Chapter 9
Getting back to the Crawl wasn’t as easy as leaving it. When I finally reached the road with the entrance, Byte announced, Be careful: there is a surveillance drone in the vicinity.
I flattened against the wall. “Where?”
Seventy-four meters to your right. It is currently hovering above the intersection. I would not be surprised if it is looking for us.
“Do you think we were spotted?”
Highly unlikely. Otherwise, there would be a dozen drones in the vicinity already.
“Let me know when it leaves.” I kept my voice low. I didn’t know if drones had microphones on them or if they only used visual cues, but I didn’t want to take a chance.
Visually scan the skyline. That will help me monitor for threats.
I did as Byte instructed even though I couldn’t see much in the darkness. I also strained to hear anything, but I couldn’t pick up the drone’s small rotor or its spinning blades.
I have identified the drone’s location. Look twelve degrees to your right.
I did, and Byte said, That was forty-three degrees. You are not very good at math.
“Grandmother told me I was great at math.”
She was obviously lying.
I closed my eyes.
I cannot see.
“Apologize.”
That is a petty action.
“Apologize. Grandmother is not a liar.”
I am sorry for accusing Grandmother of falsehood even though there is a distinct discrepancy between her words and your apparent math skills.
“That was an awful apology.” Still, I opened my eyes and looked upward in the area I thought Byte wanted.
Fortunately, you have enough peripheral vision that I can identify the drone. It is flying at three miles per hour away from us, parallel to the northbound road. You may proceed quietly.
I crept along the walls of the vacant buildings lining the road.
I’d considered hiding in one, but these buildings were controlled by street gangs, and that could bring me an even faster—and more painful—death than what the enforcers would deliver.
As I tiptoed, I was so quiet that I could hear my breathing.
I took small inhalations to try to be even quieter, but when I did that, I only thought harder about breathing, which made my lungs convinced they weren’t getting enough oxygen.
I took a deep breath and tried to reset my breathing.
Finally, when I reached the point that I’d have to step out onto the road, I asked Byte, “Still all clear?”
From the drone, yes. However, I detect a patrol vehicle. I estimate it is about three blocks from here but heading in this direction.
“Great.” I gave up subterfuge and sprinted across the road. I searched for the cover but couldn’t find it, so I got down on my hands and knees and began running my hands across the ground.
The entrance is two feet to your left.
I reached out and found the lines and pulled at it.
The cover was heavy—solid steel—and it was difficult to get my fingertips under it.
But adrenaline helped me lift it a couple of inches to where I could slide my hand under and pull it high enough to swing my legs through.
The instant I found the ladder, I grabbed hold and climbed inside, letting the cover slam shut above me.
You are not very quiet.
“Yeah, well, running for my life makes me a little nervous.”
I hurriedly descended the ladder in case I was followed, and once I hit the ground, I took off running through the tunnel. Since it was late night, the tunnels were empty, though I knew the Crawl had their own gangs who likely prowled throughout the night.
After several minutes, I decided I wasn’t being followed, and I slowed to a walk.
I was panting, but I wasn’t coughing. I should’ve been passed out from lack of air by now.
I didn’t know why that old lady gave me Byte, but it felt good— really good— to be able to breathe and not be exhausted all the damn time.
Was I glad she gave me the amp? Hell, no.
If I would’ve walked by that alley like anyone with half of a brain would’ve done, then I’d be upstairs living my life… same with Nolan.
The number one rule in Dreswick is to never get on the enforcers’ radar.
Yeah, I broke that one.
“Are these tunnels all clear?” I asked quietly.
I detect no sounds.
I glanced at the painted numbers and turned down another tunnel.
I had a long way to go—I didn’t know how far it was exactly, but it was far enough.
I stopped and took a seat in the decently lit tunnel.
It was about as opposite a place as the alley I’d crashed in earlier, and I hoped it’d be enough.
“Byte, I’m going to take five. This time, wake me a lot sooner if you pick up trouble.”
I will do my best.
My stomach growled, and I tried to ignore it. When it growled again, I gritted my teeth. “Is that you making me hungry all the time?”
As I have told you three times now, I require significant energy to integrate into your body. I should note that your energy requirements will be permanently increased to sustain us. Expect a greater need for both food and rest.
“Great. I need to eat a lot and sleep a lot. Two things that don’t exactly come easy in my current predicament… or really at any time in my life.”
They are minor side effects for the benefits of having a customized personal amplifier.
“Says you.” I tried to doze off—I was exhausted, but my body was also still wired with adrenaline. I might’ve caught about five seconds of sleep before I decided it wasn’t worth it and got to my feet.
What is wrong. I do not detect danger.
“Can’t sleep,” I grumbled. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
That is an odd statement as the dead do not sleep.
I ignored my amp and instead began making my way through the tunnels.
I couldn’t believe how massive the Crawl was—its tunnels spanned easily as many acres as Dreswick, if not more.
I passed by a local every ten minutes or so, but they all kept to themselves.
In fact, down here felt a little like Dreswick, other than the fact that I was in a tunnel rather than in the open air that smelled of bad fish and manufacturing smog.
The air was definitely cleaner down here, which wasn’t saying much.
It didn’t stink, but it did have a staleness to it and smelled of rocks, not that I’d ever noticed how rocks smelled until now.
It wasn’t horrible—it was actually beginning to grow on me.
Two hours. That’s how long it took to find tunnel 39.
By that time, the tunnels had become busier as the crawlers started their day doing who knew what.
A part of me wondered why they worked on the same twenty-four-hour clock as the surface since there was no daylight down here, but I supposed it was probably because enough of them visited the surface.
Or maybe it was because old habits die hard.
Or, more likely, all humans were on a Circadian clock, so using the same one as the rest of the planet was the easiest. Some philosopher probably had a different answer.
I made my way to the branch numbered 12 (or whatever they called the side tunnels), to find the most gorgeous wall art I’d ever seen.
Birds flew over oceans, and animals ran across prairies.
It certainly wasn’t barren TerraSoft-11, but wherever this world was in this artist’s imagination, it sure was beautiful.
Byte announced, I am preparing an update. Prepare for nonoptimal time in seven minutes.
My eyes widened. “Seven min—whoa, wait. No upgrade. Not right now. I need to find this hacker first.”
You have that backward. I need to upgrade first. I do not trust unsanctioned technologists.
At my current operational level, I am not equipped to examine other code and establish necessary protections against hostile code.
Therefore, I have deemed it necessary to prepare an emergency upgrade to my data analysis capabilities prior to contact with this hacker.
“No. That’s a horrible idea.” I rushed to find the 39-12-G before Byte shut down on me—shutting me down in the process.
I was in such a hurry that I almost passed by the door.
Two people entered the hallway from another room, and they shot me a suspicious look.
There was no dumpster to hide behind this time.
I’d be exposed in a tunnel where anyone could do anything.
“Byte, you need to hold off on the update.”
I cannot. I update for our mutual benefit and protection.
“You’re an asshole.” I knocked. When there was no answer, I pounded.
“Through all the stars and endless sea, all it takes is a skeleton key,” a male voice said.
I spun to see a scraggly man with leather skin who looked like he’d been born homeless.
I eyed him. “Yes, Skeleton Key. That’s who I’m looking for. You can get me inside?”
He grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth. “The door is shut, but not to me. I hold the code—a skeleton key.” He cackled then and did a marionette’s dance.
I believe he is clinically insane.
No shit. “Great. You’ve got the key. So can you help me? I’m kind of running short on time here.”
He wagged a finger. “Oh no, it’s not me. No more chains, locks are free, you’ll walk right in with a skeleton key.”
I gave an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I get it. I need a skeleton key to see Skeleton Key. How do I get the key?”
He put his hands on his hips. “No chips, no clue, that’s the deal, pay the man or my lips stay sealed.”
I frowned. “You want a chip, down here? Fine, I’ll give you one.” I flipped him a chip—I only had four left in my pocket.
He caught it with surprisingly fast reflexes and bit into it.
“You got a chip, now tell me how I can get to Skeleton Key,” I said.
He tucked the coin into his pocket. “Knock three times—not two, not four, or else you’ll be left outside the door.”