Authors: Richard Morgan
“Go
on thinking like that, nothing’ll ever change for you.”
“Kristin,
nothing ever
does
change.” I jerked a thumb back at the crowd
outside. “You’ll always have morons like that, swallowing belief
patterns whole so they don’t have to think for themselves. You’ll
always have people like Kawahara and the Bancrofts to push their buttons and
cash in on the program. People like you to make sure the game runs smoothly and
the rules don’t get broken too often. And when the Meths want to break
the rules themselves, they’ll send people like Trepp and me to do it.
That’s the truth, Kristin. It’s been the truth since I was born a
hundred and fifty years ago and from what I read in the history books,
it’s never been any different. Better get used to it.”
She looked
at me levelly for a moment, then nodded as if coming to an internal decision.
“You always meant to kill Kawahara, didn’t you? This confession
bullshit was just to get me along for the ride.”
It was a
question I’d asked myself a lot, and I still didn’t have a clear
answer. I shrugged again.
“She
deserved to die, Kristin. To really die. That’s all I know for
certain.”
Over my
head, a faint pattering sounded from the roof panels. I tipped my head back and
saw transparent explosions on the glass. It was starting to rain.
“Got
to go,” I said quietly. “Next time you see this face, it
won’t be me wearing it, so if there’s anything you want to
say…”
Ortega’s
face flinched almost imperceptibly as I said it. I cursed myself for the awkwardness
and tried to take her hand.
“Look,
if it makes it any easier, no one knows. Bautista probably suspects we got it
together, but no one really knows.”
“
I
know,” she said sharply, not giving me her hand. “I
remember.”
I sighed.
“Yeah, so do I. It’s
worth
remembering, Kristin. But
don’t let it fuck up the rest of your life. Go get Ryker back, and get on
to the next screen. That’s what counts. Oh yeah.” I reached into my
coat and extracted a crumpled cigarette packet. “And you can have these
back. I don’t need them any more, and nor does he, so don’t start
him off again. You owe me that much, at least. Just make sure he stays
quit.”
She blinked
and kissed me abruptly, somewhere between mouth and cheek. It was an inaccuracy
I didn’t try to correct either way. I turned away before I could see if
there were going to be any tears and started for the doors at the far end of
the hall. I looked back once, as I was mounting the steps. Ortega was still
standing there, arms wrapped around herself, watching me leave. In the
stormlight, it was too far away to see her face clearly.
For a
moment something ached in me, something so deep-rooted that I knew to tear it
out would be to undo the essence of what held me together. The feeling rose and
splashed like the rain behind my eyes, swelling as the drumming on the roof
panels grew and the glass ran with water.
Then I had
it locked down.
I turned
back to the next step, found a chuckle somewhere in my chest and coughed it
out. The chuckle fired up and became a laugh of sorts.
Get to
the next screen
.
The doors
were waiting at the top, the needlecast beyond.
Still trying to laugh, I
went through.