4. Odyssey

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“Heya, noob,” said Ned as she pulled up in one of Len’s blue-and-gold pedicabs. “Ready for your road test?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Kim had spent every available moment since Oneday studying the maps of Subdistrict 33.10. She’d memorized the locations of the transit stations, mastered the numbering scheme for the housing complexes and the buildings, and taken careful note of landmarks during her morning and evening commutes. In typical UCE fashion, the entire subdistrict was a marvel of mind-numbing uniformity, with one kind of apartment building, one kind of housing complex, one kind of dining hall, and one kind of bus station. If someone said, “Take me to housing complex 22, building 37,” they had told you all there was to know about their destination. There were lesser-known byways in the gaps between the subdistricts—places where portions of the ancient road network survived—and industrial areas where those deemed employable were sent off to work. Len decided to leave those off the test, as there would be plenty of work for her within the subdistrict proper.

“Climb in. Let’s get going.”

Kim settled into the driver’s seat as Ned climbed into the back, unzipping the top flap and sticking her head up so she could see observe Kim’s performance. While Ned was getting herself situated, Kim took a few moments to familiarize herself with the controls. Gear shifts, hand brakes, steering—everything seemed conventional enough, though not in the usual locations. But what were these other gadgets?

“Hey Ned, care to explain some of these controls?”

“Parking brake is to the left, by your hip,” replied Ned. “The struts are controlled by a thumb switch on the right, just below the gear shift. Make sure you’re moving fast enough to be stable before you retract them, and don’t forget to put them back down before you come to a stop. Len will be unhappy if we fall over and rip the cowling. You don’t want that, trust me.”

“Roger that. Speedometer?”

“It’s on the front, just below the windscreen.”

“Headlight?”

“In the center. Press it to turn it on. There’s also a flasher setting—hold it down for three seconds until it starts to blink.”

Kim ran her hands over the controls, checking and rechecking their locations. Front derailleur, rear derailleur, front and rear hand brakes, parking brake, struts.

“C’mon, let’s get going; we don’t have all night,” said Ned, sticking her head up through the cowling and sounding impatient.

“Calm down. We’re not going anywhere until I can find everything without looking.”

Kim made one more pass over the controls just to be certain, then another to annoy Ned, and at last she was ready to go. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then released the parking brake. Straining at the pedals, she set the heavy pedicab into motion, taking it easy at first to get a feel for the bike. She checked out the derailleurs—they were excellent, shifting up and down through the gears with ease. She squeezed the heavy-duty disk brakes and found them smooth and powerful. The steering was precise, visibility from the driver’s seat was excellent, the instruments easy to read, and the tires rolled along with a minimum of friction despite their deep, meaty treads. It was a well-built, well-maintained machine, and it must have cost plenty.

“Sweet ride,” she said, genuinely impressed. Kim had always been told that the residents of the outer districts were little more than gangsters and thugs, but she realized that this was just another lie. People were sent here because they could not or would not follow the rules, not because they were stupid—although that did sometimes come with the territory.

“Turn right at the next intersection,” said Ned once Kim had finished putting the pedicab through its paces. “After that, there’s a long, straight stretch. How about showing me some speed?”

Hell yeah! Time to see what this baby can do!

Kim made the turn, then cranked it up a couple of notches, propelling them ever faster with her powerful thighs. Quicker and quicker, the wheels sang merrily as they flew across the pavement, twenty, thirty, forty kph, more and more, until Ned became nervous, barking at Kim to slow down.

“Hey, that’s fast enough, noob. You crazy or something?”

“What, too fast for you? Scared?”

“No need to show off.”

This, fast? I’ll show you fast. Let’s have a little fun!

Kim redoubled her efforts and notched the pedicab into the highest gear, the wind rushing past her head as she pushed herself and the bike to their limits. Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven.

Focus on the cadence, focus on the power stroke. Come on, come on, you can do it.

Another pedicab came into view up ahead, poking around at a sedate twenty kph. Hit the brakes? Not on your life! She whipped the cab into the left-hand lane, passed the other vehicle as if it were standing still, then veered back to the right. Luck was with her, and she got away with the dangerous maneuver.

“Dammit, noob! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Kim paid her no attention, her legs a blur within the cowling of the bike. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. A final push, lungs heaving and legs burning. Fifty!

Yeah, baby! Sweet! The Beast still has it!

Heart pounding, chest heaving, she felt a sense of accomplishment as she allowed the pedicab to coast for a while, then pedaled on at a sedate fifteen kph while she caught her breath and allowed herself to recover.

“What kind of crazy are you?” said Ned in a voice betraying both terror and admiration.

“They called me ‘The Beast’ back in school. I rode for the team, and there’s only one person who could ever beat me.”

“And who would that be?”

“Shan.”

“The one they say you knifed and buried in the woods?”

“The same. If you think that was crazy, be glad it wasn’t her driving the bike. She’s plain old loco.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

_

“I have to admit I’m impressed,” said Ned as they cruised down the pathway. “You’re easily the strongest rider I’ve ever seen, and it’s not even close. I think I hit fifty once, but that was downhill, and I didn’t have a passenger in the back. But there’s more to being a pedicabbie than brute strength.”

Ned began her navigational quiz. “Quick, where are we now?”

“Just south of housing complex 16.” Kim had expected something like this.

“How would you get from transit station 3 to complex 15?”

She knew the way cold. “Head east past stations 5, 7, and 9. Skirt the edge of the work center, and you’re there.”

“What’s the best way to get back to your apartment from here?”

That was easy. “Turn around, ride past complex 19, take the first left. The third building on the right.”

“Okay, you’ve done your homework. Now let’s see if you can do it on the road. Take us to transit station 10. That’s where I picked you up the other night.”

“One more thing,” Ned added, “don’t ever pull a crazy-ass stunt like that ever again, especially not with a passenger on board. That was a stupid noob move, and Len doesn’t have any use for stupid noobs. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”

Kim had known full well that asking Len for a job as a pedicabbie had been cheeky, and she’d been surprised—astounded, actually—when Ned had been assigned to give her a road test. But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted this job. She had earned a few precious coins in exchange for helping some of the older residents carry parcels up to their dwellings, and on one occasion she’d even been invited in for a bit of polite conversation and a cup of coffee. Clothing, roach poison, mouse traps, materials to repair the walls of her apartment—it all cost money, and lugging parcels at ten centimes a pop wasn’t going to cut it. To top it off, this was fun! Much better than slaving away at the work center.

“Emergency stop!” shouted Ned, and Kim slammed on the brakes, expertly feathering them to avoid a dangerous skid. The pedicab slowed and started to teeter…Damn! She almost forgot to put down the struts. She flicked the button with her thumb, and they came down just in time to avert an embarrassing sideways fall.

“Good stop,” said Ned. “I couldn’t have done it better myself, but you were slow getting the struts down. Watch it next time.”

“Sure thing.”

It didn’t take long to reach the transit station, and once they arrived, Ned pointed out the best places to park the cab while looking for fares and gave her some tips on negotiating. “Charge whatever the traffic will bear. Half for you, half for Len, and don’t even think about shortchanging her. And never, ever, give someone a free ride. It’s bad for business.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

_

“Time to hit the bike camp,” said Ned. “Len will be there, and we shouldn’t keep her waiting. Take a right at the next intersection and head for the river.”

Bike camp? Kim had no idea what a bike camp might be, but she did as instructed, turning onto an ill-maintained road that sloped steeply downhill, passing through an area dotted with abandoned industrial structures.

“Where are we going?” asked Kim as she slowed their descent. “This wasn’t on any of the maps I could find, and it looks like it’s been abandoned for years. Some sort of manufacturing area?”

“Most of the factories shut down when I was a kid. There used to be plenty of jobs, or so they say, but all that’s left now are the UCE work centers. After the companies pulled out, the Hierarchy began using this as a dumping ground, sending people here as punishment. It’s like they want our lives to be miserable.”

Wham! Thud!

Kim hadn’t seen the water-filled hole in time to avoid it.

“Hey, watch it, noob.”

“Sorry. I bet the bikes take a pounding on these roads.”

“That they do,” said Ned, jostled about as Kim drove over another rough stretch of pavement. “Len’s mechanics are busy all the time, straightening wheels and replacing damaged components.”

Interesting. If Kim couldn’t get hired as a pedicabbie, maybe she could come in as a mechanic. She’d been around bicycles most of her life, and there had to be something she could do for Len.

“We’ve almost reached the river,” said Ned when the road began to level off. “Turn left at the bottom of the hill.”

Up ahead, Kim could just make out the mighty Delaware, a dark expanse of water that wound its way along the edge of the city. A bridge had once stood here, evidenced by the concrete piers and the remains of the abutments, but there was no trace of the span itself, which must have come down ages ago.

Across the river, Kim could see the factories and mid-rise apartment blocks of the middle districts, a place she used to think of as austere and dreary, but which now seemed both luxurious and extravagant, full of wonders such as clean water and refrigerators. Beyond those, she could just make out the high-rises of the inner districts, shining and bright. And then, looming over them all, was the dark monolith of concrete and steel that housed the AIs. Grim though it appeared, it was, in a way, a magical place where the material and virtual worlds intermingled like nowhere else. She made the turn, then rode on in silence, thinking about everything she had left behind.

A bit over four kilometers down the road, they reached a wall of reinforced concrete. Ten meters tall and topped with sharpened spikes of metal, it had once been a formidable barrier, but now it presented only a minor inconvenience, owing to a chasm blasted through its middle.

“What’s this for?” asked Kim. “To keep us in, or keep other people out?”

“A bit of both, I suppose,” answered Ned. “Not that it matters. They occasionally try to repair it, but we just blast another hole, and at this point, they’ve mostly given up.”

“What’s on the other side?”

“Someplace that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s called Trenton.”

_

Beyond the wall lay a wild, ungoverned land called ‘the outside.’ Kim had heard of it but had never given it much thought. Outside? Outside of what? An area outside the jurisdiction of UCE? Of the companies? Of society itself? No wonder the powers-that-be had walled it off.

Once they had passed through the gap, Ned had Kim turn to the left, paralleling the wall and leaving the river behind. It was tough going, hauling a passenger up the hill, but Kim was more than equal to the task, keeping a steady cadence in the next-to-lowest gear. She focused on her breathing and heart rate, careful not to push herself too hard.

“Quite a workout, isn’t it?” said Ned, lolling around in the back. “For you, that is.”

“Nah,” said Kim, “I’m just loafing along. Don’t want to shake you around any more than necessary.”

They both got a laugh out of that.

They soon left the wall and turned to the right, entering a wooded area that might once have been a park, with a network of narrow roads that branched and rejoined, looping around in an irregular fashion. Rutted trails disappeared out of sight into the woods, campfires flickered through the gnarled and leafless trees, and the distinctive smell of wood fires hung in the air.

They turned onto one of the dark and mysterious side paths and soon arrived at a clearing with a half dozen sheds of various sizes, constructed of whatever material could be salvaged from the ruins dotting the landscape: plywood, sheets of corrugated metal, panels of that grayish plastic often used in lieu of windows. A fire blazed away in a metal trash barrel in the center of the clearing, around which Len stood with pair of shadowy figures. They looked oddly familiar, with long, scraggly hair, missing teeth, pockmarked skin, and the tattered remnants of clothing.

“Blanks?”

Oops. That was a mistake. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

The conversation halted, and nervous seconds passed while Len and the others fixed their gazes on Kim.

One of the vagrants held up her right hand, showing a scar on the underside of her wrist.

“Right you are,” she said. “There aren’t many Pretties who’ve seen us even once. Fewer still a second time, and most of those end up joining us. Beware! Without an ID chip, it’s like you were never born. That might not sound so bad, but wait until you want to eat or come in from the cold, or until someone decides it’s okay to stick a knife in you because they can’t go to jail for killing someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Follow me,” said Len, ushering Kim, Ned, and the Blanks into the largest of the ramshackle buildings. It was cozy in there, warmed by a wood fire burning in a brick fireplace. Grimy and sooty though it was, the warmth and smell were comforting, as was the gentle flickering light of the candles which served for light. Bits and pieces of bicycles and pedicabs, painted in Len’s colors of blue and gold, were strewn about the interior, some leaning against a wall, some hanging from the rafters, some simply tossed into a heap on one side of the room. The walls were lined with rusty metal shelves crammed full of lubricants, tools, paint, cleaners, and numerous parts and components, some new, some old, some evidently salvaged from the junk pile.

Ned and Len conferred for a moment, then gestured for Kim to sit with them at the table, along with the Blanks.

“Who are you really?” asked Len after everyone was settled into their chairs. “And how do you know about Blanks?”

Kim thought for a while about how much to divulge, at the same time sizing up Len and the others. She had no reason to trust any of them—they might have been compromised by the companies or by the Hierarchy, and she was already suspicious of Ned. But it would be dangerous to give no answer at all. It was a matter of figuring out how much of the truth to tell, as was often the case.

“The second part is simple enough,” answered Kim. “One day, a friend and I got on our bikes and went on a little road trip.”

“The one they say you killed?” asked Ned, always suspicious.

“Yes, Shan. Anyway, it was mostly dull, but we stumbled across some things the companies wanted kept secret—like an old ruined city with a group of vagrants who called themselves Blanks. It was a brief encounter lasting maybe two minutes, but it made an impression. When I arrived in your camp, I saw your friends here, and, let us say, the resemblance was remarkable.”

Kim carefully studied the faces of the Blanks, searching for any change of expression that might provide a hint as to how to proceed. She picked up nothing except for an unnerving impression that it was the Blanks who were studying her more than vice versa. Len remained impassive, impossible to read.

“As for me,” continued Kim after a nervous pause, “I seem to have a talent for getting into trouble. First, I went on that bicycle ride with Shan, where I stumbled across the Blanks. The AIs were watching me the whole time, and I nearly got fired. Next, I was exposed as a Genderist. They offered me remoderation but I refused. I got suspended from my job for that one. Finally, I slipped off into the woods with Shan, and we got caught having sex. They were so pissed they sent a helicopter to fetch me. I gave them their little show trial and a confession in exchange for staying out of prison, and they sent me to District 33. That’s about it. End of the story, end of the line.”

Len waited a couple of moments, then said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, “You’re not telling us everything.”

“No,” said Kim, “I’m not. The companies and the Hierarchy have eyes and ears everywhere, and not all of them are AIs. I’m sure you’re not going to be telling me everything about your business. Nor do I want to know.”

“Why, you little…” began Ned, angrily rising from her chair before Len put up a hand commanding silence.

“Fair enough,” said Len. “I’ll mind my business, you’ll mind yours. Speaking of which, Ned says you’re strong enough to ride, and she thinks you’ll work out once you know the roads, so maybe I’ll take you on. I’ve not decided yet.”

“I’ve not decided if I’m going to ride for you either,” said Kim. “I need to know what I’m getting into before I make up my mind.”

“Entirely reasonable,” said Len, raising an eyebrow as if surprised by the question. “If I take you on, I’ll start you on delivery runs one day a week. No questions asked, no tales told, and I’ll pay you when the job is done. Understood?”

“Crystal clear,” said Kim. “Anything else?”

“Yes, you’ll need a bike.”

“And where can I get one?” asked Kim.

“See that pile of junk over there? That’s your bike,” sneered Ned. “And your ride home. Have fun!”

Ned and Len both laughed as they walked out the door with the Blanks, leaving Kim uncertain as to whether this was some sort of joke, a rite of initiation, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter. If she didn’t find a way to cobble together a serviceable bicycle, she was walking home.

_

There, done! That looks like a bike! Kinda. Alright, it’s ghastly, but it’ll do.

It had been fun, despite the stress—a test of Kim’s ingenuity. An old off-road bike from the junk heap provided the frame, another the front fork with its heavy-duty suspension. Derailleurs and brakes were no problem: there were plenty sitting there on the shelves. Wheels—not so easy. Most of the ones in the salvage heap were bent and twisted beyond repair, and when she finally found a couple that she could true up, they were comically mismatched, the front one five centimeters smaller than the one in the rear. At least the workshop was well equipped, with plenty of tools, and the lighting was adequate once she found the switch to turn on the workbench light.

It was just after midnight when she finally emerged with her monstrosity.

The fire was out.

She was alone.

Where had they all gone?

She stood there, staring at the still-smoldering campfire with no idea what to do next when a Blank appeared out of the darkness. “They’re not here,” she said.

Fighting down a wave of panic, Kim responded with forced calmness, “I don’t suppose they told you why they left, did they?”

“Because I asked them to,” responded the Blank, sending a further rush of adrenaline coursing through Kim’s body. She forced herself to stay calm.

“You said you met some of us in an old city,” continued the Blank. “I think maybe you were also in the town at the crossroads. Is that correct?”

“Correct.”

“On a bicycle, with one other Pretty named Shan, correct?”

“Correct.”

The Blank, still expressionless, moved close to Kim and whispered in her ear, almost inaudibly, “Then you’re the Pretty that Hamish was talking about, and I have a message for you. Your friend is safe. And now you must go: Len says you can’t stay here tonight.”

Kim stared in mute disbelief as the Blank faded into the darkness once more.

Shan was safe! The shock and fear occasioned by the empty camp and her encounter with the Blank suddenly dissipated. Shan had made it to the crossroads and was with friends—it was more than she had dared to hope for.

Now what? How could she possibly find her way home, alone and unguided? At least the moon was full; she’d not been able to find a working headlight, despite a protracted search through the contents of the shed.

She set off into the night, hoping to retrace her steps.

_

At first, everything seemed familiar enough. She found her way back to the start of the dirt trail leading to the bike camp, then turned onto the roadway, which was exactly as she expected it to be. The flickering lights, the smell of the campfires—it matched her recollections. And then she came to a weed-choked field that she didn’t recall having ridden through.

Oops, maybe I made a wrong turn just back there.

She backtracked, hoping to find whatever turn she’d missed.

Wait…I’m not in the park anymore. Damn, where the blazes am I?

Before long, Kim was completely lost, each attempt to backtrack leading to further befuddlement. She had no idea where she was, except that it was some nonexistent place called Trenton. She did, at least, have two large and unmissable landmarks: the river and the wall. If she could find either of those, she might be saved, but she had no idea in which direction either might lie. Making matters worse, the temperature was dropping like a stone; her toes and fingers were already painful and starting to get numb.

On she rode. At last, she came to a major thoroughfare leading toward a built-up area. It had been abandoned for a considerable period of time, but most of the buildings were still standing. Some even looked inhabited, with the thinnest tracings of light around the edges of their shuttered windows.

Perhaps someone might help her.

She parked her bike by the roadside, walked up to a doorway, and knocked, hoping that whoever answered would be friendly.

She heard someone moving around on the other side of the door.

“Hello?” Kim said plaintively.

“Git,” came a voice from the other side of the door, along with the distinctive click-click of someone cocking a rifle.

Kim didn’t have to be told twice. So much for that idea.

Returning to her bike, she continued along that wide avenue for some time, past side streets choked with overgrown trees, past long-neglected structures, their roofs caved in and windows broken. Some bore ornate façades of stone, others were utilitarian and modern, and others still were simple, unpretentious structures of brick. The full moon bathed everything in a pale silvery-yellow light, casting long shadows upon the ground, lending the ruinous cityscape a surreal, other-worldly feel. Desperation began to creep in, but it was far too late to second-guess her decisions, all of which seemed to have ended in disaster of late.

She had just found the park once more, when she heard something up ahead. What was that? Chanting?

Yes, solemn, rhythmic chanting, though not in any language Kim could recognize.

She rode closer and soon found an open plaza with a huge oak tree and a circle of Wiccans dancing around it in a ring. She breathed a sigh of relief and got no closer. They were not a threat, but it would be impolite to interrupt their arcane ritual.

Kim was about to mount up when she heard movement behind her and turned to see a black-clad individual approaching slowly with a knife in her hand.

Uh-oh.

Kim spun the other way, hoping to escape, but spotted another thug coming from the opposite direction.

Great. Two of them. They had her surrounded, and they didn’t look friendly.

“Look what we found!” said the less gigantic of the two. “Our friend, the Lady Killer, wandering out here all alone with just Mags and Luz for company. Most peculiar.”

Those two again! How did they find me?

“Yeah,” said Luz, looking at Mags and then at Kim. “What would a Pretty like you be doing out here at night, we wonder. Not very smart, little Pretty. Not very smart at all.”

The thugs were drawing closer, almost within arm’s reach.

“Hey, no reason for trouble,” said Kim, desperately trying to defuse the situation. “No reason to be unfriendly.”

“Well, listen to that!” said Mags. “It thinks we might be unfriendly!”

“It thinks we’re looking for trouble,” sneered Luz. “So suspicious!”

While the two were chuckling over Kim’s apparent naïveté, her hand reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out the switchblade Len had given her. Her finger was on the catch, but that was as far as she planned to go—the last thing Kim wanted was an actual fight.

“Whoa,” said Mags. “Who gave you that toy, little Pretty? Pretties shouldn’t play with knives. Most unwise.”

“Yeah,” said Luz, “Most unwise.”

“I got it from Len,” said Kim, grasping at straws. “This is one of her bikes, by the way. She’ll be mighty unhappy if something happens to it. You know how she is.”

They stopped advancing.

Luz looked at the bike and its blue-and-gold paint job.

“We don’t want trouble with Len, so we’ll let you go this time,” said Mags, “but if you’ve been spinning tales, we’ll track you down, chop you into little pieces, then have you for dinner in our stew.”

“Yeah,” added Luz as she retreated to the shadows. “Now beat it.”

_

How had they found her? Someone must have tipped them off as to her location, but who? Not Len or Ned; they would have no idea of Kim’s whereabouts.

One of the Blanks? Not likely.

Perhaps it was Kimberly. But if so, how was the AI tracking her? She didn’t have her headset or mobile with her—she’d known better than that—and she doubted there were any security cameras hidden in these ruins.

Trouble from above?

Kim closed her eyes and listened, straining to identify sounds at the edge of perception. Wind. Wildlife. The chants of the cultists. And then she heard it: the distinctive whine of a drone. And where there was a drone, there was an AI lurking in the shadows.

Mags and Luz were working for Kimberly—it was hard to escape the conclusion. How else could they have known what bus Kim would be arriving on? Who else could have tipped them off about the video—they had referred to her as ‘Lady Killer’ before it had been played. It was exactly as the Director had said: her creation was watching her every move, tracking her, feeding information to her enemies.

She kept listening, hoping to hear some clue that might guide her to safety, when she heard something else, something unexpected, riding the fickle late-night air.

Music? Here?

It seemed unlikely, but yes, it was there: the unmistakable sound of a muted trumpet and the thump-thump-thump of a string bass. Where there was music, there would be people, and with them, the possibility of shelter and safety.

Kim rode down the abandoned boulevard at a snail’s pace, searching for the source of the elusive tunes. Ride for a couple of blocks. Stop. Listen. It sometimes took a minute or more to pick it up again, but it always came back. And then, she lost it for ten long and nerve-wracking minutes. Had she been imagining things? She was beginning to think that the answer might be yes, but then, at last, she caught a distant chord from a piano coming from behind her.

She must have ridden past it.

She reversed, then went down a promising side street and was rewarded as the music became louder, with more instruments emerging from the shadows. Drums, trumpets, and trombones, then the saxes and the bass again.

There! That must be it!

A thin sliver of light shone around the edges of a door, next to which a blue and yellow sign identified the establishment as a nightclub of sorts: The Blue Moon.

_

“Kinda late for a Pretty like you to be out wandering the streets,” said the bouncer, finishing the pat down.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” said Kim, “but stuff happens.”

“Don’t it for sure. You’re clean but keep that blade out of sight. The boss don’t take kindly to anyone pulling steel. Neither do I. Understand?”

Kim shrugged. “Sure.”

“Cover is five francs.”

“Err,” stammered Kim.

“You’re broke,” said the bouncer. It was a statement of fact, not a question.

“Ahh, well, yeah, pretty much. I just want to warm up for a while, maybe listen to the music, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Scram!”

“Please,” said Kim, “I’m on a bicycle, and I got lost. How do I get to District 33?”

The bouncer stared at Kim in disbelief. “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot. What are you, crazy or stupid? It has to be one or the other because nobody’s that big a liar.”

“A bit of both, apparently. Please, could you at least point me in the right direction?”

The doorkeeper’s scowl softened, and she began to smile. “Okay, I’ll cut you a break. Come in and warm yourself, just don’t let anyone know I let you in for free. You can sit in the back.”

The door opened, and Kim entered the nightclub. The room was set up for dancing, with tables clustered around the walls and the middle of the room left open. It was late, and the place was nearly empty, with just a few Aficionados sitting by the stage, a lone Tobacconist filling the air with the foul stench of a cigar, and a handful of provocatively dressed Genderists dancing slowly in the center of the room, not bothering to keep time with the music.

At last, she had found it—that elusive thing called freedom — in a place where they played Jazz, smoked tobacco, and dressed however they pleased. She wanted to mingle with these people, get to know them, talk about music, maybe dance, but the doorman had asked her to keep a low profile, and so she sat in the back, captivated by the music.

Dawn was in the air when the band played Mood Indigo, indicating that it was time to go, and as she walked out the door, she tossed the doorman her last franc and smiled. Kindness and beauty were not extinct, and perhaps there was hope after all.