Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) Read online

  "You there!" a Cardinal iPol drone sounded out over my shoulder, interrupting my reminiscence. "Identify!" it ordered.

  I slipped into the shadow of a building and observed. It was best to keep your head down and carry on with your day. But having just remembered some of my father's history lessons, I felt compelled to witness the system at work.

  Prove me wrong. Make me believe the hype.

  I didn't recognise the Citizen, which was a relief in itself. There would be a reason why the iPol had pulled this man over. They never acted without cause or direction from their Cardinal controller. This man had done something, either now or recently, to attract their attention.

  My eyes darted up to the street-cams, noticing several were pointed in the direction of the confrontation. It would be a good time to carry out any rule breaking right now. The cams were too busy following the proceedings to notice a Citizen disobeying the rules off to the side.

  Shame I didn't have anything planned.

  I shifted on my feet as the young man, Caucasian by the looks, turned slowly to face the first of the drones.

  "I haven't done anything," he protested in Anglisc. A useless statement. It wouldn't sway iPol one bit.

  "Prepare for eScan," the first drone advised. "Legs shoulder width apart, hands at sides. Do not move."

  I let a slow breath of air out. The man was shaking.

  My eyes flicked over the disinterested faces of people walking past. Parting like water around the scene in the middle of the lane. Cars had stopped or been diverted by the second drone, and the timely change of traffic lights at the end of the street. The Cardinal controlling these drones would be organising this little sector of Wánměi like a chessboard. A game of control. Of oppression.

  My hands fisted as the green laser slowly rolled over the man's eyeball, his chin resting on the edge of the iPol drone's outstretched hand. The laser simply risen from within its arm. They carried everything they needed. A nice bit of tech, wrapped up in a shining metal case, made to look passably human.

  I blinked slowly as the hum and buzz followed, and then Shiloh announced the guy's identity.

  "Citizen Carl Andrew Smith," she said over the drone's communicator. "Warrant for arrest issued. Test failure."

  I stopped breathing. Even some of those people walking past lifted their faces from their vid-screens and glanced at the doomed man. The second drone was having none of that.

  "Move along. Nothing to see. Behave accordingly."

  According to the Overseers.

  "No!" the man argued, as the first drone simply reached forward in lightning speed and secured his wrist in a manacle. His second hand was snatched from behind his back in a move you'd believe the metallic iPol couldn't effect. But they were more nimble than humans. Their joints not restricted by nature and evolution.

  "Do not resist," is all the drone said. What else was there to say? We had no rights. We had no defence. We obeyed.

  Or we were taken.

  sPol drones rounded the corner to assist in the arrest. There were now eight drones on the little street and my time was up. I'd pass an iRec inspection, but so close to the break-in at Wántel would mean the Cardinals were on high alert. Any minor defect in my identity could be caught. I couldn't risk it. Not with what rested in my jacket pocket.

  I gave the convicted man one last look, determined to find his name on iRec and follow up with his family discretely. If he provided their main income, then they would be in dire straits. How could you consume your rations, if you couldn't afford them?

  I slipped out of the shadows, pulling my cellphone from my trouser pocket and started to blindly scroll through my daily feeds. Half of which I ignored. It was all for show. The sPol drones were eyeing every single person on the street.

  By the end of the lane I gave one final surreptitious look around the area, convinced I was unobserved what with the scuffle occurring back up the street. The man's screams cut off abruptly as I mounted some rickety steps to the side, a silencing injection having no doubt been administered. The last thing I heard as I left the lane completely was the ominous sound of the sPol van rolling over tarseal. The electronic whine of its motor, mixing in with the high pitched beep of its siren. I didn't hang around to see the flash of red lights.

  I stood still at the top of the stairs, taking in the refuse of an off-grid residence building such as Zhang Yong's, sucking in air as I tried to settle my mind. For some reason the arrest on the street was leaving me imbalanced. Sweat, ever present, had started to chill on my skin, even in this heat. I reached up to brush loose hair from my face and noticed my hand was shaking. I moved the trembling fingers in front of my face and just stared.

  It took a lot to unnerve me. And it's not as if I haven't seen arrests on the street before. I didn't even know that man. He was a nobody. A Citizen who'd failed his test, either because he couldn't afford the prescribed rations, or the replica to fake it. In any case, he deserved what he got.

  This may well be touted as an ideal society, but you have to be prepared.

  He hadn't been. His fault. No one else's.

  I clenched my hand, willing the twitching to stop. Closing my eyes briefly, I sucked in a deep, cleansing breath of air, and felt the sticky heat coat my throat as it went down. It was said all of the world was super-heated, but some not quite as hot as here. I wouldn't know. But my father did. He was the one who had told me.

  By the time my eyes had reopened, the shaking had stopped. With grim determination I raised my hand and knocked on the pitted, paint-peeled door before me. The half rubbed out sign hanging at an angle on its surface said, "Staffroom" in Wáitaměi.

  Sometimes the simple distractions worked best. Drones, even Cardinal operated ones, had difficulty deciding if the sign was false or not. Without entering the room, you just couldn't tell it was a home.

  The door creaked open and a kid of about five stared up at me out of a grubby face and ripped and worn clothes.

  "Hello," I said in Wáitaměi. "Is your daddy home?"

  The dark eyes blinked slowly, as he took in my pristine outfit. Citizen appropriate, but clearly not from his side of the tracks. I watched as he made this observation and came to a conclusion. I had money. Money they needed.

  "Please wait, Citizen," he advised in achingly correct Anglisc. If the Overseers were listening, they'd be proud.

  I nodded my consent and purposely stared at my cellphone screen, knowing the response was expected. The door shut quietly and a lock engaged. My head came up and I automatically assessed the obstacle in front of me. Not that I intended on breaking down Zhang Yong's door. It was just habit. Something I'd done since I was that child's age.

  A few moments later the door reopened and an older girl stood on the other side. Thirteen maybe. Looked like her father.

  "Citizen Carr," she greeted with a soft smile. No dullness to her eyes. She was of age to consume rations. Zhang Yong was doing his best to make sure his children did not follow the same path as his wife.

  "Good morning, Citizen Yeh," I greeted, inclining my head slightly. "Will your father see me?"

  "Of course, Citizen. You are a good friend to the Yeh Family. You are most welcome here."

  I noticed she didn't say, "in our home." The standard greeting. Even in an off-grid location ears could be listening. Zhang Yong had taught his children well.

  I followed the slight figure through the doorway, waiting patiently while she bolted the door. There were three deadlocks. One thick chain. And a metal bar that fell into place across the entirety of the entrance. No electronic locking mechanism. No eScanner access. Old school. Safe from the average intruder. But I'd hazard a guess a drone could bend that rod, snap that chain, and pick those locks with blunt force.

  She smiled shyly up at me as she walked past down the narrow hallway, unadorned with picture frames or artwork. Just a simple sign that said, Be a model Citizen! Wash your hands. My lips twitched at the obvious staffroom message. Zhang Yong wasn't t
aking any risks if someone stopped at his front door and looked inside.

  We rounded a corner and the scenery changed. Potted plants and brightly coloured seat cushions, family photos in various sizes, children's finger painting and more adept art dotted the walls. The furniture was well worn, but clean. The floor linoleum but scattered with roughly woven mats. The smell of incense wafted on the air, mixed in with the scent of aniseed, cinnamon, garlic and chilli. A second daughter was stirring something delightful in a wok on a gas hob off to the side.

  And in the corner sat Zhang Yong, in front of one of the most up-to-date computer systems that could still function offline.

  I bowed in greeting. Zhang Yong just smiled tranquilly.

  "Lena," he said, not bothering to stand. He had bad legs. Injured during the Uprising. I never asked how. He never offered an explanation. "How may I help you?" he asked in Wáitaměi.

  I glanced around the small space and took in his family. The wife was obviously in the one big bed in the only adjoining room. Shut away from sight and docilely quiet. My eyes took in the well stocked shelves above the makeshift kitchen. The cool air softly blowing from a functioning air-con unit. The colourful picture-books the son flicked through at the small Formica topped table. The new shrine to Buddha that hadn't been there the last time I visited.

  My gaze landed on the clothing the children wore. Noticing, belatedly, that the rips were self made, the wear purposeful, but the items clean and of good quality.

  I'd been a fool to think Zhang Yong would remain impartial. His wife's illness, dependency, was costly. Replicas you could purchase on the black market at a considerably lower price than rations. It seemed insane, but nothing about Wánměi made any sense. Zhang Yong's wife could not survive on replicas. Even if she wanted to. Not now. He'd have to pay top dollar to the Overseers and go through legitimate channels to meet her requirements.

  The rest of the family passed with replicas, by the looks of those bright, intelligent eyes. But the cost of one ration quota was significant enough for a Citizen living in Muhgah Keekee. Even if he managed to earn a dollar or two offering computer services to the immoral Citizens among us.

  I flicked my gaze back to the computer, following the power cords and Ethernet wires and looked for a modem. If he had one, it was well out of sight.

  My eyes landed on Zhang Yong. His smile had turned rueful.

  "It has been a while, Citizen Yeh," I remarked.

  "Too long, Lena," he purposely replied, omitting the formal and correct address.

  "I fear so," I agreed with a soft smile.

  "You have something for me?" he asked, still conversing in Wáitaměi.

  It should have been an instant alarm. We'd always talked in Anglisc before. He was warning me. He had been right from the moment I stepped through the door.

  "No," I said with a shake of my head. "I merely wished to ensure you were all well."

  He nodded, that tranquil smile returning to his lips. The light in his eyes glinting. His message had been received and he knew it.

  "We have prospered, Citizen," he said. "Wánměi treats us well."

  I don't think I could have been more disappointed. Or defeated, right then. Zhang Yong had been my contact for all things technical for over eight years. I'd watched his children appear and grow. I'd eaten at his tiny table.

  It took everything in me not to show any emotion at all.

  "Then I shall bid you a good day, Citizen," I murmured.

  "Be well, Lena," he offered, the smile slipping. "Wánměi above all others."

  Oh, damn.

  "Wánměi leads the way," I managed to say.

  I left without another word. At the doorway the daughter looked up into my eyes, an awareness and knowledge there that shouldn't have existed on a thirteen year old child.

  "I like your hair," she whispered, proving just how young she truly was.

  "Thank you," I said, not sure what else I could offer a family who had obviously fallen under Overseer scrutiny. "Take care," I added, and then turned my back and walked down the stairs.

  I'd made it to the end of Olive Grove when I heard them. I spun and watched in horror as the sPol drones swarmed into the street down by the Yeh building. Red lights flashed. Electronic beeps announced their arrival. The ominous sound of heavy boots thumping up a rickety stairwell met my ears.

  I stood still for too long. Waiting. Watching when I shouldn't. Telling myself they were safe, I hadn't left them compromised at all. There was nothing to lead the Cardinals to them. Other than the fact they lived off-grid, obviously weren't taking their rations, and had just entertained a Citizen who currently held the stolen Wántel files on her person.

  No. They would be replica dosed. They'd pass a test. And there was no reason for the sPol to suspect I was connected with the break-in.

  Unless my blocks had failed.

  Besides, something else was going on. Something that had filled Zhang Yong's coffers. And I had the disheartening feeling that something was "politically correct."

  I turned and started to walk away, thinking my time was really up now.

  But within two steps I knew it had already passed. When an iPol drone shouted, "You there! Identify!"

  My lids closed, as my heartbeat raced, and sweat beaded on my brow. Then with a heavy heart I pinched the bridge of my nose and turned to face my destiny, discarding the contact lenses I'd been wearing in one swift, undetectable move.

  My defiant eyes met the red glow of a drone, no more than three feet away.

  "Prepare for eScan," it announced, raising its right arm, fingers stretched to cup my chin.

  I smiled.

  I was betting it wasn't pretty.

  Chapter 6

  Reckless

  Trent

  "Oh, this should be interesting," I muttered under my breath. Unsure how I felt about the Honourable about to be iRec'd.

  She'd led me on a merry goose chase, and I disliked being fooled. I was sure she'd been in her residence when I arrived at Parnell Rise. I was sure the concierge had given her the heads up, sometime after I left the foyer and ascended in the lift to her top floor. And I was sure her Shiloh unit was somehow lying when it told me at her front door that she had been gone for several hours.

  Si didn't make mistakes, and he had her at those Parnell Rise apartments since she'd stumbled there from Wántel. Or at least, he hadn't seen her leave and he'd been watching like a hawk.

  A Citizen had left twenty minutes before I arrived, but not Selena Carstairs, so how she doctored her Shiloh is anyone's guess.

  And then I'd gotten lucky. Fuming, unreasonably off balance, I'd paced in the park across the street from her home, only to see her slip out a side entrance and hasten away through the shadows. So, I followed.

  She took three taxis, one bus, and then a lengthy time on foot. Somewhere in all of that Si advised that Honourable Selena Carstairs was showing up at home in Parnell Rise, her Shiloh unit back online.

  It just got crazier after that.

  Who the hell was this woman to play tricks on Wánměi's system like this? Was it a game to her? A bored Elite with nothing to challenge her in life? She was bold, rash. Reckless.

  And what had she wanted in a dilapidated building in Citizen zoned Muhgah Keekee?

  I'd sat outside, unable to get in undetected, and waited. Playing over that iPol scene she'd watched from the shadows down the street. People didn't pay attention to Cardinal drones. But she did. As though it meant something. As though it moved her. But how did it move her? In which way? Pro Wánměi? Or anti Chew-wen.

  And now this. Her own iRec-oning. How ironic.

  I held my breath as she offered the most wicked looking smile to the drone. Something in me shifted. Something unidentifiable. Something... strange. My breath left me in a rush as she stepped forward, and I found myself leaning closer, almost out of the shadowed alcove I was using as cover. My fists clenched, my lips pressed in a thin line, my eyes boring into the eScanner
that had risen from the iPol's arm.

  I was actually praying she passed, and I couldn't figure out why.

  It had to be the file she'd stolen. If she failed an iRec scan, she'd be arrested. And then how would I get the codes?

  I licked my lips as the laser rolled over her eyeball. I found myself wondering what colour her eyes were. The shots we'd taken in the rain on that rooftop didn't identify her eye colour. I was going with blue, what with that white hair, but what shade?

  Who the fuck cares? What was wrong with me?

  A grunt of incredulity sounded out from the back of my throat just as the eScanner beeped acceptance. Miraculously my body released its tension, which didn't make any sense at all.

  "Honourable Selena Carstairs," Shiloh announced through the drone's communicator. "No warrants. Highest regards."

  Highest regards. I snorted softly, leaning back in the shadows again. She'd receive that greeting due to her relationship to General Chew-wen. How convenient.

  "Forgiveness, Honourable Selena Carstairs," the drone intoned. "We were expecting someone else."

  I frowned. They didn't usually make mistakes. One thing to be said for Cardinal efficiency, they rarely pulled someone over who didn't deserve it.

  "An honest mistake, Cardinal," the Elite replied, directing her response to the Cardinal controlling the drone, and not the iPol unit itself.

  Only Elites could get away with that. The rest of us had to talk to the robot.

  "May I enquire as to your reasons for visiting Muhgah Keekee this morning?" the Cardinal asked through the drone's communicator.

  "I lost my way," she replied, with a coy smile the operator would be able to see through the camera lens mounted at eye level on the drone.

  "May I escort you back to Parnell Rise," the Cardinal pushed. I was getting the impression he didn't believe her.

  And so was she. Quick, this one. Not drugged. Definitely not complacent. But was she Wánměi minded? I could tell from here she was superior, but then being an Elite she would need to be. Even in their own social structure one had to fight to stay on top, or get swallowed by the whole.