The Smudger Read online

  “The rogues know that the vessel is here. And they’re coming for it.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “In a matter of minutes, I’d guess.”

  I looked at Saji, and then at our daughter. She had no idea what was happening. That her whole world was about to be turned upside down.

  “How did they find out?” Saji asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Narata.

  “How do we know this? Is this information reliable?” I asked.

  “I trust in it completely. So I need you both to leave, straight away. Take the vessel to Kumonayo. Tokai, the brood mother there, will be expecting you.”

  “Kumonayo? That’s the other side of the country. It’s not even a sister colony.”

  “It’s the only place that’s safe for you right now.”

  I looked at Saji. “We need to get Kioto. Pack our things.”

  “There’s no time,” Narata said.

  “We can’t take anything?”

  “There’s simply not time. And Kioto is away at her lessons. Miya’s taken her up to to Iwoyo. There’s just no time.”

  The hammering of my heart stopped then. It froze in that moment; pumping neither in nor out. The whole world stalled. The sea paused in its eternal cycle, the wind hushed, the clouds ceased their passage across the sky. Even the sun dimmed.

  “There’s no time? To collect our daughter?”

  “I’m sorry, Senetsu, but there’s no choice. You must protect the vessel, and that means leaving Kioto behind.”

  “Leaving her to what? Death?”

  “She’s safely away, as are all of the students. Okaporo will live on. And she will be a part of its rebuilding. Okaporo will need her.”

  “She’s eight years old,” said Saji.

  Narata nodded towards Omori. “And she’s only four. Yet she carries the burden of the entire future on those little shoulders.”

  “No,” I said. “We carry that burden for her. You can’t expect Kioto to—” All of our phones pinged. We didn’t need to read the message to know what it said.

  “You need to go,” said Narata. “You need to go now or it will be too late. It will all be for nothing. The traders will lose the vessel and you… You will lose your beautiful little girl, and Kioto will still be all alone. You have a chance to save them both, even if you can’t take them both with you.”

  “You’re asking us to choose between our children,” Saji said.

  “No,” I replied. “We’re not even getting a choice.”

  “None of us have a choice anymore,” Narata said.

  My body went cold. “What about the rest of you?”

  Narata shook her head slowly. “There’s just no time. The vessel is the only important one.” She looked over at Omori. “We must protect her at all cost. All cost.”

  “Come with us.”

  Narata shook her head again. “I’ll only slow you down.”

  I grabbed her and pulled her tight up against me. Narata had been present my whole life. A second mother, grandmother. I couldn’t imagine existing without her. It was like saying goodbye to my own shadow.

  “Ever watchful,” I whispered in her ear.

  And then I let her go. I scooped up my daughter, and we left, amid the swelling sound of engines.

  We ran south, heading for the mountains. I’d never seen them, but I could already feel their presence, looming, invisible, ahead of us. I could feel the cold pressing towards us, their hard edges, their featureless faces. And behind us, the cool ocean. The only home I’d ever had. The only family I’d ever known. Everyone who loved me. Everyone I loved. My daughter. Part of me would always be in Okaporo. I wondered if I’d ever be complete again.

  Next to me, Saji breathed hard, and Omori whimpered as she jolted up and down in his arms. We hadn’t even brought a coat for her.

  When our throats burned, and our legs shook from the exertion, we stopped. We turned back to Okaporo, and let the wind blow smoke into our faces. Our home was in flames. Our people were burning. We heard the crackle of gunfire, an explosion.

  And still my heart did not beat. I vowed that it never would again.

  7

  KIOTO

  When I returned to the exchange, I was relieved to find it empty. The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled grimly.

  “No luck?”

  I shook my head. “They decided to go with a different provider.”

  “Bloody basers. I’m sorry love, they’re all at it these days.”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and laid it on the counter. “Look, I don’t have enough money to pay for another job.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll refund the last one.”

  “Really? That would be great, thank you so much.” She was under no obligation to do that, but in tough times, you looked after your community. And however much I tried to distance myself from it, this was my community.

  “Choose another one, free of charge.” She gestured towards the screens behind her. “Not that there’s much choice on offer, I’m afraid.”

  “There never is for people like us,” I said. “I’ll take 543G.”

  She loaded the information onto a cyber card and handed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Sticking round for a few days, are you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “A couple, I guess.”

  “Well, I hope you have better luck with this one.”

  “Thanks.”

  The address wasn’t far; a third floor property in an undesirable part of the city. I stood on the pavement outside and looked up at the block. Every instinct told me to walk away, that something wasn’t right. But, unless I was willing to sell my soul and take an illegal job, I didn’t have much choice.

  I stepped up to the door and ran my cyber card across the reader. It automatically announced my arrival. Somewhere up above me, a robotic woman’s voice would chirp, ‘You have a caller from the exchange. Would you like to grant access?’ The door beside me buzzed, and I pushed it open. I checked the cyber card. Number 34.

  The building’s hallway was functional and characterless. A small curved desk stood at one side, but there was no sign of security, if there ever had been any. It didn’t seem like the sort of place that would hire someone to watch who came in and out. It didn’t look like the sort of place that even cared.

  I pressed the button for the lift, and waited. Nothing. No lights, no whirr of machinery. No indication that it was operational. I looked around for the stairs. I’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. Luckily, my entire life had prepared me for having to do things the hard way.

  The stairway and upstairs landings were decorated with the same formality as the hallway. Completely inoffensive, nothing to cause controversy.

  I knocked on the door.

  “Are you the trader?” A voice called from the other side of it.

  “Yes,” I called back hesitantly.

  I listened as several bolts were drawn back on the door, and my estimation of the neighbourhood reduced even further. Again, I found myself fighting the urge to run. But I stood there, and even managed a smile as the door was pulled open.

  The face that appeared looked me up and down slowly. It frowned. I drew my hair back to reveal my scarred eye. It nodded, and the door was opened further.

  The room beyond was small and packed with people. I hesitated.

  “It’s busy,” I said. “I can’t work with so many people here.”

  “Don’t worry,” the face said. “There’s a bedroom beyond. It’s completely private.”

  “I can’t have too much noise.”

  “They’ll be quiet, I promise. It’s not a problem.”

  They placed a hand in the small of my back, and pushed me forward into the room. Everyone looked up at me, and stared.

  “Perhaps...” I began, but the hand kept pushing me in. It pushed me through the group of people, tha
t parted politely, or as politely as an intimidating crowd can, and pushed me right through the doorway into the bedroom. And then it shut the door.

  Sat on the bed was a girl no older than myself. Her hands were pressed down between her thighs, and she looked up at me nervously. I glanced around. We were alone.

  “Hi. I’m Kioto.”

  “I’m Ata.”

  “Is this your choice? Are you doing this because you want to?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you had an extraction before?”

  She shook her head. “Well,” she added. “Not since my Purification.”

  I nodded. It was a common ritual for citizens that involved the removal of the first four of five years of a child’s memories. They claimed that it was to remove the trauma of the birth, first teeth, and so on, but I lived with those memories, and they didn’t do any harm. The truth was, that to train as a trader or a merchant, you needed all of your memories intact. If even one was missing, you wouldn’t ever be able to perform extractions. And citizens did not want their children to become merchants. The money could be good, but it was not something you hoped for your children. Traders and merchants did something invasive, something widely misunderstood, and so they were feared. And fear often masked itself behind hatred.

  “Well, don’t worry, it’s not painful in the slightest. It feels a little bit odd, and can be uncomfortable as the memory comes out, but, believe me, this is a lot worse for me than it is for you.”

  Ata smiled slightly. “How come?”

  “After performing an extraction, we suffer something called ‘the throw’. It’s nausea, dizziness, confusion, aching joints. A little bit like flu I suppose. Sometimes it’s not too bad, other times you feel like you might die.”

  “Might you?”

  “No, no, don’t worry. No one’s ever died from the throw.”

  Ata nodded again.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s going to be fine. Lie down and make yourself comfortable.”

  She lay back on the bed and shifted about for a while. As she finally stilled, I dropped my bag to the floor and opened it.

  “Before we do the extraction, I’m going to perform the Dedication. It’s just a traditional ceremony that traders do beforehand. I might say or do things that seem a little odd, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m simply calling the High in to assist me.”

  “Ok.”

  On the floor, I laid out my bowl, heather, rabbit pelt, and pebble. The bowl remained empty, it was only representative after all. The heather was brown and dry, and the pelt was matted and patchy. I ran my thumb over the pebble. It was chipped and cracked, but it was the only thing I had from Okaporo. I lifted it to my nose and breathed in the salty scent of it. In truth, it had probably lost its smell over the years, but my brain filled it back in.

  I placed my fingers on the rim of the bowl, and closed my eyes. “My life was given by you, and will be offered up to you again. I will treasure your gift and use it in a way that glorifies your names.”

  I moved my hand to the prickle of the dried heather. “My roots were chosen by you, and your wisdom has set me on the correct path. I faithfully walk that path for you, and do so in your names.”

  I touched the pelt. “My family was given by you, and will be offered up to you again. They are my strength, my home, and my responsibility. I will love them in a way that honours your names.”

  I picked the pebble up into my hand. “You gave me free will, you gave me choices, and I will seek to mould my life with grace and truth. I will be influenced only by these things, and influence others by them. I choose to respect your teachings and follow your ways. For all of this I give thanks and ask for your blessing. Please stand with me as I perform this rite. Let my hands be your hands, my breath, your breath, and my heart, a vessel for your presence. In your names, I ask this.”

  Standing, I turned around to the bed. I placed one hand on Ata’s forehead, and the other on her stomach.

  “Just relax,” I whispered to her. “You’ll feel me come into your mind. Don’t panic, just invite me in. Then I want you to push forward the memory for extracting. Just think about it, and it will become obvious to me. Here we go.”

  Her mind resisted my presence at first. It nearly always happened, it was a reflex, a defence mechanism. But she relented and relaxed and, after a moment, a memory came forward.

  I didn’t run the memory, it wasn’t mine to pry at. Some traders and merchants used the extraction like entertainment, like gossip. But it was none of my business what she wanted to forget. Or why. I collected the memory and deposited it deep in my mind.

  I could feel the early beginnings of the throw already; a growing headache at the base of my skull. I pressed my eyes tightly closed and shook my head, but the movement exacerbated the pain. I was beginning to withdraw when another memory jumped in front of me.

  “Do you want me to take this one as well?” I whispered. I felt Ata nod under my hand. “Are you sure?” She nodded again.

  I tucked the memory away with the other, and withdrew from her mind.

  “There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  Ata began to sit up.

  “Stay there for a moment,” I said quickly. “You’ll be a little dizzy, so just come up slowly. I have to get going, I need to get to a safehouse before the throw really kicks in.”

  I quickly packed my ritual items away, carefully tucking my pebble away into its separate pouch.

  I gripped the edge of the bed and hauled myself up to standing, and a wave of nausea tried to bring me back to my knees.

  “Can you see the memories you take from me?”

  “If I look,” I said, gulping down air. “But I choose not to.”

  “I think I’d be too curious. You can look at mine if you want to. It might help.”

  “Help what?”

  “With the throw. I read that somewhere.”

  I snorted. I knew exactly where she’d read that. Several years ago, a trader called Sumi Cline had published a book—‘The Secrets of The High’—in an attempt to increase understanding of colony traders, and improve the relationship between them and the rest of society. If anything, the book had served only to widen the rift. It did nothing to improve understanding, it merely laid the lives of colony traders bare for citizens to pick apart, belittle, and demonise. Sumi was despised on both sides.

  “It’s ok, I’m used to it,” I said.

  “I really don’t mind. You can look at them. You should look at them.”

  The door opened then, and the person who had opened the front door to me reappeared.

  “All done?”

  I nodded, my brain swimming.

  “We’ll sort out payment then. Have you got your cyber card?” He was playing it by the rules. By loading his payment onto the card, I’d have to return to the exchange to transfer it into my own account. Minus their commission charge, of course.

  I took the cyber card back and pushed it into my pocket. There were large dark patches in my vision now, and I stumbled forward. I bashed my shoulder against something hard before a pair of hands stood me back up.

  “You need to lie down,” a voice said.

  “I just need to get to a safehouse. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re going nowhere in this state. Rest here, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

  A sudden cramp across my stomach bent me double. I’d rarely experienced a throw this bad.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, but I didn’t believe it. Trying to find a safehouse like this would be almost impossible, it was far more likely that I’d pass out in the street, and this wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood you wanted that to happen in. I nodded, and allowed the hands to lead me to the bed.

  “We’ll just leave you to rest. You’ll be fine.”

  “I hope you feel better soon,” Ata said.

  8

  KIOTO

  When I woke it was dark outside. I shivered. I didn’t need to get up to kno
w everyone had left, leaving behind a cold stillness.

  I sat up slowly, testing my head. It was fogged with a dull aching, but it was otherwise fine. As I swung my legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, my foot caught in the strap of my bag. It was too light. Empty.

  I looked down. Everything I owned was tossed across the floor. Or, at least, everything I owned that hadn’t been of some value. I knelt down and gathered it up, cataloguing as I packed everything away. My knife was gone, and some of my clothes. My walking boots, my compass, a small statuette I’d traded for a while ago, my bag of herbs, my first aid kit, my solar lantern. And my pebble.

  “Shit!” I screamed aloud.

  I checked my pockets. Of course, they’d had no interest in my phone, it was a dinosaur, but the cyber card was gone. They’d taken back their payment.

  With tears swelling in my throat, I swung my bag onto my back and stepped through to the living room. I’d been wrong. Not everyone had left. Ata was sat on the sofa.

  “Where did they go?” I asked her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to do it. They made me.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “You shouldn’t go after them. They’re not safe. They’ll hurt you.”

  I knotted my fists into my hair and screamed.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ata said again. “I tried to warn you.”

  “What? When?”

  She tapped her temple.

  “The memories,” I whispered. Bringing them forward, I ran them through my head. The first one I’d taken was a memory of her being attacked. She was better off without that. The other showed Ata being forced into the plan to ‘rip off a ripper’. She had tried to warn me. I nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “It was the only way I could think to tell you. Although, it probably would have been too late anyway.”

  “How come you stuck around?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were ok. I honestly thought you were going to die.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “You should get out of here, before they come back.”

  “Maybe you should too.”

  Ata shrugged. “I’ll be alright.”