Zunoder tasted blood and gratitude at the sa ti. The two did not pair well. Gratitude was warm. Blood was honest. The body's reaction to both annoyed him enough that he had to press one hand against the stairwell wall and wait for Ty's ribs to stop leaning toward the open route.
Below him, the arena still roared. Above him, frightened civilians kept pretending they were not watching. Between both sounds, the wrong door opened on Earth. Only half an inch, but enough. Zunoder smiled with Ty's mouth.
The expression fit badly now. The Na Office had stamped him as face user, and the body had taken it personally. Muscles resisted small things. The left hand tightened when he tried to wave. The tongue cut itself when he said Jade. The eyes, hateful little traitors, kept watering whenever her laugh crawled up from old mory.
He would train them. Or remove what kept voting. A public crystal floated near the landing, cracked along one side from the earlier fight. It tried to show the official notice, but the signal stuttered between the arena stairwell and the basent on Earth.
Good. Stuttering looked like panic, and panic made people choose simple stories. Zunoder turned toward the woman with the noodles. She still had not run. Practical hunger had pinned her in place better than courage.
"You saw the notice," he said.
She clutched the paper bowl. Broth sloshed over her thumb.
"It said you are Zunoder."
"It said there are two claims."
"It said face user."
"And what do faces do?"
She did not answer. He stepped down one stair. Slowly. No threat yet. Threats were cheaper after pity opened the door.
"They let mothers find sons. They let soldiers identify bodies. They let sponsors print posters, widows hold photographs, children point and say that one, that one is mine."
The woman swallowed. Zunoder touched Ty's cheek.
"This face belonged to a man. Then a skeleton crawled out of him and the office decided paperwork could solve grief."
Soone behind the woman muttered, "That is not what happened." Zunoder looked toward him. A boy. Maybe sixteen. Arena runner vest, both knees scraped raw, eyes red from smoke or crying. Young enough to want the world to be fair. Old enough to be useful when it was not.
"What did happen?"
The boy lifted his chin.
"The skeleton saved people."
"So did I."
"You bought noodles."
"Hunger kills slower than blades. Slower does not an kinder."
The boy faltered. The crowd felt it. Zunoder had learned that about crowds inside Ty's body: they did not need to be convinced all at once. They only needed one confident person to hesitate. He softened his voice.
"What is your na?"
The boy's mouth closed.
"Smart," Zunoder said. "Nas are expensive today."
The public crystal flickered again. For one second it showed Earth: a school basent, water on tile, children behind shelves, Waddell forcing a door shut with his shoulder, Kieran's gold wire snapping around a man's wrist, Jade turning with blood dripping from her palm.
Zunoder's stolen heart pulled hard enough to make his fingers curl against the glass. He hated the body for that. He hated Ty more for making hate complicated.
Jade's face blurred in the crystal. Static had nothing to do with it. Ty's eyes rembered tears on her cheeks, snow in her hair, her mouth twisted before she laughed at sothing stupid. Zunoder bit down until pain cleared the image.
The woman with noodles saw him do it.
"Are you hurt?"
There. Pity. Thin, but real. Zunoder let the body sag against the wall.
"Yes."
The boy in the vest took half a step forward, then stopped himself.
"By who?"
Zunoder looked down toward the office under the arena.
"By everyone who found my body more useful split apart."
That was almost true. Almost true was a strong material. Pure lies cracked under pressure. The crystal above them stabilized. Public text crawled across the image.
FACE USER CONTEST WINDOW OPEN
EARTH PRIMARY RECOGNITION: PENDING
Zunoder reached up and touched the lower edge of the crystal. It burned Ty's fingertips. Good. Pain made the face look sincere.
"Jade," he said.
The word carried through the crystal and into the half-open ergency door on Earth. The basent answered with shouting. Waddell's voice ca first. "Close it!" Tyree cursed. Kieran said sothing sharp in a language the crystal refused to translate. Jade did not speak.
Zunoder disliked that. Silence ant she was thinking. He pushed more softness into Ty's mouth.
"Jade, please. I am still in here."
That did it. The body betrayed him again. The words scraped against so old vow in the ribs and ca out too honest. For one sick mont, Zunoder felt the possibility beneath the lie: a man trapped in himself, begging the woman who loved him to open a door.
The crowd leaned in. Earth leaned too. The half-open ergency door shuddered. Jade's voice finally ca through.
"Say one thing Ty would say."
Zunoder smiled. Easy. Ty's mories were full of useless little phrases, bad jokes, apologies, private scraps. He reached for one. The body stopped him. Not completely. Enough.
His tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. The stolen tooth socket pulsed where Ty had paid for the bone registration. A headache blood behind both eyes. The crowd watched him struggle. Zunoder turned the struggle into pain.
"He took pieces from ," he said.
Jade did not answer.
"The skeleton. The office. Your witness record. All of you keep asking which part is real while I am the one bleeding."
The boy in the runner vest whispered, "That makes sense." The public crystal caught it. Quietly. Clearly enough. Sowhere below, sothing stamped. Zunoder felt the number move before the words appeared.
EARTH PRIMARY RECOGNITION: 1%
The woman with noodles flinched as if the text had slapped her.
"I did not an to vote."
Zunoder gave her a tired, grateful look.
"No one ever does."
On Earth, the ergency door slamd shut. Kieran's gold wire sealed the gap. Jade's voice ca through, colder now.
"You are wearing his mouth wrong."
The body smiled before Zunoder allowed it. There she was. He touched the crystal again and let the whole stairwell hear him.
"Then co fix it."
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