“Once again, the Sun rises. Good knight, Last Kunlun, and a good day is almost upon us. Bask in it, savor that moment because I’m going to be very annoying for a bit. Yesterday was awful, everyone went on with their lives but I had nothing more to say. I usually don’t care that much, some days I have the energy, some days I don’t and that’s fine! I expect you all to be used to it by now. But yesterday, after the … underwhelming interview with the Doctor, I felt like I had to come up with something substantial on the spot and that was horrible. I’m not a comedian, that’s not my thing! I don’t crack jokes or tell witty prose. I don’t sing, I don’t clack my feet on the ground for your enjoyment. What matters is that I’m here, I’m here every single day no matter how I feel, no matter the weather, the food I had or didn’t have recently, I’m here. I know none of you, not a single one of you could do what I do because if you did, you’d be HERE instead of ME. That goes for YOU, Damel of Yama. Yeah I fucking know who you are, some of you forget I’m an actual person living in that city. I don’t shut off once that line is cut, I eat, drink, piss and shit same as you, ungrateful bitch fucker. So when you say “Oh I could’ve made that Doctor spill all his secrets easy!” do you know who you’re talking about? Yeah I know you’re listening, you have no idea, not even an inkling of a concept about who I am and what that Doctor does. Why bother opening your mouth? I’d have slapped that stupid grin off your face if I wasn’t merciful like that. You don’t think I felt cheated by not knowing more? I was right there with you, I had first seat to hearing that reach my ears and you think I don’t care? You think nothing anyone says affect me? I’m here every single day because I let everything affect me! Crawl in a ditch and die if you can’t care about anything beyond your dry cynicism! Now that’s out of the way, I’ll still apologize for trying to… I don’t know, salvage yesterday’s call? It was unsightly and I should’ve been better rolling the tape early and go home. But you know I’ll be here tomorrow as well, some people will throw shade on me for speaking my mind but if I let that bother me I would’ve never turned on the tapes in the first place. I’ve been doing this for a while now… I shared that yesterday right? I’m young, younger than most listening to me right now. When I said crawl in a ditch and… Just to be clear I think it’s fine either way. At this point you have to be here for your own reasons, for others or yourself, whatever works. Those Doctors… as unknowable as they make themselves appear, hidden somewhere beyond the trees, they also have their own reason to wake up every day. I couldn’t properly convey it last time, my head was elsewhere but if you could see his eyes directly. You’d know they’re not spitting on our heads from afar. Why bother with this amount of secrecy, when I have to be the one to tell most of you to get your legs out of bed well… Your guess is still as good as mine. Let it be clear, I haven’t hidden anything from any of you! You know what I know, I know what you know. Back to square one, tough luck, life goes on.”
The Knight stared at the camera’s lens for a while, the tape was still running but they made the silence work. One minute of dead air wouldn’t make the Sun go back down. It was a trademark they expected most people to not mind too much, they weren’t an all hour chatterbox either.
“I can handle critics, I’ve heard my share you can keep saying whatever you like, I’m not the Cors, but don’t delude yourself into thinking you’d do better than me in my place. If you think that, if you rise to the challenge, go, take my place. And not just one day to flap your gums for the fun of it. Be there every day. Every morning be ready to be the first to watch the Sun rise, and maybe… be the first to see it hasn’t. I know every single one of you think you have better things to be doing, and you’re probably right. One day I will be the harbinger of doom! Who else wants that? Anyone? Any takers? That’s what I thought. So cut me some slack when shit goes sideways every now and then. I’ll do my best you all do your best, that’s how we live in this city, right?”
The Knight scratched the top half of their visor, the one that they brought down when speaking in front of the camera to retain complete anonymity. The action was a reflex to add character, making a metallic scratching sound they found comedic. Surely, at least one other person found it funny.
“Anyways. The Scavengers are still in town for now but I expect most of everyone who had business with them has done so already. I heard there was some… primordial meat being passed around. Weird stuff, really. I wouldn’t be caught dead eating that thing, some of those cuts had to be what, three centuries old? I know some history facts, livestock farming was outlawed way before the Exodus happened. As far as the reason goes, it’s a complete tossup between methane poisoning and ethical concerns, real mystery but I don’t blame anyone for not giving a shit anymore. So yeah, knock yourself out if you want, that’s definitely one way to leave this world. Other than that, quiet waters, quiet people. And that’s going to be all from me. Be nice to me and be nice to others, or else I’ll get a sore throat yelling that much every day. Knightcall over.”
The camera powered down on its own, the red light flickering out. The Knight had wired it so that it responded to their last line, without them having to manually press anything. In theory, it should give an impression that the Knight had some higher control over their technology. They hadn’t ever heard anyone mention it but trusted that the effect had impressed at least one person. On most days it felt embarrassing to do, like living out a self made lie. But it would be even worse to suddenly stop. The Knight sat, ruminating for a bit before the fresh air motivated them to pack up. The Sun was confidently graying out the landscape, eating away at the night’s colorful lights. From their balcony, far away in the Fringes, they could see the Hull standing as a protective mantle over its closest district. Under its shade, they would retain some colors for a bit still.
The Knight slid the camera back inside, where the tapes were hard at work, whirring the recording of today’s call. It was another thing the Knight would be more embarrassed stopping now than they would be continuing. Every call was recorded, most of the machinery in the top level of the old relay tower was just a large storage for their visual tapes, so that they never brought them outside. They never revisited them nor did they share them individually and doubted they would ever want to. But they were there. They slid the top half of the visor back up so they could better see where they were stepping. The Knight had cleaned thoroughly in anticipation of the Doctor’s arrival but didn’t intend on making it a daily occurrence. Wires had already sprawled out to almost every inch of the floor, turning the space into a treacherous tripping trap. The Knight was fine as long as they could see, avoiding tripping took less effort than the prospect of everyday upkeep.
Once the camera was stowed away and a cap put on its lens, the Knight didn’t lay around and swung for the exit. They barreled down the stairs, another gimmick they had thought out and felt they had to keep doing for no particular reason was to pretend the elevator didn’t work when guests would come by the tower. The climb up the stairs would reveal a lot about someones character and when it was time to leave, most of them would be relieved and even slightly amused when learning they didn’t have to take the stairs back down. Faris had welcomed the surprise in stride, at least. The Knight might’ve put their boot up his ass if he even attempted a complaint. But even if the elevator worked, the Knight wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. Nothing they said on air was a lie, but the fact that were diligent in their attendance didn’t mean they had to like doing it. On most days they would have taken a nap on any of the floor who felt the least dusty at the time but they still felt aggravated by the recent events. For today, the less time they spent as the Knight, the better.
They gently stowed the helmet in a foam box. It should still be sturdy enough to not break apart on its own but they didn’t take any chances, the helmet was the most important part of the fabricated identity and they already had to fix up the visor twice. The voice amp they installed inside was likely more fragile, they felt torn between taking it out every day or leaving it as is. Leaving it there and pretending it won’t ever break won in the end. The Knight without the helmet made a good effort to look nothing like their persona, or was it the other way around? They had short and messy white bleached hair that they slicked back with gel, a black and red jacket in the tint of Scarmetal and an assortment of black rings on their hands. The rest of their outfit mixed reds, whites and blacks in an harmonious balance that would be impossible to notice in the light of the Sun. They used to wash away the black paint that they used around on their eyes but beyond growing tired of doing so every day, they found it added, something, to their appearance that they didn’t hate. Only those who they personally invited to the tower even noticed they used makeup for their eyes anyway.
The thought came and went, would someone ever recognize them? They took a careful approach. Once the helmet was off, they took a back exit of the tower, from the first floor where they kept their regular clothes, onto outside stairs into a courtyard. The Fringes was host to a lot of people, avoiding overnight barbecues from their numerous neighbors was a weekly occurrence. They had even joined the festivities a few times, faking a visit in the neighborhood. They were thankful nosiness wasn’t a prolific quality to have around here or else their tower might have become the best hangout spot this side of the city. Today, the courtyard was silent. A faint smell of leftover char was the only thing greeting them. They hopped down to the ground floor and trotted into the building neighboring their tower, traversing its entrance hall from back to front to end up on the street. To any passerby, they were just living in that innocuous yellow building, or even just regularly visiting. They dug their hands into their jacket’s pockets and traversed the street, sitting on the bus station’s bench in a graceful motion. Flawless execution, noone would suspect a thing, if there was anyone who could suspect anything that was outside at least. Boring neighborhood. Doctor Faris had shared as much before he left, “I expected more life in the streets when I arrived.” Life preferred to amass closer to the center, if you lived in the far edges of the Fringes or Helix, you wanted some silence when you went to sleep. The aerobus’s blue line was closing in on them, just in time. They exhaled and got inside the vehicle, taking their place at the far side next to a window. People were already sat, waiting for the bus to finish its course and going back around instead of taking a walk. Not everyone was so lucky as to only get on and off at termini. As usual, the frame announced the vehicle had reached its destination, Juren, and would turn around in twenty minutes. The trick was so simple, even if the interview had turned out to be a bust they were still proud of having pulled it off. Noone in this bus even doubted anything. That’s what happens when all the real geniuses get drafted to become doctors, all that’s left is people who don’t figure out the mysteries of the world. They don’t, because they can’t or they won’t, it doesn’t matter because in this warm bus, they were the only one except for the Cors who knew where the doctors are. As they got comfortable in their seat, their satisfaction diluted a bit. They still wanted someone else to aknowledge that prowess, because clearly the city had decided to be an ass about it. They chased the thoughts away by closing their eyes and digging their chin in their jacket.
They felt a cold touch on their arm.
“Bwuh?”
The conductor frame was leaning in on them. They had instinctively sprawled out over two seats, the warm atmosphere was enough to take them out without even noticing.
“We have reached the Grande Gate, do you want to get off there? This vehicle will turn around in the direction of Juren in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
And they went. The ride wasn’t as comfortable as a nap in their tower would have been but it was too late for regrets. The Grande Gate stood imposing, spewing out its contents in the form of Hull residents eager to catch rays of sunlight. It was hard to understand why if you never stepped foot inside, the lower strata of the Hull would never be illuminated by the Sun. While many would see it as a blessing, some of the locals argued you need a bit of everything. The Hull was not their destination however, it was time to go home.
Yama took example for its density from the inside of the Hull, packed buildings bright yellow and red layered in a jungle of metal overpass. No single straight street could pass through the entire district. “What’s the matter, Byzance baby, can’t look up from your map?” was a common spike thrown at the residents of the much more organized district, as if a rivalry between them had ever been a real thing. Last Kunlun didn’t have mandated curfews but Yama after sunrise was as quiet as it could ever get. Its people choosing to wait for the Knightcall to go to sleep, instead of using it to wake up. Food and games and sports and song, not one of each but all of them at the same time. People from every district would come to Yama for feeling a lot, all at once, even if it often meant waking up face first and pants down in the street. Punches could get thrown, it happened more than it didn’t, but they were always fearfully broken out. The last thing anyone ever wanted was the Major to show up to ruin everyone’s time. Unlike the Hull, the numbers indicating Yama’s building made structural sense, even if it was still a challenge to navigate.
Their destination had been reached, in the heart of the district, complex Jie 10. The wide building itself was smaller from the inside than it looked on the outside. Through a large entrance, cluddered by food stalls, narrow stairs hugged the wall, providing a view of both the large courtyard and the outside street. As the district was heading to rest, the courtyard and floors bustled with activity that would soon dissipate. A specific hour, that would be different for every part of the city, offered the biggest density of chatter and gossip. A fleeting moment, that they doubted anyone else except them made full use of. They rose up the steps, choosing once again to ignore the massive elevator sitting across the courtyard.
First floor. Every one of them served as a crossroad for the multiple residents to interact. Coiling around the courtyard and surrounding the apartments were sidewalks, leaving few impass. The flux of people slowed, there were enough people in the sidewalks and rising up and down the stairs at the same time that they needed to be confident in butting shoulders so they weren’t knocked aside. Each flight of stairs only took them so far, they would need to maneuver the sidewalks to find one that would take them a floor higher, and repeat at every level. Not efficient in the slightest but who would anyone complain to? They paid attention to everything they could hear on the way, as most would hang out with their floor neighbors as some kind of last ritual of their day.
“You know the Myrrh from Jie 9? He was puking everywhere on the street last I saw him, I never took him for a drunk…”
“Maybe he had some bad food? You heard the Knight, the Scavs brought some old meat or whatever.”
“I’d rather be a drunk than willingly eat that!”
Second floor. They had to bite their cheeks from the inside to prevent them from smiling stupidly. It felt good, especially now, that people were still paying attention. Maybe they’d wanted to get a bigger reaction, but focusing their rage on a random guy they overheard at the rice mall seemed to do the trick as to not antagonize the Knight too much. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, and that the two people they crossed paths with just didn’t care much. They kept listening.
“I need to get laid so fucking bad.”
“I don’t care, shut up, shut up forever, I don’t care.”
Third floor. Clearly this one didn’t care too much either. The Stillborn had stifled a bit interpersonal relationships, as far as data was concerned. That’s something they learned from City Hall though, at the time of the incident they didn’t live in the city. They couldn’t help but feel a little detached from the issue of love, it was part of some topics they avoided bringing up. They never intended to be a personal help line, they didn’t see anything good coming out if they started to dig too deep into the yearnings of the city. That choice had turned the Knight into a kind of sexless and formless entity in the eye of most people, which they were fine with as long as those same people didn’t try to claim they could be a better Knight than them.
“Torrents from two days ago gave me back pain like crazy, should I go see Doctor Closer?”
“He’s gonna debone you dude.”
“What?”
Fourth floor. What? That one was puzzling, you rarely heard chatter about the doctor, he was a very quiet addition to the list of “important” people in the city. Maybe that was why, too little people had even met him so he became an urban legend without them even noticing. Focusing on the thought, they slithered around the sidewalk to face the side exposed to the street. They felt a bit rattled by the rumor, they had only visited the Doctor once but he had left a good impression. Maybe not intentional perhaps, but it had stuck. Doctor Faris had declined personally to talk about him, at that moment they barely paid attention to it, crushed by the disappointment that his willingness to make the trip didn’t come with the news they had bragged about being able to offer. Now the conversation bounced around in their head. What did his face look like when he said this? The relief that transported them on the first floor had left way for frustration. They were back down to relieving that disappointing sunrise.
“Well here comes the most important person in the city. 22 finally arises.”
22 halted their automated stride and squinted, they didn’t expect her to be waiting for them on their doorstep. A ninety year old woman, dressed elegantly in an extravagant outfit in lavender blue, clashing with her red hair, stood against the railing overlooking the street.
“Or are you the sixth? How many Cors are there these days?”
“Let it be known, Lady Magnolia, the Cors play in a sandpit while I slave away, lifting up this poor city on my back. I ought to be considered the most important still, shall I not?”
“Oh please, call me Nola, Magi was my father’s name.”
The ridiculous reply and refusal to entertain an attempted comedy routine made 22 snort loudly, taking them out of their improvisation and chasing away most of the clouds in their mind.
“What are you standing here for?” 22 asked, slumping beside her against the railing, looking down at the district that had fallen to eerie silence.
“Just wanted to smell the air, I’ve been feeling like something has shifted.”
“Nice way to rub it in.”
Nola looked at them seriously, and poked their exposed forehead with a finger.
“Not everything is about you, you’ll get over your botched interview.”
“What so just a feeling?” 22 said, embarrassed.
“Just a feeling. It’s hard to notice change after you’ve lived as long as me, people blow up districts, they come, they go. You spend your whole life hearing about finality but it doesn’t come. We run around in this warm cage. After a while there is noone to guarantee anything, you move on because what else are you supposed to do. Then another disaster comes and you think, is this it? Is this the end? But it’s not as drastic, it never is. People live long lives so you move on again. Again, and again.”
“That’s… heavy.”
“IT IS!” Nola yelled from the top of her lungs, startling 22, “It’s the mood for today, tomorrow night we’re eating in that nice place in front of the plaza, that’ll do us some good.”
Nola reached for their head, a movement which 22 recognized and instinctively ducked away from.
“Don’t even, I have so much gel in my hair.”
“I know,” Nola pouted, clenching her fist in frustration, “You look so good too.”
“You praise yourself too much, I can only take credit for the eye shadow.”
“It’s great too, makes you look like a panda.”
“A what?”
“Nothing, have you gone to see them yet?”
That was likely the reason why Nola ambushed them outside the apartment. 22 bit their cheeks from the inside. They couldn’t even fake thinking they had already left, the only con of knowing too much.
“You do what you want,” Nola sung, “Just saying, I’ve gone myself, 3 asked about you and I said you’ll definitely swing by.”
“You didn’t have to say that.”
“I didn’t.”
Nola was smiling, which would have frustrated them if they didn’t feel more guilty that she had to answer for their absence. There was no reason for this situation to have happened in the first place, no reason not to go. 22 always came with the first wave, waiting to see the aerotrain arrive but they had wanted to wait this time. They bragged in the emptiness and now shame had done the rest of it, they’d spent most of their time since the interview sleeping, and still finding enough left to sleep through the ride back to Yama. The Scavengers would leave soon enough, 22 knew they’d regret not visiting, even if they would return later. The pressure of the Sun felt heavier. Thoughts of bad possibilities and words left unsaid overwhelmed them. They were glad now that Nola had waited for them outside, if they had jumped straight into bed they could have shut off those feelings until there would be no time left.
“I’m going,” 22 sighed, slamming their hands on the railing, resolute.
“You do what you want.”
“I do what I want,” 22 echoed, walking backwards from where they came, flaunting both of their index and middle fingers raised in V signs.
Nola’s smiled and waved, her eyes following their departure before heading back into the apartment. 22 took the big elevator back down this time, the confluence in the building had already faded, everyones schedule as tight as theirs. Yama of the Wood. The inside of the elevator was plated in a pattern that emulated tree bark. What remained of real wood in the district hadn’t survived the artificial temperatures inflicted by Volantis, either crumbling from humidity or flaking away from dryness. The fragile wooden ornamental planks and columns of the district had always been for show and was easily replaced by patterned plating. There had been deliberations at City Hall over preserving the identity of the district, Scavengers could be commissioned to bring back some stronger, preserved, wood from far away but the idea hadn’t stuck. Prevented by a mix of laziness and reluctance to commit to a sad attempt at preserving fragments of a past that nobody remembered. This whole ordeal happened decades before 22 was even born but it was part of the district’s small history that they’d learned from just living in it.
Freeway of the Steel surrounded Yama from the nord and the west, acting as its miniature Fringes. Unlike the wood, steel had stood the test of time. Deep minerals had the benefit of being familiar to Jiù ēn, preserving them had been as easy as making sand fall. The entire district always stayed cool thanks to this wide spread use of metal and glass, their shared use of plated wood was the only thing tying it to Yama. As 22 roamed the streets, set on their destination, they could see Freeway at its peak, light on sounds and flat as a board. Unlike the Fringes, where people simply chose a less noisy atmosphere but still engaged in social activities, Freeway appealed to people who wanted neither. At night, there was a warm tranquility to be found in these streets, one 22 had a special attachment to. When the Sun was up however, the district could very well have been a time locked capsule with nothing left to say. Yet the district wasn’t abandoned like the Caldera, 22 figured it still had something for them.
Freeway’s one and only landmark was its train station from which the district took its name. Massive and imposing, a complex quartz structure sitting at the backside of a silent plaza. Tall but wider, glass and steel woven in complex patterns around a blinding quartz facade made the front of the station seem out of place amidst the more stern and practical buildings in the district. The station had been built to impress, to cast a large shadow over the open plaza. As the sole gateway to other parts of the world in Last Kunlun, it used to be one of the most important places in the city, before the Exodus. They could see some people around the plaza’s fountain. A complex sculpture sat atop its large basin, depicting an abstract tree. At least 22 figured it was one, it had a trunk and branches but both were shaped like flowing water. Water did flow from its tangle of branches, kept in an infinite loop by the currents of Volantis. One could try drinking from it, that would be a sure way to be sick for a few days though, the taste was surely not worth the consequences.
The people gathered around were not doing anything in particular, most laid back on chairs or down on the edges of the fountain, talking to each other. 22 felt the itch to come closer and listen but they wouldn’t be very discreet in open daylight. This was part of why 22 considered Freeway to be a blind spot, it was hard to learn anything from such isolated communities without being obvious about their intent. If they approached gathering information with the kind of brazen confidence needed for quick results, everyone would figure out their identity in a week. No, 22 needed to hear from them without knowing they’re being listened, it was this purity that worked. There was a veil that all of their guests put on when being directly interviewed, 22 figured that easily enough, so they decided to fight on two fronts. No one will be able to hide anything from them, and they’ll still entertain the locals with a formal interview so that they’ll share what they want. No harm in letting them appear as how they want others to see them. After all, even the Doctors did it.
There were many entrances to choose from if you wanted to enter Freeway station but for today, 22 felt like taking the main one, the biggest ark that led straight ahead to the tracks. The Sun’s rising shadows cast the gate in pitch darkness, they caught their own reflection in the glass surrounding the main ark. Looking good and feeling confident, they strode along. Once they had entered, their steps echoed loudly across the empty halls. Inner windows, devoid of light, had once housed all the personnel working on every part of the station. Now these hollowed offices, storefronts and booths collected dust. Freeway station was an anomaly in that sense, across decades some people had to have been interested in making use of this amount of empty space. But the station had never truly been abandoned, as long as the Scavengers remained, so would the sanctity of this place. By whose order, 22 had a guess. They reached the innermost arches, already catching a glimpse of the aerotrain sitting alone on the leftmost tracks. Their focused attention prevented them from seeing they were running into someone, colliding with them and immediately halting their momentum.
“Oh, sorry!” 22 apologized, attempting to appear more attentive.
“It’s alright, I wasn’t looking.”
“Me neither, I’ll admit,” 22 chuckled, the laugh dying in their throat as they got a good look at who they collided with.
“You’re lucky I didn’t break your ankle with my cane,” The Capitán chuckled in turn, readjusting their glasses, “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”
22 looked frantically around the station’s massive hall, probing for any more movements. Why did they even take the main gate, they always took the service doors that are closer to the gardens. No, what was she even doing here? The Scavengers had been in the city for less than a week now, what was the Capitán of the Cors looking for with them now of all times?
“The Major is not with me if that’s what you were wondering.”
She had analyzed her silence. 22 bit the inside of their cheeks and unconsciously slowed down their breathing. She was taller than them, but 22 vividly remembered her standing much taller, looming as a dark tower, her glasses reflecting a frightening glare against them. How long had it been since they saw her last? She was an unavoidable presence, her claws sunk deep around the city’s heart since long before 22 came to the city. They had always made an effort to stay out of her way both as 22 and the Knight. Right now they needed to avoid spending any additional seconds in front of her.
“Well sorry again, I need to go,” 22 mumbled trying to shuffle to the left of the Capitán.
The Capitán rose her cane horizontally to block their advance, “Ah ah ah, wait a bit you, haven’t we met before?”
Their confidence had once again faltered at a critical juncture, 22 figured if their tone had been more convincing, their steps less shaky, they would’ve gone past her cane at the right moment. Without the Major, it wasn’t like she’d chase them around. But now the cane stood between them and the aerotrain, who felt so far away now.
“You’re a very famous person,” 22 answered, unconvinced that flattery would do the trick, “You’ve probably met everyone.”
The Capitán smile grew slightly, “Have I met anyone who would miss rush hour, to visit the Scavs right before their departure?”
She was asking rhetorically. They struggled to grasp the extent of her knowledge about their own life. Was she enjoying this? No use in playing coy to this degree, they needed to give her something so she would loosen her grasp.
“We met like a decade ago or something,” 22 grunted, “I had to be put on record as a citizen at City Hall.”
The Capitán didn’t react to the shift in 22’s approach, her glasses hiding any expression her glassy eyes could have conveyed. 22 had been inspired from her and the Major, even though they were reluctant to admit it, to to mask themselves as the Knight. The two hands of the Cors, with their opaque veils across their faces. 22 had envied that aura, but standing in front her now, they didn’t regret presenting themselves as they did. The kind of respect that prevented people like Damel from slandering you behind your back could only be garnered through fear. The kind of fear that prevents breaker, squatters and artists from using the ample space left in Freeway station for decades on end. The only thing worse than the knots currently in 22’s stomach was thinking about inflicting it to someone else. They doubted the Capitán had ever felt the same.
“Hm hm,” the Capitán hummed playfully, “I did ask about you to 3, usually retired Scavs take the way out not too long after stepping out of Freeway. I was wondering how you fared.”
This time the Capitán didn’t even bother with an inquisitive intonation. 22 didn’t want to talk about their life now anyway, especially not with her. She had been there when they were registered, her words that day only sounded like white noise but the memory resurfaced similar emotions. Was she trying to aggravate them somehow? The Knight knew all of the moves the Cors made for as long as they had started paying attention, but they could only see the aftermath of their actions. The inner workings of her decisions never leaked outside of their quarters in Byzance, her talons struck where she wanted, never met with any resistance, and she was free to reshape the carrion how she saw fit. 22 felt their body heat rise by the second having to look at her directly.
“I keep myself busy,” 22 replied, trying to sound as eloquent and calm as they could, “You can understand, I imagine.”
“So you did end up finding your calling, I remember that was your wish, right? Even some people born here aren’t so lucky, good for you… is your name still..?”
“22, still.”
“Haven’t thought of a better one? It easily betrays your heritage.”
“I like it, noone cares anyway.”
The way out was in view, 22 felt the tide recede as the Capitán lowered their cane to the ground, uncomfortably grazing against the side of their body on the way down. They could have bolted away once it was far away from their ankles but a question scorched the back of their mouth.
“And why do you care how I’m doing, madam, respectfully?”
The Capitán smile widened, not baring teeth. She gently laid a gloved index on 22’s lips, sending a chill down their spine.
“We all have our secrets, don’t we? I’ll be on my way, we should talk again soon!”
The Capitán headed past their frozen body towards the station’s gate, the blinding white light of the Sun engulfed her as she walked past the biggest ark. 22 stood there for a moment, their mind racing. A torrent of possibilities flooded their brain, they had always willingly avoided confrontations and collaborations with the Cors. Was this wishful thinking from the start? Accepting her offer for another discussion would be heading straight into her jaws. Without her presence intoxicating the air, the aerotrain came into focus in 22’s eyes once again.
3 stood tall, even with their spine slightly crooked forward. The mark of the elders of the Scavengers, decades and decades of crawling in the tightest parts of aerotrains. 22 could sneak up on them, they knew the elder’s hearing had gotten worse and they were focused on the front of the train, lost in thought. Reaching closer, they saw the wear on 3’s gear, the oil and steel dust covering all of it, making it impossible to know what the original color of it used to be. Not an inch of skin was exposed, even on their head. The sight gave 22 a shortness of breath, they found some comfort wearing the Knight’s helmet but they had the benefit of it allowing some air to pass through. Scavenger’s helms passed outside oxygen through a strong filter. That was not something 22 could imagine being subjected to again, even with the sometimes noxious air in Yama’s streets.
“Boo,” 22 said nonchalantly, with no intent to surprise.
They stood to 3’s right, looking at the giant locomotive, loudly vibrating. Mantra of its name, the last aerotrain. They could feel the heat exuding from there, a deeply familiar and uncomfortable feeling. It was clean, 22 wasn’t used to coming here so late, the snow had melted, the steel had been polished and the massive machine purred with intent. 3 looked down at them, the mismatched pitch black goggles and the stiff mouthpiece left nothing to interpret from his current emotions. 22 could only wait.
“22. Well?” 3 asked, their coarse voice heavily distorted by the filter artificially gave a hint of anger to their tone.
“I am, I am, sorry for not coming earlier. Well, I’m more sorry for me, I missed rush hour and had to scrap some information scattered all over the place. Still… sorry if I worried you.”
3’s attention went back to the locomotive, “Nola. Said 22 come. 3 not worried.”
Guilt bit 22’s heart. Trying to reach for the Sun had left them in more disarray than they’d wanted. They tried to play it cool in front of Faris but standing here, they wondered if it would have been better if he didn’t show up at all. They’d have bombed spectacularly but they would have found a way to turn this embarrassment into an open critique of the Doctors continued silence, rallying the city to their cause. Too many days too late to think about this now. The biggest reason the Knight had openly bragged then was to catch the attention of the newly arrived Scavengers. It was hard for 22 to get them to notice the impact the Knight had on the city, there was no better moment for them to listen, a deliberation on the fate of the world. That moment hadn’t come. Had they even paid attention?
“So did you listen to the Knightcall? Last time? With the Doctor?”
“Yes. Everyone did.”
22 felt like they were shrinking a few centimeters. There had been a possibility they had all ignored the taunt. For all 22 knew, most of the youngest Scavengers had no idea what the Doctors were and even less would have an idea of why it was monumental they had managed to get one to come to the city. But no, they all listened. Worst of all, 3 had gone silent and 22 had to reignite the conversation.
“So?”
“Insightful. Stillborn. Had no idea. Surprised a lot. 3 thought the Lord started killing newborns.”
That reply took 22 aback, they stared at the elder bewildered. It was true they only learned about the extent of the Stillborn after living in the city but they hadn’t even considered the Scavengers were so secluded they hadn’t sought to learn why there were no more children waiting on their tracks. Everytime they had visited the Scavengers as they rode back in the city, keeping their discussions strictly personal, they unintentionally widened the gap in knowledge between them. 22 already shared all they knew as the Knight, but none of them had listened before.
“Also. Doctors have their own aerocore? Like Mantra.”
Faris had said that, in the closing moments of the call. At that point the only thing clouding the Knight’s mind was that nearly everyone in the city had tuned out. Like the Stillborn, the Doctors having access to a decent aerocore was a given to anyone that thought about it for a second. They worked somewhere outside the city, far away from Volantis, they had to have a miniature version of it for them to be alive in the first place. The Scavengers were probably not even aware they lived this far out of Last Kunlun. 22 felt incredibly embarassed, they had followed the rest of their listeners in scoffing away what Faris had brought them when he had refused to say anything about one specific topic.
“What about the Sun?”
3’s filter made a wheezing sound that could have meant anything, “What. About the Sun? 22 wanted Doctors to fly to space? Pop the Sun? Fuel the Sun?”
22 waved the sarcasm away with a hand, “I wanted him to tell me something, anything.”
“Time. 22 wanted to know how long until the end.”
“You don’t?”
3 laughed, a confusing stuttering wheeze that they recognized well, “22. Grown up now. City adult. Forget our ways.”
22 had made a great effort to do so, they couldn’t argue with the elder. They had gotten stuck in their own head for days, almost missing their window to visit, over nothing. The Scavengers had listened and found lots to learn, 22 had managed caught them up to years of Last Kunlun news in one call.
“3. Never understand when sibling leave. Even with time. 3 didn’t understand when 22 left. Didn’t understand when 22 told siblings they became important for the city.”
“You understand now?” 22 asked tentatively.
“No.”
22 bit the inside of their cheeks. This was a happy turnaround still, but if this didn’t change their mind, nothing will. It was refreshing, in a sense, but the disappointment would linger for a while. That worry out of the way, 22 remembered their earlier encounter.
“Say, what did the Capitán want with you?”
3 groaned, a low and droning sound, and lowered their back to bring their face right in front of 22s, their spine cracking in rhythm, “Why? Does 22 ask? 3 wonders?”
“Hey, no conspiracy, I ran into her when she left,” 22 replied, seeing their reflection in 3’s biggest goggle.
“This. Is what you get for being important,” 3 whistled, straightening their back as much as they could, cracking loudly, “The. Lord has their eye on you.”
“She’s not supposed to know I, 22, am important though. That’s the point.”
“Meaningless. 22 plays the Lord’s game. Speaks the Lord’s language.”
It was easier when they only exchanged pleasantries, the disconnect between their lives wasn’t something to be mended.
“The Lord. Wanted memento from 1,” 3 continued, their gaze focused elsewhere.
A memento? The Scavengers had no sense for property or personal legacy, the only thing one could pass onto another aside from their name was…
“Volantis? 1 knew where Volantis was?”
22’s eyes were sparkling, the thought hadn’t even crossed their mind. They knew 1 had spearheaded the rehabilitation of Last Kunlun alongside the Old Man but was that secret held by everyone that surrounded him that day? They cursed their own lack of curiosity when it came to the Scavengers, they had unparalleled access to this kind of knowledge, they were as close as anyone could.
“No. 3 told the Lord the same. 1 refused to know. If 1 knew. If 1 left the answer to 3. 3 wouldn’t tell either.”
“Why not to me?”
“22. Plays the Lord’s game. Neither should hold aerocores.”
That was insulting but 22 followed the reasoning. They didn’t feel like arguing anymore, even if 3 had been able to appreciate an aspect of the work they put in every day, making them understand the gap between them and the Capitán would take another few years. Years they were not willing to give for such a reception again. Case closed.
“22. Looks well fed,” 3 continued, in the absence of a response.
“I am. Nothing to say about the clothes?” 22 replied, flaunting their jacket.
“It. Is unique.”
“Would you say it looks bad if you were thinking it?”
“It. Is unique.”
“I’ll take it,” 22 snorted, simulating patting 3 on the back to not get oil all over their palm, “Take care of everyone.”
22 started heading back to the main hall, the light of the Sun was pouring between the metal and quartz through the glass of the windows and the spanning roof into the entire station.
“The. Lord. Asked for Mantra to stay. Few more days.”
22 looked back in surprise, “And you accepted?”
“Mantra. Can use more rest. 22. Can visit inside. Still.”
22 looked at the hulking machine, canals of air tunnels coiling around the archaic design of the vehicle that had housed their childhood, their first memories. They had been granted the opportunity to turn their back on that part of their life, but they visited every time the Scavengers rode back into the city, looking from afar. No need to think too hard about the rationality of it. As usual, they would decline the offer with only a weak smile, they expected 3 to understand as much. 22 headed back through the arches, disappearing into the light.