The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2) Ramona Finn (fiction novels to read .txt) 📖

Lock looked thoughtful. “I don’t—”

“And up ahead, that tall building—” Elli nudged us toward a great fang of a thing, jutting up through the clouds. Despite its shape, it looked friendly, its heavy oak doors flung wide. Tables nestled in its shadow, set up for chess. Several games were in progress, and another about to start. “That’s the library,” said Elli. I gaped, confused.

“That whole thing’s full of books?”

“Mostly, yep.” Elli smiled. “There’s computers as well, and a café if you’re hungry, but mostly, it’s books.”

“And anyone can read them?”

“That’s what they’re for.”

I shook my head, baffled. I remembered Jasper mentioning a library, back at Ben’s camp. I’d pictured something small and cozy, a few shelves, a chair or two. This building was massive. I couldn’t imagine there being enough books in the world to fill it.

I glanced at Lock and saw my bewilderment reflected in his eyes. Ona seemed to have lost interest and was admiring a stand full of necklaces. She took one and held it to her throat, then hung it back on its peg. She’d bought some bracelets already, I noticed. Both her wrists rattled with them, plastic ones and metal ones, silver and gold. I looked away.

“You’d need a map,” said Lock. I blinked.

“A map? For what?”

“For that library. It’s huge. Everything is.” A shudder passed through him, and he frowned. “I thought I’d scored my folks a mansion in the Stars. Next to our place up here—next to any place up here—I know they’ll still love it, but...”

“I know.” I tilted my head back, stared at the towers till my head swam. I wondered who lived up there, what they thought of us Dirtbags. If they thought of us at all, or just basked in what they had. You wouldn’t need to think, up here, not if you didn’t want to. My first night, I hadn’t slept. I was too entranced with my phone. I’d played games, played music, just played till the sun came up. I’d forgotten, almost, how scared I was, and every time I’d remembered, I’d found an orange to fling or a bubble to bob, a little blip on my screen to let me know I had a message.

“Now, Ona and Lock, you’ve been here for your update, but Myla, if you look past the fountain, that’s Lazrad Corp headquarters.” Elli pointed down a side-street at a slim silver tower. I squinted, surprised. It didn’t look any different from the dozen towers around it. Still, I started toward it, eager to explore.

“Can we go in?”

“By appointment only, I’m afraid.” Elli moved to block my way. “We can visit the aquarium, though—or…you like birds, right? There’s an aviary in the garden district where they don’t clip their wings.”

“I want a pet,” said Ona. “Can we get one for the house? I saw dogs back there. I like the black ones.”

“No dogs,” said Elli. “It’s a shared house. But we can check out some pocket pets if you’d like.”

“What’s down there?” I veered down a narrow alley where the shops stood huddled close. Washing hung on lines between balconies, fluttering in the breeze. Potted plants bloomed in doorways and smoke rose from outdoor grills. It felt homey, I thought, a place I’d fit in. Or at least, come closer to fitting in.

“Not that way,” said Elli. “That’s just houses. Boring.”

“But—”

“You can explore that way any time. But the pet shop’s back here.”

I followed reluctantly, lagging behind. Now that the shopping district had lost its novelty, I found myself distracted by the backstreets. I caught glimpses of neighborhoods not so unlike my own in the Dirt, gray little apartment blocks and tacky neon signs, old bikes chained to lampposts with their baskets full of junk. My heart leapt at the sight of them, so eagerly it hurt. I felt home in my bones, and I wanted to run to it. Ona’s voice, sharp with impatience, cut through my reverie.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’m getting a spider.”

“Do that, and I’ll squish it.” I jogged to catch up, head pounding from the sun. The sweetness from my ginger foam had turned bitter on my tongue.

“I’m getting a hope chest,” said Ona. “Filling it with presents for two years from now. Mom and Dad can look through it and know I was thinking of them the whole time.”

A train shot overhead with a long, tortured shriek. I forced a smile to keep from joining in.

We explored every day, me and Lock and Ona. Sometimes Elli joined us, but mostly she didn’t. We had maps on our phones, but we followed our senses—a lovely voice sang to us, and we pursued it through the city. We searched through shops and blind alleys all the way to the opera house, but we hadn’t bought tickets. The doorman barred our way. Ona held up her phone, recording the singer, and she preened like she’d won something.

Our noses led us to cafés and food stands, odd little restaurants where you cooked your own lunch. We were always hungry. Food was sold everywhere, but only in morsels, two bites of dumpling in a nest of spun sugar; a delicate skewer of roast eggplant was gone in three bites.

Lock led us to a park, drawn by the spill of red flowers from some high, wanton vine. We found it full of commerce, ten tokens for a boat ride, twenty for a horse-drawn carriage. The horses disturbed me, the way they clopped up from behind, butted your shoulder with their big, bristly muzzles. One of them huffed in Lock’s ear and helped itself to a tuft of his hair. Ona paid for a ride anyway. Lock and I opted for a boat, and we rowed out to the middle of the lake.

“It’s quiet here,” he said. “But loud as well.”

I nodded. I knew what he meant. The Dirt never slept, one shift melting into the next. Industry clanged on and clanged on,