Black Marion

34

Not long after Alex had arrived on the Ground, it was decided that Operation Day would be scheduled for early November. This gave the resistance a little over a month to make the final preparations, but with the Sky's aggressions coming down heavier than ever before, there was no time to stall. As they had planned years ago, in the first week of October, rumors went sent from the underground, a slow ripple toward the Upper Sky: whispers of the true nature of the System, anonymous testimonies from those who had survived the Tag. The timing was deliberate, taking into consideration spread rate and the suppression efforts of the State. To minimize the risk of war, it was essential to ride on the momentum of moral disgust; therefore, the high peak of the rumors was meant to coincide with the date of the operation, when the System would fall and all would be unveiled.

Quickly, Alex found a rhythm to her new daily life. It was largely absorbed in her port machines, given the limited time she had to finalize Marion. In the first two weeks, she left the shelter only once, to connect to the network from a higher port and to move Marion temporarily to her offline domain, so that she could work on her from the disconnected underground. During that trip, signs of violence littered the Ground—nervous streets, people rushing their daily routes, sharp jitters from any mechanical sound. It was the relentless Sky patrols, black, weaponized falcons hovering within sight through every ten minutes: if the populations of the Sky and the Ground were any more balanced, Alex doubted she would have been able to take two steps without being caught.

Meanwhile, on the personal end of things, she found camaraderie with Bennie, MM, and even Kai. They often had dinner together in the shelter mess hall, or in someone's private room. Victor had drifted, things being as they were with his son Peter, but the others provided Alex with an honest daily companionship she had not felt in years. No fear. No lies. No tension—none of that awful stiffness whenever Haneul or Vaughn came to mind.

Vaughn, Alex still saw daily to drop off his food and drink. They had moved him to a room equipped with a toilet, a small and unexpected upgrade. Because they kept his identity a secret, he was left alone. Sometimes, Alex would find some stray, unfamiliar faces clustered in front of the door, but at the sight of her, they would tame or scatter. Someone must have warned the recruits about Alex, because not a single one dared bother her.

As for the man behind the door, he rarely spoke either. He thanked Alex. This was it. No questions, no apologies, no otherwise begging her to stay or asking after his fate. He seemed to have resigned himself, and though disturbed, Alex was not in the proper mind to confront the Regent about what he was thinking.

Similarly with Haneul—the doctor was almost equally quiet when he was around Alex, which was not often, as according to Bennie, he had returned to his work at the clinic. He seemed to live in the shelter, however, and Alex rarely slept until ascertaining one way or another that Haneul had returned safely to his room. It was surreal to know Haneul was a few steps away every night—and it was painful to feel the gap of distance that lingered between them. But neither of them, it seemed, had summoned the courage to close it.

One morning, early October, Alex was dropping off her emptied breakfast tray in the mess hall when she was approached by an older, dark-skinned man. She'd seen this man around since her first day down, so it surprised her only faintly when the man addressed her by name.

"Alex, right?"

"Yes. And you are?"

The man smiled, the gesture moving his ears. "Stefan Hines. I've heard about you. Seen you around too, so I thought it'd be polite to introduce myself to the woman who made it all possible."

"Stefan," said Alex, remembering the name from '83. "Bennie's told me about you too. You're the one holding the ends together down here, aren't you?"