Want (Want #1)
Cindy Pon
For Malinda Lo, who told me from the beginning that everyone loves a bad boy who plays with knives
Taipei in an alternate near future.
Mei: without; pronounced “may.”
You: to have; pronounced “yo.”
CHΔPTER ONE
THE KIDNAPPING
I watched the two you girls from the corner of my eye as the crowds surged around me. Eleven o’clock on a balmy June evening and the Shilin Night Market in Taipei was spilling over with mei shoppers looking for a way to cool themselves. Stores lined both sides of the narrow street, and music blared in Mandarin, Taiwanese, and English. The road was closed to traffic, overtaken by vendors with carts selling noodles and oyster omelets, cold juices and shakes. Others spread their merchandise on the ground over blankets, hawking cheap toys and knickknacks.
I slouched lower on the plastic table, faded black boots planted on a stool beneath, taking in the stench of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and sweat. I flipped my butterfly knife rhythmically between my fingers, enjoying the feel of cold steel and the sound of blade and handles snapping in my hand.
Men glanced at me warily, touching the places where they hid their own weapons. Girls clustered closer as they edged past, chattering. One mei girl, barely fifteen, raised her kohl-smudged eyes from her heap of chua bing smothered in red beans and smiled at me, electric blue bangs brushing against her lashes. Most teens were maskless tonight, wanting to have fun and pretend that they led lives from some other era, when going barefaced was normal. Pretend that they breathed good air.
The mei girl’s friend elbowed her and loudly uttered something about delinquent mei boys hiding their faces behind face masks. She cast a pointed glare in my direction. They sashayed past, legs bare beneath short, ruffled skirts, the friend with her nose in the air. Smiling girl’s pink mouth was now pursed in a pout.
“Hey,” I called.
She half turned, careful not to spill her iced dessert. Her black brows were raised, widening her dark eyes. I winked at her, spinning my knife, then tossed it in the air before catching it in one swift motion. She blushed, and her giggle carried to me even as her friend tugged her away, disappearing into the throngs.
But I never lost sight of the two you girls bent over a round tub, trying to toss plastic balls into floating dishes. The prize was a koi—genetically engineered to never grow beyond two inches—in iridescent oranges, reds, and greens. Hell, they probably glowed in the dark. The girls were flanked by three bodyguards, beefy mei boys with muscular arms crossed against their bulging chests.
I had volunteered to do this, because if I were caught, I alone would be prosecuted. I would be the only one to be put to death. My friends would be safe. They all had family, or someone who loved them. I was the dispensable one, and I would give my life to protect them.
A you boy strutted toward the girls, his features obscured by his glass helmet from this distance. We called them “bowl heads” in derision, as their helmets looked like fishbowls. His sleek suit was black, with an indigo dragon breathing orange flames woven down one long sleeve. The suit ensured that he got the best oxygen available, that his temperature was regulated, that he was always plugged in to the you communication system. The taller girl in the white-and-silver suit ignored him, intent on winning a koi in a jar, but her petite friend nodded to the bodyguards, and the you boy swaggered through.
I snorted under my breath.
They chatted, probably pulling up info on their com sys, assessing weight, height, and genetic makeup even as they exchanged first names. This was what it meant to be you, to have. To be genetically cultivated as a perfect human specimen before birth—vaccinated and fortified, calibrated and optimized. To have an endless database of information instantly retrievable within a second of thinking the query and displayed in helmet. To have the best air, food, and water, ensuring the longest possible life spans as the world went to rot around them.
Me, I’m like the other 95 percent of the meis in this country—without. We want and are left wanting. I’d be lucky if I lived to forty. I’m almost halfway there.
The you boy fiddled with his collar, then took his helmet off, handing it to one of the bodyguards with studied nonchalance. He coughed for a long time into his sleeve, attempting to adjust to the filth we breathed every day. What a rebel. Without his helmet, I got a better look at him. His blond hair was chin-length, streaked in red, his features Asian. He looked about seventeen.
He pulled a cigarette from a sleeve pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply, tilting his head to blow the smoke out. He leaned toward the petite you girl, his expression flirtatious. I watched as the taller girl threw them a glance, then turned back toward the tub. She was broad-shouldered yet slender, her suit decorated in neon pink lines with a jeweled Hello Kitty sewn above her heart. Real gemstones, no doubt. The way she tensed her shoulders told me she wasn’t pleased by the you boy’s intrusion.
I’d been studying the suits for my task. Victor had gotten his hands on all the relevant info. “You don’t want the more square helmets,” he had said, showing me images on the screen. “That’s an older model from two years ago. Any embellishment like jewels would be real. Nothing but the best for Jin’s suits. So the shinier the suit, the richer the you.”
Although the shorter girl’s purple suit was more eye-catching, the taller girl had probably $100K worth of diamonds stitched to her chest.
I tucked the knife away and retrieved two small items from a pouch strapped to my side. I wore a sleeveless black tee and black jeans to match. Not only did I blend in, but it allowed me to move with ease. I jumped off the table and stretched my arms overhead, flexing my shoulders.
Now or never.
I cut a quick path through the crowds, moving diagonally, thumping into others as they scurried out of my way. Steam rose from the pot of the chou doufu vendor stirring her spicy broth, and my eyes watered from the scent. I was behind the bodyguards within a minute. Their massive backs blocked me from my target. I tapped the middle one on his shoulder. He twisted, fists clenched.
“Move,” I said.
“What?”