Above the Clouds

Sarah sprinted down an alleyway, ducked behind some barrels and checked her gun. So much for keeping a low profile…even if she made it to Monument Island, there were bound to be guards crawling all over the place. This case was surely more trouble than it was worth. But Sarah found herself unwilling to give up. It wasn’t just the money either...she knew that girl needed her help. It was the only thing she felt certain of right now.

After loading more bullets, she inched forward and checked the alley. Clear. Best get moving again. She’d been tempted to drop the hook after one block. It wasn’t exactly weightless. Then she’d seen policemen flying in on those rails in the air - Sky-Lines, they were called. The hook attached to the rails and you could zoom along to anywhere in the city. Sarah suspected it had something to do with magnets and...well, that was pretty much where her scientific knowledge ended. Columbia was full of surprises. Flying gunships abounded - the Possession vigor had come in handy there, allowing her to turn the gun turrets against the Columbians, and an announcement system had informed all and sundry that the ‘False Shepherd’ had arrived just as ‘the Prophet had foreseen.’ Pfft. Easy to foresee something when it’s already here!

She leaned her head back against the wall and looked up at the sky. Who had really built this place? And why? Why break away from the world, and still bring the worst of humanity along with you? She bumped the back of her head against the bricks a few times, then stared down at her hands. They had blood drying on them, and not all of it was hers.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Sarah pushed her hair back behind her ears and listened intently. Maybe she’d actually given them the slip this time. She crept out from between the barrels and shadowed the wall until she reached the corner, peering around, then up. The angel was looming now, massive against the blue sky.
The Sky-Line curved above her head and across the street to the back of a restaurant. Maybe it was low enough to jump on over there.

She ambled out of the alley, hoping she looked like any old Columbia resident taking a turn around the block. One thing she’d learnt from experience - if you ran, you got chased. And sometimes that was half the fun, but sometimes you could walk instead, and they wouldn’t even notice you strolling away with their wallet. Sarah smirked to herself. Not that she did that anymore. Hardly.

She whistled a little tune as she reached the steps to the restaurant. While she had been leading the coppers on a merry chase, she’d ran past one of the gondolas - small flying ships that appeared to serve as ferries between islands - that had a barbershop quartet singing on board. The tune had been unknown to Sarah but it was catchy enough. How had it gone…? God only knows what I’d be without you, she sang under her breath, then shook her head. She’d put a foot on the bottom step when she heard a voice.

“Hey! Hey you!” The shout came from down the block and Sarah ignored it, as if she couldn’t imagine why someone would be shouting at her, and kept mounting the stairs - then ducked as shots rang out. Oh, bollocks. She drew her pistol again and chanced a peek over the bannister. There were a lot of uniforms advancing on her. Slowly, though, as if they didn’t want to get too close. She sidled back down the stairs and peered around the balustrade, took aim and fired one-two-three pause one-two-three. Always shoot in threes , she heard a voice in her head say, more likely to hit, easier to keep count of your bullets . For a second she stared into space. Who had told her that? Then more bullets whizzed past. She heard shouting, stopped her leg from jittering, and fired again. A few of the police had gone down, the rest were gesturing and pointing.

“Bring in the Fireman!” a voice yelled. Sarah looked around her barricade and stared in disbelief at the approaching figure. It wore a kind of thick padded suit with metal parts, with - she squinted - some sort of container on it’s back and pipes glowing red coming out of it. It almost looked like a suit of armor - if the armor was full of fire. She could feel a breath of hot wind and the air now had a faint smoky smell. A voice bubbled and echoed out of the metal mask covering the face.

“The Prophet condemns you!”

Sarah was sure she could see flames escaping from the narrow slit where the mouth sat. How are they even alive? The figure moved it’s hands and a fireball came racing towards Sarah. Her eyes widened and she ducked back behind the stone bannister. Flames splashed on the street and over her head.

Bloody hell! She remembered the vigors on sale at the fair...but surely they didn’t turn you into this. Oh, right, the vigors...she concentrated and her hands glowed green. Moving quickly, she ducked upwards and sent a faint green shape flying at the ten or so police that were left. She’d found out it worked on humans as well as machines, and now she saw one of the police shudder and jerk upwards as she was Possessed. Then she turned her weapons on her fellow coppers, and the crowd quickly dwindled as they fought amongst themselves.

That left Sarah with the Fireman.

More fireballs arched overhead, and roars echoed as they missed their target. The air was hot and dry now, and she wished for a drink of cool water. A hand reached for her flask, then froze as she heard the crackling voice cry out again,

“It burns! It BURNS! Let me out!” Then there was just screaming and it was coming closer. Oh shite.

Sarah swung out, still crouching, and fired. At this range she couldn’t miss. And she didn’t. The Fireman fell to the pavement, flagstones cracking under the weight and heat. Sarah edged closer, pistol at the ready. The figure was still mumbling in short bursts.

“Release me from this pain….this torment.” The gloved hands clawed at the mask. “Can you hear me, Prophet?” One hand reached towards Sarah. “I beg for mercy. Mercy!” There was a high-pitched whining noise, and instinct told Sarah to run.

She barely made it back behind the bannister when the Fireman exploded in a roar. Flames rained down from the sky, and when Sarah peeked out again, the few small trees and shrubs in the area were also burning. The bodies of the police were scattered around the street, some in pieces, all on fire. She looked around at the devastation, thinking about how the Fireman had begged for mercy. From the Prophet? Didn’t they all work for the Prophet, this Sister Rachel? Had she done this to them? She ran her hand through her hair. It was shaking. This place...these people. It was all so horrible, and somehow horribly familiar. She couldn’t shake that feeling.

She needed to get off the streets for a while. She looked up at the building in front of her.

Sarah stepped through the doorway and softly closed the door behind her. There was no key, or bolt, so she dragged a chair from the cloakroom and wedged it under the handle. She peered through the gauzy window coverings and saw no movement. Right then. She looked around. It was a fairly fancy place, the kind of place she could never afford to eat in, and would probably get kicked out of even if she could. Trying not to think about what she had just seen, Sarah walked stiffly past the cloakroom, down the long entrance hall and into the dining area. Lush carpet overlaid with patterned rugs, round tables with small glass lamps in rich jewel tones, a gleaming wooden bar that was being further polished by a -

“We have company,” said Robert Lutece as he wiped the cloth over the wood.

“We do indeed,” agreed Rosalind Lutece from her position in the kitchen doorway.

Sarah turned around and strode back out through the archway she’d just entered, stopped, kicked a chair hard enough to send it flying at the wall, then spun around and walked up to the bar.

“WHY -” she shouted at the pair, clenching her fists at her sides, “ - ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?”

Rosalind sniffed. “ We were already here.”

“Why are you following us ?” queried Robert, continuing to buff the bar.

“Bloody hell,” Sarah sputtered. “Forget it. Just...forget it. I’m going out the back way.” she pointed, “ and you two can just stay here and keep being useful .” She packed as much sarcasm as she could into that last word, and strode towards the kitchen. Rosalind looked amused, but said nothing, standing aside as Sarah swept past. She and Robert exchanged a glance, she raising an eyebrow, he giving a slight shake of his head.

“Hmm, perhaps you’re right.” Sarah heard her say. “Will it affect the result, do you think?”

“It’s hardly an experiment if we don’t experiment a little .” Robert’s voice grew fainter.

Don’t wanna know, don’t care she muttered angrily, swiping an apple from a box and biting into it viciously. How can they just… The back door slammed shut behind her and she looked up at the skyline, rubbing her forehead. The Sky-Line stopped right here. She went to step forward before realizing she’d exited onto a sort of porch, with a drop over the end that went all the way down. Leaning against the back wall of the restaurant, she finished the apple and tossed the core over the side, eyeing the large hooks attached to the building floating next door. I wonder… she had to keep moving. There’d be more police along soon - that explosion wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. She raised the Sky-Hook up, ran at the edge of the porch and jumped out over nothing. For a second she was sure she was going to plummet like a stone, but instead she was pulled upwards and forward, the Sky-Hook latching onto the freight hook with a clunk. Sarah hung there, blinking, then saw the line of hooks ahead of her. My shoulder’s gonna be bloody sore tomorrow, she thought, then leapt again, and again, until she dangled over a wide, pleasant verandah dotted with shrubs and small metal tables and chairs under large umbrellas. She jumped again, this time back onto solid ground. Well, solid ground that was also flying through the air.

Sarah walked over to the simple wooden door that stood ajar, and listened. She could hear the faint sounds of music, and two voices holding a heated conversation. She frowned and slipped through the door, finding herself in a kitchen with a pantry to one side, a door to the other. She pushed it open carefully.

“Violence is not the answer! As much as I support her cause and her people, blood must not be shed.”

A woman’s voice countered with,

“What do you expect the people to do? How they treat them...it was bound to happen!”

The man’s voice grew louder. “Violence is not a foregone conclusion. If we can…” Sarah saw him enter the hallway, and his shocked expression as he saw her.

“It’s you!” He turned his head to address his companion. “The one they’re after…” He turned back to Sarah and gestured her to enter. “You can go out the side door, quickly!” She hesitated, unwilling to put her trust in any of these people. But a loud banging on the front door startled both of them and she quickly moved down the hallway and to the door he was pointing at, while his wife opened the front door and kept the police there chatting. She saw a large printing press and dozens of posters lying about, and craned her head to read them but the man thrust a scrap of paper into Sarah’s hand and opened the door.

“She may be able to help you,” he whispered as he ushered her out into the street and shut the door firmly in her face. Sarah looked at the hastily scrawled name.

Daisy Fitzroy. Who the hell was she? What else is going on here? She shoved the paper into her vest pocket and gazed around until she found the giant angel again. Down the block she could see where the Sky-Line started again, and headed that way. Two figures in blue entered the street, but facing away from her, and her shoulders tensed. She didn’t want to kill anyone else, not unless she had to, but they were between her and the Sky-Line. She kept walking, being careful to stick to the middle of the street where there were large leafy trees to cover her. When the two coppers turned a corner and disappeared, she relaxed a little. She found herself whistling that tune again under her breath, and grinned. Maybe this case would work out after all. Now she was under the Sky-Line and glancing around to check she was still unwatched, raised the Hook.

Let’s give it a whirl she muttered, and jumped.

The hook attached with a clank and Sarah felt herself suddenly zipping along at a fair speed. She looked down, and as she sped above the pavement, and then suddenly sky, wished she hadn’t. The world dropped away beneath her feet - she could see clouds, and other small city islands that oscillated below her. The wind tore at her hair and it streamed back from her face. Her eyes watered. Her feet dangled. It wasn’t exactly elegant, or even comfortable, but it certainly was fast. The giant angel was getting closer.

Oh shite. So were those crates on the rails. How do you get off this thing? Sarah asked herself out loud, bracing herself for the impact. As she sped towards the crates, she strained to lift her legs up into a sort of sideways crouch, and her feet hit the first crate, which swung and banged into the second crate. The chain reaction set the whole line of crates swaying back and forth, but they stayed attached. Sarah pulled on the Sky-Hook, and dropped onto the decking below quite easily.

Huh.

She looked around. She had landed on one of the gondolas, stationed at a dock. No one was around. A large sign told her that this was indeed the way to Monument Island. There was also a CLOSED poster plastered over the picture of the angel statue. All gondola travel cancelled! Tradespeople please access Monument Island via Sky-Line! Sarah shrugged. Right then. She walked under the crates until the Sky-Line was clear again and prepared to jump again as a loud humming noise came into hearing. She hesitated, looking around wildly, then her eyes widened as a massive Airship rose into view. Large trumpet-shaped speakers at intervals carried the voice of who Sarah could only assume was the infamous Prophet.

“I know why you’ve come here, False Shepherd,” Her voice was calm and controlled, the upper-class English accent surprising, and yet somehow not surprising at all. “I can see all your sins. Those you have abandoned. Those you have injured. Those you have slain. The lack of faith, the drinking, the gambling, the -” the voice hissed the next word, “ - fornication. And now you come here to steal the Lamb away from Columbia, from me .”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know me!” She shouted at the airship. “And I was sent here by the girl’s family! I’m here to take her home!” Her hair blew around her face and she pushed it back angrily.

There was a quiet chuckle from the speakers.

“Were you? There is so much you don’t know, Sarah.” Sarah froze. How does she know my name?  “And so much I have seen.” The voice rose again.

“Do you know why these people will die for me? Because I have seen the future in their glory, and hence they are content. I have seen the the glory of Columbia and where the Lamb will lead us. I have seen you , Sarah Manning, and let me tell you - some debts can never be repaid.” The Airship was close enough now for Sarah to look in the windows, and she could see Sister Rachel. The blonde woman in white stared back at her, a red-painted smile on her face, radiating confidence and authority, practically glowing against the dull metal of the ship. Her one silver eye glinted, and Sarah felt a flash of pain, raising her fingers to find a bloody nose.

The woman raised some sort of small radio to her mouth.

“The Lord forgives everything.” She nodded at something to the side, then continued in that clipped tone, “But I’m just a Prophet. So I don’t have to.”

Ropes flew down from various points along the Airship decks, and dozens of uniformed figures slid down them, landing on several of the other docks nearby.

Oh, bollocks.

Sarah ran towards the nearest rope, swinging the Sky-Hook around in time to meet the nearest soldier - and these were definitely soldiers - as his feet landed, knocking him off the dock. He plummeted down through the wisps of clouds, while Sarah grabbed the rope and started climbing. Her muscles ached. She could hear bullets whistling past her. As she reached the deck and pulled herself over, she saw Sister Rachel look at her and shake her head, turn, and sweep through the door behind her. Sarah scrambled to her feet and ran inside the airship, but by the time she made it to the door, it was locked. Another of the smaller Gunships lifted portside, and she saw a flash of white and blonde hair aboard it. She kicked the door in front of her, then ran to the door opposite, opening it to find the control room. It smelled of fuel.

Not a complete loss. I can fly this to the tower...use it to escape... she stared at the controls, frowning. There was a sound behind her and she spun around, gun ready, but saw only an unarmed woman in a white robe. She looked like the worshippers Sarah had encountered when she first arrived. She lowered the gun.

“It’s...I won’t hurt you. I just want to…” She stopped. The woman still had her eyes closed, praying in a whisper as she exposed the box of matches in her hands. The smell of fuel was stronger now.

“No!” cried Sarah, “Don’t -”

The woman smiled peacefully as she lit a match and dropped it at her feet. There was a whoompf sound and flames licked at her robe. She lifted her arms in the welcoming pose of the angel that Sarah could see behind her and the flames spread.

Sarah was stuck, horrified, then, as it grew difficult to breathe, she darted through the fire and back out onto the deck, running, chancing a glance back. The woman was completely engulfed in fire now and still utterly silent. Sarah reached the end of the deck and looked down. Shite.

There was only one way off and she took it.

As she fell through the air, body moving as if still running, she concentrated on the glint of sun on the Sky-Line and strained towards it. As the magnetic field caught and the hook attached, she closed her eyes in relief. Then opened them again quickly as she saw flames roaring against her eyelids.

She sped away from the now blazing airship, slowly listing downwards, and towards Monument Island. Get the girl, get out. Get the girl, get out, she repeated to herself, trying to block out the image of the woman calmly burning alive.

The entire city spread out below her as she sped along. There was still a sense of wonder in her as she looked down. Columbia looked so beautiful from a distance. Now she understood the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’. The Sky-Line swooped down, then arched upwards again, passing houses and gardens, businesses and markets. The fireworks still glittered in the distance against the endless blue sky. The angel was so close now. Sarah looked up, and up - it had looked huge from miles away and up close it was simply massive. It reminded her of the first time she had seen the Statue of Liberty when she had landed in New York. There was a building in front of it, two stories high, covered with smaller angel sculptures and dotted with elegant arched windows. There was another set of crates ahead and she brought her legs up, ready to brace herself against them. When she had swung to a stop, she carefully detached and fell down onto the large paved area below. A huge sign above her spelled out ‘MONUMENT ISLAND’ in hundreds of golden light globes. Stone steps led upwards to large wooden doors.

It was quiet. Sarah studied the building, ears cocked, but she heard nothing but the wind. Where were the guards? Surely there had to be some kind of security detail? Or had they been certain she’d never make it this far? Why even lock the girl up? Why was she so important to Sister Rachel? What did she have planned for Columbia and the girl? As she looked up at the angel, she realised there had been no portraits or photographs of the girl anywhere in the city. Sister Rachel’s smugly beautiful face had been plastered everywhere, as had the warnings about the False Shepherd, yet the revered Lamb was nowhere. Sarah wondered what she looked like and what her bloody name was.

She shook her head and trotted up the stairs. Surprised to find the doors unlocked, she shoved them open and found herself entering a courtyard, green lawn and flower beds around a fountain with no water, a path leading across to a wide ornate gate covered in signs reading CAUTION! CLOSED! OFF LIMITS! By Order of the Columbian Police Authority. Orange lights flashed. Sarah smirked to herself and scanned the top of the fence and gate, then climbed it in a matter of seconds. There hadn’t been a fence in the whole of Brixton that could stop her younger self climbing it.

More stairs, another door. Now she seemed to be under the angel itself. She moved through what seemed to be a locker room for the guards - who were nowhere to be seen. Or maybe for some sort of doctors? There were white lab coats hanging on hooks, and a modesty screen with ‘Columbia Science Authority’ and a symbol consisting of a key and a lightning bolt printed on it. The key...Sarah patted the satchel. She’d quite forgotten about it in all the running around. There were more signs - ‘SPECIMEN IS DANGEROUS Please Follow Quarantine Protocols ’ , ‘ DANGER! DO NOT APPROACH THE SPECIMEN !’, ‘ Past This Point 12 hour Quarantine - Approval: Columbia Science Authority.’

Sarah looked at them blankly. Specimen? Dangerous? What the hell was going on here? She’s just a girl! She pushed through another set of doors and entered a dimly lit hallway. Something - some type of machine - was sputtering sparks on one side, but she barely noticed, her eyes riveted to the chalkboard straight ahead. It was covered in diagrams, columns of numbers, drawings of the outline of a young woman, and labeled ‘Specimen Morphology’. Sarah’s forehead furrowed. She didn’t understand any of this. They were...studying the girl? Why?

She turned a corner to see more odd machines spitting sparks, and another doorway flanked by large signs that declared DANGER! DO NOT SPEAK TO THE SPECIMEN and PAST THIS POINT 72 HOUR QUARANTINE Approval: Chief Scientist Lutece . She stopped dead in her tracks. Lutece? But...if they were part of this whole debacle, why come to her at all? If they wanted the girl rescued, why not sneak her out themselves? What the bloody hell was going on here?? The more confused Sarah got, the angrier she got. She shoved the next lot of doors open, boots stamping on the tiled floors. She’d almost welcome someone to fight at this point. But there was no one, just empty rooms filled with scientific equipment, more warning signs, thick electrical cables that ran from room to room and down the hallway. One room contained a film projector that was still running, but to a room of empty chairs, most of which were overturned. Another was full of jars on shelves, and a smaller glassed-in room that contained a chair very much like the one that flown Sarah to Columbia. She scowled at it, and at the medical instruments that sat next to it.

Another set of doors opened, this time into a large room with a high domed ceiling.

WARNING Do Not Approach Siphon While Specimen Is Awake, a sign warned. A small chalkboard with a chart drawn on it, the line raising sharply on the horizontal was scrawled over with FACILITY UNSAFE. The desk below looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Behind the chalkboard, taking up the centre of the room, was a large raised round circle, in which was some kind of machine that Sarah had never seen the likes of. It was made of metal and glass, electricity playing over the surface, the zapping and hissing sound oddly familiar to her ears. Behind it were large round drums that seemed to pulsate with a sound she could barely make out. Some kind of...tune? But warped almost beyond recognition. She didn’t know what to make of it, so she kept moving. She didn’t bother reading any more of the signs. This place was creepy as all get out, and she was determined to just find the girl and leave as quickly as possible. There was another hallway, which ended in an elevator. Sarah got in, slammed her fist against the one brass button, and stood, her leg jumping. It was so quiet.

She exited into a strange narrow room, with a corridor leading off it. It looked rather like the confined space of a ship. Ahead of her was a lever. She touched her fingers to it, then shrugged, and yanked. Large metal plates slid aside and revealed a window into a - room? Sarah put her face up to the glass and tried to see if the girl was in there, but it was empty. Just a dresser, a desk, a board with some sort of word puzzle on it. She followed the corridor and came to another door, but this had a noticeboard titled SPECIMEN LOCATION outside it with a list of rooms, each with a small light next to it. Library, Dining Room, Dressing Room, Bathroom, Bedroom, Conservatory.

So...the girl lived here? And they observed her? Did she even know they were watching her, all the time? Would it be better if she did know? Sarah couldn’t even imagine. She’d kept herself well guarded, moved around a lot, valued her privacy. But this - this was sick .

The little bulb next to Dining Room lit up. Sarah moved, opening the odd metal door door, feeling like she was in of those submarine things she’d read about. She ran along a wooden pathway to the next door, burst in and found another room with metal plates covering a window. She pulled the lever and the room was exposed, and there she was. The girl.

Her back was to Sarah and all she could see was a mass of blonde curls. Sarah breathed out in relief - she’d started to worry that the girl would just vanish before she found her, that she’d be running down hallways forever. She bent forward to knock on the window, then hesitated. She didn’t want to spook the girl. She folded her arms and watched her move about the room. There was a painting on an easel, tubes of paint on a tray with several brushes. It was of London - Sarah recognized it immediately, the bridge, the clock...she must have copied it from a book. The girl stood in front of the picture, head tilted to one side, then she stepped back and made a sort of parting gesture with her hands, like she was opening a curtain. Sarah jumped and swore involuntarily as a light flashed and the space in front of the girl sort of - opened up - to reveal part of a busy street. Sarah’s jaw dropped open as she realised it was London. It looked grainy and somehow less colourful than real life, but Sarah knew it was really London. It was really there . As she gaped, a bus came barreling straight towards the gap, headlights making her blink. The girl jumped back and the tear closed. Yes , thought Sarah, that’s what it looked like - like a hole torn in the air.

While she stood there, stunned at what she had just seen, the girl left the room. Sarah still hadn’t seen her face. She ran down the next corridor, and saw the bulb next to Library start to glow. Right. She set off again, feeling oddly invigorated now that the end was in sight. The walkway tilted upwards now and Sarah suspected she was nearing the top of the statue. Another room, same as the last. Sarah pulled the lever and as the window was revealed, so was the very large library. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls, and two small flights of stairs met underneath a window, where the silhouette of the girl was outlined. Her fingers were touching the glass and her posture was wistful. How long has it been since she was allowed outside , Sarah wondered in horror. She touched the window in front of her, searching around the edges for a way in, but it was solid. There was yet another metal corridor, so she ran along it.

The next door opened out into the air, and Sarah was blown backwards by the wind.

“Bloody hell!” she shouted and gripped her coat around her, edging out onto the walkway and gripping the handrail. It seemed to lead around the exterior of the angel. As she rounded a corner, she saw the giant head of the sculpture and struggled up the stairway that ran along it. Finally she came to another door, and another, and then she found herself in a strange round room. The floor seemed to be attached by thick metal chains, and Sarah could see no more doors. She shifted and felt the floor move under her feet, and turned to leave but she was too slow, the floor gave way, tipping sideways. Sarah tried to grab one of the chains but it slid through her hands and she fell, wordlessly yelling. Luckily, it wasn’t that long of a drop and she landed with a thud on the carpet, crawling with desperate speed as she tried to avoid being hit by the falling debris. Rolling over, she groaned and opened her eyes to find an upside face staring at her in astonishment.

“Uh...hello?” Sarah mumbled. The face tilted this way and that, as if deciding how to react, then the mouth opened and a scream pierced Sarah’s eardrums.

“Huh.” She rolled over and tried to stand up, but was hindered by a book hitting her in the head. “Ow! What the -” Another book flew past. “Hey! Wait!” She got to her feet, crouching slightly in a vain attempt to ward off the next book that came hurtling at her. “Hey, quit it! I’m not gonna hurt you!” The girl paused, panting, blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders. Sarah straightened up and looked at her properly for the first time. And sat back down on the floor with a thump .

The girl had her face. She had Sarah’s face .

The two of them stared at each other in stunned silence.