The Windup Girl

At least, he remembers her in fractured moments. He dreamed. Hallucinated. Yates sat with him for a time on his bed. Laughed at him. Pointed out the futility of his life. Peered into his eyes and asked him if he understood. And Anderson tried to answer but his throat was parched. No words could force their way out. And Yates laughed at that as well, and asked him what he thought of the newly arrived AgriGen Trade Representative coming to take his niche. If Anderson liked being replaced any better than he had. And then Emiko was there with a cool cloth and he was grateful, desperately grateful for any sort of attention, for her human connection… and he had laughed weakly at the irony.

Now he looks at Emiko through bleary vision and thinks about debts he owes, and wonders if he will live long enough to pay them.

"We're going to get you out," he whispers.

A new wave of shivering takes him. All through the night, he was hot, and now, abruptly he is cold, shaking with the freezing feel, as if he has returned to the Upper Midwest and freezes in those still cold winters, as if he looks out at snow. Now he is cold, and not thirsty at all, and even a windup girl's fingers feel icy against his face.

He pushes weakly at her hand. "Is Hock Seng here yet?"

"You're burning up." Emiko's face is full of concern.

"Has he come?" Anderson asks. It is intensely important that the man come. That Hock Seng be here, in the room with him. Though he can barely remember why. It is important.

"I think he will not come." she says. "He has all the letters he needed from you. The introductions. He is already busy with your people. With the new representative. The Boudry woman."

A cheshire appears on the balcony. It yowls low and slips inside. Emiko doesn't seem to notice or care, but then, she and it are siblings. Sympathetic creatures, manufactured by the same flawed gods.

Anderson watches dully as the cat makes its way across his bedroom and molts through the door. If he weren't so weak, he would throw something at it. He sighs. He's past that, now. Too tired to complain about a cat. He lets his gaze roll up to the ceiling and the slow whirl of the crank fan.

He wants to still be angry. But even that has gone. At first, when he discovered that he was sick, when Hock Seng and the girl had pulled back, alarmed, he had thought they were crazy. That he hadn't been exposed to any vectors, but then, looking at them, at their fear and certainty, he had understood.

"The factory?" he'd whispered, repeating the girl Mai's words, and Hock Seng had nodded, keeping his hand over his face.

"The fining rooms, or the algae baths," he murmured.

Anderson had wanted to be angry then, but the sickness was already sapping his strength. All he could summon was a dull rage that quickly burned away. "Has anyone survived?"

"One," the girl had whispered.

And he had nodded, and they had slunk away. Hock Seng. Always with his secrets. Always with his angles and his planning. Always waiting…

"Is he coming?" He has a hard time forcing the words out.

"He will not come," Emiko murmurs.

"You're here."

She shrugs. "I am New People. Your sicknesses do not frighten me. That one will not come. Not the Carlyle man either."

"At least they're leaving you alone. Kept their word, there."

"Maybe," she says, but she lacks conviction.

Anderson wonders if she's right. Wonders if he is wrong about Hock Seng as he was wrong about so many things. Wonders if his every understanding of the place was wrong. He forces away the fear. "He'll keep faith. He's a businessman."

Emiko doesn't answer. The cheshire jumps onto the bed. She shoos it away, but it jumps up again, seemingly sensing the carrion opportunity he represents.

Anderson tries to raise a hand. "No," he croaks. "Let it stay."

49

AgriGen people march off the docks. Kanya and her men stand at attention, an honor guard for demons. The farang all stand and squint at the tropic sun, taking in the land they have never before seen. They point rudely at young girls walking down the street, talk and laugh loudly. They are an uncouth race. So confident.

"They're very self-satisfied," Pai mutters.

Kanya startles at hearing her own thoughts voiced aloud, but doesn't respond. Simply waits while Akkarat meets these new creatures. A blond, scowling woman called Elizabeth Boudry is at their head, an AgriGen creature through and through.

She has a long sweeping black cloak as do others of the AgriGen people, all of them with their red wheat crest logos shining in the sun. The only satisfying thing about seeing these people in their hated uniforms is that the tropic heat must be awful for them. Their faces shine with sweat.

Akkarat says to Kanya. "These are the ones who will be going to the seedbank."

"Are you sure about this?" she asks.

He shrugs. "They only want samples. Genetic diversity for their generipping. The Kingdom will benefit as well."