Chapter Text
“Out in the wilderness of the desert, Destroya is lost in slumber. His power is dead and he does not wake. But he can be revived.”
Kobra’s eyes were half closed as he lay in bed next to his brother, listening to Violet read her favourite account of the prophecy from her battered Graffiti Bible.
“When enough energy is taken out to him to replenish his charge, he will rise again. He will return to the Battery for the children of Destroya. Droids, those who have been faithful, those who have not forgotten his name.”
The light from the tatty lamp in the corner was dim, but it was easy enough to make out Violet. Her skin wasn’t a sandy colour like Kobra’s, it was porcelain white, and there was lots of it showing, since she always went out to work after she’d said goodnight to them. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, ghostly in the eternal light of the Lobby that filtered in through the window slats.
Her pop of purple hair, styled in the bob that all porno-droids were given, made curtains in front of her face as she read.
“When Destroya reaches the city, the abandoned Outskirts will be crushed beneath his feet as easily as a child steps on a sand castle.”
Kobra watched her stroke the page with her thumb, the gentleness of the gesture matching her voice, which always got soft and low when she read from the Bible.
“When he arrives, some will weep. They will not understand as we will, for we will know he has come to free us.”
The Bible was homemade, some pages bought or found, many filled with Violet’s own handwriting, pieces of story scribbled down as she heard them.
Kobra remembered the first time he’d asked why it looked so messy. Violet’s laugh, and her reply. It’s how we know it’s real, Kobes. Better Living don’t like imperfect. It’s not about what it looks like, it’s what it says that matters.
In front of him, Violet continued, her eyes never leaving the page. “His metal frame will glint against the sun, higher than any BLi skyscraper, and he will bring light back to the darkness.”
Kobra wondered, not for the first time, what it would actually be like if Destroya came to Battery City. The idea had always scared him a little bit. A huge metal droid who would crash his way into the city, tearing up everything in his way, didn’t sound like much of a saviour to Kobra. How could Destroya stamp BLi out of the city without crushing everyone living there as well? People like them?
He snuggled further into the blankets. Despite his misgivings, he still enjoyed hearing the stories. Mostly because it meant he got to spend time with Violet and his brother, Party.
“He will save us. The electric cage that has been used for so long to control us will be dismantled in his hands. The creator of BLi’s city will be its destroyer.”
Beside him, the lamplight threw shadows across Party’s freckled face. He was relaxed, eyes closed, but Kobra knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was listening, imagining Destroya at the city line, shattering the electric grid that encased the city and kept droids like Violet trapped inside.
“He will free us all,” Violet said, finishing the story.
She paused for a moment as the final words hung in the air around them. Then she closed the book, running a hand over the plain brown cover.
She caught Kobra’s eye. “Not tired yet?”
“No,” Kobra said, hoping she would stay longer.
The blankets shifted around him as Party stirred and propped himself up on his elbows. “Tell us a story about the desert now.”
Party always wanted to hear about the desert Zones.
“If you ask nicely.”
Kobra, however, didn’t want to be reminded of what was coming. He wished they’d talk about something else, though he could never bring himself to say so.
“Please?” Party begged. “The one about the killjoy city.” They’d been told the story loads of times before, but Party never got tired of hearing it.
Violet’s shadow danced in the lamplight as she pulled her legs up, and shifted so her back rested against the wall. Kobra pulled the musty smelling blankets up to his chin.
“Well,” she began, “in the Underground, people say that there’s a city in the Zones. As far away from Battery City as you can get, all the way in Zone Seven. They say that it’s an old town from before, repurposed and brought back to life. They say that it was founded as the base for a rebellion against BLi.”
Violet began to describe the city, looking past Kobra and Party towards the window. She described the buildings and homes, all painted in bright colours. The kids who laughed and shouted and ran about, not scared of being seen by BLi. She told them about how there would be gatherings where people danced, cried, and had fun. In the killjoy city people looked after each other, worked together, built their own lives.
Next to him, Party’s eyes were bright. His brother asked questions as Violet spoke, getting her to talk about things she’d never mentioned before.
Party wanted to know everything about the Zones, and what was in them. To him, it meant something. To Kobra, going to the desert just meant the end of their little family of three. Unless Destroya rose soon, which there had been no word of, Kobra and Party would be going to the Zones on their own.
It was what their parents had wanted. Had died for. Even the names Violet had given them were in preparation for life outside the city.
So really, Kobra had no choice, did he?
Once Violet had finished her story about the far-away city, Party chirruped, “Can we all live there, after Destroya comes?”
Violet smiled, her eyes twinkling. “We can live anywhere we want. The killjoy city, an old resort,” she laughed, “I’ll bet they have mansions out there from before the Helium Wars.”
“Mansions?” Party sounded equally confused and intrigued.
“They’re huge fancy houses with lots of rooms.”
The blanket in Kobra’s hands was all twisted up. “I don’t want to live in a mansion.” He just wanted things to stay how they were.
Violet patted his leg and smiled. “That’s okay. No mansions. I’m sure we can find a place we all like.” Kobra wasn’t exactly comforted, but he nodded anyway.
Violet shuffled off the bed. “Hey! We could start our own farm like those people in Zone Five who grow the sweet potatoes.”
She moved over to the bedside table, crouching to wedge the Graffiti Bible back in its hiding spot above a loose slat under the bed.
Party turned to her. “But I don’t want to be a farmer, I want to be a killjoy.”
“I’m sure you could be both,” Violet mused.
Party didn’t reply for a moment, thinking. Kobra sighed quietly, his cheek resting on his pillow as he watched them.
“Okay,” his brother decided as Violet straightened. “As long as we can plant mangoes too.” He turned and lent on his other elbow, looking down at Kobra. “What would you plant?”
Kobra didn’t want to plant anything. He wanted to stay in the Lobby and read the books Violet brought them, play tag in the playground with Party and the other kids in the sector. He wanted to keep sleeping in this bed, and keep studying the bits of electronics he found on street corners.
He looked down at the blankets. “I don’t know.”
“Lettuce? Cucumber? Pomegranates?”
Kobra scowled, about to tell Party to shut up.
“Tomatoes?”
But Violet beat him to it. “That’s enough Party,” she told him, “it’s time for bed now.”
Party groaned and flopped down onto his pillow. “One more story?”
Violet perched next to him. “No, you need your sleep, and I have to go.”
“You’ll be back, right?” Kobra couldn’t help but ask.
Violet leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be home by morning, just like always.”
“I wish BLi didn’t make you go out there,” Party grumbled.
The droid brushed Party’s hair away and kissed him too. “It’s not so bad when I get to come home to you two.”
Party gagged, wriggling out of Violet’s hold as she chuckled.
All Kobra could think about was how someday soon Violet wouldn’t be there to embarrass Party. She wouldn’t be able to tell them both stories. There would be no more hugs. Kobra and Party would go to the desert, and who knew how long it would be before they saw Violet again?
She’d be alone in the city, save for her porno-droid friends who always needed her help. Then there were her clients, the Scarecrows who she didn’t like, and who gave Kobra the creeps whenever he saw them.
He prayed to Destroya most nights, silently asking him to come before Violet sent them to the Zones.
The room darkened as Violet switched off the lamp, though Kobra could still see by the light filtering in from the Lobby. It made a pattern of stripes on the cracked, discoloured drywall.
Even in their room, the sound of the slums outside was a constant. People shouted, motors rumbled, ventilation systems whirred. It never stopped. Kobra wasn’t sure he’d ever even heard silence.
“Sleep well,” Violet murmured as she left the room, heading out into all that chaos.