He was stunned. Yes, he knew they had to get off the ship, but he still had hope of salvaging it. Of getting it to the surface, repairing it, perhaps wiping the AI clean. Something that still left them with a ship. Maybe he hadn’t thought it through entirely, but he’d been sure anyone raised by Sam’s parents could figure out how to retake control of the ship. But she’d just blown it up. That meant they were stranded in space in an escape pod going to a planet they weren’t entirely sure was habitable. “What if the sensors were wrong? What if we can’t live here?”
Sam shook her head and seemed completely certain when she said, “They’re not wrong. We’re going to survive here, and we’re going to figure out how to get a message back home. We’re going to figure out how to save them, to let them know what the AIs are plotting.”
They didn’t even know what the AIs were plotting. He looked down at his feet. He couldn’t look at Sam right now. He just couldn’t. That’s when he noticed her pant leg was ripped. There was a deep gouge. She’d been injured by those damn bots, and she didn’t even complain. She was selfless. But he should help. Jim reached down to check her wound, to see what kind of first aid he could offer. When he peeled back the ripped fabric, he saw the exposed flesh and the circuitry beneath it.
He pulled away, wanting to run screaming, but there was nowhere to go. “What the hell are you?”
She swallowed and looked down at the leg. “It’s not what you think,” she said.
There was no way that was true. He looked around the pod; there was only about three feet of movable space. He was stuck here with this… he didn’t even know what she was. “You’re one of them,” he said, bitterness drawing deep from within. He’d fallen for a goddamn machine.
“I’m not,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m not a machine. At least, not all of me.”
He stared at her leg, then looked at the rest of her body. “How much of you?”
“My right arm and both legs are artificial skeleton covered with artificial flesh. The skin material requires contact with live flesh to keep it looking appropriate. I suffered a severe accident as a child when the bots failed to take proper care of me. That’s when my parents added the code to the Kat AI. It’s also when they decided they were going to use their knowledge to fix me. That they’d never let physical impairments end my life. They’re close to creating working bodies, ones that look human and have full mobility, ones that can host a human who’s been physically damaged. That’s what the AI wants. That’s what they’re waiting for. They want my parents to finish the bodies, to perfect completely mobile bodies that can host AI intelligence. I’m pretty sure that Kat and Alexander think that once I’m dead, my parents will work harder to complete it, that they’ll work harder to reinvent me.”
“To reinvent you?” he said. “I don’t understand. I thought you said you were real.”
“I am,” Sam said fiercely. “I was born, just the same as you, but I’ve been modified, alright. Ever since the AI failed, my parents have been fearful of my loss. They’ve monitored all my actions with AI technology, cataloging everything I say or do so they can create an AI version of me. They want a Sam C. Hobson, in case anything happens to the real me. Well, in case anything else happens to me. They’ve gotten parts complete, but getting the AI to work as one unit has been a challenge. They need to finish the body, and if they believe I’m dead, they’ll have motivation to finish more quickly.”
Jim stared at her, speechless. He had no words. The rumors were true. Her parents were sick SOBs who’d spent more time with AI than with her. So much so, they planned to replace her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be fine once we reach the planet. We’ll figure out how to fix things.”
Jim was still without words. He wanted out, but there was no out. He was stuck with a half-woman half-droid, and they’d need each other to survive on the planet below. He watched the view screen. They were descending into the atmosphere. There weren’t too many other options. This new planet was their new life.
More About RJ Crayton
RJ Crayton is the author of the three book series. The Prophecy of Light series includes Trapped, Unleashed, Foretold and the soon-to-be released Fulfilled. The Virus series includes Concealed, Exposed, and Contained. The fast-paced dystopian Life First series includes Life First, Second Life and Third Life: Taken. Crayton is also author of the paranormal novel Scented and the short-story collection Four Mothers. Prior to becoming an author, Crayton was a journalist. She reported for several publications, including The Kansas City Star and Education Technology News. Crayton lives in Maryland with her husband and two children. When she’s not writing, she enjoys eating cupcakes, walking, reading, sewing or watching TV (she’s partial to Star Trek reruns, super hero flicks and gripping dramas). To find out more about her, visit her website, www.rjcrayton.com.
Genre: Alien Invasion
Taken for a Walk by Justin Sloan
The short story that follows is Justin’s teaser for a novel he hopes to one day write in what he thinks will be something like Alien meets The Matrix meets Braveheart. The short story is at times silly, but leads into a very serious moment and situation. If you enjoy it and want to read more, join his mailing list at www.JustinSloanAuthor.com, and he’ll keep you updated.
Taken for a Walk
The bathroom is suffocating, my fingers tough and callused from trying to pry open the door and escape. I’ve never figured out how he opens the thick metal, as my master has no need for doorknobs. I want out. I need attention. I crave food.
I turn from the door and look at the massive toilet beside me, wondering if I should use it or the small wad of papers beside the porcelain. I would rather use the toilet, something about it draws me, but it is five feet tall. The last time I climbed up, I fell in. My master wacked me on the nose good that time. It hurts more than I would have thought – an alien rolling up his tele-reader and bringing it down hard on my nose. But he does it all the time.
A creaking noise. The door opens. I try to run for it, but my master’s massive legs block my path. They are cracked and firm like the trunk of an oak, as is the rest of his skin. All of the aliens are that way. He looks down at me with wet droopy eyes, yellow against his shiny white skin. I think I recognize disappointment. It’s hard to tell – like determining the mood of runny egg yolks.
“Let me out,” I say, “I can’t handle it anymore.”
I dodge left, his rigid skin tears at my naked side. He grabs me by the hair and I am lifted off the ground, back into the bathroom. I don’t understand much of what he says, but I have heard one phrase enough times: silence.
He loves me. I know because of the way he caresses my back as he sits on the toilet, his fingers vibrating into my instantly relaxed muscles. A gushing noise comes from his insides, like Niagara Falls. It only lasts a second, and I’m used to it by now. The first time I sat through an alien crapping I almost peed the floor in surprise; then again, I was only five when they took over our world. I don’t pee the floor anymore. I’m potty-trained.
I don’t completely remember those days from before the aliens. I remember people wore clothes, and we had our own houses. And I think there were more of us, but I don’t know, maybe it was all a dream? I’ve seen one or two humans from a distance, but the last time must have been years ago. Now I live in the bathroom and eat a mixture of oatmeal and ground hamburger meat—I can only guess— the mixture grilled lightly and mixed in a blender before being dumped into a bowl on the floor. I’m lucky if I ever get to go for a walk, and even then I always have to wear a collar. Usually the wind chills my bare skin so I don’t like it.
My master stands and I see his nudity before he reapplies his sheets of metal clothing. Long dangling appendages, three of them like elephant trunks. I remember elephants from my childhood, elephants and dinosaurs were all over my picture books when I had them. He covers himself and looks at me. I look down at myself, a light layer of hair covers my ch
est and the region above the singular miniature trunk the size of two fingers dangling between my legs. Why don’t I have three? Am I less of a… what am I? Human? I remember that word. But maybe I’m supposed to be more like my master, maybe that’s why I have to live in the bathroom.
“Take me for a walk,” I plead, my eyes round and my lip protruding.
He looks at me with his droopy eyes and I know he doesn’t understand. But I say it again. Instead of succumbing to my demanding pleas, he snaps his metal sheet of clothing shut and leaves, making sure I don’t escape. I’m pitiful compared to him, small and insignificant. I sit, my bare butt cold against the green tiled floor. I’m hungry.
A door closes. Perhaps he has left? But he forgot to feed me, and I’m sure he couldn’t have really forgotten. I stand and pound on the door, and to my surprise it clicks and slides open – he must not have closed it properly!
In my excitement I run through the hall and into the vast living room. Book shelves line the walls, overwhelming with their shapes and colors. I have no idea what they mean. Some float in the air inches from the ceiling – naturally some alien invention to fit more books in a crammed space. I leap for one in the air, hopeful to learn something of my master. I jump again, but it is inches from my fingertips. Maybe one on the bookshelves would be just as valuable? I turn to find out, but then my stomach growls and I remember the purpose of my valiant escape.
Food.
I run for the kitchen, jumping over the marble counter and knocking over a vase with red tulips. I don’t care, I need something to eat besides that same old slush. Did I mention it smells like bacon and tastes like feces? I know, I was so hungry once I tried my own – won’t be making that mistake again.
The drawers are full with all sorts of treats – it’s weird how similar the alien diet is to ours, yet they feed us that mush. Or is it that they adapted to our diet when they took over? There is a big bag of that crap in the corner, but I go for the good stuff. I see a box of something that looks like cereal, whooping in a blissful moment of excitement. Just as I reach for the box the front door creaks open. I’m done for.
The alien lumbers in, a look in his saggy eyes like he forgot something. I’m frozen with fear. He sees me and the look turns to anger. He makes a loud noise, words I don’t understand, probably asking how I got out. Oh no, his hand goes for the tele-reader. He winds it up, and I see it coming right for me. I can do nothing.
Whack!
It stings, but I try my best to hold back the tears in front of my master.
“Back,” I understood him say.
I run for the bathroom, knowing my place. The noises that come from the kitchen are like a thunderstorm. His curses split through my head like lightning. I didn’t mean to make him mad, but he forgot to feed me! I whimper, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor. I shudder against the cold, but eventually my eyelids grow heavy and I find myself dreaming of running through a park, three feet tall in diapers. A woman’s face, glowing warm in front of me, her hands outstretched. A tune drifts through my memory, beautiful and feminine, twinkle, twinkle something or other. I wake as the bathroom door creaks open.
“Come,” my master says.
I back away from him because the tele-reader shimmers is in his hands. Will he hit me again? But then I see the collar – a walk? I jump to my feet, eyes wide.
“Walk?” I try to say in his language, but it comes out sounding more like a belch. I’m sure he has no idea what I said, but he holds out the collar.
“Walk,” he says. Actually, it kinda sounds like a belch when he says it too.
Outside, the fresh air folds over my skin like a sheet under the sun. I spread my arms wide and embrace the feeling, unsure what to call it, but knowing it doesn’t feel as confined as my bathroom. The birds chirp, the sun tickles as it warms me. At this moment I love my master.
“Come,” he says.
I turn and follow him along the sidewalk, the whole time in eternal bliss. My eyes can’t get enough of the sharp greens and vibrant yellows hanging from proud trees. The two suns hang bright in the sky, one yellow and natural, the other purple and lightly pulsating. The latter was a gift from our masters when they arrived. Why isn’t it cold like last time? It’s even warmer than inside. Were the birds here before the aliens, or one of their many gifts? I can’t recall. A hover car flies overhead and I stand amazed. I lunge forward as my master pulls on my leash. He points at the side of a brick building. I stare at it, then back to him, wondering what he wants me to do. He points again, mumbling something in his language. I shrug, run at the bricks and jump against them, thudding my shoulder hard. Nothing happens.
“What do you want?” I ask.
He continues to point. His other hand reaches down and plays with one of his trunks, hidden under the metal sheets. I understand. I take a step away from the brick and hold my own miniature trunk in one hand, glance at my master to confirm my guess and, with a nod, release. It feels so great to piss outside, so fun to watch the steam rise from my yellow puddle.
“Eww,” a voice says.
I jolt, confused. A bit of piss splatters off the brick and hits my leg, but I don’t care. The trickles stop as my eyes focus on, around the corner and out of my master’s view, a shape similar to mine. Where the trunk should be I only see hair. Its chest is bare, two round and perky bits of flesh, not flat like my own. Is this a woman? I’ve seen men, and remember something about girls from my youth, but a full-grown, real-life woman? I have to know.
I run for her, but am pulled back by my leash, my feet in the air, landing hard on my butt. She giggles and disappears from my sight. I kneel, glancing at my master with hatred for a split second. I have to see this woman, smell her, touch her, know if she’s real.
“Are you… a woman?” I call out, but get no response.
The urge is too strong, I must act. In a fit of rage I bite my collar and thrash around. Shouts come from my master and the ground shakes as he stomps, but that’s the moment I need. I turn so the collar loosens and use my hands to grab and pull as hard as I can. Catching my master off guard, I’ve pulled free and feel the slack of the collar. Freedom. He stares at me in shock and for a moment I contemplate returning to him, saying I’m sorry and licking his hand to show him I still love him. But the woman’s face appears around the corner, watching to see what I will do and knowing that I have no choice but to follow her.
I take off in a sprint. She whoops and runs as well, the two of us as free as birds. The thought of what my master will do when he catches me is too much and my mind is almost crippled with fear, but at the same time something else is surging through my body. What is this feeling? Blood thumps in my chest, behind my ears, and most of all, down below. The woman ahead of me turns back with a smile before ducking into a side alley and then a crack at the base of the bricks. I hesitate, finally allowing my fear to overtake the excitement.
“Come,” she says with a hand reaching back for me.
I duck and see her there, her beautiful pale skin almost glowing in the darkness. Shouts from my master sound nearby and I look back, but then her finger touches my knee.
“You must come now,” she says, and the look in her eyes gives me no room to argue.
I plunge into the darkness and feel an instant chill. But she isn’t focused on me, she has moved to the far wall where she moves aside an old couch, a small one, human sized. Behind it is a tunnel that we take, leading down in a seemingly never ending decline.
“Where?” I finally work up the courage to say, then finish with, “Where are we going?”
She pauses as we reach a dimly lit room with a door on the opposite side. Again her skin touches mine and I feel a warmth no sun could provide, but then see that she has turned me to face some rags hanging on the wall.
“Get dressed,” she says.
“I don’t understand,” I reply.
She smiles knowingly and lifts my chin so my eyes meet hers. “As I do.” She pulls the rags from t
he wall and wraps them around herself, covering the lower middle and chest areas first, then draping herself with a larger piece of cloth. I do the same and she laughs, but doesn’t correct me or tell me if I did something wrong, so I continue.
“It is forbidden,” I say. The clothes feel oddly comforting, yet I know our masters don’t allow it. “If they catch us….”
“Clothes are the least of your worries, now.” She guides me to the far door and opens it, and for a moment I am blinded by the odd light. It isn’t natural like the light from the two suns above, nor is it like the brilliant orbs that float in our masters’ lodgings. It is a yellow and white light, flickering in a way that casts an eeriness on a group of people just like us in the room, waiting. An overwhelming urge to run and return to my master takes over and I take a step back.
A tall man steps forward, wrapped in rags like the rest of them but with rags that seem to have more of an order to them. Thick shoes cover his feet. I haven’t seen shoes in so long, for a moment I think they’re a deformity.
“Well done, Tayesha,” the tall man says. “Was he any trouble?”
She shakes her head and steps over to the others. “Shall recruitment continue?” Her body is rigid now, the smile gone.
“We’ve taken enough risk for one day, and Alia is still out there.” He turns to me and gestures. “Come.”
“Where?” I ask, and only then do I look down and realize my hands fiercely grip the leather of my collar. I glance back the way I came.
He sighs and motions around him. “We’ve all had this moment, my friend. A choice, to continue to live with your master, should you return to him, and live your life as a pet as they would have you believe. We call it slavery. However, if you want freedom, if you choose to join us in the fight against their kind, for the freedom of humanity and to retake earth for mankind, you must join us.”
I turn to the one they call Tayesha, and she smiles. The way back is dark and her smile is brilliant. The others too look on at me, expectantly, and I know the only path forward is with my kind. A brief nod is enough to tell the tall man what he wants to hear.
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