Operator Aoki, you are cleared to engage at your discretion. We have backup en route to your position, estimated time of arrival is between three and five minutes, should you choose to intervene.
Mitsuru was surprised. There was no way that Central would attempt to open a route through the Ether, not to suppress a single pack of Weir. Operators who could perform apport protocols were in short supply, and they always seemed to be needed elsewhere. That meant that there was an Operator somewhere nearby, close enough to intervene. The chances of it happening by coincidence were miniscule.
Clarify, Central. I need a situational analysis.
Another brief silence on the line, while Alistair consulted the Analytical pool.
Operator Aoki, according to our projections, if you hold the Weir back from their target for a minimum of three minutes, the chances of a successful intervention are well within operational tolerances. If you do not feel you can meet or exceed this standard, then we suggest limiting your involvement to observation.
Mitsuru paused for a moment, taking stock of her remaining strength. She was uncertain whether she could hold off the Weir even that long, but there was a sense of urgency in Alistair’s thoughts that made her think this was something big.
Whatever was going on here, she decided, it was important. Important enough, in the eyes of Central, to merit the risk. Important enough to the Weir that they acted in this highly abnormal manner. And whatever else was true, Mitsuru decided, she needed an important success if she was going to continue to work in the field. For her own sake, and for the sake of her mentor.
I will engage, Central. But it’s unlikely that I can hold out for three minutes.
His promise was immediate and reassuring, because it was Alistair.
I’ll do what I can to expedite, Mitzi. Do you require any protocol downloads?
Mitsuru was surprised again. Clearly, she thought, there was more going on here than she’d realized, if Central had authorized unlimited protocol downloads for a field operation.
Negative, Control. Engaging.
She was already falling back down, away from the halo, through the grey currents, following the red string back to her body, back to the rooftop, to the boy and the wolves.
Good luck, Mitzi…
Mitsuru heard the concern in Alistair’s voice, before it was obliterated by the rush of sensations as she was jolted back into her body, the sheer nausea and tactile euphoria of a physical body.
Two
Alex walked with his head down, his eyes on his feet, not thinking too hard about where he was going, as long as it was away from school. His headphones were deafeningly loud, and it gave the world a surreal and almost cinematic feel, somehow. He took a certain satisfaction in that. The streetlights bled yellow light, yellow like the moon, and Alex threaded a path between them, trying to stay in the puddles of dark in between the sulfur light.
He kept walking, simply because he had nothing else to do. One more absence from afternoon class wouldn’t make a whole lot of difference — as a matter of fact, his chances of joining the rest of his class as a senior next year were kind of up in the air, due almost entirely to lack of effort on his part. Not because of his grades, of course; he’d been careful to always be an average student, no matter the subject. But his attendance had slipped from ‘barely acceptable’ last year to ‘frequently absent without reason’ this year, and he’d been placed on academic probation for it. At the very least, that meant summer school. And Alex did not want any more school than he had already.
It wasn’t so much the classes that he wanted to avoid, he thought, glancing at the windows of a used clothing shop he passed, oddly fixated on the way they caught and reflected the jaundiced light. Mostly, he wanted to avoid the people.
For as long as he could remember, Alex had wanted to go someplace where no one knew him; no one knew about his parents, no one knew the whole ugly story. After his grandmother had died last year, he’d almost done it, too. He’d even bought bus tickets to Los Angeles, and spent several evenings trying to figure out how to fit his meager possessions into a single duffel bag. It had been comforting, puzzling through what he would need and what he could do without, a little bit like freedom. But he’d known, even at the time that he wouldn’t go through with it.
It was alright, Alex decided, kicking the crushed remains of an aluminum can into the gutter, to admit it — he was afraid to leave. This town — a wretched little suburb in the orbit of Bakersfield — was the only place he’d ever been, unless you counted the places where he’d been locked up. The idea of going somewhere new, where no one knew him, was something that Alex played with on the bad days, a comforting fantasy. The reality of it terrified him. Outside of being alone all the time, Alex figured, his life right now was pretty comfortable. And he’d spent the better part of the last eight years alone, which was nearly long enough for him to convince himself that he didn’t mind it.
He was surprised to find himself at the entrance to the park. Alex figured that his body had brought him here, the park where he often slept when ditching school, on some form of auto-pilot. He’d found it while wandering around the area, cutting class one day, in an anonymous neighborhood at the end of a cul-de-sac. He didn’t even know what the park’s name was, if it even had a name. It wasn’t the worst destination he could have picked, actually, as the park was deserted and he wanted to sit down somewhere. He turned off the music, but left his ear buds in, as he headed through the park gates.
He trudged along the muddy sidewalk bordering the lake, careful to keep his grey sneakers dry, not entirely sure why he bothered. He reached the play structure and sat down, leaned his back up against it, closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything. The important thing, he knew, was not to think about what he was going to do next, once he graduated, once school was over with.
Because then he would panic. After all, he didn’t have a clue.
The lake smelled awful; a marshy, rotten-egg stink that was probably the reason Alex had the park to himself. It didn’t bother him that much. He had low expectations in general, and life had been obliging in meeting those expectations. The important thing was that the park was empty, not the smell of the bird shit saturated water. Alex tried not to wonder. Tried to not think. It was a skill, one that he had honed through years of confinement and observation, when he couldn’t sleep anymore, and he’d gotten good at it. Normally it was easy for him to empty his head, but tonight it didn’t seem to be working. The more he tried to quiet his mind, the more it tried to wander.
Alex looked out at the foul water, the few stars peaking reluctantly through the smog, the cluster of bare branches and tangled briar that edged the park, and felt sorry for himself. He spent much of his time here sleeping and feeling sorry for himself, but he wasn’t tired enough to sleep right now.
It wasn’t a sound that startled him. It couldn’t have been, because they made no noise. But something snapped Alex out of his reverie, made him open his eyes, and then made him take a second, harder look, after the first revealed nothing.
At the edge of the park, something was moving out of the brush; actually, Alex realized that it was a number of something’s. Large and long-limbed, too big for dogs, but moving on all fours. Silent grey shapes moving out of the scrub and across the mud and dead grass, their eyes shining in the long shadows of dusk, reflecting the yellow moon.