The Elders' Sequence

Chapter 16: Hiding from Heat
Mira

The heat of the following day was even less forgiving than the people would be with Zaraith. I couldn’t give an accurate temperature in degrees, as my concept of temperature didn’t transfer to either the measurement system or the cultural perception of it. By my estimates, the House of the Leadership was usually kept within a semi-comfortable seventy to ninety degree range, which was a compromise for the Aluzamoakans and non-Aluzamoakans staying within its walls. Most days in Tikmok were between probably ninety and one hundred and fifty degrees. However, some days, the outside temperature could feel close to two hundred.

At midday, the temperature was drawing closer to that extreme end, which was uncomfortable for most Aluzamoakans and a death sentence for someone like me. My overskin had a mechanism that drew away heat, but it was weak. Bringing a full body suit that provided the correct temperature, pressure, and oxygen levels hadn’t been an option, given my limited packing space. With it, I might have been able to breathe easier, but my agility would have been noticeably reduced. Of course, without it, there was the possibility I could drop dead in a short amount of time, if the conditions were right.

Along with avoiding patrols, I avoided the sun, considering the greater threat that it was. I had been through the Eastern Business District innumerable times, but the alleys were still a maze to me—a maze which I needed to surrender to. Down these alleys, I found alcoves that were carved into the walls of buildings or below them. I had heard of these being used by the few homeless folk that roamed the streets on days such as these. Each alcove I found was occupied, and some were packed full with sour-smelling people.

The alleys that were mostly in shadow were starting to spin. My chest was heaving. I tried to be conservative with the water I had, but couldn’t help taking large gulps every time I drank. This carelessness could not last. As my fingernails scratched into the wall I clung to, I stumbled upon another alcove. Its entrance was narrow, and between deep breaths, I squeezed inside.

When I turned on the flashlight in my pack, three sets of crystalline eyes faced me.

“I’m—I need—please—let me stay,” I managed to stutter as I fumbled into a sitting position, leaned my back against the slope of the wall, and slipped down it. I waited for my breath to slow before taking a drink.

The eyes continued to stare at me. I stretched out my hand with the unit of water, in the direction of no one in particular.

“We know you need it more than us,” the person beside me said, while one of the others began to reach for it. The other person then paused and nodded reluctantly while the third stared at a stone between their feet.

I didn’t say anything more, couldn’t say anything more, and they didn’t either. They knew who I was and that was enough for them. As I began to catch my breath, I tried thinking of things to say, but fell asleep before anything came to mind.

I awoke to pitch black. My three companions were gone. My bag, which I had left beside me, still had all the provisions I’d had when I’d entered. I wiped the sweat from my face and sighed. This was one of the many admirable things about Aluzamoakans in general. Even strangers cared for each other, taking only what was needed and sacrificing comfort for the benefit of someone else. Mistreating one was mistreating the whole.

The cool of the night trickled in and my appetite surfaced. I had a meal of two pieces of kopt jerky, which tasted like beef, and a few pieces of dried fruit, letting the slices linger before chewing so I could absorb their mild sweetness.

I emerged to find that Zadekika still moved, despite dwindling work and trade. Vehicles hovered high above while I and other pedestrians walked below. Across the wide walkway, a patrol was marching toward the district circle. My back to the wall, I ducked into the shadows.

The effects of Zaraith’s orders became tangible as I returned to the alleys. Homelessness was once rare, but many homeless people, having emerged from the alcoves of the day, now lingered about the alleyways at night.

One person was wrapped in an electronic banner, still flashing its message:

By order of the Prime Leadership: all persons are required to carry their official imperial identification at all times. Any person found without their identification will be apprehended and subject to fines or imprisonment.

The blocks of text scrolled across the person while they slept, seemingly unfazed by the demands that bound them.

Around broken crates, metallic beams, and garbage, I caught sight of furtive deals. The goods exchanged ranged from illegal things like high-powered weapons to once-legal things such as extra water units. During one deal, the interlocutors stopped their brief, whispered exchanges to stare at me. I decided to approach them before they could call me out. With my left hand resting on my hilt, I moved into their space between two stacks of crates, as they backed hard into the wall. “Second Mira?” one whispered.

I nodded once. “Still at your service,” I said. Their eyes found one another’s, each reflecting the other’s fearful hesitation. “I won’t bother you for long because my presence puts you in danger, but what can you tell me about this new requirement to carry identification?”

The one who had said my name spoke again with a steady but wary gaze. “People are being cut or shot down. On the spot in some cases, I’ve heard. Haven’t seen it.”

My skin prickled with a concern I couldn’t quite identify. “Are there any other new orders? Or anything you’ve seen that’s wrong? As of about two days ago?”

The second person glanced at their companion, then looked back at me. “They were evicted from their home,” they said with a nod to the first person.

“I couldn’t keep up with the resident’s share,” the first clarified, eyes squeezing shut briefly. “I lost my job. So many people have lost their jobs over this new direction, as it’s called.”

“You mean the use of robotics in the factories?”

They nodded and inhaled. “It’s more than that, though. There’s no support for us. The building operator let me stay there for as long as they could manage, but in the end, they came for them. They were letting too many stay without paying their shares. When the authorities aren’t getting their cut, apparently, they just shut you out now.”

I shook my head, frowning deeply. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why this is happening.”

“But you’ll do something?” the first person pressed. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

I opened my mouth and closed it. A nod was the only answer I could give.

From that point forward, I passed through those cluttered, trashed alleyways as a kind of fugitive reporter, speaking to anyone who noticed me. Despite experiencing a different collection of injustices in the House, living there had sheltered me from far too much and for far too long.

One person ended up in my arms, crying, their horns brushing my neck. They wouldn’t be the last I would comfort like this. They sniffled and whispered as they glanced about, “Our lives are being taken from us. Our social lives included. We’re not allowed to gather in groups larger than ten, not even virtually. There are certainly no more shows, no more festivals.” They grasped me by the hands. “Do something, Second. I know you must be in dire straits yourself, being out here like this, but anything you can do—please.” They took a final glance behind them and hurried away.

As the sun rose on the next day, the heat was absorbed by the dark bedrock, warming the early morning. It would be another unbearably hot day. Before I found a new alcove, I needed to restock on water. I lined up in front of a food stand. The stand itself had been thrown together with scrap metal and some sort of epoxy, which had dried in long streams down the table legs.

“Three units of water and a protein bar, please,” I said to the older person standing behind the table.

Their eyes and hands floated, stopping and starting, over their goods. “Former business operator? Former factory worker? Or something else?” they asked with mild indifference, as they bent to the side and opened the cooler.

“Former imperial employee,” I said. They paused, hand over the cooler’s opening, and looked up at me. They squinted and pressed their hands into the table. The sun, starting to tip upward, was shadowing my face under the stained rag I had thrown over my head. They squinted harder, and I realized they couldn’t see so well.

I pushed back the rag a little. Once they took in my face with their crystalline purple eyes, they started to cry. “What are you doing here?” they whispered shakily. “Don’t you know about the new order—?”

I sucked in air rapidly through my bared teeth, hushing them the Aluzamoakan way. “Listen, I don’t want to take much from you, but I do want to pay you for what I take.” I reached under my hood, unsnapped the top of my suit, and pulled out my necklace. On the simple, tiny chain dangled a dark-red stone encased in gold and silver. It had been a gift from Zaraith about a year ago and it was probably worth several hundred units of water.

When I bent over and opened my hand, they cried harder.

I hushed them again. “Please. Just the three units and a protein bar.”

“You are too good,” they said, shaking their head at the necklace in their hand. As quickly as they had started crying, they sobered, their cheeks losing their shimmer in the dry heat. They stashed the payment as they leaned back over the table. “You are too good for him,” they whispered, as they passed me five units of water and two protein bars. In a fainter whisper they added, “Edaye Leazamak.”

Our Leader.

I stared agape at them. Then as if I was just another customer, they waved me on with a curt smile. I backed away with my goods and repositioned my makeshift veil.

The fact I hadn’t been captured yet was starting to scare me. Surely Zaraith had all units and sensors on alert? Someone or some machine working for him had to have spotted me at some point, if not in the alleys, then somewhere outside the House. My direction of travel had to have been tracked, no matter how conscientious I had been about making myself lost.

I would have to keep wondering when I might be apprehended; I couldn’t risk asking any of my allies. I had no one to approach that I didn’t either suspect as Zaraith’s ally or didn’t want to betray as mine. My friends across the city would already be in trouble, assuming they were facing the hardships so many others were. The Elders could not be trusted. I could see their unreadable stares across the folding skin of their faces and bare heads. They would ask why I felt the need to kill a group of my own warriors. They would ask why I had waited to consult them. They would hold me, the off-worlder, responsible for the depth of the problem, for my negligence. They might even take Zaraith’s side.

I knew I was no help where I was. Perhaps I should have stayed in the House, tried to pry Zaraith away from his position from the inside. Warriors surrounded the House, but within its walls, there weren’t many to challenge me. The staff and I could have worked together to develop a more intelligent, solid plan over time. Instead, I had left Zaraith with all those resources at his disposal. Even so, had I stayed, I might not have seen for myself how the outer injustices were increasing daily.

On my next nightly rounds, I learned of an order that had been instated that day—the one which the vendor must have been referring to. Off-worlders were to report to local authorities in all regions. It was rumored that they were being detained and deported.

Some people told me to hide. Some told me to run. Running to the UGE seemed more and more appealing, and I knew that my chances of survival on my own were narrowing.

The next day, I found myself in an alcove next to a clogging garbage shoot, nibbling my last protein bar. Between light sleeping periods, I tried not to think. I tried to focus on my face, which felt like it was slowly roasting. Focusing on individual parts of my body seemed a more productive way to meditate, rather than letting thoughts spin in and spiral out. I couldn’t connect to my thoughts, but I could connect to my body, which could intuit more about reality in many cases. So I had been taught by Zootak. As if Zootak could be trusted now, I thought bitterly.

Sometime in the afternoon, I heard the clamoring of feet and hushed voices down the alley. I jumped up and pressed back into the wall as two people ran by. “Stop!” I heard from around the corner, and I fell to the ground again, covering my face and bunching up into the alcove.

Peeking at the pursuers, I saw blurred angles of crimson red and white uniforms, those of imperial agents. As I listened to their shouts die, I decided to go the way they had come.

Not only did I need a better hiding place, I needed someone to talk to—someone who might be able to see both the macro and micro views. Someone who was both an outsider and an insider.

I turned the corner and scrambled back around it as soon as I saw another group of agents convening. They didn’t seem to have seen me, but I bolted back down the alley, dodging piles of garbage and unsuspecting people as I went.

After sliding to the ground and into another shallow alcove, I caught my breath and took a few careful sips of water. Then I rolled out of the alcove and ran for the nearest train station. Impulse was driving me toward the nearest place that was most like Earth.

The Elders' Sequence

Chapter 16: Hiding from Heat Mira

Chapter 16: Hiding from Heat
Mira