SHATTERED ADS: $41.98
I didn’t scream. The only sound I made came when I found my breath. My lungs suddenly filled with air, my body gasping for it, desperate, unable to function.
Beneath us came the thuds of cars colliding and the screeching of bending metal. Those noises could have killed me.
Saretha screamed. She screamed, and screamed again. She screamed enough for both of us.
The world dissolved from me into an airless state of nonexistence. The ceaseless chatter of the Ads mingled with my sister’s agonized cries in a hollow tube. Then everything went black.
* * *
When I opened my eyes, my head felt like it was going to explode. The brothers were standing just a few feet away, shaking their heads.
“We tried to stop him,” the maroon brother said.
“I grabbed right on to him,” the indigo brother said.
“It was too late.” The gold brother pretended to be sad.
My body was on the ground, half bent against the wall. I tried to raise myself up, averting my gaze from the edge. I couldn’t look. If I never looked, I could hope, somehow, that Sam was not dead.
The cleanup crews had arrived: cranes, trucks and asphalt printers clanged and beeped below me. The police were there, bored and annoyed, talking to the brothers. Why weren’t they doing anything? I didn’t understand. They let me hyperventilate, slumped against the wall beside Saretha. The brothers, flush with money and words, spun their tale.
“I was trying to convince that Silent Girl to talk. I offered her money.” The gold brother showed a few large bills from his pocket—rare paper money that had little purpose other than to impress. “And then she begins pulling on my wad, but not talking, so I try to incentivize her, and I ask...” He paused and read from his Cuff. “Do you want us to let go?”
No, I thought. That wasn’t right. My head was still fuzzy. It ached. But of course he was lying. Of course he was believed. I grasped at him and caught his pant leg. He shook me off like a dog.
“I’ll need to take your receipt log into evidence,” one of the officers said to him as he moved me back. He was tall and tired-looking, his posture a bit slumped. His name was on his badge—Shalk, a cheap, public domain name like mine.
“We should wait for our Lawyer,” the indigo one said.
“S’okay,” the gold one said with a slow nod to the officer. He bumped Cuffs as the officer stood to initiate the transfer.
Officer Shalk nodded. “So, when did the boy jump?”
“Just after that.”
“I tried to hold him,” the indigo brother repeated.
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to think anymore. I felt nauseous. Pain throbbed though my skull, radiating from a large lump on the back of my head. I’d been hit or kicked while I was down. Or maybe I’d fainted and hit my head. Or maybe one of the brothers had knocked me out cold.
Saretha whimpered. She took another shock to her eyes for the sound.
“No,” she whispered, and was shocked again.
“I should have got him,” one of the brothers said, like he was a failed hero.
“He was pretty quick,” the maroon one said, consoling him. The theater of it made me ill.
“No!” Saretha cried. “He—” Her head stuttered back like she was having a seizure. Each word caused a shock.
“Miss,” Shalk said, “you can’t make a statement without a Cuff.”
I reached out to her, but she yanked away. She couldn’t see. She didn’t know it was me—or maybe she did. Did she blame me for this?
I tried to get to my feet. I had to do something.
“Miss,” Shalk said to me, “you need to stay seated.”
He was right. My legs wobbled and collapsed under me.
The gold one sniffed at us. “They’ll probably cook up some story about how this is our fault. That’s what we get for helping.”
“Mmmm,” Shalk considered.
“Please,” Saretha begged. Her eyes were streaming tears.
Officer Shalk drew a deep, annoyed breath. “Miss, stop. I have to log everything you say.” He tapped her words dutifully into his Cuff so she could be charged for them later.
“So anyway, I grabbed for him and he said, Don’t, like he was hell-bent on going over.” He looked over the edge. “I should’ve just looked away.”
“It’s very unfortunate,” Officer Shalk said. “This is the first time I’ve seen one go before Last Day.” The brothers nodded. The officer made a note on his Cuff.
“After that Pell girl, who knows what to expect?” the indigo brother offered.
“I just hope these kids learn from this,” the gold brother said.
“Yeah,” the maroon brother agreed.
“Learn what?” the officer asked. He looked from one brother to another as they each halfheartedly shrugged.
A Lawyer ambled up the bridge, unhurried, toward the brothers. He wore a slate-gray suit, cut in perfect lines, and a blood-red tie with thin gold edges. Pinned to his chest was a modest assortment of ribbons and badges in a tight, compact arrangement that suggested these few were but a hint of his full honors. His face was placid and calm, almost friendly. His sharp eyes crinkled up as he broke into a tranquil smile, but not so wide as to be inappropriate. There had been a tragedy, after all. He did not want to appear unseemly.
I hated him at once.
He stopped to offer the officer a hand. “Bennington Grippe,” he said. “Butchers & Rog.”
Officer Shalk looked at the man’s hand, unsure if he was worthy to shake it. Grippe took the lead, taking the officer’s hand and shaking it twice, firmly. Further along the bridge, the other officer stopped what he was doing to gawk.
“These men are represented by the firm,” Grippe pointed out, whirling a finger through the air to include the brothers. They all looked mightily pleased.
I bristled with rage. I wanted to kill these men. I wanted to leap up and push them all over the side. But I could barely stand. A horrid, sour guilt consumed me. I should have stopped them. I should have spoken.
Instead, I had let Sam die.
The bridge kept spinning, end over end, as I tried to get to my feet. I had to do something.
“Miss Harving?” Attorney Grippe’s voice asked. He was looking at Saretha with an approximation of surprise. He ignored my efforts to right myself.
Saretha stared blindly ahead, her eyes red and raw from the shocks.
“You know her?” Shalk asked.
Grippe waved the officer off, like Shalk didn’t matter anymore. He stepped over to Saretha, crouching down. The brothers fell in line behind him. They did not seem surprised at all.
“Miss Harving, where is your Cuff?”
He couldn’t possibly believe Saretha was Carol Amanda Harving, could he?
“The kid did say she was an actress,” the maroon one said to the officer, a smirk on his face.
Tears fell from Saretha’s eyes. I’m not sure she knew the Lawyer was talking to her. The three meaty brothers folded their arms and watched. Grippe turned back to Officer Shalk.
“Are you done with her?”
Shalk paused. He wasn’t finished, but he didn’t want to say no—not to one of Silas Rog’s men. He swallowed. “She is presently unable to answer questions.” Shalk tapped at his own Cuff to indicate hers was missing.
“Not to worry,” the Lawyer assured him. Grippe took Saretha by the arm, and she flinched, opening her mouth and then closing it. What was he doing?
I managed to stand, trying to find some strength in my legs. The world wanted to upend itself. Grippe noticed me, but showed no sign of recognizing or caring who I was. He pulled Saretha out of my reach. She was my sister. Did he understand that? My hand trembled. The bridge continued to roll under my wavering legs, but I fought it, steadying myself against the blithering of an Ad.
The officer looked at me, his eyes tired, his lips drawn thin.
“Miss, you need to sit.” A hand was on his belt, on his pepper spray or his gun—I couldn’t tell which. He shook his head at me, then turned back to the brothers and cleared his throat.
“Gentlemen, do you plan to sue her and her family?” the officer asked, angling a thumb at me.
The gold brother grinned. My insides began to boil. He tightened his lips around his teeth, thinking. “I probably should,” he said. “It would send the wrong message if I didn’t.”
Saretha suddenly jerked away from Attorney Grippe.
“Whoa,” Grippe said.
“Speth?” Saretha called to me, unseeing. Her face flinched with pain. I couldn’t answer. The second officer ran over and got hold of her. Attorney Grippe put a hand on her shoulder as well, but she wrenched away from both of them. “Speth?” she called again. She had to stop talking. She might lose her vision forever. I pressed toward her, still dizzy with pain and confusion. The brothers moved between us, forming a wall, keeping me from her. I wanted to call out, but if I hadn’t broken my silence to save Sam, I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now.
Grippe suddenly lost his mild expression and put his lips to Saretha’s ear.
“You have a choice,” he hissed in a harsh, spare whisper. “Stay here and live out whatever pathetic life Saretha Jime has left, or remember you’re Carol Amanda Harving.”
Saretha whimpered. She couldn’t know what this meant. I’d never been able to reveal the secret to her.
“Speth?” Saretha whispered. Her eyes twitched, and another tear dropped down her face. Her eyes ticked madly about, grotesquely red, full of broken blood vessels and tears. She couldn’t find me.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Grippe said.
I tried to press past the brothers, reaching my arms out to her, but they would not allow it.
“Do you need any help?” the officer asked, cringing a little.
“What I need,” Grippe said with sudden viciousness, “is privacy. I am speaking with my client.”
His teeth clicked on the T. Both officers moved off like cowering dogs. Then Attorney Grippe spoke a little more boldly.
“You will never get another opportunity. Mr. Rog is prepared to be very generous.”
Saretha whimpered again. “Speth.” She said my name with confusion and disillusionment, like I wasn’t who she’d believed me to be. I tried to push past the brothers, but now police were moving in from everywhere to pull me away.
Grippe shook his head. “They took Speth away,” he lied, his mouth hot in her ear, his eyes on me. “Don’t embarrass yourself for her. She couldn’t even speak one word to save him.”
Saretha closed her sore eyes. How did he already know what had happened?
“You have to choose—now. Saretha Jime, or Carol Amanda Harving.”
“I—” Saretha’s eyes flinched tighter, but then she relaxed, beaten.
She barely seemed to breathe as her body went limp. My heart ached. I wanted to hope she would choose me, her sister. I wanted to believe she knew I was still there.
The Lawyer smirked, then rubbed his face to conceal his satisfaction as I was backed into an Ad screen and forced to sit.
“Heroes are made, not born,” an Ad for Nike™ proclaimed behind me.
Grippe guided Saretha by the shoulders, and she shook under his hands. His eyes traveled the length of the bridge a moment, following the Ads.
“Don’t jump, don’t jump,” the Ad I leaned against softly sang. It was gentler than usual. The chipper theme softened, as if the panel had scanned my mood. The bunnies hopped more slowly. I had no Cuff, and yet the Ads did not ignore me.
Had the system scanned me and pitied me? Suddenly I realized something. The systems had scanned me. The Ads on the bridge had scanned everything. There was evidence of Sam’s murder stored on tiny chips inside. But I also knew Rog and his men would pick up the feeds from the uplink and WiFi and delete all that data. My body prickled. No. No, it would be worse than just erasing what had happened. Rog would replace it.
Butchers & Rog would use the scans of Sam, Saretha and me to recreate the scene. It would match whatever story the brothers told. History would be rewritten. They would have evidence to prove whatever they needed to prove.
In few hours’ time, the facts would be changed. I had to stop that...but how?
An idea itched at my brain. A memory—something about the night Henri saved me in that alley. Without a word, he’d smashed the Ad screens. He had seemed so strange and otherworldly. Now I just knew him as Henri, but either way, he’d shown me what I needed to do.
I summoned all the rage and courage I could find within myself. This was going to hurt.
I pulled my arm forward and slammed my elbow into an animated bunny’s face beside me, shattering the Ad as Bennington Grippe guided my sister away.