He smiled when he saw me, but I could see something else behind the look. His eyes were thoughtful, and serious.
“What’s all this?” I asked him.
“I figured we’d spend your last night here hanging out, just you and me. Like old times.”
I hadn’t expected it. When I first told him I was moving out, it seemed to make him mad, but he was so relieved I was alive that he didn’t harp on it. Afterward, as the day got closer, he kind of clammed up more and more. I’d been waiting for a fight, or something.
“You know it’s not because of you, right?”
“I know. You’re twenty, Sam. It’s time.”
“I’m not going far.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m still going to miss you, though.”
I crossed around the table and leaned down to hug him. He put his arms around me and squeezed, holding me the way he used to when I was little, the way that always made me feel safe. We stayed like that for a while, until he patted my back. Then I kissed his cheek and stepped away.
“I’ll never be far,” I said.
“Same here.”
“So, where’s the brat?” I asked, moving to the free chair and sitting down.
“Ling’s got him for the night.”
“Lucky her.”
He cracked the bottle and poured out two shots. He held his up, and I clinked it with mine before we knocked them back. The liquor was sweet, and smooth going down.
I looked at the pack of smokes and the ashtray. “You gonna let me smoke in the apartment?”
He shrugged. “You do it all the time anyway.”
“When you’re not here.”
“Go ahead.”
I reached for the pack and peeled the foil off, then opened it and held the smokes under my nose. They smelled good. I drew one out and pinched off the tip containing the Zen oil, dropping it in the ashtray. Dragan grinned.
“Sorry,” I said, sticking the cigarillo in the corner of my mouth while I fished out my lighter.
“Don’t be. You’re better off.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to look so happy about it.”
“How long has it been?” he asked.
I shrugged, lighting the smoke. “A while.” It had been exactly thirteen days.
“What changed your mind?”
“Got tired of being fuzzy, I guess.”
Dragan’s grin turned to a smile, a real smile that made crow’s-feet spread from the corners of his eyes. He nodded, and the smile faded as his look turned serious.
“About what happened,” he said, putting the shot glass down, “at Shiliuyuán Station.”
We hadn’t talked about it since that day, not really. We’d talked about everything that led up to it, and how we both managed to get out, but we’d never talked about the main thing, the big thing.
I nodded, and felt my throat begin to burn. I guess I didn’t think I’d make it out without him saying something, but I was afraid, terrified of what he would say.
“I left you,” I said.
“You did the right thing, Sam.”
I shook my head. “I ran, and left you both there to—”
“You didn’t run,” he said.
“I did, though.”
“You made a tough call,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You put your own needs aside and made a very tough call. You could have lost people who are important to you, and I know what that means to you, believe me. You knew that, but you chose to save them. That was the right thing to do. The life of one forty-something-year-old man isn’t worth the lives of millions.”
“It is to me.”
“And still, you made the call. I’m proud of you.”
I swallowed, feeling relieved and sad at the same time. “I thought you might feel like I betrayed you or something.”
“Is that what this is about? Why you’re leaving?”
I shook my head. “No, not that. It’s just…”
“Time.”
“Something like that.”
He poured out two more shots and I sucked in smoke and held it while took the second shot, blowing it away while gazing out the window. The sun had just dipped below the skyline’s staircase row of the Bojo Towers, and off in the distance, beyond the rust brown, one swatch in the sky had turned a particular shade of pink.
“You ever hear from your haan friend?” Dragan asked.
I shook my head and rubbed my latest tattoo. I made sure to have it inked on my left arm and not my right, but I think Dragan still wasn’t sure what to make of it. I turned it up and looked it over, the redness around the edges of the band still visible in the fading light.
NIX.
“He’s not my friend,” I said.
“Then why the tattoo?”
“We’re bonded. And I owe him.”
“But he’s not your friend?”
I wondered where he was now. I thought about going to Shangzho, to try and find him, but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. I couldn’t bring myself to be surrounded by them, to put myself in their hands like that. Maybe he was okay, and like us he was just kind of lying low, and keeping the boat from rocking too much, but every time I checked his chat icon on the 3i, the little heart was gray.
“He’s not my friend.”
“Is that why you withdrew from the surrogate program?” he asked.
I shrugged. He didn’t say anything for a minute, but when he did, his voice was low, and serious.
“Sam, what did you see down there?”
I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t told anyone, not even Vamp.
“Nothing,” I said.
The haan’s deception bothered me, but I could, in a way, understand it. If that’s how they really looked, they were right to think people would freak out because I still shivered when I thought of it. What really bothered me was Fangwenzhe. There wasn’t an astronomer in the country who would say it hadn’t been there forever, and yet it had only appeared in the sky less than fifty years before. Anyone who contradicted that disappeared, like that man Jin, who escaped the meat farm with us. The haan might cloud our minds, but that lie wasn’t just theirs; it was our own. Fifty years of isolation, propaganda, and information control had made an entire population believe something the rest of the world had to know wasn’t true. They’d worked together on that, and who knew what else?
Why?
The foreigners, the people in the ships massed up around us, they’d been trying to tell us. They still were, through the signal Hwong had labeled a cyberattack. Outside the range of the haan’s influence, what else did they know? What were they trying so hard to warn us of?
A fat scalefly buzzed around the overhead light before lighting down on the tabletop, drawn in by the sweetness of the liquor. It sat there, its single compound eye staring up at me as it rubbed its hooked legs together.
“I know how important the program was to you,” Dragan said. “You love taking care of them.”
“I just need a break from it, I think.”
He knew me well enough to know there had to be more to it than that, but he didn’t press. The truth was that I missed having one around. I really missed it, but I couldn’t look at the haan in the same way anymore. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to again.
Another message from Vamp popped up about the 3i tray, and began to flash an urgent orange.
You need to see this. I looked back to Dragan, and saw concern in his eyes. He had begun to suspect something was wrong.
“You know,” he said, “if you had seen something, something you weren’t sure you could talk about, you could tell me. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Dad, I know.”
I hadn’t meant to use the word. It just popped out, but as soon as it did I could see that it meant something. His expression only changed a little, so little that someone else might have missed it, but it was enough. I smiled, and squeezed his hand.