littered the ground, and no graffiti marked the walls. Every window had been glossed over black, and some kind of smooth honeycomb scales covered just about every vertical surface. Above, through the framework of unlit signs and currents of swarming scaleflies, I could make out irregular clusters of shadows that hung from the building faces like big urban barnacles.
I couldn ’ t see any haan, but they were there. A haze of signal bled through the mite cluster constantly, pooling in the back of my mind. There were too many to pinpoint any one specific feeling or intention, just a constant tide of brain stew that was as palpable as the summer heat.
I pulled up the Shangzho map on my phone and pushed it around with my fingertip until I found the surrogate center. I plotted a route and then hopped onto the glassy surface of a moving walkway. Once I had my footing, it picked up speed, and the building faces on either side of the street began to streak past as it carried me into the darkness.
As a humid breeze coursed over me, I sat down on the conveyor and held Tānchi to my chest while empty outdoor café s, bars, and shop fronts flowed past us. I cracked my neck and let out a deep breath, then watched myself in a street-length window as we sailed past. The scratches that crisscrossed my skin looked black, and I could make out pale skin peeking through holes in my shirt. A mixture of half scabs and wet blood covered my face and neck like war paint. I followed it with my eyes, staring back at myself as the belt turned away, and caught a flicker of red light from somewhere up above, behind me.
I turned around and looked up to see a pair of flame red eyes staring down from the face of the building across the street. They were coming from one of the barnacle shadows that hung there. As I watched, several more pairs of eyes lit up around it, and in the resulting glow I saw that the shapes were actually haan. They were sitting on the layer of hexagonal scales as if they ’ d been glued there, staring down at me.
Graviton plating. They sat in groups, some twenty stories above. More and more of the eyes were lighting up, a mixture of reds, oranges, and yellows. There were hundreds of them up there, all watching me.
The first call came in on my 3i then, and the display popped up of its own accord as one of them pried open a channel. Before I knew it, dozens of them had begun to hammer the connection, and the junk call buffer overflowed. I cricked my neck to stow the 3i window, but it just popped up again.
“ Enough, guys, ” I said, but my voice sounded a little unsure. Several shadows moved along the walls of the buildings to either side, and I heard footsteps from the darkness of the side streets there. A few seconds later an empathic spike shot through the mite cluster, and I felt a pang of hunger. The intensity of it made my stomach clench, and it grew as the eyes followed me down the walkway. All the while, a mass of invisible feelers probed the 3i for a crack they could sneak into.
“ Enough! ” I shouted.
The hunger signals grew stronger as my phone buzzed in my pocket. One of them had given up on the 3i and found the cell connection. I dug it out and my hands shook as I switched it off. I told myself I would be okay, but as a wave of firelit eyes surged in my direction, I felt fear prick in my chest.
What happens then?
They eat you …
I stood up and began to take long strides down the walkway in spite of the pain in my leg. One at a time the haan weren ’ t exactly intimidating, but when the streets and building faces all began to crawl with movement, my fear edged toward panic. The kid picked up on it and squirmed in my arms.
Wait.
The word appeared in the 3i window in front of me as one of them somehow managed to sneak its way in. More of them had started to worm their way through, and unlike the kid ’ s curious probes, these were pushy and
I couldn ’ t see any haan, but they were there. A haze of signal bled through the mite cluster constantly, pooling in the back of my mind. There were too many to pinpoint any one specific feeling or intention, just a constant tide of brain stew that was as palpable as the summer heat.
I pulled up the Shangzho map on my phone and pushed it around with my fingertip until I found the surrogate center. I plotted a route and then hopped onto the glassy surface of a moving walkway. Once I had my footing, it picked up speed, and the building faces on either side of the street began to streak past as it carried me into the darkness.
As a humid breeze coursed over me, I sat down on the conveyor and held Tānchi to my chest while empty outdoor café s, bars, and shop fronts flowed past us. I cracked my neck and let out a deep breath, then watched myself in a street-length window as we sailed past. The scratches that crisscrossed my skin looked black, and I could make out pale skin peeking through holes in my shirt. A mixture of half scabs and wet blood covered my face and neck like war paint. I followed it with my eyes, staring back at myself as the belt turned away, and caught a flicker of red light from somewhere up above, behind me.
I turned around and looked up to see a pair of flame red eyes staring down from the face of the building across the street. They were coming from one of the barnacle shadows that hung there. As I watched, several more pairs of eyes lit up around it, and in the resulting glow I saw that the shapes were actually haan. They were sitting on the layer of hexagonal scales as if they ’ d been glued there, staring down at me.
Graviton plating. They sat in groups, some twenty stories above. More and more of the eyes were lighting up, a mixture of reds, oranges, and yellows. There were hundreds of them up there, all watching me.
The first call came in on my 3i then, and the display popped up of its own accord as one of them pried open a channel. Before I knew it, dozens of them had begun to hammer the connection, and the junk call buffer overflowed. I cricked my neck to stow the 3i window, but it just popped up again.
“ Enough, guys, ” I said, but my voice sounded a little unsure. Several shadows moved along the walls of the buildings to either side, and I heard footsteps from the darkness of the side streets there. A few seconds later an empathic spike shot through the mite cluster, and I felt a pang of hunger. The intensity of it made my stomach clench, and it grew as the eyes followed me down the walkway. All the while, a mass of invisible feelers probed the 3i for a crack they could sneak into.
“ Enough! ” I shouted.
The hunger signals grew stronger as my phone buzzed in my pocket. One of them had given up on the 3i and found the cell connection. I dug it out and my hands shook as I switched it off. I told myself I would be okay, but as a wave of firelit eyes surged in my direction, I felt fear prick in my chest.
What happens then?
They eat you …
I stood up and began to take long strides down the walkway in spite of the pain in my leg. One at a time the haan weren ’ t exactly intimidating, but when the streets and building faces all began to crawl with movement, my fear edged toward panic. The kid picked up on it and squirmed in my arms.
Wait.
The word appeared in the 3i window in front of me as one of them somehow managed to sneak its way in. More of them had started to worm their way through, and unlike the kid ’ s curious probes, these were pushy and
Similar Books
