A single sentence was engraved on the wall of the Brass Junction:
FEAR THE TOPSIDE, OR BE CRUSHED BY ITS EMBRACE.
It was the single most powerful piece of Downside doctrine; all rules and rituals grew from that belief. Fallers were stripped of all but their soul; the no-man’s land of the High Perimeter was established; children were taught the evils of daylight, all to keep the worlds from touching, for it was believed that the slightest brush of one against the other could end both.
As a good citizen, this was something Railborn believed with all his heart. He knew what he was doing when he descended to the low dwellings—the fine apartments where the Wise Advisors lived. He had thought the whole thing through, and although the decision left him with a brutal case of the sweats, he knew he had to notify the Wise Advisors of what he had uncovered since his and Gutta’s strange encounter with Talon above the Bot.
“I believe a Topsider has seen the Downside.”
He stood in the doorway of the Fourth Advisor—a stocky, gray-haired man who had once been a baker before attaining this position of honor. Railborn chose to tell him rather than any of the other Advisors, because of his mild manner, evenhanded counseling, and his disarming, grand-fatherly smile.
But the man’s smile faded at the mention of a Topsider. Now he regarded Railborn as if he were the culprit and not just the messenger. “A Topsider? What are you talking about? How do you know this?”
Railborn stammered for a moment, cleared his throat, and stood straighter, determined to get it out. “I know because I saw her myself, Wise Advisor. I’ve spoken to everyone on the last Catching rotation—no one caught a girl our age, so I know she’s not a faller.”
“This is serious business. Come, sit down.” The Wise Advisor led him into his inner parlor, a spacious and well-adorned room. The low dwellings were larger and quieter than most, because advising wisely required a large, quiet place to ponder weighty questions.
Railborn sat down in a comfortable patchwork chair, and the old man sat across from him. “You’ve done the right thing coming here.”
“I know.” Railborn let his eyes wander around the room, decorated with only the best polished hubcaps and plastic knickknacks collected over many years. Gifts for solving disputes, no doubt. With trophies like these, Railborn felt comforted that he was now in the best of hands.
“This Topsider—how did she get here?” the Wise Advisor asked, his hands crossed calmly on his knee.
“She was brought here,” Railborn answered evasively.
“By whom?”
“A Downsider.”
“Which Downsider?”
Railborn had no rope left to dangle on, so he let go, setting the truth in free fall, and putting his faith in the Wise Advisor’s ability to fix all things.
“Talon Angler,” Railborn said. “Talon Angler brought her here.”
The Wise Advisor showed a moment of surprise, but quickly covered it. It was obvious that he knew Talon. But then, everyone knew Talon. Many people knew Railborn, too, but more often than not he was just known as “Talon’s friend.”
The Wise Advisor pursed his lips. “These are difficult times,” he said. “People think they can do as they please, with no consequences to their actions....”
“There’s no one to lay down the law,” agreed Railborn.
“Well, we need to make an example of Talon so this sort of thing won’t happen again,” the Advisor decreed. Then he regarded Railborn, eyebrows raised. “What do you think Talon’s punishment should be?”
“What do I think?” Railborn looked down. “Well...I think he should be pulled out of Hunting rotation,” suggested Railborn—a punishment that, not coincidentally, would leave their little trio a duo. A nice fringe benefit of having done the right thing.
“And?” prompted the Wise Advisor.
“Uh...and he should have to make up for what he’s done.” Railborn imagined three months of slime-scrubbing might humble Talon a bit.
“And?”
“And?” Railborn hadn’t considered any more “ands”— but this was why Wise Advisors held their positions: They were the ones who always thought one step beyond. “And,” concluded Railborn, “he should be stopped from ever going to the Surface again.” He imagined that if Talon were no longer allowed to roam the High Perimeter, he couldn’t be tempted by the Topside. Talon will thank me someday, thought Railborn. When he’s free from whatever spell that Topside girl has put him under, he’ll thank me for saving him.
The Wise Advisor studied Railborn a moment more, a hint of that warm smile returning to his face. “You’re Skeet Skinner’s boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Railborn, impressed to be recognized, even it had taken all this time.
“Your father keeps hinting that you possess all the qualities of a Most-Beloved. I can see now that he’s right.”
Railborn beamed. “You really think so?” It was something he never dared to speak aloud, although he dreamed of it often...but to be complimented in this way by a Wise Advisor was more than just a daydream. He couldn’t wait to tell Gutta!
The Wise Advisor slapped his knees and stood up. “Very well, then, we’ll do exactly as you say: Talon will be pulled from his rotations, made to pay for what he’s done, and we’ll make certain he never goes to the Surface again.”
Railborn said a respectful good-bye and left, bloated with civic pride and a sense that all wrongs would soon be righted, thanks to him, a leader in the making.
By the time the Downside rose to greet the new night, a rumor was shooting through the pipes that someone was about to be executed.
Guesses flew as to who the unlucky outlaw might be. Was it Tesla the Tapper, who was known to bribe Wise Advisors with free electricity taps from the city’s best transformers? Or maybe it would be Maggot the Tanner, who was once caught trying to pass off leather as fine vinyl.
Railborn knew that they all were wrong, and he raced to catch up with the execution party only to be turned away by a guard at the entrance to the Brooklyn Battery Passage. His heart was now filled with a hopeless sense of doom as he sat there, head in hands, at the passage entrance, and it occurred to him how just a few words spoken to the wrong person could crush one’s entire world.