Page 75 of Coldwire
I couldn’t begin to put together what memories have escaped me. What I did, who I knew, why I ended up in Kunlun. How I ended up in critical condition coming back down to my Pod. The fact that I was injured enough to damage my memories tells me everything, I suppose.
Whatever happened last time I was here, it didn’t end well.
20LIA
Kieren sends me a location for a building called the Pindrop.
It’s near Chung’s apartment, up at the northern tip of the tourist hotspot. I forward it to Rayna and tell Kieren as much, to which he replies with a frowning emoji he’s clearly doodled himself. Before I have the chance to respond, he’s sent a complex landscape of a stick figure drawing, depicting the two of us getting arrested for revealing confidential secrets. I roll my eyes, swiping out of my display. He’s so dramatic.
We’ve entered a quieter hour, a lull settling over Norca Street. The tourists have found their way to various stores for afternoon tea, exhausted and in need of rest. Gaps open among the wanderers who remain on the road. I zip and dart around their bulky backpacks, narrowly avoiding stepping into a ball of ice cream someone has dropped from their cone. The laptop bag I got from the store hangs over my shoulder, bouncing the device against the side of my leg.
The Pindrop is shaped as it’s named, and I’ve already located it from several blocks away. It doesn’t look like it should be capable of standing upright at all, never mind at its height. Its top floor is the widest part of the building, a half sphere that glows red from the line of windows ringing the circumference. With every descending floor, the building grows narrowerand narrower. The shorter establishments on either side hide the Pindrop’s base, lending the optical illusion that perhaps it really does filter down to something needle thin. Once I’m directly in front of it, though, it’s obvious that the building remains the same width from below the tenth floor. I breathe a sigh of relief once I’m inside the revolving doors. The whole thing probably isn’t going to tip over. Probably.
The front desk at the Pindrop has both a person and a bot stationed. I almost don’t know who to look at first when I approach.
“Where to?” the bot asks.
“Oh, um, top floor. The lounge.”
The doorman rises from his chair, his posture stick-straight. The longer part of his waistcoat flaps with the air-conditioning roaring through the vents. “With me, please, miss.”
He comes around the front desk, gesturing for me to follow. This is rather unnecessary, given all he does when he accompanies me to the elevator bay is press the big, red button that saysROOF LOUNGE, but I thank him anyway. He stays put. The elevator makes its way down.
“So,” I say, only to fill the silence, “slow day?”
“No. Lounge usually doesn’t fill up until after dark. You’ll get a nice seat now.” The elevator arrives. He inclines his head. “Have a pleasant visit.”
I step inside. I have to imagine the bot is in charge of the residents who live on the lower levels, but the human is the face for rooftop visitors. Maybe he wanted a tip. The doors close. It’s too late now.
The elevator starts to move, ascending the levels. Past floor eleven, I’m suddenly shot into daylight again, and I turn to face the city, blinking fast at the elevator’s glass walls. The pulley chugs along the exterior of the Pindrop, offering a view of Upsie’s entirety: the sharp rocks where the coast meets the water, the vast spread going into land, the edges of its western terrain where enormous industrial lights shoot sponsored banners into the atmosphere every night.
It looks bigger, somehow, when viewed on a map.
The elevator opens, having arrived at the roof. It brings me to a dark corridor, circular in shape to wrap around the elevator shaft. My feet sink into the plush red carpet; there are paintings of dogs wearing hats that hang against the gold wallpaper. I’m about to capture a screenshot to send it to Kieren—thus making fun of him in a roundabout way for bringing us here—when I turn the bend and spot someone familiar gazing up at one of the portraits, clearly admiring it.
I gasp. Rayna turns. I lift my arms. Rayna squeals, “Wheeeeee!” and runs toward me until we’ve joined in a hug.
“Thank you for coming,” I say when we draw apart. “I know it was quick, especially after you just got put into the server.”
“Oh, I almost didn’t come. I don’t know if I’m mentally equipped to interact with Hailey yet.” She smooths the wrinkles out of her silk shirt. “What happened to your forehead?”
“Don’t ask.” I spin Rayna around, walking her toward the door out to the lounge. “And you better keep it together. Don’teversay I don’t do anything for you.”
Kieren’s waving at me the moment we cross the threshold, impatient. Hailey’s already here, on the velvet couch seat beside him, picking at a bowl of sunflower seeds. I ignore the slight tremble that has started in Rayna’s shoulders and continue pushing her forward.
True to the doorman’s word, the lounge is largely empty on this side, staffed by bots at the bar and an open-concept kitchen window. The well-lit space is the same circular shape as the internal corridor, so I can’t see the other side unless I walk around. There are only two other groups within view: an elderly couple with martinis in hand and three women wearing shiny dresses, celebrating. A server bot rolls out from the kitchen with sparklers on a cake. The women cheer, crowding together for a tiny drone they’ve launched before them for pictures.
“What is this place?” I demand the moment we reach the corner table, tucked to the right of the bar. “We’re underage in Medaluo, too.”
“We’re not here to drink,” Kieren scoffs.
Hailey drapes herself on the couch. She still has half a sunflower seed shell in her mouth, and she aims it perfectly when she spits, letting it clink into the metal discard bowl. “Well,” she sighs, “there goes my reason for being here.”
I sit Rayna down by force, afraid that she’ll get entirely distracted and remain standing if I don’t.
“We’re here,” Kieren says with emphasis, “because this is the only building on Norca Road that has a view of Chung’s apartment. See for yourself.”
Oh.I hurry to the nearest floor-to-ceiling window, peering out. I spot the building in question immediately, easily recognizable after my extensive study of the photos in the briefing. I pull up the building’s floor plans and count the levels, confirming Kieren’s claim. This looks right into Chung’s kitchen window.
