Crashing Heaven Read Free

revenge, not justice.’
    The lift doors opened. The official shoved Jack out. ‘Now fuck off.’ There was an empty atrium and a midnight street. Tiredness hit Jack harder than any interrogation ever could. Suddenly all he wanted to do was find a room and sleep, and never wake to see the dawn. He thought of Andrea, sighed, and then stepped out into the darkness of Station.

 
    Chapter 2
     
    It was night and the spinelights were dim. Jack left Customs House and set off into Docklands down a road the colour of rust, turning the collar of his coat up against the rain. He’d walked these streets before, but never offweave. Calle Agua was almost as he remembered it, a canyon of four- or five-storey office blocks owned by either Sandal or Kingdom. Each was carved out of age-scarred iron.
    Kingdom’s visuals were always minimal. As the architect of humanity’s presence in the Solar System he liked physical structure, the heart of his power, to be exposed. So, the iron would have been left to show through the weave. Sandal’s offices would have been glossed with an overlay of smiling faces and positive thoughts. He was responsible for cargo, docks and related transport logistics. He liked to show how important he was to the smooth movement of goods and services, and so to general human happiness.
    And of course six Pantheon icons would be watching over Docklands from far above, clustered around the Spine and backlit by spinelight. Five of them would be fully aware, tending visibly to their enclosed world.
    Only Grey’s raven would be blinded and hobbled. Station’s master corporate strategist had been silenced for years.
    Being offweave, Jack could see none of this.
    [ I’m sure you’re not missing anything,] said Fist, his thin, high voice singing in Jack’s mind. The little puppet had run a dozen paces ahead. The rain was falling through him. He looked back at Jack, varnished eyes gleaming excitedly out of a glossy painted face. [Come on!] he shouted. Then he clapped his wooden hands together twice and disappeared beneath the elevated rails that crossed the end of Calle Agua. There was something almost innocent about his excitement. As Jack followed him beneath the single high arch that supported the bridge, carefully avoiding puddles, a train bumped and swayed over it. Light flashed down, showing buildings that were already a little lower and less imposing. He turned towards Hong Se De Market. Fist was standing on the pavement just ahead of him, staring at a figure that was looking up at a warehouse.
    [Look at that, Jack! A Totality biped. He’s far from home.]
    [ If he’s identifying as male, he is. Otherwise, she is.]
    [Pedant. What’s it up to?]
    The rain shimmered off the biped’s dark poncho. It was about the height of an average human. After a few seconds it turned away from the warehouse and moved down the street, stopping when it was in front of the next building. As its head moved to stare upwards again, its hood slipped. It had no face. Light glowed out of a soft blank oval, tinting the wet night purple.
    Fist was all hungry fascination. [ If I wasn’t caged,] he muttered. Jack crossed the road to pass the biped. Fist ran after him. [Snowflakes out there, squishies in here,] he panted. [ I don’t know what things have come to. No wonder your customs friend was so unhappy!]
    [Don’t call them squishies, Fist.]
    [ I don’t see why not. I don’t mind being called a puppet.]
    As they approached the market, gloomy metal facades gave way to ramshackle assemblages of plastic, tin and canvas, barely holding together as the rain lashed them.
    [Docklands’ biggest market? It’s a dump.]
    [ It’s better when you’re onweave.]
    Jack remembered dancing words hanging in midair, enticing passersby into market booths. Ghostly data sprites touched at potential customers with viewer-appropriate fingers, whispered viewer-appropriate promises, displayed viewer-appropriate genitalia and hinted at viewer-appropriate