22 – What You Value Most

Addie sat down on the bench, and, as Pyroshi sat on the other, facing her, she asked, “My appearance? Do I look different than in my video message? Maybe I need to debug my PAI…”

“No, no. It isn’t that. It’s…” He sighed, shaking his head as he folded his hands in his lap. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’ve developed my sense for Dust and, well, Dust empaths have a kind of signature, here”—he unfolded his hands and softly tapped his forehead, right between his eyes—“and yours is very bright. I thought, perhaps, you were recruiting me for an upcoming job or, as Torque said, writing some sort of report. I didn’t know you were a Dust empath.”

Addie’s eyes widened as she listened, and when he finished, she asked, “Can all, um, Dust empaths do that?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s a particular talent and takes training. I’m sure you have talents I couldn’t match.”

Addie chuckled, shaking her head. “I doubt it. I can’t do much at all. That’s why I wanted to meet you.”

Pyroshi narrowed his eyes, but his smile said he was catching on. “Ah! So the story Torque mentioned…?”

Addie crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the bench’s cedar backrest. “Well, sir, I told Torque that little story because I don’t like him knowing all my business. You can understand, I hope?”

He nodded. “Exactly as I supposed.”

“What did you mean by my, um, signature being bright?”

“I mean that I can see at a glance that you’re more than a gleam—more than a spark, probably. You have a bright cluster of Dust trails here.” He reached toward her forehead with one finger, and Addie consciously chose not to flinch away, but he stopped short of touching her. “Your consciousness is accustomed to traversing the Dust. A gleam might have a loop or two, but when I look at you, it’s more like a spider’s web—no, more like a ball of yarn that’s come unraveled. There are too many threads for me to trace.”

As he withdrew his finger, Addie asked, “Is that what you see when you look at yourself?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “This sort of thing doesn’t show up in a mirror or vid. I can’t see what mine looks like.” He mimicked Addie’s posture, crossing one ankle over a knee and leaning back. “Tell me, Ember, have you always lived in the Blast?”

Addie licked her lips, suddenly wishing she had something to drink. A coffee cart was nearby, and her eyes drifted over to it as she answered. “I have. Is it obvious?”

“Your potential, combined with your professed lack of knowledge, makes it more plain than it otherwise would be. Boxer carefully curates the curriculum in their public schools. I’m assuming that was where you were educated? Not one of the smaller executive schools in the—”

“No, you’re right. I have Boxer to thank…and blame for what I know.” Addie smiled and pointed to the cart. “Do you mind if I get something to drink. Would you like something?”

He followed her gaze and nodded. “An americano would be nice—plain.” He gestured to the bench. “I’ll make sure we don’t lose our spot.”

“Be right back.” Addie hurried over to the cart, wondering why she felt like she was escaping from an uncomfortable situation. She felt like Pyroshi had seen through her too quickly—that she was exposed as an impostor. An impostor of what, though? What was she pretending to be? Was it just that he’d realized what she was before she could go through her carefully scripted revelation?

“What can I get you?” the synth operating the espresso machine asked.

“An americano and a, um…” Addie glanced at the menu, not really feeling like coffee. “Hot chocolate.”

“Do you want a shot in that?”

“A shot?”

“Of espresso, ma’am.”

“Oh, sure.”

Addie fidgeted a little, turning to smile and offer a quick, shy wave at Pyroshi. He nodded, then closed his eyes, turning his head toward the hazy sun where it hid behind gray clouds. He seemed very nice, very…serene. He certainly didn’t seem threatening in any way. He hadn’t had to tell her he could see her “Dust tracks” or whatever he called them. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t trying to be deceptive at all.

“Here you go.” The synth, clad in pale brown, rubbery synth-skin, smiled and pushed two cups toward her. One was small, containing brown, nearly black, steaming liquid, and the other was clearly her hot chocolate.

“Payment sent,” JJ announced.

“Thanks.” Addie took the cups and returned to Pyroshi. She handed him his americano as she sat.

“I appreciate it. Can I reimburse—”

“No, no.” Addie waved her free hand as she sipped her drink. It was sweet and rich, and definitely had a coffee aftertaste. She liked it.

“So, Ember. You said you sought me out because you want to know more about what I do? I’m inferring a bit, but is that right?”

Addie nodded, but her words contradicted the gesture. “No. I mean, it’s more than that. I don’t know where to go or who can help me. I was approached by a spark who works for Boxer, but he ended up trying to kidnap me.”

Pyroshi’s eyebrows shot up. “Zane?”

Addie felt the color drain from her face, and she quickly hid behind her cup, taking another sip. “Um, you know him?”

“Well, I’ve run into him on a couple of jobs, but I wouldn’t say I know him. He’s very proud of his corpo credentials and doesn’t exactly like to consort with the riff raff.”

Addie chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “You don’t strike me as riff raff, Pyroshi.”

“It’s all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. Zane thought my presence in the Blast was due to a lack of talent. The concepts of karma and filial obligation are foreign to him.”

Addie was ninety percent sure she knew what “filial” meant, so she ran with it. “You have people here you care about?”

“Indeed, and while I’ve the means to escape this district, I don’t yet have what it would take to move my whole family.” He sipped his coffee, pursing his lips as he savored the bitter blend. When he swallowed, he nodded slightly and added, “Nor would many of them be willing to leave, least of all my mother. She’s a stubborn woman, despite her advanced years.”

“I see.” Addie lowered her cup and held it in both hands, collecting the warmth. “I don’t know if my dad would ever leave, either. He’s almost proud of living here—like he can boast about how well he’s done despite his circumstances.”

“The Blast builds tough people.” He leaned forward a little and lowered his voice. “There’s a good chance your talent is because of the Blast—because of the Dust that’s so thick in the air here.”

“Just mine?” Addie asked, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’m serious, though. I’ve done my share of research on my excursions outside of the district. More empaths and afflictions originate in the Blast than in every other district in the metro area combined.”

“I’ve read similar. I mean, I know there are way more fades here than in the rest of the city.”

“Failed empaths, one and all.”

“You think so?”

“I do. I believe the thing that makes you and me talented with Dust was happening to them—and other afflicted—but something went wrong. The wrong DNA twisted or…” He shrugged as if to say he didn’t have the words.

“But there are plenty of people born outside of the Blast who are empaths, right?”

“Yes, but Dust is everywhere now. It’s just much, much thicker near the fragments of the Aurora Gate. The difference about the Blast is the—”

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“Radiation.”

He nodded. “I was going to say corruption. I think our Dust does to us what clean Dust does to others, but more savagely. Sometimes it works out and we get people with talents, and sometimes it goes too far and you get the Dust afflicted.” He tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “How did the conversation get here? I was going to offer my condolences that Zane was your first encounter with a Dust empath in the Blast. I’m very glad to see his attempts to steal you away were, apparently, thwarted.”

“Well…” Addie was going to laugh it off, but a sudden surge of emotion—feelings of being trapped and deceived, and the resultant anger—came rushing up, and she blurted, “Me too!” She retreated behind another sip of her cocoa, and Pyroshi, likewise, sipped his espresso.

“Are you seeking guidance, then?” he asked after the silence stretched too long for comfort.

“I didn’t know how to say it. How to ask…” Addie trailed off.

“I’ve only known you for a very short while, Ember, but I find myself appreciating your company. I’d be honored to teach some of what I know. I’m not an expert, and I’m not particularly talented, at least compared to some empaths I’ve met from outside the district, but I can get you started down the right path, I’m sure.”

“You’d do that? Is there something I could pay—”

“No.” He waved his hand. “I was mentored by a good man when I was a child. He taught me a great deal, but he held some extreme beliefs—a few of which I still follow to honor his memory. Let me see if I can recall one of his lessons.” He paused momentarily, staring into the gray sky, then said, “Ember, if you had a pet—say a cat—would you donate it to Boxer for testing?”

Addie’s brows drew down into a scowl. “No!”

“And if they offered you ten thousand bits?”

She shook her head. “Still no.”

He nodded. “Now, suppose I came to you and said, ‘Ember, my niece is dying from a terminal disease. She’s always wanted a cat. Is there any way you could let her borrow yours to comfort her in these final days?’ What then?”

Her scowl softened, but she was still frowning. “I’d consider it. I’d want to meet your niece.”

Pyroshi smiled, nodding. “I believe you begin to see my old mentor’s point. He taught me that if you had something to give, something to share, you should do so freely, so long as the recipient is deserving. If they aren’t deserving, then money shouldn’t change your opinion.” He laughed, watching Addie’s face as she processed the statement. “Obviously, this cannot work with everything in our society. How will you pay for your dwelling, your equipment, or your food? You must sell some things, but that which you value most should never be for sale.”

The words resonated with Addie, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She still wasn’t sure she agreed with what Pyroshi said, but she liked the idea. As a one-time aspiring journo, she could appreciate the concept of not being for sale. Hadn’t she refused some paydays when it came to the Royal Breeze situation? “Well…” Addie shrugged, smiling. “He sounds very wise.”

Pyroshi nodded once, sipping his drink. “He was—wise and kind. Well, Ember, I told you I have to leave the district for a few days, so I’m afraid our first lesson will have to wait…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes as he clearly contemplated a sudden thought. “Unless you’d like to start right now? I still have a little time. I could find something for you to practice while I’m away.”

Addie leaned forward in excitement. “I’d love that!”

Pyroshi set his cup down on the bench beside him and nodded. “Talk to me first, then. What do you do with Dust? What have you done to develop such a signature?” He tapped his forehead to remind Addie what he meant by signature.

Addie answered without hesitation, “I have a Dust-tech drone. I’ve had it most of my life—it was my grandmother’s.”

“A drone?” He rubbed his chin, contemplating. “Tell me about it. Tell me how it feels when you connect to it. When did you first do so?”

“Well, um…” Addie licked her lips, fidgeting with her cup, suddenly nervous to be on the spot. This was what she’d wanted, right? Someone who knew more about Dust, someone willing to listen to her and explain what she’d been experiencing her whole life? With a deep breath, she gathered her thoughts and began, “I can’t remember a time when the drone wasn’t part of my life. My grandmother died before I was born, but many of my earliest memories involve my mom telling me stories about her. She used to take the drone out and put it in my lap while she read to me, and I can remember feeling a connection to it even then—even when I was barely old enough to walk.”

“Now I’m beginning to get the picture,” Pyroshi whispered, nodding. “Go on.”

“I must have been four or five when my mom first noticed the drone hovering—instead of sitting on my lap, I mean. She was very excited and made me look her in the eyes. I remember her calling my dad and telling him to look into my eyes, too. They acted like it was a big deal that I was controlling Dust-tech at such a young age, but I didn’t understand why. Honestly, I still don’t. Everyone can connect to Dust-tech, right?”

He nodded. “To one degree or another. If they could see the Dust in your eyes, though, it might have been exceptionally bright—another indicator of sensitivity.”

“Well, it continued from there. I liked the connection to Humpty—that’s what I call the drone—and I would beg my mom to let me play with him as often as I could. I learned to make him fly, to get him to follow me, and to open his camera ports. The more time I spent with him, the easier it got to look through his cameras—”

“More than one?”

“Yes.” Addie nodded. “I can see through all four at once. I know it sounds impossible, but they all sort of merge in my mind into a panoramic view.”

“And can you function while you’re doing that? Do you have to lie down?”

“No, I can still walk and talk, and whatnot. My own vision becomes sort of like peripheral vision. If I’m just moving slowly in an open area, I can get by. If I’m crossing the street, I need to pay attention to my eyes.” Addie giggled at the mental image of herself dodging cars.

“Well, and you must be around twenty now?” He chuckled. “Forgive that question, I just mean to say you’ve been channeling Dust with your drone for a long time—fifteen years or more.”

“It’s fine. I’m actually going to be twenty-three soon.”

“And when you connect to your drone, do you feel like your awareness, your sense of self, is moving over to it?”

“A little bit, yes. Not really moving, but stretching. Like I’m reaching out and opening another set of senses.”

“I’m sure you’ve come to realize how unusual your talent is by now, right? Most people who operate Dust-tech require a PAI capable of interfacing with the Dust engine in the tech. They have no awareness of it.”

“You mean they couldn’t operate a drone without such a PAI? I don’t think that’s true—”

“No, no, you’re right. With practice, anyone could find their way through their Dust matrix and into a device like your drone, but they’d have to be concentrating the entire time, and the things they could get it to do would be very limited.”

Addie thought about how Tony had acted the first time she’d taken Humpty out of her backpack. He had been impressed, hadn’t he? She smiled at the memory. “So do you think it’s just because I’ve been doing it since I was a little girl?”

“I think that’s part of it. I also think you have strong potential, regardless. The volatile Dust in the Blast rolled some lucky dice when it got hold of you.” He folded his arms as he leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee again. “I’m pleased that we met, Ember. I think I’ll gain much from working with you to develop your talents. Have you managed to do anything else? Anything not related to your drone?”

Addie hesitated, but she wasn’t sure why. She’d already decided to trust this man. Maybe the decision had been subconscious at first, but she was feeling more and more comfortable with him, and it wasn’t the way she’d felt with Zane. She didn’t feel charmed or manipulated. He was genuine; she could just feel it. “I can make electricity with my Dust.” She held her hand open, palm up. “I can make it come out of my hands.”

“Ah, yes! That’s the first thing I learned, too! Can you do this?” He held out his own palm, and a few seconds later, a small blue flame appeared, dancing and flickering from one side of his palm to the other.

Addie, delighted by the display, clapped her hands and leaned close, wondering if the flame was warm—it was! “No! How do you do that?”

Pyroshi shook his hand, and the flame flickered out. “When you send the Dust out through your palm, you just push it straight out, right?”

“Yes,” Addie whispered, breathlessly awaiting the man’s next words.

“If you twist it into a simple braid, it will be fire when it emerges instead of electricity. This is the foundation for most Dust-work—making the Dust into patterns causes it to manifest different effects. Not everyone can make every pattern. Some of the patterns are very complex, and even the simple ones present challenges for certain minds. I can form a pattern that allows me to duplicate my image—a flickering projection of myself. It’s a very complex one, but somehow it just clicks into place for me. On the other hand, I cannot, for the life of me, form the pattern to manipulate gravity.”

Addie was more than intrigued; she was fascinated. The manual she’d gotten from Madeline didn’t mention patterns at all. “But, like, where do you make the patterns?”

Pyroshi shrugged. “Some people build them in here”—he touched his chest—“before pushing them out into the world, and others manipulate the Dust outside their bodies. It’s a matter of what’s comfortable for you. Have you ever tried manipulating the Dust in your body, aside from pushing it out as electricity?”

“I’ve been trying to learn how to fade. I, um, pull the Dust out of my reactor and smooth it out around my body. I mean, at first it was just my hand. I didn’t have enough Dust to cover my whole—”

“So, when you try to fade, you just make it into a flat layer?”

Addie nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’ve had some success?”

Addie shrugged. “A little. I can fade, but I can’t move, and it takes all my Dust…” She trailed off when she noticed Pyroshi’s grin and the way he was slowly shaking his head, bemused. “What?”

“The fact that you managed to fade without forming the Dust into any sort of pattern. It’s incredible. I don’t know how to fade, by the way. That’s one of the patterns my brain just can’t wrap itself around. I have it, though—the pattern. I’ll share it with you, but not yet. I have just the thing for you to work on while I’m out of town.” His eyes unfocused, and Addie could tell he was looking at something on his AUI.

“What is it?” she asked, too excited to be patient.

“A series of exercises my mentor made me learn. Dust manipulation exercises. You’ll need to learn to weave and bend the Dust—to pull it into threads that you can layer and fold. This set will start very simple, but it gets more and more complex until, I promise, even you will be pulling your hair out and cursing my name!”

Addie felt her cheeks getting warm. “Even me?”

“Yes, even a talented young phenom like you.”

“Phenom?”

“Come, Ember, you must have sensed there’s something special about you.” He blinked and focused his eyes on her. “There, I’ve sent the file to your message address.” He picked up his empty cup and stood. “I’m sorry, but that’s all the time I have. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’m back.”

Addie stood, too. “In a week, right?”

He nodded. “Hopefully only six days.” He held out a hand, and Addie was quick to grasp it, clasping tightly. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you too, Pyroshi. Thank you for helping me.”

He nodded curtly. “I couldn’t say no.” With that, he released her hand and turned to walk away, leaving her standing there, wondering at the luck that had brought them together.

“Not luck, I guess—Torque.” She suddenly didn’t begrudge the fixer the favor he’d made her commit to. “JJ? I got a file from him?”

“Yes, Addie. It’s a video file and quite large.”

“Good! Um, where’s the van? Set me a course to it. We need to tell Tony about this!”