Life is seldom easy. Despite the evidence of the last couple of days, the gods of fate rarely go out of their way to help me, and they certainly hadn't here. The god in charge of 'giving Stark a break' was tied up in meetings, or taking a long weekend. We were looking up into a square well that was at least twelve feet deep. I'd realised that the Stable wall would be thick, but not that thick. The sides were absolutely featureless, with no handholds, ladder or elevator to be seen. At the top was another grille.
I let Alkland back down again and stood for a moment, head drooping. The pads were gone. Even if one of them had made it up here it would take hours to find, and it was far more likely that they were stuck fast to something down below. For a moment I felt very, very tired.
'So,' said Alkland cheerily, 'who's going up first?'
I looked up slowly, and saw that he was joking.
'You,' I smiled, and he laughed, and that was enough.
I got Alkland to stand with his feet a yard apart and angled slightly, to make him as firm a base as possible. He cupped his hands and I stepped into them. Placing my left foot lightly on his shoulder I checked my balance, and then quickly pulled the right up and planted it on his other shoulder, simultaneously straightening.
So far, so good. I was standing with my torso up in the well. The next bit was going to be a bastard, and knowing that Alkland wouldn't be able to hold me up indefinitely, I got to it.
'Hold my feet,' I said, and felt his hands clamp round my ankles. I let myself sway back so that my shoulders were leaning against the wall. Then I very carefully raised my right foot, pulling my knee as far into my body as possible. Alkland stumbled slightly and for a heart-stopping moment I thought I was going to drop down onto the ridge back first, but he regained his balance and altered his position so that he was bracing me in the right direction, my left foot now pushing against the top of his chest.
I reached down and took my right foot in my hand, and then very slowly pulled it up towards me. It was a struggle, but I just managed to bring it into the well. Once it was past the lip I planted it squarely onto the opposite wall and pushed hard. When I was as sure as I was going to be that I was adequately braced I pulled my other foot up. Carefully slipping that in and planting it next to the other one, I felt relatively secure for the first time. Slowly, arching my back, I wriggled my shoulders while pushing hard with my legs, trying to edge my back up the wall. From below I heard the sound of faint giggling.
'Shut the fuck up, will you?' I said, trying not to laugh. This isn't as easy as it looks.'
The tide began to turn, and I could feel my shoulders slowly raising above the level of my feet. After a while it became a little easier, and within a minute I was in a sort of sitting position, back straight against the wall and legs rigid in front of me. I negotiated myself round until my back was pressed into one of the corners, turning the well into a diamond, which would be easier to climb up. With one foot on each of the opposite walls, and getting what purchase I could with my hands, I began to ease my way up the well an inch at a time.
It took about half an hour. Twice I felt my back slipping and was sure I was going straight back down again, to land on top of Alkland's anxiously upturned face. By expanding my chest as far as possible I was able to halt the slide and continue, but by the time I got to the top my heart was beating at a dangerous rate and my legs were shaking violently, the muscles ready to give out. Angling my back so as to jam myself as best I could, I reached up and shoved the grille. It didn't give. Not even a little bit.
'Bastard,' I wailed quietly.
'How's it going? 'Alkland called up.
'Badly.'
'Good' he said optimistically. 'That's always been an encouraging sign so far.'
I realised there was something I could try, and reaching carefully into my pocket I pulled out the gun. I set the energy output to maximum diffusion, covered my face, and fired at the grille. There was a phut and a few droplets of molten metal sprinkled over me.
Even before I opened my eyes the increase in light told me it had worked. There was a hole in the grille about a foot in diameter through which sunlight was streaming, and a quiet whoop from below told me Alkland knew what had happened. A couple more phuts expanded the hole and I reached out and put one arm out, scrabbling to get some purchase. The other arm went out the other way and I manfully hauled my head out, followed by my shoulders. The rest was easy.
I rolled to one side and lay for a moment, panting. Around me all I could see was white stone and above me was the sky, the real sky. After a while I levered myself to a sitting position and looked around, feeling slightly dizzy. I was sitting at the bottom of a large and shallow depression, obviously designed to funnel rainwater towards the grille. The stone stretched for acres in every direction but one: behind me it came to an abrupt halt about two hundred yards away.
Dragging myself wearily to the hole, I called down to Alkland, Take your jacket off and wrap it round your hands!'
While he did so I took the microcable out and fed the end down to him. I wasn't terribly confident that this was going to work. The retractor in a microcable dispenser is strong enough to handle small loads. Alkland, though neither big nor fat, was a whole human being, and they were not designed with that kind of thing in mind.
'This is going to be touch and go' I said, and Alkland nodded, as if he had expected no less. 'As soon as you can, wedge yourself in.' He grabbed the end of the cable and wrapped it several times round his heavily padded hands.
I positioned myself over the hole, legs firmly planted either side, and flicked the retractor switch. For a moment it worked smoothly, pulling Alkland swiftly up until his head and shoulders were in the well. Then the soft humming started to veer towards a buzzing, and the rate of climb decreased markedly. Slowly Alkland spiralled higher until I could see one hand groping up for the edge of the grille. As his fingers scrabbled against it the retractor gave up the ghost with a fizzpt and I lunged down and grabbed the Actioneer's hand, nearly joining him in a quick ride back down to the bottom. The jacket slipped but I grabbed his wrist with my other hand and slowly hauled him up until his head and shoulders were through the hole. I helped him until he was out and then we both fell back in separate directions.
We lay on our backs for quite some time. It seemed to be the thing to do.
You know those thoughts you get sometimes, the ones where you know something's not right, that there's something you ought to be thinking about; that you can't quite put your finger on? And what happens is you forget about it, and then a bit later on it comes back to haunt you in a very big way?
For one brief second I had one of those.
I forgot about it.
I dozed off for a few minutes, lulled by hot stone and extreme tiredness, and when I came to Alkland was sitting nearby, gazing at his hands. Climbing to a more upright position I looked at the Actioneer, rather disturbed by what I saw. This was the first time I'd seen his face in anything; approaching normal light since the restaurant in the Powers twelve hours ago, and the change in that time was remarkable. It wasn't just that he looked exhausted: he looked very ill as well. His skin was extremely pale beneath the vestiges of his compulsory tan, and the patches under his eyes were dark and sallow. I coughed to signify that I was awake, and, startled, he turned to look at me, for a moment looking like a much younger and very troubled man. Then he smiled vaguely, and became just a worried person in his sixties.
'I've been to the edge' he said. 'It's a very long way down, you know. Are we going to have to dive off it, or something?'
I nearly choked laughing at this. Stable Neighbourhood is about eight hundred yards high. He smiled tentatively, as if suspecting that I might say of course we weren't going to dive, I was going to teach him how to fly. To put him out of his misery I pulled my vidiphone out.
'No,' I said. 'Hopefully we'll be leaving in comfort.'
I called Shelby's number in Brandfield Neighbourhood and after no more than five rings was rewarded by her beaming face.
'Ohmygod, Stark! How are you?'
'I'm fine. How's tricks?'
'They're good, Stark, they're like really ... where are you, Stark?'
'I'm on top of Stable Neighbourhood.'
'Oh my Guwaud . . .'
'I know, I know. Listen, Shelby. I need a big favour.'
'You've got it Stark, like, totally.'
'I need a lift.'
'Sure. Can do. That's affirmative. Completely.'
'One problem, Shelby.'
'Uh-huh? Work with me.'
'There's two of us.'
'No big whoop. It'll be way cosy, and I won't be able to take you so far, but it'll happen.'
I felt my entire body sag to the floor with relief.
'Shelby? You're a good person, and I value your friendship and support.'
'It's a mutual thing, Stark, it's a mutual thing. You're looking at a half hour here. Ciao!'
I put the vidiphone away. Alkland was looking considerably more relaxed.
'Who was that?'
'Friend of mine. She has a heliporter.'
'She sounds a little . . . intense.'
'She's fine. She's from Brandfield, that's all.'
Brandfield is a Neighbourhood for rich people, pure and simple. Every single adult in the Neighbourhood is either a doctor, lawyer, orthodontist or wife, and their beautifully poised daughters just float around, having parties, power shopping and waiting for their turn to be a doctor, lawyer or orthodontist's wife. Just under a third of the Neighbourhood's area consists of golf courses, and the competition to be the most exclusive club is unbelievably fierce. The top three won't let anyone at all be members.
Shelby is a hundred per cent Brandfield girl, but she has another side. Most of her friends would consider it outré to know how to work a watch, but she bats around on her heliporter like a wild thing, and even has some idea how it works, I suspect. She didn't seem totally convinced when I told her once it was magic, anyway. Some doctor, lawyer or orthodontist is going to find themselves with a bit more than they bargained for when the time comes.
The Actioneer shook his head.
'Never been there. Hardly been anywhere, in fact. Where is it?'
'Couple of Neighbourhoods away. She said half an hour but she's always just that little bit later than you'd expect.'
There was a pause before Alkland spoke.
'So we are going to make it, after all?'
'Looks that way. Bummer, eh?'
Things went silent again and I sat covertly watching the Actioneer, who was swaying slightly and obviously very tired but trying to stay awake. It looked like something was on his mind. After a moment he roused himself and turned to face me.
'Stark, when we do get off here, where will we go?'
We hadn't discussed the situation at all since his revelation on the raft, and this was a question I'd been expecting. For the first time it looked reasonably definite that we were going to carry on living, which meant that there were some issues which had to be addressed.
'Well, that's sort of up to you. My job was to find you, and take you back to the Centre.'
He nodded, smiling painfully.
'However,' I continued, 'I get the sense that you could maybe use a little time to reorientate yourself, or whatever. Also, there's something I think I should talk to you about. So there is an alternative, which is that we go back to Colour.'
'Is that where you live?'
'Yeah. Me and my cat. Centre will have no way of knowing we're out yet. A few hours either way won't make any difference. I'm a flexible person. It's your call.'
'If you wouldn't mind, if you really don't, I would value a little time before I go back. If that's all right.'
He looked so forlorn at that moment, so much like a lost child, that I nearly went ahead and asked him just what the hell was going on in his life. But you get a lot more sense out of people when they start talking by themselves, because you don't have to badger them, don't have to rely upon asking the right questions. So I didn't. I'm surprisingly gentle with my clients. I wish someone would be that nice to me.
'No problem. Look. We got about forty minutes to wait, I would guess. You look like you could do with some sleep. Why not have a little?'
'Yes Sleep is something I certainly do need. I don't think it will come, but I'll try.'
'Good.' It struck me again how pale he looked, how owl-like his tired eyes. 'Don't worry: I won't leave without you.'
He lay back on the stone, using his jacket as a pillow, and in under a minute was away. I lit another cigarette and stared up into the sky, waiting for the cavalry, considering the situation.
It wasn't at all clear what was going to happen when we got back to Colour. I was supposed to be taking Alkland back to the Centre: that was the job I'd been given, and to some guys, that would have been the job they were going to finish. But the fact that Alkland hadn't been snatched at all, that he'd made his own way here, that changed things a little for me.
I don't work for money, you see. I do what I want to do, or what's interesting, or what seems to be the right thing to do. That's what makes me good at this life. I follow my instincts, and generally they lead me in the right direction. Someone is usually grateful to me at the end of a job: it's just not always the people who asked me to do it in the first place. Somebody wins, somebody loses, and sometimes I get to choose which is which. The only person who never stands a chance of winning is myself, because there can be no victory for me, only future battles. Sometimes I wish that weren't so. But it is.
As it turned out Shelby was actually on time for once in her life, which was & damn good thing for us. Early, but not a moment too soon.
As Alkland slept I got up and walked over to the edge to have a look myself. The view from there was, well, a view really. And then some. The highest wall in The City is round Babel Neighbourhood, but that's a different sort of thing and it's a long way away. Babel is only three hundred yards across in either direction, but it's over a mile high. It's where people who love living in high buildings go to hang out. Some floors are offices, some residential, some hotels, some leisure complexes, there's a six-storey-high park and they have the most can-do elevators in the world.