It was a foggy December, colder than usual.
An old woman waded through the shallows of a concrete-bound river. She wore overalls and a breather mask, a meshwork hopper slung over her back. She leaned hard on two sticks, one with a grabber on the end, the other a net. At intervals, she scooped some grey, slimy clump from the river and deposited it in the hopper.
Advertisement
Dusk was falling as the woman paused for breath. She rested on the sticks and took off her mask. She gazed at the fog-shrouded stratoscrapers rising either side of the river, searching their mirrored facades. Lights were coming on, yellow rectangles against the colourless grid. Occasionally, a human silhouette appeared behind the glass, an anthracite statue looking out. They rarely looked down.
Big yellow taxis sped overhead, shuttling between the upper levels. Drones zigzagged on repeating errands, stitching fading, angular lines into the clouds and fog. Periodically, a larger one descended all the way to the river, collecting a loaded hopper and depositing an empty one in its place.
Lottie had been working the salvage contract for a week. It paid poorly and the conditions were terrible, but she just needed to stick it out a little longer, banking enough credits to reconnect with her daughter.
Just a couple more weeks, then Lottie would be with Amelia again.
It was all going well until the newcomer arrived, climbing down one of the rusting ladders hooked over the raised lip of the flood defence.
Lottie waded over, keen to spike this misunderstanding.
鈥淗ey, friend,鈥 she said, pulling her mask aside. 鈥淲elcome to the river. But I think you鈥檝e got the wrong sector.鈥
The figure entered a boot at a time then turned. Her mask dangled from its straps. She was a much younger woman, shorter and leaner than Lottie. She possessed a sharp, feral face, two close-set eyes like double-tapped bullet holes.
鈥淪ay what?鈥
鈥淚 said this isn鈥檛 your sector.鈥 Lottie nodded agreeably in either direction. 鈥淛ust check with Global. Any help needed, come find me.鈥
The woman tightened her hopper straps, squaring bony shoulders against the coming load. 鈥淭hink I got the right sector, mama. Sure you haven鈥檛 made a mistake yourself?鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 pretty sure they鈥檇 have told me if there was a problem.鈥
鈥淭he problem is you weren鈥檛 getting through the assignment quick enough.鈥 The young woman 鈥 she was 20 at the most 鈥 shrugged unconcernedly. 鈥淏ut you鈥檙e OK. They鈥檙e not taking you off the job just yet.鈥
Lottie bristled. 鈥淛ust as long as we keep out of each other鈥檚 hair.鈥
鈥淲here鈥檝e you swept?鈥
鈥淵ou saw the direction I was working in. Figure it out for yourself.鈥
鈥淎nd a warm welcome to you too.鈥 She made a mocking salute before fixing the mask. 鈥淗ave a nice life, mama.鈥
She waded off, making quick progress through the boot-sucking shallows. She sang something, some refrain filtering through the mask, some words about Christmas and cutting down trees.
#
They avoided each other for a couple of days. The river swung a kink through the canyon of stratoscrapers, the other woman usually out of sight.
Lottie was just starting to think that she could deal with this arrangement when the newcomer came wading purposefully in her direction.
Lottie leaned in on her sticks, lifting her chin pugnaciously.
The woman removed her breather when they were close enough to speak. She held up her grabber.
鈥淵ou know how to fix one of these?鈥
Lottie glanced at it with cursory interest. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 your problem?鈥
鈥淚t鈥檚 jammed.鈥
鈥淐all in for a new one.鈥
鈥淭hat鈥檒l mean time when I鈥檓 not earning creds. I thought maybe鈥︹
Lottie grunted. She made a terse, bad-tempered gesture. 鈥淏ring it over.鈥
The woman waded nearer. She looked tired, shrunken-in on herself, as if the river had taken its toll in just these few short days.
鈥淚 just thought maybe鈥︹
鈥淥ld mama could fix it.鈥 Lottie took the jammed grabber. She took off a glove, instructed the woman to hold it while she used her nails to pop open a seam. 鈥淟ike this,鈥 she said, exposing the innards. 鈥淲atch carefully because I鈥檓 not showing you twice.鈥
She freed up the mechanism, worked the grabber a few times, fixed the cover back into place.
The woman took the grabber, passing Lottie her glove. 鈥淭hanks鈥 I guess.鈥
鈥淚t鈥檚 nothing.鈥
They stood there in silence for a few moments. Yellow machines zipped overhead. The buildings stood severely truncated by the fog, only their elephantine foot-slopes rising from empty plazas.
鈥淏lue,鈥 the woman said.
鈥淏lue what?鈥
鈥淚t鈥檚 my name. Blue.鈥
Lottie nodded slowly, some part of her certain that the best thing was to say nothing, to turn away and carry on with her work.
鈥淟辞迟迟颈别.鈥
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 mean to tread on your turf.鈥
鈥淪o long as you keep a few markers up or downstream, you won鈥檛 be.鈥
After another silence, Blue said: 鈥淲on鈥檛 be here too long, anyway. I just need a few more creds for the Up And Out.鈥 She nodded into the clouds.
Lottie made no effort to mask her scorn. 鈥淵ou think it鈥檒l be any different up there?鈥
鈥淚t鈥檒l be something.鈥 Blue鈥檚 dark, close-set eyes examined her searchingly. 鈥淚 just need a change. What about you?鈥
鈥淢e? I鈥檓 here because I love wading through sick rivers in winter, collecting junk.鈥
鈥淕uess we should be grateful.鈥
Lottie blinked. 鈥淕rateful?鈥
鈥淭hat we still have a use. What I hear, this is about the last thing robots can鈥檛 do for themselves.鈥
Lottie had heard the same thing. Robots could sort the junk, clean and grade it, recycle it back into more robots, more drones, more telepresence proxies, but the one thing they were bad at was getting the junk out of the river in the first place. They got stuck, becoming more junk in the process.
So for the moment 鈥 until the cost/benefit equation tipped minutely in the other direction 鈥 it was cheaper and easier to employ humans.
鈥淵ou noticed many drones falling into the river lately?鈥 Lottie asked.
Blue gave her a blank look. 鈥淚鈥檓 supposed to?鈥
鈥淭hey鈥檙e getting more reliable. Things don鈥檛 drop out of the sky very often. What they鈥檙e paying us to fish out 鈥 it鈥檚 a non-renewable resource, the way coal and oil used to be. Once we鈥檙e done with this sweep, there won鈥檛 be much more work down here.鈥
鈥淭hey鈥檒l find something else. My friend used to say, there鈥檚 no bottom to the food chain.鈥 Blue gave an easy shrug. 鈥淎nyway, I鈥檒l be elsewhere.鈥
鈥淲ell, good luck with that.鈥
Annoyance pinched Blue鈥檚 colourless features. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e so wise, how come you鈥檙e stuck down here doing the same job as me?鈥 She planted her hands on her hips. 鈥淵ou鈥檝e got a plan, right? Some point to those creds?鈥
鈥淚鈥檝e got a plan,鈥 Lottie said.
#
Of course it had been a mistake, exchanging names. Now Blue seemed to feel the need to shoot the breeze at least once a day. Lottie went along, guardedly. They fell into an unspoken arrangement, climbing out of the water when their hoppers were ready for collection, sitting on the bank not too far apart, legs over the edge, boots dripping back into the water, waiting for the drones to swoop in.
鈥淗ow was your haul?鈥 Blue asked.
鈥淔ine.鈥 Lottie brooded for a few seconds. 鈥淎nd yours?鈥
Blue rubbed a hand under her nose. 鈥淗ad better. Hard to pick out the good stuff, sometimes. If I throw back the low-grade waste, I鈥檒l just end up scooping it up again.鈥
鈥淵ou can鈥檛 really win, you know that? The best you can hope for is not to get screwed too hard, too quickly.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 all right. Another 800, then I鈥檓 out of here. One-way ticket on the slev to Quito, maybe enough left over for some of those neural mods.鈥 She showed Lottie her credit card, the tally glowing in snowy digits.
鈥淵ou might make that in a week, maybe two, nothing goes wrong.鈥
鈥淲hat I鈥檓 counting on.鈥 Blue hummed to herself, rubbing absently at raw-rimmed eyes.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 that thing you keep singing to yourself?鈥
鈥淵ou really want to know?鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 the one has to listen to it.鈥
鈥淪ome music my mother used to play me. Some song about Christmas coming on and cutting down trees.鈥 She hummed a little more. 鈥淪omething about river, and skating away. Or wanting to.鈥 She dipped her face, some shadow of sadness passing across it. 鈥淚t鈥檚 nothing. Stupid song, anyway. It鈥檚 cold here, but it鈥檒l never get cold enough for the river to freeze.鈥
Lottie reflected quietly before answering. The light was sullen, advertising banners pushing through jackdaw clouds, scribbles and flickers of nervous yellow.
鈥淵our mother鈥檚 up there? Is that why you want to take the Up And Out?鈥
Blue sniffed again. 鈥淣o, she鈥檚 long gone.鈥 She jammed defiance into her voice. 鈥淏ut I remember her. I always will, and that stupid damned song.鈥
Lottie dug into one of her waterproof pockets and came out with a little squeeze-tube. 鈥淭he river鈥檚 getting to your sinuses. Smear this around your nostrils. Make sure that breather鈥檚 fitting properly, too.鈥
Blue accepted the tube. She squeezed a small dab of the grey gel onto her fingertips. 鈥淭hank you.鈥
鈥淒on鈥檛 want you getting sick on me. They might send someone worse.鈥
#
Despite herself, Lottie came to appreciate these minor interludes of human contact. It was an unsettling epiphany, as if she had become a traitor to the cooler part of herself.
鈥淚 hope you make those creds,鈥 she said, a couple of days on. 鈥淲hatever you do, though, promise you won鈥檛 blow a single one of them on neural mods.鈥
鈥淭hat you speaking from experience?鈥
鈥淚 had retinal degeneration. A congenital condition. Back when I had money, I stumped for Chromeguard implants. Full vision restoration.鈥
Blue looked at her curiously. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a downside?鈥
鈥淐hromeguard were bought out. The new firm had a different subscription model. I couldn鈥檛 make the regular payments.鈥 She paused, shuffling on the bank as the concrete chilled her bones. 鈥淚 mean, I could, but only at the expense of something else.鈥 She mulled the yellow-flecked fog. 鈥淲hat happens is that they turn off the receptors one by one, taking away your colour perception.鈥
A frown notched Blue鈥檚 brow. 鈥淪o the world is鈥 what?鈥
鈥淢ostly monochrome,鈥 Lottie said. 鈥淢ostly shades of grey.鈥
#
They worked to their different rhythms, Lottie slow and discriminating, Blue quicker but not so careful, but the two of them always finding time to sit and talk while the drones came in.
鈥淲hat was your mother doing listening to music from a hundred years ago?鈥
鈥淪he was weird. She didn鈥檛 really belong in this century.鈥
Lottie chuckled quietly. 鈥淚鈥檓 not sure any of us do.鈥
鈥淪he was cool, though. She wanted more for me than this. More than just being at the bottom of the heap. I鈥檒l turn things around, though.鈥 Blue raised her eyes to the sky again. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a life for me out there. It might not be perfect, but it鈥檒l be closer to the one she had in mind.鈥
鈥淚 hope you make it. Be sure to send me a postcard.鈥
鈥淎 what?鈥
鈥淛ust send me a message, tell me how you鈥檙e doing.鈥 Lottie sat silently for a few long moments. She felt on the brink of something dizzying, as if the drop to the water had become a thousand vertical metres. 鈥淚 had a daughter once. Her name was Amelia. She鈥檚 lost to me now.鈥
Blue took her time answering. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 talk?鈥
鈥淪he鈥檚 dead. One of those mid-century 鈥榙emics they probably taught you about in school. When I say lost, I mean I can鈥檛 reach my memories of her.鈥
鈥淲hat happened to them?鈥
鈥淭hey鈥檙e paywalled.鈥
鈥淚 don鈥檛 understand.鈥
鈥淭he company was called Mnemonic Gate. Neuroprosthetic memory storage and retrieval services. They put something in you, deep in the hippocampus.鈥
鈥淭here was something wrong with you, like the eye thing?鈥
鈥淣o. They put it in me because my employer insisted on it, a condition of work. That wasn鈥檛 uncommon. Mnemonic Gate was an offshoot of Cloud9, and Cloud9 was part of Omniserve, and Omniserve was basically running the world. They said jump, you said how high.鈥
鈥淎ll right. Pretty sucky. I guess you had Omniserve, we have DEUS and Gladius Biomech and Global Workspace. What went wrong?鈥
鈥淎nother case of buy-outs and mergers and changing terms. Suddenly I ended up having to pay to maintain Mnemonic Gate 鈥榣egacy services鈥.鈥 Lottie gave a morbid little laugh. 鈥淚f I didn鈥檛 cough up, my own memories stayed locked away. Including the entire part of my life with Amelia.鈥
Blue sat still. A slow rage formed on her face. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 not right.鈥
鈥淚t isn鈥檛, but what could I do? For a while, I managed the payments, managed to hold onto Amelia. But I was running just to stand still. I couldn鈥檛 meet the rising fees, so I lost her again. A second death, but worse than the first because this time it was my failing, not the fault of some damned virus.鈥
鈥淚t wasn鈥檛 your failing!鈥 Blue said fiercely.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 what I tell myself, but it doesn鈥檛 always work. Especially around this time of year. She liked Christmas. It gets raw. Same thing happens each time: I make one last bid to raise enough to buy back my memories, take on whatever work I can find.鈥
Blue nodded forlornly. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what it鈥檚 about for you, then. Trying to earn enough creds to own the thing that already belongs to you.鈥 She snarled. 鈥淪crew them! Screw DEUS, screw Global Workspace, screw Omniserve!鈥
Lottie smiled. 鈥淚 got angry too. It fades, eventually. There鈥檚 no point being angry. You can鈥檛 stay like that all the time.鈥
鈥淵ou have to earn those creds,鈥 Blue said with sudden conviction. 鈥淗ow short are you?鈥 She made a motion toward her own card.
鈥淣o,鈥 Lottie said firmly. 鈥淲e鈥檙e not doing that. Besides, I鈥檓 way off. And even if I was close, I鈥檇 still have to make a choice. My world isn鈥檛 totally monochrome. I kept up the payments on yellow.鈥
鈥渊别濒濒辞飞?鈥
鈥淚t was Amelia鈥檚 favourite colour. Yellow Christmas lights, her yellow bicycle, yellow crayons, her first dress. These things I remember. The colour, her favourite ice cream, the sound of her shoes on the hall, the smell of her. It鈥檚 secondary, though 鈥 a whole suite of peripheral feelings, with the centre gone. Like a galaxy of yellow stars with a vast black hole at the middle.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry,鈥 Blue said quietly. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l get her back one day, won鈥檛 you? You鈥檒l find a way to make those payments?鈥
鈥淭hat鈥檚 the plan,鈥 Lottie said flatly. 鈥淕ot to have a plan, right?鈥
#
It all became clear in retrospect, hours after the bad thing itself. Blue stopped work suddenly and came wading over to Lottie, ghost-faced and shivering.
鈥淲hat?鈥 Lottie asked concernedly.
鈥淭hey鈥︹ But Blue could hardly form the words. Lottie took hold of her, squeezing her tight, both up to their hips in filthy water.
鈥淭ell me.鈥
鈥淭hey鈥檝e deducted 600 credits.鈥
鈥淭here has to be a mistake.鈥 Lottie snapped her fingers. 鈥淪how me the card.鈥
Blue did. There had been no error.
鈥淭hey told me,鈥 Blue said, still shivering in her embrace. 鈥淚t was something I dug up out of the muck. Some kind of damaged power-pack or maybe a bomb someone left in the river. The drone collected it. It went all the way back to the grading facility, then it blew up.鈥
Lottie shuddered. Down in the fine print, they were responsible for any damage to upstream assets, anything or anyone higher in the food chain, robot, AI, human.
鈥淲as anyone hurt?鈥
鈥淣o,鈥 Blue sniffed. 鈥淚 think it was just machines. But it鈥檚 still cost them.鈥
鈥淵ou mean it鈥檚 cost you.鈥 Lottie steeled herself. 鈥淵ou need those creds, girl. We鈥檒l say there was a mix-up, that the bad thing was in my hopper.鈥
鈥淲e try that, they鈥檇 just punish both of us.鈥
鈥淭hey would.鈥 Lottie felt something shift within herself, some piece of her soul moving silently and irrevocably into a new configuration. 鈥淎nd even if you stayed here for another month, who鈥檚 to say it wouldn鈥檛 happen again?鈥 She paused. 鈥淪how me your card.鈥
Some glimmering of understanding reached Blue. 鈥淣o. This is my mistake; I鈥檒l own it.鈥
鈥淚t鈥檒l be my choice.鈥
鈥淚 don鈥檛 want it. You need what you鈥檝e earned, for Amelia.鈥
鈥淎melia鈥檚 gone,鈥 Lottie said, suddenly dry-mouthed. 鈥淚鈥檝e known that a long time; I just wasn鈥檛 able to face the truth.鈥
鈥淪he鈥檚 still there, behind the paywall.鈥
鈥淪omething鈥檚 still there. Maybe my memories, maybe not. Would I even know, at this point?鈥 Lottie shook her head, furious in her defiance. 鈥淣o. What mattered about her, I鈥檝e still got. Those traces of her I clung onto. Those yellow things. The feelings that surround the void. It鈥檚 enough.鈥
鈥淵ou鈥檙e only saying that because you want to help me.鈥
鈥淚鈥檝e been thinking about what it would mean to pay for those memories. I鈥檇 be surrendering, giving in to them.鈥
鈥淲hy would helping me be any different?鈥
鈥淏ecause it鈥檚 a human deed they don鈥檛 get to monetise. Because right now, you need this more than I need Amelia.鈥 She swallowed. 鈥淏ecause it would please me to do one good thing for a friend. Because鈥 hell, it鈥檚 Christmas.鈥
鈥淚f I take this offer鈥 promise me you鈥檒l be all right?鈥
鈥淚鈥檒l be fine. Like you said, there鈥檚 never a bottom to the food chain.鈥
鈥淚 hope you鈥檒l take care of yourself.鈥
鈥淚 will. And you鈥檒l send me that postcard. Tell me about the Up And Out.鈥
Blue extracted her card. Lottie offered hers to it and authorised the credit transfer. The digits on her card tumbled down, while those on Blue鈥檚 incremented.
鈥淭hank you,鈥 Blue breathed.
鈥淭hat鈥檒l get you to Quito?鈥
鈥淎nd more. I promise I won鈥檛 use any of it on those mods.鈥
鈥淕ood girl. I mean, at some point you鈥檒l probably have to, but at least you鈥檙e going in with your eyes open.鈥
鈥淚 am.鈥
鈥淒on鈥檛 let them take anything more from you than they need to, Blue. And keep singing that song. It鈥檚 not stupid wanting to skate away, even if the river never freezes. It鈥檚 beautiful.鈥
鈥淚 promise.鈥
Blue left. She had no reason to finish her shift, and what remained in her hopper she invited Lottie to tip out and load into her own, one small recompense.
Lottie watched her walk away from the bank, diminishing to a tiny spectre against the rising flanks of the buildings. Fog curdled low, forming a platinum screen. Blue waved a hand, turned around and stepped into the mist. Lottie never saw her again.
#
She did hear from Blue, though. After about three months, she sent a message to say that she was finding her way in the Up And Out, that it was tough, but she was adapting. Three months after that, another message. She was doing better now. She鈥檇 found some regular work, some rare niche that still needed a particular quirk of human talents. It might not last, but she was keeping her options open.
It was nearly six months before the next message, and that meant it was nearly a year since they had worked the river together. Lottie was somewhere else by then, no longer scraping muck and mud for recyclables. It wasn鈥檛 better work, exactly, but it was a change. Something different.
Blue was doing well now. She had gone further out. She was starting to find that her skills were valuable, to the right people. She was making better money. It was expensive, out there, but she had begun to save more than she was spending. And she wanted to send a little bit of those funds back to Lottie.
鈥淚 know it鈥檚 not as much as you gave me,鈥 Blue said, older and wiser in just the 12 months she had been away. 鈥淎nd no kindness of mine can equal the thing you did for me, back when I needed it. I still want you to have this, all the same. Maybe it helps you get a bit closer to Amelia, if that鈥檚 what you still want. Just don鈥檛 think of it as surrendering, however you make use of it. You鈥檙e better than that, and you鈥檙e better than them. I鈥檒l always be grateful that we worked that stinky old river together.鈥
Lottie did the decent thing, which was to accept the gift. When the transaction had completed, she closed her hand around the card, treasuring the memory of her sharp-faced friend from the river, hoping that things kept on working out for Blue. Then she went and wandered the grey world until, with an equal measure of pain and joy, something yellow stabbed her right through to the core.
Biography
Alastair Reynolds
After working as a scientist with the European Space Agency, Alastair Reynolds turned full-time writer in 2004. His science fiction novels include Eversion and the forthcoming Machine Vendetta (2024), both published by Orion.
