No one lived down here.
That was what the young cop thought.
Then he saw the figures, almost human, clothed in rags and skins, climbing up and around, slipping and sliding over and between the enormous piles of rotting garbage.
He shuddered.
“Look at this!” he said to his partner. “The garbage collectors go out, or what?”
“Yeah,” said the older cop, sarcastically. “They been out a week already.”
It was of course a joke. The garbage collectors had been out for a generation, ever since the city had discovered it was cheaper to let the trash build up than haul it to a landfill.
Since the city soared upward faster than the trash, it created no problem for those living in the upper levers.
And the trash was handy as a dwelling and scavenging place for the drop-outs—literally— those who couldn’t afford to soar upward with the city.
It was retropostneodarwinism in action, and though it made perfect economic sense, the young cop found it, well—
Disgusting.
The piles seemed to sigh, emitting clouds of steaming stink. But where was the fugitive cabbie?
He was supposed to be trapped in this dead-end alcove. But there was nothing here but a vertical billboard, advertising a long-forgotten company called “IBM.”
The young cop scanned the billboard, which was fifty feet high but only ten wide, not nearly wide enough to hide a cab.
“Where’d he go?” he asked his partner.
The older cop motioned down, toward the midden.
“Down, I guess,” he said. “Must have lost his gyros. Not our job to sift through that crap for bodies. Let’s go get another burger.”
Korben was looking up, even as the cops were looking down.
His cab was behind the sign, hovering on its tail—another old fighter pilot trick. It was expensive in electrics, but effective.
Uncomfortable, too. The girl and Korben were jammed together in the front seat.
Well, not exactly uncomfortable. The girl had a nice warm smell that overcame the garbage.
“We’ll wait here till things calm down a bit,” Korben whispered. “You mind?”
The girl grabbed his shirt collar and whispered in his ear. “Priest…”
Korben studied her. She seemed weak. Her green eyes were almost closed.
“Priest…” she said again.
“You’re not that bad!” Korben said. “Come on, we’ll get you to a doctor.”
“Vee-toe,” said the girl. “Cor-knee-lee-us.”
It sounded almost like a name. “Vito Cornelius?”
The girl nodded.
Then fainted.
12
“YES?”
The door was opened by an old man, small, with a face as round as a one-franc piece, and a shock of white hair.
His visitor was a strong, scarred man short on hair but long on nervousness.
In his arms was a girl. She appeared to be sleeping.
“Excuse me,” Korben said, “I’m looking for a priest.”
“Weddings are one floor down, my son,” said the priest. “And congratulations.”
He closed the door.
It opened again—kicked in.
“She’s not my bride,” said Korben. “She’s my fare. She’s looking for a Vito Cornelius. According to the phone guide he lives here.”
“That’s me,” said the priest, buckling his robe more tightly around him as he stared at the two intruders. “But I don’t know who she is.”
The girl was wearing a bright, revealing jumpsuit and her shoulder-length hair was fiery red.
The priest regarded her suspiciously. “Where did you find her?”
“She… dropped in on me,” Korben said.
He held the girl out toward the priest and her arm dropped to one side. There was a tattoo on her wrist.
Four elements connected by lines.
When the priest saw it, the color drained from his face.
He looked down at the scarred and scratched symbol of the four elements on his antique brass belt buckle. It matched her tattoo exactly.
“The Fifth Element!,” he breathed, and sank to the floor; unconscious.
Korben stepped all the way into the apartment, letting the door slide shut behind him.
“Finger’s going to kill me!” he muttered, looking for a place to set down the girl.
SLAP. Cornelius awoke.
He was staring into a battered but kindly, tough but intelligent mug.
“Who are you?”
“I brought the girl, remember?”
Cornelius sat up. “Girl?”
Then he remembered. The Fifth Element.
“Yeah!” Korben was saying. “She dropped in
on me. I mean, on my taxi. Talking this bizarre language.”
Cornelius shook his head, so slowly that it seemed almost a new style of prayer.
“Not bizarre. The divine language. The most ancient language. Spoken through the Universe before time was Time. The Fifth Element, the Supreme…” Cornelius looked at the girl who lay stretched out on the couch, her red hair gleaming, and suddenly it dawned on him:
“He’s—a she!”
“You noticed,” said Korben.
His sarcasm was lost on the priest, who was all but kneeling before the sleeping girl. “It’s a miracle! There’s not a moment to lose! Wake her up, but be gentle about it! This woman is mankind’s most precious possession!”
“She is?”
“She is—perfect!”
And Cornelius ran out of the room.
Korben knelt by the girl’s side.
He raised an arm to slap her awake, then changed his mind.
He lowered the hand slowly. With his fingertips, he touched her cheek.
Her skin was as soft and fragile as the petal of a rose. It was hard to believe she had fallen through the roof of his cab, almost unharmed.
“Perfect,” Korben whispered.
“It’s a miracle!”
The novice, David, looked up from the cassock he was mending with his favorite ancient device, a needle and thread.
Father Cornelius had just burst into the room, out of breath and red-faced.
“Miracle?” David asked. “Where?”
Father Cornelius opened the closet door
“I can’t wear these clothes,” he said. “This calls for dignity!”
The closet was hung with cassocks. They were all identical to the one David was mending; identical, in fact, to the one Father Cornelius was wearing.
“I have to dress the part!” cried Cornelius, disappearing into the closet as David looked on, shaking his head in wonder.
The girl wouldn’t wake up.
Korben touched her cheek, then her other cheek.
Suddenly, on an impulse that surprised even him, he bent down and kissed her gently on the lips.
That worked.
Her eyes snapped open.
Korben felt something cold, and sat up suddenly.
It was his own gun jammed under his chin.
The girl had pulled it from his shoulder holster in a single swift movement.
“Eto aktagamat!”
“I’m sorry,” said Korben. “It’s just that…” Just that what? her eyes seemed to ask Embarrassed, Korben stumbled on. He wasn’t particularly good with girls (although they usually didn’t seem to notice). “I was told to wake you up gently, so I figured…”
The girl looked puzzled. She lowered the gun.
“You’re right,” said Korben. “I’m wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Especially since we haven’t been formally introduced, and…”
He fumbled in the pockets of his vest and pulled out a cheap, blinking plastic business card.
“Here. It’s a bit late, but my name is Korben. Korben Dallas. I’m a cab driver. Call me any time. You don’t need to jump off a building to catch a cab, you know. Just call…”
The girl hesitated for a moment, then snatched the card out of his hand.
With an unexpected smile.