Chapter 70

The open-air bazaar is aptly named. It is bizarre. The train station at Topeka was everything slick and bright that I might expect from this world, but the bazaar is a poor, freakish cousin--a mixture of modern and misfits, slick and slimy, the kind of place my brother and his friends would fit in. The noise and smells give it a carnival atmosphere. V-ads appear before your face here too, but these aren't ads for luxury items like at the train station. Instead they're for bail bonds, cheap medical care, and discount coupons for the sideshows. Jenna shows us the trick to make them disappear for good. Instead of waving them away like we did at the train station, we are to grab them and tear them in two as if they were trash. Even though they're transparent and virtual, they make a sound like ripping paper before they vanish like confetti, and our bodyprint is temporarily registered to receive no more ads while we're at the bazaar.

Before we start down the first aisle, Kara announces that she found a money card a few days ago when she was rummaging through a trash can for food, so all purchases are on her. The Kara I know would starve before she would eat someone else's trash. And who throws money into a trash can? She seems to be better at living on the streets than I gave her credit for. Suspicion flashes across Allys's face, but Jenna turns before I can see her reaction.

We walk down the aisles, if you can call them that. They twist and turn haphazardly. Some of the structures look more permanent, with shelves for merchandise and canvas walls for protection against the weather, but many stores are just rugs rolled out with wares thrown on top of them. One woman gives wildflowers away, hoping for donations. Groups of land pirates walk freely down the aisles, but I never see one by himself. They are always at least in pairs, like they need someone to watch their back.

Kara, Jenna, and Kayla lead the way, with Dot and me behind them and Allys and Miesha pulling up the rear. Kara loops her arm through Jenna's, and I think I see Jenna smiling when she turns her head, like she is beginning to believe what I said--that Kara's empty face is only a result of Gatsbro's ineptitude.

I stay just a few steps behind, keeping an eye on them. They pause, move forward, point, and stop to examine merchandise. A stranger would never know it was the first time they had done this together in 260 years. I remember when I used to walk behind them on Newbury Street in Boston, carrying packages for them because I had no interest in shopping, waiting out on the sidewalk, playing games on my phone while they went in and out of stores. I remember how Kara never tired and how she pushed Jenna to try new things, and sometimes Jenna would, but her tastes were always quieter than Kara's, even down to the colors they favored. Jenna always gravitated toward variations of soft blue, but Kara loved brilliant colors, especially red. We never stopped for lunch, but ate our way down the street, sharing bites of pizza, sips of smoothie, and chunks of hot pretzel. They always gave me the biggest share of everything, saying I was a growing boy. I hated it when they said that.

I watch them stop to look at a rack of pants. They are all a dull gray, but with a few words to a ragged SalesBot, the gray pair Kara likes becomes a deep blood red. Even here in a poorer district I guess color-chip-enhanced fabric is commonplace. Jenna purchases a small shirt for Kayla and a bagful of spiced almonds from a nearby vendor. Soon everyone seems to be spreading out. I see Miesha step over to a booth with outdoor survival gear, and Allys looks at garden tools at the next booth. Before everyone is too spread out, I offer to sit on a nearby bench with their packages and act as home base like I used to. Dot insists on sitting with me. Watching things is just as fascinating to her as buying things. Even though she's from this world and I'm not, this perspective is as new for her as it is for me.

"I wonder what it smells like," Dot says, pointing to a smoking grill with long slabs of meat cooking on it.

I remember the foul algae ponds that didn't faze her. She seems so human, at least from the waist up, her Botness sometimes still surprises me.

"That's right," I say. "I forgot that you can't smell."

"I have sensors that can detect noxious fumes that might impact customers, but smell is not considered a necessary add-on for my line of work. Does it smell good?"

How would she know what is good? How would she know the difference between my brother's armpits or a hot apple pie if she could smell? I breathe in deeply for her benefit and nod. "Yes, Dot. Very good. It smells like burning wood and toasted spices, and I can almost taste the grilled meat in my mouth." And then I realize she can't taste either. She sees and she hears and that's it. I reach out and grab her hand, and I trace her name in her palm. "Can you feel that, Dot?"

"Feel what?"

I place her hand back in her lap. They gave her only what was necessary for her job, and she doesn't even have that anymore. Thanks to me. I may have gotten her some makeshift legs to get her around, but I can't do anything about everything else she's missing.

"You are troubled, Customer Locke. Is this not your preferred destination? I'm sorry, I'm only a passenger now, and I cannot alter our--"

"No, Dot, that's not it. This stupid destination is just as good as any other place right now. I was just thinking about how I wish I could give you more than those substitute legs. I know you could have gotten points if you had turned us in."

Her shoulders pull back and her brows rise. "Customer Locke, I may not have everything you do, but I have more than you think and much more than I ever dreamed of. I told you, Bots dream. At least some of us do. Whether we are supposed to or not, whether it was ever planned or not, we dream. Some of us think beyond our cabs, we imagine where our customers go and what things they see. When they jump into our cabs, we imagine where they have been, and how it has changed them. Their worlds become our secret worlds, and sometimes we share those places with others like us and sometimes we even dare to dream that those worlds could be ours one day. We don't know if that could ever be true for us, but we hear stories. And now ... I am one of those stories. Escape is not about moving from one place to another. It's about becoming more.

"I know I could still be found by Star Security. Remote Deactivation could sizzle my circuitry in a blink, but every single minute of this past week would still be worth it." She looks down at her palm where I traced her name and runs a finger over the place I touched. "Even though I may not walk, or taste, or feel, or even think exactly like the Eaters and Breathers, I use what I have more than any of them can even imagine. So." She looks back at the meat grilling, takes a deep breath, and then pats the sides of her assistance chair. "You never need to worry about me! Customer Locke, I thank you for allowing me to be part of your Escape."

I stare at her. She's light-years from the Bot in the diner and even more light-years from the CabBot who was going to trade me for points. Did those Bots ever dream of escape? Did they dream at all? Maybe something changes inside when a Bot dreams. Maybe that's how they become something more.

"You're right, Dot. I don't think I need to worry about you."

"Worry about what?" Jenna says, surprising both of us from behind.

"Not a thing," I say, and Dot grins. I turn and look over my shoulder at Jenna. "What are you doing back?"

"Kayla went with Allys to look at some bird feeders, and Kara's still looking for a shirt that's more her style. I'm done. I'm not much of a shopper anymore."

"Where did Miesha go?" Dot asks.

"I'm not sure. The last time I saw her, she was walking over that way."

"I'll find her," Dot says, and she takes off in the direction that Jenna pointed, the treads of her assistance chair crunching over the dirt.

Jenna sits down next to me. "Looks like those two have become quite attached to each other this past week."

"Yeah, it's a surprise to me. They sure didn't start out that way. Almost as much of a surprise as you agreeing to go shopping. Where in the world did that come from?"

Jenna shakes her head. "I honestly don't know. Maybe I was just overwhelmed with too much too fast. I've had a lot to wrap my head around in such a short time. I guess, when she said shopping, it seemed like an out. A place to get away and think, or not think, depending on how you look at it. I'm still trying to sort it all out." She turns to look at me. "She really wanted to come. I couldn't say no, and I couldn't say no to you either. You wanted me to give her a chance, so I am. Her face, it still-- But she talks and moves and seems just like the Kara I knew--"

She stops suddenly. A warm glow fills her face, and her eyes focus on something in the distance. I turn to see what she's looking at. Kayla is walking down an aisle toward us, twirling a ribbon on a stick over her head. Allys follows close behind. They stop at one of those animal cookie carts and watch the vendor create a sparkling animal cookie. Even from this distance, I can see the wonder filling Kayla's face.

"She's your North Star, isn't she?"

Jenna nods, her eyes still fixed on Kayla. "The first time I looked into her eyes, Locke, I saw the universe. I saw it like I've never seen it before." She turns to me and smiles. "I saw and heard and knew at last the How and Why of all things, past."

It's the Millay poem I quoted for her a few days ago. "I saw why this world goes on," she says. "I saw all the hope of the future, even when this world is one big mess. Looking into Kayla's eyes made me hope for a better future. Maybe hope is all that's ever kept the world going."

"That's a lot to see in one little girl's eyes," I say.

"Yes," she answers. "It is."

And then, while Jenna is still dreamily focused on Kayla, something catches my eye. I turn my head slightly, and through the crowds, past the carts, past the hanging baskets and flapping canvas stalls, I see Kara. She is watching. Her mask is gone, and she is staring at Jenna.

And in an instant, I know. Her words from two nights ago flash through my head. She deserves to suffer, the same way we suffered.

That's where she's been the last week.

Practicing. Gaining control over every movement of her face. Gaining perfect control so she reveals nothing, not even to me, because I might give it away. In another instant, her performance for Jafari flashes through me--the timing, the pauses, all rehearsed and perfectly orchestrated. But Jafari was an ordinary human. He couldn't read and dissect a face the way we can, and Kara is smart enough to know that Jenna has the same ability. Her performance for Jenna required even greater skill. When the time is right. Watching. I need to know.

Hurting Jenna wasn't enough. Even killing Jenna wouldn't be enough for Kara. But making her suffer ... that's what she's watching for. She's looking for Jenna's greatest weakness.