Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (50 page)

“You must have had a good time bragging about it later.”

“I didn’t brag,” Shakira said. “I just met the kids and told them to go home. I said it was tough shaking you, and that you were one of the best runners who ever tailed me.”

Amy’s lip curled. “How nice of you, Shakira. You still beat me.”

“I saw what happened, why you didn’t jump back on the strip. Some runners would have risked it anyway, even with less room than you had. They would have jumped, and if a couple of people got knocked off the strip, too bad. I’m glad you aren’t that antisocial.”

“What do you want with me, anyway?” Amy asked. A few women stopped near her to look in the store window, but she ignored them; even in this wretched area, people wouldn’t be crass enough to eavesdrop.

“Well, I heard about this girl, Amy Barone-Stein, who could run the strips with the best of them. I still know a few runners, even though most of my college friends would disapprove of them. I thought you might be a little like me — restless, maybe a bit angry, wondering if you’d ever be more than a component in the City’s machine.”

Amy stepped back a little. “So what?”

“I thought you might like a challenge.”

“But you said before that you didn’t want to make that run.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Shakira said. “I mean a real challenge, something a lot harder and more interesting than running strips. It might be worthwhile for you if you’ve got the guts for it. “Amy took another step backward, certain that the woman was about to propose a shady undertaking. “You see, I’m part of that group of Lije’s — Elijah Baley’s — the people who go Outside once a week. His son Bentley is an acquaintance of mine.”

Amy gaped at her, completely surprised. “But why —”

“There are only a few of us so far. The City gives us a little support, mostly because of Lije — Mr. Baley — but I suspect the City government thinks we’re as eccentric as everyone else does, and that we’re deluded to think we can ever settle another world.”

“Why bother?” Amy said. “The Spacers’ll never let anyone off Earth.”

“Lije left, didn’t he?”

“That was different, and they sent him back here as fast as they could. I’ll bet they didn’t even thank him for solving that murder. They’d never let a bunch of Earthpeople on one of their worlds.”

“Not one of theirs, no.” Shakira leaned against the window. “But Lije Baley is convinced they’ll allow settlers on an uninhabited world eventually — maybe sooner than we think — and that they’ll provide us with ships to get there. But we can’t settle another world unless we’re able to live Outside a City.”

Amy shook her head. “Nobody can live Outside.”

“Earthpeople used to. The Earthpeople who settled the Spacer worlds long ago did. The Spacers do, and we manage to — for two or three hours a week, anyway. It’s a start, just getting accustomed to that, and it isn’t easy, but any settlers will have to be people like us, who’ve shown we can leave a City.”

“And you want me in this group?” Amy asked.

“I thought you might be interested. We could use more recruits, and younger people seem to adapt more quickly. Just think of it — if we do get to leave Earth, every single settler will be needed, every person will be important and useful. We’ll need people willing to gamble on a new life, individualists who want to make a mark, maybe even folks who are just a little antisocial as long as they can cooperate with others. You could be one of them, Amy.”

“If you ever leave.”

Shakira smiled. “What have you got to lose by trying?” She paused. “Do you have any idea of how precarious life inside this City is? How much more uranium can we get for our power plants? Think of all the power we have to use just to bring in water and get rid of waste. Just imagine what would happen if the air were cut off even for an hour or two — people would die by the hundreds of thousands. We’ll have to leave the Cities. They can’t keep growing indefinitely without taking up land we need for farming or forests we need for pulp. There’ll be less food, less space, less of everything, until —”

Amy looked away for a moment. Her mother had said the same thing to her.

“There isn’t a future here, Amy. “Shakira moved closer to her. “There might be one for us on other worlds.”

Amy sighed. “What a few people do won’t make any difference.”

“It’s a beginning, and if we succeed, others will follow. You seemed to think what you did was important when you were only running the strips.” The young woman beckoned to her. “Here’s my challenge for you. I’m asking you if you ‘II come Outside with me.”

“With those people?”

“Right now. Surely a strip-runner who used to risk life and limb isn’t afraid of a little open air.”

“But —”

“Come on.”

She followed Shakira down the street, helpless to resist. The woman stopped in front of an opening in the high walls. Amy peered around her and saw a long, dimly lit tunnel with another wall at its end.

“What is it?” Amy asked.

“An exit. Some of them are guarded now, but this one isn’t. There really isn’t any need to watch them — most people don’t know about them or don’t want to think about them. Even the people living in this subsection have probably forgotten this exit is here. Will you come with me?”

“What if somebody follows us?” Amy glanced nervously down the street, which seemed even emptier than before. “It isn’t safe.”

“Believe me, nobody will follow. They’d rather believe this place doesn’t exist. Will you come?”

Amy swallowed hard, then nodded. It was only a passageway; it couldn’t be that bad. They entered; she kept close to the young woman as the familiar, comforting noise of the street behind them grew fainter.

Shakira said, “The exit’s at the end.” Her voice sounded hollow in the eerie silence. Amy’s stomach knotted as they came to the end of the tunnel.

“Ready?” Shakira asked.

“I think So.”

“Hang on to me. It’ll be dark Outside — that’ll make it easier for you, and I won’t let go.”

Shakira pressed her hand against the wall. An opening slowly appeared. Amy felt cold air on her face; as they stepped Outside, the door closed behind them. She closed her eyes, terrified to look, already longing for the warmth and safety of the City.

A gust of wind slapped her, fiercer than the wind on the fastest strips. She opened her eyes and looked up. A black sky dotted with stars was above her, and that bright pearly orb had to be the moon. Except for the wind and the bone-chilling cold, she might almost have been inside a City planetarium. But the planetarium had not revealed how vast the sky was, or shown the silvery clouds that drifted below the black heavens. She lowered her gaze; a bluish-white plain, empty except for the distant domes of a farm, stretched in front of her. Her ears throbbed at the silence that was broken only by the intermittent howl of the wind.

Open air — and the white substance covering the ground had to be snow. The wind gusted again, lifting a thin white veil of flakes, then died. There was space all around her, unfiltered air, dirt under her feet, and the moon shining down on all of it; the safety of walls was gone. Her stomach lurched as her heart pounded; her head swam. Her grip on Shakira loosened; the pale plain was spinning. Then she was falling through the endless silence into a darkness as black as the sky …

Arms caught her, lifting her up; she felt warmth at her back. The silence was gone. She clawed at the air and realized she was back inside the tunnel. She blinked; her mouth was dry. “Are you all right?” Shakira felt her forehead; Amy leaned heavily against her. “I got you inside as fast as I could. I’m sorry — I forgot there’d be a full moon tonight. It would have been easier for you if it had been completely dark.”

Amy trembled, afraid to let go. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think —” She shivered with relief, welcoming the warmth, the faint but steady noise from the street, the walls of the City. She tried to smile. “Guess I didn’t do so well.”

“But you did. The first time I went Outside, I passed out right after taking my first breath of open air. The second time, I ran back inside after a few seconds and swore I’d never set foot Outside again. You did a lot better than that — I was counting. We must have been standing there for nearly two minutes.”

Shakira supported her with one arm; they made their way slowly toward the street. “Can you walk by yourself?” the woman asked as they left the tunnel.

“I think so.” Shakira let go. Amy stared down the street, which had seemed so empty earlier, relieved at the sight of all the people. “I couldn’t do that again, Shakira. I couldn’t face it — all that space.”

“I think you can.” Shakira folded her arms. “You can if you don’t give up now. We’ll be going Outside in two days. You’ll have to wear more clothes — it’d help if you can get gloves and a hat.” Amy shook her head, struck by the strangeness of needing warmer clothes; the temperature inside never varied. “It’s winter, so we’ll only take a short walk — we won’t be Outside very long. I’d like you to come with us. I’ll stay by the exit with you, and you needn’t remain Outside a second longer than you can bear. Believe me, if you keep trying, even if you think you can’t stand it, it’ll get easier. You may even start to look forward to it.”

“I don’t know —” Amy started to say.

“Will you try?”

Amy took a deep breath, smelling the odors of the City, the faint pungence of bodies, a whiff of someone’s perfume, a sharp, acrid scent she could not place; she had never noticed the smells before. “I’ll try.” She drew her brows together. “My parents will kill me if they ever find out. I’ll have to think of an excuse”

“But you must tell them, Amy.”

“They’ll never let me go.”

“Then you’ll have to find a way to convince them. They have to know for two very good reasons. One is that it’ll cause trouble for Lije if kids come Outside without their families’ permission, and the other is that they just might decide to join us themselves. I’ll come by your place for you, so you’ll have to tell them why I’m there. You can give me your answer then.”

“There’s something else,” Amy said. “That Mr. Baley — he’s a detective. When he finds out I got picked up, he may not want me.”

Shakira laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you a secret — Lije Baley was a pretty good strip-runner in his day. I heard a little about his past from my uncle and another old-timer. He won’t hold that against you, but don’t say anything to the others about it.” Shakira took her arm as they walked toward the strips. “We’d better get home.”

Amy glanced at her. “You wouldn’t want to try another run?”

“Not a chance. You’ve had enough trouble, and you’ve got more to lose now. Maybe some dancing, but only if there’s room, and only on the slow strips.”

The sturdy walls of her Kingsbridge subsection surrounded Amy once more. She had nearly forgotten the coldness, the wind, the silence, the terrible emptiness of the Outside.

Yet she knew she would have to go Outside again. The comforting caves of steel would not always be a safe refuge. She would have to face the emptiness until she no longer feared it, and wondered how the City would seem to her then.

She waited by the apartment door for a few moments before slipping her key into the slot. Her parents might be asleep already, and she could not tell them about this event at breakfast in the section kitchen. She could tell them tomorrow night, and would try not to hope for too much.

The door opened; she went inside. Her parents were still awake, cuddling together on the couch; they sat up quickly and adjusted their nightrobes.

“Amy!” Her father looked a bit embarrassed. “You ‘re home early.”

“I thought I was late.”

He glanced at the wall timepiece. “Oh — I guess you are. I hadn’t noticed. Well, I’ll let it pass this once.”

Amy studied the couple. They seemed in a good mood; her mother’s brown eyes glowed, and her father’s broad face lacked its usual tenseness. She might not get a better chance to speak to them, and did not want her mother finding out from Mrs. Lister at breakfast that she hadn’t been at Debora’s.

“Um.” Amy cleared her throat. “I have to talk to you.”

Her father looked toward the timepiece again. “Is it important?”

“It’s very important.” She went to a chair and sat down across from them. “It really can’t wait. Please
 
—
just let me talk until I’m finished, and then you can say whatever you want.” She paused. “I wasn’t at Deb’s. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I left the subsection.”

Her father started; her mother reached for his hand.

“Not to run strips, I swear,” Amy added hastily. She lowered her eyes, afraid to look directly at them, then told them about her first meeting with Shakira, the run that had ended in disaster, the encounter on the street in Hempstead, what Shakira had said about the group that went Outside, and the challenge she had met that night by facing the open space beyond the City. She wasn’t telling the story very well, having to pause every so often to fill in a detail, but by the time she reached the end, she was sure she had mentioned all the essentials.

Her parents said nothing throughout, and were silent when she finished. At last she forced herself to raise her head. Her father looked stunned, her mother bewildered.

“You went Outside?” Alysha whispered.

“Yes.”

“Weren’t you terrified?”

“I was never so scared in my life, but I had to — I —”

Her father sagged against the couch. “You deliberately disobeyed us.” He sounded more exasperated than angry. “You lied and told us you’d be with Debora Lister. You left the subsection to meet a dubious young woman who’s a damned strip-runner herself, and —”

“She isn’t,” Amy protested … She doesn’t run any more, and she wouldn’t have with me if I hadn’t insisted — I told you. That was my fault.”

“At least you’re admitting your guilt,” he said … I let you have your say, so allow me to finish. Now she wants you to traipse around Outside with that group of hers. I forbid it — do you hear? You’re not to have anything more to do with her, and if she calls or comes here, I’ll tell her so myself. I’ll have to be firmer with you, Amy. Since you can’t be honest with us about your doings, you’ll be restricted to this apartment again, and —”