kae

@krholton.bsky.social

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Agender, any pronouns. Driftless Region, WI. Fantasy & Sci-fi writer. www.krholton.com THE LAST FIRSTBORN is coming Oct 13th! Would you like to buy me a coffee? https://krholton.com/about#tip-jar

"You look like Dad," Wes said in hardly more than a whisper. He'd just finished tying the complex ceremonial knot in the ties of my blindfold. It was made of a stiff brocade that may as well have been a plate of plasteel.
The Last Firstborn trope board: Dystopian fantasy, blind prophet main character, Final Fantasy 7 meets Dune, 100% Human-made, found family, time distortion, reluctant hero
Cover of The Last Firstborn by KR Holton. A young priest wearing a blindfold stands with his arms outstretched. Gold accents form a halo and a silhouette of a city. Cover art by Bookfly Design.
Photo of a table strewn with index cards, notebooks, and pens
Photo of a bookcase, labeled "favorites" and "writing & reference books"
A sketched portrait of a young woman wearing a blindfold and a priest cassock. She has long, unkempt hair and a slight smile. Art by Kristin at LuckyDomino.
The Last Firstborn trope board: Dystopian fantasy, blind prophet main character, Final Fantasy 7 meets Dune, 100% Human-made, found family, time distortion, reluctant hero
Text: "You look like Dad," Wes said in hardly more than a whisper. He'd just finished tying the complex ceremonial knot in the ties of my blindfold. It was made of a stiff brocade that may as well have been a plate of plasteel.
Cover of The Last Firstborn by KR Holton. A young priest wearing a blindfold stands with his arms outstretched. Gold accents form a halo and a silhouette of a city. Cover art by Bookfly Design.
Cover for Bridge to Nowhere, a short story by KR Holton. The background of the cover is washed out yellow tones. A concrete bridge disappears into fog in the distance.
A photo of two cats laying in the sun. Left is small grey, right is giant orange floof
“I sympathize with your story, but I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that I must hesitate to trust your words. As outwardly friendly as we are with the Merx, I’m sure you’re aware of the tensions that continue behind doors. It would not be, let’s say, ‘unheard of’ for them to send agents in the guise of innocent-looking youths.” ‘Outwardly friendly’ was utter bullshit. They were at each other’s throats in council meetings. “I understand. If there’s anything we can do to assuage your concerns, we’re willing. But either way, I suggest you consider additional security around the whole Oida family in case the Merx think about trying again.”
And just like that, Courin had grabbed my hand and was leading me away, out into the heat of the rising sun. “Where do we even start?” I asked. “On a hill! First thing you gotta know about scouting is that you gotta get up high. Er…” Courin stalled, realizing who she was talking to. “I gotta get up high and you gotta get with me. That’s the first thing you gotta know. Kay?” Ten minutes later, we were scrabbling up a rock face that felt like a sheer cliff, but Courin assured me that it was very safe. “Are we allowed to be here?” I asked once we’d hauled ourselves up to a flatish spot and Courin let me catch my breath. Not even Dad’s stupid treadmill had prepared me for this. “No one ever said we weren’t,” Courin said logically. “Hmm, I don’t see anyone else with a thing on their head like yours.”
I froze. Understanding slammed into me like a prophecy. If there had been anything in my stomach, I would have vomited again. Vivienne was closer now. Her perfume blew towards us with each gust of wind. “Everything I said yesterday, we can still make that happen. You and I can lead this empire. You can raise the next prophet how you want.”
“You could always come back. You can do so much good here in the city—” She cuts me off by stamping her foot and shaking her head. “Sorry, forget I asked. Would you grant me an indulgence, though? I wonder if there’s another way—another way to get you home before I commit to going down that path. Will you let me look?” I ask, gazing out across the vast expanse of time from above. I could have missed something in this expanse.
I was wearing a cassock robe again. Rhaz had had it commissioned for me from one of her favorite tailors, and the fit was perfect. The fabric was heavy but draped easily rather than constricting my movement like the old brocade ones I used to wear. The tailor had swapped the traditional buttons for snaps that were easier for me, made the collar shorter in the front so it didn’t cut my throat, and even given me extra pockets hidden in the side seams. Emblazoned on my chest in raised embroidery was my family’s crest—an open eye in the center of a stylized flame, meant to symbolize the phrase “by Polea’s light, we are able to see.” The textured thread allowed me to “see” it for the first time.
Lune arrived less than an hour later and exuded calm into the room with her mere presence. She absorbed my name, blindfold, and description as “tower boy” without any hesitation. “My name’s Lune. Can I take your hand?” she said in a soft, even voice. I reached out and gripped her fingers probably harder than I should have. “I’m a nurse at the hospital and I’ve treated water poisoning more times than I can count, don’t worry.” I trusted her immediately, despite Eno’s warning to stop doing that.
Eno was strangely silent, but I could hear him breathing just a pace ahead of me. “Which way now?” I asked. He took a few more heavy breaths before he said, “Do you realize how many credits I could have gotten by turning you in just then? I could have walked you right up to that Merx meathead.” It hadn’t crossed my mind, truthfully. Polea had told me to trust this man, and so I had. “How many?” I asked. “Enough to pay for my water for months, probably.” “You said you’re not devout, but I think you follow Polea’s teachings better than some of my congregation.” “Don’t put that on me. It ain’t for Polea. I just got trouble with lost-puppy-types. Come on, we’re only a few blocks from Club Nectar.”
There was a delectable smell wafting through the air. It was a bit sweet like caramelized onions, but rich with cream. A plate was set in front of me by a silent waiter. “It’s like, one bite of food,” Wes said. “Like a dome of cheese or something, but there’s stuff inside? When you cut into it, juice spills out.” I appreciated him trying to include me, but maybe his descriptions could use some work. “Ah yes, this is one of our favorites here. It’s onion soup suspended in cheese dumpling.” Niklo’s gentle voice made it sound like he was trying to convince a toddler to eat a vegetable. “Fork or spoon?” “I like to just pop the whole thing in my mouth and eat it in one go.” That was Rhaz. She was sitting across the table and to my left. As tense as our goodbye had been, it was good to hear her voice, hear for sure that she was still alive. “Darling, don’t be rude,” said Niklo. It sounded like Wes took Rhaz’ advice but wound up with a scalded tongue. He spluttered and was making noises that were halfway between pain and satisfaction. “Polea, it’s delicious,” he said, sucking in air.
Everything was blurry, bright, and out of focus. I was surrounded by a glowing, flickering ring but couldn’t make out the candles that must have been surrounding the dais. The staff in my hands was a long, black branch, polished to a sheen from centuries of hands of my ancestors. There was a smooth black stone set into a gnarl at the top of the staff. It was embedded there as if the tree had grown around it, rather than it being placed there by human hands. It was said to be polished obsidian. Though the stories of mountains erupted with liquid rock seemed like little more than a creation myth, I couldn’t argue that the stone looked otherworldly. The light of the candles didn’t seem to touch it. I was falling, like sinking into a pool. There was a current running beneath me—the flow of time—and as I sank, the current pulled me forward into the future.
It didn’t take long for me to feel turned around. I missed the pylons in the tower that made a soft humming sound at each intersection and allowed me to navigate on my own. I even missed the handrails and the directions they provided with a simple voice request. I hadn’t realized how much I relied on those aids or how much more vulnerable I’d be in a place without them. My guide cane only did so much when the alleyways bent at odd angles or suddenly came to a dead end. I couldn’t keep wandering around like this. I could be headed straight back to the Merx Tower at this point. Based on what Marquez had said, I’d thought I’d had plenty of time to get into place before the assassination would happen tonight, but that margin was steadily running out.
“Keep going,” Vivienne said. Could I stop? “The dart sticks up from her back and her death is agony. Lights blaring red and blue, sirens shining silver. She dies in the alley. Cops show up later. Not quick enough to save her. The sidewalk people avoid looking at the alley people, mostly. Especially when they’re dead.” “Levi, slow down. Feel your body. Feel your back pressed against the floor. Smell the incense, listen to my voice, and taste this water,” said Vivienne, giving me another sip. I took a deep breath and coughed. “There’s another in the alley, a star-crossed savior. He sees you, sees what you did. That’s how the police come.” “Sees who?” Vivienne asked carefully. Was it worth it? Marquez swore. “Told you this wasn’t gonna work out.” “Why did you lie to me?” I asked. Bold. Too bold.
“You look divine in that uniform,” she said, heels clunking on the floor as she came closer. “I was worried your shoulders wouldn’t fit into the robe without some tailoring, but it looks good. You fill it out better than Silvan did. He always looked a bit frumpy.” The cassock was tight across my chest, and the skirts had too much fabric that kept bunching up between my legs. I much preferred my normal robes—plain linen, no frills.
My blindfold was clinging to my face, hot, damp, and constricting. Why now? Why had she felt the need to dump this all on me now? After so long of no one telling me anything, she just lays it out during a casual commute to work? Is this how she was thanking me for saving her brother? “Sorry, I thought you knew,” she said. “No one tells me anything,” I said, failing at keeping my voice level. “You can see the future though.” I clenched my teeth. “Only when permitted.” How could Polea have let something like this happen? Why did her blessing have such a high price to pay by her most loyal followers? But we’d arrived at the cathedral, and now it was time for work.
He left me alone with Vivienne. “Levi, darling,” she said, pretending to be absolutely delighted to see me. “Aren’t you just so excited for your big day?” Her voice was low but carried an irritating saccharine tone. Vivienne was the liaison between my family and the Merx corporation. She’d taken over the role when her father retired nearly five years ago and had been working for my dad since. She’d handled all his scheduling and coordinated all the requests for prophecies and made sure he had plenty of time to recover. Mostly. There was only so much she could do. It was only a matter of time before the divine sight drove the prophets mad, no matter how carefully Vivienne did her job. She must have taken my pause for trepidation. “You poor boys,” she said. “This transition is always hard on the Noethi family. It’s hard on the Merx, too.” I ground my teeth.
Wes disappeared from my side suddenly, but I heard him say, “Sir, my brother—he can’t see it. Could he maybe step over? To touch the bark?” The caretaker didn’t reply for a moment. I could understand him saying no. If I was allowed to do it, everyone else would think they could, too. And then the tree would be trampled and ruined. I’d be granted whatever I wanted if I told him I was a prophet, but I didn’t want to play that hand so quickly, out in public. To my surprise, the caretaker took pity on me and gave his consent. Wes led me through the short little gate and onto the dirt ground. It was packed, hard dirt, but it still felt spongy compared to the stone tiles we were used to. “Two steps forward,” Wes said. Then he took my hand and placed it onto the trunk of the tree. The bark was rougher than I’d imagined. There were gnarls and knobs, twists and burls. It reminded me of the prophet’s staff. How long ago had my inauguration ceremony been? How long since I’d felt that visceral connection with the goddess? But there was something here, in this sacred tree. It wasn’t as strong as the staff had been, but something pulled, hooked me behind my eyes, almost like when I fell into a vision. It was like sinking beneath water. Except here, there was no river of time—it was merely a puddle.
I woke up, stiffer than I’d ever been when we’d been staying at the Den on those cots. It was before dawn, but the air was damp with promised rain. As if on schedule, drops started splattering on the treated canvas of the pop-up tent. It picked up until I was sure the rain would rip straight through the fabric. The moisture stung my nostrils. “This happens every day?” Wes asked. “Man, no wonder nothing can survive out here.”
“Message from: Unknown contact,” my new comms said. I’d been getting all kinds of spam and wrong-number calls since I’d gotten the new device. I rolled over in my blankets and tried to flip the comms onto silent mode with fumbling fingers, but was too slow. The device started playing the message. A familiar, low, feminine voice emanated from the speaker. “Levi, I’ve gone through hell to track you down. Please call me. I’ll make it worth your while.” I was suddenly awake. Panicking. Blankets tangled around my limbs like they’d been tied. I flailed and struggled, but freed myself eventually. With blood pounding in my ears, I pulled on pants, grabbed the comms, and flung myself, shoeless and shirtless, out the door. I ran down the mezzanine to Eno’s room. I knew his door by a plasteel placard on the front and knocked hard.
My head was swimming, somehow floating several feet above my body. Was this what prophetic madness would feel like? Each prophecy I saw would bring me closer to that end. Each prophecy had a price. Over time, resurfacing into the present would get harder, and the line between prophecy and reality would start to blur. I would start to act strange, not truly be back in my head. My mind would be stuck somewhere between present and future. If they caught it early enough, they could place a more permanent blindfold that I wouldn’t be able to rip off easily—or chemically blind me—in order to keep any more visions from pulling me under. But by the time it got that bad, I’d be half insane anyways. Wes would probably be saddled with babysitting me at the ripe old age of fifty or so. As long as I had an heir by then, the line of firstborns would continue, and that was the important thing.
“Is this really worth my time?” I asked, a little bolder because Aumbrose wasn’t there. “We decide what’s worth your time, Prophet,” said Marquez. “Remember that.” “Just do what they say,” my father repeated in my head. The Merx controlled everything. They controlled this tower, they controlled the water, this whole sector of the city. They controlled me, my life, Wes’ life. It all revolved around them. There was a reason our mother was gone. But every vision cost me a little bit of my life, a little bit of my sanity. I’d pay for this later. They wouldn’t. And I supposed if Polea had a problem with how the power was being used, she’d have done something about it, right? The Merx were the stewards of Polea’s followers, and clearly the goddess trusted the family to do what was best for her congregation. Who was I to question the goddess?
“Hold on a minute,” Eno said. He’d been mostly silent since I came back up and now his voice was shaking. “If you don’t need a stiff drink, I do. I ain’t prepared to keep you from choking on your own tongue. It ain’t been like that before.” “I told you, sometimes it’s more intense than others.” “Well, I wasn’t ready for the more intense version. I almost called Lune ‘fore Kile said he knew what to do.” “Aye, had a friend who had seizures when we was kids. Learned how to keep him from smashing his head on stuff. Turn him on his side, and so forth.” “Thank you for doing that,” I said. “But I’m fine, really. We need more information, and I can get it. I just need something cold to drink.” “No way,” said Eno. “You look like shit. Take a break.” I licked sweat off my upper lip, which was now scratchy with stubble. I knew that I could see another prophecy. Vivienne had sent me back down for rapid-fire visions all the time. Being told to take a break was a slap in the face. “So, you’re the real deal, huh?” Kile asked before I could argue with Eno. I sighed and rearranged my hair, so it wasn’t pulled down by the mask. “Polea’s mouthpiece, in the flesh. Fat lot of good it’s done me.”
My heart was still racing. Polea’s wisdom? I knew what I was supposed to say, but… none of it would be true. I hadn’t seen the next Noethi heir’s inauguration. I’d just seen two people murdered. In the very spot where I was standing. I had no guidance from the goddess to offer. I swallowed with a dry throat. It seemed Vivienne had taken my stall as a struggle against the vision’s after-effects, and she pressed a cool glass into my hand. I used my finger to test how full it was and keep from spilling all over myself before drinking deeply. “Thank you,” I whispered, and the glass was gone. But that left me in no better position than before. All I knew were the words I was supposed to say. I’d rehearsed them so many times. I’d ingrained those words into my mind and now they were all I had. “I have seen Polea’s wisdom,” I said with a shaky voice. “And our goddess guides us to a bright future. The Merx and the Noethi go hand-in-hand toward Polea’s will and she will bring us salvation.” My first official prophecy, ended with my first official lie.
“Gonna need you back at the cathedral, pronto,” said Vivienne. “There’s going to be another attempt on the heiress and it’s going to be tonight. We just got all the details from the Lygus. Can you be there in ten?” So much for that date, huh? “I’ll be there.” “I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can,” she said and hung up. I was almost out the door when Wes piped up. “They’re gonna try again, huh?” he asked. I didn’t say anything. “Fine, well have fun aiding and abetting a murder. I’m sure Polea loves that.”
Photo of the special edition cover of Alchemised by SenLinYu. A lone figure in red is dwarfed by a huge, Gothic castle.
Screen shot of a line graph showing word count progress from Oct 1 to Nov 30.
“The city is going to die. We’re going to run out of water. I had to do something.” “Did you forget about the massive new water collection facility you helped push through parliament?” Rhaz asked. “No, of course not. I mean after that. That will limp us along for,” I paused and checked my numbers by floating out to the future. “One hundred and ninety-four years. Four or five generations, basically, until we just hit another water crisis.” “So leave it to our children and grandchildren to solve some of that. The weight of the entire human civilization isn’t on your shoulders, Levi.” “It is, though.” My voice reverberated throughout the room, refusing to get absorbed into the fabric of the furniture.
Close up photo of an Eyelash Pit Viper, a bright yellow snake with spines above its eyes and nose
I’d always wondered what it would be like to be outside, in an abstract sort of way. What would it be like to be exposed to the sky, to breathe unfiltered air? The world sounded so hostile; that was why we needed the towers. I’d be lying if I claimed I weren’t a bit nervous to leave. But there were people who lived in the city their whole lives. It must have been safe enough. I hurried toward the doors. They opened as I neared, and I stepped through. For the first time in my life, I was outside. I wished I could have seen it. But there was no time. With as long of strides as I dared with the guide cane, I fled from my home. Where was I going? Did it matter?
Shouting came from down the hall and soon, Revon emerged through the door, flanked on one side by a handsome police officer and on the other by the sheriff. Both officers were looking grim. Revon, for their part, was looking elated and was babbling. Perhaps they were still drunk. “Mal! Nadia!” they said, coming into the waiting room. The officer removed Revon’s handcuffs and the fae threw themself forward, dragging us all into a hug. “You freed me?” “Had to, didn’t I?” said Malachi. “Where’s old grumpy pants?” asked Revon, rubbing their wrists. “Scott took off with almost all of our equipment,” I said. “You promised to help me with some of my experiments—would you be willing to take a more hands-on role?” “And by ‘would you be willing,’ what she means is that your release is contingent on you helping out. My gun is currently being held as collateral for you, and if you screw this up, I will kill you to release the life debt. That gun is more important to me than you.” “Clear as crystal, friends. I really am sorry about all this. Big misunderstanding!” “Yeah, I bet,” said Malachi. “Let’s go.
Something was wrong. My body wasn’t where it should have been. No. I was standing. I was being held back—held up?—by arms much stronger than mine. A gravelly voice was swearing in my ear. It was a scary few seconds before my mind was back in place and in control of my body again. I stopped thrashing and gasped in a few breaths. “What in Polea’s wide world has gotten into you?” Marquez asked, holding me in a bear hug to keep me still. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have an answer. “Do you have your feet?” he asked, and I nodded. He let go. I swayed, pulling away violently. I pushed Marquez away. Gravity wasn’t coming from the direction I expected, and I was falling again. Falling down into prophecy, except this time, Marquez’ wrought-iron arm caught me before I hit the floor. “You’re not all back yet, are you?” He swore through gritted teeth.
“Tower, play message.” An unfamiliar voice called out from the speakers around the living room. “Hello Prophet Noethi, this is Natalia Merx from the admissions office at Merx University. Due to special circumstances, your brother’s application has been accepted en proviso. It’s, erm, quite unusual, but these conditions are that he immediately move into dormitory housing, and that his contact with you be limited. He’ll also have limited unsupervised access to citynet. These stipulations will be in place for the first year of his schooling so that he can fully focus on his studies. We’ll send you regular updates about his progress. I believe someone’s already been sent to collect him and his belongings. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions. We look forward to watching Wes’ growth within the Merx community. All of his test scores were exceptional, so I’m sure he’ll excel here. Have a great day.” A chill had settled over me. “Tower, call Wes’ personal comms.” “I’m sorry,” said the computer. “Access to that unit has been restricted.”
Screen shot of a line graph that shows word count progress across Oct and Nov. The line was below par for most of early Nov, but now is well ahead of the minimum again!
There was a huge crash on the other side of the street, and a multitude of metal objects clattered on the wet concrete. At the same time that the officer yelled, “What the hell?” a hand grabbed mine and pulled me down the street. My feet had no choice but to keep up, to run. The officer was shouting after me, but whatever had fallen onto the street evidently took precedence because he didn’t pursue us. The guiding hand was small. The person was short, three or four strides for every two of mine. We ran until I was out of breath and the noise of the commotion had faded into the general cacophony behind us. “What happened?” I gasped out. A small voice replied, “Saw you were in it deep with that cop, mister. Know a guy with no ID chip when I see ‘em, eh?” The child nudged me in the side as if we were sharing a scandalous joke. “We gotta help each other out, don’t we? Law of the city, ain’t it. Say, where’d you get that hoodie from?”
photo of a long haired orange cat in a small box
‟What happened after the killer left the alley?” Vivienne asked, pressing a cup into my hand. “There were lights and sirens. People saw him and called the police I think. He was arrested, just like last time.” Marquez swore. ‟Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked, sloshing water down my chin as I drank. “Not if she still dies,” Vivienne said. “They can just make her stay home though, right?” “The situation isn’t that cut and dry, Levi. Evidently, the Oida heiress is… incredibly disinclined to stay in her apartments.” “Even though her life is at risk?” “I can’t answer for the internal handling of the situation by the Lygus. What I can say is that we will again give them this information. They’ll keep her safe however they see fit.” Why didn’t I feel as if we’d made any progress toward unraveling the plot?
Every morning Vivienne called me with my agenda—let me know how formal my clothes needed to be. She opened every call by asking how I was feeling. A normal enough question, but I couldn’t help but feel like she was gauging how hard she could work me that day. At the end of the week, she called me back into the cloister to see another prophecy. She needed information to expose that one of “their” legislators was also taking “donations” from the Lygus. Basically, blackmail. “Is this really worth my time?” I asked, a little bolder because Aumbrose wasn’t there. “We decide what’s worth your time, Prophet,” said Marquez. “Remember that.” “Just do what they say,” my father repeated in my head.
“The entire city relies on this damned machine. We need the Merx to work more diligently on trying to understand if we can replicate it. Build a second one for Polea’s sake! We shouldn’t be passing bullshit like this. If the maintenance is so pricey, we’d be better off putting that money into research.” They’re talking about the water purifier. The Merx have an elaborate system of pipes, valves, pumps, and storage tanks, all designed to funnel the poisoned rainwater into the purifier machine, which supplies the whole city with clean water. I don’t understand what they mean by research, though. We know exactly how the machine works—it runs on manna, a gift from the goddess. It runs on divine power. There’s no use researching it.
Gastone looks cool now. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and the top button of his black, collared shirt is undone. He’s in a dim hallway with cold, gray tiled floors and walls. At the end of the hallway is a window. I step forward to peer out the glass and am surprised to see other buildings blocking the view. So, we’re not in the tower, we’re down in the city. This is as close as I’ve ever been to it. Gastone is with three others, all dressed in similar dark colors. One of them kneels in front of a door, fiddles with the keycard reader. There’s a heavy click and the door opens. The power flashes me forward in time.
A line graph showing word count progress on Firstborn's Legacy. The line has a steep incline in June, then very shallow from July until Oct. In Oct and Nov, the line shoots up from 35k to 72k.
Wes stole a pizza pocket from my plate, so I grabbed the last one before my dinner vanished. “Some congressman disappeared, I guess. People are up in arms about it because he spoke out against the Merx a few times and it looks pretty suspicious. They’ve got a bill going through legislation right now and he was against it. Now he’s gone.” I stopped chewing. Aumbrose’s comment—I thought it had just been a morbid joke. He didn’t have them under his thumb the way he had us, right? The food turned tasteless in my mouth. I set the plate down on the coffee table and swallowed. “What’s wrong?” asked Wes. “Do you know something?” he added when I didn’t answer quick enough. Dinner was turning sour in my stomach.
Eno’s shoulder dipped as he stepped down to exit the street—the floor of whatever room we were entering was sunken into the ground by several feet. After we’d descended, the door slid closed behind us with a grating crunch. Several of the nearby conversations stopped as we took a few more steps into the room. It got quieter and quieter the further we went, and I somehow felt the eyes on me. “What’s wrong?” I whispered. “You look like you’re from the tower.” And what could I do about that? It wasn’t my fault that— “Here,” Eno said and placed my hand on the back of a plastic chair. “I’ll get you something warm to drink.” I sat down and all the aches in my legs and feet that I’d been trying to ignore came screaming for my attention. I was in front of a tall table, or maybe a bar. Murmuring resumed all around the room, but the tone was more tense.
screenshot of a line graph showing word count progress over Oct & Nov. The progress is just below a blue line that represents "par."
Kile did his best to hold Wes back and answer his litany of questions about everything he could see. I’d started off as annoyed at him for this childlike wonder, but his constant string of inquiries actually helped me put together a clearer picture of the city. And I had to remember: he’d never been down to the city either. He’d been just as sheltered from the realities of life down here as I had. His only exposure was through citynet forums. He chattered on and on about the neon lights on all the buildings and all the different colors they came in. I guessed that’s what that ever-present, faint humming sound was. He asked how the buildings and the pavement withstood the rain. Apparently a lot of them didn’t, but many were painted over and over with a rubberized coating that allowed water to slough off into the gutters instead of degrading the permeable brick.
photo of an orange cat looking directly at camera and meowing
We were in the cathedral vestry, surrounded by cedar chests and anointing oils, separate from the world of plasteel and autodoors outside. There wasn’t even a comms terminal in here. So, when the door opened without so much as a courtesy chime, I jumped. Sharply sweet perfume entered the vestry, cutting through the more earthy scents. Vivienne Merx had arrived. So, it was time. Wes made his way toward the door with soft footsteps. His brassy voice was pinched with tension when he said, “Remember what we talked about. I’ll see you there, Levi.” “I won’t see you.” Our little joke. Only I’d never found it very funny. Especially not now. Especially not with what I planned to do. He left me alone with Vivienne.
“Race you to five miles,” said Wes. I’d been planning on a quick three-miler today. But his feet were already pounding against the belt of the machine and the word “race” spawned in me some kind of primal urge to compete. I clicked the button to speed up, lengthened my stride. “How fast are you going?” I asked. “Six,” he said, smug. “Easy,” I said, and pushed the button a few more clicks to set my pace to seven. I could hold it longer than he could, and we both knew it. My footfalls were light thumps against the belt while Wes’ were loud, slapping noises. If he wanted to be here for nearly an hour, that was up to him. A few minutes in, Wes said, “This is boring. How do you spend so much time down here?” “When my body is moving, my mind isn’t,” I said.
“Don did have something lined up for tonight, but I’m not sure I want to work for him again. Last time, I said it would be the last time.” “I can help,” I said, the idea so clear I didn’t feel it needed any more explanation. But Eno laughed and said, “Ain’t never heard of a blind bouncer.” “I can tell you if the job is going to go to shit again. I can see it.” “Oh. Easy as that, huh?” He sounded skeptical. Like he was still not confident my power to see the future was real. The unspoken challenge spurred me. I needed to prove it. To prove that I could be helpful, that I could pay him back. That it was going to be worth it to save Wes.
photo of a deep forest green notebook with "2026" embossed on the front
My mouth felt like it was full of sand. The water had to soak in to my lips and my throat before I was able to swallow. I went back to clutching my head and Wes left me alone. I think maybe I slept a little. Or time was passing strangely. Wes brought me some soup made of Eno’s trail rations. The smell was at once mouth watering and nauseating. Sitting up was a monumental task that zapped me of whatever strength I’d gained through cowering on the floor. Wes propped a backpack behind me to lean on, which was good because the world was swaying beneath me. Wes, bless him, understood my pathetic whimpers well enough to wait a few minutes for me to recover. Once he decided I was ready, he helped me gulp down a few mouthfuls of tepid, watery broth. My body latched on to the meager nutrition. Recovery came quicker after that.