by Sarah Fine
“Weirdos stick together,” whispers Lara.
“Lara!” Hannah slaps the tall girl in the arm again, but she is laughing and the act appears to have playful intent.
“Sometimes the truth hurts. Not to be mean, but I think we’ve outgrown Neda.”
“She does seem more interested in machines than people,” says Mei.
“Maybe she’s building herself a canny boyfriend,” Lara says. “Someone who would actually be interested in her.”
“Neda is beautiful.” This comes from Cora. Her voice is so loud that Hannah lets out a soft cry codable as surprise.
“No one said she was ugly,” Hannah says.
“You’re being awful!” The shout comes from Cora. When Hannah turns around, we see Cora has stopped in the foyer behind the group. Cora’s face is flushed, and her eyes are wide with anger. “You’re nice to her face, and then behind her back you’re always saying nasty things!”
“Oh my god,” Lara says. “We’re joking, Cora. Do you know what a joke is?”
“Sure,” says Cora. Her nostrils are flared, and her fists are clenched around the hem of her sweater. “But your ‘jokes’ aren’t ever funny.” Her facial expression provides a mix of cues. Some, including the contracted orbicularis oris and masseter muscles, are codable as anger, but others, such as the activation of the frontalis and corrugator supercilii, indicate fear.
“You’re not always good at getting humor, though, are you?” asks Hannah. “At least that’s what your mom told me.”
Cora flinches at the mention of her mother. After a pause of 4 seconds she says, “I just want you to be nice to Neda.” Her voice trembles. “She’s a really good person, and she’s beautiful, and she’s . . . nice.”
Hannah laughs. “Sometimes you’re adorable, CC,” she says. Her tone reads as pity or scorn.
“No, she’s not,” Lara whispers, very close to Hannah’s ear. Then, in full voice, Lara says, “Are you sure you don’t have a little crush on Neda, CC? I mean, we thought for sure you were interested in boys”—here, she and Hannah are looking at each other, and Lara raises 1 eyebrow and rolls her eyes again—“but it’s okay if you’ve got pants feelings for girls, too.”
Mei snorts. “‘Pants feelings’?”
Cora has wrapped her arms around her body, as though she is hugging herself. She has commenced low-intensity rocking. Her eyes are averted, and she appears to be examining the ceiling.
Hannah pokes Lara in the arm and says quietly, “Enough. We need to go if we want to see the whole thing.” She turns back to the staircase and begins to walk.
“Oh, come on, CC, let’s just drop it. I’m just kidding anyway,” says Lara, sliding her hand through her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail with a self-adjusting silver binding she was previously wearing as a bracelet on her wrist. “It’s windy up there.” She appears to be reading information off her lenses. “I don’t want to look like a freak when we come down.”
Hannah looks back at Cora, who is scowling and pushing her fingers through her thick, disheveled hair.
“It’s just us tonight, CC,” Hannah says. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, it’s not like Finn is here to see you,” says Lara. She emphasizes the name, saying it at significantly higher volume than every other word in her statement.
Cora’s mouth opens and she stammers, “I-I-I don’t—” Her cheeks turn pink.
“Relax,” says Hannah. “Ignore her.”
“Right,” Lara replies. “It’s not like I hit a nerve or anything.”
“Finn and CC are just friends,” Hannah says. “Quit teasing her. She knows it’s not cool to go after your sister’s boyfriend.”
“You broke up with him five months ago,” Cora says.
“Four,” says Mei. “Why are you exaggerating?”
“And they’d been together for two years,” Lara adds. “Are you saying it was no big deal?”
“No!” Cora catches up with the others. The group has reached the staircase and begins to climb. “It’s just, it’s July, and they broke up at the beginning of February—”
“Well, that was just the beginning of the breakup,” Hannah says quietly. Her tone indicates sadness. “We were up and down for a month before it finally fizzled out. I think we’d still be together if it weren’t for certain . . . factors.”
Hannah’s cam perspective wobbles as Cora says, “Hey!”
Lara has moved between Cora and Hannah and put an arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Sweetie, it’s okay. Don’t let this ruin your night.”
“I’m fine,” Hannah says, but she uses the same sad voice. She is gazing upward, at a photograph of a woman and a little girl that is hanging on the wall at the top of the steps, the image projected into the space above the landing. Facial-recognition matching indicates it is Hannah at age 5 years and Naomi Dietrich (Hannah’s biological mother, date of death May 13, 2063).
“She shouldn’t have brought it up,” Mei says. She has narrowed her proximity to Hannah as well.
“I didn’t bring it up!” shouts Cora, who seems to have again fallen behind the others.
Hannah turns to look at her sister. She is now several steps above Cora, and Cora is staring at Hannah’s feet. “She never said you did,” Hannah says. “You don’t have to scream at me.”
“I wasn’t screaming at you!” Cora is leaning forward now, platysma flexed, making her neck look wider. Her fingers are tensed over her thighs.
“Oh my god,” says Mei from Hannah’s right side. “Let’s just go.”
Hannah turns and walks up the stairs. It appears that Lara and Mei have flanked her, and their feet are visible in the frame. She and her friends climb 2 flights before she looks down the center of the staircases once more to see that Cora hasn’t moved. “Come on,” she says. Her tone indicates a smile. Cheerfulness. “You don’t want to miss the fireworks.”
“I don’t like fireworks,” Cora says.
Lara groans. “Come on, CC. If you make us miss the opener, I’m going to be so pissed.”
Cora lowers her head and walks slowly up the stairs.
Hannah and the other 2 girls proceed up a spiral staircase. The overhead door at the top slides open, revealing a starry night sky. Sounds of distant music are audible. “God, I love it up here,” Hannah says as she steps onto a fenced-in deck area.
“You are so lucky,” says Mei.
“You’re lucky to be my friends,” says Hannah, and Mei smiles, possibly in response to a smile from Hannah.
“And here’s the luckiest one of all,” announces Lara. Hannah turns to see Cora climb awkwardly onto the deck. She rests briefly on her hands and knees. Lara makes a derisive noise. “Are you some kind of animal?”
Cora clumsily gets to her feet and wraps her arms around herself, as if she is cold. However, the temperature reading on Hannah’s Cerepin display shows that it is 87 degrees Fahrenheit.
The deck glows with surface lighting, and Hannah glances toward additional chip lighting embedded in the brick chimney. “Franka, lights level two please. If it’s too bright, we can’t see the fireworks properly.”
The lights dim. “Also,” Hannah says, “could you have Gretchen bring us drinks? I made punch. It’s in the refrigerator.”
“The beverage you reference is not available. Drake disposed of the unauthorized container,” Franka says.
“Because of Gary’s rule about alcohol,” says Cora.
“‘Because of Gary’s rule about alcohol,’” Lara repeats in a high-pitched voice. The tone suggests mockery and contempt. “God, CC, and you’re probably the one who told on us, aren’t you?”
Cora looks away quickly, turning toward the National Mall, where the Washington Monument stands. Hannah follows her gaze. Cross-referenced aerial photographs indicate the monument is surrounded in a wide perimeter by skyscrapers, currently not visible. It is possible their lighting has been turned off in preparation for the reported fireworks display.
�
��You did, didn’t you?” asks Hannah.
Cora does not answer.
Mei clucks her tongue. “She totally did.”
End of vid capture, 9:59 p.m., July 4, 2069
10:07 p.m., July 4, 2069
Cora is standing on the railing of the deck. Her entire upper body is tensed. Her eyes are wide; her lips are pulled downward and apart, revealing her teeth; the fingers of her left hand grip the brick column of the chimney while her right arm is out to assist her balance. “I’ll do it,” she shrieks.
“Get down,” shouts Lara.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Mei says quietly, repeating the phrase over and over.
“Cora, your actions have created a significant risk to your safety,” Franka states. “If you do not return to the widow’s walk, I will notify your parents and emergency services.”
“Shut up, Franka,” Cora screams. She slams her right hand over her ear and closes her eyes. Her body sways in response, and she throws her arm out again.
Hannah gasps. “CC, please.”
“Stop calling me that! I know why you call me that!”
“It’s just a nickname,” Hannah says. Her voice is level and soft. “Because I love you. Please get down.”
“You’re such a liar!”
“I know you’re upset and scared. I know you were nervous about coming up here. But you’re with friends, and we care about you,” Hannah continues.
“Yeah,” says Lara. “We really care about you.” Her tone is ambiguous. Depending on the tonal-coding rubric applied, it could indicate understated sarcasm or mild concern.
“Oh my god,” Mei says again. “What if she jumps? Would she die?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Cora asks. Her arm is still out, acting to balance her body. “You’d like it if I was all smashed up.”
“Cora, I am required to notify authorities if you do not comply with intervention directives within one minute,” Franka says. “You have thirty-five seconds.”
“She could jump in less than one,” Mei says loudly.
“Is that a suggestion?” Lara mutters.
“CC, just get down.” Hannah’s tone now suggests either fatigue or boredom.
“Not until you take it back,” Cora says. The deck and chimney lighting has increased in intensity from the previous vid capture. The light reflects tears on Cora’s cheeks.
The sound of explosions, presumably the planned fireworks display, is audible, echoing as the noise bounces off the skyscrapers. Behind Cora, the sky is illuminated with white and blue and red light.
“Figures,” Lara says, very close to Hannah’s ear. “Crazy Cora ruins everything again.”
“What are you saying?” shouts Cora. “What did you just say?”
“What does it matter? Are you going to jump down here and attack us?” asks Lara.
Cora becomes still, her mouth half-open, fireworks exploding behind her. Then she gasps as Hannah rushes forward. Hannah’s hands, her fingernails decorated with waving American flags, grab folds of Cora’s sweater. For 1 second, it appears that she has pushed Cora backward, and Cora screams, her arms reeling. But then Hannah grunts, and her arcing cam perspective shows her falling backward. Her breath is propelled forcefully from her lungs as her back makes impact with the deck and Cora lands on top of her.
Mei has been screaming during this epoch. Lara shouts, “You’re crushing her.” She leans over and grabs two handfuls of Cora’s sweater. Cora rolls or is lifted off Hannah. Hannah is wheezing.
Mei kneels at Hannah’s side. “Are you hurt? Are your ribs broken or something?”
“Medical scan indicates no fractures, Hannah,” says Franka. “But your respiration and heart rate are out of normal range, as are Cora’s.”
“She’ll be fine,” Hannah says. “Just give her a minute.”
Hannah turns her head to see Cora, who is audibly crying. She is hunched over and facedown on the deck, hands covering her face, knees pulled up beneath her. Hannah focuses on a hole in the back of Cora’s sweater as fireworks pop. “I’m glad you’re okay, CC,” she says. “But what you just did was really dangerous. Were you trying to hurt yourself?”
Cora says something, but it is indecipherable because of her hands covering her mouth. The movement of her back and the audio suggest convulsive sobbing. Hannah rolls over and pats her back, but Cora jerks away from her.
“Just let her be,” says Lara. “God. You just saved her life.”
“She’s my sister,” says Hannah. “I just don’t understand why she got so upset.”
“You’re so nice to her, way more than she deserves.” Mei reaches over, perhaps to smooth down Hannah’s hair, then grasps her hand and pulls Hannah to a standing position. “God knows you didn’t ask for this.”
“She can hear you,” Hannah observes. Cora is still sobbing. It is not clear whether she hears. She displays no unambiguous external cues.
“Let’s just ignore her and watch the fireworks,” Lara says. “We shouldn’t let her ruin our tradition. We tried to include her, but obviously she doesn’t want to be with us.”
Hannah turns and looks down at Cora, who is still in the fetal position and still crying intensely. “Come on, CC. Get up. The fireworks are pretty.”
Cora does not give any external indication that she hears Hannah. The other two girls are having a muttered conversation at the opposite end of the deck, but Hannah’s auditory sensor is not set at levels that enable transcription.
Hannah raises her head and looks out at the fireworks. “Okay. I give up.” She moves closer to the railing. She watches the fireworks for the next 19 minutes. After 11 minutes, 13 seconds, Cora’s sobs either stop or become quiet enough that they are obscured by the sound of the fireworks.
End of vid capture, 10:34 p.m., July 4, 2069
2:26 p.m., July 5, 2069
Dr. Dietrich is sitting at the desk in his library, examining an open book in a glass case before him. He turns when Hannah quietly says, “Dad?”
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, his neutral expression quickly becoming a smile. “I was hoping I’d see you before my dinner meeting. How was last night?”
“Good.” Hannah’s tone indicates sadness, however. She directs her gaze out the window, toward the river. When she looks back, her father is no longer smiling.
“If you’re down about the punch Drake threw out, you should know that’s totally on me. And you. You know better, Hannah.”
“I wasn’t the one who wanted it! Cora asked me to make it, but then she must have felt all guilty about wanting to drink, so she tried to blame it all on me.”
“But you’re supposed to look out for your sister.”
“Trust me, I’m trying.”
Dr. Dietrich furrows his brow. “What’s up?”
“Did you check Franka’s safety logs, by any chance?”
Now Dr. Dietrich appears alarmed. He gets up and gestures Hannah over to the couch, where she sits down next to him. “What happened?”
Hannah sighs. “I don’t even know, Dad. It happened so fast.”
Dr. Dietrich looks toward the hallway. Hannah does as well. “Is Maeve—” she begins.
“She’s with her trainer,” he says. “Just tell me.”
“We went up to watch the fireworks, me and Mei and Lara and Cora, and she just snapped. She freaked out, maybe about the sound? I know she’s edgy about loud noises.”
“So why did you take her up to watch the fireworks?” There is a tone of bemusement in Dr. Dietrich’s voice. “Seems like an odd activity for someone who doesn’t like to hear things go boom.”
“We didn’t want her to feel left out,” she explains. “You said to make her feel included, and I’ve been trying so hard. Lara and Mei are, too. And Finn. All of them feel sorry for her. They try so hard to be nice to her, but she can be so mean, Dad.” Hannah looks down at her hands, which are clasped in her lap. “And sometimes violent.”
Now Dr. Dietrich sighs. “We’re consider
ing interventions.”
“Is Maeve on board with that?”
“She’s getting there. But she’s protective of Cora.”
Hannah moves her hands, and now a long scratch is visible on the back of her left hand. It is scabbed over and runs diagonally from the first joint of her fifth finger to the base of her thumb.
“Did she do that?” Dr. Dietrich asks, his tone sharp.
Hannah covers the injury with her other hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Hannah.”
She looks up at her father. “I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
He stares at her. “Do I need to increase the surveillance in your wing?” he asks. “I’ve been giving you girls privacy like you both wanted, but—”
“Okay! Okay. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want her to think I’m tattling. She hates me enough as it is.”
“Maeve says she loves you, Hannah. Cora just struggles with this kind of thing.”
“Whatever.” Her tone suggests that she is skeptical. “We were up on the widow’s walk to watch the show, and Cora climbed up on the railing. You can watch it for yourself on Franka’s surveillance feed if you want. We had her privacy settings on for a little while, but I turned them off when Cora got out of control, and good thing, too. Franka had to threaten to call the authorities—twice.”
“My god,” Dr. Dietrich says, glancing upward.
“She wouldn’t get down.” Hannah’s voice has increased in pitch. Her breath is audible, hitching, indicating extreme emotion. “I was afraid she was going to jump, Dad. I really was.”
From the movement of Hannah’s cam perspective, it appears that Dr. Dietrich has pulled her into a hug. She focuses on the dark hairs on his forearm. He releases her. “She got down on her own, though?” he asks.
“No, I pulled her down. If she’d jumped Franka couldn’t have done a thing. It was just us up there. I had to do something.”
“And that’s how you got hurt.” He takes his daughter’s hand and holds it out, examining the scratch.
Hannah tugs her hand out of her father’s grasp. “I really thought she was going to die. I didn’t want her to die, Daddy.” Hannah begins to cry.