"We should get upstairs," Wei said, walking toward the apartment door. "They're probably waiting for us." She shut the door carefully, and we climbed the stairs.
I had the strangest sensation as my hand glided up the brass banister. "Do you ever feel like you are somehow touching all those people from the past who used to live here?"
"Uh-huh. It's like this continual connection with history. Mom says that people carry the wisdom of the ages inside them. But mostly no one wants to look that closely at themselves. Mom practices ancient healing methods and uses herbs and charms and all kinds of things that the world has forgotten. She's got all kinds of strange stuff up on the third floor. She'd show you sometime, if you wanted to see."
We stopped in front of a pair of dark wooden doors that had huge ornate brass doorknobs. A U-shaped object hung in the middle of one.
"What's that?" I pointed to it.
"A door knocker." She demonstrated its purpose by lifting and then dropping it. There was a sharp retort that echoed down the hallway. "Before viewers and buzzers, there were these. I live in an antique. See that?" She pointed to a little brass circle with a thick glass lens in the middle, right above the knocker. "It's a peephole, a primitive viewer. You look through it and can see whoever's on the other side."
I leaned in close to try it out. Just then the door opened, jerking me off balance, and I fell inside. A man caught me on the other side.
"This must be Nina." He didn't let go until he was sure I had my feet under me.
"Hi, Dad. Yep, she'd never seen a peephole before."
"Didn't bother to tell her they work much better from the other side, did you?"
She grinned at me. "Sorry."
"No biggie." I blushed.
Wei's father surveyed my face. "You look like your father ... but those dimples. They're your mother's. She used to blush all the time, too." He winked at me.
That was news to me. Ginnie'd always been so self-assured, nothing ever seemed to rattle her. Maybe there was hope for me yet.
"Jade," he called out, "Nina's here."
Wei's mother was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Her straight dark hair swung across her cheeks as she put her arms around me and hugged me tight the way mothers do. It felt so good, my heart ached. I could almost imagine she was Ginnie.
After a moment, she held me at arm's length and, like her husband, studied my face. "You are your father's daughter." She ran a perfectly manicured finger by the corners of my mouth. "And I see Ginnie here." Her eyes clouded. "Your mother was the best friend I ever had."
"Really?" I choked back tears. "I didn't know that. She never-" I stopped, thinking it would be rude to say Ginnie'd never mentioned her.
"Of course you wouldn't have known. We hadn't seen each other since ... well, the last time we were together, you were this big." She held her hands about a foot or so apart.
"I was a baby?"
"Yes. It was a wonderful time and also very sad, after your father ..." She paused, and looked at Wei's dad, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "But tonight we're going to talk about good times. Shall we have dinner now? You girls must be starving."
I was so afraid of making some kind of stupid low-tier mistake during dinner that I kept quiet and mostly picked at my food. Later, in the living room, I perched on the edge of the sofa, determined not to miss a single word about my father and Ginnie.
"We grew up together, about five blocks from here," Mr. Jenkins said.
"Don't forget Sal's dad," Wei said.
"Yes, Brock lived on that block, too. In fifth grade we called ourselves the Outlanders, after the Resistance in Mars Rising. Do you know that story?"
"Yes," I said. "The B.O.S.S. agents confiscated our copy after Ginnie's death."
"What it's all come to." Mr. Jenkins sighed and shook his head. "I remember Brock's mother sewed us Outlander costumes to wear to school on Imagination Day."
"I have a picture of my dad in a cape with a big E on his chest. What was he like?" I wanted details. I knew how he looked; I wanted to know what kind of person my father was.
Mr. Jenkins laughed. "We were crazy kids, but ..." His eyes got serious. "That was only the beginning."
"All the girls in school were crazy about Alan," Mrs. Jenkins said. "He was so handsome. Friends with everyone, but he only loved Ginnie."
I felt a stabbing sadness in my heart. My mother had a man who loved her like that and then ... then she chose to be with Ed. If my father was in fact still alive, why hadn't she stayed with him? More than ever, I had to know what happened, why he'd left.
"Being a charmer was not his most important quality." Mr. Jenkins laughed. "He was clever, intelligent, and definitely had a way with words. As captain of the debate team, he could persuade nearly anyone to see his side of an argument. In tenth grade the Media recruited him to be prime anchor for their Chicago network. That was a plum tier-ten job. They awarded him a full-ride scholarship to college and drew up the contracts to be ready when he graduated."
"Was he nice?" I needed him to be a good person. Ginnie deserved to have been loved by someone who treated her good.
"To a fault," Mrs. Jenkins said. "That's what got him in trouble. He helped anyone less fortunate than himself. He couldn't pass a homeless person without stopping to ask if they needed any credits or food." She turned to her husband. "Remember when he tried to start that soup kitchen?"
"I sure do," Mr. Jenkins said. "Media found out about that side of him and, even though legally they had to make good on the scholarship, there was no job waiting for him after college."
They were talking so freely that I began to worry. "Is it safe? You know ..."
"Surveillance? Don't worry," Mrs. Jenkins said. "It's perfectly safe here."
That's what Wei had said before, in the hallway. I wondered if they had a scrambler. Before I could ask, Mr. Jenkins started talking again.
"Alan won the Chicago regional debate of 2132," he said. "His name's engraved on a plaque in the Education Administration building on State and Adams in the Hall of Winners. It's in a display case halfway down the main hallway on the left." He winked at me, as if he knew I'd go looking for it. "Media tried to have it removed in 2135, but their plan backfired. The flurry of publicity around their efforts simply put him and his ideals more in the public eye."
"That was the debate about media versus free will, wasn't it?" There was that picture in Gran's album of my dad and his medal.
"Yes. He wasn't afraid to take on Media versus the rights of citizens; he strongly believed in government by the people, not by the Media."
"But you work for Media, don't you?" I didn't understand how a person could be associated with someone, or in this case, a business that they didn't trust or believe in.
"Yes, I do." Pausing, Mr. Jenkins unhurriedly traced the patterned fabric of his armchair. Finally, he raised his eyes and looked straight into mine. "Over three thousand years ago a famous Asian general, Sun-tzu, said, 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' Those are good words to live by."
He sounded like Ginnie. The only real enemy I had was Ed. The thought of being close to him sickened me.
"Dad," Wei said, "can you give Nina a chip of her father's debate? He explains it so well."
"You know I can't," Mr. Jenkins said. "Alan's speeches and debates are so radical they're considered contraband. If you're found with them, you can be arrested. Reassimilation is the usual course of remediation."
"Alan was on the Governing Council's watch list," Mrs. Jenkins explained. "His every move was scrutinized from the time he started openly debating against Media-and winning. If he'd never won, he'd be alive. If he hadn't died, he would've been reassimilated."
Since the start of our conversation, something had been nagging at the fringes of my brain.
"Wait-there was a vert disruption downtown the other day by a guy Derek said was the Eliminator. Is that my dad? Ginnie told me she thought he was alive and in Chicago." My pulse was racing so fast I felt light-headed. "She was right, wasn't she? That had to have been him. You said you guys called yourselves the Outlanders. One of them was the Eliminator. Dad's costume had a big E on it. It has to be him." I felt like I'd just won the Interstellar Lottery.
All three of them stared at me-then looked at each other.
No one said a word. I took a deep breath and explained more. "Before Ginnie died, she told me my father was still alive. The other night Sal asked me if I'd ever thought he might not be dead and said that my father was a NonCon leader. Gran says Alan wasn't a radical, that he changed things by talking. Whatever the truth is-I need to know. Ginnie left me something to give to him. She said it had all the answers. Answers to what, I don't know. But if you know where he is, please tell me."
"I was there the night your father drowned," Mr. Jenkins said. "Alan and I were meeting at one of the oases. I arrived first and saw your father crossing the bridge. The streets were icy; a trannie swerved and knocked him off the bridge into the river. I think it was deliberate. The trannie disappeared down the street and your father disappeared into the water. I told the police what I had seen. Alan's body was never recovered."
"Ginnie wouldn't lie. And what about Sal?" I searched their faces for some glimmer of hope, but there was none.
"I'm so sorry, Nina." Mrs. Jenkins hugged me. This time it didn't make me feel anything at all.
"If we had more time tonight I would let you hear one of your father's speeches. But it's late. Next time you're over, if I'm not here, Wei knows where they are. You'll be sixteen soon and you need to know the things your father believed," Mrs. Jenkins said. "These are the things he would die for."
"Thank you."
"Have you filled out your FeLS application yet," Mrs. Jenkins asked.
"Ginnie bought my contract," I said. "It was one of the last things she did."
"I am so glad. Keep that contract in a safe place. We don't believe that FeLS is exactly what the GC would like us to believe it is. I know that neither your mother nor your father would want you to end up in FeLS training."
"Gran's got it," I said. "I'm sure it's fine."
"Make sure it is secure," Mr. Jenkins said. "I'm sure the government would love to have Alan Oberon's daughter in their FeLS program. As if that might give it some respectability in the eyes of those who don't trust the government."
"My friend Sandy wants more than anything to be a FeLS. She thinks it's the only way she can get out of the low tiers. She even asked me to talk to Ed for her."
"Who's Ed?" Mr. Jenkins asked.
"He was Ginnie's boyfriend. She started seeing him when I was four or five. He got her pregnant with Dee and we moved out of Gran and Pops's. When Ed was transferred to Cementville, we went, too." I wasn't quite sure how much to say, but Wei's parents had been so kind, I kept on. "Ginnie kept us away from him as much as possible. He was abusive and mean. I don't know how she stood being around him."
"He's a Chooser, too," Wei said.
"He was at my old school the other day and was asking Sandy if Gran and Pops were healthy enough to take care of Dee. Then last night he called me and said he wanted to see Dee."
"That seems normal," Mr. Jenkins said. "He is her father."
"I know, but ..." I had to trust them; there was nowhere else to turn. "Ginnie told me to keep him away from Dee, no matter what. After school today I saw him hanging around Dee's school. I'm afraid he might want to take her as a Cinderella girl."
"Sometimes biological fathers do that," Mrs. Jenkins said. "If he abducted your sister, it would be extremely difficult for you to get her back. He could even have her reassimilated into believing she wants to be with him."
"I won't let her out of my sight. But what can I do about school? Will she be safe there?"
"He'd have to have proof of paternity to get her, which he must not have or he'd have taken her already," Mr. Jenkins said. "What school does she attend?"
"Dickens." My stomach was churning. Not only were my hopes of finding my father in ruins, but now it was confirmed: Dee was in real danger from Ed.
"I have friends who work there," Mrs. Jenkins said. "Do you have a picture of Dee?"
I beamed a digi of Dee's school picture from my PAV to hers. "That's last year's," I said. "Her hair's longer now. Otherwise, she looks the same."
"You won't need to worry about her at school," she said. "I promise."
"What are you going to do?" It felt as if they had this whole network of people I couldn't see, but who were there to do things that needed to be done. It was surreal, but comforting, too, in a bizarre way. And, somehow, being with these people made me feel closer to Ginnie. I had a feeling she would've been happy I'd found them.
"My friends will keep an eye on Dee," Mrs. Jenkins said. "They are very trustworthy and will be sure that no one gets close to her. Would she be afraid of her father if he tried to take her?"
I shook my head. "She likes him. He's always been nice to her. She never saw him hurt Ginnie. He never hit Mom when she was around."
A large clock in the corner struck the half hour. "You can count on us for help, but it's late now. Don't worry about Dee. Wei, you walk Nina to the bus stop."
"Sure. Let's go."
"Thank you for dinner, and for telling me about my dad." The numbness that had threatened to take over my heart, after their silent confirmation that Alan was dead, was being challenged by the insistent sound of Ginnie's words in my head. He was alive. They had to be mistaken.
Mrs. Jenkins bundled me up in my coat-just like Ginnie would've done. "Talk your friend out of FeLS. It is a dangerous business, not at all what it seems. You must convince her that even a low-tier existence is better than what lies beyond the FeLS training station."
"I'll try." I couldn't imagine anything I might say that would sway Sandy's determination to get into FeLS.
When we got outside, it was cold. And Mrs. Jenkins's warning about FeLS made it seem even colder. I tried to push those thoughts aside. I'd had enough for one night. I wanted normal-even if just for a few minutes.
"How come your parents don't mind you walking around alone after dark?" I asked Wei.
"Martial arts. I can show you some moves sometime, if you want."
"That would be ultra. Then if Ed shows up to try and take Dee ..." I made some flailing motions with my arms. Wei and I both laughed, and for a moment I felt like a normal girl with a friend, just being silly. But that feeling didn't last. I hesitated a moment before asking, "Did you see Sal today?"
She shook her head. "He wasn't at school. Why?"
"No reason. I didn't see him either and I wondered-that's all."
"Sal and I have known each other since we were babies. Since his parents died he hasn't let himself get close to anyone. He even tried backing off being close to me. I told him, 'No way, Salzo, we're tight till the end.' I know he's afraid of being hurt if something happens to anyone else he cares about. I also know he really likes you."
That didn't help my mood. We stood under the yellow glow of the streetlights on Clark, the cold November winds whipped around my legs, cutting through my jeans, chilling me to the core.
As I sat on the number 33, heading home, my thoughts turned to Sal, like I knew they would. After what Wei'd said, I could almost feel myself softening toward him. I wanted to believe her, that he liked me, really liked me. And I could, almost. At least until I remembered that the day we met, he'd recognized my name. He'd known I was Alan Oberon's daughter from the start.
I pushed Sal thoughts aside, only to be assailed by other things I'd heard at the Jenkinses'. They wanted me to believe that Alan was dead, but Ginnie'd said different. It hadn't been the drugs talking or the Infinity machine or her injuries. She knew that my father was alive and she expected me to find him.
She also had to have known that Alan was a NonCon. And not just any NonCon, but the leader. Why didn't she ever tell me? She could have trusted me. I'm sure she had her reasons, but I was her daughter. Who else could she have trusted? A bit of anger at her leaked out and I smacked the back of the seat in front of me in frustration. The guy sitting there whirled around.
"What's your problem?" he snapped.
"Nothing. Sorry." I cut my eyes to the left.
He turned back, muttering something about teenagers.
I sat on my hands. FeLS. How was I ever going to talk Sandy out of her life's dream? As impossible as that seemed, I figured I had a better chance of doing it than finding my father. But I had to try to do both-somehow.
XXII.
I got up late, with plans to go back to Robin's Roost and poke around there. I was so late, there was no time to talk with Gran about my FeLS contract before breakfast. I had to keep moving if I was going to make sure Ed didn't get near Dee between home and Dickens.