Prodigy

last alley we’d come through. Where are they going?
    When Kaede just continues walking with her scarf covering her mouth again, I say, “What about the Colonies?”
    “What
about
them?” she mutters through fabric.
    “What about letting the Republic collapse and the Colonies take over? What about that idea?”
    “It was never about letting the Colonies
win.
The Patriots are about re-creating the United States. However that can be accomplished.” Kaede pauses, then motions for us to turn down a different street. We walk two more blocks before she stops us in front of an enormous row of dilapidated buildings.
    “What’s this?” I ask Kaede, but she doesn’t respond. I turn back to the building in front of me. It’s about thirty or so stories tall, but stretches unbroken for several city blocks. Every few dozen yards, tiny, dark entrances are carved into the compound’s bottom floor. Water drips from the sides, from windows and decaying balconies, carving ugly lines of fungus into the walls. The structure stretches on down the street from where we stand—from the sky it must look like a gigantic black cinder block.
    I gape at it. After seeing the lights of the Colonies’ skyscrapers, it’s shocking to know that a building like this exists over here. I’ve seen abandoned
Republic
complexes that look better than this. The windows and corridors are squeezed so closely together that no light could possibly get down to the bottom. I peer inside one of the black entrances.
    Darkness, nothing. The sound of dripping water and faint footsteps echoes from inside. Now and then, I see a flickering light go by, as if someone’s in there with a lantern. I peer up at the higher floors. Most of the windows are cracked and shattered, or missing altogether. Some of them have plastic taped across the opening. Old pots on the balconies catch dripping water, and several have lines of tattered clothing hanging off the ledges. There must be people living in there. But the thought makes me shiver. I look back once at the glittering skyscrapers on the block right behind us, then forward at this rotting cement structure.
    A commotion at the end of the street catches our attention. I tear my eyes away from the compound. A block down, there’s a middle-aged woman in men’s boots and a shabby coat pleading at the top of her lungs with a pair of men dressed in heavy plastic gear. Both have clear visors covering their faces and large, wide-brimmed hats on their heads.
    “Watch,” Kaede whispers. Then she drags us into one of the dark entrances between two doors on the compound’s ground level. We lean our heads slightly so that we can hear what’s going on. Even though they’re fairly far away, the woman’s voice carries clearly across the quiet, icy air.
    “—just missed one payment this year,” the woman’s saying. “I can run to the bank first thing in the morning and give you as many Notes as I have—”
    One of the men interrupts her. “DesCon policy, ma’am. We cannot investigate crimes for customers who have been delinquent on payments to their local police.”
    The woman is in tears, wringing her hands so hard that I feel like she’s going to rub her skin right off. “There must be something you can do,” she says. “Something I can give you or another police department I—”
    The second man shakes his head. “All police departments share DesCon’s policy. Who’s your employer?”
    “Cloud Corp,” the woman says hopefully. As if this info might persuade them to help her.
    “Cloud Corp discourages its workers from being out past eleven P.M .” He nods up at the compound. “If you don’t return to your home, DesCon Corp will report you to Cloud and you might lose your job.”
    “But they’ve stolen everything I have!” The woman breaks into loud sobs. “My door is completely—completely bashed in—all of my food and clothes are gone. The men who did it live on my floor—if you please come with me, you can catch them—I know which apartment they live in—”
    The two men have already started walking away. The woman scampers behind them, begging for help, even as they keep ignoring her.
    “But my home—if you don’t do something—how will I—” she keeps saying. The men repeat their warnings to report her.
    After they’re gone, I turn back to Kaede. “What was that?”
    “Wasn’t it obvious?” Kaede replies sarcastically as we step out from the building’s darkness and back