glass.
Hiding behind a curtain, in the Domain with Axel, at the theatre with Tyr.
The Roof. The double-A parties.
Horses’ hooves.
Don’t think.
She knew that from tomorrow she could not remember this day. She would relive it as she drank her late night voqua and watched without taking in a reel on the o’vis. If she slept tonight, the scene would haunt her dreams. But after tomorrow, today had to go. Today had never happened.
4 ¦ VIKRAM
V ikram woke to a morning that was almost colourless in its brightness. He stretched, gradually persuading his reluctant limbs to leave blankets that were warm with body heat. The window-wall was wet with condensation and he wiped a patch clear. His hand came back dirty with grease.
In a couple of months, ice would freeze the window-wall shut. Days would come when he barely left the flat. He had let the place go. Mould sprouted in a corner of the ceiling and meandered down the walls. The tiny room pressed on his sanity.
With a jolt, he remembered that today was different. Today he was going east. Into the City.
His heartbeat quickened even as he tried to relax.
Can I really do this? Do I even want to?
You don’t have a choice , he told himself firmly. He’d screwed up the order when it was delivered by hand—reading its solid formal prose had filled him with rage. But later he’d smoothed the letter out, read it again, thought about the implications. He’d wanted a political opportunity and here it was. Clearly it was no coincidence that after twelve months of writing letters, he had been granted an audience with the Council less than a week after the execution—but that did not give him an excuse.
The mayhem surrounding Eirik’s death must have struck a chord with the City as well as the west. Vikram—what was left of Horizon—was finally being taken seriously.
He made himself as presentable as he could, washing with cold water from a bucket and pulling on the best clothes he possessed. He used his knife and a sliver of mirror to shave. Brown eyes glanced back at him, a tiny scar above the right. Wariness was their resting expression. Couldn’t change that if he tried. His coat was a shapeless affair that would not impress anybody, but he was damned if he would sacrifice warmth for appearance. In any case, the coat came with Vikram, or Vikram had come with the coat. Somebody once told him it belonged to his father, and it might have done, but it might have belonged to some anonymous figure who had no connection to him at all.
He wound a scarf around his neck and rooted through his bag for gloves. He found only one. It seemed impossible to have lost the other amongst so few belongings, but time was tight and he had to leave without them. On the way out, he noticed again that the lock was weak.
It was a long trek downstairs. The lower lift had failed last month and so far nobody in the skyscraper had managed to lure out an engineer. The stairwells and corridors were busy. People sat smoking on the stairs and lounged in empty door frames, idly reiterating yesterday’s conversations. He smelled the distinctive aroma of manta. Eyes grazed Vikram as he passed. He kept his watch hidden beneath his sleeve. He could have flogged it for several hundred peng or a few City credits, but he loved the watch and he wouldn’t give it up until he was desperate.
Ten floors down, he banged on an even less secure door. There was no response. He banged again, and this time heard an answering curse and someone staggering across the room. The door opened and Nils peered out. His eyes were bleary. A week-long beard shadowed his jaw.
“Vik. What are you doing here? It’s morning.”
“I’m going to the Eye Tower,” Vikram said. “To speak to the Council. The order came through two days ago, remember?”
Nils looked surprised. “I thought you weren’t going to go… I mean, after…”
Neither of them said Eirik’s name.
“I changed my mind,” said Vikram
Hiding behind a curtain, in the Domain with Axel, at the theatre with Tyr.
The Roof. The double-A parties.
Horses’ hooves.
Don’t think.
She knew that from tomorrow she could not remember this day. She would relive it as she drank her late night voqua and watched without taking in a reel on the o’vis. If she slept tonight, the scene would haunt her dreams. But after tomorrow, today had to go. Today had never happened.
4 ¦ VIKRAM
V ikram woke to a morning that was almost colourless in its brightness. He stretched, gradually persuading his reluctant limbs to leave blankets that were warm with body heat. The window-wall was wet with condensation and he wiped a patch clear. His hand came back dirty with grease.
In a couple of months, ice would freeze the window-wall shut. Days would come when he barely left the flat. He had let the place go. Mould sprouted in a corner of the ceiling and meandered down the walls. The tiny room pressed on his sanity.
With a jolt, he remembered that today was different. Today he was going east. Into the City.
His heartbeat quickened even as he tried to relax.
Can I really do this? Do I even want to?
You don’t have a choice , he told himself firmly. He’d screwed up the order when it was delivered by hand—reading its solid formal prose had filled him with rage. But later he’d smoothed the letter out, read it again, thought about the implications. He’d wanted a political opportunity and here it was. Clearly it was no coincidence that after twelve months of writing letters, he had been granted an audience with the Council less than a week after the execution—but that did not give him an excuse.
The mayhem surrounding Eirik’s death must have struck a chord with the City as well as the west. Vikram—what was left of Horizon—was finally being taken seriously.
He made himself as presentable as he could, washing with cold water from a bucket and pulling on the best clothes he possessed. He used his knife and a sliver of mirror to shave. Brown eyes glanced back at him, a tiny scar above the right. Wariness was their resting expression. Couldn’t change that if he tried. His coat was a shapeless affair that would not impress anybody, but he was damned if he would sacrifice warmth for appearance. In any case, the coat came with Vikram, or Vikram had come with the coat. Somebody once told him it belonged to his father, and it might have done, but it might have belonged to some anonymous figure who had no connection to him at all.
He wound a scarf around his neck and rooted through his bag for gloves. He found only one. It seemed impossible to have lost the other amongst so few belongings, but time was tight and he had to leave without them. On the way out, he noticed again that the lock was weak.
It was a long trek downstairs. The lower lift had failed last month and so far nobody in the skyscraper had managed to lure out an engineer. The stairwells and corridors were busy. People sat smoking on the stairs and lounged in empty door frames, idly reiterating yesterday’s conversations. He smelled the distinctive aroma of manta. Eyes grazed Vikram as he passed. He kept his watch hidden beneath his sleeve. He could have flogged it for several hundred peng or a few City credits, but he loved the watch and he wouldn’t give it up until he was desperate.
Ten floors down, he banged on an even less secure door. There was no response. He banged again, and this time heard an answering curse and someone staggering across the room. The door opened and Nils peered out. His eyes were bleary. A week-long beard shadowed his jaw.
“Vik. What are you doing here? It’s morning.”
“I’m going to the Eye Tower,” Vikram said. “To speak to the Council. The order came through two days ago, remember?”
Nils looked surprised. “I thought you weren’t going to go… I mean, after…”
Neither of them said Eirik’s name.
“I changed my mind,” said Vikram
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