Sidney wasn’t the nicest guy. He knew it and didn’t make much of an effort to disagree when someone called him on it. Which was often. It wasn’t any single thing, nor was it anything obvious. He kept pretty good personal hygiene. He didn’t cuss people for their choices and he did his job well. In fact, he was damned good at his job.

The few people he did call friends – normally in the privacy of his own mind – he’d made at work. There was something about being part of the Solution that came with a ready-made camaraderie. He’d even taken the classic Sweeper-mechanic look; shaved head to better display his prominent eyebrows, scowl and pierced nostrils. It hadn’t helped much but he liked it. His face looked a little less starving-orphan and bit more manly. The overalls helped as well, camouflaging his wretchedly-thin frame and making him just ‘one of the guys’.

Sidney dumped the wrench and leaned back, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of one huge glove. The crystals were toxic, even before the Sweepers went out. He’d seen the hands of the older guys, from before they made the gloves compulsory, and they made him want to be sick. The skin was so thin it looked like the shell of an onion, translucent and wrinkled.

How it’d taken them so long to enforce the gloves he’d never know. It was centuries since the sweeps began, but still generations of guys had retired with hands they could barely use. His thoughts circled back around. He was a decent guy. He cared about these kinds of things and the people they affected. So what was everyone’s issue with him?

He snorted and scooped up his wrench. Four more bolts and the crystal net would come free and tumble into the bottom of the Hanger. He loved the sound, like stars striking the Earth. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke and on the evenings he didn’t get to watch the Sweepers fly out, he’d remember the sound and still want to come to work the next day.

The Hanger was quiet today. It meant he had more work to do, which sucked, but more work meant the day went quicker and more falling stars. He attacked the bolts with renewed vigour and sighed in satisfaction as he removed the last and dumped it in the box.

He grabbed the pole and slipped it between the net and the clamp, levering gently until it came away. He crawled around the gantry, repeating the process at each join until the net clung on by the smallest points. Then with a deep breath, he hooked the centre and pulled.

The net fell away, a house-sized spiderweb of wires spun through with crystals tumbling down. He watched it fall and grinned as the sound rose up to him. The echoes died slowly as he checked out the rest of the Hanger.

They had three in perma-dock, so there were thirty seven to be treated. The nets were removed and sent below where the cleaning arms would be scraping and stealing the tainted crystal. Once that was done they’d take delivery of the new nets and get them on, all in time for the night flight. With four guys off sick and another two working on the three that should have been mothballed ten years ago.

Sidney snorted and rubbed the side of his head. He needed coffee. And maybe an extra six hours in a day. Days like this were why he wasn’t the boss. That and being passed over for promotion twice. He snorted again. It was gonna be one of those days.

The coffee machine spoke to him in a language he liked far more than English. The gentle coughing and spluttering as his cup filled was like a song that lifted his spirit and made the rest of the day already seem shorter. His hand was part way to the cup when he heard a voice he didn’t recognise.

Sidney had a good ear. His mum had said it when he used to sing along to the songs on Vtube. Even the really long ones, the two minuters, he’d learn in a couple of listens and belt out at the top of his voice. He didn’t know every guy in the Hanger but he knew most of them. And he knew the way they sounded. This guy didn’t sound like that.

‘The time’s getting near and you aren’t any closer to shutting down.’

‘God damn it, Tran, when are you gonna believe me?’ This was a voice he recognised. Davin ran the Hanger, a real government man, born and bred. ‘We’ll just make em redundant. One day they’re all here, the next they’re at home and the sweeping’s finished.’

‘You’ve said that before, but you don’t understand. These gentlemen are all on their own holy missions. They think they’re doing some higher work—’

‘They are. Hell, these guys are flying twelve-hour nights and asking for more shifts. They’re saving the city and if that ain’t higher work then I don’t—’

‘No they’re not.’

‘Yeah, fine, the crystals are saving the city, whatever, these guys’re—’

‘No, I mean, the crystals aren’t saving the city. None of this is saving the city.’

Sidney’s blood ran cold and he stared at the thick dark liquid slowly cooling in his hand. What the hell did he mean? He took a step to the left and peered around the edge of the coffee machine. The windows to the office were darkened and all he saw was his reflection. He ducked back, noticing the open window at the top of the wall. Big mistake.

The posh guy let out a sigh loud enough to be heard through the window and Sidney leaned closer, finally taking a sip of the coffee. It burned the end of his tongue and he jumped, scalding liquid slopping onto his hands. He swore under his breath and put the coffee on the edge of the machine.

‘Look, Davin, I’m talking to you now because you have a choice. It’s only us lifers that get to choose, so count yourself lucky. The end’s coming. We’re switching everything off and heading off-world.’

The silence that followed stole Sidney’s breath. He imagined the boss, mouth-open and eyes-wide as he took in the news. Who was going off-world? And when was this ‘end’ coming?

‘I’m not going to tell you any more than you need to know. So be satisfied with the fact that the sweepers aren’t doing anything useful. Quite the opposite in fact. Earth needs terraforming and before that happens it needs cleansing.’

The word pushed Sidney back a step. He’d read about cleansing. He knew all about cleansing and what he knew made sweat break across his brow. Davin finally found his voice. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘Because you have the choice. Not many outside the Database are being given the chance, but you’ve been with us a long time now. The evacuation starts next week. Cleansing’s six months away, but there are other things going on. You can choose to come with us and be grateful, or stay here and be muzzled. It’s your call. If you’re thinking about staying, let me know and I can send you a picture of how they muzzle deserters.’

Sidney blinked, his eyes focusing on the machine before him. He stared at the different makes of coffee, all promising him a better taste than the others. The cleansing was coming in six months. And what was more, the sweepers didn’t do what they thought they did. To his surprise, he realised it was that, rather than the abstract idea of the world ending, that hurt the most. The efforts of thousands of pilots and engineers over hundreds of years was meaningless… his fists clenched and he ground his teeth together. His face was hot and his breath came in short bursts.

He grabbed for his coffee, longing for something normal, and raised it to his lips. He took a swig and swore as he spat the still-boiling drink across the floor. His tongue burned like he’d pressed a cigarette to it and the cup fell from his hand. It cracked as it struck the metal, the rigid plastic shattering and spilling coffee all over the floor.

In the silence that followed, Sidney heard something that stopped his breath entirely.

‘Someone’s been listening.’

‘Let me check—’

‘Don’t bother. It’s too late for them.’

He heard the gentle pulsing of a Vcam, followed by the posh man’s voice again. ‘We’ve got a leak. He’ll be leaving the Hanger any moment. I’ll send you the DNA trace. Sort it out.’

The pulsing stopped. Sidney stared at the floor and the rapidly expanding pool of coffee. Who the hell was this guy? Like that was the most important question. He had a Vcam that connected first time and a DNA tracer, which put him up there with the Riders. Maybe he was a Rider. Sweat broke across his brow and his hand shook where he gripped the edge of the coffee machine.

If this guy was a Rider, Sidney may as well hand himself over now. Better yet, go throw himself off the edge of the Hanger. Same result only much simpler and quicker. He took another breath and shook his head. Nah, he wasn’t a Rider, he wouldn’t have called someone else to come and catch him. But maybe he’d called a Rider. Crap.

He broke and ran, boots thumping on the ancient metal grating. The Hanger itself had switched to plasticrete a long time ago but the offices were just as they’d been for the last few hundred years. His eyes caught glimpses of the patches and repairs as he ran. He’d seen them all a thousand times, but they looked different now. They’d always been welcoming, like an old tool with the worn edges and chips and divots. Now they just looked old and worn, like the building was ready to collapse.

He had to get out. He ran faster, legs complaining at the sudden burst of speed. He took the stairs two at a time and shoved through the doors. The lifts waited and he jumped in one and put his back against the wall. As he hammered the ground key, his eyes scanned the corridor.

They wouldn’t be coming from there. They’d be waiting for him outside. The lift doors would open and a gun would go in his face and that would be it. The doors hissed closed just as he jumped toward them and the lift dropped. The familiar lurch in his stomach no longer signalled the long and lazy stroll home. He cursed in the most inventive way his oxygen-starved brain could come up with.

He knew the lifts. He worked on them when they went wrong. Davin wasn’t averse to saving cash so why call in an engineer when you have twenty-something of the most highly skilled engineers on the planet at your fingertips?

Sidney grabbed the metal pole that ran down the rear wall and pulled himself off the floor. A thin steel handrail ran around the centre of the lift and he stood on it, one foot against the back wall and the other on the side. At this height he had to duck to fit, but he could now reach the trap door in the centre of the ceiling. He pushed it open and stuck his head through.

He’d never done this when the lift was active and had a brief moment to wonder whether the Stress-Engines would chop his head off. By the time the thought registered it was far too late, he was already through the hole. But he was still alive so he let out a breath and looked around.

The lift shaft glowed blue, engines humming nicely. The lift was held squarely in the middle, the steel walls beyond the light blurring as they shot down. He nodded, admiring his handiwork. He’d done a good job. Not that Davin had appreciated it.

The plates that jutted from the top of the lift went up three feet or so and caught the energy. Above them, a blue field of light filled the lift shaft. He had a little safety area above the lift. How good were their DNA scanners? There was a chance the Stress-Engine would mess with it. He didn’t see he had any other choice.

He hauled himself through the hole, shoulders protesting, and lay spreadeagled atop the lift. He closed the trapdoor behind him with his feet and lay still. The energy moaned above him, pushing at him, yet somehow beckoning. It was beautiful and made his skin tingle. His hair and skin heated up until he was bathed in sweat and despite the pushing, he wanted nothing more than to stand and immerse himself in the glorious energy.

He got as far as his hands and knees when the lift came to a stop and thumped softly to the ground. The energy faded and he collapsed onto the top of the lift, letting out a huge breath. That was way too close. Although, it woulda been funny to be hiding from the Riders only to commit suicide.

Sidney crawled to the front of the lift and peered over the top of the plate. The doors hissed open and he waited. No one appeared. He waited longer. The doors hissed closed and the lift sat idle. Frown in place, he opened the trap door and lowered himself into the lift.

Sidney pressed himself tight against the wall to one side of the doors and pressed the open button. He leaned forward just enough to peer around the edge of the lift door. Reception was empty, except, of course, for Cyg on the desk. But she was always there. There was nothing like a robot the size of a small car to make you feel welcome.

He slipped out of the lift, eyes fixed on the door. As he passed the old robot there was a whirr and click that made his heart sink.

‘Sidney Harstil, you aren’t supposed to be leaving work at this time and no lunch break has been announced. Please return to your place.’

‘Aww, come on, Cyg, don’t be like that. I’m sick, I need to go home.’

He stared into the robot’s eyes. It would make no difference, but there were rumours these things could read you and Sidney fancied his poker face. Cyg’s huge square head shook from side to side. ‘Sidney, you know that won’t work with me, I— Excuse me.’

The robot’s eyes shuttered for a moment, slices of metal the same drab purple as the rest of him flipping down over them. Seconds later, they flipped up again.

‘Sidney, please return to your place.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t do that.’

‘If you cannot, then I have no choice but to call security. Perhaps the gentlemen coming in now will be willing to help me.’

Cyg’s head turned toward the entrance and Sidney groaned at the two shapes he could see through the frosted glass. Time was up. Sidney ran straight at the front desk, put one hand on it and vaulted straight over. He disappeared from view just as the entry door slide open and the two men strode in.

 

The space around Cyg was oddly empty. He’d imagined reams of plastipaper stacked neatly in boxes. But there was nothing. The back of the reception desk was a blank slate. The only thing there was Cyg, her body huge and sprawling. All four arms moved agitatedly, twitching this way and that. Sidney hadn’t worked on one of these models before, but their power supplies were all in the same place. He threw himself to the floor behind Cyg.

‘Sidney, this is the last chance I will give you…’

Her voice died in a sad little fade out, arms dropping to hang limp beside her body. Into the silence came the steady tramp of the men’s feet as they strode in. Sidney pressed himself against the back of the desk and held his breath.

‘Damned thing’s offline.’

‘Are you surprised? Look at it, older than the building.’

‘How’s the reading?’

‘Lost it just now. Maybe it’s the height difference.’

Sidney’s ears pricked up. That meant they’d come here via ship. And that meant he had a way to escape, fast. Their shoes clicked over to the lift and he clung to his knees until the doors closed. In the silence of reception he heard the hum as the lift rose.

He was up and halfway over the desk before he realised a third man stood beside the door. The man stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, before reaching for his waist. Sidney didn’t wait to see what he was reaching for, barreling shoulder-first into him at full tilt.

They flew back and slammed into the wall. Sidney’s head struck it and he shouted in pain. The guy he’d tackled made a sound like he’d been stuck with something sharp and went limp. Sidney staggered away and looked down at the man. He was horribly thin and wearing all black. He was a Jacker, assuming they were real, which until this moment he’d very much doubted.

He was also unconscious and showing no signs of waking up. Which was bloody lucky. Sidney knelt beside him, checking his belt with shaking hands. He was about to add the crime of stealing from a government agent to his prior, overhearing things you really didn’t want to, but the Jacker would have a Vtab and those things were amazing.

Sure enough, the tablet was contained in a neat pack that hung from the back of his trousers. How it survived being driven into a wall was anyone’s guess, though if you believed the rumours about these things, it would survive a nuclear war. He shivered, grabbed the pad and walked.

He paused at the door, glancing behind him at the prone body. What was he doing? Running away was understandable. He didn’t think they’d do him for that. But he’d just knocked out one of the most lethal and highly-regarded agents in the government and stolen his Vtab. That was probably a jail-able offence.

He shook his head. They weren’t sending him to jail and they didn’t care what he’d done. He was a lowly engineer who’d just heard the world was ending in six months and that the government were running away from it. He was dead. There would be neither questioning or trial. Still, it made things simple and Sidney never minded simple.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at his hands. The shaking wasn’t confined to them, but it was strongest at his extremities. He shoved the Vtab into his jacket pocket for fear of dropping it and gripped his hands together. Time to freak out later.

By the kerb sat possibly one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He’d only seen them from afar, way up in the stacks. Far too high for a prole like him to ever get close to. A bus rattled past overhead and he ducked, hissing and clapping his hand to his pocket. Stupid. Way to look guilty.

The interceptor hung a foot above the ‘crete, all sleek lines and curves. The front end looked like a bullet and the back like a neater version of the sweepers, with just as many engines. Eight exhaust ports in a vehicle about a tenth of the size. He whistled softly and stepped closer.

A ‘friend’ had told him once that government agents never bothered taking their car keys with them because no one dared steal their vehicles. His ‘friend’ had been in one of those vehicles more than once, normally in the back. With his heart in his mouth, Sidney grabbed the handle and pulled.

The door rose, blossoming like one of those plastic flowers you saw in shop fronts now and then. The key was slotted neatly in the centre of the dash and no alarm sounded. With a sound somewhere close to a squeak, Sidney jumped into the interceptor and pulled the door closed closed. He caught a few looks from people passing by. They looked confused.

He smiled as the door clicked shut. The voice that boomed from the speakers beside his head made him jump and nearly wet himself.

‘You have entered a government vehicle illegally. Please get out of the vehicle and wait to be arrested.’

He snorted and examined the controls. Simple stick drive, same as every other ship anywhere. There were more pedals at his feet, but he figured he could get by with the basics. He hit the lifts and almost lost his lunch. The screens burst into life and he watched as he shot straight up past a bus, close enough for the interceptor to rock side to side.

He hammered at the lifts button until it shut off and he hung, somewhere between the taxi flights and the private lanes. He couldn’t stay at this elevation but if he went up that fast any more he was almost guaranteed to hit something. He looked again at the pedals at his feet and realised they were graduated in both directions. That was insane.

How the hell could anyone drive with four pedals that went both directions? He shook his head and squinted, then chose what should be the power. His foot slipped beneath it easily enough and he raised the pedal up a few notches. He flicked the lift button again and rose, slower this time.

He used the stick to navigate up through the private and into the empty space of the government lanes. There was no one above him and he gazed through the screens at what lay below. There was, of course, one more lane above him, but the sweepers wouldn’t be out until dark and that was a good few hours away.

He hit the lift button and hovered, staring at the screens. The Hanger was in one of the grottier parts of town. Most of the scrapers were less than a hundred stories and homes to losers like him who had to live in the lower city. Not that being an engineer in the Hanger was for losers. He’d studied for seven years to get that job and beaten a lot of other applicants on the way. But there was something about being down here he loved.

He turned the ship and stared uptown. The lights intensified as he revolved, like someone was turning up a dimmer. The ads began to appear, huge strips across the sky promising off-world wonders and the best insurance money can buy. Always with the insurance.

The scrapers over there went straight through the layers of smog the sweepers went out every day to destroy. Though of course he now knew that wasn’t the truth. That wasn’t what was happening at all. He wasn’t sure what was, but the sweepers weren’t getting rid of it. The clouds got thicker every year and the government told them without the sweepers, they’d all be wearing oxygen masks. But now he just didn’t know.

The voice had become a background irritant, constantly suggesting he land at the nearest police station and ask to be arrested. It was a wonderfully compelling idea. He’d just stolen an interceptor and was sitting in restricted air space. His next step had to be to kill someone high up in government. Or maybe bomb the out-port, that would go down well.

Where the hell was he going? He had to stay alive, but he also had information the city needed to know. They were all going to die and the government were running out and leaving them to their fate. So he needed someone who could get the info out quick and wouldn’t rat on him. He shrugged his shoulders. Not a clue.

He fiddled with the programs before him, flicking through the options for the interceptor, and soon reached the autopilot. Setting it for cruise, he sat back and pulled the Vtab out of his pocket.

It hummed into life and leapt from his hands. It floated before him, flat and only slightly thicker than plastipaper and he whistled softly. There was so much secret tech on one of these things it was like being given access to the Datahouse and a free pass.

‘Where am I?’

A three dimensional display lit up, showing the ship cruising slowly through the south lower city. It surrounded him with tiny names and lights, each showing him locations and people. He touched one with his finger and it sprung out to form a separate image. It was a picture of a man, short and wearing a black leather waistcoat, spinning slowly in mid air. A quiet voice began to tell him about Estil Scan, a ‘lowlife’ money gatherer for certain mob bosses. It explained his weaknesses, the best time to arrest and/or kill him and why he was being currently left at large.

When the voice finished, it looped back to the beginning. Sidney tapped another of the pictures and a scraper appeared, the forty third floor flashing. The voice began and mingled with the first. He rubbed his head and tried a few commands. ‘Silence’ worked and the voices cut out, replaced with text that scrolled beneath the pictures.

The forty third floor was a safe house for drug dealers, under surveillance but not considered important. Drugs were good money after all, for government as well as everyone else. It was no secret the feds manufactured every drug out there now. It was why the death rate had dropped and the quality had hit the roof. Distribution was a problem, but that was why they had dealers. So long as no one got too cocky, it went like clockwork. That information had come from another of his ‘friends’ and he’d believed that easily enough.

This thing was incredible. He could track down any criminal he liked. More importantly, he could avoid them as well. What he needed was someone with serious heft in the media. He tried searching for that and it worked. The picture on the pad zoomed out until he was one dot among thousands spread across the city.

He tapped one and was introduced to the guy who wrote a hugely popular blog about the place of robots in society. Sidney had actually taken a look at it a few times before he realised it was a slyly-disguised attack on robots, designed to keep its readers scared of them and their potential to take over the world.

He tried some more, finding journalists, owners of everything from ad strips to nightclubs and people who just tweeted too much. But one stuck out, one that made him stop marvelling at how cool the Vtab was and actually pay attention. He shrunk all the others and got the sound back.

‘Heath Nighting, twenty seven, renowned wealthy landowner credited with repairing the damaged reputation of the City Times and returning it to its former glory. Nighting also spends considerable funds on off-world media and controls major news channels on seven of the first-gen colonies. Currently making waves within the City community by being vocally critical of recent legislation on press freedoms.’

It went on, but he’d heard enough. That was a huge reach. He was young, younger than Sidney but had seen enough to be cynical. And he wasn’t scared to speak out. Sidney was about to hit the drive button when he stopped and checked the down-facing screen. The Hanger was far over to one side, a few miles away but it still stood out. It covered so much land.

He’d never thought about it when he worked there. Land was valuable, more so than any other resource, and the Hanger covered ground more than twenty scrapers with their thousands of inhabitants. It had been his life for the last twelve years and in the last hour everything had changed. But somehow he was coping. He was more than coping, he was planning and thinking ahead.

He blinked and looked around the interceptor. This was insane. He was going to be shot out of the sky the moment the Riders came out of the hanger and saw their ship was missing. Insane. He sent the coordinates from the tab into the interceptor brain, his thumb returned to the drive button and he pressed it.

The G’s shoved him back in his seat like a giant hand, smearing his face to one side. He gasped, struggling for breath as his lungs lost about half their capacity. The screens were astonishing, keeping the stuff far below in focus even as the floating lights that marked out the lanes up here went past in a blur.

They reached the upper City in a matter of minutes and he got his feet beneath the right pedals. He didn’t want to go in this fast. He wanted to be prepared if people were waiting for him. And he wanted to fly the ship. He clicked back on the drive and the roar from the engines muted, dropping in pitch and volume.

The stick came alive in his hands as he changed the parameters and the brain brought a read-up on the dash giving him a map of his air lanes. Not that they mattered; he was in an interceptor. He could go anywhere he liked. How did Riders fly around up here without going wild and buzzing people’s windows?

He only just stopped himself doing so as he reached the first scraper. He’d been up here a couple of times, but not for years. It was easy to stare at them from afar and forget just how big everything was in the upper City. The scraper was the size of one of the old soccer pitches and the top was lost in the clouds. He’d heard the interceptors could handle the pollution, but he knew the kind of damage the sweepers took every night going through that stuff and there was no way he was risking it.

He did allow himself one loop of the scraper, peering in through windows that showed him a world he couldn’t begin to imagine. Every room was manned by a robot so natural-looking he had no idea who was human and who was robot. Floating, double sided screens dotted the rooms. More than one pen light traced across the hull as he raced past. They stopped of course, once they realised who it was.

He pushed down on the pedal, upping the speed, and cruised between the scrapers to the business district. This place was something else. The scrapers were just as large but they were so close together he sucked in a breath when he took the ship between them. They were linked by hundreds of short bridges and a few longer ones. It was like driving through a tree, branches blocking his path at every turn.

Traffic wasn’t allowed in here on the lower levels. But the government could go anywhere. He found the scraper he wanted and took the interceptor down. Getting past all the bridges was more fun than it should have been considering the circumstances, but he was happy to avail himself of the docking plate halfway down. It was already heaving with ships of various shapes and sizes and he saw at least one off-world cruiser. They were making them smaller and smaller every day and his professional interest almost made him forget why he was here. Almost.

He dashed across the ‘crete, trying to look like he was supposed to be stepping out of a Rider’s interceptor. His overalls had a vaguely official look and chances were, no one up here had ever seen someone from the Hanger before. He must have looked something close to the part because he made it across without anyone shouting at him

Sidney nipped into the reception area, ignored the desks and went straight for the lifts. A robot tracked him, but it would have registered the ship and was on its best behaviour. He didn’t look at it, but pulled the Vtab out and checked the address, just to help with the impression that he was supposed to be there.

The lift made those back at the Hanger feel positively archaic. They were still using Stress tech but this was several generations on. It was silent and he barely felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he shot into the sky.

He didn’t feel it stop and stood blinking for a moment when the doors slid open. The office beyond was enormous and dominated by a statue the size of a sweeper in the shape of the first off-world colony. It could have looked like a dome with a few dull shapes at the bottom of it, but the statue was enhanced and tiny, incredibly life-like figures roamed the dome, some even floating about in the zero-g tech.

He admired it for a moment before someone cleared their throat in a pointed way and he looked reluctantly across to the desk. Behind it sat a strikingly beautiful woman making no pains to hide her curious and somewhat doubtful stare. There was something so perfect about the line of her jaw that he knew, with a sinking feeling, he was looking at a robot. One glance at her eyes confirmed it. Shame. Still, nice to look at.

‘Can I help you, sir?’

‘Yes, please.’ He tried his darnedest to sound official and not like he spent most of his time on hands and knees hitting bits of metal and swearing. ‘I have an appointment with Heath Nighting.’

‘Is he expecting you, sir?’

‘Please tell him I come with some information he will be very interested in hearing.’ Why hadn’t he thought about this? What did he think was going to happen when he got here? Did he expect one of the youngest media moguls in the city to just invite him in?

‘Is it information that may affect him negatively? Forgive my impudence, only I have spotted your vehicle and the presence of the Vtab in your pocket and am concerned as to whether I should contact his solicitor.’

Sidney took a deep breath, relieved at the ridiculous efficiency of the receptionist. He tried for a bit more authority in his voice. ‘It isn’t, not directly. But it wouldn’t be wise to keep me waiting. The information is highly time-sensitive.’

‘I see.’

The eyelids closed. No dodgy purple paint job and metal slats here. Hers made her look even more beautiful now the dead eyes were no longer visible. He admired the lips that were clearly designed by a man until her eyes opened again. She rose from behind the reception desk and beckoned for him to follow.

Her backside was even more man-focused and he had no problem in maintaining all his focus on it. They left the main room and wound their way through a corridor painted green, with strange shapes covering the walls. He had the strangest feeling it was supposed to be like a forest, but since he’d never seen one, he couldn’t say.

They reached a door set into one of the tree trunks and the receptionist opened it and waved him through. He entered and shoved his hands in his pockets as they began to shake. The room was small and simple, dominated by a mobile desk and picture windows that covered the far wall. Nighting sat in the mobile desk, drifting slowly across the room.

He reached the far wall and pushed off with his foot, coming toward Sidney. He was just bracing himself when the desk hissed and stopped.

‘Nighting, Heath Nighting. A pleasure.’

The out-thrust hand was a good sign. Not many people happy with physical contact these days. The plummmy tones and starting with the surname not so cool. Sidney sniffed and tried to appear unaffected. He shook the hand and nodded and resisted the urge to drop to his knees and retro-engineer the mobile desk.

‘Sidney Harstil. A pleasure to meet you. I liked your recent stuff about press freedom, well said.’

The young man before him frowned and Sidney raised his eyebrows.

‘You don’t sound very much like government.’ Nighting said.

‘No, well, those of us from the Hanger aren’t exactly the sort of people you think of when someone says government.’

‘You work in the Hanger?’

Sidney nodded.

‘And you’ve got that ship?’

‘Well, actually, I stole the ship.’

Heath stood and the desk sunk to the floor. It spilt in half, he stepped forward and it reformed behind him. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Yeah, I’m being hunted actually. I think I’ve got a few minutes on them, tops.’

‘Why the hell did you come to me?’ Heath turned in a circle, holding his hands up like someone had a gun trained on him as he spoke to the hidden cameras. ‘I don’t know this guy, I have no idea why he’s here, I’m sorry.’

‘Oh shut up. I’m going to be killed, probably horribly. I’ve come to you because I think you might have the balls to tell the world the information I’m being hunted for knowing.’

That had an impact. His eyebrows rose and he turned to him. ‘Information?’

‘Thought that would get your attention. Have you heard of the Cleansing?’

‘Of course. Everyone learns about the second fall. But that was hundreds of years ago.’

‘Yeah, well, apparently it’s gonna happen again in about six months.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Yeah, I overheard a spook talking to the guy who runs the hanger. The government are going off-world, starting next week, in prep for it. My boss was being given the chance to join them. I overheard.’

‘This is a joke, I assume. Though you have a long way to go before I find anything funny about it.’

‘No joke. Look, I have to leave before they get here. Or someone else gets here.’

Nighting turned and peered at a screen on his desk. When he turned back to Sidney, he shook his head. ‘Too late for that, there are already Riders at the car.’

Shit, dammit. What the hell was he going to do now? He could go Underneath, but he knew less about that than he did baking. He might go down there and get knifed or buzzed and what was the point in that? But if he stayed up here, he was dead.

‘Does your elevator go all the way to the bottom?’

‘Of course. But you can’t run from them, you know that.’

‘I may as well try. The spook said it was too late for me already. What have I got to lose?’

‘You’re telling the truth.’

‘You’ve just figured it out?’

‘Actually, my Truthseer has just figured it out.’ Nighting flicked a finger to the tall post sticking out of the floor but blending in perfectly with the wall. Seemed like everyone had impressive tech today.

‘Well that’s nice to know. The world’s ending, Nighting, up to you who you tell.’

He dashed out of the door and ran straight into the pretty robot from behind reception. She stiffened as he struck her and he bounced off and hit the floor. She extended a hand.

‘Thanks.’

‘You didn’t intend him harm.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Where is the nearest elevator, please?’

‘Why are you here?’

‘I had information I thought he might like to know.’

‘I see. Let me show you to the elevator. I would politely request however that you restrain from staring at my behind all the way there. It is unbecoming for a man, particularly one wanted by the government.’

He blushed. ‘Why? I mean, you’re a robot, right, so why do you care?’

‘I was a robot. I have been altered recently. I am not entirely cyborg but my change has begun.’

‘They can do that now? I thought a cyborg had to begin human and be enhanced.’

She shook her head, long hair losing its perfect line across the bottom as it flicked back and forth. ‘Cyborg is simply the combination of human and robot. It can be done in any way.’

‘So you’ve been given the bit that gets offended by guys staring at you?’

‘Something like that. Here we are.’ She gestured gracefully to the elevators and Sidney hesitated. ‘Is that why you’re helping me?’

The robot looked at her feet in a surprisingly-human gesture that hid her frightening eyes. ‘The world is coming to an end. That saddens me. Perhaps if you live a little longer, you might find a way to change that.’

He shook his head, snorting. ‘Not a chance. I’m at the end of my plans. Coming here was as far as they went. Now I’m just running.’

The lift doors pinged open and she took his arm and pushed him in. ‘Well in that case, perhaps I just think you deserved a break.’

She turned and swayed away down the corridor. He watched her go, faint smile breaking across his lips. Then the alarm went off, a piercing braying joined by flashing red lights that turned the forest corridor into a scene from a horror movie. He hit the ground button and held his breath till the doors closed.

They could stop the lifts at any moment. He didn’t know why they hadn’t. There seemed to be an element of casualness about his pursuit. Why they hadn’t locked down all the robots he didn’t know either. She should have been immobilised the second they entered the building. Maybe they just wanted the car back. He was just one person and judging by Nighting’s response, no one was going to believe him anyway.

Best then, perhaps, if he kept his mouth shut and found somewhere to hide. The lift hissed to a stop, the rabid descent leaving his ears popping and his stomach in knots. He flattened himself against one wall as the doors slid open. No one.

He was out and running down the corridor as fast as he could. Two hundred floors above him the Riders would be in Nighting’s office, digging around. Would the robot tell them where he’d gone? Not that it mattered, not with the DNA reader. Would Underneath cloud it like the lifts did?

He reached the front door. The robot at the desk looked more like Cyg than the woman upstairs. The commoners worked down here and got the tech to suit their place in society. He sneered and pushed through the door.

It took a moment to decide whether the lift had taken him down town instead of just down. The streets were littered with refuse and opposite the entrance a car lay on its side, hovers torn out the bottom by scavengers. This was no different from where he lived. If anything, it was worse. And there was no one on the street except him.

He dashed away from the building, ducking as something big passed overhead. The light down here was cut out by platforms and paths, so he felt like he was Underneath already, running in and out of shadows. He ran until light broke the monotony of the path ahead and he stepped into it, craning his neck.

Scrapers rose on either side of him like monsters leering down from on high. The sky above was filled with vehicles and light and it all felt a long way away from where he stood. An adboard showed static for a moment before an announcement popped up. The voice boomed out in concert with the words scrolling across the screen.

‘Heath Nighting, editor in chief of the City Times has been found murdered in his office. Police on the scene believe the murder was carried out by known fugitive, Sidney Harstil.’

Sidney’s eyes widened as a picture of him, hundreds of feet tall, appeared on the ad board. It flashed a few times, just for emphasis, before returning to the message. He didn’t hear the rest as his mind span in circles, threatening  to come off the rails completely. They’d killed him. Just because Sidney had spoken to him, they’d killed Nighting. More pictures appeared, of the news guy, or what was left of him, splashed across his office. They’d boosted the red and the blood looked like it would glow in the dark.

Of course they had. They were going to kill him for the info and he’d given it to someone else. It was like HIT, like a plague, that doomed anyone you gave it to. There were HIT terrorists, guys who got themselves infected and spent the weeks they had left to live making out with as many people as possible. All these nightclubs had changed their gun barriers for HIT barriers, scanning people as they came in.

There was no scan for his thoughts though. No way for someone to read what information he had in his head. Not yet anyway.

He crept back into the darkness beneath the overhang and made his way through the upper city. It was quieter here than in the lower city and it took him a few minutes to work out why. Everyone who lived here traveled by car. They had no reason to be at ground level. But there was another reason as well.

Every building he passed was either shuttered or badly lit. Behind the glass sat robots who would look antiquated down in the lower city and doors that clearly hadn’t been used in years. Business was the order of day up here and it never happened lower than the twentieth floor. He hoped that wasn’t entirely true, because he was looking for a very specific business and from what he knew, it was one that happened even lower than the ground.

He knew what to look for. He’d never been there, but everyone knew what to look for. He saw it soon enough. The bases of the scrapers all looked the same, but after a while he began to spot the spare buildings. They sat crammed between scrapers, like they’d sneaked into the gaps and hunkered down. Only the buildings had been there far longer than the scrapers, and they looked it. Some of them were even made of stone and concrete.

Most had normal front doors, but he spotted one whose door was sunken, accessible by a couple of steps that dropped down from street level. He approached it and hesitated. This was what he’d been looking for but it didn’t mean he wanted to go in there.

Underneath.

The word brought shudders and he remembered a hundred times in the hanger, where conversations had drifted in its direction and voices had lowered and eyes become fearful. The guys never liked talking about it. No one liked talking about it, at least, no one he knew. And that was a good thing.

But he was out of options now and he thought he might just be able to find something to keep himself alive a little while longer. He turned the handle and the door swung open. Steps led down, lined on both sides by strings of light bulbs nailed to the walls. Sidney took a deep breath and climbed down them.

 

The silence of the upper city was torn apart by the noise from Underneath. It was like stepping into a traffic lane, people of all sorts rushing in both directions. He stood by the wall, trying to take it all in without looking like a tourist.

The first thing that struck him was the number of off-worlders. Most of them were human-looking, but extra eyes or limbs gave them away. There were others who were from Earth with both, but they always looked fake. The eyes were the same cold orbs that robots wore. Whereas there was no denying the realness of the third one the man who’d just stalked past him had in his forehead.

The next thing he noticed were the guns. Guns weren’t banned, not officially, but everyone knew carrying them made Riders very uncomfortable. And you didn’t want to make Riders uncomfortable. Down here, people wore them like phones, strapped to their belts or slung over their backs. There was some vintages pieces, rifles and such, but for the most part people were packing blasters and Vshots.

Head and hands shaking, Sidney stepped into the flow and let it carry him along. He’d half expected people down here to be scowling and fighting one another, but it felt remarkably calm, once you got used to the noise. The tunnel was lined with bulbs, bright and unforgiving. There were no shadows down here.

He passed a few tunnels, some lit and others not, and he changed his initial assessment. There were plenty of shadows, they were just larger than most. He was carried along until the tunnel spat him out into an enormous cavern. The walls were lined with the fronts of old houses and shops, like a mall, only instead of plastiglass at the top, there was solid rock.

From the centre of the roof hung an enormous chandelier lit with thousands of bulbs. He swallowed as he noticed the figure hanging beneath it. The Rider span slowly on a rope. He squinted, trying, and failing to figure out how long he’d been there.

He lowered his gaze and noticed for the first time the presence of other eyes on him. Most of the buildings had someone outside, a guard gripping some particularly lethal-looking piece of weaponry. Most of them were staring at the crowd, following first this person and then that. A few of them were looking at him. He moved through the press, keeping his eyes on the people around him and cursing quietly at how effectively he’d just communicated his complete naivety.

He had no idea how to find what he wanted. Every building he neared came complete with a guard who glared at everyone. But still, tough-looking men and women ignored them, entering the buildings with a swagger and the clear belief they deserved to be there.

He found a shop that displayed a lot of tech in the window and did a little browsing. There were the usual array of amateur pieces, chopped and hacked together. Interspersed among it all was enough quality to convince him the person inside probably knew what they were doing. The prices ranged from reasonable to extortionate but they matched the items.

He shrugged, took a deep breath and walked past the guard. He heard the man grunt and tried to keep his eyes off the colossal Vrifle he cradled like a baby in arms covered in syntats. The tats were nice, actually, nifty mini-programs that would spring to life when the need arose.

They remained still as he entered the shop and announced his arrival with a loud out-breath. There were a couple of browsers digging around the long benches on either side of the room, but Sidney headed straight for the guy sitting on a stool beside the counter.

‘Help you?’

‘I hope so. I need a DNA blocker.’ He said it quietly, making sure the two guys in the shop didn’t hear, but still the man on the stool hissed and glanced about. He was thin, face looking like he was close to the end. His eyes were sunken into his head and his eyebrows non-existent. His clothes hung from him like funeral rags and Sidney grinned. He recognised a fellow engineer, one who’s job had become an obsession.

Sure enough, as the man slipped down from his stool, the arms on his overalls slid up and the first tat came into view. It was a clumsy rendering of a spanner, but the lines were dark, like they’d just been inked. Why waste time using your hands when you could use energy? He wondered how many tats he had and how many of them looked as dark. From the look of him, this guy was covered in them.

He gave Sidney a furtive gesture and headed through a door at the back of the shop. The door moved aside without the man touching it and Sidney saw the relevant tat glow on his left shoulder. This guy used them for everything. There’d been a couple like him in the Hanger. More efficient than anyone else, but still they got moved along. There was no point employing someone who didn’t have long to live, not once they were addicted.

The drug shops offered help, subsidised by the government, but no one got it. No one wanted to. Once you’d started using syntats it was like being a God. Sidney sighed. He’d got here just in time. The back of the shop looked just like the front, save for the spotless workbench that sat in the centre of the room.

The shop owner leaned against it and folded his arms. ‘You know how much one of these costs?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea. Do you have one?’

‘Might have. Depends how you gonna pay.’

‘How about this?’ Sidney pulled the Vtab from his pocket and held it up.

He kept a good hold of it while he watched the shop keeper’s eyes widen and his mouth open. Sidney nodded in response to the unasked question. ‘Entirely genuine. Something else about this as well. It might just have the whereabouts of every criminal in the entire city on it, with details.’

The shop keeper shook his head and came closer, hands out like he wanted to cradle it the same way his guard outside looked after his weapon.

Sidney pulled the tab to his chest. ‘So, mine’s worth more. What else can you offer me?’

‘Anything in the shop.’ The shop keeper flushed and tried to smile. It was the same sort of smile you got from druggies just before they asked for some credits. He cleared his throat. ‘What else would you want?’

‘I’m being hunted. So maybe something to help me hide.’

The seller cocked his head to one side and looked at the Vtab. ‘Wanna tell me where that came from.’

‘You already know. Either you want it or you don’t.’

‘Can always crack it, I suppose. Fine, you get the DNA blocker and I can offer you a Darkcloak to go with it.’

‘What’s a Darkcloak?’

The man’s eyes lit up and he dug about in the pile behind the workbench. He emerged bearing a small belt pack, maybe the size of a small tablet and handed it to Sidney. ‘Simple stuff, really. Go somewhere dark, switch it on and you go dark too. Only you go infra dark and cellular dark and every other dark you can think of. Very smart stuff.’

‘Are you sure the DNA blocker works?’

The man managed to look affronted while nodding aggressively. ‘Don’t sell anything that don’t work.’

Sidney believed him. You didn’t get that many syntats unless you had a real pride in what you did. There was the chance he was just an addict and would lie to get what he needed, but the excitement at seeing the Vtab told Sidney everything he needed to know.

The shop keeper pulled out the blocker and handed it over. It was a tiny pack, smaller than the Darkcloak and entirely nondescript. Sidney checked them both over, slipped the blocker into his pocket, clipped the cloak to his belt and took one final look at the Vtab. He didn’t need it. He wanted it, but he didn’t need it. It probably provided the Riders with another way to trace him.

He handed it over, trying not to grip it harder as the shop keeper snatched it from him and cradled it to his chest.

‘Pleasure doing business with you.’ The man turned away and reverentially laid the Vtab down. Sidney gave it one last look before leaving the room and wandering out of the shop. He paused in the doorway, surveying the cavern.

Was it busier? Tough to say. He touched both of his new purchases. He felt naked without the Vtab. His link to the Riders was gone. But he felt less of a target. If anyone out here had known what he was carrying, they’d have taken him out without a second thought. Then again, a DNA blocker wasn’t exactly small beans.

He slipped off the front porch and into the press. He was jostled this way and that and found himself struggling to breathe. Sweat beaded on his forehead until he got his feet planted squarely and stood still, letting the people push by and around him, like a rock in a river. Not that he’d ever seen a river.

He took a step and something punched him in the back. He flew forward as the hair on his neck hissed and curled up to nothing. He hit the floor beside a guy dressed in overalls similar to his. The first thing he noticed was the blood streaming down the man’s neck. The second was the piece of glass embedded in the back of his skull.

The man’s eyes stared at him and he waited for him to blink. When he didn’t, the understanding of why sank in and Sidney tried to roll away. He got halfway round before he bumped into something else. What the hell was going on? All he could hear was a high pitched whining, as though he’d been drilling for the last hour without ear defenders. He groaned and rubbed his eyes as he sat up.

The shop was gone. In its place was a smoking ruin, shards of glass and plasticrete tumbling to the floor. Smoke rose to fill the cavern, blocking out the huge chandelier and casting deep shadows, deeper shadows, across the hall. Gouts of flame flared up as Sidney clambered to his feet.

What had the shop keeper said? ‘I can always crack it,’ that was the phrase. Had he tried to crack it? The place was littered with bodies, most of which were beginning to move, pushing aside pieces of rubble as they stood. Sidney shook his head and rubbed his ears as his hearing began to filter back in.

There was shouting, a lot of shouting in fact, but a marked lack of anyone rushing to help anyone else. Those caught in the explosion were getting to their feet and staggering away towards darker areas. Sidney winced at his naivety and flicked on the Darkcloak. An explosion that big would bring attention. That it came from a Vtab almost guaranteed the presence of Riders.

He finally started to move, picking his way through the rubble towards one of the many tunnels. The cavern was almost empty. How had it happened so quickly? His hearing was improving and now he noticed the silence, so different to only moments ago. Another sound intruded, one that belonged down here no more than he did. The distant, but entirely recognisable rumble got him moving even quicker.

He reached one of the tunnels and slipped into the darkness. He looked down at himself and was pleased to see only the vaguest outline of his leg. He turned and it vanished altogether. The shop keeper had been true to his word. Now he was dead. The two people Sidney had visited were both dead. That didn’t bode well, but it also left a twisting feeling in his stomach. He’d run because he didn’t want to die, but instead he’d brought death to others.

The sound was louder now and he looked at the tunnel from which he thought it came. Sure enough, a hover bike roared out and charged straight into the centre of the cavern. The bikes were a recent thing, despite the tech being around for decades. Something to do with getting the balance right, or so he’d heard. The guy riding this one was having no problems with it. It wasn’t surprising considering he was a Rider. Was it one of those he’d dodged at the Hanger or back at the news building?

It didn’t matter, they were all the same. He wished he knew more about them than the same stories everyone else passed around. This guy was flush with confidence, leaping off the bike despite the wobbling back and forth. He headed into the wreckage of the shop and dug through the rubble with his foot. Sidney couldn’t help admiring the outfit. Dull leather that showed off a fighter’s physique and the twin blades strapped to his back. A pair of something hi-tech and very deadly hung from his hips, accompanied by all manner of gadgets.

The smoke had filled the cavern, boiling slowly beneath the roof. Strange lances of light cut through from the chandelier, lighting the Rider into stark contrast one moment and casting him into darkness the next. Sidney covered his mouth, stopping the cough that wanted to explode forth and expose him.

Sidney shrank further back; he had no reason to stay and watch. He turned away and glimpsed from the corner of his eye, three more Riders stalk into the cavern. They fanned out, raising hands in greeting to their bike-riding companion. One of the stories said that Riders work alone, but that was clearly rubbish.

Sidney headed into the darkness. He’d chosen one of the smaller tunnels, one that didn’t bear the bright lights nailed to the walls. Probably far more dangerous, but at least the Riders wouldn’t see him. He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when a slight voice harried him from the darkness ahead.

‘Hey, little man, that’s some nice tech you’re carrying. I’ll be taking it now.’

How he’d come this far tonight without anyone except the Riders threatening him was a mystery, but now it was finally happening, he found himself remarkably calm.

‘Sorry, it’s mine.’

The laugh cut through the darkness and Sidney rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t giving up his tech, not in a million years. The Riders were only a few hundred metres away. The moment he lost his DNA blocker they’d be on him. Footsteps scraped through the black and Sidney flattened himself against the wall, raising his clenched fists.

The light trickled in from sources he couldn’t make out and it was just enough to show the silhouette coming closer. The guy made straight for him and Sidney saw the strange shape of goggles on his head. Guy had night vision.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint, but down here, everything’s mine.’

‘You mean you and everyone else’s, right?’

‘I mean mine.’

The voice loomed close and Sidney took a deep breath. There was a choice here, but his body took it from him. His fist flew before he realised he was going to attack and struck the man across the jaw. He swore, sounding like he was chewing marbles, and staggered across the corridor.

His attacker came back just as fast and a blow caught him in the gut. Sidney bent double, grunting as the air rushed from his lungs. Another blow struck him in chest and somehow Sidney grabbed the wrist before it retreated. He yanked on it and pulled them together. He felt hot breath on his cheek. He slammed his head forward and winced as it struck bone.

Sidney flailed about until his hand settled over the goggles, and he grinned despite the pain settling into his chest. He yanked and they came off in his hands.

‘Give them back, give them back.’

The arrogant tone was gone. His attacker sounded a bit smaller now and maybe scared, but his ears were useless again with the sound of their heavy breathing blocking out anything else. Sidney nodded and pulled the goggles over his head. The corridor burst into life, a strange mix of grey and the burned red and orange of his foe’s body heat.

He was half turned away, hands stretching out into space. His night vision would be shot without the goggles. Sidney stared for a moment at the unprotected back. He could just run. He should just run. But if the Riders came this way and spoke to him, he’d tell them exactly what he’d seen. If he was unconscious, it could have been done by anyone.

Sidney took a deep breath and crept closer. The other man reached the wall of the corridor and span around. Sidney lunged and wrapped his hands around the guy’s head, slamming it back against the wall. The guy gripped his wrists and hauled on them. Sidney bit his lip and slammed his head back again, harder this time.

The guy struggled, kicking his shins and Sidney swore, trying to get out the way without letting go. He slammed the head again and again, squeezing his eyes almost closed, lost in the movement. On the fifth blow, the man’s hands let go of his wrists and banged against the wall. The body grew heavy and he released his hold.

The body sagged against the wall and sank down. He stepped back, chest heaving. His blood thundered in his ears and he only heard the Riders because of the roar of the hoverbike. Sidney ducked and backed away down the passage. Their voices drifted down to him, shouting back and forth.

Minutes ago this was a haven for the lowlife of the city, the one place that was truly safe from the government. Yet in only those few minutes it had changed utterly. The criminals had disappeared and the illusion of their safety shattered. The Riders had moved in.

The goggles showed him nothing but pale grey but he moved with urgency nonetheless. He trailed one hand down the wall, feeling the rough concrete shift and change beneath his hand. It cracked and spilt and was soon mingled with mud. He was drawing near the Tunnelers. Theirs was a world he knew even less about and was happy to remain ignorant of.

He stopped, muttering under his breath, and headed back the way he had come, searching for side tunnels. But the concrete stared back at him and he soon found himself stepping over what he hoped was the unconscious body of his would-be robber. He paused, crouching down and peering out of the end of the tunnel. Nothing.

He took slow, trembling footsteps towards the exit. The smell of smoke made his nose twitch. A flame flared as he neared the cavern, the final remnants of the explosion. He was within ten feet and stopped again, holding his breath. Nothing.

He let out the breath slowly and sneaked into the cavern, keeping to the wall. The place was as silent as the Hanger in the early morning, before the sweepers came in from their flight. The absence of life after so much noise, raised goosebumps down his arms. It was so quiet. It was too quiet. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was already running when the first Rider emerged from the shadows.

He’d been hiding beneath a Darkcloak. Dammit, dammit, how had he been so stupid? His eyes were fixed on the Rider so he didn’t see the next appear before him until something slammed into his chest and he landed hard on his back. Four faces appeared above him, all wearing the tell-tale head sets and mirror shades of the Riders.

‘Well, well. So nice to finally meet you, Mr Harstil.’

‘No it isn’t. If you’re going to disappear me, don’t lie while you’re doing it.’

‘Disappear you?’

‘That’s what you call it, isn’t it? One day I’m here, the next I’m gone. Just disappeared.’

‘Is that what they say?’ The Rider straightened, looking at the others as they all had a jolly good chuckle. He turned back to Sidney, face still and stern once more. ‘That’s such a lovely euphemism. Strange that people are so afraid to say that we just kill people. What do you think disappearing is, if not death followed by a quick trip into the river?’

‘Fine, whatever. Just do it, will you.’

The Rider stepped back and Sidney clamped his teeth together. He wouldn’t scream. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. A hand appeared and he stared at it, forehead creasing as he noticed the open fingers. It made a hurrying motion and he reached out. He was jerked rapidly to his feet. He looked at the four men stood before him and blinked, waiting. They wanted to do it standing up. Fine. He still wouldn’t—

‘We aren’t going to disappear you, Mr Harstil. We have a great deal of work to do in the next few months and we’re always looking for people capable of looking after themselves. You’re only the second person in fifteen years who’s managed to evade us for longer than five minutes. How would you like a job?’

Sidney blinked and waited for the punchline.