- for my daughter, my only child -
I swear, the city was humming at me. Not like a song, not like anything you’d want to dance to. More like a migraine that had learned how to breathe. That’s what Neon Sky does—it breathes. You walk under it, and it’s like the whole damn thing is alive, pulsing, waiting for you to screw up.
I was seventeen, give or take. Nobody keeps track anymore, not since the Registry went digital and half the files got fried in the blackout.
My mother liked to say I was born in the year of the last real rain, but she said a lot of things, and most of them were lies. Or maybe they weren’t lies, maybe they were just stories she told herself so she wouldn’t choke on the truth.
Anyway, I was seventeen, wandering through the upper tiers of District Nine, trying to look like I belonged. Nobody belongs anywhere, not really, but you’ve got to fake it or they’ll tag you. And once you’re tagged, you’re done.
The Neon Sky isn’t just lights. It’s surveillance, too. Every flicker is a lens, every glow a sensor. They say it’s for safety, but that’s the kind of word people use when they mean control.
Safety.
I kept my collar up, hands jammed in my pockets, pretending I had somewhere to be. Truth was, I didn’t. I never do. I just walk. Walking’s the only thing that feels like mine.
There’s this tower, right in the middle of Nine, called the Sprite. It’s supposed to be the tallest building in the hemisphere, but I don’t buy it. I’ve seen taller in the archives. Still, it’s big enough to make you feel small, and that’s the point. They want you to look up and remember you’re nothing.
I was staring at it when this boy bumped into me. He had hair like static—white, frizzed, sparking at the ends. He looked at me like he knew me, which was impossible, because nobody knows me.
“ You’re out of sync, ” he said. Just like that. No hello, no excuse me. Out of sync.
“ What the hell does that mean? ” I asked.
He shrugged, “ Means you don’t belong here. Means you’re walking against the current. ”
I wanted to tell him to shove it, but the way he said it—calm, like he wasn’t afraid of anything—it stuck.
Her name was Hower. Or at least that’s what he told me. Names don’t mean much anymore. People change them like passwords.
He said she was part of a drift collective. That’s what they call themselves—drifters. Kids who slip through the cracks, live off-grid, dodge the Registry. I’d heard of them, sure, but I didn’t think they were real.
He was real. Too real. He didn’t blink when the Neon Sky scanned us. He didn’t flinch when a patrol drone buzzed overhead. He just kept walking, like the whole world was his.
Son of a bitch! He was stealing my vibe! And a girl like me needs a vibe, you know?
“ You ever wonder, ” he said, “ if the Sky’s watching us because it’s lonely? ”
I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny, “ It’s a machine. Machines don’t get lonely. ”
He looked at me like I was the idiot, “ Everything gets lonely. Even machines. Especially machines. ”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Hower took me to the underlevels. You’ve never seen dark until you’ve been under the Neon Sky. Down there, it’s all shadows and rust, dripping pipes and graffiti that looks like it was written by losers
The drifters were waiting. A dozen of them, maybe more. Kids like me, but sharper, hungrier. They had eyes that didn’t trust, hands that didn’t shake.
They called me “ Surface Girl. ”
I hated it, but I didn’t correct them.
The leader was this guy named Ryn. Tall, wiry, with a scar that cut across his mouth like a permanent smirk. He looked me up and down and said,
“ You’re late. ”
“ I didn’t know I was coming, ” I said.
Hower grinned. “That’s the point.”
Drifters play this game called Ghostwalk. It’s not really a game, more like a dare. You pick a sector, you walk through it without getting tagged by the Sky. No masks, no cloaks, no hacks. Just you, raw, against the system.
Most people don’t make it. The Sky sees everything.
Hower said I had to try. Said it was the only way to prove I wasn’t just another Surface Girl.
So I walked.
I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like the whole city was breathing down my neck, whispering my name, waiting for me to trip. Every step felt like a confession. Every shadow felt like a trap.
But I made it. Somehow, I made it.
When I got back, Ryn clapped me on the shoulder.
“ You’re one of us now, ” he said.
I didn’t feel like one of them. I didn't even know if I wanted to be one of them. I felt like nothing. But maybe that’s what being one of them meant.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you: the Neon Sky isn’t just surveillance. It's a memory. It remembers everything. Every face, every step, every word.
Hower said the Sky was built to replace history.
“ Why write books, ” he said, “ when you can just record everything? ”
I asked him what happens when the Sky forgets.
He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile, “ Then we disappeared. ”
We were drifting through Sector Five when the blackout hit. The whole sky went dark, just for a second. But a second’s enough.
Hower grabbed my hand, “ Run! ”
We ran. Through alleys, over fences, under broken signs. My lungs were burning, my legs screaming, but I didn’t stop.
When we finally collapsed, he was laughing. Not a polite laugh, not a fake laugh. A real one.
“ You felt it, didn’t you? ” he said.
“ Freedom. ”
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to believe it. But all I felt was fear.
Ryn said the blackout was no accident. Said the drifters had hacked the Sky. Said we were free now.
But freedom’s just another word people use when they don’t know what’s coming next.
The Sky came back online. Stronger, brighter, angrier. It scanned us harder, tagged us faster.
Hower didn’t care. He kept walking against the current.
I cared. I cared too much. I really wanted to go home to my mother and deep down I really needed to talk to my dad.
Here’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you I joined the drifters, that I fought the Sky, that I became some kind of hero.
But I didn’t.
I walked away. Back to the Surface. Back to the Sprite. Back to pretending I belonged.
Hower called after me, “ You’ll regret it. ”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I will. But I didn't care. I had a mother. I missed my dad. I went to school. My life as a teenager under the neon sky wasn't perfect, but as my dad says, " No-one has their life together at your age. Relax. Take time out to grow up, daughter. I love you, no matter the regrets. "
But regret’s just another kind of memory, and the Sky remembers enough for both of us.
I keep walking. That’s all I do.
Sometimes I look up at the Neon Sky and wonder if it’s looking back. Sometimes I wonder if Hower's still out there, drifting, laughing, not blinking.
Sometimes I wonder if the Sky really is lonely.
But mostly, I just walk, because walking’s the only thing that feels like mine.
Bio:
L Christopher Hennessy lives in Coffs Harbour NSW, Australia, He is the author of poetry, short stories, and novels, and has been published since the 1990s. His writing covers many genres.