A Crack in the Sky (23 page)

“You’re crazy! I’m no leader! I’m just a kid!”

“Is it such a crazy idea? You’re the grandchild of the CEO of all InfiniCorp. It’s not a stretch to imagine that his cunning might have been passed on to you. What’s more, you’ve already shown abilities that few possess, including the strength to resist the pull of the CloudNet. No, it
is
you. I can feel it. You’re the one Fate has chosen to fulfill the prophecy. Whatever
hope is left for the ragtag remains of humanity, you hold it in your hands. The day of reckoning is almost here. Come. Lead us. Guide us through the approaching upheaval to the place we all must go.”

Eli couldn’t believe what the Outsider was saying. Even as the respirator hissed and the robotic grip tightened, he could only stare into the cold, intelligent eyes that were searching his own.

“Where do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you talking about the Wild Orange Yonder?”

The old man didn’t respond, but in his gaze the answer was clear.

“Who are you?”

“In the wasteland I have many aliases: Samuel the Trickster, Old Gus the Fool, el Viejo del Desierto, just to name a few. To keep my anonymity I’ve even feigned my own death. Seldom do I reveal my true identity, even to my allies, because those who know it face great danger. But
you
, Eli, need to know if you’re ever going to understand.” A lock of gray hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it back with his natural hand. Eli noticed something on his palm. A tattoo. It was that image again: the blazing sun with the jagged, twisting rays. “Long ago the official company records showed my name as Dr. S. G. Friedmann, but always my middle name was the one used by those who knew me best. My real name,” he said into Eli’s ear, “is Gustavo.”

At last he let go. Eli’s feet hit the metal grate again, and for a moment he stayed frozen, still gaping at the ancient creature. Marilyn tugged at his trouser leg.

Eli, let’s go home!

He took a step back. This time the Outsider didn’t try to stop him. At the far side of the ledge, and with Marilyn clinging to his cloak, he swung himself onto the ladder. Then he scrambled down through the night sky. After a few rungs, when he felt the immediate danger was over, he craned his neck upward again.

The grizzled old face was still peering over the ledge, still watching.

13
the way of the future

Safe on the ground again, Eli and Marilyn made their way home through darkened streets. Eli kept checking over his shoulder in case anybody was following. Now that he’d firmly and finally refused to join the Foggers, who could guess how they might try to take their fanatical vengeance on him?

It just doesn’t add up
, he observed silently to Marilyn.
How could an old desert rat have designed the domes? And why would anyone say such unforgivable things about my family? That Outsider must have been so brain fevered, he didn’t know what he was saying. When the masked boy told me Gustavo was taken by the desert, I thought he meant he was dead
. Eli kept his head low and ducked down Angell Street.
How is anybody supposed to figure out what’s real and what isn’t?

I don’t know, my love
.

Within minutes they were home again. They shot inside and Eli locked the front door behind them. His dinner was still waiting for him on the kitchen table, but he rushed past it.
He found Claudia dozing on the sofa with the CloudNet still on and a flashing party hat tilted on her head. She’d been out celebrating on the street with all the others, Eli guessed, and now she was spent. Nobody appeared in the sphere to tell him there were any messages, which was a relief. It meant he had at least until morning before he would have to face Mother and Father.

He charged up the stairs and into his room. “Heather, please put me through to Grandfather.”

Marilyn trailed behind him.
Do you think it’s such a good idea to admit you climbed the sky and met this Outsider? It’s only going to make things worse for you
.

What am I supposed to do? Grandfather knows the truth, and he’s the only one I can trust to tell me. Besides, if Grandfather really did know this guy once, then maybe if I help the company track him down, it might lead them to forgive me someday
.

Marilyn looked skeptical.

Heather appeared in the sphere. “Oh hi, sweetie,” she said, looking adorable in a short-sleeved blouse with swirling colors and the words
I Survived the Providence Sky Freak-out, and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt
written across the chest. Behind her a mariachi band played peppy music while a crowd of digital people danced. “I’m heading out to join my friend Betty at the afterparty at Club Babyhead! Want to come?”

Eli ignored her. The Heather program was constantly coming up with new ways to maintain the illusion that she was real. Everybody knew she wasn’t, of course, but the company had done extensive market research and found that consumers enjoyed the fantasy that CloudNet assistants had lives of their
own. Last month Heather had gone through an emotional breakup with a fictional boyfriend.

“Didn’t you hear me? I have to speak with my grandfather.”

“Oh, don’t get all in a huff. I heard. God, you can be a ping-kill sometimes, you know that?” The music wound down and the dancers walked dejectedly away. After that, Heather was all business. “Okay, so what’s this about? Grandfather’s a busy guy, and you know you’re not supposed to disturb him at work.”

“But he’s
always
at work. Listen, I’m his grandson and I need to ask him something. Just ping him, please. I think he’ll answer when he hears it’s me, especially if you say it’s important.”

She rolled her eyes. “All right, all right, Mr. Man on a Mission. I’ll put you through, and you can tell him yourself.” She faded, and a moment later the sphere filled with the smiling face of Grandfather’s personal assistant, Doug. Doug was synthetic too, an earnest-looking guy with a tweed jacket and just a touch of gray around the ears. Eli had spoken with him before, but not often.

“Good evening, Eli. I hear you’re looking for Grandfather. Unfortunately he’s in a meeting at the moment.”

“This late?” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost ten at night.”

“I’m afraid so. Is everything okay?”

Eli bit his lip. Even though he should have expected this, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “No, actually, it’s not.”

“What’s the matter? I can take a message if you’d like.”

Eli was surprised he didn’t seem to know about his job
assignment yet, but then again maybe it wouldn’t be coded into the CloudNet until it was official. At Eli’s feet Marilyn’s whiskers twitched, her eyes still on him.

“I don’t know.…” He curled and uncurled his fingers in his pockets. “It’s kind of … private.”

“I assure you, any message left with me will be kept in the strictest of confidence.”

Eli considered. How could he leave just enough information to ensure that Grandfather would ping him back but not enough to get him in trouble before they had a chance to talk? He had to choose his words carefully. “All right,” he said. “Tell him I met somebody today, someone who says he used to be friends with him years ago. He told me a bunch of crazy stuff, stuff I don’t believe. Anyway, please ask Grandfather to ping me as soon as he can. I have some questions.”

“I’ll make sure he gets this as soon as his meeting is over. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Very good, sir.”

Eli sat hunched on his bed with his back to the wall and his knees pulled tight to his chin. It’d been several long minutes since he’d left the message. Claudia had already called up the stairs to him, saying good night before dragging herself to bed. Now, as he sat staring at his bedroom door, he jumped at every noise, trembling at the thought of what the Outsider had said:

It won’t be long before you’ll be with us once and for all …

What if the Foggers were coming for him? As crazy as the old Outsider had been, he knew how to sneak his way into the
crust of the dome. If the Foggers could manage that, who knew what else they could do?

He told himself he was being ridiculous. Silently he begged Grandfather to hurry up and finish his stupid meeting and ping him back. All this waiting was driving him nuts.

Eli, I found something interesting
. It was the first time Marilyn had spoken in quite a while. All this time she’d been balled up in a corner with her eyes closed. Now she chirped excitedly and hopped onto the bed.

“What? Tell me.”

Ever since we saw the Outsider, I’ve been searching the CloudNet. I started by looking for text on Dr. S. G. Friedmann, or Samuel G. Friedmann, or S. Gustavo Friedmann—any combination I thought might work. In the end, though, I found nothing that matched anybody who was ever involved in building the domes
.

“What does that prove? He told us he’d been erased from the archives.”

Wait, darling, I’m not finished. When I didn’t find any text files, I started scanning the image files. I sifted through a few billion of them, starting with the oldest I could find
. She was staring into his eyes now, excited.
You wouldn’t believe how many archived databases there are in the far recesses of the CloudNet. It’s like wandering through a gigantic museum full of secret doors and hidden passages to rooms people seem to have forgotten about. There are storage systems that have sat unnoticed for decades. And in one of them I came across something that caught my attention. Oh, if only I could take you there!

Still gazing into her eyes, Eli suddenly felt something new, a fizzing sensation inside his head. He sat up and pressed his
palm against his temple. It was as if Marilyn had mentally grabbed his hand and was pulling him along behind her through a digital tunnel. He was on some strange electronic thrill ride across a series of interconnecting highways, bridges, and footpaths that went on and on in every direction, twisting and turning around him while he held on for his life. Soon the rush was over, and he gasped. He was back in his room, but now his scalp tingled, and he realized there was an image forming inside his brain. A bunch of executives standing around a table. He was sure he’d never seen or imagined this picture before in his life. So why could he see it now?

But he already knew the answer. It was just too weird to believe.

“Marilyn, did you feel that?”

She looked as surprised as he was.
Yes. Somehow I carried you with me through the CloudNet
.

“I can see the file even without a sphere. Somehow you downloaded it into my brain. How?”

I don’t know! I just … did it
.

Eli could hardly believe it. It must have been a feature of the chip they’d never come across before. It wasn’t just weird—it was scary.

Look at the image, Eli
.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. The file was almost like a memory except much clearer and more detailed, as if there were a physical screen right in front of him. The shot, of a bunch of smiling men and women in old-fashioned business suits, had obviously been taken long ago. From the pose and the location—there was no mistaking Grandfather’s boardroom—Eli realized this was a room full of senior executives
from decades past, an early picture of the Leadership Council. Grandfather was in the center, shaking hands with somebody and grinning into the camera. It was weird to see him with hair and looking so much younger than he did today. He didn’t recognize any of the other people. On the table in front of them was a model of a city not unlike Grandfather’s music box, complete with tall buildings, stadiums, houses, and roads, all in miniature—and a wire dome shell that completely enclosed the model. Beside the mini city was a sign with thick purple letters:

“Okay, this is an old shot from when they first created the domes. So what?”

Do you see the man your grandfather is shaking hands with? Look at his name tag
.

Eli did. He was a skinny, mustached guy with a sloping nose and cropped black hair. At first the letters on the tag seemed too small to read, but then Eli found he could zoom in closer.

Dr. S. G. Friedmann
.

“All right. So now we know there really was a man called S. G. Friedmann, and whoever he was, he used to be important enough to be on the Leadership Council. But that doesn’t mean we’re looking at Gustavo from the Friends of Gustavo or
that the Outsider we met is the same person as the one in this picture. Who knows? That nut job could’ve somehow heard of this Dr. Friedmann and could be only pretending to be him.”

Why would he do that?

“I don’t know. He’s crazy. He’s a Fogger. Why would somebody on the Leadership Council end up as an Outsider?”

Marilyn couldn’t answer.

Eli studied the picture again. The man with the mustache didn’t look anything like the ancient Outsider he’d seen, but then again the picture was very old, and the Outsider’s face had been badly scarred. There was no way to tell for sure. He checked Dr. Friedmann’s hand, the one held casually at his side. The skin of his fingers looked natural. But there was something else.