Kingdom of Cages (31 page)

Time stretched out. She watched the minutes click over on the glowing clock set into the wall by the curtained threshold.
Sleep did not come. Instead she thought about how she would never see Sadia again, how she would never see Farin again. Tears
stung her eyes. She’d never know now what he really thought about her. Never see him smile at her again, never have him touch
her. She was completely alone in the sterile silence, with who knew what going on, on the other side of all the twisting walls.

She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and looked at the curtain.

Don’t,
she told herself.
You’ll get in trouble, and who knows what they can do to you now that you’re all in here.

Too late, though. She couldn’t just lie there. She had to get out. She had to see what was really going on out there. She
had to know. After all, when she’d snuck out that first morning in the dorm, she’d met Nan Elle, and Nan Elle had helped her,
and promised she’d help more. Which was more than anybody else had done.

Chena threw back the covers and planted her bare feet on the warm, soft floor. She slid past the privacy curtain and out into
the winding corridors.

The green curtains, turned gray by the dim light, billowed gently around her, blown by the silent soft ventilator breeze.
The video images covering the walls had been shut off for the night, and Chena saw the faint ghosts of her own reflections
keeping pace with her on either side. She bit her lip nervously. It made her feel watched.

But it was either put up with it or go back to her alcove (she couldn’t really call the thing a room) and hide under the covers.
So Chena made the piss-off sign at the reflections, which made it right back at her, and she kept on going.

After about the fifth turn, Chena suddenly realized she had no idea where she was. Not only were the wall videos switched
off, the signs that had directed them on the day’s tour were gone too. The corridor walls were completely featureless except
for the curtains and her reflections. She didn’t know where she was, and she had no idea how to get back. Chena leaned her
hand against the smooth hard wall and cursed herself, using every hard word she knew.

You just can’t stop being stupid, can you? No matter how much trouble you’re going to get in, you just can’t stop.

After a while, she decided she couldn’t just be found huddled in the corridor in the morning when the lights and signs came
back on. She had to do something. She looked at the three branches of corridor that opened out around her. They all looked
the same.

Keep bearing right,
she advised herself.
You’ll have to get to the outside wall sooner or later. You can follow that back to the start.
She checked her wrist automatically, before remembering they had taken her comptroller away. She couldn’t even tell how long
she’d been here.

Long meters of corridors and curtains passed her by. Chena had to work to keep herself from running. She shouldn’t be afraid.
This place should be more familiar than the forest had been. She’d grown up in closed hallways, hadn’t she?

But these are nothing like the station corridors. Those weren’t creeps-breeders, ones that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t
give you anything to do.…

She took the right-hand fork at every branching, more branches than she could keep count of.

How many people live here? There weren’t that many kids in the playrooms, but there’s got to be space here for thousands.…

An idea struck her. Chena stopped outside one of the curtains and listened hard, for anything—breathing, sighing, a rustle
of cloth. This place might be silent, but there was no way the people in it could be.

Nothing. Chena pulled together her courage and reached out for the curtain. She touched the edge. Nothing happened. She hooked
her fingers around the heavy cloth. Nothing happened then either. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she leaned close to
the curtain’s edge and peeked past it.

On the other side waited an alcove identical to the one she’d snuck out of. The thin strip of night-lighting around the floorboards
showed her it was completely empty, with a neatly made-up bed waiting for… whomever.

Maybe I can sleep here and sneak back when the lights come back on. I can’t really have gotten that far. It just feels that
way.

It would be better than just wandering around the corridors anyway. Chena slipped through the curtain opening.

“You don’t belong here, Chena Trust.”

Chena jumped, stuffing her fist into her mouth to stop her scream. Her heart beat frantically, until she felt like it would
explode.

There was no one else in the room. She was alone. No shadow moved outside the curtain. Chena lowered her hand.

“Excuse me,” she said, her eyes flicking every which way, looking for the speaker grill, or intercom, or anything. “I didn’t
know.”

“You did, but you ignored it.” The voice might have belonged to a young man or a middle-aged woman. It was soft, smooth, and
perfect, and a little sad. It sounded like it was coming out of the air by Chena’s right ear.

“Who are you?”

“I am the Alpha Complex,” replied the voice. “You have come to live in me, and I’m rather sorry you don’t like it.”

Okay, okay.
Chena rubbed her hand against her thigh, rubbing off the spit and the sudden sweat.
It’s just a computer. Nothing to get excited about. It’s not like you haven’t talked to a machine before.

“I need directions to the foyer,” said Chena. “Respond.”

“No,” answered the Alpha Complex. “You need to return to your bedroom.”

“I need directions to the foyer,” Chena repeated, clenching one fist. “You will respond.”

“No.” The complex’s voice remained unperturbed. “It is not time for you to be there yet.”

Chena’s gaze swept the room. If there was a control pad somewhere, she couldn’t see it. That left her with no way to force
this machine to give her what she needed.

“Why didn’t you say something when I went out?” she demanded irritably. “You could have saved us both the trouble.”

“I wanted to see what you would do.” The complex sounded marginally more cheerful, even a little pleased with itself. “If
you had turned back at any time, you would have found the signs on at half power.”

“So, you let me get lost.” Chena tried to put some heat into her voice. Right now she just felt cold. She did not like this
thing. It wasn’t acting like an artificial intelligence, even a gatekeeper. It was acting like… like… a cross between Teal
and Experimenter Basante.

“I let you reach your limits,” answered the complex. “I would not have let you distress yourself unduly, don’t worry.”

That wasn’t one of the things I was worrying about, trust me,
thought Chena sourly. “So, you’ll let me go back now?”

“Of course.” The curtain whisked silently aside. Chena swallowed again. She hadn’t realized this… AI, or whatever it was,
could work the curtains. “Follow the signs. They will take you straight back to bed.”

Out in the corridor, exactly at her eye-level glowed the amber words
CHENA’S BEDROOM
, along with an arrow pointing to her left. She looked to her right. In that direction, the corridor had been completely blanked
out. Not even the night-lights cut the darkness. Chena felt resentment, fear, and rebellion stiffen her back.

“Don’t worry, Chena Trust,” said the complex. In front of Chena, her reflection shifted, becoming another girl about her own
age, but taller, broader, with bouncy chestnut hair and dusky skin. “My people and I will take good care of you. You just
need to let yourself get used to us.”

Chena looked away as fast as she could. She started running in the direction the arrow pointed. The corridors lit up for her,
with helpful arrows and signs, and within minutes a green curtain drew back and she tumbled into her sleeping alcove. She
dove under the blankets and drew them all the way over her head, curling up into a tight ball. She shivered and prayed that
under here, at least, the thing, the complex, couldn’t see her, wouldn’t speak to her, wouldn’t read her mind. She wished
desperately she was back in the trees with the flowers and the bats, even the ants. She wished she was back on the station
with the whirs and clicks and stinking corridors and Eng and King and their stupid games, or away out on some strange world
with her father. She wished she was anywhere, anywhere at all but here, where the walls were watching her, and smirking about
it.

It took a while, but eventually the startled fear gave way to anger, and Chena was able to unroll herself, although she did
not stick her head out of the blankets.

I need to let myself get used to it, do I?
She clenched her teeth, her fists, and every muscle in her body.
That is not happening. I’ll find a way around you if it takes me ten years. I promise you I will.

Morning came all at once. Warm light touched Chena’s face, turning the darkness behind her eyelids red. She blinked and sat
up. The blank night world was gone, replaced by a grove of trees that looked like they had been taken straight out of the
forest around Offshoot.

“I’ll pick my own walls, thank you,” muttered Chena as she kicked the covers back.

The trees faded away, leaving behind blue screen and touch pad area. Chena scowled and ignored them. She pulled her curtain
back, stumbling into the dark common area. She blinked and knuckled her eyes. It was still night out here, as well as behind
Mom’s and Teal’s curtains.

The stupid complex had woken her up early.

“Next time I’ll wake your sister up first,” said the complex’s voice. “You need to take turns using the washroom anyway.”

“What the piss kind of computer are you?” demanded Chena in a hoarse whisper.

“My own kind,” replied the complex. “How hot do you like your shower?”

“Leave me alone!” snapped Chena. “Or do you like ogling little girls in the shower?”

This time there was no answer. Chena stormed into the shower, wishing there was a door or even a drawer to slam. But there
was nothing. She thumped her fist against the wall but it produced nothing except a muffled thud, and it hurt.

The shower was frustratingly comfortable, the towel was thick, and the clothes in the drawer were brainless-looking—just a
green shirt and black pants, but they were clean and more comfortable than anything she’d worn since they’d gotten to Pandora.

All of which just made her more angry.

She stomped out of the bathroom just as Mom was coming out of her sleeping alcove.

“I hate it here!” Chena announced.

Mom blinked at her. “This is not news, I’m afraid, Supernova. What do you hate?”

“Everything!”

A chime sounded outside the curtain that opened onto the corridor. Mom smoothed her nightshirt down and went to open the curtain.
Chena followed, trying to make her pay attention. “There’s this computer, it runs the whole place and it spies on everything,
I swear Mom, it’s not safe. It’s probably—”

Mom drew the curtain back. On the other side stood a smiling woman. Her skin was pale, but her hair was coal black and bundled
into a knot at the back of her neck. She wore a loose white tunic and a black skirt that reached down to her ankles.

“Good morning, Mother Trust,” she said, saluting. “I’m Abdei and I’ll be one of your daughters’ teachers. I’m here to take
Chena to her testing appointments.”

“Oh.” Mom returned the salute a little uncertainly, glancing down at Chena, already washed and dressed.

“Mom,” said Chena urgently. “I told you—”

“Chena,” she said sharply. But then she turned to Abdei. “I’m sorry. It’s still a little early and I was hoping the girls
and I could have breakfast together before they started school.”

Abdei’s smile broadened. “I understand, but we do need to get started. I’ll have her back by lunch.”

Mom hesitated and Chena bit her lip. For a moment she thought Mom was going to refuse, but she didn’t. She just said, “All
right. It’ll be lunch, then.” She gave Chena a quick, one-armed hug. “Behave yourself for me, all right, Supernova?”

“Yeah,” said Chena sullenly. She didn’t want to be angry at Mom. Mom was as much a prisoner as she was. But why wouldn’t Mom
listen? Did she not want to hear how bad it was?

Abdei turned her smile onto Chena and gestured toward the corridor.
Another Madra, always smiling and always telling you what to do.
Chena kept her face closed and fell into step beside her, watching the walls and curtains, and saying nothing at all. All
signs were back on. This morning the corridor landscape was images of beaches and oceans. Maybe she could count the turnings.
Maybe after a little while she could learn her way without the signs.

Abdei walked beside her in silence for a moment. Chena didn’t look at her. Then she said, “I understand you met Aleph last
night.”

Chena didn’t let herself look up. “Aleph?”

“Our city’s mind,” Abdei told her. “The complex’s artificial intelligence, if you like.”

“Oh, great,” said Chena, still keeping her eyes straight ahead of her. “It’s not just a spy, it’s a mouth.”

She expected Abdei to get mad, but Abdei just chuckled. “Yes, well…”

“It’s for my own good?” inquired Chena.

“No. It’s for ours.”

They stood in front of the foyer door. It hadn’t even taken five minutes to get there, Chena was sure. How had she gotten
so lost? Was this place really that big?

Or had some of the walls she’d thought she’d seen last night been simulations? Chena frowned back at the dorm.

“
Your
own good?” she asked.

“Yes.” Abdei pressed on the door handle. It opened easily for her. She stood back to let Chena walk through into the real
sunlight of the atrium. “When we let new people in, we know they’re nervous. Nervous people can make mistakes, get into places
that are dangerous, or they can just get confused and lonely. Maybe they made a tough decision before coming here and think
they might regret it. We can’t be there to help out everybody, especially now that we’re taking in so many new people. So,
Aleph is there for you, and for us.”