2582 turned into 2583, and as the winter began to thaw, so too did the past six years of distance between Alex and the Ground. She talked most frequently with Bennie between their monthly meetings, through these nondescript communication devices provided by MM—MM, whose nickname was short for Martin Martins, who liked sugared tea better than alcohol and kept a mutt named Sandia, which meant watermelon. It was not long before she'd established a sense of friendship with the five she'd met that first November night.
On the technical end of things, there was progress. Her motive behind insisting on these monthly meetings was not to embed herself unwelcomed into Haneul's life, but to show them all what could be. By January, Alex had refined the scorch code to an undetectable hour-long procedure and taught Bennie the full operation. By February, the two had a working algorithm for new routes for the clinic supplies, which determined which locations to hit, at what times, and for what items—all optimized to keep suspicions and risk at a minimum. By March, a new clinic was back in fast business.
News of Haneul's return from the Sky had spread. So too did tales of his severed Tag. To stay hidden and anonymous, the clinic band didn't intervene in the circulation of rumors, which evolved into some grandiose tales of a 'chosen one', a savior, from the oppression of the Sky. According to Victor and his barkeeps, some people savored the hope. Others derided it as inciting retribution from the Sky. Most wrote it off as an impossible story. But whatever the Ground believed, it spread whispers of the doctor like wildfire.
Even anonymously masked by this title, so much attention made it more dangerous for Haneul to move around. Come March, Alex opted not to wait for her pick-up at midground. The night before they were scheduled to meet, she went down to the Ground on her own. Nobody paid the raggedly hooded wanderer much attention, and by midnight, she arrived at the new clinic building in Sector 11, on the fifth floor of a stack of cheap barbershops and salons.
The space was smaller than the apartment building of 2576. Alex would have expected the lot to keep their heads down after the uprooting last September, but the lobby room was cramped with patients even at the late hour. She worried to see so many vulnerable and unfamiliar faces drifting in and out of this safe haven, though Bennie had assured her many times over that their security precautions were different now. This night, she could barely hear her own thoughts over the wailing of two babies.
A young man at the front desk was speaking to an elderly woman. As soon as they finished, Alex took her place.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for Haneul."
"What's your business?"
"Personal. I'm a friend."
The young man narrowed his eyes. "You can't just call him, then?"
Alex hesitated briefly. "My phone is dead."
"Can I have your name then? Number and address too, please."
Alex sighed quietly. It was good that they were being careful about visitors, but she wasn't entirely sure how to format a Ground address. "Marie Davis," she said. "Six one, eight eight four..."
"Hey."
She paused and turned at the familiar voice. Approaching the desk was Kai, dressed in blue scrubs. He exchanged a nod with the man at the front desk and said, "I've got her. Thanks, Carl." He gestured for Alex with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. "Come with me."
She followed Kai toward the stairs at the back.
"We weren't expecting you," said the man once they were out of earshot. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes. I thought I'd save Haneul the trouble of escorting me. There is something I wanted to talk to him about, with the new supply routes."
"He's working on a kid right now. Might be another hour."
YOU ARE READING
Black Marion
Science FictionShe woke up on the 999th floor of the Skyworld's richest tower to luxury, affection, and the perfect life. The problem is that Sasha - if that is really her name - can't remember if any of it is real. Vaughn Scio, the powerful regent who claims to b...