Walker was true to his word. A vic showed up for me in the next few minutes, driven by a taciturn Holy Bone in jeans and a maroon leather vest. I asked him what was going on and he just shrugged. “If either of us would know it’d be you, Sawyer.”

Was that a bit of resentment I heard? Maybe, maybe not. “Guess that makes two of us in the dark,” I replied.

He snorted and pulled away towards Walker’s brownstone. “Mushrooms.”

“Yup.” Kept in the dark and fed nothing but shit, as the saying went.

It was full night now, no light coming through the Pall above at all. I scanned the streets during the drive, trying to derive whatever clues I could, but everything seemed normal. It even looked like more people were out than there had been recently- maybe the terrorizing effects of Yera’s rampage against Blue Div were wearing off. I almost asked the guy to pull by my place so I could get my saw, but then I remembered I’d left it in K-block like the idiot I was.

The driver pulled smartly into Walker’s underground garage and parked. I hopped out and went around to the driver’s side, where he was lighting a smoke.

“Thanks for the ride, uh…”

“Rigel.” He put the cig in his mouth and stuck out his hand so I could shake it. “No problem, Sawyer. Good luck with whatever the hell’s wrong now.”

“Thanks, man. Every little bit helps.” I waved as I climbed the stairs out of the garage and he waved back. My dad always told me that just a little civility goes a long way. Upon reaching the ground floor I peeked into Ms. Sanverth’s office, only for her to point at the ceiling without even looking up from her computer. Walker really was in a tearing hurry. I went up yet another flight of stairs and into his office.

“Sharkie!” he said by way of greeting as he got a burner started. The usual mountain of butts in his ashtray was even taller and more pungent than usual. “I’m damn sorry about all this rush-rush-rush bullshit, but this one comes from up on high. Grab some caff if you want.” He jerked a thumb at the pot in the corner. It looked to have been perking all day.

“Thanks but I’ll pass. So what exactly is this one?” I flopped down into one of his overstuffed chairs, making it creak.

He pulled on his cig and scowled, making his craggy face even craggier. “I’ll tell you what Boss Moses told me,” he groused through a cloud of foul smoke. I imagined I could’ve heard his lungs begging for help if it was any less thick.    “Cardie Lee- our intel chief, if you’ll recall- she picked up a ’strange EM-spectrum signal’ coming from somewhere near the Chasm. We’re supposed to investigate it.”

I frowned, eyebrow raised. “Strange how? And why do they care? Do they know anything else about it?” A paranoid voice in the back of my head said it was some kind of trap and I was being sent into the dark to be discreetly disposed of. That was ridiculous, though. If Walker wanted me dead there were far easier ways to do it. Besides, I trusted him. Mostly.

He laughed, though it sounded anything but amused. “In order: Don’t know, don’t know, maybe but they ain’t told me. You’d think that where I’m at they’d quit treatin’ me like a Rik-damn mushroom, but I guess some things never change.”

I cracked up and explained the talk I’d had with Rigel on the way over. He chuckled for real this time. “No matter how high you get promoted, Sawyer, you never stop gettin’ fucked. They just change up the positions some. Anyway, they want someone to got put eyes on this…whatever the hell it is. Just lookin’, no touchin’.”

“Not to sound lazy, Walker, but doesn’t that sound like a job for Monta? Plus my arm’s still pretty fucked.” My old friend Fidi had excelled at sneaking around in the dark even as a kid, when we’d just been lifting trinkets off of gomi stands. Now he was a flat-out ninja, much better suited than I was for a stealthy recon mission like this.

He took another vicious drag and leaned forward across his desk. “I get that, Sharkie, and if I could call ‘im I would. But his wife’s havin’ trouble with their baby-“

“Oh, hell!”

“-and so he can’t do it. Don’t worry, as far as I know she’s okay, but she’s in the hospital up in K and I’ll be damned if I pull him away from her unless I gotta.” He sighed deeply. “Always a clusterfuck. It’s never one thing at a time.”

“Don’t worry, Walker. I don’t mind, especially if that’s why I’m doing it.” I’d have to give Monta a call later and see how he was doing- hopefully at a less fraught time. I crossed my arms, slowly sinking into the chair’s padding. “Where’m I going, then?”

“Northeast. Right by the Chasm, like I said.” I didn’t respond at first. The Chasm was a giant…chasm, of course, that ran along much of the north edge of D-block. Some huge earthquake or weapon or meteor strike or something had cracked it open centuries ago, sending most of the former E-block collapsing some inordinate distance into the earth. It was deep into a dark zone now, shunned even by burnouts. Nobody knew what, if anything, made its home in there now. Northmarch and Pengyi were the only people I’d ever heard of who’d gone there, and even Pengyi had barely gotten close. Even talking about it seemed to give him the chills.

“Why the fuck does our boss care what goes on there, man?” I asked, leaning forward to rest my hands on the edge of Walker’s hulking desk. “I’m not even going to say I’m not scared of the place, ‘cause I am.”

“You think that wasn’t the first fuckin’ thing I asked them? ‘Just go.’ He mimicked Cwyr Smith’s raspy voice. ‘We’ll tell you what’s up once you do what you’re told.’ They want this held as close to the vest as possible. Besides Cardie Lee and the Boss’s office, we’re the only ones that know about it. Like I said, this time I’m just as much a mushroom as you. We’re in the dark figuratively, literally, every which way. Or you are, at least. Privileges of rank.” He flashed a stupid, fake-smug grin.

“Go to hell. You better give me a vic, at least.”

“Damn straight. Got you a Zandkat. Like a Dienskat, but with a roof.” I nodded. The rugged little 4x4 would be perfect for crossing such neglected terrain. “It’s got a nav unit, though things’ll get spotty by the time you’re that far out. The signal’s comin’ from over here.” He slid a plastic printout across to me. It showed a map of northern D-block, with Parkside near the middle and the Chasm a jagged black scar across the top. A red box outlined a small area right at its edge. “You’ll have to sort of look back and forth once you get close, but you’ll be going pretty slow by then anyway.”

“Right. They sound like they’re on your ass about this for whatever reason, so I better get going.” While I liked getting all the information I could, it didn’t seem like there was much to be had here. There came a point where discussing how to do something started to annoy me and I’d rather just hop in and get it done.

“They are, but I got one more thing for you.” He reached behind his desk and retrieved a long, black case, perfectly matte and rectangular. Its only distinguishing feature was the stylized Wiken Tool sigil on top. Wiken made the best of the best, the sort of kit that Prix Noire pit crews used. In D-block even secondhand Wiken stuff went for pretty much the same price as new. I was almost certain what was inside. “Open ‘er up,” Walker urged.

I touched the nigh-invisible catches and hinged the case open. “Shit, Walker, you didn’t have to…” Within was a Wiken glittersaw, far nicer than the one I’d lost uptown. I’d seen the model in catalogs but never in person. Long-lasting radiological battery, variable frequency oscillation, even a sensor that would try to stop the blade before it snapped if it detected a bind. It was also made of matte carbon-fiber and Wiken’s trademark blued steel- which beat the hell out of my old one’s safety yellow. It even came with a few spare blades and a sort of sling, though the latter wasn’t as nice as the multipurpose sheath I’d had made for my old one.

“Seriously, man, thanks.” I pulled it out with my good hand and revved the blade. It was near-silent, the only noise that of air being torn by its blurred diamond microteeth.

“What’s Sawyer without her saw?” Walker said with a nasty smile- he knew I still found the name kind of embarrassing. “I know you lost the old one, and if I was gonna replace it for you, why not get a good one?”

“Still, thanks. Why give it to me now, though? I thought I was just ‘puttin’ eyes on’ this whatever-it-is.” I hoped he was serious about that part. I didn’t relish going into a fight with one hand held together with magic string.

“Better to have it and not need it, yada yada yada. I carry a gun even though I don’t use it every day.” He looked thoughtful as he drew his cig almost down to his fingers and crushed it out. “Easily every week, though. Here’s the ID chip for that Zandkat. And Sharkie?”

“Yeah?”

He met my eyes, very serious now. “I know you and your hand ain’t a hundy yet. If I had anyone else I trusted with this I’d send them, but I don’t. If things get sketchy you bounce the fuck out of there while you have the chance. Information or not. Got it?”

I nodded solemnly. “Sure thing, boss.”

“Luck, then.”

“Thanks, Walker. I’ll try and bring it back with a full tank.”

“Yeah, right. Get out of here.”

He was right, I thought as I went down the stairs. No matter who I worked for there was no way I was paying to put fuel in a company vic. You never knew what people around here cut their synfuel with anyway. When I went back down to the garage the Zandkat was easy to find. The 4 x 4 was small and boxy, utilitarian compared to the cars and trucks around it. It rode high on aggressive run-flat tires, perfect for smashing through potholes and crumbling pavement. The paint was in typically horrible shape- what parts weren’t etched by acid rain had been scoured off by glass storms- but when I stuck my head under it the running gear looked to be in good shape. I hopped into the oversized bucket seat- meant to fit someone wearing armor and a helmet, I assumed- and hit the starter. It fired right up with a smooth turbine whirr and I got on my way.

The drive north was a bit disconcerting. I went up through Central Ward, crossed a little snippet of Eighth, and proceeded into Parkside. And then, when my    subconsciously ingrained map of the Block told me ’stop, end of the line’ I just…kept going. The lifelights didn’t go away immediately, but there was a palpable transition from a functional neighborhood to a blighted ruin. Fewer and fewer of the buildings had power while more and more had doors broken in or windows smashed. Some were simply burnt husks. The traffic lights quit working, people disappeared from the sidewalks and the road grew even worse. I saw dim light in a few structures, whether from scavenged electrical hookups or chemical-drum fires. Somebody out of sight hurled a bottle at the Zandkat but missed. I just kept rolling as the light outside grew very dim indeed.

I drove under one last, fitful lifelight. Most of its elements were out and the ones remaining were well on their way. They buzzed so harshly that I heard them inside the Zandkat.    A little ways past it and the only illumination came from the laser-pumped headlights. The evening was moist and a little foggy, so they just lit up the mist and almost hurt more than they helped. The beams were so bright they made everything beyond them look like a wall of tar. I stopped for a moment to check the map, comparing the four-by’s nav screen to the printout Walker gave me. It looked like if stayed on this road- formerly called the Rue Pearl- I’d reach the area in question in a couple of miles. I found a handy switch that turned the headlights to a dull red and kept going.

The red light was easier on my night vision, but almost seemed to turn up the contrast on whatever I saw. Everything was red or black, nothing in between. The pavement grew worse and worse, and I went from dodging potholes to driving through washouts deep enough to swallow a car. The buildings off to either side grew sparser, many having burned in unchecked fires or collapsed completely ages ago. Those that remained creeped me out. It wasn’t like there were no abandoned structures in D-block. Far from it, in fact. But with those you could at least imagine that people lived there once. Sometimes they still did. Not here, though. The wrecks that loomed out of the dark from either side gave off a dry, dead, feeling, like things pried out of a sealed crypt. Like grave markers for something long ago passed.

There were other signs of degeneration as well. At one point my vic startled a herd of…somethings off the middle of the road. All I saw was their glowing eyes, a great many of them low to the ground. Another time I had to drive around a knot of twisted tree-trunk like that found in the park. I wondered if a seed had blown up here or if the Park had sent roots this far out. I didn’t like the idea of either. Worst was last. When I neared my destination the road was almost gone. Where the pavement hadn’t crumbled nearly to gravel it was covered over by dirt and gray Glasslands dust. It was in this territory I found the skeleton sitting in the roadbed. It was a weird, desiccated mesh of bone, vaguely egg-shaped and irregularly latticed like it had been wound around something rather than grown. A few things that might have been roots or limbs or both trailed from its bottom, curved and disturbingly jointed. The whole thing was twice the size of my SUV. I wasn’t going to think about what it had been whilst alive. Definitely not. Who knew what grew where the lights didn’t reach.

After a while of slow going through that dank hellscape I was maybe half a mile out from the marked area, so I decided to make a quieter approach. After parking the Zandkat in the lee of a crumpled sheet-steel warehouse I hopped out and checked my gear. New saw, new coilgun, old Slukh, old knife, plus a few flashlights and my slabs. I flexed my cut-up hand and found I could very nearly make a fist now- though I wouldn’t be punching anyone with it. It would have to be good enough. I got out a red-lensed light and got walking. Visibility was trash, so I kept my pace nice and easy. Though the old road surface was rough and buckled, I stuck to it rather than move through the buildings. The last thing I needed was to fall into a hidden cellar, break a leg and starve to death. I imagined being stuck out here without light and shuddered. My backup backup light- I always had at least three on me- was the kind you could recharge by shaking it. Having to jerk it off in case of emergency was well worth the peace of mind.

Crouching behind a heap of rubble, I checked Walker’s map one more time. By my reckoning I was right on the edge of the target area. I hunkered down and spent several minutes just waiting for anything to happen. I even flipped off my flashlight. Darkness slammed down like a triphammer. In the faint distance I could make out the glow of what must have been F-block’s huge factory complexes, far to the north. If I turned backwards- carefully, so carefully, didn’t want to drop the flashlight- I could see the glimmer of Parkside, so dim it almost seemed a trick of my eyes. Directly around me, though, it was like being submerged in a pool of tar.

I couldn’t have seen my hand if I poked myself in the eye with it, let alone held it in front of my face. Even with my thumb resting on the flashlight’s switch, all the ingrained, visceral D-block fears swam up: What if I dropped it? What if the battery was lower than I thought? What if it just didn’t turn back on? I was sure someone like Monta was hard enough to sit in the deep black for hours, but I wasn’t him. Was this how primitive humans felt, before lifelights and electricity and fire? How’d any of them stay sane? After only thirty seconds or so I ran out of fortitude and turned the light back onto its lowest setting.

My vigil was for naught. Mist settled damply into my hair as I waited. There was no movement except for the soft, warm breeze. No noise but my breath and the susurrus of dust blown against the bones of a neighborhood. No light but the dull electric ember in my hand. After a little while I decided I was literally getting nowhere and kept going. I was forced to divert sideways from the direct path by the tipped-over ruin of a huge old tenement building. Evidence of the earthquake or whatever responsible for the Chasm, I supposed. Finally I reached the end of the the rubble heap and peeked around the corner.

Before me was a slight rise leading to a wide, flat expanse, too regular to be natural. A parking lot, maybe, or a warehouse foundation or intact segment of multilane highway. Past that…nothing. A swathe of black emptiness too large to comprehend. It went off to either side farther than I could see and seemed unfathmoably broad. Far, far away it gave way to the foggy glow of F-block. I could see lights blinking softly atop the tallest smokestacks and derricks. There it was- the Chasm. Of greater concern, however, were the forms silhouetted before that glow.

Two or three were slumped on the ground, very still. The other was tall, standing, and most importantly in motion. As I watched it reached down into a pocket, brought its hand to its face and lit a cigarette. The lighter-flash and coal were a lot closer than I’d thought, but luckily they were facing away from me.

Well, that was easier than I thought. I hadn’t really done any investigating at all and I’d already found something weird. Maybe I could leave now- but no, that was stupid. ‘Mysterious smoking figure’ wasn’t very useful intel. Maybe this fit Walker’s definition of ‘sketchy,’ but it was just one person, right? Guess I’d go see who it was. I’d do my best, but I rather suspected I’d be making the ID on their corpse.

I passed my light to the cut hand and made sure I had enough strength in my thumb to turn it back on. With the other I drew the coilgun, checked the holo sight, and made sure it was loaded and set to spread shot. The checkered polymer of its grip felt familiar in my hand. And with that I crept out with all the stealth an overgrown jo-san in work boots could manage.

Both I and the environs were far from ideal for this. No matter how hard I tried, the gravelly remnants of asphalt crunched and ground under my boots. The mysterious smoker didn’t turn, though. As they took another drag I smelled the bac- something far smoother than what Walker liked, smelling slightly of cherry. I got closer. I wanted to be just near enough I could hit them with the light and have a certain shot if they tried something. After that maybe I could get some information out of them.

Closer. Maybe fifteen yards away. They had to have heard me by now, right? But no. The tall figure stood there gazing out across the chasm, burning down that cherry cigarette. Then- the smoker gone. A quicksilver bolt of light streaking at me. A spike of pain in my hand. A soft, ringing tinggg and a crunch of gravel.

I lunged forward on pure reactive instinct, but nobody was there anymore. Turning round, I flicked on my light- another spark of jagged pain in my hand- and spotted two metallic glimmers stuck in the gravel. Knives. No, two halves of a knife, split cleanly down blade and grip. How did I- something else shone in the dull red of my light, something familiar. It was short but unmistakable: a PIN thread, just like the Winnower’s. Even as I watched it pulled away, sliding- by the feeling- under the nail of my index finger. It didn’t hurt, but still felt very disturbing. The pain in my arm lessened as it did. I guessed it was still busy trying to hold me together. I tried to stay calm and thought hard at it to calm the fuck down. Shockingly, I felt a slight buzz in my arm. An acknowledgment?

Whatever. There was still a hostile out here with me. I flicked my light around, finding nothing. I was just revealing my position, so I tried to squeeze my hand hard enough to turn it off. Before I could, though, something streaked into its cone of illumination. It appeared blurrily, making my eyes water as they tried to resolve a sight that shouldn’t have existed. Almost immediately it settled into full reality.

Before me stood a tall woman in a white suit, a long, thin cigar dangling from her lips. Her skin was darker than mine in the red light, and her face was almost eerily beautiful- and familiar.

“You!” I yelled stupidly at my ‘sister’ Arcadia.

“You,” she spat, that imperious face curling into a perfect moue of disgust. Then it broke into a smile. “Fancy running into you here, Quietus. Sorry about that. I’m not going to stab you this time. Promise!”