Torqey sat on the stoop of a boarded up doorway. She knew the best way to find out about an area was to stop and watch. Across the street, not too far down, was an alley. The flow of people in and out of that alley intrigued her. Was this a drug outlet, or a place to get food? She couldn’t tell just yet.

 

A car passed her, dragging her attention away from the alley. The car pulled into the lot of a restaurant that was almost directly across from her. She knew the average person wouldn’t even notice it. To Torqey, it carried a red flag of irregularity. The person didn’t have their lights on.

 

She knew all cars had driving lights. In fact, any car manufactured in the last fifteen years had automatic driving lights that the driver couldn’t turn off. And even though it was early afternoon without a cloud in the sky, all the other cars passing her had their headlamps on.

 

Torqey watched the person park. She could already see the restaurant doorman watching. If the person parked then walked away, not going into the restaurant, then the doorman would call a tow truck. Parking was such an issue in the city that businesses only allowed patrons to park in their lots. They quickly towed offenders. And the tow was just to place the car in the street where it would get ticketed and towed again. She had heard that the cost to pay a parking ticket was steep because there never was just one.

 

A man in a suit with no tie stepped from the car. He closed his door, then did another thing that Torqey found interesting. The man locked his door with a key. He didn’t use the click of a fob, but a key. No one did that unless the fob system wasn’t working.

 

A modified car, Torqey thought, feeling giddy. Finding a modified car made her feel she had chosen the right part of the city. She wondered where he had it done. And if they were hiring. She knew how to work on cars, or more specifically, she knew how to modify cars.

 

The man eyed the area, including across the street. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Torqey gave him an appraising eye.

 

Based on his car, she could tell he was taller than herself. His eyes looked dark, but they could have been any color from this distance. Even his hair looked dark because he stood in the shadows. However, she could tell he kept himself fit, which didn’t match his car. People who actually owned and drove cars tended to be paunchy or obese.

 

He gave her a wink. She returned his wink with a smile. He then headed toward the restaurant. The doorman greeted him and opened the door for him.

 

Torqey turned her attention back to the alley. She watched a bedraggled man get turned away. Even she could tell this was an undercover policeman.

 

“Damn, nighthawk,” she said under her breath.

 

No one dressed that badly or looked that filthy. Even people like her. Because if you did, the cops picked you up for a free ride and complimentary night in jail.

 

“Nighthawks must be having a slow day to be hunting for miscreants.”

 

She chuckled to herself, thinking that the only people who actually dressed that badly were the police. That made her wonder if the police had ever arrested an undercover man in disguise.

 

“If you’re looking for people like me, good luck. We know how to blend in.”

 

She mused over her fate in life. She didn’t feel like she was poor. Or even needy. Despite she had few belongings and no place to call her own, she lived well. She knew if she told a typical person how she lived, they would assume she was a vagabond. However, most would believe she was lying. People didn’t believe there was such a thing as vagabonds in this city. The city had conquered the homeless problem. Or so they told everybody. They just pretended the problem didn’t exist.

 

She watched the bedraggled man leave down the street away from her. A man exited the alley to follow him.

 

“You’ve got a tail, nighthawk.”

 

She watched him disappear, because keeping track of the police and being aware of one’s surroundings were crucial when you were an Unie, like herself. An Unie was an unregistered person. To live in this city, Villebystadt, the largest city on the continent, one had to be registered. Unies called registered people Regs.

 

Regs didn’t believe in Unies, because unregistered people didn’t exist. That also meant Unies couldn’t rent an apartment, buy a car, or buy anything for that matter. Paper money, although not illegal, yet, wasn’t accepted by many businesses. You had to have electronic currency, which was available on bracelets. But you couldn’t get a bracelet unless you were registered. Torqey had one, but she had found it. And it didn’t work. It was just for looks. It did its job well by making her invisible to the police. She looked just like all the other upstanding citizens.

 

Torqey figured out the people who went into the alley and then reemerged were the same people. There were some people who went in and never resurfaced. That meant they went out the other end. She could either go around the block to spy on that end to see what the people were getting, or just trot across the street and go see. They would either turn her away or let her in so they could case her out. And since she had nothing of value to steal, she was worthless to rob.

 

She hopped off the stoop, but had to wait for traffic to clear before she jogged across the street. With confidence, she approached the man who she knew was the gatekeeper, like the doorman of the restaurant. Except he decided who entered or not.

 

“Well, hello, cutie,” he said with a smile.

 

Torqey thought he looked like an insurance salesman. He wore a suit, including a tie, and had boxes with brochures piled around him. She knew it was all for looks, and to help him block the entrance into the alley.

 

“Well, well, aren’t we cheeky,” she said, returning his smile.

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spied another woman trot dangerously across the street to join them. Someone honked their horn at her.

 

“What’s your door fee?” Torqey said.

 

“Three dollars and fifty cents,” he said, nodding to the other woman.

 

“I got that,” Torqey said. “And how many brochures do I get?”

 

He laughed.

 

“I got the exact change,” the woman said. She dug out three ones and continued searching in her purse.

 

Torqey flash two dollar bills, which were all she had. He waved her into the alley, only pretending to take her money. She knew it was all for show, because Unies didn’t use change. It was too hard to carry around. So if you had some, then you weren’t a Unie.

 

Torqey knew asking about a door fee was the Unie’s way of asking for access. She only flashed her money because of the other woman, who she suspected might be another nighthawk.

 

Torqey heard her complain behind her.

 

“But I have the exact change.”

 

“Just a joke, lady. This here alley is just for the locals to keep them safe. Go on your way.”

 

Torqey focused on a woman standing by a trash bin ahead of her.

 

“Hiya. You’re new around here,” the woman said in greeting, keeping her voice down.

 

Torqey knew this was another gatekeeper, just to make sure the first one had done his job. She knew she had to validate her credentials, or in her case, the lack thereof.

 

“Just moved over from Sugar Crest.”

 

“That’s not a bad area. What prompted the move?”

 

Torqey also saw the sensor that was checking her currency bracelet. She could already see the red light that showed it didn’t work.

 

“Three brothers. They’re making a name for themselves that I don’t want to share.”

 

“Rebel risers?”

 

“Stupid criminals. A couple of Yeggs.,” Torqey said. “Jabbing testosterone. Trying to claim territory.”

 

“What are their names?”

 

“Axle, Rim, and Rod.” She knew she didn’t have to give a last name because there wasn’t one. Unies didn’t need one. And most parents gave their children names of things. Her name was really Torque, as in a torque wrench used to fix a car. Fixing cars was her dad’s specialty. And she was the only one of the four kids to get his ability and his love for cars. And the story, as she heard it, is he got to name all the kids.

 

“I heard of them,” a man said who had joined them. “I think two of them are in jail.”

 

Torqey recognized him as one of the people who kept coming and going out of the alley. He was part of the gatekeeper system.

 

“Then they must have put another one in,” she said. “I only knew Axle was in.”

 

“Is he the fat one? Or the tall one?”

 

She knew that was a qualifying question.

 

“Axle is the oldest and the most stupid,” she said. “He’s the tallest. And the leanest. The other two are huskier. More gopher than henchmen for their older brother. All brunettes with hazel eyes except for Rod. He’s the only one of us with blonde hair and brown eyes. We joked his father was the postman.”

 

The man smiled and walked away.

 

Torqey knew she had given the right answers.

 

“Do you cook?” the woman said, leading her down the alley.

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“I mean, do you have a pot?”

 

“No, I only have utensils and a plate.”

 

“Carrot. Give this girl a pot,” the woman said to another. “Do you have any skills?”

 

“Auto mechanic,” Torqey said, wondering if this was for a swap or trade.

 

“No one here has cars,” the woman said. “I’m Chandelier.”

 

“Know anyone hiring?”

 

“You like to work?”

 

“I like cars. My dad reared me up on them. I have to do him proud and keep it going in the family.” Actually, she had no idea where her dad was. He had left when she was twelve, and the rest of her auto mechanic education after that was from her own trial and error. She was now twenty-three.

 

“Funnel might be a good one to talk to,” Chandelier said, handing her a paper bag.

 

“Where can I find him?”

 

“Junkyard. Take a left out of the alley. First junkyard you see is the place.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The woman, Carrot, handed her a small pot.

 

“You just need clean water. Fill half the pot. Empty the bag into the pot. Let it simmer for thirty minutes,” Carrot said.

 

“Thanks,” Torqey said, leaving the alley, surprised there weren’t more people manning the place. She suspected they had an area inside a building, but hadn’t shown it while she was there, thus why they had her in and out so fast.

 

She turned left as instructed. City buildings were all she could see ahead of her. High rises blocked most of the sky, but the sun was shining between buildings. The junkyard could be just on the next block, or fifty miles away.

 

She sighed and stopped long enough to put the pot and the bag into her own bag, which she fastened around her waist instead of wearing it as a backpack. A quick jiggle of the paper bag before she put it away told her it contained dry ingredients. She suspected beans. Now all she had to do was find water and a place to cook.

 

“Like I’m gonna find a place for a fire around here.”

 

Building fires out in the open where she came from was a quick way to go to jail.

 

“I need to find a kitchen or an unoccupied building,” she said to herself.

 

Torqey stopped by a trash can to score an empty plastic container. A block further, she thought she saw someone with the same type of paper bag, so she followed him. That scored her water from a woman watering plants with a hose.

 

While she continued to walk, she gawked at some of the storefronts to see what they were selling, and almost ran down the man that she followed.

 

“You’re new,” he said.

 

She realized he had slowed down on purpose to talk to her, since she hadn’t tried being discreet while she followed him.

 

“Yeah. From Sugar Crest.”

 

“Do you have a bag?”

 

“Yeah. It’s going to be tough eating it dry. I don’t know of any kitchens around here.”

 

He nodded. “I’ll show you the kitchen. What’s your name?”

 

“Torqey. And yours?” She knew to be courteous.

 

“Pencil.”

 

“We don’t have many kitchens. Places just handed out food either already prepared or finger-ready,” she said.

 

Finger-ready just meant raw, like fruits and vegetables.

 

“We cook a lot here,” he said. “Chefs put together pretty good bags. Keep your bag. You’ll always find someone willing to fill it.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

They traveled the next six blocks. The sidewalks were busy, but sidewalks usually were. She always thought it was the smart people who walked. Why fuss with a car that was impossible to park or where your own parking space cost more than an apartment to rent? Besides, people who walked looked healthier.

 

Torqey found the blocks longer than in her old part of the city. She paced one out and decided they were almost a quarter mile each. At least that was something she could use to gauge distance.

 

“You’ll need your bag out,” he said, when he paused them in front of a building.

 

Torqey thought it rather appropriate that the sign over the door said Kitchen Apartments. She took out her bag. Pencil led them through the door, which wasn’t manned by a doorman. They walked down a long hallway and back out into a courtyard.

 

“What a lovely kitchen,” Torqey said, realizing it was the courtyard that had a gatekeeper. She figured Regs probably lived in the building, but Unies had taken over the courtyard.

 

“This is Torqey,” Pencil said to the gatekeeper. “She’s got a pot for you.”

 

“Thank you,” the woman said. She took both their bags and dumped them into an enormous pot, then returned the bags.

 

Torqey folded hers up and put it away. She followed Pencil to sit at one of the many picnic tables where they watched the people cook.

 

A pot that she bet could hold three or four people was attended by the gatekeeper. Whenever someone came in, she addressed them, then took their bags to dump into the pot. Another woman stirred the pot with a huge paddle.

 

At another table, two men with cleavers hacked at what Torqey thought looked like the remains of a half side of beef. When they had cut up a plateful, one carried it over to dump into the pot.

 

“Beef and pork are the more popular,” Pencil said in a quiet voice. “Chickens tend to be seasonal based on the people running the farms. Old hens that don’t lay eggs any more become soup. Otherwise, the city thinks all birds carry the flu.”

 

Torqey shrugged, knowing only the high-end grocery stored carried chicken. “Food is food. I’m not fussy.”

 

“That’s a good thing,” he said.

 

Some children skipped through the area. Torqey felt herself relax. Everyone was an Unie. And everyone seemed at ease.

 

“How often do they cook?” she said.

 

“Every afternoon. You’ll always find one good meal. And if you have skills, you’ll always have a place to stay.”

 

“I have skills.”

 

Others joined them. Torqey knew they just wanted to get to know her. And she willingly answered their questions. She knew the more people she got to know, the better.

 

“Yeah, you just need to talk to Funnel,” was what she kept hearing when she said she worked on cars.

 

But no one would or could tell her how far the walk was to find Funnel.

 

“He’s just down the street.”

 

She knew she was already a few miles down the street from the alley.

 

A wave of stiffness flowed through everyone. Torqey looked up to see the same woman who had tried to go through the alley when she did.

 

“Oooh. What is this?” the woman said.

 

“Sorry. Private party. Do you live here?”

 

Torqey watched two women take the defense by half pushing and leading the woman out.

 

“Stupid socials,” Pencil said.

 

“I thought she might be a nighthawk,” Torqey said, knowing he meant someone from Social Services.

 

“Naw. Socials usually are female and well dressed. But they always smell of plastic and hospitals.”

 

Torqey chuckled. “How can you smell her from here? I smell beef simmering.”

 

“I can see how she smells,” another woman said.

 

Torqey had to agree the social had looked too sterile and institutional.

 

“She was at the alley where we got the bags,” Torqey said.

 

“Yeah, we’re tracking her,” Pencil said. “If she snoops anymore, she’ll find herself in a real bad part of town.”

 

“Just listen for sirens,” someone else said.

 

“Is that the signal to get out of here? And if so, where is the nearest exit?” Torqey

 

“No, we don’t have to leave. Since she’s been here, they’ll lock and man the door like a proper registered facility. And sirens just mean she overstepped her welcome and ran into a fist. By the way, does that work?” Pencil pointed at her bracelet.

 

“Nope.”

 

“If Funnel likes you, he might get it working for you. It helps to have one that works even if you can’t use it.”

 

“You mean if it sends out the signal?” she said.

 

Pencil nodded.

 

Torqey thought the city officials were pretty stupid. Anyone could steal or get fake currency bracelets. Yet, the city used them as proof you were a Reg.

 

When people lost their bracelet or had one stolen, they were supposed to disable them and/or disassociate them from their bank. That was something they could easily do from a phone. But money paranoid Regs usually loaded money onto the bracelet, then disassociated it from their bank, which caused a problem. When the bracelet ran out of money, the Regs thought the bracelet had broken and thus tossed them. Torqey figured that was how she found hers. Someone had tossed it away after it ran out of money.

 

And if they lost a bracelet or it got stolen, Regs ate the loss of whatever money was on it and got another. So even having found a stolen or lost one, which you couldn’t use, Torqey knew she could still use it to pretend she was a Reg.

 

“The smartest thing they ever did,” Pencil said with a laugh. “Making that the only proof you’re legal.”

 

“You mean for us,” she said.

 

He nodded. Everyone at the table laughed.

 

“They rely too much on the technology to do their job for them,” another said.

 

Torqey nodded.

 

Women skirted around, handing out the meal. Torqey got her pot back full of soup. She felt pleased to find many chunks of beef as well.

 

“When you’re done, you can leave your pot here. They’ll remember,” Pencil said.

 

Torqey ate the entire pot. While watching another person drinking their soup, she saw they had marked the bottom of the pots with names.

 

The cook separated herself from the preparation area. Pencil slid aside to make room for her.

 

“I’m Tulip. Glad to meet you.”

 

“Torqey.”

 

“Everyone knows who you are. Are you any good with electronics?”

 

“Depends on what it is.”

 

“Old circuit board. It keeps shorting out,” Tulip said.

 

“Let me take a look. I may at least tell you what needs to get done,” Torqey said.

 

“Let’s go inside. The light is better. I can offer you a place on the floor for the night.”