Caged (The Idyllic Series Book 1)

by Amy Johnson

  “They’re stairs, Linux,” I hiss. “Don’t be so proud of yourself.”

  “I feel like a blind man that just ran a marathon,” he whispers back, still grinning.

  If only that optimism would carry into our mission.

  “Why are we going upstairs?” he continues.

  “I didn’t see any downstairs that looked weak enough for me to take on alone. A newer model could sound an alarm or might be too fast for me to outthink.”

  “So, you decided to hunt where they have the home field advantage?”

  I nod.

  “I can’t see your face,” he reminds me.

  “I nodded. Yes, that’s what I’m doing.”

  “You’re an idiot,” he mutters, and the smile fades into something more pessimistic. He bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing.

  “I’ve got you, Lin.” I give his hand one last squeeze.

  His silence answers me in foreboding tones.

  Instead of wasting more time, I push the black door open that has ‘1’ painted on it just like the one that had ‘stairs.’ A long hallway greets me, lined with more black doors. Unlike the primitive metal doors with knobs, these boast electronic keypads. Linux hums in excitement as we near the first door.

  “Wait,” he whispers, hesitating, “how will we know if there’s someone inside?”

  My heart sinks. Why didn’t I consider that the apartments might be empty?

  “We know the cybernetics work on a schedule,” I answer, thinking out loud. “Z building goes first thing in the morning at 12:01, and after one hour, the Y building goes. Following that schedule, the A building would go at…” My voice trails off as I struggle to do what should be quick math.

  “One o’clock in the morning,” Linux blurts.

  “And they work an eleven-hour shift during one twenty-four hour day.”

  “So, if they went to work at one, then their break isn’t until twelve.”

  “Exactly, Einstein. What time is it now?”

  He pushes up his sleeve and glances at the solar powered analog watch on his wrist. Wiping the mud off the interface, he lifts it up to his face, squinting.

  “Almost ten.”

  I groan, leaning my shoulder against the door.

  “So they aren’t even home.”

  Linux shakes his head.

  “What do we do now? There’s no point in breaking into empty apartments.”

  I sigh, glancing at the keypad again.

  The opposing curious and sensible sides of my brain fight for control of my body. It’s dangerous to stay, but the opportunity to learn more about the machines tempts me. What would five minutes inside the apartments really hurt? The machines won’t be back for another hour, and the Artificials don’t guard the residential area.

  “We’re going in anyway,” I blurt, giving in.

  “What?” Linux asks in shock. “For what reason?”

  “Scientific exploration.”

  The boy opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to find a solid argument over me.

  “Come on,” I press. “You might find a new computer in there.”

  His face softens. Bingo.

  “Just for five minutes,” he says, pointing at me. “Promise.”

  “I promise, Linux. Five minutes, tops.”

  He holds out his smallest finger towards me.

  “Pinky promise.”

  “What are we? Five?”

  “Just do it.”

  I groan and interlace my pinky with his. Mine is shorter than his, meatier. The bones of his smooth slim finger dig into my calloused skin.

  “Thank you.” He kneels down to inspect the keypad.

  Although I know the machines are at work, I still stand guard behind him, one hand hovering over my pocket and the other pressed against his boney back. What are the machines doing in the lobby if everyone living in the building is absent? Maybe they are searching for protection from the incoming midday heat. Regardless, we are safe up here.

  The keypad beeps, and I look over my shoulder. A green light flashes once, and then the door slides open. Linux stands up straight, wearing his triumphant prideful smile.

  “You’re amazing,” I whisper, slipping past him and into the apartment. He giggles, and even though I can’t see him, I know he pushes phantom glasses up on his nose, forgets that he isn’t wearing any, and shrugs his shoulders. Brilliant, sure, but always humble.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the scene before me isn’t it. White walls greet me, bare and uninviting. A chair sits on the opposite side of the room beneath a wide window revealing the city below. The soft gray carpet of the floor sinks in under my feet. I search for a door leading to another room, but none hide in the shadows collecting in the corners.

  A grand, golden chandelier dangles from the ceiling, serving as the only adornment in the entire small space. A black screen hangs on the wall to our left, flashing product advertisements and the machine’s schedule on repeat.

  Work- 1:01 am to 12:00 pm.

  “New Skin Coverings- Apply now for upgrade. Increased mobility and flexibility. Guaranteed to last up to forty years.”

  Rest- 12:01 pm to 1:00 am.

  “New Skin Designs- natural blemishes, freckles, now available. Say goodbye to the sun fading your designs!”

  Work- 1:01 am to 12:00 pm.

  How boring their lives must be, following the same schedule every single day.

  The room has a bed, although I don’t know why a cybernetic would need one. It’s small, and the covers press neatly into the corners and folds down at the top. The pillow props itself against the headboard.

  I walk around the room in a small circle, grazing one hand against the perfect bed. The blanket ripples at my touch, and my fingers come away with a coating of dust.

  Linux moves straight toward the screen, pulling his glasses out of his pocket to inspect where the tech bleeds into the wall.

  “It’s just a television screen,” he says. “There’s nothing special about this room.”

  I chuckle, glancing out the window.

  He’s right.

  It looks exactly like what I would expect a small bedroom to look like, with less personalization.

  “I mean, they don’t exactly spend a lot of time here,” I mumble, sitting down on the singular chair. The cushion withstands my weight, not giving in even a centimeter.

  “That’s true, I guess.”

  He looks over at me and shrugs before gazing up at the golden chandelier.

  “Why in the world would they waste electricity like this?” he asks, making a face at the water droplet shaped beads of clear plastic or glass. From here, I can’t tell what they’re made of. They glitter like glass, and I expect no less from the vain cybernetics.

  “They’re not really wasting it,” I say. “Not when the energy is renewable. Hydroelectric, remember?”

  “Still, what a stupid lamp. A smaller, more sensible lamp would give the same quality of light.”

  I laugh. He’s absolutely right, again.

  Linux lowers himself down onto the couch beside me, but he sits on the edge of the seat, back straight and tense.

  “What’s the plan now?” he asks. “We still need to find a cybernetic and get that chip.”

  “I figured you would want to go home and try again tomorrow when the cybers aren’t at work.”

  “Oh, I do want to go home.” He runs a hand through his messy hair, standing the black strands in the front on end. “That chip is important, though. The sooner we get it, the better.”

  “Yes, but the longer we stay out here, the less safe we are,” I remind him, scooting up to sit on the edge.

  “We aren’t any safer underground,” he mumbles.

  I bite my fingernails. Neither option appeals to me, but his thinking is sound. We need the chip, fast. If we wait until tomorrow and come back to the apartments, what are the chances we will catch a cybernetic in their room on break? They go other places during that fr
ee hour to socialize and shop for modifications.

  We have to go now, while we’re already above ground and out in the open.

  “I have an idea,” I say, and Linux jumps, “but you’re not going to like it.”

  He sits up slowly, and I watch goosebumps spread across his arms. He senses what I’m going to say. A balloon of dread inflates inside my stomach.

  “We could go to the Anthros,” I continue in a low voice, like I’m breaking terrible news to him.

  “Absolutely not,” he snaps, shaking his head.

  “Linux, it’s perfect! The crowds as they come into work-”

  “No. That’s why we can’t go. Too many machines in one place at one time.”

  “There will be older models there, though. You know that newer machines don’t work in the park.”

  I learned that bit from observations of the Anthros. My father would sometimes take us to the marble gates as a warning to always be cautious of the machines. He explained how the machines that worked inside the walls were older models, a select few chosen from each building throughout the residential area. It’s the perfect place to pick up an old cyber.

  “No,” Linux says as he rises up out of his seat.

  Why am I the only person he’s brave enough to stand up to?

  “What other choice do we have?”

  I stand up and grab him by the front of the shirt. Fear flashes in his eyes. He knows I’m right. The Anthros is the perfect place to find an older model cybernetic. I don’t want to go there either, and I definitely don’t want to take him there.

  Even considering going in makes my skin crawl and my stomach flip.

  The machines take captured humans there to be tortured, starved, and forcefully bred. They treat them like animals being prepared for slaughter. When they’re done, they harvest them and assemble them into new model cybernetics, taking away their mortality, humanity, free will, and uniqueness. If I’m going in there, it’s not for me.

  “What choice do we have, Linux?” I repeat with more force. “I know you don’t want to go in, and I don’t either. This is the only option.”

  Linux closes his eyes, and his face twists up in fear.

  “Fine,” he whispers, shrugging himself out of my grasp, “but you stay as close to me as possible. If we see any Artificials, we abandon the mission.” He points at me. “Agreed?”

  I nod. “I promise I’ll protect you at all costs, Lin. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He nods, but his face turns white.

  I hate seeing him this scared.

  “Take the glasses back off,” I say with a sigh. “Let’s hurry. They change shift at noon when the N building goes to work.”

  He slips the broken frames into his pocket, allowing me to lead him back out into the long hallway and down the stairwell again. We slip out of the lobby unnoticed, blending into the sidewalk with the few other machines walking to and from work assignments.

  The crowds grow thicker and quieter as we walk. Buildings shorten, and small, bright green trees line the sidewalk.

  Two white marble columns appear as we turn a corner. Above the columns, in white, wrought iron lettering, are the words that cripple my sense of logic:

  Anthropological Park.

  As far as I can see, short, squat buildings spread across the distance. Between them are green fields, unnaturally blue bodies of water, and taller trees. It resembles the parks I’ve read about in my books where people would go to walk dogs or meet handsome strangers.

  A much darker object joins the natural scene before me though:

  Enclosures.

  From here, I can’t see the inhabitants, but the glassy domes reflect the beams of sunlight that break through the city’s haze. I count them quickly. Five.

  That means there are at least ten human beings held inside this Anthros. Countless others are held below the surface, I assume.

  “Is this your first day working at the Anthropological Park?”

  I glance to my left, where a cheery looking female machine is standing. Her mechanical irises revolve as she analyzes me, putting my features into her internal memory system. The skin on her face has been dusted lightly with makeup, giving her pink cheeks and ruby red lips. Her eye makeup is bright green, matching her short, square dress.

  “Yes,” I say, falling into their accent. “Is it yours?”

  She shakes her head. The mechanics in her neck groan as she does so, like an old door. She’s not a new model at all, just like I expected.

  “You are going to enjoy this work,” she says, her face never changing. She holds a bright-eyed look, but her mouth doesn’t smile. It gives me goosebumps, and I strain to mirror her expression. “It is very rewarding.”

  “I am sure I will,” I say gently. The lines moves forward, and the girl takes a few steps which turns her back towards me.

  “Status,” Linux whispers to me, blinking madly as he tried to see me.

  “Her joints creak,” I say back. “So, she must be old. She seems to be in working order, though. No twitching or jerking. Her host body is my size, would be pretty easy to take down.”

  Linux nods, squinting as he thinks.

  “Okay, I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “What are you whispering about?”

  The female cyber has turned back around, her giant eyes unblinking as she stares at us.

  “We were discussing asking you to give us a tour of the park,” I say, unfazed.

  The fact that she didn’t hear us only validates that she’s an older machine.

  “I would enjoy that very much,” she says, voice flat, conveying nothing resembling enjoyment at all.

  I follow the female cyber, glancing up at the elaborate design of the banner overhead.

  Each letter is made up of minuscule figurines of humans, bending their bodies into strange contortions to form the letters. Their faces are non-existent, blank slates. There are nude, intimate body parts exposed for the machines to gape at.

  Looking at it makes me furious, so I glare at the ground. Linux must’ve looked too, because he’s turned an odd shade of green.

  Glancing around to make sure the cybers aren’t watching us, I give his arm a squeeze, watching him relax. Whatever happens, I’ve got his back. Always.

  “Some of the subjects will be out for their allotted fresh air,” the machine tells me as she walks in short, quick footsteps toward the domes. “They are categorized by the experiments performed on them. Our first dome is the Exotic Skin, where we test various skin shade duplication methods and ways of ensuring lifelong durability.”

  She trails on as we walk, chirping with no end. Instead of listening, I walk beside her and inspect the area. Here, there are no Artificials--none that I can see, anyway. The sidewalks are softer concrete, not cracked or littered with shards of loose metal. The air seems crisper and cleaner because of the trees that surround us instead of buildings. They bloom, covering the plastic-looking grass in pink and white petals.

  It would almost be beautiful.

  If not for the glass domes.

  We walk for a long time before we reach the first exhibit. Inside the dome are two individuals, dark skinned with black hair that curls away from their head in all directions. The two of them sit on the grass by a small pond under the dome, watching us pass by.

  “There are, of course, more subjects than these two. They receive several hours outside to maintain their mental and physical health. In a few hours, cybernetics will take them inside and bring out two different subjects.”

  I take a deep breath, nodding. The humans’ eyes follow us as we move along, dark brown and infinite. Those eyes hold pain and terror, greater than anything I can comprehend. Every second that I remain staring at them makes me want to break them out, shattering the glass with the grenade hidden safely in my bag.

  “Now, sometimes the subjects are placed outside in isolation. Our second dome is a perfect example of that.”

  I look towards the secon
d dome, named the ‘Hair’ exhibit by a small plaque hammered into the ground. Here, a red-haired girl has been chained to a tree, hands pulled tight behind her back. Her mouth is open, soundlessly screaming at the machines passing by her. Her knees are scraped and bloody, leaving red tracks in the grass where she kneels. Tears stream down her rage-filled face.

  “She is one of several subjects with unique hair pigmentations. The machines who work with her aim to replicate those colors as naturally as possible.”

  She moves to look at the plaque, leaving the two of us standing alone.

  As we watch, the human stops screaming to take a few breaths and scan the passing crowd with her emerald eyes.

  I have to pull away from the glass, my hands shaking at my side.

  The recognition is written in the lines of her face when she sees me.

  She knows I’m human.

  “Now, Linux,” I growl, under my breath. Linux looks confusedly at the red haired girl and then at me.

  “I would like to see what lies this way,” he says to the female we’re traveling with. She nods and follows us into the pathway between two glass domes. I tap him on the shoulder, and stop, letting the girl follow me as he stands guard.

  “This is a dead end,” she states, noticing the building blocking us in.

  “I know,” I say, dropping the accent.

  She spins around to face me, and I drop the backpack on the ground.

  “What is this?” she asks, silver eyes glinting in the light.

  “This time, you’ve been captured,” I whisper, lunging at her.

  ✽✽✽

  The first time I went out with my parents on an above ground trip, I was ten. Normally, they made me stay underground, where I would help in the garden.

  “You’re letting me go?” I asked, standing under the ladder. I could barely reach the rungs; my growth spurt came early and didn’t last long.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” Dad had said, stroking my cheek with a dusty finger, “Mommy and I think it’s time that we started training you for your own runs.”

  He picked me up under the arms, and I gripped the ladder with both hands. His hands lingered on my back as I climbed, passing from one parent to another who waited at the top.