(This is the first chapter of Ghost Stream, a novella that will feature in the collection Nexus, available through the current Kickstarter campaign. Click here for more details)

Chapter 1

The first Anchorite appeared in the Plaza overnight.

His dark grey coat, almost a cloak, hung loosely from his tall body, reaching down to a pair of scuffed boots. His hair hung past his collar, shifting in the slight breeze.

That was the only thing that moved. He stood stock-still, arms by his sides, facing the Oversight building that dominated the far end of the Plaza. His eyes were fixed on the second row of windows, at the small balcony in the middle, where the Primacy had his office. The building’s cold shadows stretched out, drowning the man, like it wanted to draw him forward into its old stone jaws.

Cass watched him from her seat in the cafe at the opposite end of the Plaza. She held the menu tablet the greeter had handed her, but she didn’t scroll through any of the options.

From this position, she could only see the back of the Anchorite’s head, and that was probably a good thing. She’d already pulled up the news channels and watched his arrival, and like most people, Cass found his face unnerving. There was nothing wrong with it, except that it was all so visible. It was what the news channels, and the Voices, focused on‌—‌he wore no Omni, and his eyes were uncovered.

The message icon flashed in the bottom left of her vision, and Cass tapped the arm of her Omni to activate. The words of the message ran across the bottom of the glass, telling Cass that Lacey was running late.

Not a problem. Cass could settle in to the wash of conversation around her. And while she listened, she pulled up the Voices’ channels on her Omni, each one scanning in a different colour across her vision.

The couple on the table to Cass’ left sipped their coffee, the bitter-rich aroma wafting towards her, as they discussed the Anchorite’s body. It was clear, they said, that he was well-built. Terpsie said as much‌—‌standing motionless like that took a great deal of physical control, and he must have trained. Cass checked Terpsie’s channel, and confirmed that the Voice had indeed broadcast those very words.

Diners behind Cass were discussing his face. Pomen’s channel suggested that, because the Anchorite was clean-shaven, it was clear they did use technology, and one of them wondered what else they were lying about. But someone else, taking their cue from Lip’s channel, argued that the Anchorites might shave with naked blades, like the throwbacks they were. They cooked over naked flames. Weren’t there always tendrils of smoke rising from their enclave? It was like Lip said, they had regressed to another time.

“C-Low says there’s trouble in the enclave,” a man at another table said. “Says he’s waiting for Oversight to open, then he’s going to petition for help.”

“Hart reckons he’s scared,” someone else said.

“Makes sense. You hear about the attack on the Wall? Supposed to have been a bad one. If they break through, the enclave’s gone.”

There was a pause from that table, and Cass joined them in consideration. The north of the Citadel was wild and rocky, which was apparently why the Anchorites chose that area for their enclave. Not many others lived up there. Cass had been once, and she hadn’t liked the place. Too harsh. Too distant, even though she could look south and see the rest of the Citadel. She hadn’t gone again, even though…

Cass shut her eyes, just for a moment. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on him. She needed to get on with her life.

“Lip says three protectors died in the attack.”

Cass pulled up Lip’s channel, scrolling through the updates until she confirmed that snippet of information. Although it wasn’t quite information, was it? More like speculation. Lip said she believed three protectors had lost their lives.

“But no attackers got through. Right?”

“That’s what they say. New-Turf’s rapping about a call for more protectors, though.”

Cass didn’t need to check New-Turf’s channel. He was always singing for more defences. She couldn’t decide if he liked uniforms or if he was secretly a coward.

“When did the monk turn up?”

“Check All-News. They’ve got footage.”

Cass had already watched that. The Anchorite appeared at the far end of the Plaza at 04:27 precisely, and Polly had called it an ill omen that the digits added up to thirteen. He climbed down from the walkway opposite the Civic Centre, with its grey glass facade, and strode across the smooth paving of the Plaza. He didn’t look left or right, ignoring both the Agency building and the Hall of Records, keeping his naked gaze on the Oversight building. When he reached a spot directly in front of it, he stopped.

Almost six hours later, he still hadn’t moved.

“He’s a freak,” a short man at a table to Cass’ left said, and the force of his disgust almost made her turn. “Pomen says Oversight should seal off the enclave, lock them all away.”

His companions muttered in agreement. “The enforcers should throw this one back where he came from, at least,” one of them said.

Cass looked up, only now conscious of how many enforcers there were around the Plaza. She spotted the usual pairs stationed around the Oversight building, and the couple by the Agency building. But there were more, in other doorways, their black full-body suits stark against the grey stone. They rested hands on their batons, and rotated their heads, scanning for trouble. Their Omnis were shaded, their eyes hidden, and Cass wondered what extra details they were scanning.

Lacey had dated a guy who’d gone through basic enforcer training, but had flunked the psyche test after the second week. According to him, they could pull up info on anyone they looked at, automatically. Age, job, address, even health status and credit balance. He hinted that some of them were connected to the Stream-space, and they could tell which Voices you followed most closely.

Cass knew they could access the Stream-space. She’d seen them on a couple of occasions. But she couldn’t believe they did that while on duty.

And she couldn’t believe that Oversight would move against the enclave. Much as the Anchorites upset people, there was an uneasy stand-off around the enclave. The Anchorites didn’t bother the Citadel’s true citizens, and Oversight didn’t encroach on their land.

“Hey, Cass!”

Lacey swirled in, all smiles and bouncing hair. The hint of red she’d added a couple of weeks ago had faded to a more subtle shade that made people look twice. She took the menu tablet from the greeter, and it didn’t escape Cass’ notice that she brushed one finger along his hand as she did so. Some things never changed.

“New Omni?” Cass said. “Tru-Sight Five, right?”

“You like?” Lacey ran a finger along one of the thin arms and around the edge of the glass. The microfiber frame was almost invisible, and the glass seemed to hang in the air in front of her face.

“You got it set to magnify?”

Lacey grinned, her eyes wide. “Targeted on my irises. The server said it suited me. Said I had the perfect face for this model.”

“Looks good.” And, of course, Lacey was a sucker for flattery.

“You ordered yet?”

Cass shook her head. “Waiting for you.”

“Always so kind.” Lacey grinned, and waved a hand in the air. A young server was by their side in an instant, and Lacey’s hand was on his arm. She leaned in to give her order, then Cass gave hers‌—‌a coffee and a pastry.

“You already eaten?” Lacey asked.

Cass shrugged. “Don’t want to have too much. Not with this meeting.” She looked across to the Agency building. It wasn’t as imposing as Oversight, but it was in shadows at the moment, and Cass felt a chill run down her spine.

“You’ll be fine.” Lacey tapped Cass’ hand. “It’s only a review, right?”

“Something like that.” It would take too long to explain. A summons to see Paxton was far more than a simple review. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be fine.” Cass forced a smile. “But I’m still not that hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Lacey handed the menu tablets back to the server. “An extra caffeine shot for my friend,” she said with a smile that sparkled in her eyes, although maybe this was the effect of her new Omni.

The server blushed and rushed off, promising to return with their order straight away.

“Cute,” Lacey said, eyes on the back of his trousers.

“Bit young for you.”

She shrugged. “Just looking.” Then she turned to Cass and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Cass struggled to hold her gaze.

“You’re still holding out for him,” Lacey eventually said. It wasn’t a question.

Cass did her best to look confused, and Lacey rolled her eyes. “Come on, girl! You think it’s not obvious? For months, every time you mentioned his name, you got this little far-away look in your eyes. And now you’re all quiet. When was the last time you came for a night out, Cass?”

Why should that make any difference? What was wrong with spending time on her own? “Last week. Remember?”

Lacey snorted. “That wasn’t a night out. One drink, and then you shoot back home. Wouldn’t mind if you had a fella you weren’t telling us about. But that’s not the case, is it?”

Cass waved a hand dismissively, and took a breath. “Too busy at work for anything like that.” And right now, she wanted to be cocooned in her pod, diving into the Stream-space.

Lacey didn’t speak for a while. Normally, this would be a blessing, but not today. Not when the Plaza was so much quieter than normal. And not when Lacey looked with such a concerned expression.

Lacey leaned in. Her voice was low and unhurried. “You miss him, don’t you?”

Cass opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then Lacey said his name. “You miss Morten.”

The Anchorite stood motionless, eyes unmoving. All around the edges of the Plaza, people shuffled, and talked, their murmuring washing over Cass like waves. A breeze rippled his hair, and now Cass could smell something spicy from one of the other tables.

Something touched her arm, warm and smooth, and Cass jerked back in her chair. But it was only Lacey’s hand.

“Don’t be like this, Cass.” Lacey’s eyes were large and round behind her Omni. “Don’t shut yourself off. You need to talk about it. I know what he means to you.”

Cass shook her head, and moved her arm to her side. “It’s not like that. There was nothing‌…‌he was my mentor. A friend. He helped me at work. I miss him, but it’s not what you think. We were friends. That’s all.”

The voice inside Cass’ head told her to stop lying, but she pushed it down. Lacey’s expression spoke volumes, and warmth rose in Cass’ cheeks. Yet she had spoken the truth‌—‌they were friends, and nothing more. A relationship would have made things awkward at work. And they’d never talked about taking it further. Not really. Not as anything more than a joke.

“Take it you haven’t heard from him, then?” Lacey finally said, leaning back in her chair.

“They don’t allow communication from the Wall. You know that.”

Lacey nodded, then shrugged and grinned, like she was in on some secret. Like Morten could somehow circumvent all the security. “Maybe he was the one to hold back the attack.”

“Don’t think that’s down to just one person.” But the image was a pleasant one‌—‌Morten, connected to something like the Stream-space, pulling up routines, writing code on the fly, guiding pieces on a virtual board to hold the enemy at bay.

“Depends.” Lacey glanced into the back of the cafe. Cass followed her eyes, and saw their server approaching. Lacey’s eyes travelled his body. “Right person, right place, right time.”

Cass was about to respond, but the server was too close. He balanced the tray in one hand, and his arm bulged, which probably excited Lacey but, judging by the slight shake in his hand, only showed how much he was concentrating on not spilling anything. And when he placed Lacey’s mug and plate in front of her, and Lacey offered a smiling “thanks,” his cheeks reddened and he looked away.

They didn’t talk as they started to eat. Cass’ pastry was almost too sweet, but the coffee took the edge off. With the hubbub of conversation around, Cass started to relax.

But not totally. Whenever someone in earshot mentioned one of the Voices‌—‌which was annoyingly frequent‌—‌she had the urge to double-check against the channels. She could justify this as background work, preparing herself for her work in the Stream-space, but the habit was starting to grate.

Morten had warned her about this. What was it he said, back when she started? Something about opening doors, and finding that they no longer closed properly. Something about opening her eyes to the truth.

But she didn’t want to bring up those memories. He’d been promoted, sent to the Wall. Paxton gave a speech, said how honoured he was that one of his team had been selected for such an assignment, and commented on Morten’s ability to see problems from unique angles. He said that the analyst would be sorely missed.

The next day, Morten’s pod was empty, and nobody mentioned his name again.

“He must be lonely.”

For a moment, Cass assumed Lacey was talking about Morten, but her eyes were on the Anchorite. From this end of the Plaza, he could be a statue, but when Cass tapped the side of her Omni to magnify, she saw the slight rise and fall of his broad shoulders as he breathed.

“Doesn’t look like it bothers him,” she said.

“Not on the outside. But he’s lonely. And he’s scared.”

“Scared?”

“Of course. Everyone knows the north is weaker.”

And anyone with half a brain knows that it takes more to attack in harsh mountains than across flat plains, Cass told herself. But not as many people lived to the north of the Citadel so it must be weaker.

“Hart says he’s petitioning for help,” Lacey continued, tapping her Omni to read anything new in the channel of her favourite Voice. “Says maybe he’s got a family, small kids. Hart reckons Oversight should listen to him.”

“But he’s not saying anything.”

“Not yet. He’s waiting for an audience. Maybe with the Primacy himself. That’s why he’s watching the balcony.”

Cass checked the channels. Yes, that was what Hart said. But Pomen said the Anchorite was playing mind-games, and that they’d developed telepathy. That was why they didn’t talk, Pomen said. They didn’t need to. And they could control objects with their minds, too.

That was a stretch, even for Pomen. Proof, if Cass needed it, that the arrival of the man from the enclave had set people on edge.

“He’s going to stay like that until the Primacy appears. And then, he’s going to go into the Oversight building, and he’s going to make a deal. The Primacy will do what’s right. Of course he will.”

As Lacey talked, Cass scanned the channels. Most of her friend’s words were from Hart, but there was a touch of Terpsie thrown in there too, and a smidgen of C-Low. Just enough variety to sound fresh.

But there was nothing to back up Lacey’s assumptions. Her words were nothing but whimsy. If her friend wanted to be a Voice, she’d need to deliver something more than fine phrases.

Lacey smiled at Cass, obviously impressed by her own performance. Cass nodded, out of loyalty.

Then she turned back to the statue in the cloak.

He wasn’t calling for help. Cass was certain of that. He didn’t look scared or‌…‌or anything. He simply was. Like his presence was enough.

The Oversight building loomed over him, as steadfast as the Anchorite, but with decades of experience.

What could one person do in the face of something so strong?

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