Chapter 11:
Below Old Toronto was a dim and sagging place. Talon found himself at a small table near a restaurant that had rickety tables and chairs and food that smelled like it had come from a rusted printer. He surveyed the glass of water in front of him with suspicion. It was gray and dead. It would give him a way to ease his thirst, of that he was sure, but how would it taste?
I’ve had worse, I am sure of it, he thought as his hand wrapped around the glass, and he lifted it to his mouth. A grimace came up. Definitely had worse, but not by much. He settled the glass back down on the table and stole a look around.
Jessica said, “Did you know that, a long time ago, this part of the city was used by everyone?”
“No. You mean everyone lived below?”
Her head shook from side to side. “No, it was a sort of second city, and it was filled with fun things for people to do. But when the wars came and the changes in climate, the ones who could afford to live above forced the others, especially the immigrants, to come below.”
The place was dim and old, crumbling and depressing. The streets were thin and spidery, moving past buildings that were packed with people who all had gray skin and slumped bodies. The businesses were open, but few people seemed to have credits to spend in them.
A fight broke out as he watched and his spirits sank again.
Was this place even worth saving?
He saw tired faces and tired things everywhere he looked and his heart ached at the sight. Maybe Yori was right. The only way to do it was to get as many out of there and to other planets as possible. Whatever happened to this place, maybe it was deserved.
Jessica spoke. “I…I am scared, Talon.”
The soft admission raised his defenses and a sense of protectiveness. His eyes lifted to her face. She met his gaze with a direct one of her own. She said, “Not for myself, but for them. These people. They never deserved any of this.”
Talon took a deep breath. “I can see that. Why don’t they fight to make their lives better?”
“They don’t know how, mostly. They have been killed and sold and beaten down to the point that they believe that this is the life they deserve simply because they had the misfortune to be born below. A few make it into jobs that take them above for part of the day, and they think that is enough, and that having credits to feed their families and not have to pawn their children or their wives is enough. That as long as there is survival, that is enough.”
He asked, “Why do they not just leave for other planets?”
“They barely have enough credits to eat, Talon; how could they afford the fare off the planet?”
The question was couched in a gentle tone, but there was nothing gentle about the glint in her eyes. She was raging inside, and he understood something at that moment. Jessica cared deeply about the people around them, even those that were strangers. That she had fought against their oppression with everything that she had had, and she would die to help them if it came to that.
But why?
Why would she do that?
They were not her people, exactly. She owed no loyalty to them.
He studied her face for a moment. Humans were odd creatures, always working off whims and ideals and faded philosophies that should have died when their planet had failed all those centuries ago. Every time he met one, somewhere in the universe he was staggered by their capacity to only go with emotion and to never understand why they fought.
An old man staggered by, his gray coveralls hanging off his withered body. His eyes, red and bloodshot, peered at them and then he staggered onward. Jessica stood. “We have to go. We have to get to the meeting place.”
Talon stood. The old man peered at them from a doorway and Talon frowned. The old man darted into the door of the building he had stood in front of and a hard knot filled Talon’s stomach. He glanced at Jessica and saw that she was already moving. Disquiet filled Talon. He glanced back at the building, but the old man was gone.
He set those misgivings aside and started after Jessica.
