More than Words

Emma leaned against her favorite sign.

Pickpockets will be hanged.

The message was not meant for her. No. It was intended to elicit a sense of calm to the high citizens of the New Republic, so they would come here and spend their credits. Members of High Society would climb down from their metal towers and sky-rise apartments without fear of losing their wealth to the likes of Emma or other pickpockets.

Nope. They were free to meander through the shops and waste their credits on nick-knacks and extravegant carpets, while Emma and the rest of the lowbies grew hungrier.

“Better to die than to be hungry,” Emma whispered to the rat on her shoulder.

Noah stood on his hind-legs and tittered. He had white fur, which she helped keep clean. He looked at her with his red eyes, little face expectant.

“Not yet,” Emma said, nodding upward.

The drones circled above the outdoor market. At the cry of alarm, the Eyes would swoop down with their tranq darts. And boom. She would become next week’s market-square entertainment.

No thanks.

Emma would wait for the Eyes to move to the next quadrant before getting to work. But it would not hurt for her to case potential marks while they walked by.

Shoppers passed through the entrance, not seeing her or Noah or the warning beside them. No one in the New Republic saw those of her caste. Unless, of course, she was caught stealing. Then they would all show up to the execution to hurl still-edible food and insults at her, while she died.

“I never understood that,” Emma said to Noah. “If they have that much food to waste, why not let us have it? Why make us dig it from the rubbish?”

Noah turned his little rat nose toward her, cocking his head to the side.

“I know,” she said. “You like rummaging through trash. But—”

Emma stopped mid-sentence as she noticed a girl her own age, walking with two well-dressed women. The girl carried a silver locket in her hand, looking at the heart-shaped pendant at the end of the chain. Smiling with glee, she traced a finger along the back. Her perfect face looked similar to that of the two women with a curl to her dark hair and almond eyes.

The women stopped at the produce vendor. One of the girl’s mums answered her phone. The other gathered fruits and vegetables.

Glancing up, Emma could no longer see the Eyes. They must have moved on. Time to get a closer look at that locket.

“Okay Noah,” she said, putting him in the pouch sewn into the lining of her jerkin, fit just for him. “Stay outta sight until it’s time.”

Emma waited until a group of teens passed her, then she slipped in behind them and made her way toward the locket. She stopped at the end of the table, head down as if interested in the fruit. Noah poked his head out, sniffing at the tangerines.

“Not yet,” Emma warned.

She needed to get closer to the girl, before her mum finished with the price and moved on. Emma pursed her lips, frowning at the fruit. She strolled around the tables, pointedly not looking at the girl or the silver locket.

Even so, as Emma came near, the girl frowned and placed the heart-shaped pendant in her pocket.

Perfect.

Emma nudged Noah’s pouch. He came out, climbed down the inside of Emma’s loose trousers and out the leg hole, then he slipped beneath the table. She had worked weeks to train him. He was a good rat. Before Noah, she had gone through one every other month. He had been with her for nearly 6 now.

“You should not be here.”

Emma flinched. Only then, did she notice the girl scowling at her.

“Oh?” Emma asked. “Why not?”

“You are one of them.”

Emma tilted her head and put on her best confused face. “What do you mean?”

“A lowbie,” she said as if it was a curse.

“Ah. Yes. I was born the old-fashioned way and not constructed in a lab. I shouldn’t have done that. My bad.”

The girl nodded as if taking Emma’s word as Truth. “You should just kill yourself. We would all be better off.”

“Well,” Emma said, nonplussed. “Not all of us. After all, I sort of prefer existing. You know, on the days I actually get to eat.”

Emma wanted to glance beneath the table. Noah should have done his thing by now. Where was that rat? He should hurry up, so she wouldn’t have to deal with this insipid brat.

The girl’s nose turned upward. “But you do not matter, lowbie. You stink. And your genes are … gross. You could make males.”

“That would be difficult, seeing as how all the men and boys were killed by the New Republic.”

The girl opened her mouth as if to spit some retort. But her eyes widened. She backed away, pointing.

Finally.

Rather than turn to see Noah, Emma scrambled backward and bumped into the girl, lifting the pendant as she did.

Only then, did the girl scream.

At first, Emma thought she’d been pinched. But no, the girl still looked at Noah. The vendor ran toward the little rat, holding a thick club. Emma returned to the spot he’d left.

Rats were clever creatures. They liked routine. He would retrace his steps back to her. Through the chaos.

Noah leapt down as the vendor smashed some of his own fruit. Noah ran for his little life. He jumped down, disappearing beneath the table. Seconds later, Emma felt him climb into the bottom of her trousers and up her leg.

Once he found his pouch, Emma backed away from the table, joining the onlookers in screaming and gawking.

The girl’s mums dropped the fruit as if it was poisoned with nuclear waste. Both women comforted the girl, holding her while she cried.

Emma rolled her eyes.

Highborn and their ridiculous standards. Much of this fruit would be thrown out. Or used to pelt some poor thief, while she hanged in the square.

Either way, Emma would scavenge what she could of it later.

For now, she slipped a peanut to Noah and made her way away from the market. Only when she reached the empty alley alongside the outer wall and a high rise did she pull the necklace from her pocket and look at the pendant.

She flipped over the silver heart and traced the engraving.

To Ava

Love, Mums

Ava was a popular enough name, this would sell well. She could get enough credits to eat for a week.

“My pendant!” came a shout from somewhere in the distance. “I dropped my necklace!”

“Well,” Emma said to Noah. “That’s our cue.”

Emma left the market and joined the bustle of pedestrians on the walkways. Before the war, these roads were used for vehicles. Now, only the government drove. None were here now though, so the way was open to people.

Few noticed, of course.

She turned south and walked until the fresh pavement became broken, then she turned east toward the foundries. The metal towers were where the lowbies who could afford it and the impoverished highborn lived.

Emma slept on the flat roofs above them all. But not yet. There was still just enough daylight left to see how many credits Charolette would give her for this.

Smiling, Emma went to the abandoned storefront behind the ghetto. Four women stood in front of the counter, arms crossed. All wore cudgels on loops at their belts, glaring at Emma. She ignored Charolette’s enforcers and marched up to the counter.

Charolette, an older woman of at least 30, sat in a tan chair, reading a novel from before the war—a hardback called By the Blade.

“What’d ya bring me?” she said without looking up.

“Silver necklace,” Emma said, placing her prize on the counter.

“New?”

“Yes. No scratches or nothing.”

“Don’t want it.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“Too easy to track. Books are moving well. Find more from before. A credit each.”

“You didn’t even look at it,” Emma protested. “It’s beaut—”

“I said no. Get it out of here. And if you know what’s good for ya, you’ll lob it in a hole. Now, git.”

The enforcers moved to grab Emma, but she backed away and ran out, sprinting toward the back of foundry. The enforcers didn’t follow, but she ran until she reached the ladder. The metal pegs shook as she climbed, making loud grinding noises.

But it was safe.

Better, no one would follow her up here. Reaching the top, she pulled herself over the ledge, rolled onto her back, and panted.

For several seconds, all she could hear was her own breathing and the distant sound of the drones, buzzing around the city.

Noah moved out of Emma’s pocket and sat on her chest, looking at her, expectantly.

“Looks like we’ll be sharing nuts and roaches tonight. But don’t worry. I’ll go to Westside tomorrow. Maybe Charlie will give us credits. If not—”

She heard a beeping sound.

Emma sat up. Noah moved to her shoulder.

Another muted beep.

Emma pulled the pendant out and studied it again. There were criminals who would abduct prominent highborn children and ransom them back to their mums. The New Republic were finding new ways to keep track of their kids. But surely not—

The beep was louder this time. It came from the silver heart. Emma’s breath caught.

“It has a tracker.”

She felt sick. Acid hit the back of her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest. Charolette had been right not to take this. Emma needed to be rid of it.

The buzzing of drones became louder. A glance back to the city, she saw them. Like dark birds, hanging in the air between two skyscrapers. The sun hung low in the evening sky, sinking behind the metal towers.

Emma could see people through their windows, preparing dinners. Laughing and talking. Sharing each other’s lives. Watching them from up here, she could almost feel normal. Like one of them. But no. That was a fantasy.

Society needed people like Emma. The flawed. They needed a reason to feel superior. Old Republic, new republic, or whatever this would become in the future, it did not matter.

As long as humans still existed, there would be the throw-aways.

There would be Emmas and Noahs.

Briefly, she considered lobbing the pendant over the side of the building. But it was too late. The Eyes could see her. The red glow of the drones came ever closer.

She pulled out the handful of nuts and placed them on the ground. Noah scrambled over to his feast, no longer interested in Emma. But she did not blame him. She envied the full belly he would have.

“Take care of yourself,” she said with a smile. “May your next friend find enough food for—”

She felt a sting in her arm, then a sluggishness. Her legs became weak. She staggered and fell. Just enough energy to flip onto her back.

The sky was pink now, streaked with purple.

A drone landed on her chest, but she could barely feel the weight of it. She had never seen one this close. It had 4 sets of propellers, one at each corner. The lens in the front shifted to her face. The eye became narrower. She could see a blurry image of herself on the shiny surface. Another dart thudded into her chest. This one hurt. But she did not feel the pain for long.

Her last thought before she lost consciousness was of her favorite sign.

Pickpockets will be hanged.

Perhaps, the message was for her after all.