*
The coordinates matched a location on the Acoutsina Causeway, between the joints. Calliope had gone there sometime between 22:00 Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon of that week, when the flies found her body. Her fob logged her out of the tower at 21:48, and ambient surveillance found her at:50 and:55 looking before she crossed onto the causeway, and then again when she paused to look at a man cooking syrup sculptures. The fire under his wok picked out her features enough for the cameras to recognize her in the dimness. She smiled at him as he drizzled a butterfly shape onto a plate, carefully lifted it free, and handed it to a little girl. After that, Calliope drifted away from the crowd. And then she disappeared.
Hwa went for a night run at 22:00 the next Tuesday to see what she had seen.
At night, the pavement of the Acoutsina lit up speckled and blue, like a scattering of diamond dust had been mixed in with the asphalt. It was a pale imitation of the stars overhead. This far out to sea, the sky was still dark. It was different, on the mainland. Even St. John’s had an orange sky at night. But in New Arcadia the stars were clear, so clear you could imagine how sailors had navigated by them.
The year after Tae-kyung died, Hwa had taken an off-book job guarding equipment on an observatory vessel. The biologists took their boat out at night, and during the day they wanted someone keeping an eye on all their stuff while they slept. The final night, they took her with them to watch the Perseids. The meteors kept streaking by, so many and so fast that they all lost count as the cups kept filling. Everyone was talking about how lucky they were to see it so clearly. All Hwa could think about was how even the oldest things died and became nothing, and what a comfort that was, that nothing lasted forever.
Now she slowed to a stop, near the candy drizzler and his wok. He was still there. He gave her a hopeful look, but she shook her head. He directed his shtick somewhere else.
“All right, Calliope? What did you see?”
It would be Halloween, soon, so the kiosks were selling masks and props and costumes. One guy was hawking maps to the best candy and parties in Tower Five. And there were a bunch of haunted accessory realities—you could see the whole rig populated by zombies, or vampires, or whatever. Each day the vision would change a little, until you were in full alternate-universe horror.
“Do Calliope’s purchases over the past month match any of the businesses here?”
It took Prefect a minute. “No.”
Hwa crossed to avoid a cyclist and looked out over the water. She sighed. “She was right here. I’m standing where she was standing, right before her fob started to drift. Even if she jumped, everyone would have seen her.”
“Posit: she entered the water somewhere closer to the water, immediately below.”
Hwa looked down. Below the low-speed pedestrian level was the high-speed level for vehicles. Lights rushed by, infrequent but blazingly fast. This late there was no speed limit. Only at peak hours did the vehicles have to watch how fast they went. If Calliope had gone down there, it was possible she’d been hit and fallen. But there was a suicide barrier at that level. She knew. She had seen Síofra’s maps of the area.
Which meant she’d entered the water from somewhere below the causeway itself. Where the trolls lived.
“You have got to be shitting me.”
Hwa searched for the nearest set of service stairs. The relevant logo floated up above a parkette fringed with twisted long-needle pine and a few artful boulders that suggested human shapes huddled against the wind. Set in among the trees was a set of rusting steel doors. The rust had all but eroded the New Arcadia logo that burned high above in Hwa’s vision.
“Here goes. Open her up.”
It took a moment, but Hwa heard the bolt squeal to one side. She pushed down on the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. They’d rusted together. Hwa looked around at the people crowding the causeway. No one was really paying attention to the woman in the trees. The trees themselves reeked of piss—probably everyone had gotten used to ignoring whoever stood there.
Hwa gave the door a nudge. Then a shove. Then a full body check. The doors fell open and Hwa stumbled down into cold, stale darkness. She found herself in a tight tunnel that reverberated with the roar of passing vehicles. The stairs went almost straight down. Their edges glowed, dimly. She felt around for a switch, but there was none.
“Lights,” she said, but none came. She waved her hands. Nothing. Even if there were lights, their circuits might have burned out years ago. “Who used to manage this part of the causeway?” Hwa asked.
“The last manager on file is listed as Nakatomi & Sons,” Prefect said.
“Aye? How long ago did that contract wrap up?”
“Five years ago.”