Light shaper, p.26
Light Shaper, page 26
He rubbed his arms more vigorously, alternating hands, and he kept at it until a sharp jab of pain running up his right wrist reminded him he was using too much force. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm down.
It was stupid, really. He barely knew Steve. He had assumed things about him, and it had turned out not to be the case. Too bad. It would not be the first time it had happened to Rigel, and he had learned to accept what he could not change and move on.
Except he had started to feel something for Steve, a connection he had never felt before. Rigel had thought it went both ways, but, of course, he had been deluding himself. The voices in the next room were proof enough of that.
The woman named Zoe had assigned Steve and him adjoining rooms, but the walls were thin enough that Rigel could hear both Steve’s voice and hers. Not clearly enough to make out what they were saying, but he could hear the tone in the words. He heard Zoe’s excited nonstop monologue interrupted only occasionally by short answers from Steve. It went on long enough that Rigel got tired of pretending to massage his arms and instead went into the bathroom intending to take a shower.
He stripped and stepped into the tub, at the edge of which somebody had already left two shower tokens for his use. He took one and put it in the slot, activating the shower. A small light nearby turned green, and he was able to get hot water at once. Rigel hurried, since he didn’t know what the water allocation for this zone would be. He was still surprised that beneath the miserable exterior the slums presented there could be infrastructure like this, and he wondered if all shacks had an underground level or if it was only a few select buildings.
It was a good thing he hurried, because he was barely done rinsing off the last of the shower gel from his hair when the water stopped. He dried off and went back into his room, still feeling grumpy but a lot better now that he was clean. He had not had time for a proper shower since the morning before all of this chaos had started. Thinking back on that day, it seemed a little bit unreal somehow. And yet here he was, in a clandestine underground hotel next to a criminal market he hadn’t even known existed.
Without any money. Well, there was no helping it anymore. At least now they’d get what they needed to get to the Haven III site.
Rigel sat back down on the bed and yawned hugely. He hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep at all the previous night, and he was a little bit surprised he hadn’t felt tired before this. He had probably been running on adrenaline, but now it was gone, and Rigel wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for a very long time. He slipped under the covers, punched a pillow into shape, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep instantly.
Rigel woke up after what felt like much later, with no idea what time it was. He felt groggy and incredibly well rested, and for a few seconds did nothing more than lie on the bed, eyes closed, motionless. He opened his eyes slowly, but since his room was underground, there was no way of telling if it was day or night. He yawned and stretched, seriously considering going back to sleep, when a sound reached him from the other room.
It was something he had never heard before, the sound of Steve laughing. It was followed closely by the laughter of a woman, and Rigel knew who it had to be. Then there came the faint sound of their hushed voices, as if they were speaking under their breath. Zoe laughed again, shrilly, and then there was noise made by a mattress creaking. Several times.
Rigel turned the other way in the bed, pressed the pillow over his head to block out the noise, and determinedly went back to sleep.
This time he dreamed. He was back at the university, attending a 3-D Rendering class in one of the big lecture halls. Misha was there, but she was telling him he had to pick up his things because the classroom was on fire. He kept on shaking his head, telling her it wasn’t possible because Atlas was watching over them. When he next turned to look for Misha, both of Rigel’s parents were waiting for him, and they told him she had taken the first airship out of Aurora and was never coming back.
He started running away then, certain somebody was about to catch him, and just when he thought the dark alley he was running through was getting too narrow for him to fit, Steve was yelling for him, telling him to come to a safe spot. Rigel followed his voice unhesitatingly and suddenly found himself in the big garden of his parents’ home. There Rigel had spent most of his idle hours as a kid. He felt good in there, although he was all alone again. And then he looked at the sky and saw things falling. Enormous things, trailing infernal tails of fire and smoke.
Rigel woke up, opening his eyes in the darkness of his room. It was quiet, and this time Rigel was sure he had slept for several hours. He stood up slowly and went to the bathroom, checking the time on his way there. It was 9:13 a.m., which meant Rigel had spent the entire afternoon and all night sleeping. He had a slight headache, but the awful tiredness of the day before was gone.
Rigel freshened up and got dressed, taking his time. He was really hungry, but he wasn’t sure if Streaker’s arrangements for them included meals or if this place even served any food. When he was ready, he left his room and headed upstairs for the lobby intending to ask somebody where he could get something to eat. He didn’t find anybody there, but a little bit of exploration of the surface floor allowed him to discover the dining room, which was empty except for two people.
Rigel’s appetite fled, but they had already spotted him.
“Morning, Rigel!” Steve said, waving him over. “Come and have some breakfast!”
Rigel heard the brightness in his tone, so unlike his usual self. Rigel could guess why Steve was feeling so cheerful after last night, and the smile Rigel gave the pair as he approached was stiff and wooden.
“Good morning,” Rigel said, grabbing a seat. There was bread and a big bowl of dried fruit at the table, some cereal and yogurt. A jug of juice and a steaming pot of coffee completed the ensemble. In spite of himself, Rigel’s stomach gave a loud rumble at the sight of the food, which everyone heard.
Zoe laughed sweetly.
“I’m Zoe,” she introduced herself unnecessarily. “It’s nice to meet you, Rigel. Stevie told me all about you last night.”
Rigel flinched at the endearment term, and it might have been his imagination, but Steve appeared to react the same way.
“Nice to meet you,” Rigel said, meeting her eyes for the first time. She was pretty enough, with her olive skin and long black hair that fell neatly below her shoulders in what had to be ironed perfection. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she did not need it. At first Rigel had assumed she was in her early twenties because of her youthful appearance, but now that he was seeing her close up, he realized she was probably closer to Steve’s age than to his own. She looked fit, however. She obviously took good care of herself.
“Please, have anything you like,” she told him, gesturing at the food. “All your expenses were arranged and paid for last night. I know it might not be much compared to a proper city hotel, but I made sure to have as much variety as we could manage for breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”
“Um, yeah,” Rigel admitted, and Zoe poured him some before he could get it himself. “Thanks, Zoe.”
She smiled. “No problem. Go on, help yourself to whatever you like. If you take too much longer, Stevie will leave nothing for you!”
She had a point. Steve was scarfing down food as if he were on a timer, and Rigel’s stomach rumbled again. He grabbed some bread and yogurt and began eating too.
They said little while they were having breakfast, but both men were eating fast enough that most of the food was gone in less than fifteen minutes. Rigel had not realized how hungry he was until he had tasted the first mouthful, but afterward he grabbed fruit, cereal, and bread indiscriminately. When he finally felt satisfied, he sighed contentedly. It was good to be well fed, despite everything else going on. He also felt a little less short-tempered. Rigel poured himself the last of the juice and leaned back on his seat.
“That was great,” Steve said, wiping his mouth with a big hand. “Thanks, Zoe. Especially on getting the fruit. How did you manage it?”
Zoe shrugged. “Oh, I just had to call in a favor. This guy I know heard that a fruit shipment had come via airship yesterday, but they hadn’t delivered it yet. So I made sure to get some while it was still available.”
“Is it difficult to get fruit in here?” Rigel asked her.
She nodded. “Have you seen any fields out in these parts? The only way we can get fresh produce is through shipments, when airships dock nearby. Some of the people who are better connected also have contracts with the hydroponics district in the city, but it’s incredibly expensive. If you go to the fruits and vegetable section in the Night Market, you wouldn’t believe what they charge for an apple.”
“Wow,” Rigel said. “Thanks, then. You must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get all this.”
“It’s no big deal,” Zoe answered. “I also wanted to get some meat, maybe bacon or some sausages, but I had no luck. I hope it was enough, though? I know you must be accustomed to much better things, living in the city and all.”
“It was great,” Rigel assured her, wondering why she kept mentioning that they came from the city.
“I’m glad. We almost never get city visitors here, and it’s a wonderful change. Normally this hotel is for Corporation members only, and they are awful guests.”
“Corporation?” Rigel asked.
Zoe looked suddenly uncomfortable. Steve answered for her. “The people who control the Market. Very rich, even by Auroran standards. They own most of the underground constructions out here in the slums.”
“Anyway,” Zoe cut in. “I’m so glad to have interesting people to talk to. Steve told me you are an artist, Rigel?”
“Yeah,” Rigel admitted. “I went to arts school at the University of Aurora, almost majored in Fine Arts.”
“That sounds amazing!” Zoe told him. At first Rigel thought she was being sarcastic, but her tone was too sincere. “Did you paint? Or were you a sculptor or maybe one of those artists that do modern pieces, the kind you can interact with?”
“I did painting, mostly. I started out with portraits, but little by little I moved more into landscapes. Very realistic at the beginning, but then I found some archives on ancient Impressionist masters, and I loved their work. I admire Cézanne in particular. I like the edginess of his landscapes, the sharp contours and the earthy palette he normally used, not excessively bright but each piece with a harmony all its own. It’s amazing, the way he could portray the atmosphere in both little towns and in the wilderness when he would paint them. Somehow I find the paintings better than pictures of those same places much later.”
Zoe was nodding slightly, her complete attention on him. “I’ve thought…. Well, I don’t know this great artist you speak of, but once I managed to sneak into the Aurora Art Museum when they were having a free exhibition, and… I saw an entire room covered with paintings, more or less the same image but repeated at different times of the day and with different light. They were water lilies, all of them.”
“Monet,” Rigel said, remembering the exhibition. He had also visited it during his first semester at the university. The paintings were not originals, of course, but the reproductions had been made at an extremely high resolution and treated in Haven Prime to appear exactly as the true canvases would have looked. It remained one of the better temporary exhibitions hosted at the museum.
Zoe’s eyes lit up. “Monet!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten his name. I remember the paintings very well, though. I stayed in that room for a long time, just looking at them and imagining a world where one person could own a garden with a pond big enough to grow these water plants. I have never even seen a natural pond, or a lake, but looking at those paintings, I had an idea of how beautiful it would have been. It must have been a magical time, before all this. Water everywhere. Somehow, his paintings were like little windows into that world.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Rigel said, smiling. He was warming up to Zoe even though he didn’t want to. “When I could still paint, I would look at videos or images of the world as it was before and try to reproduce not only what I could see but what I imagined it must have felt to live then. It was hard, but I loved the challenge. Still do.”
“When you could still paint?” Zoe echoed, a look of concern in her eyes. “What do you mean? You can’t do it anymore?”
Rigel grinned sadly and lifted up his hands so the braces would be clearly visible. “I have a problem in both my wrists. Something having to do with the tendons and overuse, so I can’t do very much with my hands anymore. Even holding a paintbrush is hard after a while. Not ideal when you’ve chosen to become a painter.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and placed one of her hands lightly on top of his. “It must’ve been very hard.”
“A little, at the beginning,” Rigel admitted. “Now I’ve mostly gotten used to it. Well, almost all of the time. There’s still a few moments when I get really angry. Like when I grab a glass of water and my grip starts shaking so badly that I have to use both hands in order to drink without spilling water all over myself. Those little things. They can be pretty humiliating.”
Zoe’s hand was still touching his, and she was nodding sadly.
What’s the matter with me? Rigel thought, surprised at his sudden confession, pouring out his thoughts in front of a complete stranger. It was worse than doing it with a therapist, something Rigel had always avoided because he could not accept that he was not in control of his own mind. And now here he was, complaining about his problem for all he was worth, and worst of all, he was doing it in front of Steve.
Rigel snatched his hand away from her grasp, resolving to keep his mouth shut from now on. He did not want them to think he was weak and whiny.
Thankfully, Steve chose that moment to clear his throat loudly.
“I’m also here, you know,” he said. “Even if I don’t know anything about art.”
“Stevie, don’t get jealous!” Zoe said teasingly. Rigel cringed again at her familiar tone. “I just wanted to get to know your friend. You know how it is in here. We live right next to the city people, but they almost never visit, and we never go there. Two different worlds. I’ve been here all my life. Not all of us can leave this place for good like you did.”
Steve choked a little on the coffee he had been drinking. Rigel looked at him curiously.
“You lived here?” he asked Steve.
“Um….”
“That’s how I met him,” Zoe intervened, dragging her chair so she would be sitting a little bit closer to Steve. “We were both teenagers, stupid and terrified. It may not look like it from what you’ve seen, Rigel, but life in the slums is hard. I’ve got a steady job in here, but I’m one of the lucky ones. The Corporation pays me directly. It’s not much, but I also get some things for free in the Market, or a discount, or maybe a hint of when the next airship is docking. My life is relatively easy now. But if you don’t know anybody in here and you want to survive….”
“You do what you have to,” Steve finished for her, fingering the melted key around his neck. Zoe nodded, her eyes suddenly far away.
“I had no idea,” Rigel said.
“It’s okay,” Zoe told him gently. “I was luckier than most because I had Stevie. He helped out many times. He helped a bunch of us, really. We were a small gang, and he was the oldest. When he could, he made sure everybody at least had something to eat. He was always the best of us. I knew he would make it out of here, make a life for himself in the city. And he did.”
She smiled fondly at Steve and gave him such a look of adoration Rigel looked away, feeling as if he was intruding on something private. He looked back just in time to catch Zoe giving Steve a kiss that might have been intended for his mouth but landed on his cheek instead. Steve, incredibly, was blushing.
“Well, it’s been great meeting you,” Rigel said abruptly. “I’m still a bit tired, and we got to wait here until we get the message from Streaker, so I guess I’ll go and rest in my room.”
“Bye, Rigel!” Zoe said happily, already resting her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know when lunch is ready!”
Steve didn’t say anything to him. Rigel thought he was probably too busy already.
He went downstairs quickly, almost knocking aside a surprised housekeeper who was just closing the door to his room. Rigel apologized and shut himself inside once again, lying down on the bed without even kicking off his shoes.
He knew he was probably behaving very stupidly. After all, he had never even considered Steve’s past. Rigel had vaguely assumed that Steve had always been a security guard of one kind or another, just an average dude working in the city. A loner for most of his life. That was an idiotic fantasy he had created in his mind somehow, of course. It really shouldn’t bother him that Steve knew other people who were obviously extremely friendly toward him. If anything, his admiration for the man should only grow now that Rigel knew Steve had started at the very bottom, a penniless teenager trying to survive in the slums. Rigel tried to imagine what it would have been like, but he really couldn’t. His own childhood and adolescence had been fairly comfortable, and he was still trying to come to grips with this cutthroat subculture of need and poverty.
In a way, Zoe’s revelation explained a lot about why Steve was such a tough guy. Rigel supposed that compared to having to fight for your food every day, running from a couple of assassins sent by an evil millionaire was not that big of a deal. Steve had always reacted calmly, thinking ahead. And then Rigel thought back on his own reactions during the chase, his near-constant panic and the way he had been—and still was—trying to make sense of the new, ruthless reality he was trapped in because of Atlas’s machinations. He imagined that to Steve he must have appeared like a pampered city boy, terrified of anything that was not his predictable and comfortable routine.
