Light Shaper (33 page)

Too late. Her eyes met his and she frowned. Thinking. Then suddenly she lifted her eyebrows and said, “Steve?”

“Um…,” Barrow stammered.

“Stevie!”

She launched herself at him, practically knocking Rigel aside, and Barrow had no choice but to catch her. Then she was kissing him hard on the mouth.

RIGEL WENT
into his hotel room and slammed the door behind him. It was pleasantly cool inside, but he barely registered the fact as he plopped down on the bed angrily, making the neatly folded towels that had been set there jump and fall off the side. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, thinking he should have probably considered bringing a change of clothes before rushing off out of his apartment forever in his crazy quest to awaken Atlas. Or at least an extra pair of socks.

He bunched up a couple of pillows and leaned back onto them, stretching his legs on the bed. Then he took off his braces from both hands, starting with the left. He noticed a slight dent in it from when he had deflected a blow earlier that day. It wasn’t badly damaged, though, and he took it off quickly and then the other one. Then he started rubbing his forearms, getting the circulation going where the metal clasps had left shallow marks on both his arms. It was a relief to have the things off him. As useful as they were, they had never been exactly comfortable, and they had taken a lot of getting used to. He would have to clean them later, if his hands stopped hurting long enough for him to do so. Which was not likely, not in this strange city within a city where he was currently trapped.

He rubbed his arms more vigorously, alternating hands, and he kept at it until a sharp jab of pain running up his right wrist reminded him he was using too much force. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm down.

It was stupid, really. He barely knew Steve. He had assumed things about him, and it had turned out not to be the case. Too bad. It would not be the first time it had happened to Rigel, and he had learned to accept what he could not change and move on.

Except he had started to feel something for Steve, a connection he had never felt before. Rigel had thought it went both ways, but, of course, he had been deluding himself. The voices in the next room were proof enough of that.

The woman named Zoe had assigned Steve and him adjoining rooms, but the walls were thin enough that Rigel could hear both Steve’s voice and hers. Not clearly enough to make out what they were saying, but he could hear the tone in the words. He heard Zoe’s excited nonstop monologue interrupted only occasionally by short answers from Steve. It went on long enough that Rigel got tired of pretending to massage his arms and instead went into the bathroom intending to take a shower.

He stripped and stepped into the tub, at the edge of which somebody had already left two shower tokens for his use. He took one and put it in the slot, activating the shower. A small light nearby turned green, and he was able to get hot water at once. Rigel hurried, since he didn’t know what the water allocation for this zone would be. He was still surprised that beneath the miserable exterior the slums presented there could be infrastructure like this, and he wondered if all shacks had an underground level or if it was only a few select buildings.

It was a good thing he hurried, because he was barely done rinsing off the last of the shower gel from his hair when the water stopped. He dried off and went back into his room, still feeling grumpy but a lot better now that he was clean. He had not had time for a proper shower since the morning before all of this chaos had started. Thinking back on that day, it seemed a little bit unreal somehow. And yet here he was, in a clandestine underground hotel next to a criminal market he hadn’t even known existed.

Without any money. Well, there was no helping it anymore. At least now they’d get what they needed to get to the Haven III site.

Rigel sat back down on the bed and yawned hugely. He hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep at all the previous night, and he was a little bit surprised he hadn’t felt tired before this. He had probably been running on adrenaline, but now it was gone, and Rigel wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for a very long time. He slipped under the covers, punched a pillow into shape, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep instantly.

Rigel woke up after what felt like much later, with no idea what time it was. He felt groggy and incredibly well rested, and for a few seconds did nothing more than lie on the bed, eyes closed, motionless. He opened his eyes slowly, but since his room was underground, there was no way of telling if it was day or night. He yawned and stretched, seriously considering going back to sleep, when a sound reached him from the other room.

It was something he had never heard before, the sound of Steve laughing. It was followed closely by the laughter of a woman, and Rigel knew who it had to be. Then there came the faint sound of their hushed voices, as if they were speaking under their breath. Zoe laughed again, shrilly, and then there was noise made by a mattress creaking. Several times.

Rigel turned the other way in the bed, pressed the pillow over his head to block out the noise, and determinedly went back to sleep.

This time he dreamed. He was back at the university, attending a 3-D Rendering class in one of the big lecture halls. Misha was there, but she was telling him he had to pick up his things because the classroom was on fire. He kept on shaking his head, telling her it wasn’t possible because Atlas was watching over them. When he next turned to look for Misha, both of Rigel’s parents were waiting for him, and they told him she had taken the first airship out of Aurora and was never coming back.

He started running away then, certain somebody was about to catch him, and just when he thought the dark alley he was running through was getting too narrow for him to fit, Steve was yelling for him, telling him to come to a safe spot. Rigel followed his voice unhesitatingly and suddenly found himself in the big garden of his parents’ home. There Rigel had spent most of his idle hours as a kid. He felt good in there, although he was all alone again. And then he looked at the sky and saw things falling. Enormous things, trailing infernal tails of fire and smoke.

Rigel woke up, opening his eyes in the darkness of his room. It was quiet, and this time Rigel was sure he had slept for several hours. He stood up slowly and went to the bathroom, checking the time on his way there. It was 9:13 a.m., which meant Rigel had spent the entire afternoon and all night sleeping. He had a slight headache, but the awful tiredness of the day before was gone.

Rigel freshened up and got dressed, taking his time. He was really hungry, but he wasn’t sure if Streaker’s arrangements for them included meals or if this place even served any food. When he was ready, he left his room and headed upstairs for the lobby intending to ask somebody where he could get something to eat. He didn’t find anybody there, but a little bit of exploration of the surface floor allowed him to discover the dining room, which was empty except for two people.

Rigel’s appetite fled, but they had already spotted him.

“Morning, Rigel!” Steve said, waving him over. “Come and have some breakfast!”

Rigel heard the brightness in his tone, so unlike his usual self. Rigel could guess why Steve was feeling so cheerful after last night, and the smile Rigel gave the pair as he approached was stiff and wooden.

“Good morning,” Rigel said, grabbing a seat. There was bread and a big bowl of dried fruit at the table, some cereal and yogurt. A jug of juice and a steaming pot of coffee completed the ensemble. In spite of himself, Rigel’s stomach gave a loud rumble at the sight of the food, which everyone heard.

Zoe laughed sweetly.

“I’m Zoe,” she introduced herself unnecessarily. “It’s nice to meet you, Rigel. Stevie told me all about you last night.”

Rigel flinched at the endearment term, and it might have been his imagination, but Steve appeared to react the same way.

“Nice to meet you,” Rigel said, meeting her eyes for the first time. She was pretty enough, with her olive skin and long black hair that fell neatly below her shoulders in what had to be ironed perfection. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she did not need it. At first Rigel had assumed she was in her early twenties because of her youthful appearance, but now that he was seeing her close up, he realized she was probably closer to Steve’s age than to his own. She looked fit, however. She obviously took good care of herself.

“Please, have anything you like,” she told him, gesturing at the food. “All your expenses were arranged and paid for last night. I know it might not be much compared to a proper city hotel, but I made sure to have as much variety as we could manage for breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”

“Um, yeah,” Rigel admitted, and Zoe poured him some before he could get it himself. “Thanks, Zoe.”

She smiled. “No problem. Go on, help yourself to whatever you like. If you take too much longer, Stevie will leave nothing for you!”

She had a point. Steve was scarfing down food as if he were on a timer, and Rigel’s stomach rumbled again. He grabbed some bread and yogurt and began eating too.

They said little while they were having breakfast, but both men were eating fast enough that most of the food was gone in less than fifteen minutes. Rigel had not realized how hungry he was until he had tasted the first mouthful, but afterward he grabbed fruit, cereal, and bread indiscriminately. When he finally felt satisfied, he sighed contentedly. It was good to be well fed, despite everything else going on. He also felt a little less short-tempered. Rigel poured himself the last of the juice and leaned back on his seat.

“That was great,” Steve said, wiping his mouth with a big hand. “Thanks, Zoe. Especially on getting the fruit. How did you manage it?”

Zoe shrugged. “Oh, I just had to call in a favor. This guy I know heard that a fruit shipment had come via airship yesterday, but they hadn’t delivered it yet. So I made sure to get some while it was still available.”

“Is it difficult to get fruit in here?” Rigel asked her.

She nodded. “Have you seen any fields out in these parts? The only way we can get fresh produce is through shipments, when airships dock nearby. Some of the people who are better connected also have contracts with the hydroponics district in the city, but it’s incredibly expensive. If you go to the fruits and vegetable section in the Night Market, you wouldn’t believe what they charge for an apple.”

“Wow,” Rigel said. “Thanks, then. You must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get all this.”

“It’s no big deal,” Zoe answered. “I also wanted to get some meat, maybe bacon or some sausages, but I had no luck. I hope it was enough, though? I know you must be accustomed to much better things, living in the city and all.”

“It was great,” Rigel assured her, wondering why she kept mentioning that they came from the city.

“I’m glad. We almost never get city visitors here, and it’s a wonderful change. Normally this hotel is for Corporation members only, and they are awful guests.”

“Corporation?” Rigel asked.

Zoe looked suddenly uncomfortable. Steve answered for her. “The people who control the Market. Very rich, even by Auroran standards. They own most of the underground constructions out here in the slums.”

“Anyway,” Zoe cut in. “I’m so glad to have interesting people to talk to. Steve told me you are an artist, Rigel?”

“Yeah,” Rigel admitted. “I went to arts school at the University of Aurora, almost majored in Fine Arts.”

“That sounds amazing!” Zoe told him. At first Rigel thought she was being sarcastic, but her tone was too sincere. “Did you paint? Or were you a sculptor or maybe one of those artists that do modern pieces, the kind you can interact with?”

“I did painting, mostly. I started out with portraits, but little by little I moved more into landscapes. Very realistic at the beginning, but then I found some archives on ancient Impressionist masters, and I loved their work. I admire Cézanne in particular. I like the edginess of his landscapes, the sharp contours and the earthy palette he normally used, not excessively bright but each piece with a harmony all its own. It’s amazing, the way he could portray the atmosphere in both little towns and in the wilderness when he would paint them. Somehow I find the paintings better than pictures of those same places much later.”

Zoe was nodding slightly, her complete attention on him. “I’ve thought…. Well, I don’t know this great artist you speak of, but once I managed to sneak into the Aurora Art Museum when they were having a free exhibition, and… I saw an entire room covered with paintings, more or less the same image but repeated at different times of the day and with different light. They were water lilies, all of them.”

“Monet,” Rigel said, remembering the exhibition. He had also visited it during his first semester at the university. The paintings were not originals, of course, but the reproductions had been made at an extremely high resolution and treated in Haven Prime to appear exactly as the true canvases would have looked. It remained one of the better temporary exhibitions hosted at the museum.

Zoe’s eyes lit up. “Monet!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten his name. I remember the paintings very well, though. I stayed in that room for a long time, just looking at them and imagining a world where one person could own a garden with a pond big enough to grow these water plants. I have never even seen a natural pond, or a lake, but looking at those paintings, I had an idea of how beautiful it would have been. It must have been a magical time, before all this. Water everywhere. Somehow, his paintings were like little windows into that world.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Rigel said, smiling. He was warming up to Zoe even though he didn’t want to. “When I could still paint, I would look at videos or images of the world as it was before and try to reproduce not only what I could see but what I imagined it must have felt to live then. It was hard, but I loved the challenge. Still do.”

“When you could still paint?” Zoe echoed, a look of concern in her eyes. “What do you mean? You can’t do it anymore?”