Page 34 of Scion

I finish dressing while keeping one eye on a very-close-to-vomiting-looking de Alwes, insert my new lenses, and nod to Manuel. “Guess that’s it then.”

“If you’re ever in the area and have another 30K…”

“You’ll be the first person I think of.”

We tap forearms, and then Jasa and I are back out onto the streets.

It’s almost dawn.

COMPARED TO EVERYTHING ELSE OVER the past few days, the Autobooth goes quite smoothly.

No flashing red lights, no lockdowns as the nanobots circulating our systems feed the DNA scrapers with someone else’s biomaterial. Our lenses pass the retinal scanner, there’s some imaging, and then our faces are matched up with our new identities on screen. A half hour after leaving Manuel’s, we’re officially different people.

Jasa scratches at her skin as we walk away from the dome-like DeGov station. “How long until the wash wears off?”

“Few more hours.”

“And then that’s it? Everything goes back to normal?”

“Peeing won’t be fun for the rest of the day. Otherwise, sure.”

She looks sideways at me. “Are you still using your revs to dampen the pain?”

“No.” Not since we left Manuel’s, once I was sure it wouldn’t slow me down.

“Why not?”

“Pain’s important.”

She looks confused. “Are you being deep, right now?”

“Sure. But also, it helps you know if you’ve been stabbed or shot.”

“Oh.” I don’t respond and she shakes her head. “Fine. Where to now?”

“I have an old safe house in U-65. Not too far from here. Nice place, quiet and stocked.”

“And then?”

I shrug. “We ride out the next week and a half. I get the file. We part as wonderful acquaintances.”

“You’re just going to leave me.” Flat and a little disbelieving.

“Once I get my answers? Absolutely.” I shrug again. “You uprooted my life, put me in the crosshairs—and I don’t even have a guarantee of getting anything out of it. I don’t owe you anything. You can buy the safe house from me, if you like. It’s not like I’ll be telling the Keres.”

There’s silence after that. The wind’s icy and gusting hard; it’s probably been storming out past the walls, but the rain never reaches this far beneath the Plate. Bots whir everywhere as we walk, sweeping and cleaning and performing general maintenance as the Core’s buildings turn to dawn lighting. I keep myself hooded, despite my new identity, and am glad to see de Alwes copies me. Probably unnecessary, but the Keres have a stupidly long reach.

“How old is old?” Jasa asks suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Your safe house. When did you buy it?”

“I don’t know. Five years ago, maybe? Wasn’t long after I started.”

“While you were still working Oceanus.”

“Yeah.”