BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

Tinashe sat up straight, expectant. Weldon watched Naylor whilst eating.

Naylor cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I’m worried about Chase. He’s got wind of another event. He’s determined to go again.”

“What the…?” said Tinashe, eyes wide.

“You’re joking, right?” said Weldon.

Naylor shook his head. “He dropped by my place late last night. He’d been with that woman we met. Ursel. Apparently, she said there’s going to be another show and she’s convinced Wella’s there. Chase is insisting on going to find her.”

“Even after what happened last time?” said Tinashe. “He was lucky to escape arrest. Plenty of people didn’t. What’s he thinking of?”

“What are they thinking of, more like,” hissed Weldon, pushing his food aside. “Users and their fucking Scene. Why can’t they see what they’re doing? The danger they cause for the rest of us? Haven’t they seen outside the Exchange?”

“I know, I know,” said Naylor, trying to keep his voice down. “Look, I’m with you on this. I’ve seen enough of the fall-out. Nothing’s worth the suffering it brings. But, if Ursel’s right about another event, it would suggest the Scene doesn’t view it in quite the same light. And my problem right now is trying to persuade Chase not to go. I know it already; he won’t listen to me. He’s too stubborn. But he might take more on board if it’s coming from all sides.”

“It didn’t stop him last time,” said Weldon.

Tinashe shook her head and sighed. “I can’t imagine he’ll listen to us either, but we’ve got to at least try. Maybe we should change tack. Focus on what Ursel’s told him before, that Wella’s made a choice. She’s where she wants to be.”

“As much as I worry for Wella, you could be right,” said Naylor. “He could risk his life, only for her to insist she wants to stay. But he won’t even consider that. He’s just got this big brother protection thing going on. It’s like he thinks he can somehow make up for Brann by bringing Wella back.”

“For crow’s sake, listen to yourselves,” said Weldon, his voice wavering.

Tinashe and Naylor looked at him, bemused.

“Both of you. All softly softly, balancing on eggshells around him. Chase is a grown man. He’s capable of making his own decisions. And when he went last time, it was the wrong decision. Now he wants to go again. He knows the risks. He’s just proving he’s as selfish as the rest of them.”

“That’s hardly fair—” said Tinashe.

“No. You’re missing the point here. While you’re debating how best to mollify Chase, you’re missing the actual fucking point.” He leant in, face flushed, and whispered through gritted teeth, “There’s going to be another event. It’s all going to happen again.” He could feel tears welling and fought to push them back. “The A are right. It’s the Scene’s fault. Users are the cause. All the terror, all the violence that comes with the raids; we can’t blame the Deaf Squad. It’s all because of the Scene, so why won’t they stop playing? It’s all their fucking fault.” He stood up, hands shaking. “Say what you like to Chase. I don’t care if he goes. If he gets caught, that’s his problem. That’s the score.” He turned and left, bumping into startled diners in his path.

Stunned, Naylor stared in his wake.

Tinashe reached out and touched his arm. “Don’t mind him. He’s got himself wound up over all this. You know what he’s like.”

Naylor nodded and dropped his eyes.

“I know you’re worried for Chase,” she said. “I am too. When he arrives, I’ll find a way to raise the subject. We can both speak to him, try to make him see it differently. He’s stubborn, but he also respects you. If we’re both on the same page, hopefully he’ll at least think about it. I’m with you. It has to be worth a try.”

Naylor was about to speak but then looked up. He pulled his arm from under Tinashe’s hand and sat upright, swallowing hard. “Chase is here. He’s coming over.”

–

Preoccupied by what was to follow, Chase had forgotten he’d arranged to meet everyone at Su-Lin’s. It wasn’t until Naylor had called in after work to travel over together that Chase realised the clash. He had tried to duck out of it, scavenging for some plausible excuse, but Naylor had pressed. “Okay. You win,” Chase had said. “But I have to go somewhere first. It won’t take long. I’ll meet you guys there.”

Appeased, Naylor had left him and caught the tramway to Five Wents.

Chase had loitered in his quarters, balancing the need to give Naylor a head start, with the knowledge that he couldn’t be late for his appointment. After several tense minutes, he set out on his way, tracing a circuitous route through Creaser, heading west into the Messam.

It was past six in the evening; offices had closed for the day. The Messam was a curfew zone; citizens did not loiter on their homeward journey and there were no bars, cafés or stalls to distract them en-route. The only signs of life were office cleaners and street sweepers: stooped shadows in the dust cloud, intent on completing their tasks before the fast-approaching sundown.

With a little time to spare, Chase stepped into a recessed doorway, disappearing under the cover of shadow. His mind flipped between the task at hand and his last conversation with Ursel, all her talk about changing perspective on the Scene. Yes, he thought, something happened at Chief’s show. Something had touched him. But it didn’t alter his opinion of the Scene. After what happened to Brann, he doubted anything could change that.

Then his mind flipped forward, to the now, to the coming moments. The moment of choice before the fact of consequence. It sometimes gave him a sense of power. But that wasn’t what he sought. It wasn’t his motivation. And now, the thought of such a feeling revolted him.

Instead, he kept his mind