Bright's Light (26 page)

The urgency of her task so consumed her that Bright barely noticed the PS staff, led by the staggering, twitching commander, until the mass of men in black was upon them.

“Uh, Bright?” said Fon.

Bright finished taping one of Grassly’s wrists, then looked up and took in the scene around her. The commander’s head wobbled on his neck, and his hand jerked spasmodically against his red badge. The PS officers surrounding him had their releasers out, awaiting his orders.

Bright got to her feet and sighed. “Let me guess. By order of the Deciders, we have been released from our contracts and you would like to thank us for our service?”

The commander swayed as one knee buckled, then righted himself. “And we would like to congratulate you in advance for coming back better than ever at some point in the future,” he gasped.

“You’ve got a good memory,” whispered Fon in Bright’s ear.

“Thanks,” said Bright.

The bots trilled in agreement.

Bright stared straight into the dataglasses of the man who was so clearly coming apart, and was exactly the kind of person who should be a target of the releasers, and yet had managed to get the rest of the PS staff focused on everyone else. She had to admire his technique.

“It’s really light out,” she said. “You should take your glasses off and live a little.”

“By order of the Board of Deciders—” he said, grunting out the words before she could cut him off.

“I can see what’s happening to you. It’s not just you. It’s all of us. But we have a chance. At least, we might. Take your glasses off and find out.”

“By rorder rof,” he began again, his words as garbled as his nervous system.

“There is good news and bad news,” Bright announced, loud enough for all the PS officers to hear. “Which do you want first?”

“Tell them the good news first,” said Fon. “No one likes to wait.”

Bright nodded. It was sound advice.

“We can have a new start,” she said.

A murmur rose from the crowd.

“Is that like coming back?” asked a voice.

“Better than ever?” said another.

“Now hit them with the bad news,” said the unsuspecting Fon.

“There is no coming back better than ever. The Board of Deciders are gross beyond belief and are all dead. The Store is falling apart and so are we. Our only chance is to get this man—” she pointed to Grassly’s swaddled body “—to the Natural Experience and onto the ship he has waiting to rescue us.”

More murmuring from the assembled PS staff. Many of them were showing signs of failure, and Bright felt sad for them. And for herself. Life inside the Store really wasn’t much fun anymore.

“The House of It’s still okay, though, right?” asked Fon. “We’re still on track for an awesome promotion?”

Bright patted her dressing-mate’s shoulder. “No,” she said. “It’s not. And we’re not.”

Fon gasped like she’d just taken a punch. “Ugh. Your bad news/good news balance needs work.”

“We escape together or we die together. You can take off
your glasses and let the light in, or you can release us and that will be the end for all of us.”

“I’m getting releaser elbow,” said a PS officer. He slid his releaser into its holster. “I’ve had enough.”

Another said he’d been on shift for too long and hadn’t seen any credits for all the overtime, then he, too, put his releaser away.

“A new start?” asked the commander.

Bright had to strain to understand him. “Yes, but we don’t have a lot of time. If you take off your glasses, you will get knocked out for a minute or so, but you’ll be fine. Then we’ll lead everyone to the ship.”

Bright supposed she could lead the PS staff to the ship without enlightening them, but she didn’t entirely trust them. It was much safer for them to get a dose of the lights.

“Can I be fixed?” asked the commander.

She didn’t know if he could be fixed. She didn’t know if any of them could be fixed. Maybe they would all die, filled with uncertainty and fear. Then again, maybe everything would be awesome where they were going.

Hope. That’s what she was supposed to be spreading here.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s possible that you will be fixed. At least there’s a chance. If we stay here, there’s no chance.”

That did it. All the PS officers holstered their releasers.

“Maybe you could drop those?” suggested Bright.

The releasers clattered to the ground. Several of the officers reached hesitantly for their dataglasses.

“Are the lights nice?” asked one.

“My dataglasses have always been a little tight,” said another.

“I like lights,” said a third.

“When you take off your glasses,” Bright said, “you will feel funny for a little while, but then everything will be different. Everything will be better. And we’ll all go to the ship together and escape.” She didn’t know what else to say to encourage them.

“May I?” said the commander.

“Of course.”

Bright hoped he wasn’t going to tell all his men to pick the releasers back up, but some part of her knew he wouldn’t. He looked as done as the PS officer with releaser elbow.

“Officers,” said the commander. “It has been an honour working with you in service to the Deciders. You are the finest team of personal support staff this Store has ever produced.”

Sniffles sounded among the men.

“Now it’s time for the next team-building challenge, and we will see what the future brings.”

“You’ve been a great commander,” cried a voice in the crowd.

“The best!” added another.

“Thank you,” said the commander.

There was a half-hearted round of hip-hip-hoorays that died out before it could really get going.

“Okay, men. On your mark.”

The officers stood as straight as they were able, which wasn’t very straight.

“Get set!” The commander’s voice was now strong and clear. It gave Bright the chills.

The officers raised their right hands beside their foreheads.

“Remove your glasses!”

All the PS officers tore off their dataglasses at the same time. They sighed at the same time. They fell at the same time.

As they went down, Bright saw the commander slowly raise his own shaking hand.

“I hope you’re right about this,” he said. Then he took off his glasses and joined his men.

“Me too,” said Bright.

Before the limp sprawl of PS staff began to stir, Bright took one of Grassly’s arms and Fon took the other. Bright directed the bots to move under his legs to support them. They began to carry him toward the ship, joining the Store-wide migration that was now in full swing.

They reached the Natural Experience with the last wave of migrators. Everyone moved with a shuffling, dazed, eye-rolling relentlessness. The enlightened, perhaps because there were so many of them, displayed none of the uncertainty that their earlier counterparts had. They didn’t crawl headfirst into immovable objects or head in the wrong direction. They started out crawling, but soon got up and walked. They kept pace with one another and stepped carefully over those who fell. Most of those who went down got back up, but not all. Perhaps the light was too much for them.

The migrators muttered to themselves until the mutter became a whispered chant.

“Moving on,” they said. “Time to go. Find the light.”

The sound gave Bright the creeps at first, but eventually she and Fon joined in. At least it took their minds off the difficulty of keeping Grassly’s tightly wrapped body balanced atop the two bots. “Moving on,” they muttered in time with their footsteps. “Time to go.”

They trudged through the unstaffed gate of the Natural Experience and onto the dirt path. When they reached the skinny tree, they turned left.

Pinkie’s and Peaches’ wheels weren’t made for dirt, and they spun and bogged down when they encountered rocks or ditches. Finally, Bright told Fon to stop.

“The bots are getting stuck. They’ll be able to move better without any weight on them. We’re going to have to carry him ourselves.”

Fon, her perfect face tired and streaked with sweat and dirt, seemed to wilt at the thought.

Bright looked down at Grassly, nearly obscured by layers of tape and fabric. He had not moved since he’d fallen. She refused to consider that he might be gone. She’d seen him run. No one who ran that fast could die from a few lights.

“Can we help?”

Bright started at the voice. A sensitive and a PS officer stood near Grassly’s feet, which now lay in the dirt. The officer’s face looked naked and new without his dataglasses. Bright blinked. The pairing was so unexpected. Sensitives weren’t important enough to be guarded by PS staff. Then again, no one was guarding anyone anymore.

“Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse. She and Fon hadn’t slept in nearly two days. She was probably losing collagen at a record rate, due to sleep deprivation. Her skin was going to pay the price for this experience.

The sensitive, hideous in wide-wale cords and a mustard checked sweater, and the PS officer, tall, fit, with lines etched on his forehead and cheeks where his dataglasses had
pressed into his face, each picked up a leg. They swayed a bit, but kept their grip.

Together, the four of them carried Grassly across the dirt until they reached the place where the ship’s door pressed against the skin.

“Oh,” breathed the sensitive and the officer when they spied the round door, the walkway leading into the ship, and the thousands of people lined up, waiting for their turn to climb the ramp.

Their little group stood to one side of the doorway and watched the Citizens United Inside the Store file two by two into the ship. Because everyone except Grassly, Bright, and Fon was enlightened, they didn’t appear to be in any hurry. Bright, however, thought she heard noises emanating from outside the skin and wished her fellow citizens would pick up the pace a little. She’d never imagined that there were so many of them!

When, finally, the end of the orderly line reached them, they fell in behind the last pair, two productives from Nutri Enrichments who smelled like chalk. As they reached the ramp, a loud sucking noise arose, as though a giant with too much saliva was trying to keep it in his mouth.

“Hurry!” said Bright.

Movement on her right caught her eye, and she saw a gap open between the skin and the frame of the door. Dust swirled on the ground before being sucked outside the skin, and a grey-red cloud seeped inside.

She felt a tug on her arm. She looked down at Grassly, who calmly met her eyes with his own. He pulled his arm
away and because she was surprised, she let it go. With great effort, he mimed putting his hand over his nose and mouth.

She nodded.

“Cover your mouths! And don’t breathe!” she yelled. The sucking noise grew even louder. The fury of Earth’s poisoned atmosphere was on its way inside the Store.

They were near the top of the ramp when someone inside screamed, “Close the door!”

For a split second, Bright thought the round door would slam shut in front of them. They would be left behind.

“Wait!” she yelled, trying not to take in any air.

“Wait! Wait for everyone!” the cry sounded all around the ship, from hundreds of mouths.

“Wait for everyone!”

Then Bright and Fon and Grassly and the sensitive and the PS officer were inside, and the door of the ship winked shut.

Fon and Bright lowered Grassly gently to the floor. The sensitive staggered away, clearly unused to physical labour. The PS officer had a coating of red dust on his face. He wiped at it, then fell sideways. He would have crashed to the floor, but a gamer and a productive caught him.

When she had caught her breath, Bright looked around the ship she’d thought was the House of It. The light grey space was vast, and yet somehow also cozy. It seemed to expand to fit the thousands of people who now stood and sat inside. Calm and peace emanated from every surface, and the lighting did great things for everyone’s skin tone.

A word popped into her head: “Heaven.” She had no idea what it meant, but it seemed to fit.

Bright looked down at Grassly.

“We better cut him out of that suit,” said Fon. “His skin is going to need major intervention. Luckily, I’m amazing at skin care.”

“That is lucky,” agreed Bright.

Pinkie and Peaches, who’d beetled onto the ship just in front of Bright and Fon, extended their shears and began to cut carefully through the layers of tape that bound Grassly. Pinkie hardly nicked him at all.

Bright realized that she felt as excited to see Grassly emerge from his cocoon as she ever had to receive a new piece of gear. Maybe even more excited.

“Hey, babe,” said a low voice in her ear.

She started. Slater was leaning in so close that she grazed his cheek with her nose when she turned her head.

“Whoa,” he said. “Careful there! My skin’s just starting to look good again.”

Bright looked at him carefully. He did look good. Younger. More rested.

“I’ve been working out,” he continued. “You want to feel my abs?”

“Not really,” said Bright. Instead, she got to her knees and began to work Grassly’s limbs free.

“I’ll feel your abs!” said Fon. “I love abs!”

When Bright pulled the helmet from Grassly’s head, she saw that his burn was more severe than she’d thought. She could feel heat radiating from him.

She held out a hand and Pinkie was ready with a soothing cloth, which all dressing-room bots kept in great abundance in their storage compartments.

Bright put the cloth to Grassly’s cheek. He gasped. He was alive.

“Red is a good colour on you,” she said.

“It will be some time before I’m well enough to drive.”

She moved the cloth to his forearm, which was even more badly burned than his face.

“So you’re going to have to get us out of here,” he said.

Bright’s hand froze momentarily, then she kept applying soothing lotion to the red skin.

“If you move me over near the pilot’s seat, I’ll show you how to execute the launch function.”

“Okay,” said Bright. “I can do that.”

Grassly gave another little gasp when Pinkie and Peaches dabbed at him with more soothing cloths.