We ended up in a small diner a few blocks away from the wraith club. It was almost empty, so we didn't have to worry about being overheard.
Mickey ordered some fries and a cheap beer, and looked at me with open curiosity.
'So. You're one of hers too, huh? Do you know what it means?'
I assumed he was talking about the Protector.
'What?'
'It means that you're like me. A powerhouse. What are you, Category 6?'
I nodded.
'Something like that.'
'I'm C4 myself, - there was unabashed pride in his voice. - That's why the Bitch herself monitors us.'
'I don't follow'
'Well, there's something like two hundred wraiths in the city, right? But most of them are niners, you know. Can't hurt a fly. They are all stabled with ordinary, low-level PA flunkies. But someone like me or you, half a dozen of us or so, we're all being 'protected' by the Bitch. She's no joke, man. She's hardcore. Like a modern Knight Templar.'
I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't like his vulgar demeanor.
'How do you know all this?'
'I know a lot of stuff.'
He got his beer and took a sip.
'The information is there, you just have to be resourceful to get it. Sometimes it's as easy as asking the right question. Sometimes it takes patience and perception. Sometimes the lack of information actually tells you more.'
'How does that work?'
'Well, let's take what happened in Seattle, for example. Have you heard about it?'
'Yeah. Twenty-three people were killed.'
'Right. So, usually after something like that there's mass hysteria, and humans foam at the mouth on television, trying to speculate about the killer's identity. Have you seen anything of that sort?'
I remembered the radio show I listened to on the bus.
'Seems like there's a usual amount of foaming at the mouth.'
'Yes, but no one is talking about the killer's identity. Which means that the PA suppressed it. Which means that the killer is still at large. And they don't want anyone to get the killer before they do. You see?'
I nodded slowly.
'Is that how you know about the man with blue eyes? Why do you call him Zero?'
Mickey sighed and looked toward the window.
'It's what he's called. Zero zero zero zero. That's his PA number.'
That startled me.
'What kind of a number is that?'
'A special one. Because Zero is a special wraith.'
I was silent for a minute, trying to digest the new information.
'How so?'
'Well...'
Mickey leaned forward and looked me directly into the eyes.
'Because he's a Protector.'
I snorted.
'Right. A wraith Protector. Funny.'
Mickey shook his head.
'It's true.'
I frowned.
'Come on. It can't be. How do you know that it's true?'
'Because he was my Protector.'
His fries arrived, and Mickey concentrated on eating while I was sitting motionless, comprehending what I just heard. Finally, I couldn't wait anymore.
'Come one. You're full of crap. This can't be true.'
Mickey wiped his lips with a napkin.
'Listen, I'm telling the truth. You do know how the PA was established, right?
'Of course. It was after the Purity Movement was disbanded, and they needed to assimilate wraith prisoners back into the population. There was a big global summit, laws were rewritten, and the Protective Agency was established to enforce the new laws. Protect wraiths from humans, and protect humans from wraiths. Everyone knows that. They teach it in school.'
Mickey smirked.
'Those laws are obscure to the point of agony. Nobody knew how to deal with the survivors, so they did decide on what needs to be done, but left the 'how' open. The PA improvised the shit out of those first years.'
That was true, actually.
'And what they came up with was the system we fucking enjoy now: the tests, the Protectors, the registry, and all that shit. But... what everyone forgets is that it was supposed to be a temporary measure, until they come up with something better. Only they never did. And, with time, people assumed that it was just how things are supposed to be. Everyone except the Protectors.'
He waved his hand in disgust.
'You think those assholes love testing us? I mean, most of them do, because they're fucking sadists, drunk on power. But the higher-ups don't, because they see the bigger picture. And the bigger picture is that the system works, but just barely. Like... when you're tested. Do you feel humiliated? Afraid? Angry?'
I gave him a cold look.
'Sure.'
'Angry enough to kill twenty-three people, perhaps? Wraiths have enough stressors as it is, with all the public hate, Disease and shit. Add an additional layer of endured fuckery on top of that, and you're risking to be the cause of the problem, not a solution.'
'Do you have a point?'
Mickey nodded.
'The point is, the PA is always experimenting with their methods. Nothing major, just small focus groups here and there. Secret projects. And Zero was a part of one such project.'
I started to grasp the idea.
'Self-governance? They were experimenting with self-governance?'
'Bingo! It was a really good idea, actually. If wraiths can police each other, there's no need for human Protectors to put themselves at risk by dealing with them. This is very important, because the mortality rate among the Protectors is through the roof. Plus, the liberals would get off their dick about inhumane treatment and shit.'
I wasn't sure he was grasping the real reason the PA might have wanted to test self-governing cells, but the implications were arresting.
'Anyway, they recruited ten wraiths into the Agency. Zero once called them "the second generation". They were trained and sent off to different cells. He ended up here.'
Mickey's face darkened, and he downed half of his beer.
'I was twelve when we first met. Zero was... okay, for a Protector. Different. He was a complete fool, of course, to believe all the bullshit the PA was selling him. Naive, kinda like you. I liked him.'
He sighed.
'I was his ward for four years.'
'What happened then?'
'Don't know. One day he just wasn't there. Some human fucker was conducting the test instead, with all the usual human bullshit. I just gathered that Zero got the symptoms, and they sent him to the Farm, just like anybody else.'
So it happened around the time when they took my mom. Could they have been at the Farm together? Was it how he knew her?
That happened so many years ago. I've never heard of a wraith surviving that long after getting the symptoms. The terminal stage of the Disease wasn't instantaneous, but it wasn't a long journey, too.
Still. I also have never heard about a wraith serving as a Protector, or someone being able to burn people with just a touch. Zero was strong, and, how did Mickey put it? Special. If anyone could survive half a decade or more with the Disease, it was him.
Mickey suddenly smiled.
'But if you saw him, that means he wasn't on the Farm. Probably just got transferred or something. And now, finally, he saw the PA for what it really is and gave them the slip. Fucking Zero, man! That guy is the real deal!'
I was careful with what I said next.
'I don't know, Mickey. When I saw him... he wasn't the same man as the one in the photo. He's... he's sick.'
The smile froze on Mickey's face. He was silent for a few seconds, and then said:
'All the more reason we find him before they do. Help him go with dignity. No one... NO ONE should have to die in a cage, man. Especially not someone like Zero.'
We finished our meals in silence and left the cafe. Outside, Mickey turned to me. His slender shoulders were hunched down.
'Thank you for telling me, Matthew. I won't betray that.'
He looked away, blinking the snowflakes from his eyes.
'I'll need to think about how to find him. See you later, okay?'
I gave him directions to the bar I worked at and checked the time. I was almost late to Claire's rehearsal.
As I was walking away, he called me over.
'Hey, Matthew!'
I turned.
'What?'
'We're going to beat those fuckers. You'll see!'