26 - CLARA

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

M y dreams are filled with those last few words of his. I've got no chance at all, have I ? It even comes through in his voice.

And for some reason, these words bother me. Because in the dream we are clearly together. Laughing, and smiling, and sometimes even arguing like couples do, with the familiar sense that this person you're with can take who you really are and you can be yourself with them without having to fear that they will misread you, or, worse, give up on you.

It's a good dream, but kinda sad too. And I'm not sure why. My mind is spinning with scenarios when I catch the sound of coins clanging against glass. I open my eyes just in time to see Tyse—shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxer shorts—reaching into the jar where he keeps his tip money. When he turns, his eyes meet mine, but he doesn't say anything. Just walks over to the door where a man is waiting and he trades the coins for one of those phones he uses to receive messages.

After the door closes, he turns to me, holding up a finger. "I have to take this." Then he ducks into the kitchen where he proceeds to talk in a low voice.

I look up at the ceiling and realize there's writing and drawings up there. Something very old, probably. Sloppy, and hurried, and faded, the words say ‘Sparktopia was here' in large, looping red letters that billow across a white banner that spans an image of a black tower.

Certainly not something Tyse did. At least it doesn't come off as his handiwork, but what do I know? I met the guy two days ago.

I catch him saying, "Be there in a few," in a low voice before turning to me. He sets the phone down on the small countertop and meets my gaze. "I've got work today. I've got to leave and I'll probably be gone until after dark."

"Oh." I'm disappointed and this one word comes out before I have time to rein that disappointment in.

"But I've got an idea for ya. A way to spend your time. A job."

I sit up, pulling the covers around me. "A job?"

"With Rodge. Down on Eight where they have the services. He'll give ya work, he's always short-staffed." Tyse pauses to smile here. "So you can pay me back for the clothes and shit."

Is he serious about the payback? I can't tell. I get the feeling that Tyse Saarinen has more coin to his name than he lets on. Sure, he lives in a free tower with spark addicts, doesn't have a regular job, and is suffering from a biological tech mistake that has clearly derailed his life, but he's not the least bit desperate. There's an air of satisfaction about him and people worried about coin don't act satisfied.

"It's a good job, trust me. Having Rodge on your side is a huge plus in this tower, Clara."

"I'm not complaining. You don't have to sell it to me. I'll do it. What else am I gonna do? Stay here all day and snoop through your shit?" I laugh, because it's a joke, but Tyse doesn't seem to find it funny. "I'm kidding. Geez. Lighten up."

Tyse shrugs. "Whatever. I don't care if you snoop. But ya better be careful, you might not like what you find."

"What does that mean?"

But he doesn't answer me. Just turns, goes into the bathroom, pulls the curtain closed behind him, and a few seconds later all I hear is the sound of a shower.

I blow out a breath, wondering for the millionth time if any of this is real.

It doesn't seem likely that three days ago I had a completely different life in another… world? Time? Not sure. But I was there, in that version of Tau City. And while I had to agree to some seriously unpleasant conditions regarding a certain god inside a tower, in the grand scheme of things it was not all that bad.

I had a boyfriend—maybe not officially, like with quotes around it and shit, but everyone knew that Finn and I were a thing. That we were getting married. I had my own floor of rooms, and my little circle of friends, not to mention more coin than I could ever spend. My social calendar was overflowing with dates, and galas, and dinners, and events. Plus the odd tryst whenever Finn and I could pull one together.

Now I'm living with a stranger in a seedy one-room apartment inside the very tower I just walked into a few days ago, except… it's not that tower at all. I own one set of clothing, have no coin to my name, and my immediate destiny lies with a man named Rodge who is perpetually understaffed.

Which begs the question… why is he always short-staffed? Is he a dick? Is he cheap? Does he smell?

A chortle escapes past my lips because it's… insane. That's it. That's the only word to describe my life at the moment. It just makes no logical sense at all.

The shower stops and the bathroom curtain swishes back open. Tyse appears, soaking wet and completely naked. His eyes find mine as he reaches for a towel folded neatly on a shelf. But he doesn't smile as my mouth drops open in surprise, just shrugs. "Sorry for the flash, but I don't normally have guests so I didn't properly think this moment through ahead of time."

Then he snatches the towel and disappears back behind the curtain. Only to reappear a few seconds later with the towel wrapped around his waist.

My mouth is still open in surprise when his eyes find mine again. "You're rethinking it now, aren't ya?"

I shake myself out of the shock. "What?"

"That ‘not even a tiny one' threat you threw at me last night." He chooses some clothes off another shelf, then disappears one more time to change.

I haven't even recovered from the sight of his ‘flash,' as he called it, when he once again reappears, wet, but dressed. He grabs his boots from near the door and then walks over to the chair under the window and takes a seat.

His grin is wide and he watches me as he slips his feet inside his boots and starts lacing them up. "Well?"

"Well what? Am I… rethinking you ?" I huff. Because… well. I kind of am.

"No. Are ya gonna get out of bed and get dressed? Because if not, I'll leave ya here and you can make your way down to Eight and introduce yourself to Rodge without my help. I'm in a hurry. Stayn's got work for me and it's kind of important."

Well… this is awkward. Because no, I do not want to go down to Eight and explain to a man I never met that I now work for him. But also, I do not want to get out of bed wearing nothing but underwear under this shirt just so he can make fun of me again.

Except I don't seem to have a choice. So I can either be shy about it, or flash him back.

I throw the covers off, swing my legs over the side of the bed opposite him, and let him get a good, long look at my ruffled backside as I slowly stand and stretch my arms up to the ceiling, feigning a yawn.

"I like them, by the way."

I turn to him, smile sweetly, and nod. "I know. You told me that last night. Did you see them in your dreams?"

Tyse just continues to grin as I grab my pants off the footstool, then shake them out and pull them up my legs. He watches me the entire time. Like he's mesmerized.

Which is, not gonna lie, kinda thrilling. Tyse Saarinen is not my type. At all. If he were living in my version of the world, he'd be living down-city for sure. I would not even look at him twice.

Well. OK, if I saw him—as in, had the opportunity to see him—I probably would look twice. More than twice, maybe. Because this image he's projecting—it says seedy one-room apartment, dangerous backstory, and if you look too hard, you'll probably be sorry.

But it works for him.

The muscles, the tattoos, the facial hair. I was never into the facial hair back home, but that's probably because I never saw Finn with it.

I walk over to the door, get my boots, and then sit on the edge of the bed as I put them on.

Tyse clears his throat. Like he's snapping himself back into the moment. And possibly out of a fantasy about me, perhaps? "Do you think you'll be OK here today without me?"

I side-eye him as I lean over, lacing my boots. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He holds up his hand, one finger raised. "Ya claim to come from another world." He holds up another finger. "I'm literally the only person you know." He holds up a third finger. "Not to sound disparaging, Clara, but you come off as… a bit of a princess."

"Well… thank you. I guess. I am kind of a princess. A haughty one at that. But I'm not stupid, Tyse. And I'm not socially awkward, either. In fact, socializing is probably my only true skill in life—if you don't count dancing and dressmaking, I guess."

"Talking, dancing, and dressmaking. Well. You might just be the most employable person in this whole fuckin' tower." But he's shaking his head and laughing at me as he walks across the room, buckles his weapon belt to his hip, and pans his hand towards the door. "Let's get you busy, then."

Rodge is a dark-skinned man with a bright smile. Much to my relief, he does not smell, nor is he a dick. In fact, he's quite charming. His accent makes every word that comes out of his mouth sound musical. It's nothing I've ever heard before. Tyse has a weird accent too, but Rodge's accent is different.

I am introduced, we shake hands, and Tyse explains that I am a very smart, capable friend of his and I am looking for work.

Rodge immediately makes an offer. "How about maid? I always need maids. Do you clean?"

Tyse holds up a hand. "No. Not a maid."

"Ooooookay." Rodge's eyes roll up to the ceiling as he rethinks. "How about… runner? You look fit. I bet you could run those stairs?—"

Tyse presses that hand forward. "No. Not runner. Something here, on the eighth. Something that doesn't require her to leave your sight."

Rodge makes a knowing expression and he nods. "Ohhhhh. I see." He studies me again. "Well, in that case, you are my new customer helper. You stand there." He points to a space behind a long, wide counter. It's the end destination for the literally hundreds of people in line waiting for service. "And you take orders and fill up bags. Sounds good?" He's not looking at me for approval, though. He's looking at Tyse.

"Yes, that's perfect. And"—Tyse leans in towards Rodge a little—"I do need a maid. My place is a fuckin' mess. Send someone down to clean it all up before she knocks off for the day." Then Tyse looks at me. "Sorry to leave you like this, but I gotta go. I'll see ya tonight."

He turns and walks off, that weapon of his banging against his hip as he leaves.

I turn back to Rodge and smile my biggest professional Spark Maiden smile. "I guess I'm all yours."

I spend the first hour shadowing Rodge as he fills order slips. Before the tower residents can enter the store, they interact with a teenage girl at the main entrance, who is Rodge's daughter, Prisha. Residents tell Prisha what they need, she writes it down on a pad of paper and then gives it to them and they move forward in the line so that by the time they get to Rodge and me, all we have to do is fill the order they give us.

It's all very efficient because everyone knows what to expect.

I like that. It's comforting to be in a state of… sameness. Routines are easy. Because as the hours pass, I relax and almost seamlessly start to become one of them. A resident of the tower.

The store is more than basic goods. On the far end of the big room is another room where people do laundry in machines. I can't really see much from behind the counter where I'm filling orders because there are so many people in the way, but every time there is a gap in the crowd, I lean in, desperate to see what a washing machine looks like in this world.

I haven't done my own laundry in a decade, but when I was in charge of it, our machine did not make noise like the ones in there.

"They run off jumps."

"Huh?" I turn, surprised at Rodge's voice in my ear.

"You've been pretty curious about the laundromat all morning. The machines run off jumps. That's how we power them. The laundromat is a joint venture with myself and the gentlemen on the other side of the tower who sell jolts and jumps. I provide machines and labor, they provide the jumps. It's very expensive, but…" Rodge shrugs. "Some residents of the tower have the coin, so we are happy to wash their clothes for them. Tyse always has us wash his clothes. He's got coin, you know. War pensions for augments—even defective ones—are very generous. Don't let his meager existence fool you."

I smile. "Yes. You're probably right about that. But… what's a jump?"

"Oh!" Rodge's eyebrows go up. "You are very new, aren't you?"

I smile meekly and shrug. "Yes."

Rodge continues to work as he talks, taking a slip and handing to me for filling. "Jolts and jumps are packages of spark. It's all around us in here, but just in small bits. The gentlemen on the other side of the tower can collect the spark from the air and package it into potent jolts and even stronger jumps. You're not addicted, I take it?"

I'm dropping little bars of food into the order bag when I answer. "Uhh… I don't think so?"

"Well, if you stay much longer, you will be. So be careful. Maybe you could talk Tyse into leaving when you go."

I turn and hand him the bag, now filled. "Why would I do that?"

Rodge takes the bag and hands it to the resident with a smile. "Five meal bars, five coins, Regina."

Regina—an older woman with very messy gray hair and wearing clothes that look like they have never seen the inside of that laundromat—looks pained as she counts out five coins on the counter. But she doesn't complain and before she turns to leave with her bag of food bars, she even gives us a smile. "Thank you. See you next time."

Rodge gives her a small wave, then takes another order slip and hands it to me, picking up our conversation where we left off. "Tyse doesn't belong here, Clara. He belongs…" Rodge's eyes drift over to the window—which is actually a large cutout in the side of the building, outside of which is the dumbwaiter system that, for the right price, can get any resident of the tower anything they might need from the city. "Out there." Rodge points in a seemingly random direction, which I interrupt to mean Tau City. But then when Rodge adds, "Where he came from," I realize that's not what he means at all.

"He belongs back in…" I search my memory for the name of the city Tyse said he came from as I start filling up the new order bag. "Delta?"

"No." Rodge laughs. "Not Delta City. The Omega Outlands, of course. He hasn't told you about it?"

"He mentioned it. Kinda of." I just have no idea what he was talking about, but I don't add that part. "It was something to do with his soldiering?"

"Oh, very much. The Omega Outlands is nothing but augments."

"That's the stuff in his eyes," I say, handing Rodge the now-filled bag. "That makes him glow blue and show him words."

Rodge gives me one of his surprised looks—which I rather enjoy because his face is so animated. "You've seen it!"

"Yeah. But… I think it's acting up, or something. He was kind of surprised when it happened."

"Oooooo." Rodge's expression is so comically astounded, I let out a chuckle. "That is something very interesting."

Or, I postulate, something I was not supposed to talk about.

I think he gets this impression as well, because he changes the subject back to our original topic. "Jumps are very big packages of power. The men on the other side of Eight, they sell the spark to people who have been here too long. They need more and more of it to function, so the packages come in different sizes. Jumps are the largest available."

"Define ‘too long,' as far as being in the tower goes."

"Well, it's different for everyone. I've been here twenty years, myself. But I don't live in the tower. My family and I live on the far edge of the ruins outside. So none of us have ever been in the field for more than ten hours at a time. We're addicted, like everyone else on this edge of town. But we can leave and we're not affected much. We even took a vacation back home last year for two whole weeks!" He smiles like he's proud of this. "We could've stayed longer, but Tau City is home now. Thetaiota is where we came from, not where we belong."

"Hmm. Is Prisha your only child?"

"Oh, god, no." Rodge laughs. "She is my baby of nine. But they have all grown and left us behind. That's why I am perpetually understaffed." He pauses to make another astonished face. "Oooh! I almost forgot. I need to send Prisha up to clean Tyse's room. Do you think you could take orders now?"

I nod. "Yes. I can do that. But… maybe I could clean Tyse's room? I mean, I am living there now. Plus, it would be a shame to disrupt the flow in here with my inevitable mistakes." I nod my head towards Prisha. "There's always a learning curve, isn't there?"

Rodge is not convinced. "Tyse instructed me to keep you within my sight. If you go up and clean his room, I would not be able to see you."

"But I'd just be in his room. I would close the door. No one will come in, it's Tyse ."

Rodge laughs. "He's quite intimidating, isn't he?"

"He certainly can be." But my mind flashes back to Tyse standing over the bed last night, looking down at me. I've got no chance at all, have I ? He didn't look intimidating at all in that moment. He looked almost vulnerable.

And the fact of the matter is, I'm stuck here. After walking outside yesterday and realizing that there is really no way back, I've come to terms with it. This is my new life and, by luck or destiny, Tyse is now the man in it.

Which means he does have a chance. I mean… Finn sent me into the tower . He literally gave me away. It wasn't to Tyse, it was to the god. But it might as well have been Tyse. Because he's what I found on the other side of those black tower doors.

"Well." Rodge has been considering my offer, and now he lets out a sigh. "It would be more practical to have you clean, since you live there. And I do believe you would be safe. I will walk you up and drop you off, and then I will have fulfilled my promise to Tyse."

I beam a smile at him. "Perfect."

Rodge hands the filled bag over to the resident, collects his coins, and then points to the next resident in line. "Be right back."

I am loaded up with a rack across my shoulders with buckets hanging off the edges, perfectly balanced so I can carry them. Each bucket contains cleaning supplies, plus fresh linen and towels.

Then Rodge walks me back up to ten and deposits me inside Tyse's room. "I'll be back in three hours to walk you back down and close out the day. Good?"

I nod. "Very good. Thank you, Rodge."

It's not that I'm eager to clean—god, it's been a decade since I've done that too—I just want to snoop. I did, after all, get permission to do that.

This permission also came with a warning: Ya better be careful, you might not like what you find . But there's not much in this place.

Whatever personal items I find, they will be small.

So how bad could they be?

Maybe I haven't cleaned my own rooms since I moved into the Little Sister dorm over a decade ago, but I have been watching the maids that whole time. Which doesn't make me an expert or anything, but I have a general idea of how to start this whole cleaning-a-room process.

I am not a snoop by trade or habit, so I don't start there. Discovering things should happen organically. While dusting, probably, since I will have to pick up every trinket, personal item, and scrap of paper in order to clean under it.

So I begin with stripping the bed and replacing the sheets. Then I sweep the floor, wipe up the ‘kitchen'—which is really nothing but a countertop—and then wipe down the bathroom.

Once all the gross stuff is out of the way I start on the fun stuff—all the little things he's collected over the years. Which is a considerable time if he's lived in this same room since he stopped soldiering.

Unfortunately, there's really not much to find. He's not messy, per se. There are no old food bags lying around or anything like that. His personal items are mostly useful things. I find quite a few dead phones. Two lost in the cushions of the chair alone. Also, a lot of notes. Not anything fun, like a love note. Mostly they are just scraps of paper with a few words or numbers scribbled on them. Appointments, I think, because they often have times attached.

I don't throw any of the notes away, just find an empty jar on a kitchen shelf and stuff them all inside just in case he was saving them on purpose. But I don't think he was. I think Tyse has his room cleaned by Rodge's daughter, Prisha, quite regularly because there's not even a lot of dust.

At this point, the sun outside is beginning to set and I've pretty much given up on the idea of learning secret things about Tyse from snooping. Then a knock at the door startles me.

I just stare at it for a moment, wondering who it could be.

Maybe… his friend Anneeta?

But also, maybe that creepy guy down the hall who was caught looking at me and got a very hard shove for his troubles?

"Clara?"

I walk to the door, open it, and find Prisha staring back at me. "Father says it's quitting time. He's sorry he didn't come back two hours ago, like he promised. We got swamped. Do you have dirty linens for me?"

"Oh. Yes, I do." I put them all in a pile on the floor when I stripped the bed, so I load them back onto the bucket contraption and take it back to Prisha. She reaches for it and expertly balances it across her shoulders like she's been doing this sort of thing her whole life. "Did I take too long, Prisha?"

Prisha cocks a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Take too long ?" She's not wearing a lot of make-up, but she is wearing some. And it is very clear that she does not live in this tower. Even if Rodge didn't inform me of that fact, I could tell. Her dress is simple, but a very fine, high-quality linen in a pale yellow that looks very attractive against her dark skin. It's a straight dress with long bell sleeves and ends just above the knee. Every seam is trimmed in light blue silk ribbons.

It's not fancy, but it's also very far from plain and it reminds me of something I might've worn to a luncheon with the Canal District ladies in my past life.

Prisha is also wearing a lot of jewelry. Gold bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. I would be a little hesitant to wear all that treasure on my person in a place like the tower, but I guess if you're Rodge's daughter, people know better than to mess with you.

Prisha might work in a down-city tower, but she is up-city all the way.

"Yeah," I say. "The day is over and I barely just got done. I was too slow, wasn't I?"

Prisha chuckles. "Dear Clara, no one expects you to work . Tyse has asked my father to watch you. Having you work is just how he fulfills that request. It's the same for me." She shrugs up one shoulder, like she doesn't mind.

"But you are very efficient. I saw you this morning."

"Because what else do I have to do? If I have to come to work with my father every day, I might as well be nice to people and do things expeditiously. Oh! Before I forget. Here."

This is when I notice that there is a small package wrapped in brown paper tucked under her arm. She thrusts the package at me. "And this too." Then she reaches into a pocket and withdraws a coin, holding it out for me on her palm. "Don't spend it all in one place."

I take the coin, then point to the package. "But… what is this?"

"A gift from Father. He likes you and he's very generous to people he likes. See you tomorrow!" She waves, then turns, walking back towards the stairs.

"Thank you!" I call. "See you tomorrow!" I close the door then sit down on the chair and place the package and coin on the footrest. One coin. Is this what I can expect from a day's work? I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter because it belongs to Tyse, anyway. I owe him for the clothes I'm currently wearing. Not to mention the dinner last night and whatever else he's keeping a tab of.

The package is medium-sized and squishy, so I'm prepared for there to be clothes inside before I open it, but I am not prepared for the quality of garment I remove from the packaging.

It's a dress, nearly identical to the one Prisha was wearing, but dyed the absolute lightest shade of desert green and trimmed in silk ribbons the color of sand.

My smile is big when I lean back in the chair, holding the dress to my chest, because this dress makes me both satisfied and happy in a way I don't really have an explanation for.

I have been given many gifts over the last decade. Too many dresses to count. But all the gifts that came from being a Spark Maiden felt like… well, I hate to say bribes, but that is how they felt. ‘Insincere' might be a better way to describe it. Meant to kindle my favor in some future transaction. In other words, they were all tied to an expectation.

None of those gifts or dresses were special to me personally and all of them were taken for granted.

But this is not a transaction, it's a true gift from a man who knows I have nothing to give in return. So I do not take this one for granted and I hold it up again so I can take in all the details, feeling truly happy in a way I never expected, I squeal as I kick my feet against the footstool like a new Little Sister who just got her first look at the dorm.

This kicking sends the footstool tipping over backwards. And this tipping of the footstool is how I accidentally discover Tyse's first secret. Because the top of the footstool flips open to reveal a hidden compartment inside. I place the dress on the freshly made bed and get down on my knees to have a peek.

Inside the footstool is a wooden box about the size of my palm. I pick it up, find it to be heavy, and weigh it in my hand as I deliberate the pros and cons of looking at the contents.

If I look, my curiosity will be satisfied and I will undoubtedly learn more about Tyse.

But then his warning comes back to me. You might not like what you find .

Fuck it. I open the box and find stacks and stacks of gold coins tightly packed together with a clear piece of glass, or something like it, over the top of them. They are packed so tight I get the impression that the box was made to hold coins specifically, because they do not jiggle at all. Not even after the box was tipped over with the stool.

The only other thing inside the box is a small circular silver disc, even smaller than a coin, that has been taped to the inside of the lid.

I huff. Well, this was a bust. But that's when I notice that the little disc has writing on it. I squint, but the tape obscures the message just enough so I can't read it. So I carefully peel the tape off and grasp the outer edges of the disc between the tips of my forefinger and thumb as I hold it up to the light. It says ‘Capt. T. Jarvinen' on the first line and the numbers one-seven-one-seven-two-three on the second line.

Immediately, my face scrunches up into a frown. "Well, this is yet another a big fat nothing." Then I pinch the flat sides of the disc, ready to put it back, when a spark shoots through my body, forcing me to stand up and release it.

My mouth is open in stunned surprise as I watch the little metal disc roll across the floor and into the kitchen, where it teeters and falls over on one side.

"What the hell?" I look down at myself, checking to see if I'm OK, then draw in a long breath as I try and work out what just happened.

That thing shocked me . With some kind of power. I can still feel a tingle in my fingertips from where I touched it. But when I look down at my hand, there's no sign of a burn or anything.

"Static," I say out loud. Even in my world we have static. Little bits of power that hide in the air and collect on windy days. So when you touch certain things—like fabrics—the little bits of power are released and a tiny shock can be produced.

But this was more than a tiny shock. It was… a jolt .

Immediately, Rodge's words from this morning come back to me. " The gentlemen on the other side of the tower can collect the spark from the air and package it into potent jolts and even stronger jumps ."

That's how they sell the spark.

This must be one of those. A jolt or a jump. And Tyse must've been saving it up for something, that's why it was in the box.

Shit, I hope I didn't just use it all up. Rodge said it's all very pricey. That's all I need, more debt to Tyse. It's already gonna take me forever to pay him back if I'm only getting one coin a day.

I need to put it back and pretend I never found this box or his secret hiding place. That way, he'll never know it was me who used his jolt.

Stepping away from the footstool, I eyeball the disc cautiously. How do I pick it up without shocking myself again? This is when I realize the edges must be insulated. Because it didn't shock me when I held it on edge between my fingertips. Only when I pressed the pads of them on the flat sides to put it away.

Is that the secret to holding a jolt? Touch it only on the edges?

Should I go down to Rodge and ask?

But Prisha said the day was over so he's probably gone. And even though I wouldn't admit it to Tyse, I am a little bit scared of the people in the tower. Especially that guy down the hall. I would not want to run into him again without Tyse or Rodge with me.

The thing is the size of a button. Surely I can handle it.

But I eyeball it as I walk towards the kitchen, picturing in my mind's eye how I will grasp it just along the edges and place it back under the lid of the box, put the box away, and pretend this never happened.

When the little disc is at my feet, I let out a breath and bend down, hesitantly reaching for it. The shock it gave me wasn't horrible, but it wasn't pleasant, either. And I'm not eager to experience it again.

I position my fingers, lower them down, and pinch the edges.

Immediately, I'm shocked again, but the shock is already gone by the time I realize it's happened, and a burst of animated light takes its place.

I let go and the light disappears.

Then I just sit there on the kitchen floor, mouth open and eyes blinking, trying to make sense of what I just saw. "What was that?" These words come out in a whisper.

Light. I know that much. But it was more than light. There were… people in that light. And they were moving.

I stare at the little button of trouble, wondering what to do now. Just leave it there and wait for Tyse to come home? Is it some kind of jump or jolt? And did I use it all up?

Definitely not. I did not use it up, but I also don't think it's a jump or a jolt. It's something else. Something…

I reach for it again before I talk myself out of it. And the moment my fingers touch the edges, the light springs out again. This time, there is no shock at all, confirming that this is not a hit of energy for spark addicts.

Then I hear voices and they are coming right out of the light.

Without dropping it, I scramble to stand up. And as I move, the… image—that's the only word I have for this light, because that's what it is—the image moves with me, but maintains a certain proportion. Which is not exactly true to life. Bits of the image are stretched out in some places and squashed in others.

"Attention," someone in the light says. "Discharge number A-14-7-TJ, Captain Tymothy Jarvinen."

Then Tyse's face appears. Big too. So there's no mistaking that this is him. It's just a head, and it's not real, just another light image. I know this because it rotates in a circle and the numbers just recited by the person in charge, I guess, are floating across his forehead.

"Did your advisors explain the proceedings, Capt. Jarvinen?"

When his mouth opens and answers with a curt, "Yes, sir," I am so shocked, I almost drop the disc.

"You are being discharged from the Sweep Army for high crimes against your own team. Was this explained to you?"

What ? I lean in. Did I hear that correctly? High crimes?

"Yes, sir."

"This is your official record to be presented to any future employers."

Tyse lets out an incredulous scoff here. " Future employers? That's almost fuckin' funny."

The officiator looks displeased at the interruption, but seems to be in a hurry—or maybe it's not his job to correct Tyse—so he just skips over the outburst. "The stipulations of your discharge are very strict and I will recite them now to make sure you understand."

"Trust me, administrator, I'm very familiar with the details."

"You will refrain from comment. This meeting is not about you, it's about procedure. Something you obviously have trouble with."

The eyes on the floating head of Tyse roll in scorn. Clearly these two people are not in the same room. Tyse is somewhere else and his head is being projected into the space where the administrator is. This is not any kind of technology I have seen before, and this assumption about being in different locations would be ridiculous in my world. But after my trip to the health center, anything seems possible in this version of Tau City.

Regardless, the substance of the meeting is clear. Tyse messed up in some major way and he's getting kicked out of the Sweep Army.

Something he sort of admitted to, in a way, but certainly didn't explain to this level of detail. But then again, why would he? I'm a complete stranger. One doesn't go around announcing life-altering mistakes to strangers.

I'm about to let go of the disc and put it back—this is really none of my business, even if he is using a fake name these days—but then a new projection takes the place of Tyse's head.

It's still, not moving, but appears to be the middle of some kind of action. War action. Five people are shown mid- movement, but frozen in time. They are all wearing the same kind of uniform, though small details about it are different. For instance, the one woman has her sleeves cut off. Another man, not Tyse, is only wearing some kind of thick vest up top, but nothing underneath. It looks like they're in a desert cave and something very stressful is happening because all their expressions convey shock, and fear, and pain.

"I was there," the voice of Tyse says. "I remember it vividly. So you can skip the replay."

"Sorry, Mr. Jarvinen?—"

"Mr., is it now? What happened to Captain?"

"When this final meeting is over, your ranking will have been stripped and there will be no public record of it anywhere."

Since Tyse's face has been replaced with the soldier scene, I can't see his reaction. But I think he's pissed. Like maybe this part hadn't been explained to him.

"As I was saying," the administrator continues, "this is procedure. Close your eyes if you don't want to see it, because the replay starts now."

And then all the soldiers spring to life. There is sound, but it's low, so I can't really make out the words. Plus, everyone is in a panic. Something very terrible is happening. Then one of them—the woman—falls to her knees, screaming and holding her head like her brain might explode. This part I do hear, because her screams are so loud, there's no way to miss it.

"It's inside me, Tyse! It's inside me! Get it out! Get it out!"

The next thing I know, her head explodes. Bits of bone and blood just go everywhere. I'm so shocked, I almost drop the little disc. Not even sure how I manage to keep hold of it.

Because whatever she meant by her last frantic words, whatever was inside her head—that wasn't what exploded it.

It was Tyse.

The scene switches to another point of view and there he is, with some kind of weapon, still smoking from the discharge, pointed where her head used to be.

Then another soldier is screaming. A man, the one wearing only that thick vest. And he's saying similar things. It's inside me. Get it out. The other two soldiers start up as well. And then Tyse discharges his weapon three more times and all the heads explode.

He puts the weapon up to his own head and I gasp. Even though I know he didn't kill himself, it's still shocking to me. Then he waits—eyes closed and gulping down breaths—for whatever invaded his team's minds to invade his as well.

The scene ends and Tyse's floating and rotating face is back. His eyes are closed here now too. Like maybe he didn't watch the replay.

"You were accused and found guilty of murdering your own team. This is a high crime in the eyes of?—"

"I had to." Tyse cuts him off, spitting these words out between gritted teeth. "They were infected ."

"The trial is over, Mr. Jarvinen, so save it. The conditions of your sentencing and discharge are the following?—"

I let go of the disc and the image disappears.

He killed four people. Just… blew their heads off.

Of course, as a soldier, he'd have killed many people. Dozens? Hundreds? Does it matter?

The take-home message here is that Tyse Saarinen is lying about his identity and he's a convicted murderer.

I pinch the disc again, the image appears again, and I watch it all the way through again.

Then again.

And again.

And again.