She nodded and we both slipped our helmets over our heads. I climbed onto the bike first and turned it on, checking that the lights and gauges were working, feeling the propulsion system hum to life beneath me. Regulated air filled my helmet, and I drew a deep breath of clean air.
“Get on,” I said in helmet.
I felt the airped tilt with the weight of Daiyu climbing on behind me.
“There are pegs for you to place your feet. Just hold on tight and lean with me.”
Her thighs pressed against me as she wrapped her arms around my waist. “Ready,” she said. She sounded a little out of breath.
I revved the engine and we sped down the wide concrete path toward the steel wall as it slid open for us to reveal a glass outer wall, its edges lit in neon orange. “Hold on,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
I felt like a kid again right before his birthday party. Or how I’d always imagined a kid who got birthday parties would feel. The glass wall parted, and I sped through. We leaped into the air, the temperature dropping instantly around us even as our suits adjusted, and hung there for a heart-stopping moment before we lifted into the sky.
Daiyu gasped, and her limbs tightened around me. I could feel every inch of her against my body. My heartbeat raced as we surged upward, and I told myself it was from the speed of flying across the sky, not from the sensation of her clinging to me as close as a lover. I knew I liked Daiyu when I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t afford to like her more. Not for what I needed to do: lie to her and betray her.
Her laughter filled my ears as we soared over the lower buildings and wound between the taller ones, passing a few airpeds and aircars along the way, lit brightly even in the daytime. The curved lines of my own airped shone silver, to ensure that other drivers could see us. But beyond safety, it was obvious that the yous loved to be seen.
It was another cold winter day, and the sun was hidden behind clouds and pollution. The brightest light in Taipei didn’t come from the smothered view of our sun, but from the colorful advertisements projected across the glass panes of skyscrapers. Many lower buildings also had giant projection billboards mounted on their roofs. We flew by a four-story-tall projection of a Taiwanese man and woman, dressed in business attire, enjoying Mr. Brown coffee together. Across the way, flashing on another building, a gorgeous flight attendant from Empress Air was advertising fast and inexpensive flights direct to Beijing.
“This is amazing,” Daiyu breathed.
“Is it worth getting in trouble for?” I asked with a grin.
“Definitely.”
We sped past the towering skyscrapers and soon left the taller buildings behind as we headed toward the district of Datong on the western edge of Taipei. We had maintained a height of about twenty stories, and the air was cold up here. Flying through the brown haze, I enjoyed what we could see of our city, instead of suffering a swollen throat and stinging eyes. The filth didn’t seem as bad at all when you had a suit on.
Daiyu was warm against my back, so close I imagined that I could sense her heartbeat. As with rock climbing, she was fearless and a natural on the airped, leaning into the turns with me effortlessly. I took a few faster than necessary, just to feel her limbs tighten around me, hear the thrilled intake of her breath in helmet.
Jin Corp’s octagonal structure was hard to miss as we entered the Datong District. Its exterior was painted a pale gold. There was no better representation of prosperity and wealth than its eight-sided shape and color. The company had helped to revive one of the oldest areas of Taipei, long in a slump since the commercial and economic centers had moved away over a century ago. After Jin Corp was built, new residences were constructed and the older buildings refurbished. New restaurants and cafes emerged to welcome Jin Corp’s employees. Employees who would all be out of a job if our plan succeeded. I knew that in order to bring about a revolution, not only would yous be hurt in the process, but many meis as well. It was something else I had to learn to live with.
Means to an end.
Wasn’t that phrase usually used by villains in stories—or, at best, by misguided heroes?
But nothing big was ever gained without sacrifice. You grasped that fast enough as a reader, from Luo Guanzhong to Tolstoy to Woolf. My friends and I had debated for hours over our plan, back and forth, again and again. But in the end, the truth was a harsh and ugly one: in order to change the status quo, we had to be destructive. Seize control of the narrative. Redirect the plot.
I imagined blowing Jin Corp to smithereens, and it felt right. A clean slate. A new beginning.
“There’s parking on the roof,” Daiyu said, breaking into my thoughts. “But could you park on a side street instead?”
I nodded, and her arms hugged me tighter across my torso in thanks. Trusting. And in that moment, I hated myself for doing this to her. But I shoved the thought aside as quickly as it reared its head. Spying a narrow street near Jin Corp, I pressed the landing button and we skidded gently onto the concrete, riding a short distance until I parked and turned the airped off.
“You go first,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound strange.
She slid off of the airped with ease, leaving my back feeling suddenly exposed and cold. I got off and put down the kickstand.
“That was incredible!” Daiyu said. She reached over and took my hand, squeezing my fingers.
I almost snatched my arm back but controlled myself just in time, pressing my thumb into her palm before letting go. I was glad for my helmet, slightly tinted, as I was certain my expression must have appeared strained. Gods. My friends had given me the knowledge and all the material things to pass, but they’d never warned me of the emotional complications.
I guess they weren’t expecting any.
“Still incredible for me, too.” I grinned at Daiyu and forced away my thoughts. Forced away all the complications and focused on the girl before me, with eyes so bright that I could see them even behind her tinted helmet. “It’s my first airped.”
She admired the flying motorcycle, running her hand across the silver handlebars. “Will it be all right parked here?”
“It’s got an obnoxious alarm. And is almost impossible to move when turned off.”
Daiyu nodded and began walking down the residential street, quiet except for the sound of a barking dog somewhere above us. The walls of the buildings were filthy with grime, and all the balconies and windows had iron bars over them. I cast a glance around the dim street before catching up to her. She was about four inches shorter than me but matched me stride for stride. Turning down another side street in the labyrinthine paths of the old district, she said, “I’ll take us through a back entrance.”
This was a narrow alley where Daiyu and I could barely walk shoulder to shoulder, with so little light penetrating it seemed near dusk instead of midday. I heard the faint trickle of water from a pipe and the scampering feet of rats. I was glad for my helmet, as I was too familiar with the moldy, stagnant stench of water that must have surrounded us.