “PUBLIC DISTURBANCE IS NOT ALLOWED DURING LOCKDOWN. PLEASE STEP INSIDE.”
They keep going. It’s a strange song. Something about a giant sleeping. Something about the sun rising. It must be a Medan classic if everyone knows the words, and up on his balcony, the old man starts to wave his arms, as though he’s conducting the orchestra before him.
He looks down and winks at me.
I mouth,Thank you. Thank you!
And I take the chance to run.
30LIA
I open my eyes to find Kieren holding a bag of fried dough in front of my face.
“Are you trying to give me pimples?” I ask, yawning.
“I’m trying to feed you, ungrateful youth.”
There’s no energy behind the barb. I shift in my seat, rousing from my nap. My attention is pinned on Kieren when I make room for him, patting the seat beside me. It’s sometime late in the afternoon. In the corner of my display, our active call tab has been minimized for almost half an hour, according to the progression of the timer.
“Is everything okay?”
Kieren blinks hard. It’s not my imagination. Not only does his gaze look slightly misty, but his hands have a tremble to them.
“Yes. Of course. It was ridiculously crowded outside.” He sets the bag on my lap. He’s quick to sit, which could either be a natural gesture after a long, tiring day, or he’s trying to avoid my scrutiny.
Kam immediately accepted the incoming transmission as soon as we returned to the safety of the tour bus and made the call. Now she’s on mute, running diagnostics on the file we found. Twelve is still powered down at the front. With nothing better to do, I nodded off to catch up on rest, and Kieren wandered out in search of food.
He doesn’t seem to have gotten himself anything. Which is strange, because he insisted he was starving and was stepping out to peruse, so I didn’t need to accompany him.
“Thanks,” I say. I roll down the plastic. The dough forms two long sticks, joined at their ends. “You didn’t get anything for yourself?”
