She jumped out the window. Domingo panicked and poked his head out, and saw her climbing up the side of the old structure, her shoulders hunched. Once again, he had the impression that she was a great bird of prey, although her shape was still human. He thought of those old gods with animal heads he’d once seen in a book, and she reminded him a bit of one of them. She disappeared onto the roof so quickly Domingo thought he might have imagined the whole thing. He held his breath for a moment and swallowed.
Sanitation. Right. He could deal with those guys. He’d dealt with them before. Sometimes they bugged him when he was walking in the street. No biggie.
Domingo went back to the bedroom and took out the sleeping bag and the blanket in the closet, tossing them on the bed. Then he rushed to the kitchen and placed his torta in the refrigerator. He left a cup in the sink. That was the closest the apartment was going to get to normal without any furniture. Domingo glanced at the Doberman, which had been following him around, and hoped to God it didn’t attack anyone.
The knock on the door came and he opened it.
The woman standing before him was holding a tablet and didn’t look at him as she spoke. “Sanitation sweep. We’d appreciate your cooperation. Please hand over your ID and state your name.”
“I’m Domingo Molina but I don’t have no ID,” he said.
“You are required to carry your ID.”
“It’s just I never have had one, miss,” he replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’m only seventeen, if that makes any difference.”
The woman now raised her head, sighed, and gave him an irritated look. “Do you live here alone?”
“Just me and my dog,” he said, feeling the Doberman drifting closer to his side.
The woman glanced at the dog, scribbled on her tablet. “Carlos, can you check the rooms?” she asked, speaking to a man who was standing behind her. “The super gave us his notes and it says here a girl lives in this apartment. Where’s she?”
Domingo stepped aside to let the man in. “I don’t know. The guy that’s renting me the place didn’t say nothing about a girl.”
The woman let out a deep sigh, made an annotation. “It figures the paperwork would be wrong. Okay, so you live here?”
“Yeah. For now. I move around. Been working for a rag-and-bone man lately. I help him carry the stuff, sell it. Thermoplastic clothing is his specialization. Me? I like gathering electronics. It’s good wo—”
“Give me your hand.”
Domingo obeyed. The woman pressed a thin, white plastic stick against his palm. It beeped.
“Temperature is normal.”
“That’s good, right?”
The woman nodded. Domingo took out a piece of gum and started chewing it. The dog was sitting still, eyeing the sanitation worker.
“It’s empty,” said the other sanitation worker, returning from his short trip.
The woman was looking at her tablet again. Apparently it was much more interesting than Domingo.
“You realize that you have to register with the health station in your borough, right? It’s the law.”
“I know, ma’am, but I don’t have no ID.”
“Yes, well, even if you’re a minor you need to fill out the form and register. If more people followed that simple procedure we wouldn’t have to be knocking on so many doors, trying to find Cronengs, would we?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Your dog, it’s enhanced?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Domingo said, because there was no point in denying it. The bioluminescent tattoo was a dead giveaway.
“It should also be registered at the health unit. All modified pets should.”
“Okay. I didn’t know. Got it off a shelter. Idiot rich wig threw it away, couldn’t quite believe it ’cause normally I wouldn’t be able to afford such a nice—”
Both sanitation workers looked bored as hell. The woman interrupted him again and Domingo took that as a good sign. It meant she was about to move on. He was right.
“I’m going to put a green seal on your door, which means you’re not sick with anything and you’re not harboring drugs, but you have to visit the health station within ten days, all right? Also, bring your dog so they can enter his info into the computer. There’s going to be a note in the system and if you don’t do it, we’ll come back and take you there, along with the animal. It’s a lot easier if you just go.”
“Sure.”
The woman handed him a pamphlet with an address and information printed on it, then bade him goodbye. Domingo locked the door, sat on the floor, and waited. He could have sworn it took forever, and he was about to run to the roof when Atl simply flew back into the apartment. Okay, she didn’t technically fly, but she jumped inside with a certain grace and flexibility that was definitely birdlike.
Atl looked at him, and her face was not really human; it was a bird’s face, though it lacked a beak. Instead of hair she had lustrous feathers. She shook her head and the feathers disappeared, leaving only pitch-black hair behind and a face that was so thin and sunken it seemed positively emaciated.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sugar,” she said, hurrying toward the kitchen.
“Do you wa—”
He had no time to ask more because she had grabbed the whole box with the sugar cubes, which had been left on a kitchen counter, and was eating like a wild animal, stuffing cubes into her mouth. When she was done, she rested her back against the refrigerator and chuckled.
“It’s not good,” she said.
“What’s not good?”
“The hunger.”