The Line

Almost dead

"What do you know?" Juan whispered. It had to be dangerous for his heart to beat this fast. It had to be. "What did you see?"

As if sensing the mood change, Flynn abruptly ceased whistling. "You haven't asked any questions," he said too loudly, with an unnatural calm. "Angelle, is it? People tend to be much more curious than you are. They want to know things. Like where the hell I got this boat, for one. You see, the court provides for us, which is kind of nonsensical since they make us disappear after a year--"

"Flynn," Juan interrupted. He was about to add, "Angelle was telling me something you might want to hear," but she shot him a look so wild with fear the words died on his lips. She was so afraid that he was afraid. Would sharing her courtroom experience be dangerous? Was that it? Or had she seen something so awful--

"I'm not going to go off again," Flynn said. "I'm sorry about that, Angelle. I just thought--I'm sorry."

Angelle didn't reply--or maybe words just failed her. Her face was tight, reddened by the sky, and her mouth clamped. Angry? Nervous? Afraid? Juan couldn't tell anymore. Her eyes made him think of those of his judge, in the court: reflecting little, almost dead.

He might have called for Flynn then, but her dead face was somehow more frightening than her terrified one--and a selfish part of him wanted to be the first to know what she'd seen. It was Flynn who'd shown Juan the ropes, giving Juan everything they'd end up owning in the Line. Flynn who'd found a way out. Flynn who made up the theories. Flynn who looked over both their shoulders. Juan wanted to do something on his own, for once.

So he said nothing.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry. That was some other Flynn, but not me. Not me." Flynn's cheeks burned. The continuing lack of reply--even from Juan--only made him speak faster, louder. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. Anything! For instance, we don't use money here. We use trading slips. The darker the slip, the more valuable it is. Some strips can be traded for a whole commorancy, but those are usually passed down by the owners just before their Retrial. Or stolen. That's another thing: you don't want to do anything bad here, you'll get plugged. Or you can do the bad thing and not get caught, but that's rare. You'd have to time it right, and you'd have to be lucky. And you'd have to live with it, of course..."

Flynn didn't stop talking and apologizing and explaining until they reached town. By then, Angelle was all set to part ways with them, and she probably knew more than she needed to--that was, if she'd been listening. It had been hard to tell.

A few passersby stared as she took shaky steps on the dock, wanting to get a good look-see of the flashie. She looked back at each of them. The stopping and staring was no more.

Flynn noticed her frown.

"People here--I guess people everywhere--avoid looking strangers in the eye," he said. "It's seen as awkward. I don't understand it, personally. Why should any form of connection be awkward? And that's what it is, isn't it? The first contact. Maybe the person who caught your eye that one time will determine the course of your entire life. Maybe, you know..." Juan looked at him. He was rambling, and that was bad, so he simply faded out.

Ignoring Flynn, Angelle moved away from the two of them.

"Goodbye," Flynn and Juan told her, at the same time. Flynn waved. Even the wave was uncomfortable to watch.

"Goodbye," Juan repeated.

They locked eyes for a moment. Then she headed in the fish market's general direction, blending into a throng  before completely disappearing.

Flynn coughed.

Once he'd cleared his throat, he said in a low voice, "We should set out now." It wasn't such a terrible idea to make it to the forcefield ahead of time, and he really wanted to forget this whole debacle. Of course, if it were possible, he wouldn't mind forgetting the Line itself... but that wasn't possible.

"I know," Juan said.

"Coming?"

"I just need to walk around a bit. This is the last time I'll be here and I need to..."

Flynn nodded, although he didn't understand (and actually kind of loathed) Juan's longing for the stinking Line.

"Give me ten minutes," Juan said.

"Do you want me to come?"

"No," Juan said. "I want to do this alone."

"All right," Flynn said tightly. "Whatever. "

But Juan was already moving out of earshot, splashing puddles up into the air with his feet. There was only one thought on his mind.

Where is she?