Excerpt

Chapter 1: Outside the Greenhouse

By ten in the morning, outside the greenhouse, the temperature had reached thirty-five degrees Celsius—unusually cool for March. Granny glanced at the thermometer display, inserted into the building's outer wall. She looked defiantly up at the Sun, put on her glasses, and set off for her appointment.

She was to meet with Retama Belu at La Duchessa, a labyrinth of abandoned buildings, collapsed roofs, and corroded concrete walls, invaded by the roots of ailanthus, figs, and wild plants. She descended the broken steps of a large external staircase and stopped on a landing that the surrounding trees had turned into a clearing; the silence was broken only by buzzing insects and the light rustling of leaves in the weak north-west breeze.

She started walking in circles, kicking away dry leaves, empty water bottles, bags of dehydrated food around which wasps flocked. That Belu idiot was late. He'd better have that money ready. Her left hand gripped the handle of an electric animal prod and her index finger lightly tapped the trigger.

A lizard emerged from under a stone and passed in front of her, little feet tapping on the dusty granite, headed for the shadow of another rock. A flick of the wrist and the invisible whip sliced it in two. The front half took a few more steps before collapsing, while the back half continued to desperately whip the sand, as if it wanted to join the trunk.

Poor fool. Granny despised hope and the hopeful. The back half, however, had reached the front half's stump and, by a strange animal sensitivity, seemed to approach its other self, still pulsing with life, in an extreme attempt at reunification. With a kick, she moved it away, sending it flying into the tangle of spring grass.

Three figures shaded by hats made of vegetable fiber were walking up the steps, making their way through the foliage.

"Good day," the older one began.

"The day is always bad!" Granny interjected. "You brought backup, you weed?" She nodded at the two lanky boys who accompanied him, and stood ready to use her whip.

"My sons," he said by way of introduction. The boys slipped two containers with straps off their backs and set them down on the ground.

"I have a present for you. Aged three years in a cave at a constant temperature."

The old woman felt saliva flood her mouth and a sudden dryness in her throat. But she wouldn't be distracted from business.

"Let's get to the point. How much do you want to risk?"

"I came to you because they say you accept any bet."

"Only if it suits me."

"My family is counting on your discretion, old woman."

"Silence is always better."

Retama took a breath and decided to answer, resigned to her conditions.

"One million erui on Remain."

Granny took a few seconds to consider the offer.

"My eardrums regenerated recently, but I'm not sure I heard you right. You want to put one million on Remain?"

"Yes."

If the Belu family bet all its money on such an unlikely event, they must have had good reasons. Most of the bets came to her on Depart. The citizens were convinced that a large part of the city during Cabidanni would be emptied; not a day went by without someone emigrating to the North. There had been no spring rains that year and nothing to suggest that they would come in the following months. The water for crops had been halved, she well knew. The greenhouse was bending over backwards to grow vegetables; she had seen with her own eyes the tiny tomatoes, the shrunken eggplant, the woody lettuce, and now Belu was betting on Remain.

"Thirty to one," she said.

Retama gasped in surprise.

"In your Niche, you put Remain at fifty to one."

"For everyone else, it's fifty to one. For you, and only for you, it's thirty to one. Take it or leave it."

The other lifted his hat from his forehead and wiped away the sweat.

The old woman remained impassive. The other bookies gave Remain thirty to one on a basis of eighty per cent; i.e. the Exodus would be deemed valid only if eighty percent of the citizens migrated. She was so sure of herself that she lowered the percentage to seventy. Some didn't even take Remain into consideration; everything was hurtling toward Depart and nothing was going to stop it.

Retama couldn't have done better, especially now that he had discovered the game; disclosing such a bet to another bookie would shake the system and warn everyone, which consequently would have increased confidence in Remain.

"We accept," Retama said, bowing his head.

Granny was sure of it. The Belus weren't stupid.

She wished she knew on which data they based their bet, but asking was the best way not to find out.

She reached for Retama's right arm, adorned with the thick silver bracelet that contained the microchip. He brought his left hand to the jewel; everyone was getting the microchip in the lump of flesh at the base of the left thumb, if they were right-handed.

In a fraction of a second, the old woman sucked a million erui from the Belus' account and projected into the air the screen that confirmed the passage of money into hers.

She smiled, satisfied. "Now, Retama, I'll gladly taste your wine."