“Been wanting to do that since you first joined up,” she admitted.

  “For true?” Kip’s voice cracked.

  “True-true.” Her fingers traced the blue patches on his arm. “You’re different, String. Not just another Patchie trying to fit in. You’ve got spark, real current.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.

  “Sometimes I want to leave this city. Find somewhere Blends and Patchies can live without Tet slag. Where we could build a real vibe worth living.”

  “Together?” The word escaped before Kip could stop it.

  Em looked up at him, something unreadable flickering in her eyes before her expression softened.

  “Why not? We flow well together. Maybe that’s our current, finding a way forward for our people.”

  The idea bloomed in Kip’s mind: A future with Em, away from the Servo District, away from the limitations his parents accepted. A place where he wasn’t just a Patchie, where his skills mattered. Where they could have kids together and he’d be the best dad, always there.

  Kip wanted to say the three most important words. His heart shouted them, but his lips were too nervous. Instead, Kip made the move this time, burying his lips in hers. When they parted lips, he substituted three words for two.

  “I’m in,” he said firmly.

  “Whatever TimBob needs, you’ll flow true?”

  “I’ll flow true.”

  Em’s smile widened as she kissed him again.

  “I always knew you would.”

  ***

  Kip strode through the lower walkways of the Servo District, his steps lighter than they’d been in months. The recycled air tasted sweeter. The constant hum of the city sounded like a symphony. Even the shadowy blue lights that cast everything in perpetual twilight shone brighter.

  She loves me, too.

  He touched his lips, still feeling the ghost of Em’s kiss. The memory sent electricity coursing through his veins. All burdens disappeared.

  The Market Strip bustled with late-evening activity: Vendors closing up shops, workers returned from shifts, children darted between adults. Kip navigated through them with newfound confidence, nodding to a Blend mechanic who recognized him. The man’s eyebrows raised at Kip’s swagger, but he nodded back.

  Kip paused at the edge of the main crossway, looking out over the vast vertical expanse of the Servo District. The maze of walkways, suspended platforms, and stacked housing units that had always felt like a cage now looked different, like a complex system he mastered. The paths between buildings weren’t barriers but links. The shadows weren’t threats but opportunities.

  This is my world. Not Dad’s, not the Tets’. Mine.

  He stood taller, letting people flow around him rather than shrinking to avoid contact.

  Three levels down, he spotted an EQ patrol, the same kind TimBob planned to disrupt. The officers moved with predatory purpose, scanning IDs and harassing young Blends. Kip’s jaw steeled.

  Soon. We’ll show them soon.

  The familiar outline of Block D-17 appeared ahead, its patchwork of additions and modifications stretching upward. Kip’s confidence faltered as he approached the entrance. His parents would be waiting. Questions would be asked. Lies would need to be told.

  The thought of his next strategy knotted his stomach. Not because of guilt – lying was a necessary function of survival – but because deception now felt beneath him. Em saw him as someone important, someone with purpose. The boy who snuck around and made excuses wasn’t the Kip she loved.

  But they won’t understand. They can’t know. Not yet.

  The apartment door slid open with a soft hiss. His mother sat at the kitchen table, her tools spread out before her as she tinkered with some small device. His father stood at the food churn. Both turned as he entered.

  “You’re overdue,” his mother said, her voice gentler than he expected.

  Kip froze in the doorway, prepared for a confrontation. The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic clicking of his mother’s tools.

  “Dad told me about your arrangement,” Meera said, setting down a calibrator. “No school. Home learning instead.”

  Kip’s eyes darted to his father, who gave a slight nod. His shoulders tensed, ready for the explosion that always came when his mother discovered his secrets.

  “I don’t like it,” she continued, her eyes fixed on him. “The Education Bank isn’t perfect, but it provides structure. Consistency.”

  “I wasn’t learning anything useful there,” Kip countered, the words rushing to his defense. “Just Tet propaganda about how lucky we are to exist.”

  Arliss stepped forward.

  “We’ve agreed you’ll study with me three urns each morning. Engineering. History. Calculations.”

  “And in exchange, you get to roam free while we’re both working,” Meera said, her voice betraying her skepticism. “That’s the part that concerns me.”

  Kip shifted his weight.

  “I’m not a little kid anymore. I know the Mega.”

  Meera’s expression softened.

  “That’s exactly what worries me. You’re growing up in a world that’s becoming more dangerous for people like us every day. The raids. The surveillance. Enforcers looking for any excuse.”

  “I see it clear, Mom. I’m too smart for those slag-heaps.”

  The lack of anger in her voice caught Kip off guard. He’d prepared for a fight, not ... whatever this was.

  “I’ll try this arrangement,” she said, “on three conditions.”

  Kip blinked, tension draining from his shoulders.

  “What conditions?”

  “You check in every two urns. You stay far from the Northern Drop. And you’re home no later than our last shift ends. Always.”

  The last word wasn’t going to fly, but what choice did he have? For now, move the deal forward. Say the right words.

  “That’s ... fair,” Kip answered, his posture relaxing.

  “We’re trusting you, Kip,” Arliss added. “Don’t make us regret it.”

  The weight of their trust mingled with thoughts of Em and the real possibility that the Pikers’ next operation might not fit with his parents’ schedules. Nonetheless, he nodded.

  “I won’t. Promise.” The lie tasted bitter. “Good a big dinner cooking in the churn, Dad? I’m hungry.”

  His parents’ trust should have felt like victory. Instead, it dangled over him like a storm cloud. But even as he put forward his best face and expressed excitement about his first morning lessons with Arliss, Kip saw only Em. Her yellow eyes, the moist pressure of her lips, and her belief in him.

  They want me to be safe. Em wants me to be brave.

  Later, lying in his bed unable to sleep, Kip put his choices into proper perspective. His resolve hardened.

  This is bigger than school. Bigger than rules. This is about our people, for true.

  The path forward was clear now, illuminated by Em’s love and the promise of purpose. The Pikers weren’t just a gang of kids. They were the future. The start of the revolution.

  “I won’t steal anymore if I can help it,” Kip whispered. “But I’m going to make those fringing slags hurt.”

  His parents’ world of compromise and submission held nothing for him now. Kip smiled in the darkness, ready to fight from the shadows.

  9

  ENNIS

  COUNCILOR ENNIS VEGA strode through the grand archway of the Central Temple in Trequin, his measured footsteps echoing across polished stone floors. The vaulted ceiling soared above, its surface etched with intricate Spiral Wind patterns that seemed to undulate in the ambient light. Around him, guests moved with reverent purpose, hushed voices never disturbing the temple's sacred atmosphere.

  The temple interior presented a masterpiece of spiritual architecture. Continuous waves of muted greys and whites dominated the space, reflecting the colors of Teton’s atmosphere. Massive pillars rose toward the ceiling, each one carved with the Spiral Wind symbol, creating a lofty sense of elevation. These spirals echoed the natural currents of air, guiding the spirit upward toward enlightenment.

  Soft, manufactured light filtered through strategically placed windows, mimicking the delicate play of sunlight on drifting clouds. The stone floors remained cool beneath the feet of the faithful, adding to the temple’s calming ambience. At the center stood the Wind Chamber, where High Wind Reader Helix Kaal’s family would soon celebrate its seasonal blessing.

  Ennis swept his gaze across the small crowd of invitees, noting faces of importance with clinical analysis. He mistakenly believed Kaal’s invitation was exclusive to the Vegas. Indeed, three Unified Council members arrived solo, along with two prominent business leaders from Doquin.

  Interesting choices. Perhaps the right witnesses for what is about to unfold.

  Had Kaal thought that far ahead?

  “Councilor Vega, the winds favor you.”

  Wind Reader Galen Keet approached.

  Oh, this gets even better.

  “And you, Wind Reader.”

  “What a joy to see you and your family included in today’s blessing.”

  Galen dressed in his ceremonial blue-gray robes that marked his regional status. The reactive fabric subtly shifted colors with the temperature, creating an impression of living cloth. The elaborate embroidery along the sleeves displayed his lineage and rank, and the Wind Medallion hanging from his neck caught the light as he moved.

  “Did his Highest commission you for the reading?” Ennis asked, knowing the answer.

  “I have been so honored.”

  “The honor is ours. The Breath teaches us that ‘attendance to spiritual matters precedes excellence in worldly affairs.’ The Third Doctrine makes this abundantly clear.”

  “Indeed,” Galen nodded, his eyes flickering to Ennis’s family standing in their dutiful place behind the head of household. “I see you’ve brought your wife and children. How commendable.”

  Klora Ennis stood with perfect posture in a simple but elegant grey dress, her hands clasped before her. Their sons, Roe and Ren, flanked her sides, both dressed in formal attire appropriate for temple worship – beige suits with brown gloves.

  “My wife understands the importance of family presence at such gatherings,” Ennis said. “As the Sixteenth Wind Reading reminds us, ‘The family that breathes as one strengthens the collective spirit.’”

  Klora lowered her eyes.

  “I am honored to support my husband’s devotion to the Breath.”

  Her voice was soft, and her words concise – as Ennis demanded. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. At least in this arena, everything functioned according to natural order.

  “And your sons grow so quickly,” Galen observed. “Especially young Roe. He has your bearing, Councilor.”

  Fourteen-year-old Roe straightened at the recognition, his chin lifting.

  “Thank you, Wind Reader. I study my father’s example closely.”

  Ennis placed a hand on his elder son’s shoulder, squeezing with faint pressure. The boy spoke without permission, though his words were appropriate enough. Still, discipline required consistency.

  “And how is your daughter, Wind Reader?” Ennis asked, steering the conversation toward more fertile territory. “I understand she continues her ... unconventional path.”

  Galen’s expression narrowed, having been put on the spot.

  “She follows her own currents, as you know. The Breath teaches that each must find their own path to understanding.”

  Nice evasion, Galen. But not good enough.

  “Indeed. Though some paths lead further from enlightenment than others. The doctrine of ‘Purity Preserved’ speaks quite clearly on the matter of ... mixed associations.”

  Before Galen could respond, a soft chime resonated through the temple, signaling the approach of the ceremony. Ennis noted with satisfaction how Galen’s shoulders tensed at his veiled reference to Meera’s Blend husband.

  “We’re being called to the Wind Chamber,” Galen said. “If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for the reading.”

  As Galen departed, Ennis turned to his family.

  “Klora, take Ren to the outer circle. Roe will join me in the inner circle today.”

  She bowed her head.

  “As you wish, husband.”

  Ten-year-old Ren looked up with a flicker of disappointment but said nothing. Unlike his brother, he lacked the proper assertiveness for a future leader. Perhaps there was time to correct the deficiency.

  The boy takes after his mother too much, Ennis thought. Soft. Compliant. Useful traits in a woman, but dangerous weaknesses in a man who must one day stand against the tide of societal decay. A warrior for the Resonance, he is not.

  Ennis briefly considered a change in the arrangement. Might bringing Ren into the center heighten the boy’s confidence?

  Yes, possibly. But he’ll distract Roe’s mission. I will not have that today.

  The family separated as instructed, with Klora and Ren moving toward the outer circle of cushions arranged on the stone floor. Ennis guided Roe toward the privileged inner circle, where the most devout and influential guests would join Kaal’s extended family.

  As they took their places, Ennis spotted High Wind Reader Kaal enter the chamber. Tall and austere, Kaal wore deep purple robes that marked his superior status. The fabric seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, creating an impression of profound depth. His Wind Medallion was larger than Galen’s, inlaid with precious stones that represented each of the Nine Cities of the Southern Platte.

  Kaal led his wife, six daughters, and five sons-in-law toward the inner circle. Ennis set his eye on the youngest, who marched solo at the end: 15-year-old Oura. He counted the pillows and calculated how Roe might sit next to Kaal’s only unmarried child.

  Ennis caught Kaal’s eye and offered a respectful nod. The High Wind Reader acknowledged him with the barest inclination of his head, a promising sign. Their communiques over the past months, most through interlocutors such as Legate Sorrell, had been productive, but the few public interactions required discretion.

  The chamber now filled, the faithful arranged themselves in concentric circles. Cushions made from natural fibers provided minimal comfort: A deliberate choice, as the Breath taught that physical discomfort sharpened spiritual awareness. However, after waiting for the eleven members of the host family to sit, Ennis took advantage of the moment and directed Roe to a prime seat next to a girl who, Ennis concluded, was the least pleasing to the eye among her clan.

  No matter. Roe would never want competition from a spouse.

  At the center of the chamber, around which everyone sat, stood the smooth, grey stone dais where Wind Readers conducted the blessing. The air in this chamber felt different: Cleaner, almost purified, with a faint hum resonating from the walls.

  Galen approached the dais, accompanied by two Legates in pale gray robes and push collars. He carried a staff topped with his personal Wind Medallion, its surface etched with the Spiral Wind symbol. The Legates remained at the base as Galen climbed the dais and placed the staff into its rest then raised his hands.

  “Brothers and sisters,” Galen began, his voice resonating through the chamber. “We gather today to listen to the voice of Teton, to feel its currents flow through us, to understand its wisdom and warnings. Through this understanding, we cast blessings of the season upon the family of High Wind Reader Helix Kaal.”

  Ennis settled into the prescribed meditation posture, his face a mask of devotion while his mind assessed possibilities. Galen’s position weakened after his daughter’s disgraceful marriage, but the true compromise began after he consented to his son-in-law’s imprisonment. The timing was perfect for what Ennis had arranged. He wondered if Kaal chose Galen for the same reason. Was Galen’s presence here a gift?

  The Wind Reader started a slow, rhythmic exercise, designed to harmonize the group’s breathing patterns. The lighting dimmed, highlighting the intricate spirals adorning the pillars.

  “Inhale as one,” Galen intoned. “Feel the Sacred Cycle move through your body. The First Breath of Innocence, the Second Breath of Contribution, the Final Breath of Wisdom … all part of the eternal pattern.”

  The worshippers followed his lead, their collective breaths creating a subtle current in the chamber. Ennis performed the exercise while his attention remained fixed on the inescapable political undercurrents.

  “Repeat after me. I open myself to the voice of Teton,” Galen declared. “I listen to its winds, I feel its currents, I hear its warnings and promises.”

  The Wind Reader’s face reflected intense concentration as he “listened” to the wind’s voice and the echo of the audience. The chamber fell silent, everyone of faith watching with rapt attention while Galen closed his eyes and meditated.

  After a moment of silent communion with the atmospheric patterns, Galen focused on the faithful, but his expression had grown troubled, as Ennis expected. He’d seen Galen’s performance before. The man always vacillated, with promises featuring the light and the dark.

  “The winds speak with both concern and hope today,” Galen announced, his voice resonating through the chamber. “I sense a deep disharmony within the atmospheric patterns surrounding us. The planet warns of an increasing imbalance, one that threatens the very essence of our existence. Yet, the reading also suggests a remedy, a path forward. We must earnestly seek greater harmony with the natural world, for it is our duty as stewards of this land. We must examine where we have strayed from the Sacred Cycle and work to return to a state of balance, for only then can we ensure the survival of our community and the blessings of our ancestors.

  “It goes on to say that the faithful will be in expert hands through these upcoming trials thanks to the everlasting devotion of the Kaal family.”

  At this point, High Wind Reader Kaal rose from his position in the inner circle. This was unexpected; High Readers rarely intervened in their blessings.