I frown. Doeseveryoneknow my name?
Beckly must interpret my expression, because he says, “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you aren’t aware of your reputation.The best gunner the Academy’s seen in decades. That’s what they’ve been saying in all the recent draft coverage. NewsNet’s having a field day with it. Of course, there was that whole scandal with your admission test, and the rumors about your—ah—involvementwith the Academy’s president. Not that I believe any of that.”
“Van,” Mira warns.
“You’d have to be more than a little desperate to sleep with that old potato,” Beckly prattles on. “Unless—oh wait. Maybe you’re into that sort of thing?”
I can feel Lament’s eyes flick in my direction. I wait, hopefully, for Mira to crash the rover. She doesn’t. “No.”
“Right, of course not. Still”—Beckly gives another winning smile—“it does bring up some interesting questions. Howdidyou pass the entry test anyway?”
“Would you like,” I ask coldly, “a demonstration?”
Mira, with the honed sense of a mother redirecting a troublesome child, nudges Beckly in the leg. “Am I going the right way?”
Beckly side-eyes her. “Don’t know, doll. You’re the nav.”
“I’m also driving. Check the map for me?”
A gusty sigh from Beckly. “You’re lucky to have me, you know that? I don’t mind picking up your slack, I really don’t, but anyone else would complain.”
“So to be clear, that’s not what you’re doing now?”
I choke back a snort. This time, Beckly’s smile is tight. “Of course not.”
We round a corner and nearly crash into a man brandishing an ice cream cone like he intends to duel someone with it. Mira slams the brakes (Caspen could take some pointers), and not a moment too soon—ice cream man isn’t alone. The street is packed. Or, well,morepacked. There must be thousands of people here, plus a smattering of extraterrestrial species, many of whom are waving yellow flags and holding signs that say things likeTHE FUTURE IS KNOWNandHE SPEAKS, WE HEAR.
Beckly gives a low whistle. “The Determinists are really showing up in force today.”
“And the Randomists,” Mira adds, pointing to a similar yet distinct segment of the crowd on the park’s opposite end. All their signs say the same thing:SHOW US THE SIMULATION.
We exit the rover, and I’m instantly glad I have my ray gun, even if it isn’tmyray gun. The crowd isn’t aggressive per se, but there’s an energy that brings to mind thoughts of fire and gasoline. One spark is all it’ll take. People are talking, chanting, jumping up and down. There’s a magmor (a scaly, goblin-like species) standing on a platform with a loudspeaker, smacking his lips and grinding his teeth. Magmors don’t have tongues, so their language relies heavily on grunting and facial gyrating.
“What’s he saying?” I ask Lament.
Lament frowns. “How should I know?”
“Because you know everything.” When he just looks at me, I halt. “Hang on. You mean to tell me that you—Mr. You-should-be-glad-I-care-to-study-beyond-my-required-field—don’t speak magmorian?”
He seems put off. “Magmorian is a non-lexical dialect. Of course I don’t speak it. Also, stop looking so delighted.”
“I’ll ask Jester,” I say. “He’ll be able to translate.”
When Jester and Vera find us in the throng, Jester does indeed translate, running the audio through a program in his visor.He’s saying, six hundred and five, six hundred and four. It’s a countdown.
“Hear that, Lament?” I motion magnanimously. “Jester says it’s a countdown.”
“A countdown to what?” Lament asks Jester.
Jester scratches his neck.I don’t know.
Lament glances at me.
“Hush,” I say.
“You hear that?” Lament mocks. “Jester doesn’t know.”
The rest of the Sixth arrives in groups of two and four, accompanied by the remaining members of the Fifty-Seventh. As a group, we push towardthe front of the crowd and begin doing reconnaissance. Lament asks a random passerby what everyone’s waiting for, but she only says, “It’s time,” in this eerie I’m-telling-a-prophecy voice before scuttling away.
