Rook Winters - Weight of Ashes

“That must be the right one,” Britt said. Elle was sure she heard excitement in the older woman’s voice.

Elle swiped and tapped. The screen showed an outline of the suit with red dots. As she swiped, a different dot would pulse from light to dark. When she tapped, a box appeared with details about a feature.

“I don’t understand,” she said as she selected the last pulsing dot. “The tour’s a dead end.”

Elle tapped to clear the final pop up and a red dot appeared next to the helmet on the screen. She selected the new dot. The box that appeared asked a question.

What is your designation? -CD

There was no obvious way to enter an answer—no on-screen keyboard display, no buttons or menus she could select. But she was on the right path. CD for Clint Donovan. The answer was her designation from Aldebaran, the dehumanizing identification number they’d given her. One higher than the person before. One less than the person who’d come after.

“I found something but I don’t understand how to continue.”

The background color of the screen switched to red, and a message appeared along the bottom.

Incorrect or invalid response.

It’s voice controlled , she thought.

“L37,” she whispered.

The background of the screen flashed green, and the message changed again.

“Compartment open,” she read. “It says a compartment is open. Does anyone see a compartment?”

“Yes, we see it.” This time the excitement in Britt’s voice was undeniable. “Wonderful work, Elle. Just stay still for a moment while we look.”

She felt people brushing up against her and the screen snapped back to its original display.

Elle removed the helmet, and Britt showed her a foam block, no bigger than a fingernail, in which a miniature capsule was embedded.

“Another data vault,” Elle said. “Isn’t it? It looks just like the scans from Dr. Donovan’s leg.”

Britt turned the block over in her palm and showed Elle the bottom on which “A2” was hand-written in silver.

“Do you have a way to read the data?” Elle asked.

“I have no idea,” Britt said. “I don’t even know what this is.”

“There was an Aldebaran data vault embedded in Dr. Donovan’s bone when he died. Marsh found someone who could read it. This might be the same thing.”

“Give it to me,” Ursula said.

Britt cocked her head to the side and considered Ursula for a moment. They didn’t know each other, not really. But people she trusted trusted Ursula. That would have to be good enough. She dropped the foam block into the open palm of the younger woman.

Ursula looked through the collection of devices on the table until she found one that seemed to satisfy her. It was a mid-size tablet, maybe nine or ten inches along the diagonal. When Ursula turned it on, a stylized letter A glowed on the screen.

Britt recognized it as the Aldebaran logo.

“Is that—” she started to ask.

Ursula interrupted her. “An Aldebaran tablet, yes. Someone bartered it for old university equipment. It’s not connected to the network and no wireless signals can get out of this room. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”

“Why do you have it?” Bear asked.

“I just told you.”

“I mean why do you personally have it. In fact, why do you have so many tablets and devices here?”

“It’s a complicated story but the short version is that Maud upstairs runs what’s left of the university. She has a lot of discretion over what gets sold off and what constitutes valid payment. Occasionally, she accepts barters and I take them from her as wages instead of qynars. It’s a convenient way to accumulate some much needed tech discreetly.”

“Much needed for what?” Wilm asked. “And how do you eat if you keep taking tablets instead of money?”

Ursula gave Britt a confused look.

“I didn’t tell them anything about your operation.”

“Wow, you all are a trusting bunch to come here blind.”

“We trust Britt,” Bear said.

“Well, let’s just say that running security here isn’t my main source of income and the tech comes in handy. Such as right now.”

She set the foam block on the bottom of the tablet with the data vault facing down. The tablet screen came to life.

“It wants a password.”

Britt saw from the looks on Elle’s and Court’s faces that they didn’t have the password, or at least didn’t know that they had it.

“Well?” Ursula asked.

“We don’t know,” Elle said.

“The first data vault needed the lyrics to an entire song to get into it.”

“Try L37,” Elle said. “That was how I unlocked the suit.”

Ursula tried it but the tablet screen flashed red and displayed a new message: Failed attempt 1 of 5. After 5 failed attempts, the vault will lock for 24 hours. Hint: Stickiest place for a concert.

“What’s L37?” Court asked.

“Let’s talk about it later.”

Britt could see in the girl’s face that a lot of secrets were hidden behind that deferral. She wondered if it was obvious to Court. She didn’t get the impression that these two knew each other all that well considering what they’d been through together.

“Only four more guesses,” Ursula said. “Anyone know the stickiest place for a concert?”

Britt laughed and warm memories bubbled up, memories from a happier time, before life got complicated—memories of cold beers on sidewalk patios during humid summer evenings; the smell of greasy food, everything fried, golden, delicious, bad for everyone’s health; and the laughter, which was most definitely good for their health.

“The Horseshoe Tavern,” she said. “I haven’t thought of that place in ages. It’s not even very far from here, or it used to be. It must be long closed by now.”

Watching over Ursula’s shoulder, Wilm said, “That worked.”

Bear and Wilm squeezed against Britt’s left side while Elle and Court pressed in on her right, everyone trying to get a look at what secrets the data vault revealed.

Ursula snapped at them. “Alright, everyone just back up a step. Personal boundaries, people. Ever heard of them?” She slid her seat back and offered it to Britt. “Here, you can drive.”

A wordless look from Elle told Britt that she approved.

It took a minute for Britt to orient herself with the structure of the data vault’s contents, but she found a partition labeled NORA, and in that partition was a video titled Nora Overview.

Elle gasped when Clint’s face appeared on the screen.

“Nora, greetings my dear friend. It has been far too long. I’ve been telling myself for years that I should come visit you, but I don’t need to tell you how hard that type of travel is these days. And now, if you’re watching this video, it means something has happened to me and it’s too late.”

He hesitated for a few seconds, presumably to keep his emotions from getting away from him. Britt felt a tingle in her left eye, an early warning sign of her own tears threatening to spill out without much further provocation. Britt preferred to maintain a strong facade, so she was relieved when Clint jumped straight to the point.

“But there are bigger issues at play. The Qyntarak are moving to strip humanity of our remaining freedoms and many of our rights. I have cultivated friendships and forged alliances with a number of influential Qyntarak who oppose these changes. This data vault contains interview notes, transcripts of Qyntarak leadership meetings, and drafts of legislation going before the Akarrak. The end result is bleak.

“The new laws will allow for ownership of humans, which I realize is not a new idea on our planet. In the latest proposals I’ve seen, creditors would be allowed to make a claim for the offspring of a debtor if an adjudicator rules that the debtor’s lifetime earning potential makes them a high risk for default.