Chapter 6: Jade
"I’m starting to worry, Jade. Starting to wonder what’s going on with you."
“You know we grant you your privacy by not peeking in on your streams. But I’m starting to worry, Jade. Starting to wonder what’s going on with you.”
I’m trying to focus on Mrs. Belmont’s words— or rather, her implied threat— but my optics feed is on fire with notifications.
VolcanoWave002: the hell was that
VolcanoWave002: who is nathan cervantes
chocoLuvr4life: she doesnt owe us answers
VolcanoWave002: the fuck she doesnt, i’m paying good cred for premium access
Zzzip! The seam of the black dress Mrs. Belmont bought for me digs into my back, as she does up the zipper in a single efficient stroke.
“Everyone decent back there?” Mr. Belmont asks from the front of the Belmonts’ self-driving car. An AG partition separates him from the two of us, running a promo for the Melee’s opening gala tomorrow night. The ad makes the gears in my mind spin even harder than they were before. The Buzzard’s signed up for the Melee. If I’d known, I would’ve found a way to enlist months ago, even though the few Palisaders who ever considered enlisting have sworn off the Melee entirely, as a way to show solidarity after Wes’s disappearance. Now I’ve got less than twenty-four hours to find a way to meet the Buzzard, before the racers disappear into the training facility and my best chance at finding Wes is gone forever.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Belmont is still berating me. “… that stunt, so close to the opening festivities. This season is hard enough for us as it is.” Her hands are in her lap, and she rubs one thumb over the other, so vigorously I half expect it to gleam from the polishing. By “this season” does she mean the anniversary of her son’s disappearance, or the heavy logistical load she bears for the Melee, as a member of the Consortium?
Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe everyone grieves differently, and Mrs. Belmont has decided that the best thing for her and her family is to put the past behind them and close off this painful chapter so they can start a new one. But for me, Wes is an essential part of my story. I don’t make sense without him. I’m not going to pretend like there’s a future for me if he’s not in it.
“Who is this… Nathan Cervantes you were so intent on finding?” Mr. Belmont’s dark brow is wrinkled with concern as he scans his palm glass.
My body goes still. “No one.”
“No one?” He looks up at me. “According to the transcript of the body cam footage, you were desperate to speak to him. Our records show he’s a racer in this year’s Melee.”
I have to pinch my thigh through the dress’s rough fabric to keep from scowling. I knew—or at least hoped— the Belmonts would honor our longstanding agreement not to access my livestreams, even if they feared for my safety. But I forgot about all of the other ways they could disintegrate my privacy with a wave of their hands.
I could tell them, I know. About the note on Wes’s clothes, and the growing feeling in my gut that he’s still alive, and that the Buzzard knows where he is. This would be the time to reveal everything and ask for their help.
But when I look at Mrs. Belmont, she’s barely there. She may be looking at me like I’m a spider in her meal replacement shake, but I can tell her mind is on the palm glass in her handbag. On work.
She’s already moved on, and she doesn’t deserve to be my partner in this. When I find Wes, it’s going to be my victory. Not hers.
“It was a silly hope,” I say, making my voice as light and frail as possible. “I just picked a random Melee contestant. I thought I could bribe Nathan Cervantes to go to the part of the course where Wes was last seen. Try to find the missing camera drone, so we can see Wes’s final moments.”
Jadeandwes4ever: oh jade
SilverMommy94[AG]: poor babygirl. wish i could give her a hug right now
chocoLuvr4life: @VolcanoWave002, told u she’d have a good explanation
Mrs. Belmont’s face falls. “Oh, sweetheart. I miss him, too. I always will.” She covers my hand with her own, and her palm is a frozen rose petal against my skin. “But we mustn’t remember him that way. Alone. In pain. That’s why we have the Oracles. They’re helping us keep Wes in our hearts, the way he’s meant to be.” She gives me a watery smile. The Belmonts’ palm glasses both chirp at the same time. Mrs. Belmont sucks her teeth in annoyance at whatever message is displayed there, but when she pulls her hand from mine and begins furiously typing, I know she’s grateful for the reprieve.
I lean my head against the cool window, watching the sun come up over the sparkling city. My chat starts buzzing:
AmberEnchantress99: is that the great fault bridge coming up?
CharlieFitzW: lol last night j was under it, now we’re driving over it
VolcanoWave002: jade, look out the window, let us see the fault!
I smile to myself. I may have failed at my own mission and gotten Wes’s parents thoroughly pissed at me, but I can at least make my followers happy. I turn my head so my view includes the giant canyon under the bridge, and the glittering blue gems deep within: Phosphora, the mineral power source that makes the Veil and all of our AG constructs possible.
My mom says that when the massive earthquake happened forty years ago, everyone thought it was a sign of the end. From what I’ve heard about that time, I don’t blame them. There was global war on every continent, environmental disasters everywhere you turned. Violence and corruption, and a growing sense that humanity had reached the end of the line. My mom said she remembers being told as a kid that her generation was going to make the world a better place.
By the time she was a teenager, nobody was saying that anymore.
Then the quake happened, ripping a scar down the center of Las Vegas. No one was even calling it Vegas anymore… no one was even calling it the United States anymore. The country had devolved into loose federations run by citizen militias. The economy had collapsed. Everyone expected disaster. But what they got was a miracle. The earthquake opened up the Fault, an enormous canyon that contained a previously-undiscovered mineral compound.
They called it ‘phosphora’, because of its ethereal blue light.
A new energy source, more efficient than anything the earth had belched up before. Phosphora powers our homes, our vehicles. But more important than any of that, it’s enabled a giant leap forward in alternatively generated content, fueling the processors that keep New Palisades churning while the rest of the country burns. Phosphora and the AG technology that it powers gave us a livelihood again. Gave us beauty again. Gave us hope again.
And those ignorant Bounders want to tear it all down. But at least they’re good for one thing:
rainyTomato182: damn, look at all the mining bounders down there. are they even strapped in? how do they not fall and die?
CharlieFitzW: they do bro, all the time lol
rainyTomato182: oops rip haha
zzzIHeartJadezzz: streets in NP are so clean
zzzIHeartJadezzz: wish we had sweeper bots in St. Petersburg
UrMomSaysHi99: ha. maybe figure out your heat wave problem first
zzzIHeartJadezzz: how dare u. people r dying
“Is it alright if we stop at the Consortium complex first?” Mrs. Belmont asks me, still typing away at her glass with iridescent coffin-shaped nails. “Sterling and I need to handle some things before tomorrow’s events begin. The car can take you home afterward.”
I look at her, then out the window as the car slows outside the complex of towering skyscrapers. Clearly the question’s nothing but a courtesy; she’d already changed the car’s route the second that message came in.
“That’s alright,” I say with a smile. “I like walking around the complex. Besides, I feel like I should be around people right now.”
“That’s lovely, Jade.” Mrs. Belmont’s perfect teeth gleam brighter than the chrome buildings outside. And why shouldn’t they? The Consortium complex has more security cameras than anywhere else under the Veil. They’ll be able to track my every move, which I’m fine with. I don’t need to leave New Palisades for the next part of my plan to work.
I just need to find Jasper.
❖
The outside of the complex’s Media and Entertainment building is a chrome tower indistinguishable from the others. But the inside is a masterpiece, an explosion of color that feels like walking into a work of art. Every step I take creates a ripple of neon, which radiates out until it collides with the impact of someone else’s steps. Animated portrait screens as tall as I am hang on the walls of the building’s vaulted atrium. The portraits are prime promotional real estate, typically programmed for a variety of goods and services. But, of course, today there’s only one event worth advertising:
Degas’ two dancers make bets on how many deaths in the Melee will be due to weapons versus heat exhaustion, then recite the slogan for a gambling site in perfect syncronicity.
A glowing Lord Vishnu encourages me to stock up on my favorite salty snacks to watch the race, as he holds a different variety of potato chip in each of his four hands.
And finally, the Mona Lisa reminds me to tune into her post-show podcast, where she’ll break down all of the Melee gala coverage.
I nod at each of the ads, for the benefit of the security cameras I know are watching. But I don’t need these commercials; with any luck, I’ll be a part of the coverage myself.
After passing through the atrium, I step into the elevator that will take me up to the skyscraper’s rooftop terrace, past the floors upon floors of computer labs filled with the city’s best artists. For a moment, I remember the brief seconds last night when the veneer vanished and we slipped into the same broken ugliness as the Boundary, and a shiver rolls down my spine. The AG artists’ ingenious prompts and refinements help fill New Palisades with beauty, and I’ve never been more grateful.
Jasper’s stepmom, Petra La Fontaine, is the head of advertising for MindShroud, one of the biggest media companies in New Palisades. I’m sure she’s running around somewhere in this building like a bot with its head cut off, fretting about all of the commercial spots for the Melee coverage with barely a second for lunch. But Mrs. La Fontaine’s loss is my gain, because here Jasper is at the rooftop cafeteria, using his mom’s company card to stuff his face with all the macros his heart desires. I push through the early lunch crowd and find him seated alone at a table near the rooftop garden, tearing into one of three grilled chicken breasts on his plate. When he spots me, his eyes light up.
“Jade! Back from your adventure so soon?”
Geez, news travels fast around here. But I stay in control, mirroring Jasper’s smirk. “Couldn’t stay away too long.” I glance past him, to the glittery purple roses bobbing in the artificial breeze. Wes brought me a bouquet of those on our second date. I still have the petals from one of them pressed in a journal in my room.
I’m going to find you, Wes.
“Jade?” Jasper’s voice snaps me back to attention.
“Sorry,” I say. “How was the, uh, holo-concert?”
“Deluxe,” he says. “Anne Boleyn took her top off. And then…” He trails off.
“And then?”
Jasper pushes his plates back and steeples his fingers, eying me carefully. “You want something,” he says. “Don’t play coy. We’ve been friends a long time; I know your tells.”
I swallow. “My tells?”
“You’re looking through me, not at me. Like you’re trying to hold on to whatever it is you really want to say, once we’re done shooting the shit.”
WaveRiderStgo: bro is ripped, and smart, too? I wanna give this guy a high five
MariefromParis923: if I say what I want to give him, the mods will kick me out
I debate feigning ignorance, but we’re wasting time. “Have you ever thought joining the Melee?”
He laughs openly. “Okay, that I did not expect. You, of all people, are asking me this? Tell me more.” He gestures to the chair opposite him.
“I’ve been thinking, is all.” I pause as I sit, remembering the explanation I crafted silently in the Belmonts’ car. “When Palisaders bowed out of the Melee, we sent the message that the Bounders could scare us away from something, if they showed enough strength. When has that ever been true? This city is ours. The Melee is ours. We need to reclaim it.”
“And you think I’m the one to do that.”
“Why not? You’re in… decent shape, I guess.” Jasper opens his mouth in mock offense, and I wink at him. “And you’d have an advantage no one’s ever had before.”
“Which is?”
This is it. Sell it. “Me.” I hold his gaze, doing my best to project confidence in this plan I thought up less than an hour ago. “As an extra ‘fuck you’ to the Bounders, I’m willing to join you as a media embed. I’ll show your side of the story— our side. Plus, with the extra coverage you’ll be lining up sponsorships and promo deals before the race even starts. You’ll be a star, whether you win or lose… not that you’ll lose.”
“Damn straight,” Jasper says around a mouthful of chicken. “There’s one problem, though: Spots are already claimed. The opening gala literally starts tomorrow. It’s too late, J.”
“Not for you.” I quirk a brow, then lean in and whisper conspiratorially. “Everyone knows your stepmom’s screwing the Race Commissioner.”
Jasper gives me an amused smile. “Truly the worst kept secret in New Palisades. You’d think the woman would’ve learned some tact. Believe me, I tried to warn her. But the heart wants what it wants.”
“I suppose it does,” I say wryly. He’s almost there. I can see the dominoes falling in his mind. A simple yes, plus a couple of weeks roughing it in the desert, equals a lifetime of fame. “So what do you say?” I ask.
Jasper purses his lips. “Hm. Can I bring the boys?” He gestures across the terrace with his chin. I turn, looking across the roof to the buffet line, and see Slate and Sledge, the brawny dark-haired twins that have been Jasper’s yes men since before their voices dropped.
“Fine by me,” I say. As long as they keep their hands off the Buzzard, what do I care if tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum tag along?
Jasper slides his finger back and forth along the blunt edge of his steak knife, thinking. Then he carves a piece off of the chicken.
“Alright then, I’ll talk to Petra.” He tips the chicken toward me before taking a bite. “Let’s make history.”
And with those three words, my follower count explodes. I can barely even see Jasper’s face, there are so many messages flying by.
VolcanoWave002: oh this is gonna be SICK
VolcanoWave002: we’re going to the fucking MELEE??
CharlieFitzW: tbh i wasnt planning to tune in but i sure as shit am now
Thousands of followers decide to gift me with confetti at the same time, blinding me to the rooftop terrace entirely.
“Uh oh,” Jasper says. “You’ve got company.”
I turn to see what he’s looking at, adjusting the confetti’s transparency. Across the roof, Mrs. Belmont has just burst out of the elevator, clutching her palm glass so tightly, I think she might crack it in half. Looks like she finally broke her promise about not watching my livestreams.
And I couldn’t care less.
With a single two-minute conversation, I’ve brought more viewers to the race than the Consortium could ever dream of. They’d be idiots to deny my and Jasper’s plan now, and risk a boycott by my followers. So what if Mrs. Belmont watched my stream? She can watch all she wants, along with my one million new best friends, and climbing.
They’ve all got a front row seat to the Melee.
🔥👀