Regenerate

by Emily Goldthwaite

  So, how do you like being assigned to work with Lander?” asks Zeph as she, Raxtin and I head to our math unit Friday morning.

  I catch Raxtin’s posture straightening.

  “It’s good. I think I’ll be able to get it done all right.”

  Zeph closes both hands around Raxtin’s arm, her walk more resembling a saunter. “Do you two get along well?”

  I drag my palms over the stiff ridges of my pencil skirt. “Sure. Well enough to do an assignment without killing each other.”

  Her lips pinch tight and she rolls her eyes at me. “Come on, Averi, you know that’s not really what I mean.”

  Of course it’s not, but why are you trying to have girl talk when it is clearly not just us girls? “That’s all I really care to say right now, honestly. I’m still getting to know him.”

  I glance sideways at Rax and catch him watching me. We both look away quickly. Our secret meetup later this evening doesn’t help things feel any less awkward between us.

  “Lander is really arrogant and presumptuous if you ask me, Zeph,” says Raxtin. His stride is wider now, and his shoulders are tucked up like a bear.

  “Raxtin!” scolds Zeph, smacking his chest. “He’s our friend. How could you think that?”

  “Just saying how I really feel,” he says through his teeth. “We sucked him into our little group before we knew who he was, or a thing about him.”

  Zeph lets go of Raxtin and crosses her arms around herself. “I think that’s unfair of you.”

  Raxtin shakes his head, his jaw muscles twitching. “Averi, why does he call you Shrieker?”

  His question stuns me and I fall a step behind the two of them. “Um, I got startled the first time we met, and I kinda screamed in his face.”

  We reach our unit and slow our steps just outside.

  “I don’t like it,” Raxtin says. He adjusts the weight of his shoulder pack. “Averi, you be careful. If you ever feel like you need more people around, you give Zeph or I a chat ping, and we’ll be there. Ok?”

  I’m trying not to smile, but his level of concern for me feels nice. “That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks, Rax.”

  Zeph reaches for the door panel and makes a sound in her throat. “And also a little dramatic, Rax.” She looks back and forth between the two of us then heads inside.

  I don’t care if she is upset; I appreciate that at least one of my friends has my back.

  It’s been years since I’ve been to the hydro towers. The building is completely sealed off to the outside world to keep out any and all contaminants. It’s a completely closed system that never needs human attendants. I used to come and press my face against the poly-plex to see inside. I had a specific window I’d look through that had the best view. I’d watch the machines harvest crops and put them on the conveyer belts to ship out to the processing plants. All our food comes from here. Except, I guess, those fish Lander showed me.

  I step closer to the clear, poly-plex window. My eyes scan my childhood “spot” and I smile. I was always so happy here. The plants inside may be off-limits, but they’re real, not artificial or sterilized hybrids. They are simply themselves.

  Seeing them reminds me of the little plant I found and picked. It’s real too. Then my heart sinks. It’s also completely wilted and dropping some of its leaves, despite all my efforts to save it. I don’t know what more I can do to help it live. I know people say it’s just part of life, but why does everything have to die?

  I press the palms of my hands onto the warm, smooth surface of the window and lean my forehead against it. Inside are neat rows of shrubs and green towers of vines. Their bright fruits and flowers are the same as they ever were. It makes them seem immortal. Most of these plants cycle through life over and over, but somehow they always look the same. Perfect and beautiful, exactly as they are.

  I pull back and stare at my own faint reflection. I don’t look the same. And I don’t know that I’m really the better for it. “Where are you, Averi?” I whisper to my reflection, then frown and scrub my hands over my face.

  Someone clears his throat behind me and I whirl around. “Oh, it’s you.” I exhale loudly, my hand over my stomach. “How long were you standing there, Rax?”

  The arch of his thick, dark eyebrows looks soft and his eyes warm. A smile is playing at the corner of his lips, revealing his deep dimples. “Not long.” He comes closer and stands beside me, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” His tone makes it really more a statement than a question, but still I nod. “I love the constancy of this place,” he continues. “It’s always here, always producing, and we don’t have to do a thing.”

  He turns and looks at me, searching my gaze. “I know you’ve been through a lot these last few years, but I hope you know I’ll always be here for you.”

  The back of his hand brushes mine and my heart leaps in my chest.

  I bite my lower lip. “Thanks.”

  We stare at each other for a moment. A cool breeze picks up and rustles the dark, short strands of his hair in a way that makes me want to comb my fingers through it. I can hear the heavy, pulsing beat of my heart in my ears. Warm energy vibrates between the nearly touching skin of our hands and arms.

  Raxtin wets his lips and opens his mouth as if to say something, then shuts it again. Abruptly, he buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and his gaze drops to the ground.

  I look away too. The lingering tingle on my arm now feels more like a painful ache. I wrap my arms tightly around myself.

  He doesn’t look at me, but I can see his expression scrunch into a scowl, glaring at the dirt. “You cold?” he asks.

  I shake my head and loosen my hold on myself.

  He looks up to the top of the tower. The light catches on something circling his left arm. His re-router. Why is he wearing that right now? Does he always wear it? I rub at the tiny, grain-sized scar on my own left arm. If anyone were to check where I am right now, it’d show I was alone.

  “So where are you right now?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.

  He leans sideways and turns to look at me, his brow squished together in a question.

  I nod towards his arm and point. “Your re-router. Is it on?”

  He pulls a hand out of his pocket and rubs it over the band. “Oh, yeah. It is.” He clears his throat. “I’m at Jett’s right now, working on his bi-ped cart with him.”

  I still can’t get over how much bulk his biceps have now. It’s nice. “If the Organizers figure it out, do you think they’ll do anything to you?”

  “Other than take it away? I doubt it. I’m a GAP, what can they do? We’re needed too much.”

  “Good. It’d be sad if they sent you to another village or something.” Those words stick in my throat more than I thought they would.

  He rocks back on his heels with a private smile. “Well, if they do, then maybe they’d send us together.”

  Before I can respond, Raxtin slips his pack off his back and pulls out a small green box. He places it into my hands without touching me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Your birthday present. Open it up.” He nods towards it.

  I slide off the lid and inside is a silver-and-copper band. Alongside the band is a flat, disc-shaped object. I draw a sharp breath. “Is this what I think it is?”

  He grins. “I don’t know, what do you think it is?”

  I feel too hopeful to even ask, just in case it’s not what I suspect. “A . . . re-router?”

  He nods, rubbing a hand over his own band. “Yep.”

  “Rax, thanks! I don’t even know what to say.” Without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him.

  His hands slide around my waist and hold me tightly to him. “I’m glad you like it, Ave. I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

  The use of my shortest nickname, the one only he uses, fills my chest with warmth. He hasn’t used it in a long time.

  Our embrace lingers, and
I wish so bad I could just freeze and bottle this moment forever. It’s not the first time we’ve ever hugged, but the first since Gran’s funeral, and it’s never quite felt like this before.

  Zeph’s face comes into my head, and I loosen my arms, pulling back. “Did you already make one for Zeph?”

  Instantly I regret my question. Rax lets go of me completely like something suddenly burned his hands. Maybe it’s his conscience. He clears his throat and drops his gaze to his feet again, kicking at the synthetic lawn. “Uh, no. Not yet. I thought you could probably use it more. Besides, she can always borrow mine if she wants.”

  And that’s why he didn’t want to give this to me with our friends around. I feel bad, like I ruined his gift. “Thanks, Rax. This is really incredible. I can’t wait to use it.”

  He smiles, but it’s clearly less happy than before. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it. I wrote instructions in the box. It’s pretty straightforward, though.”

  My Pocket Palm vibrates, and when I check it, it’s Mom. Why on earth would she be calling?

  “I guess I’d better answer this,” I say, and he nods.

  I keep it on closed circuit mode so only I can hear and see, just in case. “Mom?”

  “Averielle, a handsome young man is at our door looking for you. He says his name is Lander. Your activities report said you are at the hydro towers with zero companions. What are you doing there?”

  Crap! I lost track of time. "Oh! I forgot. I’ll be home as quick as I can.” I end the chat and turn to Raxtin.

  His shoulders look more drooped than before, and his arms hang slack at his sides. “You need to get going?” he asks.

  I nod and realize I’m biting the inner corner of my lip again. I guess I do do that sometimes. I wish I could stay and make things right, but I don’t know how I would.

  “Me too, I guess,” he says.

  We go to hug goodbye but end up in an awkward side-hug-and-handshake thing. I hate this! Why did I open my mouth?

  I mount my bi-ped and hear him doing the same behind me. Then I place my foot on the pedal.

  “Averielle,” he says.

  I turn toward him.

  “I’m glad you were born.” He gives a crooked smile with a twinkle in his eyes and pedals away.

  When I walk into my front room, Lander is there, seated on our long chair. He glances me over and his eyebrow twitches up in question. I’m not reporting anything to him, if that’s what he’s expecting. Thankfully, I stowed the box from Raxtin in my purse next to my shears.

  “Go on an adventure?” he asks.

  “A trip down memory lane,” I answer.

  He crosses his arms and tilts his chin up, his eyes saying that he thinks there’s more to it. “Nothing like a nice quiet jaunt by yourself, to clear your head.”

  Even if he tracked me, he couldn’t know I was with someone; Rax had on his re-router. Still, the way he says it makes me uneasy.

  I cross my arms too. “You’re early. You said seven.”

  “And you said you had stuff to do.”

  “A walk down memory lane is stuff to do.” I check the time on my Pocket Palm. Seven ten. “Are we going to work on the project or not? It’s getting late.”

  He stretches his arms out across the back of the chair and slides deeper into his seat. “I am fully prepared to pull an all-nighter if we have to.” He smirks and winks.

  I can feel the color trying to rush my cheeks and it makes me scowl. The last thing I want is for Mom to burst in here quoting the Courting Protocol and Protection section of the P.P.P. right now. “Would you stop it already? I hate it when you do that.”

  His hands raise in the air and he glances around. “Hate what?”

  I scowl at him. “When you talk like a sleaze ball.”

  He straightens and his mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

  “Look, I can tell it’s not even really you,” I say. “It’s like a weird act that you put on. So whatever the reason you do it, I’d appreciate it if you drop the act with me.”

  He blinks once or twice. “I’ll . . . do my best,” he says, his tone subdued. I think he actually means it.

  I take a deep breath. “All right. Then I guess follow me. Our main frame is in here.”

  I lead him to the small room across from my sleeping quarters, where our home system is located. It’s not very big, but at least you can fit several chairs at the console.

  I click my way to the correct government database and find the section called “GAP records,” then open the tab with the newborn vids. I place my fingers on the halo-keys, ready to type. “Ok, let’s start with yours.”

  He places a hand on mine and my stomach does a flip. “Actually, I think it’d be best if we start with yours,” he says.

  I stare at his hand resting on mine. My heart is going a little too fast. “Why start with my video? Aren’t you curious to see yours?”

  He chuckles once. “Not really. I’ve been told I was a pretty ugly baby.”

  I turn toward him, and he’s closer than I expect. I can’t help glancing him over. Yeah, right. He couldn’t look ugly if he tried. “Ok sure, whatever. Fine, I’ll check out mine first.”

  His hand finally lifts, and I take a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

  Lander slides into the chair next to me. “Whoa, is this real wood?”

  I nod without looking.

  He laughs a little, tracing the lines of the chair with his hands. “Look at it. It has four legs and everything! You never see stuff like this.”

  “Yeah,” I say, a little distracted. “It was my grandpa’s old chair from back in the day. It was one of the few things they kept when the Migration happened.”

  I hear wood creaking beside me. “You can not do this in an air chair, that’s for sure,” he says.

  I glance over my shoulder at him, and he’s tipped it back onto two legs, resting against the wall. “Um, maybe you didn’t catch the part of it being an antique?”

  He wriggles his eyebrows at me with a pleased smirk.

  His playfulness is frustratingly attractive. I turn back around. “Oh, forget it. Just don’t break it.” I get the feeling his positioning isn’t so much for comfort as it is to better watch me. Stop imagining weird stuff.

  I type my name in the appropriate search box and up pops a file. I draw a long, deep breath. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly nervous. How different can the videos really be? They’re each five minutes of a squirmy newborn in a warming box, cooing at a screen of their parent fixed above their face. Maybe I was a crier, or maybe I looked brain-dead like a test-tube child. I don’t know. But whatever the reason, I’m nervous. Something about this video feels significant.

  My finger hovers above the button to play it.

  “So are you going to click it or leave us both hanging here for another hour?” asks Lander.

  I shake my nerves, toss a glare in his direction, then press play.

  At first, lines of fuzzy static fill the screen, then it clears. My name and birth date are time stamped at the bottom. I scoot closer and strain my eyes to make sure I’m seeing things correctly. My mouth falls open and my body tenses. The footage is of a warming box that is completely empty.

  Chapter Eight

  In the video, the glow from the screen where my Mom’s face is being broadcast reflects off the four small walls that house nothing in between. My name is even blinking in digital letters inside the box itself.

  The other two legs of Lander’s chair tap as they make contact with the floor beside me. He scoots up closer, shoulder to shoulder with me, and is likewise scowling at the footage.

  He wipes his eyes and blinks, then shakes his head. “What the—?”

  A younger version of my Mom’s voice picks up. She’s baby talking to the space of warm, empty air. Seriously? She’s not even looking at the screen. “Hi, Avery! Aren’t you so sweet, honey! Oh, just a second, someone’s commenting on my share. Oh, it’s my friend Janice. Oh,
she thinks you’re a cutie too. Oops, and here’s someone else . . . hold on . . . just let me check this.”

  “I can’t,” I say, and hit pause. I wrap my arms around myself and squeeze till my ribs hurt.

  Lander looks over at me. “Aren’t you going to finish?” He nods towards the recording.

  My hand flies out at the screen like a knife. “Finish what? My Mom cooing to an empty box? Oh, or my Mom ignoring the baby in the box, if there were a baby there to ignore?”

  Lander raises his palms, his voice an uneasy chuckle. “Whoa, easy there.”

  I work my jaw back and forth. “Look at the screen. Where am I? Doesn’t somebody somewhere care or even notice that the stupid warmer is empty? I’m missing!”

  He puts a hand on my arm. “Take a breath, Averi.”

  I do, and it feels tight. I’d better chill out or Lander’s going to watch me have an asthma attack again. I breathe several more times till it loosens.

  “You’re not missing, Averi. You’re right here. With me.” He gives my arm a gentle shake and then a squeeze.

  I sigh and scrub my other hand over my face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I’m such a moron.

  “It is strange though,” he says. “Mind if I fast forward and see if they put you in at some point?”

  Why didn’t I think of that? I’m so stupid for getting worked up that fast. I shrug. “Go for it.”

  We watch in fast motion to the end. Not only am I never placed in it, but the vid is only three minutes, not five.

  Lander sinks back in his chair, folding his arms and resting his chin on his fist. “Where else would you be?” I can tell it’s rhetorical. His heel taps against the leg of his chair as he thinks. “Was there anyone else there, do you know?”

  I shake my head. “It was just my Mom. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t get there till . . . I’m not sure when, actually. I just know they came later.” Seeing how observant Mom was at my birth, how did I survive any amount of time till they got there?

  A heavy weight settles in my gut. “Guess I’ll have a pretty short report to turn in.” I can’t hide the cynicism in my voice.