The history books called the dark years the Restructure. But those who lived through it knew death, famine, war, and disease. The Houses claimed ownership of the twelve stitched soldiers, and used them to destroy anyone who stood against their rule. That was the world’s second mistake.—2095
—from the journal of L.U.C.
Ihad no idea what to do.
So I made sure my wrist stitches didn’t show under my coat cuff and took a small handful of popcorn. Salty. Crisp. “Thank you.”
More pictures flashed while Welton plucked up a couple kernels, popped them in his mouth, and chewed, watching me the entire time.
The people around us were starting to squirm. I knew the feeling.
He turned his attention to Neds.
“How about you? Popcorn?” He held out the bag, shook it a little.
“No, thank you, sir,” Left Ned said.
“Nice night for a walk, isn’t it?” the head of House Yellow said. “Or morning, I suppose.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Right Ned said.
“The two of you are going to make it a short, quiet walk, don’t you think?” The man crunched through another handful of popcorn, then smiled. He looked like a cat that had just tipped over a bird’s nest.
“Yes, sir,” Left Ned said.
“Good. Enjoy yourself.” He took a few steps, the hulking undertaker next to him moving right along with him as if caught in his gravitational pull. Then Welton Yellow paused and glanced back at us. “Coffee’s not bad at the Jangle, I’m to understand.”
“Thank you, sir,” Right Ned said again.
The crowd moved in closer to Foster First, who—much to my surprise—posed for a few pictures with people before Welton indicated they should leave. A hole opened in the crowd for their passing like water flowing around a bubble of air.
“Son of a whore,” Left Ned exhaled.
“What? What did that mean?”
“Walk. I don’t like the attention we’re getting,” Right Ned said.
I took in the mood of the people around us. A lot of scowls, a few rude gestures.
“Get out of the way, shortlife,” a man said as he shoved past us.
In the past, people who were born nonstandard, like Neds, didn’t live as long as a more standard configured human. That changed as more and more people were born nonstandard and medical science advanced to deal with the mutations. But the derogatoryshortlifehad stuck.
I hated it.
I expected Neds to take offense with both fists, but he just tugged me back into the stream of pedestrians, up a flight of stairs with metal railing on either side, then switched back onto the second-level sidewalk to another flight of stairs.
“Why was the head of a House on the street before sunrise, eating popcorn?” I asked. “Come on. Doesn’t he have better things to do with his time?”
“Yes,” Right Ned said, “I’m sure he does. And I don’t like that walking this street when you and I just happen to be out for coffee is what he decided to do.”
“He couldn’t have known we were going to be here,” I said. “We didn’t know we were going to be here until a couple minutes ago.”
“He is technology,” Right Ned said. “He knows everything.”
If House Gray had cameras pointed at a hundred different locations—probably a hundred times more than what I’d seen, then the House that controlled technology must have a camera and every other kind of recording or sensing device connected to everything throughout the entire world.
“Okay. So he saw us leave the elevator, heard us talking about coffee, and came out to see us for himself. Why?”
