Gifted (20 page)

“No!” I shout. “No, no, no!”

But the drummer is off his stool in a flash yelling, “Raid! Raid!”

The crowd moves backward as if an undertow is pulling them from the room. Then an older guy with long dreadlocks jumps up on stage just as Zimri and the drummer scramble behind the canvas curtain. “That's it!” the older guy shouts, waving his arms. “Show's over. Everybody out!”

I'm pulled along with the deluge of black-masked people pushing through the door. I try to push back through the tide to reach Zimri and tell her how sorry I am. Confess everything. Tell her I'll do anything to help her. But by the time I make it back to Nowhere, the door is closed and locked tight. I bang and bang, but no one answers. All around me, people scramble up the hill and run away. I search for another entrance, but the place is like a fortress. Finally after ten minutes, I give up, assuming Zimri made it out. I slink back to my Cicada, sick over what I've done.

 

ZIMRI

Dorian sits beside
me on the edge of the stage with his arm around my shoulders. I can't stop shaking.

“What was that guy from the warehouse doing here?” He spits the words. “He's the one who said he heard us on the waves, right? No mask on his dumb face. Yelling your name. Was he trying to get us all arrested?”

“I don't know.” I bury my face in my hands. When I saw Aimery at the edge of the stage, I was sure he was there to bust us. That I'd been duped and he'd been a spy all along, only not for Corp X but for Smythe and Beauregarde and whoever hired them. But then, after Marley pulled the plug and everybody left, nothing happened. We hid in back behind the secret panels for fifteen minutes, but no security ever came.

“I can't believe you would put yourself at risk like this!” Marley shouts as he paces in front of us. “And not just you! Everybody who was here tonight could have been arrested. Is this a camera?” He holds Tati's latest invention in his clenched fist. “Are you kidding me? Did you record it? Are you planning to distribute it? Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in? How could you be so reckless?”

“Please don't be mad at Dorian,” I say. “He tried to stop me but I insisted on playing tonight. I told him I would do it alone, but he wouldn't let me. He was trying to be a good friend.”

“You lied,” Marley shouts, uninterested in my explanation. “Both of you. To our faces. Nonda asked you and you said—”

“But we were doing it for Nonda,” Dorian argues.

“Doesn't matter why you think you're doing it!” Marley yells.

“It's all my fault,” I say. “I needed money to keep Nonda at the MediPlex so they could run more tests.”

Marley stops, hands on hips and looks sharply at me. “Is that true?”

I nod.

He looks up at the ceiling. “Why didn't you come to me if you needed money?”

“No offense,” I say, “but why would you have that much money? Why would any of us have that much? And then I'd owe you money that I'd never be able to repay. That's the whole problem. No one person has more than enough to just get by. That's why we do these shows, so that everybody can pitch in what little extra they have to truly help one another.”

Marley's face screws up. “Who else have you raised money for?” he asks, clearly skeptical.

“Levon when his son Luka got hit by a Plute car and the justice brokers claimed it was the kid's fault for riding on a private road. Captain Jack when he lost his arm in the box smasher at the warehouse and the justice brokers decided he had to pay for the broken machinery. Billie Jean when her newborn, that sweet baby James, was in the MediPlex for two months because the RoboNurse went haywire and nearly suffocated him, which Corp X called an act of god—as if Robots answer to a higher power than their CPUs. There's more if you want to know.”

Marley sighs and comes to sit beside us. “I didn't know that's what you'd been doing.”

I lean away from him. “What else would we be doing?”

“I don't know. Sticking it to the man? Making money off of music? Showing the world that art isn't a commodity to be controlled by the rich?”

“All that sounds nice, but mostly it's just because the justice brokers and Arbiters always screw the Plebes, so somebody has to help.”

“And what about this?” He shakes the camera glove at me.

I grimace. “Yeah, that … Well, that was a terrible idea.”

“Did it go out?” Dorian asks. He looks a little sick to his stomach.

“Go out?” Marley asks.

I cringe and shrink back. “Last time, we accidentally hijacked a LiveStream,” I tell him meekly and Marley groans. “We didn't mean to. And the video feed might not have gone out at all tonight. We'll just have to wait and see.”

“But if it did go out…” Dorian says.

The image of Aimery shouting my name floats up in my mind and my stomach turns over. How long will I be able to deny that it was me? Could I claim a case of mistaken identity? I turn to Dorian and put my hand on his leg. “Even if it got out and they come for me, you know I'd never, ever, not in a million years tell them it was you on stage.” I cut my eyes toward Marley, but he won't meet my gaze. “I'll take the blame and the full brunt of whatever they want to do—”

“Stop.” Dorian lays his hand on top of mine. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” He doesn't sound half as confident as he's trying to look. “It probably didn't even go out. Or if it did the room was so loud and…” He trails off. I can tell that he's nervous by the way he keeps glancing at the door, as if he's expecting Medgers and ten private security guards to bust in at any minute.

Marley lies back on the stage with one arm slung over his eyes; he can't bear to look at us anymore. “God, the world's gotten messed up, hasn't it?” he moans. “All these years I kept thinking things would go back to normal. I thought someday, someone would come along and take that guy Chanson down a few pegs.” He laughs but it sounds sad. “Calliope's trying, but she won't get very far. She underestimates the greed in the world. How much money feeds the beast. And the bigger it gets, the more money it takes to keep it going. It's vicious. Every year the whole situation gets worse and worse.” Then he laughs. Then he groans again. “Ah, well, you can't relive your past.”

Dorian and I look at each other, wondering whether his dad is losing it, until Marley sits up and says, “Look, it's great that you've been using these shows to help other people, but it's also dumb and risky and in the end, you'll be the ones to get hurt. So…” He gets to his feet. “I should have done this a long time ago. I'm shutting this place down. Getting rid of the gear. Boarding up the door.” He levels his gaze at me. “Like I should have done five years ago.”

“This place isn't
yours
to shut down,” I tell him.

He stands up taller so he's looking down on me. “I'm the one who built it!”

I get to my feet and stand nearly eye to eye with him. “With my mother.”

“Fat lot of good it did her, too! This place ruined her and ruined your childhood. Someone has to be the grown-up here and stop you from ruining the rest of your life, too!”

“Nowhere didn't ruin my life,” I say.

“This is the reason your mother got caught and then your father…” Marley trails off.

I've had so many questions about my mother all these years but as I get older, one thing seems more and more clear to me. “Come on, Marley,” I say. “The trouble she got in was just an excuse for her to leave, but we both know it wasn't the real reason she took off.”

Marley looks stunned.

“It couldn't have been easy with my father. He was sick. Unstable. And they both had to work jobs they hated. And then to be told, on top of that, you can't do the one thing in life that makes you the happiest. Making music? She said it herself. If she'd accepted the ruling after you guys got caught, she would have been trading one prison for another. Of course I wish she'd never left, but at least I hope she's somewhere she can make music when she wants.”

Marley puts his hands on his hips and looks at the floor as if he's trying to gather himself. “She loved you, Zim.” He peers up at me. “She loved you very much.”

“Not more than she loved making music,” I say.

Marley looks defeated. “Rainey was flawed. We all are.”

“Stop,” I tell him. “I don't blame her. I might have done the same thing in her shoes.”

“No,” Marley says. “Rainey was selfish about her art. She did it for herself no matter what the cost. But you…” He looks around Nowhere as if he's sad to let it go. “You're different, Zimri. You did this for other people. You used your art for good. I'm just sorry that we live in a world where that's not valued anymore.”

My HandHeld beeps. 8:45. “Oh crap, I have to go!” I say. “If I'm not at the MediPlex by nine…”

“Want me to go with you?” Dorian asks.

“We shouldn't be seen together. It's too dangerous right now,” I tell him. “You should go home. Both of you. Make up an alibi. Say you were together all night at home. I'll go to the MediPlex and then back to my POD. I'll ping you if anything goes down.”

Marley nods and puts his hand on Dorian's shoulder. “She's right.”

I gather the money from the box.

“Is there enough?” Dorian asks.

“Plenty,” I say, teary with gratitude.

*   *   *

I ride my red bike as fast as I can and arrive at the MediPlex with five minutes to spare. At the elevator bank, I push all the buttons, then decide there's no time to wait. I'm worried the Robos have already gotten Nonda out of bed and are shuffling her out the door. What if they put her in the elevator and she's on her way down while I'm going up? So I take the stairs two at a time, clicking off floors, hoping that they'll wait a few more minutes. When I get to the third floor, I zoom around the corner and sprint to her room, yelling, “I'm here! I'm here,” while waving the stack of cash over my head. I see Robo wheels beneath the edge of curtain seven.

“Wait!” I yell and rip the curtain aside then hang on to it, panting, “I. Can. Pay.” My eyes go straight to the empty bed where the Robo is changing sheets. “No!” I yell. “Where's my Nonda?”

The RoboNurse's head unit spins toward me. “Visiting hours are over in … three minutes.”

I grab for the Robo but it quickly wheels away from me. I chase after it. “Stop. Where's my grandmother?” My voice cracks. “It's not nine o'clock yet! I can pay her bill. She can stay.” I shove the money toward the robot but of course it doesn't care. “Where is Layla Robinson?” I demand.

“Mrs. Layla Robinson…” it says and pauses. “Has been moved to … the geriatric memory unit on floor five, room six, bed number … two. Her discharge date is … one week from today.”

“What?” I gasp as if the wind has been knocked out of me. “You must be wrong. I didn't pay yet.”

The Robo's digital eyes blink at me.

“Oh my god, I need to speak to a human!”

“Would you like to speak with a human?” it asks.

“Yes, please!” I whine. “Dr. Garcia? Is she available?”

“One moment.” Its face screen blanks out for a few seconds. I try to catch my breath, calm down, and not cry. The money is sweaty in my grip.

Then Dr. Garcia's face is on the screen. “Can I help you?” she says.

“I can't find my grandmother,” I blurt out.

“Oh, it's you!” she says happily. “Your grandmother is doing great.”

“But she's not here.”

Dr. Garcia cocks her head to the side. “Yes, she is. I moved her to the geriatric unit after her mammogram and set up a consult with the gerontologist for tomorrow.”

“But how? I haven't paid her bill yet.”

Dr. Garcia looks at her screen, perplexed, but then she smiles again. “Yes, you did,” she says with a little laugh. “Yesterday. Or someone did.” She splits the screen on the Robo's face so I can see the info, too.

“But wait … I didn't … Who?” I step closer. “What's this?” I jabbed my finger on the Payment Received link from yesterday, which opened up the transaction. Sure enough, someone's transferred funds into her account.

“There's been a mistake,” I tell Dr. Garcia. “This payment wasn't from me. It must be for another patient.”

Dr. Garcia shrugs. “Consider it a grace period, then. Billing will work it out. In the meantime, your grandmother is okay, Zimri. She'll be here at least another week while we run more tests and try out some new meds. I'm hoping to enroll her in a trial for a drug that I think will help tremendously.”

“Can I see her?” I ask.

“Visiting hours are now over,” the RoboNurse says. “Please proceed to the exit.”

“Tomorrow,” Dr. Garcia tells me. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I say, confused, but I turn to go. Then I stop and look over my shoulder again. “Thank you,” I call to Dr. Garcia. “Thank you for taking care of my grandmother.”

“Of course!” she says. “Us Nobodies have to stick together.”

*   *   *

I leave the MediPlex and ride along the river path, trying to puzzle through how someone else has paid my grandmother's bill. All I can figure is, the bills must have gotten crossed and soon enough the system will figure out the error. I hope some other old woman isn't out on her ear tonight. In the meantime, I'll put the cash from Nowhere someplace safe until I have to pay up.

When I approach the bend in the river where Nowhere is nestled under the embankment, I speed up. Stomach acid creeps up into my mouth because I suspect Medgers is on patrol, ready to nab anyone stupid enough to still be nearby, but everything is as calm and quiet as when I left half an hour ago. I let out a long sigh and look up into the night sky. The clouds from earlier have begun to move off and the stars are peeking out. It's been the strangest night of my life. Both good and bad, happy and sad. But mostly, utterly exhausting. Somewhere up the river, a whippoorwill cries its name over and over into the night. I join in its sad song, making up lyrics as I go.