The Rebel Code

Chapter Ten

In the evening, they dim the lights of the mall to mimic the natural light outside. Mo mentions something she learned in science class about how people were going crazy without change in the light levels, so they implemented this years ago. I wish she'd stop talking about people going crazy. I'd almost forgotten that I'm surrounded by metal walls on all sides, and likely will be for a good long while.

We have dinner at the buffet place, since it doesn't stress our leftover cash too much, and it's exactly what I needed. I pile my plate high with crab legs and fried rice, and we seek out a quieter booth in the back corner. John splurges and gets a glass of something sparkling and alcoholic to celebrate, dividing it into two cups to share with Mo, since the Business Province has a lower drinking age. Mo gives it a try, but eventually decides it's not too good anyway. She lets me have a sip. I can barely taste the bitter drink through the assault of bubbles.

"I'll start looking for a job tomorrow," says John. "In the meantime, I'll take Atticus a few floors down to see about finding bedding so we can actually sleep tonight. Oh, and this is for you two."

He reaches into his wallet and takes out more money, dividing it between Mo and myself.

"What's this for?" asks Mo.

"Clothes. I thought you might want something new. We certainly can't keep looking like a bunch of beach bums on such a wealthy floor." He smiles. "Myself included, but I'll see about that later."

The idea of going around in that massive store and trying stuff on is intimidating to me, but Mo is practically catatonic with joy. I know I've never been stylish. I've always just worn rubber sandals and whatever was clean, but Mo insists that she'll find me something perfect.

John and Atticus go to find an inter-floor transportation station, and Mo leads me into some colorful shop called Peitho, adjoining part of the casino Natcha was complaining about. The ceilings are domed and decorated with pictures of flying babies draped in silk, whatever that's supposed to represent. Somehow, among the crowds and chaos, Mo's able to grab an armful of shirts and weave her way into the fitting rooms to try it on. But the crowds are making my head hurt, and I need air.

Up an escalator is a quieter area of stores and little bakeries. The ceiling is lit up to look like a sunset, and fountains are bubbling peacefully. I use a little of my cash to buy a slice of cheesecake from a stand, and eat it a little bit at a time, savoring the flavor as I watch projections of clouds and birds pass overhead. It's not the real thing, but it's nice to look at.

No part of me wants to go back into the crowded store, so I have a look in the smaller shops in the little plaza. If I go back to Mo empty-handed, I'm definitely going to get thrown into a fitting room with her own selections for me, so I buy some comfortable black slacks and a cotton tank top. Then, on a whim, I buy closed-toed shoes for the first time I can remember. They're woven like sandals, but slip on as easy as slippers. The lady at the store even lets me cut off the tags after I buy and change in the fitting room, taking my old clothes in the plastic bag. I look myself over in the mirror before leaving, and I feel strange. I still feel like me, but I look like a Business Province girl. With the sudden change comes a hollow ache in my throat, like longing or maybe sadness. I guess I don't want to surrender myself to the mall just yet. That feels like giving up hope, almost. Like I'm never getting out of here if I start looking like I belong.

Instead of going to find Mo, as I probably should, I take another escalator into the other side of the indoor plaza. Big archways lit with golden light guide the way to a bar area, which opens up into a huge room. Everything is swirling and mesmerizing, from the big projection wall showing digital women in sparkly, feathery outfits, to the patterns on the carpet. There are big discs hanging from the ceiling like hovering alien ships, each covering a section of the room's tables with some kind of label. It takes me a moment to realize that I'm in the casino.