Sweat and Smoke

The Green Thumb hideout stood just on the border between the abandoned levels and the habitable zone of the lower ring and, from the outside, looked like any of the apartment buildings surrounding it. It was covered in old graffiti, which had been plastered over with notices that all upper floors had been foreclosed due to lacking structural integrity, which had then been overwritten by new graffiti.

Buildings like theirs were common in those fringe levels—it wasn’t at all rare for a middle or upper-ringer to decide that their property was no longer worth the investment and let it fall into disrepair. With the toxic fog steadily encroaching, the necessary ventilation and structural investments surpassed anything the property would realistically pay back.

The Green Thumb members all had their rooms on the first floor—the only officially habitable one—but it was in the basement levels, the second of which had been added in secret, according to Ade, that they spent most of their time.

That second level, the lower of the two, housed the nursery, but it was on the upper basement level that Ray was on his hands and knees, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

“You did much better today,” Yves said, tossing a towel onto Ray’s slick back. The older man wore only a loose pair of shorts for their training, but Ray thought he could have worn a full ventilation suit if he’d wanted—he hadn’t broken a sweat.

“Were you really a cook before you went into hiding?” Ray asked as soon as his breath was under control.

It was hard to believe. Yves was broad in his chest and shoulders with arms bigger than Ray’s legs, and he was so damn fast. He hit so hard bare-fisted that Ray wasn’t sure how anyone could stand up to him when he wore his exoskeleton.

“A chef,” Yves corrected, “not a cook. And that was a long time ago. You’ve only been training for one week. By the time I’m done with you, people will be just as shocked to learn that you were a Harvester.”

“I’m not so sure.” Ray sat back onto his legs and attacked his sweat with the towel. The burning in his lungs had already begun to fade, but he could still feel the impact from Yves’s punches. Somehow, though, the blows had yet to leave a single bruise.

“I am,” Yves said, tossing Ray a bottle of twice-filtered water, “and so is Ade. We’ve been talking about your powers, what she’s been calling your Regrowth.”

“What does that have to do with my training?” Ray asked, speaking through gulps of water.

“A lot, and slow down on the water.” Yves took a knee across form him, sipping from his own bottle. “I’ve been pushing you hard, way harder than I would normally push a beginner, and you’ve been completely fine.”

“Fine?” Ray pointed towards his own bare chest. “I’ve sweat more in the last week than I have in the last year.”

Yves chuckled. “That’s what the towel is for, and it’s not my point. You sweat and you suffer, sure, but you also recover quickly. Just a minute ago you could hardly breathe, but now you’re just fine. Sweaty, but fine.”

It was true. Ray’s aching lungs had already recovered, and his aching body was following suit.

“Ade thinks, and I agree, that it’s not just massive wounds that you’re recovering from. Your body’s regeneration is constantly accelerated. That’s why you’re able to live in the abandoned levels without a vent-box or a mask, and why you’ve been able to get through this training without a single bruise or a moment of soreness.”

“What about my scar?” Ray asked. Instinctively, he reached over his shoulder to feel the hard flesh at the top of his scar and the brand above it.

“Well, that’s the big hole in our theory, isn’t it? Still, I don’t think that means we’re wrong. What if there’s a certain type of metal that creates wounds that even you can’t heal from, or a poison that got into the cut and acted against your ability?”

“Or maybe I just have an incredibly unique birthmark.”

“Ha!” Yves shouted, springing to his feet. “That must be it. Are you ready for another round, Mister Birthmark?”

“I can’t.” Ray tossed the towel around his neck as he found his feet. “Ade and I are making that special delivery, remember?”

“Of course,” Yves said, falling behind Ray as they walked towards the door. “How could I forget? Ade’s been very excited about it.”

“She has?”

Yves nodded. “I think she’s just happy to have someone her own age around. Living like we do, it’s easy to forget that she’s not much more than a kid. It can’t be good for her to spend all her time with old grumps like me and Watane.”

They emerged from the training room to find Ade, Watane, and Sylvia all waiting in the common area, huddled on half-circle couches that ringed a switched-off holovision table. The two women were leaning in to listen to Watane, who was dressed in filthy rags and speaking in between long drags of a cigarette.

“You’re back, Watane!” Yves trotted towards the couches, arms out, and the blind man held up a hand to keep him away.

“Don’t come near me until you’ve washed, Yves. I could smell you and the kid before I’d even entered the building.”

“I’m only trying to help with your disguise,” Yves said, faking a pout. “A little stench goes a long way for the vagrant costume.”

“Any news?” Ray asked, saving Watane from addressing the suggestion.

“I was just telling Ade and Sylvia,” Watane said, “and I’ll tell you too if you keep Yves on the other side of the room.”

Ray did so gladly, and Watane returned to his report. For the past week, he had been dressing in rags and wandering up and down Market Street, the lower ring’s main thoroughfare, eavesdropping on any conversation he could. The way he explained it, when he feigned destitution, he might has well be a part of every conversation around him. Nobody worried about a poor, blind man overhearing them.

“There was one main topic of conversation today,” Watane said, “and it isn’t good news for us. With the Centurial Celebration coming up, the city council is pushing to clean up the main roads for the parade. The presence of the Council Guards has nearly doubled, and the ORA agents are patrolling in greater numbers as well. I even heard an upper ring agent on patrol today.”

“An upper ring agent?” Yves asked, his eyebrows climbing high. “There’s no way the ORA is sending one of those this low just for the anniversary. They have to be after Sylvia.”

Sylvia took in the faces around her. “These upper ring guys,” she asked, “are they bad news?”

Every other head in the room nodded.

“They’re awful news,” Watane said. “I’ve never even heard of one patrolling the lower ring.”

Yves added, “In a fight, they would make the agents that we fought look like Ray, no offense. If you’d run into one of them at the abandoned factory, you might still have a cut up face, but it wouldn’t be attached to the rest of your body.”

“How do you know that they were an upper-ringer?” Ade asked.

“They were in uniform. I heard their uniform being described by some street cleaners who had never seen an agent with a crown in the center of their shield insignia.”

“In uniform? So, they aren’t even trying to blend in,” Ade said.

Watane shook his head. “I think they’re confident that they can use the increased enforcement surrounding the anniversary to sneak in their higher-ranking agents without putting us on edge. Either that, or they’re desperate to bring Sylvia in and aren’t willing to be cautious about it.”

“Is it still safe to go about our business?” Ade asked. “Sylvia has been as incredible as advertised—we’ve filled every crate in the nursery with fresh produce and I want to get it into hungry hands as soon as possible.”

“Safe? Certainly not, but we should still be able to operate in some capacity. Sylvia definitely can’t leave the building, and I would argue that Yves shouldn’t either. He stands out too much because of his size, and we must assume that our tusked agent gave a detailed report after their fight.”

“Ray was there too,” Yves said. “Are we sure it’s safe for him out there?”

“Ray’s build is exceedingly average,” Watane said, and it was his turn to tack on a “no offense.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ray replied. “Also, isn’t that the whole reason Ade buzzed my head? So I could go out?”

“You needed a haircut,” Ade muttered, “but yes, that was the main reason. How has the training been going, Yves? Is he ready to leave the nest?”

Yves clapped his student across his bare, sweaty shoulders. “Not if he’s planning on flying away, but I’m willing to let him escort you on a few quick deliveries.”

“And our hypothesis?”

“It doesn’t look like we were far off. I’ve had him working out three times a day for this last week, and he has shown little to no signs of fatigue.”

“He’s drenched in sweat,” Sylvia said with a twinkle in her eye. “Even if I lost my Growth tomorrow, I could water the entire nursery downstairs by wringing him out.”

Ray held his palms up to her. “That’s what I said!”

“You’re both right,” Yves replied, “and not five minutes ago he was gasping for air on the ground like I’d turned off the ventilation. I can push him to his limit quite easily in a singular training session, but that’s not the fatigue I’m talking about. As soon as he has time to rest, he recovers unbelievably quickly. For an untrained novice like Ray, the strength and combat work I’m putting him through should require at least a day of rest in between sessions, but he only needs an hour or so.”

“And his progress?” Ade asked. Her fingers were inching towards the holopad at her belt, as if she could barely keep from taking notes.

“In combat, he’s night and day, but a lot of that is because of how bad he was at fighting when I found him. As far a strength, well, you’ll have to run your own test for the specifics, but from what I can tell, his quick healing works the same as a natural recovery period. He’s made twenty-one days of progress in the last seven.”

“I’ll run them as soon as I can,” Ade said, retrieving her holopad and drumming her fingers against it. “We’ll do them all, Ray. Muscle density, lung capacity, you name it. I want to learn exactly how your body works.”

“Do you now?” Yves said, and Ade stopped her drumming and her eyes dropped quickly from Ray, who she had been inspecting.

“In a medical sense, you idiot,” she said. “You know how curious I am about his healing.”

“Don’t worry, Ade,” Ray said, “we all knew what you meant.” Still, he had felt a heat rush up the back of his neck, and it spread to his cheeks and ears when silence followed his reassurance.

Luckily, a crunchy cough from the far couch broke the silence, and Ade spun around to face Watane, who had ashed his first cigarette and was inhaling a second.

“Do you really need two?” she asked. “You’ve only been back in the building for ten minutes.”

“My cover doesn’t work as well if I’m smoking on the street, and I need to keep my wits about me.” Watane rolled the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. “You wouldn’t want me going out blind with all of the increased patrols, would you?”

“No, but I still wish you wouldn’t smoke quite as much as you do. Ray is the only one here with regenerating lungs.”

“Pardon my interruption,” Sylvia said, raising a hand, “and of course forgive me if my question is insensitive, but how could you not be going out blind? What exactly are you smoking?”

“I’m smoking clarity,” Watane said, wisps curling around his face as he exhaled.

Ade stepped in to explain. “It’s one of the plants from our bio-engineered section of the nursery. We call it clarity because inhaling its smoke will increase your senses and general cognitive ability for a short while.”

Everything fell into place for Ray. “So that’s how—”

“Yes,” Watane said, “that’s how I can hear your heartbeat. All of my senses are enhanced, including my smell, which is why I try to keep Yves as far away as possible when he’s been sweating.”

“Is that why you wear gloves, too?” Ray asked. “So you don’t get overwhelmed by your increased sense of touch?” When he’d first seen the planter of bio-engineered foliage, he hadn’t paid it any more mind than the others, but now he began to see their potential.

“No,” Watane said. “My gloves serve a different purpose.”

But Ray was undeterred. He turned to Yves and asked, “And that plant that you smoke at the end of the day, what does that do? Does it help with muscle recovery? Does it have a cool name too?”

Yves bust out laughing, and Ray noticed a smirk cross Watane’s face out of the corner of his eye. The big man clapped Ray across the shoulder again. “That’s called moss, and all it does is get me high. We have some other bio-engineered plants in our repertoire, but none of them get used very often. At least, not nearly as much as Watane uses clarity.”

“I should hope not,” Ade muttered, and Watane frowned at her.

“It’s hard to be your ears without it, Ade. All of the information that I just brought back is thanks to clarity. You may not like me smoking, but what it helps me learn is instrumental to our safety.”

Ade sighed. “I know that…I guess I’m just being idealistic again.”

“Never a bad thing to be,” Yves said, approaching the couch despite a warning grimace from Watane. “We need your idealism.”

“Not as much as we need Watane’s information,” Ade said. “I’m sorry for complaining.”

Watane polished off the second cigarette with a final drag and stood. “I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“Are you heading back out already?” Yves asked.

“I only stopped by to give an update before you all started making deliveries. The presence of upper ring agents worries me, so I want to keep an ear out.”

“Good luck, then, and stay safe.”

“Come home soon,” Ade said, and he was gone in a swish of filthy rags.

“I’m sorry if I restarted an old argument,” Sylvia said. “My curiosity got the best of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Yves reassured her. “That wasn’t the first or last time they’ll have that argument. You didn’t start anything.”

“It’s better for you to know anyways,” Ade added. “We keep no secrets among Green Thumb.” She turned towards Ray. “Which means, of course, that it’s time for you to tell me where we’re going for our special delivery.”

“Does that mean we can go?” Ray asked. “I’ll lead you to the delivery spot, but I don’t want to risk running into those upper ring agents.”

Ade smiled, and her cheeks warped the bottom of her scar as they bunched up. “We can go, just go shower and change beforehand. I don’t need you getting arrested for contributing to the Wastes.”

Ray was sprinting out of the room before her sentence was finished, all fatigue forgotten.