The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) by Ramona Finn (no david read aloud .txt) 📕

I had my own plans, none of which involved watching or eating fish. Or peeping them. I’ll do better, I’d told Lock, and I’d meant it.

I caught the next train after everyone had left and rode it to the town center. I traced our steps from Elli’s tour back to Lazrad Corp. My heart leapt as I realized Elli had lied—I walked in the front door unchallenged, across the great marble atrium, to a bank of glass-walled elevators. I pressed the button and one came, but the door didn’t open. I pressed again and it buzzed, a fussy little sound.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I jabbed the button, more urgently this time. It buzzed louder.

“Miss?”

“What?” I turned to confront a uniformed guard, fancier than the ones I was used to. He wore a suit over his vest, black jacket, red tie. He had dark glasses on, too dark to see his eyes. I glared at him. “Your elevator’s busted.”

“It’s not opening because you failed the retinal scan,” he said. “Are you an invited guest?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Visitors stay on the ground floor.” He slid between me and the elevator bank. “Café’s to your left, gift shop to your right. If you want to apply for a tour, stop by the front desk and add your name to the list. We’re booked a year in advance, so I wouldn’t wait too long.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Have a nice day.”

Heads turned my way as I retraced my steps. I could feel my neck burning, a new kind of embarrassment I’d never felt in the Dirt—a sense of not knowing things everyone knew. Of being the butt of some joke I’d never understand.

I stood outside, fuming, the sun beating down on my head. So much for doing better. So much for getting anywhere. Past the Lazrad Corp building, past the park with the horses, a white bridge spanned the river. I’d tried to cross it one time. A wall of guards had appeared, as though from nowhere—sorry, miss. Quarantine district. Strictly off-limits. They were everywhere, invisible gatekeepers, lurking in the cracks. And then there were the visible ones standing watch at every corner, patrolling along the river. You didn’t notice them at first, grey and dull against the glittering backdrop, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. And they noticed you. They noticed everything.

I started back toward the station, sticky and sweaty and out-of-sorts. I might have gone back to the house, then, if not for the heat. The sky was cloudless that day, the sun blazing bright. I found myself drawn to the library, to the cool waft of AC.

“Excuse me, miss.”

I froze on the threshold. Again?

“Sorry to bother you.” An older woman beckoned me to her desk. “Only, I recognize you. There was an article in the Post—you just Ascended, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So you’ll need a library card.” She held up a phone reader, like the pay points in shops. “Don’t worry. It just takes a second. I beam your card to your phone, and you can check out whatever you like.”

“Oh.” I peeled my phone off my wrist, relaxing slightly. “What kinds of books do you have?”

“What are you looking for?”

I held up my phone, and it chirped. “History, I guess. Anything about here.” I gestured vaguely at the city. “It’s weird being new. I thought I might fit in better if I understood... how Sky got the way it is.”

“Tenth floor, past the reading nook.” The librarian smiled. “If you have trouble finding anything, tap the library app on your phone. You can call one of us to help you, or there’s an auto-lookup feature.”

“Thanks.” I jammed my phone in my pocket and headed for the elevators. This time, no one stopped me. I felt myself breathe again as I stepped out on ten. The floor was deserted, as far as I could see. It had a dusty smell, like Jasper’s lab. A line of computers stood along one wall, screensavers dancing on their monitors. A circle of overstuffed chairs nuzzled up to a round table—the reading nook, I guessed. I made my way past it and picked a shelf at random, running my finger along the spines. The books all had long titles—Lady Katharine Lazrad: A Study in Civic Vision. Empire without Fall – Building the Echelon Paradigm. I picked one with a frayed cover, figuring the rattiest must be oldest. I had to start somewhere, and the beginning seemed as good a place as any.

I noticed two things as I worked my way down the aisle. First, nearly every book was dedicated to Lazrad herself. Second, I couldn’t read well enough to make sense of them. I lost myself in sentences that doubled in on themselves, sounded out words that felt foreign on my tongue. Lady Lazrad’s vision of non-exclusive gentrification allowed burgeoning commercial districts to take root alongside luxurious housing developments in a way that, rather than resulting in mass displacements, encouraged a—

I slammed the book shut and let my brow knock against the shelf. “Yeah. Lazrad’s perfect. I get it.” The air conditioning kissed the back of my neck. I shivered, not from the chill, but from the sudden sense of being watched. I looked up—no cameras—and checked down the aisle. No one was there. I spotted a man one row over, a black shape through the stacks, and made a space to look through at him. He seemed absorbed in his own reading, oblivious to my presence.

I went back to my book and tried to focus. The words ran together on the page, more impenetrable than ever.

“Meet me on twelve in fifteen minutes.”

I dropped my book on my foot. The man was looking right at me, over the rims of his glasses. He had a Lazrad Corp ID swinging on a cord around his neck.

“What—”

He shoved a book at me, cutting off my line of sight. When I pulled it out, he was gone. I thought of ignoring him, grabbing a book or two for later and beating a retreat.