paper cup. From the nearly burning heat, she figured she’d be able to finish this block, cross to the other side of the street, and reach the far corner before the cup fell apart. Meanwhile, she had an extra prop to obscure her face.
In the back of her mind, she kept track of Pizi, who behaved like a regular stray cat, though, as a stray, she would be shot by any passing military or police. The cat intently explored the gaps between the shops, and portions of the alleys behind, crossing half a block ahead of Levona in a dark area.
Levona stayed one step behind a clump of people her age — early twenties — like she was part of the group and lagged behind, head angled down as if focused on her coffee so she’d finish the drink before the cup fell apart into soggy paper.
The three-meter-tall graffiti wall began on her right, and she strove to remain relaxed. Cameras would be recording her, and some of the street musicians or dancers would be gov agents.
With a sidelong glance, she gazed at the gaudily decorated concrete that the mutant psis — as well as other outcast groups — used for coded messages. Drawings and street art; words, phrases, and scribbling by many hands in a swath of tints and patterns swept across the surface, or pinched tight in tiny spaces, dazzling with intense emotions and the pop of color.
Now to look for the secret message of where and when and who she could meet from the underground psi resistance to ask about the ship.
She sent a splash of power across the width. Nothing showed up in the designated location.
Had to stop, now, within scan distance of the part of the wall behind her. She stumbled, dropped her coffee, swore when the cup hit the ground and splatted into paper strips, expensive liquid spreading across the pitted sidewalk. She squatted to pick up the sodden cup shreds. The lovely scent of lost coffee brought tears to her eyes that she couldn’t afford if she had to search the wall for information.
Levona turned her head and summoned enough energy to pulse mind power at the wall behind her. Nothing.
Her heart began to beat faster, louder in her ears than the electric violin across the street, and the shuffling of dancing feet.
Had she been too long away from CentralConglom? Too out of the loop of tenuous connection with the mutant psi folk? Probably. Get moving. With one last swipe at the gritty sidewalk with an equally shredded tissue, she gathered the final strip of cup, and stood. Walked slowly to the next recycle canister, muttering to herself, straining to keep the psi flow at the wall. Finding the right message from the right group shouldn’t be this difficult.
She slumped, scuffing the ground, acting peeved for anyone who watched … and felt a tingle ahead of her near the top of the wall, not in the previously stipulated spot. Pausing to stare at the concrete slab, pretending to study the beautiful Arabic calligraphy at her eye-level, she saw what she’d hoped to discover. One black glyph of the manipura chakra, then the glowing-psi symbols of a green lotus and a quick flash of … not the green triangle she expected but a brown knot.
The mutant contact tonight would be at The Frigid Rush coffee shop. Date and place known. The knot indicator of the person, Levona didn’t parse. And didn’t know if names or symbols had changed or whether this was a new liaison in the last two years.
She had old code phrases, of course, but the real identification of one mutant to another was flashing a bit of psi power.
If she didn’t recognize the go-between … she didn’t know what she’d do. Have Pizi sniff the person and hope Pizi could sense honesty? That Levona herself could?
Not hesitating in stride, she walked past the end of the wall, touched the popular “lucky spot” with her knuckles like most everyone else, and continued on. When she reached the end of the small neighborhood business section Pizi joined her as the buildings became bungalows and night settled into the city.
Where We going? asked Pizi.
Levona visualized a map with The Frigid Rush marked on it, no more than three kilometers away. You pick the route, she told Pizi mentally.
If someone watched them by chance, Pizi’s choice of path might throw off a person. Or their wanderings would not seem purposeful to cameras and keep them