MALIK AND TAYLOR WERE at the winches already. Big guys, both of them were firehouse volunteers and they were used to heavy construction work. They had taken the covers off two of the big winches. Taylor nodded to Joel.

Taylor would reach his full term in the next couple of weeks. The village would throw a huge party for him. Drinks, food, and music. Everyone in the village would turn out. People would dance and laugh. They’d all be there to celebrate his life. His friends would say how it all couldn’t have been better. That’s what people always said, but the atmosphere around a full term was never great.

At least when someone took early salvage it was fast. Whether it was through an upgrade or with an enduring domain program, it was very fast and they chose the timing of it. Hanging on right to the last minute seemed grim. It was tough on everyone around them. He must have been watching the date get nearer for a year at least. Maybe two or more.

Taylor had really stretched it out, too. Like he wasn’t looking forward to his productive recycling. He’d served three full tours in USMilCorps. Together they got him a full four years extension. That made him thirty-nine, after all. Even in the enclaves nobody got older than that. Not as far as Joel knew.

The last few hoists, Taylor had been more and more quiet. More withdrawn. Joel thought if he was so reluctant to let go, he ought to take more out of the time he had left. Spend it in things that made him happy. Not looking inward.

Joel looked at the winches to see which of the kites they were going to haul down. Number one, the nearest was flabby, so it certainly needed inflating. The other was the last in this barrage, number six.

“I saw you take a tumble off the road there,” Malik called over. “Not like you, Joel. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just distracted. Thanks, though Malik.”

“Glad you could rescue your board. That’s a slick piece. I wouldn’t mind a ride sometime.”

Joel smiled back. Malik was in his late twenties at least. He’d completed two terms of active service with USMilCom. He had an enhanced arm and shoulder to show for it and one side of his face was reworked in matte CarbN.

Joel asked him, “You know how to ride air?”

Malik shrugged. “You could teach me.”

“I wouldn’t mind some juice for the board while we’re up here.”

Malik laughed. “The most valuable juice in town? And while the whole village is here to clean the kites? How could that not go over well?”

Joel helped Malik to slot the handle into place for the winch.

Malik’s voice was quiet. “You were watching USSecur sneak into the village?”

Joel nodded. “Odd they come while most of the village is on their way up here.”

Malik’s eyes were serious. “They’re going to be waiting. Bound to be looking for someone.” Then he shrugged, “Could be they just happened to pick this time.”

Joel said, “And the day of the hoist? Doesn’t seem very likely though, does it.”

Malik’s head shook. “Nope.”

~~

Groups of villagers arrived, Joel knew all of them. Some better than other, naturally. He tied to seem nonchalant as he watched each one, looking for Honey among them. She was late. And she hadn’t responded to his oneline. Joel assumed that meant her mom was bringing her.

Sometimes her mom let Honey come on her own, sometimes not. If she came on her own, they would usually be able to work on the kites together. They would climb over the huge inflatables, she would smile when he had to help her. She would snigger at him, being too protective of one of the younger kids. Or of her.

If her mom brought her, it was a lot less likely. What her mom had against Joel, he never knew.

The short, round bot shook as it trundled, rattling out to the lot. A cyclinder a little more than four foot high, the bot showed signs of wear. It had a faint air of burned oil and it wobbled slightly.

For the hoisting, the bot controlled the drones flying each corner of the kite, keeping it level and facing into the wind. The big inflatable was slowly hoisted and nursed down until the gray underside hung just a few feet above the ground. Parked beside the winches, the bot guided the the wing down as Malik and Taylor wound the cables.

The village had only a few bots. This one was teachbot in Joel’s class, as well as repurposing for other civic duties. Out of school time, it was a police bot for USSecur.

Thinking of that reminded Joel of the drones entering the village. Malik was right. They were here for something, probably someone.

As the stronger men from the village worked to keep the cables neat around the number one winch, Malik and Taylor heaved on the cranked handles. Two men on each of the four steel cables held onto the thick sleeves to guide the cable onto the winch drum.

Adults helped guide the two thick, hot power lines and coiled them around wide capstans. Propellers were set along powerlines at three foot intervals. Teenagers unclipped the propellers as they came down and they handed them off to children to clean.

When it was low enough, three of the stronger men pulled out the hooks under the kite and hooked them onto the rails on the ground to tether the fat delta to the ground. The kite was under-inflated, so the hooks weren’t tight, but it wasn’t likely to break free. Hovering, sagging over the long grass, the collectors reminded Joel of a very old picture of a whale, stranded as it wallowed over a reef.

Joel went to the box at the winch housing. Kids, most of them around his age lined up and he shuffled along with the flow. He was distracted. Looking over his shoulder into the valley. Looking for Honey. Kids he knew from school and a few he recognized from the other Edges exchanged nods or waves of the hands with him.

In turn, each of them grabbed a belt. The belts carried tools, and had a rope attached with a strong metal clip on the end of the rope. Joel checked the clip on his rope to make sure it was securely attached. The clip was there to hold him to the kite. In case he slipped.

With the kite down to six feet off the ground, Malik and Taylor climbed metal steps and hung chain ladders off the sides of the kite. Joel followed Ty Bannon up one of the ladders. Two other kids from school went up each of the other ladders. The kite swayed. It was soft under their weight.

The first climb up onto the back of the kite was something Joel always looked forward to. He looked back and out across the valley, to the ridge on the far side. Past that the view stretched through the haze, over the tilted solar array and the windharvesters outside the valley. He could see all the way to the murky clouds around the silhouette of the dead city. He preferred not to think of it by name.

Grab handles ran over the kite’s top surface. They were made to hold onto as they scrambled up the stepways between the solar panels. In the ridge along the center were the secure rings to clip their ropes. Everybody put on their belts and attached themselves.

From the center downward, each panel had to be checked for wear or cracks. Then they cleaned each panel. Then they clipped the hand-held meters from their belts to the power terminals, they checked the power output. They’d remove any defective panels and clip them to the belt. If they had panels to replace, Malik would hand them up serviced or new panels to swap.

The sun was hot and the work was hard and steady, but Joel enjoyed it. He was the fastest in the village, scrambling over the humps of the kites, spotting and removing defective panels, cleaning the rest. He covered more surface than anyone else, so he always wound up with the most panels to refit.

Honey and her mom didn’t show up until the number six kite was nearly all the way down. They’d brought her little sister, Hannah. A bright eyed, pretty, and mucky faced kid, Joel thought she was too young to be at the hoisting. Honey’s mom seemed relaxed about it, standing close to Taylor and chatting.

When Honey clambered up onto the back of the kite, she hung on to a grab with one hand and she waved with the other. Her eyes flashed before her smile. Like a trailer for the feature. Joel’s smile lit as he waved back.

Then he saw Kier Mald’s sly grin following close behind her. Watching her work alongside Kier Mald made Joel’s morning less pleasant.

All the time they worked, Ty stayed close to Joel and asked him questions. He asked about the hacks and patches Joel made on sim jackets and gloves. And about the code. Joel didn’t want to tell him too much.

Ty was not a bad kid, but he wan’t super bright. He could easily say the wrong thing without meaning to.

Joel didn’t really want to talk about it at all. Everything he did was unCert. He could get into some serious trouble.

Ty asked him, “What about if a virtu was so real, if you died in a sim, you died for real?” Joel carried on cleaning the sunlight panel. “Could one of your mods do that?” Ty pressed on.

“I’m not sure you could say that anything that I do is real modding. Matter of fact,” Joel said, not looking at him, “I think I’m done with tinkering for now.

Ty was sullen. “You’re a hacker, Joel. I know it. Everybody says you’re one of the best.”

When Joel wouldn’t talk about his mods, Ty switched to chatting about the drones.

“You saw them coming in, right?” his voice lowered and his face lit up. “They’re coming for someone, right?”

“I don’t know, Ty. Probably.”

“What if it was me?” Ty’s voice lit up and his face beamed. “What if it’s something for USSecur. What if they need someone to do experiments on? Or maybe even something for the Gabriel? Something like that?” there was a faraway look in his eye. “What if it was me?”

Joel smiled, “Then you’d probably never be seen or heard of again.”

“Yeah. But I’d be famous.”

Joel chuckled, “For an afternoon, probably.”

“No. For a long time. People would say, ‘Where did Ty go? What happened to Ty?’ For months. Maybe forever.”

“While USSecur cut out all your bits and weighed them for their experiments?”

Ty’s voice faded and his eyes got a faraway look. “Yeah. Or they’d hand me over to the Gabriel.”

“Yeah. In pieces.” Joel shook his head. He couldn’t help smiling.

“It could be an incarnation. The Gabriel could be looking for a new incarnation.” Ty’s voice grew faint and he gazed into the distance.

“Ty, you need to clean that panel again.” He snatched the collector panel from Ty. As he cleaned it he felt bad. He didn’t have to be mean to Ty like that.

Handing the tile back, he said absently, “You have to be more careful.”

Joel had a bad feeling about the drones.