DORIC

We were back in the subfloor food court and I was back in my Pat Mall uniform, only this time Harmony was in her red dress, and standing there holding my hand.

This isn't the night of the riots.

No, she told me. But I want you to look at the boys. She pointed across to those three slinking Pit Rats eating cricket tacos at one of the tables.

What? It's those three again. Why are they important?

Look closely at them.

I squinted at the Rats, but saw nothing unusual. They were just like any other Pit Rats—up to no good, dirty, their clothes stained, their hair greasy.

Harmony was looking at them intently as well. She said: It took them weeks to scrounge enough credits to come to the mall for lunch.

Let me guess: dumpster diving.

Yup. You'd be surprised how many Platters throw away gift digicards when they get down to a few pennies, but collect enough cards and you've got enough to buy you and your buddies tacos.

We were constantly chasing Rats out of the recycling dumpsters. It was bloody dangerous—the haulers would come and lift a dumpster, only to find Rats inside of them.

I know. I told him not to do it, I told him again and again.

Wait? Do you know him, Ann? I gestured with my chin towards the Rat boy leader, thin and wiry, with an arrogant slouch.

No, not him. That's Than. The other one, behind him—the shortest one.

The boy behind this Than was slim, slight, but with some baby fat still around his face. Who is he? He's young.

Travers. He was thirteen.

Who? Then it hit me—Travers as he was two years ago, Oh God. We tasered your son.

I know I felt it when it happened. A buzz.

Yes, I felt it through this memory just before.

She nodded. Through our link. An echo of an echo. Every parent, everyone those boys were linked to felt it when you tasered those kids.

I didn't know. You have to understand, Ann. There was so many of them. We just tasered them; tagged them and let them go. It was my...job. Why didn't they eat their lunch and leave? Why did they insist on going up to the top of the mall?

They wanted to see above the dust, to see the clear sky.

It never occurred to me that the Rats never saw clear sky. But still company rules were company rules. It wasn't my fault. I told her: I was just following orders.

Yes, I know all about just following orders, she replied her voice tinged with sarcasm.

Anger pricked me. That's unfair. That's un...j...

Un, un, what? Unjust? You're going to tell me what "unjust" is?

I'd be damned if I was going to take full blame for the Corporation's failings. I didn't invent the world we live in, Ann. I didn't lease the planet and all its mineral rights to WAVE Corp. I didn't write the trespassing laws. I didn't start the riot. I'm just trying to make an honest living.

I don't want your explanations or your excuses.

Then why did you want to show me this, Ann?

For you to know...

The scene—the memory—shifted a third time. We were in this big cavern I instantly recognized as the main bunker, though I'd only ever seen pictures of it. Harmony was staring intently at Mancy. They stood facing each other. This isn't my memory, I said.

No, she answered me. It's mine—the night of the riot.

What's happening?

We're having a conversation. Listen.

Then, though I saw no lips moving, I heard them both. It was not a conversation. It was an argument.

I'm going, Harmony said to Mancy.

No, it's too dangerous. You'll only make matters worse, he replied.

He's my son. I need to find him before he gets himself killed.

They won't kill him, Annie. They'll taser him and send him back like they did before.

He promised me it would be a peaceful protest. But now he's in the middle of a riot. He could get trampled to death. I have to find him. I have to bring him back.

Do you know how big the crowd is? You'll never find him.

Nonsense. I can hear him in my head.

You'll never reach him. You'll never reach the mall and you'll just get tasered yourself.

But...I have to try...

No, I won't allow it—not for that idiot.

He's not an idiot. He's my child.

He's an idiot—they all are. This is just going to make it worse for everyone, Annie. They're just going to clamp down harder. They tolerate us now. But after this, none of us will be allowed on the Plat.

None of us? Or you? You mean worse for you, right? You won't be able to hang out at that fancy restaurant at the top of the mall. You won't be able to fuck those pathetic Plat ladies fawning all over you.

You stupid cow. Where do you think Bergen finds his connections on the Plat to get all those supplies?

I don't know, but I bet he doesn't sleep with any of his contacts.

No, he's far too noble for that. That's my job. I grease the wheels.

And what? You don't enjoy it? I know you do. I can feel it when you do.

So, what? So, fucking what? Why can't I have a little enjoyment, a little something, something other than this shit hole?

Harmony's heart fell then—I could feel her remembered heart ache. I'm in this shit hole, she told him.

Then Mancy tried to backtrack as all men do when they've put their foot in it with a woman. I felt a pang of regret coming from him—not for what he was feeling, but for letting Harmony catch a glimpse of what he was feeling.

Like the buzzing, it was another echo, filtered through her old connection with Mancy. I wondered if Mancy, currently wrapped in his own thoughts in his own cell on the station, could feel the echo of my emotions?

What an incredible thought—connections upon connections, glimpses of souls, a whole vast network the dust had created, whether we liked it or not, whether we were aware of it happening or not.

Mancy tried to backtrack. Annie, I didn't mean...I didn't mean...

But Harmony had clamped a lid down on her heartache and was thinking of only one thing, her boy, her one remaining child, her Travers.

Get out of my way, Mancy.

Annie, it's a riot. It's dangerous.

I'm going. He grabbed Harmony by the arms as she tried to pass him. Angry black dust flew back and forth between them.

LET ME GO.

She shrugged out of his hands and he let her. She turned her back on him and raced down the tunnel toward the Plat entrance.

Mancy called something incoherent after her—after them all. They had all, all of the council members, gone to join the protest that had turned into the riot, that led, as Mancy predicted, to the closing of the roads in and out of the Pit, of the clamp down, of detention without charge, of the blockade. WAVE Corp. ran out of patience.

And I can picture Mancy looking around the empty bunker—swept clean of the dust as the cloud had followed Harmony down the tunnel and it seemed to me made its way to the mall to swoosh in through the broken glass ceiling and envelope us all.

I can see Mancy—and I expect this is just my imagination as Harmony was long gone by then—alone, sweeping back his hair from his eyes, whispering aloud to the empty room: "It's stupid. It's just so stupid. All they want is for us to cooperate. This will just make everything worse. Why won't they listen?" I'm fairly certain that's what he said because it's a line he's repeated several times since then.

Pit District, Simoom

One year ago

HARMONY

Mancy was right. I never reached Travers. I never reached the Mall. WAVE Corp. locked down everything. I came back to the bunker and cried in Mancy's arms. I know, I know, what you're going to say Vestra—how could I forgive him again, but I was all alone. I waited to see who would escape back down the tunnel, Bergen came, Omari, Sharise, Ng, Olafsen—they all crawled back. But none had seen my boy. None could tell me what happened to him. I called to Travers in my mind, but I couldn't get a clear sense of him. He seemed far away.

The next morning, WAVE Corp. issued its famous announcement: "To ensure the safety of all Plateau citizens, WAVE Corp. employees and their families, we have instituted a lockdown of the district known as the Pit until further notice. All Pit illegals found on the Plateau will be held in detention." The blockade: no one and nothing in or out, no news either. That did not go down good in the Pit. Soon we were swimming in these green clouds of dust that stank of panic and fear.

On the second night, Omari called an emergency meeting not just for the co-op council; it was public. We held it in the barroom of one of the boarding houses high up the slope. From the door through the green dust, you could see the lights of all the Pats stationed along the Plateau's edge. The barricades, gates and fences had gone up overnight.

"People! People!" I remember Omari yelling out loud to the packed crowd. He was standing on a table. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please!" And a big boom and rattle came from the wind outside. That shut everyone up. "We must remain calm. Please, we can survive this if we pull together..."

He was stopped by the owner of the boarding house, one of my old landladies, who was angry and making all kinds of gestures at Omari.

"Madam, Madam," he said to her. "Speak out loud, please, for the benefit of those not linked to you."

She switched over to speaking without stopping her rant. "You people come in here, and take over my place without saying nothing to me and these thieves break into my 'shine." She pointed at a group who had pushed aside the bartender and were helping themselves. "Who's going to pay for all this? I've had two break-ins already, stealing from my stores. Who's doing anything about that?"

"My supplies have been stolen too! Just last night they broke in," someone else from the crowd called out.

"What's the Co-op Council going to do about the looting, Omari?" shouted another.

"What about those who've been arrested by the Pats?" said a third. "I can't get a clear reading."

"Nobody can. We don't know where they are. We don't know if they're even alive. What are the Pats saying Omari?"

"What's going on?"

I felt the weight of their worry close in on me, adding to my own worry and guilt. I kept telling myself I had done my best for Travers, but had I really? Or had I been too wrapped up in Mancy? Was it my fault Travers had gone to riot? Isn't a mother supposed to keep her children safe? We don't know if they're even alive. Dear God, I remember praying, not Travers too.

Feeding on our desperation, the dust inside the boarding house swirled in little tornados. I pushed my scarf over my nose, but you couldn't help but breathe it in, you couldn't help get it on your tongue. It tasted like something had gone rancid. Someone tell me what to do ... please.

Omari raised his hands and his voice, trying to calm the crowd. But he couldn't talk loud enough. People were just yelling at each other now.

I knew this would happen. Mancy hissed into our brains.

Not now, Mancy, Omari hissed back. He was still trying to get control of the crowd. "PEOPLE! Listen to me! This is what we know ..."

You arrogant little prick. Mancy continued. It's all your damn fault Omari.

That's unfair. This was from Sharise. Omari did not start the riot.

"All we know is what you know—what they announced." Omari was ignoring the fighting in our heads and kept on speaking to the crowd. "Now, we need to name a representative who will start negotiations with the Pats. Find out what their demands are."

"And I suppose that's you?" Mancy spoke his contempt out loud and his voice was dragged around the room by the dust clouds. Without letting Omari answer, Mancy got up on a chair and said to the crowd. "Listen, I know these people. I know WAVE Corp. management. These are not bad people. They can be reasonable. They can be reasoned with. They just need a few assurances. We just need to follow a few rules."

"What rules?" shouted back someone.

"Well, if I were them, I would just want to stop the vandalism, the thievery, the dumpster diving."

"Yes, by eliminating all of us," said Omari and lots of people grunted their agreement.

"By making sure visitors on the Plat comply with the rules," Mancy talked over him. "All they want is peace and good governance and respect for private property. I propose that I—"

"You can't trust anything they say!" yelled Omari.

A couple of voices in the crowd cried out.

"What about my daughter? She didn't come back last night. What's happened to her?"

"My brother is missing!"

Then we were back to everyone yelling—Omari and Mancy at each other and everyone else about their missing people, their sons and daughters, husbands and wives and sweethearts, their moms and dads, and brothers and sisters. No one it seemed was going to do anything, but argue. They were all yelling, and around us the green dust got thick like soup. I could taste this puke in my mouth every time I gulped some air, every time I thought of Travers and I was crying and I thought no, no, I can't lose another kid—and it was like my heart was squeezed too tight—my head was too full of voices. No one, no one was going to help.

So, I just walked out of the boarding house (there was actually less dust outside), and though my stomach was churning with fear, I climbed up to the barricade, to the edge of the Plateau where all the Pats stood guard.

I walked until they saw me and turned all their lights on me and I was blinded. I squinted up at them and then I heard this voice, telling me to stop, telling me to put up my hands.

So, I stopped and put my hands up, gulped once or twice, to settle my stomach. I had to find a way to save my boy. I had to find my voice. I yelled back at them: "I want to talk to whoever's in charge of you guys!" And then I added just so they'd take me seriously. "I'm a member of the Pit Co-op Council."

I heard laughter and that pissed me off. "I command you to let me talk to the person in charge!" I command you—I can't believe I said that, but I did.

They laughed some more, of course, but then I heard this other voice. "I'm Chief Superintendent Moses Caraq, you asked to see me, Commander...Commander?"

"I'm not a commander...I'm a mother...my name is Ann...Ann Harmony."

"Well, Mother Ann Harmony, you have commanded my presence and here I am. What do you want?" I blinked and blinked, trying to see pass the lights, to see the man who spoke, but I couldn't make him out.

My mouth was dry. I swallowed hard. "I have a son who's missing..." I started to say, and then I felt this wind push me from behind. I turned, and there were all these Pitters. I hadn't noticed but they had followed me out of the boarding house. In the back of them stood Omari and Mancy—looking like I had stolen their thunder. I turned back to Caraq. "We...we have all these people who are missing. We want to know what's happened to them."

"I'm not authorized to give out that information."

"Who is? Who is then? Ask them, we need to know. You have to tell us—"

"I don't have to tell you anything, Commander Ann Harmony of the Pit Co-op Council." He was making fun of me, and his Pats knew it. There was even more laughter.

But I wouldn't give up. I had to reach this man, make him listen to me. "Moses? Moses! That's your name, right? My son's name is Travers, Moses...he's fourteen. Please, Moses."

Nobody spoke from the barricades or behind me. And I was about to turn around, and have another good cry in Mancy's arms, when Caraq spoke: "Do you have a list of names?"

My heart leapt with hope. "I can get one."

"Do so," he said. "And come back tomorrow."

That's how I became a commander, Vestra. That's how I became the official spokesperson for the Pit Co-op Council. 

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