Page 24 of Scion

“So that’s it?” She sounds vaguely disappointed.

“Pretty much. My memories of that day aren’t exactly pristine. Getting blown up and then sleeping for more than half a year is a great story, but it doesn’t do much for your clarity.” I roll my shoulders. “The Keres weren’t able to trace whoever put me on the job. I’ve looked too, now and then—gone through all the old data on the bombing—but there’s nothing there. Talios claimed it, and as far as anyone else is concerned, that was just what happened.”

“Did you ever go back? Investigate in person?”

I shake my head. “Couldn’t, even if I wanted to. I’m dead there. DeGov inquiry would have wanted to keep guaranteed access to me for months, maybe years. The Keres gave me a new ID, new name, and new city after I woke up.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “So what was your name before?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. Do you miss being them?”

I shrug. “I’m Azure, now.”

Old Woman considers me. It feels like she’s about to say something, but then the drone makes a sharp turn and she topples sideways like a graceless, flailing cadaver, crying out in alarm before muttering curses to herself as she picks herself up.

I do try to hide my smirk. She still sees. “You think watching an old woman get hurt is funny?”

“Not always.”

She harrumphs at me, checking herself for bruises before crawling carefully back into her seated position. “You really should have brought those cushions.”

“You really should have programmed the drone better.”

“I was in a rush,” she grumbles. “You said you brought some food?”

I reach into my pack and pull out one of the grey K-bars I printed, offering it to her.

She takes it. Holds it up to the light. Looks at it in pure horror. “But…why?”

“It’s healthy.”

“It’s an abomination. Something else, please.”

“There’s nothing else.” I grab one of my own and bite down. “It really doesn’t taste that bad.”

Old Woman is still staring at the greyish, semi-gelatinous bar in her hand. “Azure? Your life is a nightmare.”

I look around at the vibrating toxic waste container. Then at her.

“Yup,” I agree, and take another bite.

THE QUESTIONS CONTINUE SPORADICALLY FOR the hours that follow, though they’re blessedly punctuated by long periods of silence. When they do come, they’re personal but absently asked, almost offensively unimportant. Things like whether I prefer the sun on a cold day or the shade on a hot one. Running or swimming. Sleeping on my back or my side. I remain entirely mystified as to their purpose, but answer truthfully. No reason to risk my chance of finally finding out what in the hell is going on.

Old Woman’s been resting her eyes for almost the past thirty minutes—not surprising, given it’s very early morning now—and I’m just beginning to hope that we might be nearing the end of our journey, when she suddenly opens them again, and leans forward. “So tell me, Azure. How did you get started in all of this?”

“Working for the Keres?” She nods. “I was a Runner. You know—for anything you wanted kept completely off-net. But after the Ten-O-Ten commercial amendment got its seven-year renewal, I signed up for a bunch of trials. A lot of new businesses jumping into the market, back then, and plenty of us looking for a way to make more tokens past Basic. Not sure which one the Keres got my DNA from, but that’s when they realised I was compatible with revs. They were offering a hell of a lot better pay, and as a bonus it was all legal.”

Her brow furrows even more than it does naturally. “Why do you hate them, then? The lifers?”

“Hate them?” I reflect her surprise back at her.

“You don’t?”

“Why would I?”

“You kill an awful lot of them.”