crowd of them went at him with kitchen knives and meat cleavers. There was a power failure, but they were all so drunk they didn’t even notice. Do you remember all the blackouts we had last February? His rebuild program couldn’t connect with the server for repair instructions. He was dead for almost half an hour. Now he has the shakes and he forgets things. His insurance wouldn’t cover his injuries because there was a company rule against having more than two assailants at a time, even though everyone ignores it. He’s worse than completely broke, and the state board won’t renew his license. He can’t die for a living anymore, and he isn’t fit for anything else.”
“Have we agreed I shouldn’t offer you sympathy? I don’t want to overstep.”
She flinches, as from a biting insect. “I wouldn’t deserve your sympathy even if you had any to give. I’m a snotty, selfish, entitled little bitch. My dad lost everything, and I’m in a pissy mood because we’re not doing what I wanted for my birthday. He got me the best gift he could, and I was going to drop it in front of a train. Tell me that doesn’t sound ungrateful.”
“It sounds like the latest disappointment on a stack of them. Ancient religions used to tell people that letting go of yearning is the highest form of spirituality. But Buddha had it wrong. Yearning is the difference between being human and being a Clockwork. Not to want is not to live. Even DNA is an engine of desire—driven to copy itself over and over. Nothing spiritual about a hair dryer. What did you want to do for your birthday?”
“Me and my friends were going to the top of the Spoke at sunset to see the stars come out. I’ve only ever seen them in pay-per-vision streams. Never for real. We were going to drink Sparklefroth and shoot sparks and then ride Drop Bubbles back to earth. After, we were going to put on Hideware and go down to the Cabinet Carnivals. My friends all think I’m getting a new face today, because that’s what they got for their birthdays. No way that’s happening. My mom is so cheap I bet she won’t even buy me a new battery for my busted-ass Monowheel.”
“And you can’t tell your friends you can’t afford a new face right now?”
“I can—if I want pity for my birthday. But Sparklefroth tastes better.”
“I can’t help with the new face,” he says. “Theft is prohibited. But if you want to see the stars come out from the top of the Spoke, it isn’t too late. Sunset is in twenty-one minutes.”
Iris looks toward the silver needle puncturing the mustard-colored clouds. “You need a ticket and reservations for the elevator.” She has never been above the clouds, and they have never once cleared off in all her sixteen years. It’s been overcast in the city for nearly three decades.
“You don’t need an elevator. You’ve got me.”
She catches in place. “What malarkey is this?”
“If I can carry a four-hundred-kilo wheel, I’m sure I can carry a forty-two-kilogram girl up a few stairs.”
“It’s not a few. It’s three thousand.”
“Three thousand and eighteen. I will need nine minutes from the bottom step. A Drop Bubble is eighty-three credits, a glass of Sparklefroth is eleven, a table is only by reservation—but the gallery in the Sun Parlor is free to all, Iris.”
Her respiration has quickened. Rapid eye movements between himself and the Spoke telegraph her excitement.
“I . . . well . . . when I imagined it, I always thought I’d have a friend along.”
“You will,” he said. “What do you think you paid for?”
6.
The lobby is almost a quarter of a mile high, a dizzying cathedral of green glass. The air is cool and smells corporate. The glass barrels of the elevators vanish into pale clouds. The Spoke is so large it has its own climate.
They queue to pass through the scanners. The Clockwork guards might’ve been carved from soap, uniformed figures with featureless white heads and smooth white hands: a squad of living mannequins. Iris steps through the Profiler, which scans for weapons, biological agents, drugs, chemicals, threatening intentions, and debt. A low, discordant pulse sounds. A security Clockwork gestures for her to go through again. On her second pass, she clears the scanner without incident. A moment later Chip follows.
“Any idea why you tripped the Profiler?” Chip asks. “Debt? Or a desire to harm others?”