The Settlers (25 page)

Why?
 

Because now I know that there are limits to how far you'll go to see me happy, Micah.
Once you know that, you can't really go back on it.

That's such a harsh way to put it.

But it's true, Micah.
It isn't a lie.
It might suck to hear, but it's the truth.

Why are you in Tokyo?
 

It's alright.
You can change the subject.

Thanks.
Why are you in Tokyo?
 

I just am.

With somebody?

Of course not.

Because I kind of get the feeling that when you come back, everything ends.
And if I have that feeling, maybe you already have that feeling, too.
And maybe you figure there's no reason not to act on that feeling.
 

Do you realize how much we fight now?
Do you think I want to come back to that?
 

Are you seeing somebody?

Oh, fuck you, Micah.
Go back to bed.

Bob, where do I go if I want to work?

You are not required to work, sir.
 

Yes, I know that.
But surely there are Onyx-class people who do.
 

Onyx-class citizens create their own jobs.
 

What if the job I want is not predicting social change, or writing a novel?
What if I just want to push a button two thousand times a day?
Or carry food to people?
What if I want to run a machine press?
 

Bob says, You will not be permitted to have any of those jobs.
Those jobs are reserved for Machine-class citizens.
 

Okay, what if I want to be a Machine-class citizen?
Micah asks.

You can't switch your class, unfortunately, Bob answers.
 

No?
What about Machine-class people?
Can they ever become Onyx-class citizens?
 

Bob pauses.
There are certain exceptions to the standard rule that allow for that possibility.
 

Oh?
And what are these exceptions?
 

If you were to wed a Machine-class citizen, they would inherit your status as your partner, and retain your status after your death, Bob says.
 

That's interesting.
I'm surprised that would be allowed.
 

Marriage of a Machine-class citizen is only permitted if the Machine-class citizen is female and expecting the child of an Onyx-class citizen, Bob clarifies.
 

Micah shrugs into his jacket.
That's perverse, he says.

Intimate relationships between Onyx-class and Machine-class citizens require approval from Station Administration.
 

Micah gapes.
The government permits or denies -- what the --

As I mentioned before, sir, Bob says, the Onyx program is a social experiment.
 

Are all twelve stations structured this way?
 

The Onyx program is still in its pilot phase, Bob says.
Station Argus is its proving ground.
 

So if there were, say, a Machine-class riot that overthrew the Onyx-class rule, this insane system wouldn't be adopted for the other eleven stations?
 

I suppose that's accurate, Bob says.
 

Huh, Micah says.
 

Bob says, There are protections in place to prevent such an uprising.

I'm sure.
Bob, Micah says, tell me where I can get some food.

Micah leaves the apartment and rides the lift tube to the top of the petal, four hundred fifteen floors above his own.
The tube is transparent and runs along a central rail of the inner petal, providing a breathtaking view of Station Argus, fully unfolded.
He is transfixed by the city below, more vast than any he has ever seen.
Its towers and curving transport lines turn golden in the sun's glare.
From so high, the travel pods look like dewdrops on the tendril of a plant.

Micah had watched an animation on Earth that demonstrated the station's flower-like properties.
The station had no stem, but its central city was flanked by ten massive petals shaped like sails.
The city itself was constructed on an immense retractable platform.
On days of particularly disruptive or dangerous solar flares, or if a stray asteroid ventured too close, the giant city would retract deep into the belly of the station, and the ten petals would turn and fold inward, locking together to transform Station Argus into a floating canister.
Completely sealed, the station was as impenetrable as an oyster.

He shakes his head.
If he'd known about the class system --
 

Would he still have come?
 

How else would he have honored Mae's memory?
 

Maybe another station.

But he knows that Argus is the only station currently accepting new settlers.
It is the newest of the fleet, and has not yet reached its population control level.
 

All he had wanted was to carve out a small life, one as small as his had been on Earth, and to wake up each morning to watch the sunrise, and to have a cup of coffee and remember his wife.
This new reality seems contrary to his simple goal.
After just one brief conversation with Bob, Micah feels like a conspirator on the wrong side of a great and inhumane battle.

The lift carries him to the top of the petal -- at least as high as residents are permitted to visit.
The observation deck -- and to his horror, restaurant and nightclub -- are still several hundred feet from the top of the tower.
 

A woman in a crisp dark suit meets him as he exits the lift.
 

Good day, sir, she says.

Hi, he says.
 

Seating for one?
she asks.
 

Um, Micah says.
Actually, I was just hoping to take a look from the top.
If I can do that.
 

Of course, the woman says.
You're free to move about as you choose, of course.

He nods at her as he passes, wondering if she's Machine-class.
He can't imagine that the station permits Onyx-class citizens to work in the food service industry, so she must be.
Is she married?
Is she hoping this year for a child?
What sort of work does her husband do?
 

Is she happy?

Micah glances back at her.
She has moved back to a small, transparent podium, and is standing quite still, watching the lift indicators closely.
 

He feels for her.
What a life.

Get it together
, he thinks.
You're projecting your own feelings onto her right now.
She's probably perfectly happy.
She gets to live in space!
No glow-in-the-dark stars pasted to the ceiling of her bedroom at night -- she gets the real thing!
Where do you get off?
 

The hostess turns then and smiles at him.

Get moving, Micah
.

He does.

The observation platform is glorious, and terrifying.
Micah is not the only person here.
Several other people have already braved their fears and were floating above the city.
Some are nearby, ready to return to the tower quickly if needed.
Others, perhaps more daring, are quite distant and small.
 

Behind him is an alcove in the outer wall of the tower.
This closet is filled with personal body jets, and Micah watches as a young man helps another into the suit.
In fact,
suit
is the last word for the body jets.
Rather, the attire is a simple exoskeleton that the wearer fits over his arms, legs, shoulders and spine.
At pivot points, tiny attitude jets jut from the frame.
 

Excuse me, says the young man.

Micah steps back and watches as the man and his friend venture to the red line.
An imprint on the floor reads:

PERSONAL GRAVITY DISABLED PAST THIS POINT

DO NOT PROCEED WITHOUT BODY JET OR TETHER

The two men walk to the red line.
 

Ready?
the first man says.

The second man looks dubious, but he nods.
 

It's easy, says the first, stepping over the line.
 

As soon as he crosses the line, his body stops being defined by his feet.
He becomes lighter, and drifts very slowly upward, following the momentum of his final footsteps.
He moves his hands a bit, and Micah sees the tiny jets fire imperceptibly from his shoulders, bringing him to an almost certain halt.

The second man joins him, and after a few moments of reorienting himself, the two fire their bodyjets and sail out over the city.
Micah watches them with a sense of wonder.
From there, they must be able to see everything.
Argus City's tallest spires are not so far below.
Maybe they can even see people in the buildings.