Chapter 5

V
Sky District

Cubi emerges from the hospital onto the straight, concrete streets of the Human Quarter. The gyrotaxi is still parked outside, the cabby with his head under the bonnet.

"Hi," Cubi says. "Are you taking fares?"

"Hello, friend!" the airphibian says cheerfully. "How's your lady doing?"

"Oh, well, okay, for now," Cubi answers sheepishly. He offers his phone to the cabby. "Do you think that you could get me to this address?"

The cabby takes the phone and squints at the little screen. "Sky District, innit?"

"I think so, yes."

"No problem."

Cubi looks at the open engine cover. "Are you having problems?"

"No, no. Just a routine check up." The airphibian extends his huge, webbed hand. "The name's Flibbertigibbet Mud, by the way. Flib for short."

Cubi takes his hand, and almost gets his own shaken off in the process. "Cubiform Judge," he says. "Call me Cubi."

Cubi's phone goes off in Flib's hand. "Call for you, I think."

Cubi takes it back and looks at the number. "I don't know who this is, but they keep calling me."

"Answer it," Flib suggests with a shrug.

"Not really in the mood to tell telemarketers where to stick it. Can you remember the address?"

"No need to. The only place in Sky District that a cabby can land is at the gyroport. And if they don't like the looks of you, they'll turn you away."

"I guess I'll just have to be sweet and friendly."

Flib laughs and climbs up into the cockpit.

*

The city's richest elite had wanted carefully mown grass beneath their feet, a blue sky overhead and clean air. So they got it the only way they could: by buying a giant floating island from the airphibians and tethering it over the rich residential district of Gutbred. The streets underneath the thing experienced a bit of a downturn, but the rich had a place to live in country mansions in the middle of rolling fields of grass, high above the crime and pollution of the rest of the city.

Flib drops Cubi off in the Sky District gyroport. He tries to hang around to see if Cubi makes it, but a private security guard in a black uniform with ridiculous gold epaulets waves him away. He shoots Cubi an apologetic look. Cubi waves back gratefully.

The guards look uncertainly at Cubi's grubby coat and long hair, but after several phone calls and much repetition of Perni's full name, Cubi is finally stuck in the back of an antique, opulently decorated car and ferried to the mansion of S. Redact.

*

"I know," a voice says, startling Cubi who had been gazing into the distance absently. "It's the horizon."

Cubi spins around to face a tall, slender man in a three piece suit. He is handsome, his hair painstakingly styled to make it appear carelessly styled. His young, almost beautiful face is a hard, golden mask. His hands are concealed in gloves of the same colour.

"The horizon is too low," the man says, his mellifluous voice carrying perfectly from behind its covering. "Of course. This is just a little island of rock and soil in the sky. We can't compete with a whole planet. Still, it does look unsettling at first. You get used to it. My name is S. Redact. You're Cubiform Judge, I know. I believe you bring me news from Ms. Blueberry."

"Yes," Cubi says, taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid that she - Ms. Blueberry has been hospitalised."

Redact clasps his hands behind his back. "Walk with me," he says.

Redact's mansion is a tall, white-stone building with a tall spire to it, like a church. Close to its base is a large conservatory overflowing with plants and flowers. The windows are large, and the roof is adorned with countless aerials and dishes.

Redact walks away from his mansion, slowly, across the grass. Cubi follows close by. "Cubiform, the deadline for Ms. Blueberry's project is only three days from now, so I know that she can't have been far from completion. I would be prepared to extend her contract by a week, perhaps two. But no more. This matter is somewhat time sensitive."

Cubi speaks shakily. "I think, as a matter of fact, that Perni - Ms. Blueberry isn't going to be able to complete the contract at all."

Redact has crested a small hill. He stops, hands still clasped behind his back, his three-quarter length coat billowing back in the wind. He says nothing.

Cubi steps up after him. "She's enormously upset about it. If she could do it, she really would. She can build the most amazing things. I think it's just that she can't this- Whoa!"

Cubi is on top of the small hill - except that isn't a small hill, but rather a ridge running around the edge of Sky District. Ahead is nothing but blue sky and lumbering grey clouds; below: the rest of the city, kilometres distant.

Redact grabs Cubi's collar in a gloved fist and pushes him forward until he is directly over the city below, only the tips of his shoes still on Sky District.

"I've spent twelve million rupees on Ms Blueberry's project." Redact says. "I was assured that she could produce unparalleled work in unparalleled time with unparalleled ingenuity and the lowest cost. I relied on this for a key aspect of my finances for this new year. I have a thirty two million rupee business plan dependent on it."

"Now," Redact says calmly, lifting Cubi further forward, his toes scraping closer to the edge. "I expect that Ms. Blueberry will have completed her project within one week, or, perhaps, you will find forty or fifty million rupees as compensation for me? Or am I expected to just drop things without notice?"

"No, no," Cubi says, struggling to keep his toes in contact with the edge. "Don't drop anything! I'll speak to Perni, we'll figure something out!"

Redact pulls Cubi back, releases his collar and pats it back down. "Good man," he says.

Cubi falls backwards, dropping down the small hill onto the grass below and rolling onto all fours, reluctant to stand lest he somehow fall over the edge.

Redact throws a business card onto the grass by Cubi's hand. "My contact details," he says. "I'll arrange a gyrocopter to take you from here to Hive Central. You can make your own way from there. I noticed that you used an airphibian gyrocabby, by the way. Very bad form. They never look after their taxis. If it breaks down in mid-air, they can just fly off, can't they?"

Redact strolls casually away, his gloved hands again clasped behind his back. When he is a small silhouette, halfway to his mansion, the sound of gyrocopter rotors begins to approach. Cubi's phone rings in his pocket. He ignores it.

*

The gyrocopter is furnished in a comfortable but minimalist style. The pilot doesn't say anything, and Cubi doesn't try to start a conversation. The trip to Hive Central only takes a few minutes. Cubi jumps out onto a tarmac gyroport jutting out halfway up the beeswax structure, busy with wingless apians mounting and dismounting gyrocopters that swarm around it like seagulls.

Cubi shakily walks towards the plastic benches by the entrance and sits down. To his left an office worker reads a paper, preening his feelers inattentively. To his right sit two youths who can hardly have had their final moult. Cubi sighs and puts his head in his hands.

His phone rings.

"Right, you fucker," Cubi growls, fumbling it out of his pocket with trembling hands, "I'm going to give you a piece of my fucking mind. Yes? Who is this, and why is it so bloody important that you have to keep ringing me every five bloody minutes?"

"Cubiform Judge?" the woman on the other end says.

"Yes!" Cubi shouts back impatiently.

"I'm Estrade Apocope, the executor of Mec Ogive's estate."

Cubi says, "What?"