Mirror's Edge: Impostors 3, page 12
Then a girl steps forward, a hand raised. When I nod to her, she speaks in a hesitant voice.
‘So when things change here, they’re going to get rid of the dust?’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘We’ll make Shreve a free city.’
‘Why would we want that?’ the girl asks. ‘Without dust, nothing we do will ever be historic again.’
I stare at her, remembering Zura saying that the Futures didn’t live in the real world. Maybe some of them don’t.
So I humor the girl. ‘It’ll take some getting used to. Freedom can be strange at first.’
‘Freedom has a way of destroying things,’ she says.
The crowd murmurs its agreement.
30. LOVE OF DUST
The old words from Tally Youngblood have ignited something in the Futures.
It’s not just the girl. Lots of them are worried about their lives being lost in the air.
‘You don’t need the dust,’ I say. ‘No one has to be watching your life for it to mean something. In a free city, you can be yourselves.’
‘This is ourselves,’ she says, growing in confidence. ‘Being historic is who we are, and you want to take that away.’
She’s right—we want to change everything here. Their dreams will fall apart once freedom comes.
I have to switch gears.
‘You can still record yourselves, of course.’
‘That isn’t the same,’ a boy speaks up. ‘If you’re just another kid with a cam, the historians know you’re meta-Heisenberging. The dust makes us real.’
That’s not something I can argue with, because it doesn’t make sense to me.
I scan the crowd for Chulhee, hoping he can help. But he’s way in the back, his arms around Ran and Sara. All three of them gaze at me smugly, as if pleased with how things are going.
That’s when I realize—the founders of Future must also love the dust.
Did they invite us here to set us up? If just one person reports us, the mission will fail spectacularly, leaving my father’s regime stronger. The founders of Future get what they want, without going down in history as snitches for a dictator.
I glance at Col again. He makes a fist—stay strong.
It’s not that easy. I don’t know how to win this argument, and my feet are itching to leave this poisoned stage.
Rafi could do this, but I’m not her.
It’s a nightmare I had a hundred times as a littlie—pretending to be my sister, and the crowd seeing through me. Turning on me.
Then Riggs steps forward.
‘So what does that mean, anyway?’ she asks the girl. ‘Being historic?’
‘It means being remembered,’ the girl says carefully, as if reciting from a textbook. ‘So that even a thousand years from now, you’re alive somehow.’
Riggs jumps onto the stage next to me, wearing a grin.
‘Sure, I get it,’ she says to the crowd. ‘Us rebels want to be remembered too. We get killed in battle all the time. And nobody wants to die and be forgotten, right?’
The eyes of the crowd lock onto Riggs. Suddenly, her rebel swagger is showing, and I realize how she’s been hiding her charisma, her bluster. She was a boss, after all, until my sister came along.
And she’s not talking about mere drama, but the reality of war and revolution.
Historic stuff, compared to love triangles.
Riggs gives me a pat on the back.
I leave the stage to her and stand next to Col. He puts a comforting arm around me.
‘When we rebels die,’ she says, ‘our friends remember us. People we fought beside to save the planet, closer than blood or marriage. That’s how rebels pass into history. We don’t need dust—we have crew.’
She gives them a long look, weighing the Futures with her eyes. I can feel them cringing a little under her judgment.
Then she shrugs. ‘But, hey, you’ve got your own way. You’ve taken what this sad excuse for a city gives you and made something of your own. But unless you want to go down in history as fools, you have to remember one thing …’
Riggs leans down and lifts up one of the carbon bricks with a flourish.
‘You might love the dust,’ she says. ‘But the dust doesn’t love you.’
The Futures stare at the black brick, spellbound, utterly confused.
Col steps forward, handing Riggs the scanner. She kneels to wave it across the pile, letting the click of the radiation reading ring out across the room.
‘You must have wondered what these bricks are,’ she says. ‘They’re leftovers from a Rusty nuclear plant. Not too dangerous, because the deadly stuff is out there. You’ve been looking for it all day.’
A bewildered, nervous noise scatters through the crowd.
The girl speaks up first. ‘Why would Sir do that to us?’
‘Because his enemies are coming for him,’ Riggs says. ‘And he’s run out of ways to scare them.’
The crowd’s unrest is growing fearful now.
‘So he sent you to look for nuclear waste, because drones would take a few more days to print.’ Her voice turns cold. ‘A rush job, the dust told you, right?’
They stare at the pile of bricks, unwilling to believe.
But before their doubts can take hold, Col takes the scanner from Riggs and walks out into the crowd.
‘Hold up your hands!’ he cries.
Most of them do.
There’s a spellbound silence as he moves from person to person, waving the scanner across their palms. For long seconds, there’s only the soft scrape of his footsteps through the crowd.
Then a clicking comes from the scanner.
Col takes a step back from the boy who set it off.
‘Let me guess—you got a yellow light out there.’
The boy nods, his eyes wide.
The fearful sound bubbles up again, turning to anger.
The Futures are starting to understand that their city has betrayed them.
Chulhee’s making his way from the back, the smug grin gone from his face. I think he’s going to argue against us. But he takes the scanner from Col and holds it against the bricks, staring at its screen.
I remember them arguing about the couple at the victory celebration—for the Rusty Anti-Fascist War. That was when nukes were first used. Those two cities in Japan, their names made historic.
Chulhee turns to the Futures, ashen-faced.
‘We make our own stories, as always—it’s your choice. But I think we should help them.’
The girl who argued against me doesn’t say a word.
31. KISS
‘Thanks for the save,’ I say to Riggs as the meeting breaks up. ‘Should’ve let you make that speech in the first place.’
She nods. ‘I was a boss, remember? I’ve had tougher audiences than that.’
Of course—rebels vote on every mission, like pirates in pre-Rusty days. And I bet those crowds aren’t afraid to heckle.
The moment someone argued with me, I choked.
Riggs checks to make sure none of the Futures are nearby. They’re clearing out the wind tunnel around us, taking mementos, saying good-bye to their old meeting place for the last time.
‘When Col called you Frey,’ Riggs says softly, ‘I thought you might really be her. But clearly you’ve never been a boss.’
I smile. ‘That’s true.’
‘But you’ve never been a first daughter either,’ Riggs says, her voice going hard. ‘Rafia of Shreve is famous for her interviews. She could’ve handled that crowd. So who are you?’
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.
‘Rafia went away to get camo-surge,’ Riggs says, ‘and you came back. Different face, different voice, and we all just believed you were still her. But maybe Diego decided to send someone else in her place.’
A laugh forces itself out of me. The thought that I’m not myself has crossed my mind so often since the surge, it’s almost a relief to hear someone else say it.
I give her one of Rafi’s eye rolls. ‘They wouldn’t dare replace me.’
‘She asked them to replace her—the real Rafia’s hiding in a luxury hotel somewhere, while you lead us off mission. It’s obvious you don’t care about X!’
The accusation stings, but I keep my voice level. ‘Don’t you think Col would notice if I was a different person?’
‘He’s a city boy. He’s in on the whole thing.’
‘This is brain-missing. I’m Rafi!’
Riggs cocks her head. ‘What did you just call yourself?’
My breath catches—I forgot to say Rafia, the name the world uses for my sister. No one but me leaves off the last letter.
Maybe it’s the long day’s hike, or the radiation leaking into my bones. Or that my father is planning another war crime to add to his list. But I can’t make any more excuses.
I’m tired of hiding myself.
I’ve been tired of hiding myself for a long time.
‘You were right the first time. I’m Frey.’
She takes a step backward, half a dozen thoughts warring on her face. Then she does something unexpected—she reaches for my shirt collar and pulls me closer …
And kisses me.
The pressure of our mouths, my heartbeat in my lips, the salt of the day’s hike—all of it torrents through my head, wild and curious.
A moment later, she pulls away.
‘No,’ she says. ‘You aren’t Boss Frey.’
‘Um, okay, it’s not …’ I try to gather myself. ‘You’re right, I’m not Boss Frey. That’s my sister, Rafi. She stole my name months ago, then went looking for a crew. She found yours.’
My words run down. Too many random things, mostly that kiss, are buzzing in my head.
But I manage, ‘Um, so you and Rafi are …’
Riggs waves her hand—for her, that’s not the revelation that matters here. ‘We were. And we kept it quiet. Old boss—new boss is messy.’
So there’s such a thing as rebel etiquette.
But Rafi never told me. I lived in her lair for weeks, and she never gave me a clue that anyone was important to her.
Sometimes I think my sister is a stranger to me.
‘She was lying from the start,’ Riggs whispers.
‘Since the Battle of Shreve. I was the one held captive in the tower, back when Col and I were supposed to get married. At first, Rafi was pretending to be me to keep my cover, but then she wanted to be a rebel.’
‘She took my crew,’ Riggs says. ‘And even after that, I still …’
I shrug. ‘That’s Rafi for you.’
Col appears beside us, looking a little concerned.
‘Everything okay here?’
Riggs turns to him, angry. ‘You knew.’
‘Of course,’ I cut in. ‘Along with Charles’s and X’s crews. But that’s it.’
‘Ah,’ Col says, understanding now. ‘Sorry we hid the truth from you, Riggs. It was complicated.’
‘To say the least.’ She shakes her head. ‘X too? So much for honor among bosses. Not that I’m a boss anymore—that spoiled brat took my crew.’
‘She’s more than that,’ I say. ‘Maybe her name isn’t the important thing here. She’s still the person you …’
Kissed.
‘If her name didn’t matter, then why did she use a false one?’ Riggs asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. She stalks away from us, out of the tunnel and into the night.
We don’t try to stop her.
‘My fault for calling you Frey,’ Col says. ‘I just—’
‘This is my lie, not yours.’
He shakes his head. ‘You didn’t ask Rafia to steal your identity.’
‘Our father confused things in the first place,’ I say.
And we’re still confused, both of us, caught in this dance of identities. But lately I can’t tell whether my sister wants to be rid of me forever, or to turn herself into me.
She took my name, but then cut me out of her life.
Col looks out of the entrance into the darkness. ‘You think she’s coming back?’
I don’t answer.
When the Futures finish clearing out, Chulhee and Ran come by to say their farewells. Then Sara joins us to say that the other cliques have signed up to create their own diversions tomorrow night.
None of the three apologizes for setting us up to fail here, if that’s even what happened. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
We all make our own stories.
This victory tonight feels hollow, shaky. On that stage, I felt that old gulf between me and my sister. She’s the star, and I’m just in her orbit.
And then that kiss with Riggs …
Who I don’t think is coming back. We’re close to the border—maybe she plans on slipping out of Shreve and heading home to confront my big sister.
We wait in the wind tunnel until the last of the Futures is finally gone. They’ve taken all the solar panels from the hilltop, but leave the fans whirring, using up their batteries one last time.
Once the fans spin down, the dust will creep inside again.
‘Should we spend the night here?’ Col asks me. ‘In case Riggs comes back?’
‘With a bunch of radioactive bricks?’
‘One night won’t hurt. But we can start hiking if you want.’ He smiles, reaching into his backpack. ‘You even have shoes.’
A dark laugh squeezes out of me. I’d almost gotten used to being barefoot. ‘Where’d you find those?’
‘That girl who argued with you, Terra, she wanted you to have them. She’s hiking barefoot to the train station.’
‘That’s … a long way.’
‘The Futures left us water and food too.’
I take Col’s backpack and look inside. More energy bars.
‘Ugh. Is it okay if we start at dawn? I’m pretty tired.’
‘Me too, but we’ll have to get up early.’ Col looks me up and down. ‘Is that all you feel? Tired?’
It takes me a moment to realize what he means.
‘I don’t know. What does radiation sickness feel like?’
Col’s voice goes soft. ‘If you throw up, that’s a problem. If your hair starts falling out, that’s a bigger problem.’
I stare at him. ‘My hair?’
‘We’ll have to surrender. You’ll need treatment right away.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘We’re not sacrificing the whole mission for me. With Riggs gone, the others are shorthanded. We have to make it to the rendezvous point in time!’
Col looks away. ‘Then I guess we should get some sleep. Any more questions? By the time we wake up, the dust will be here.’
I close my eyes, searching my brain. It feels like being at the doctor’s, wondering if I’ve asked enough questions.
There’s only one thing.
‘When Riggs gets home, what are the rebels going to do to my sister?’
Col sighs. ‘Boss Frey’s got her own rep now. Maybe she doesn’t need yours.’
‘So I’ll never get my name back?’
‘You’re still Frey,’ he says gently. ‘I’d be more worried about what Riggs does next. It could get pretty intense between them.’
I remember that kiss. ‘It already is.’
We make a crude camp just inside the tunnel’s entrance. No fire, no air mattress, one plastic blanket wrapped around both of us for warmth. We split the last TogoBar.
Col wraps my injured ankle in a compression bandage. He checks the skin carefully, and I realize that he’s looking for radiation burns.
‘Anything?’ I ask.
‘No. But let’s keep an eye on you.’
I nod and close my eyes, realizing that my toothpaste pills are back at camp …
It feels like only an instant before the dawn light spills into the tunnel, lighting up galaxies of dust. The fans are run down, silent and still.
We have a long way to go before the rescue starts tomorrow night, every step we hiked yesterday and hours more.
Riggs hasn’t returned.
32. DELIVERY
The machines are already at work as we march away from the wind tunnel.
The battering sounds less furious this morning. Now that they’ve located the disposal sites, they must be carefully dismantling the radiation barriers, unleashing slow leaks of ancient poison back into the world.
The thought of it hastens my step—along with the fact that we have to be at the rendezvous spot by midnight. My muscles are already aching, and these new shoes are half a size too small.
As we leave the construction zone, Sir Dust speaks up.
‘Thank you both for helping with safety testing yesterday. I hope it was fun.’
‘Definitely fun, sir,’ Col says.
Maybe not so healthy, though.
The ache in my muscles feels like more than fatigue. It reminds me of my camo-surge in the first days, a wrongness bubbling up from my marrow.
Is it my imagination? Or radiation sickness?
At least my ankle doesn’t hurt, thanks to Col’s compression bandage.
‘One thing, Islyn,’ the city AI adds. ‘We’ll have to charge you ten merits. You didn’t return your safety meter.’
I remember the red light of the meter glowing in the fissure of rock. Retrieving it didn’t seem like a priority.
‘Sorry, sir. I’ll try to be more careful.’
The voice goes mercifully silent.
Merits are new to me. I grew up surrounded by wealth, but I was a nonperson, with no money of my own. My rebel friends don’t use credits of any kind.
And yet the system here has gotten under my skin—the merits in my account somehow matter to me. Maybe losing them is too much like my tutors punishing me when I was a littlie—extra workouts, no dessert.
Maybe some part of me will always worry about my father’s favor.
As the morning drags on, the wind dies. The warm air grows heavy, dizzy-making around us. The water the Futures gave us is running out. After two days, energy bars have gone from joy-missing to inedible.
But we have to keep walking fast. That’s the deal I made when I went off mission.
With every step, I ask myself if it’s worth it.
I may know more about the hidden forces at work here, but I’m not sure I understand the city any better than I did three days ago.
