Blue Hearts of Mars

by Grotepas, Nicole

  “Awful. I’m exhausted and all I’ve done is lay around.”

  “Dad should be here in a bit. He’ll make you laugh.” I’d been with her all morning, switching with Dad when he came home to eat and clean up. Before that, I had been awake all night, working out my plan with Hemingway and Sonja. She left at three in the morning and then Hemingway and I tried to sleep for a few hours. It didn’t work much for me. All I could think about was our plan. How we were going to make it work and if it would work at all. So much hinged on unknown variables. All we could do was try.

  I sat by Marta’s side for another hour, chatting about mundane things, getting her to laugh as much as possible, and suppressing the fears that grew like a dust storm at the edge of my conscious. When dad finally arrived, I kissed both of them hurriedly and then took off. On a mission.

  *****

  I ran through the streets of our borough, panting, out of breath immediately. The cleansing sprinklers were passing over the borough, raining down on the city. Water gushed over the pavements and into the sewers where it returned to the treatment facility and was distilled until clean. My clothes stuck to me as I went, searching for and finding the appropriate street and building, and then I burst through the glass doors into the foyer and took the elevator to the right floor.

  I pounded on the white door a few times. A muffled barking started up on the other side of the door.

  It swung open finally and Isaac began jumping at my legs happily. “Retta! What’s with the banging on my door like it’s the end of the world?” Sonja looked me up and down. “You’re dripping wet. What are you doing here?”

  Sonja wore blue silk pajamas, covered mostly by a matching robe adorned with pink and red birds in flight. She wrapped the loose robe around her and clutched it tightly to her chest.

  “I need your help,” I said, between breaths—the elevator ride had been too short to catch my wind.

  She hesitated, as though debating. “Well, I was just waking up. We had a late night.”

  “I know, I know, it’s OK. But I need you to do something for me. If you will.” I stared at her, biting my lip, hoping she’d say yes.

  The woman rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Come in,” she said, finally, opening the door wider and gesturing for me to enter. “Now then. What is this favor you so desperately need that you’d run through the city-rain. What? What is it?”

  “It’s Marta,” I said, walking in and closing the door behind me. I reached down to pet Isaac.

  “Ah,” she answered in that velvety voice. She strode into the kitchen, her robe trailing behind her like silk wings. “Your sister?”

  I followed her into the kitchen with Isaac close on my heels. “Yes, her heart is getting worse, and the doctors have no idea how to help. They said they’ve never seen her condition before. Worse, they have no plans to try to fix it. They said it’s hopeless. Her heart is just weak. It keeps getting weaker every day.” It all came out in a rapid stream.

  “Slow down, slow down,” she said, waving her hands. She pulled some containers out of her fridge and began making breakfast. “Doctors are idiots these days,” she winked at me. “All the best minds go into synthetic life engineering, you know. There’s money there. No money in healthcare. Been that way for years.”

  I nodded and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Your father told me she has dilated cardiomyopathy. It sounds advanced. I don’t blame you for not putting your trust in the medical establishment. It’s corrupt and weak. But I don’t know that there’s much I can do. I know androids. Not humans. So now, what is it you want me to do?” She glanced at me as she made her breakfast.

  I hesitated and bit my lip hopefully. “Make a heart for Marta. A new heart. A blue heart.”

  Sonja stopped and stared at me. “Really?” she asked at last, butcher’s knife poised over the cutting board.

  I nodded vigorously. “Can you do it?”

  She put her knife down and stared into space as though thinking, the fingers of one hand caressing the red curves of the pepper she’d been chopping. “Yes. It’s always been possible,” she said, then began muttering to herself—answering questions, saying no, then offering another answer. All to herself. I waited patiently.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “I’ve never worked on humans, though. Just androids. And the question is, do you really want your sister to have one of these hearts? It will make her half android.”

  “Just with an android heart?” I asked, incredulous.

  “The heart is the most important part of the android.”

  “But the androids have human blood,” I pointed out.

  “Which assimilates with their android metals. It carries more than just oxygen and nutrients around. And,” she inclined her head, “that almost makes them part human. But no one dares think of it like that.”

  “But don’t we have minerals in us, which are like metals?”

  She pointed the knife at me. “I love how sharp your mind is. Hemingway chose well.” She nodded and began chopping again. “Yes. We do. But there are still distinctions.”

  “Wait, wait,” I said, waving my hands. “We don’t have time for this. If you’ll do it, we need to do it soon. Her heart is giving out. I’m not sure how much longer it will last.”

  “I don’t have a heart with me, girl,” she said, putting her knife down and pursing her lips at me. “I can’t just hop over there and give her the heart.”

  I looked around the room, frustrated, feeling Marta’s life slipping away as we conversed and dallied. “Then where? What will it take? She’s dying, Sonja.”

  “Synlife. You have to break into Synlife again, steal a heart, bring it to the hospital, and we’ll operate.”

  “Can’t we just ask them if we can have one?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Hardly, dear girl. You think they’ll just part with one of their hearts? So easily? No. They’re more valuable than gold.”

  “But you’re not a doctor, can you just cut her open and put the new heart in?”

  “No, we’ll need a doctor to help. I’d feel confident operating on an android. Not a human. That’s the only thing these pathetic doctors can do these days—cut open, slap a few organs around and sew up. No attention to the finer details. Just sawing around. I imagine after I watch, I’d be able to do exactly what the doctor did, only with more finesse and care.” She shook her head and her wild hair bounced around her face.

  I waited for her to finish, anxiety building up in me like the wave of a massive dust storm. “OK.” I nodded to myself. “Break into Synlife again.” No problem.

  “Where’s Hemingway?” Sonja asked suddenly, looking up from her pile of chopped vegetables.

  “At my apartment. Working on our masterpiece.”

  “Good. The timing will be crucial. I only hope we have enough of it—time, that is.”

  “And I hope that you can help Marta before things get worse.”

  “That too,” she said, pointing the knife at me again and nodding thoughtfully. “It’ll be alright, just go get the heart. I’ll finish up here, dress, and head over to the hospital.”

  “Break in during the day?” I stared at her, doubtful, feeling overcome with new fears.

  “You said yourself we need to hurry.”

  “Yes, but before I broke in during the middle of the night.”

  “Heavens, must I do everything? Alright then, let me tell you what to do.”

  Really, did she expect me to just know?

  She went to the Gram in their great room, turned it on and began explaining what I needed to do. I watched as a three-dimensional image of the Synlife building popped up. I tried to pay attention, pushing away the image of Marta sick and weak in bed, dying slowly. At least I had a plan now.

  26: Theft

  Mei met me four buildings from the Synlife dome-scraper, in front of a small bakery. The smell of cardamom and cinnamon wafted towards me as I waited, my stomach beginning to growl. My eyes f
elt sticky and my hands shook as I again inspected the plans Sonja had sent to my Link.

  “Retta?” A voice at my shoulder asked.

  I turned. “Mei!” I fell toward her, giving her a hug.

  She pulled away and slapped me on the back. “Hey cowgirl!” She looked me up and down. “What the heck, woman? You just disappeared. I haven’t seen you in weeks. Thought you were dead or something. In fact, I should smack you around a bit for ditching me like that. And what’s with the disguise?”

  “It’s been—” I bit my lip, “it’s been crazy, Mei. I can’t even tell you. But it’s good to see you. Thanks for coming.” I shook my head, to indicate just how crazy it had been, and let out a deep, telling sigh. I hoped it was telling. That was what it was for, anyway. I pulled self-consciously on a strand of black hair. A wig. I was also wearing sunglasses and Sonja had covered my face in makeup—metallic embellishments on my cheeks and a rainbow lipstick.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” She rubbed her hands together, her black-painted nails glinting in the afternoon light. “What are we doing? You going to explain the costume?”

  I nodded my head toward the Synlife dome-scraper. She turned, taking in the towering building, the polished redstone walls gleaming in the sun and the dark windows reflecting images of the city around it. “No way.” She spun back to face me, her long black hair flipping around her like the wings of a blackbird.

  “Yeah,” I said, sadly. “I have to go in again, thus the disguise. Come with me.”

  “Why? What for?”

  “Marta needs a heart,” I said quietly. A group of people came out of the bakery, stopped and acted like we were in the way before moving on. I took Mei by the arm and pulled her away from the bakery, to the corner of a cross street where the crowds of pedestrians flowed at a regular, oblivious pace around us.

  “Is this a joke, Retta?” Her head tilted back as she inspected the Synlife building again. It looked so evil now that I knew some of what went on inside.

  “No, it’s true. She’s in the hospital, dying from some weird condition where her heart swells until it doesn’t work anymore, or something. And the doctors,” I shook my head, fighting back tears, “they’re so stupid, and you know how awful hospitals are for regular people like us. It’s like they don’t care. Hemingway’s mom agreed to put an android heart in her if I can get one.”

  “So we have to break in and steal a heart? An android heart? Really? You’re going to put an android heart in her? But she’ll be a . . . a cyborg. A cyborg, Retta.”

  I grimaced at the horrible word. “I don’t care. I mean, cyborg. That’s just a term to scare us. Think of it, Mei. The androids have human blood in them. Have you thought of that? Does that make them half-human?”

  Her brow furrowed. “No, well, I guess, I don’t know. Maybe? I haven’t thought of it. But Retta, we’re afraid of being like androids. It defines us as humans.”

  “I don’t care. What makes me human is something greater than that. I’m not the sum of my organs. I’m something else. Like, my relationships. I’m the way I treat people. The way I love them. I’m how I love Marta, my dad, you, them.” I swept an arm out to indicate the sea of faces moving beneath the dome-scrapers. “I don’t care if the heart was made in a womb or in a laboratory. If it works, we can use it. So, are you with me? I have to do it now. She needs the heart as soon as possible.”

  “It’s crazy!” she shouted, pushing me in disbelief. I almost fell into the street in front of a scooter. I caught myself and exchanged angry shouts with the driver who veered away from me just in time. I turned back to my friend, hoping she’d made up her mind.

  She bit her finger thoughtfully, ignoring how she’d nearly killed me. Her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “But I’ll do it. I want to do it. I love crazy.” Her dark eyes gleamed wickedly at me. I laughed, feeling a gust of relief wash over me. I hugged her quickly.

  “Thank you. Oh man. I did not want to go in there alone.”

  I went over the plan with Mei, showing her on my Link where the hearts were kept. We discussed the particulars of getting inside and procuring the heart. Then we did a little pep talk for each other—“we can do this,” “we rule,” and “this will be cake,”—and headed for the building. I pretended to not be daunted by the towering, monolithic building even though I was.

  We entered through the glass doors of the foyer and approached the security desk. An escalator went up to a balconied second floor where four elevators waited. There were people in business attire milling about, talking, taking sips of coffees, and there were others in lab coats looking harried as they rode the stairs, repeatedly glancing at their Links. One panicked-looking man with a shiny, bald head and large ears appeared to be having a conversation on his Link. “No, we need them ASAP, Rodrigo, you understand? The agreement was that you’d round up twenty-five thousand units. You’re short three thousand and that doesn’t cut it. I have three directors breathing down my neck. This is your—”

  “Hello,” a voice interrupted. I pulled my eyes—and ears—away from the conversation. I knew what it was about and it sent a waterfall of ice through my torso. I stared at the security guard before me. He was at a wide desk in the center of the expansive lobby. “Can I help you?”

  Clearing my throat, I launched into the fabrication crafted by Sonja. “Hi, I’m here to visit my grandfather. He works on the 72nd floor. Jaska Koho.” I smiled politely, doing my best to seem innocuous. I clasped my hands behind my back casually to hide the fact that they were trembling.

  The security guard glared at me, his pale blue eyes studying me and then flicking to Mei. He was seriously daunting and I interlaced my fingers behind my back to hold them steady. Sweat seemed to pour out of them as I stood still, smiling benignly at the guard. His blond hair was clipped short and he wore all black, interrupted only by a small name tag with the name Emil upon it. “Koho? How many grandkids does that guy have, anyway? I swear there’ve been two others in the past week.”

  I laughed and looked at Mei, trying to appear cool. “Yeah, those are my cousins.”

  “Right, well, they would be, wouldn’t they?” Emil passed a DNA matcher over the desk to me. I pressed my thumb down on it and felt the electrical jab. He pulled it back over the desk and glanced down at it. I held my breath until he spoke. “Great. Take the third elevator up to the 72nd floor. Here’s your pass. You’ll need it to activate the elevator. He’ll be expecting you.”

  I nodded, my mouth going dry as I took the pass and turned to leave.

  “Hold up. This your friend?” Emil asked, gesturing to Mei. “She’ll need a pass too.”

  Mei pressed her thumb to the DNA matcher too and the guard gave her a little square pass as well. “Stick it to your shirt,” he said. “It’ll stay there.”

  I raised the pass to my chest. It whirred and twisted, binding with the fabric of my clothes. Mei did the same.

  “Be sure to check with me on your way out,” Emil said as we walked away. “And tell Jaska hello from little Emil,” he called after us.

  As we rode the escalator up to the balcony, Mei whispered, “Little?” She glanced back down at the bulky man, sitting there with the glossy black desk surrounding him and security holograms flickering behind him. “That has to be a joke between them.” She turned back to me. “How long do we have before they realize that we didn’t go to Jaska’s office?”

  “Less than fifteen minutes.” I took a deep breath, willing the trembling in my hands to stop. It would look really suspicious if I couldn’t be casual.

  It’s just your average stroll through a multi-trillion markka company. I do this all the time, I told myself.

  There were others waiting at the elevators—several men and women in business attire. Mei and I were silent as we boarded the elevator and punched in our destination. The 27th floor. This was the floor where the hearts were built and stored. And it required the same clearance that visiting Jaska Koho required. I wasn’t related, but apparently Sonja knew
the man—they’d had a . . . well, a fling, according to Sonja. But he was married. So it was something she guarded. She visited him in the day, from time to time, claiming a relationship to him—cousins. The woman had a DNA mask just for that purpose. Something she’d made before leaving Synlife. She had me slip the mask over my thumb before leaving her apartment. The DNA mask blended perfectly with my skin. I stared down at my thumbs as we rode up to the proper floor, going over what I’d do next.

  “I feel like I’m in a holo-film,” Mei whispered, watching me study my hands.

  “Yeah,” I said, absently. “Just remember what you need to do if anything goes wrong.”

  “Right, take the heart and run,” she said. “I got it. Don’t worry about me.” She flicked her hair over her shoulders, rubbed her hands together, and grinned. “I love this crap.”

  “Be careful, Mei. This is for Marta. Not us. Her life depends on how well we pull this off.”

  “Yeah, yeah, right.” She cocked her head at me. “It’s all under control, Retta.”

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

  *****

  It was as Sonja said it would be. The elevator opened straight into a room full of glass chambers that had robotic arms within working on half-built hearts. The lights over the long, wide room were tinted blue and a few people in lab coats and goggles were bent over Gates next to glass chambers, buried deep in their work.

  The entire floor stretched on like that: chamber after chamber filled with synthetic hearts; gauzy, red tissues being knit together across a thin, fine framework. We stood there unnoticed, mouths gaping, before Mei slipped away, hiding at the end of one of the rows of a column of tables. I followed before any of the technicians saw us.

  “We have to get to the other end,” I whispered to Mei as I crouched beside her. “That’s where the finished hearts are.”

  Mei nodded and gestured that she would lead.

  We scrambled down to the next row, looking for an empty aisle. The room was filled with a mechanical hum, making it hard to hear where the technicians were. I peeked around the corner, my shoulder butting against the thick leg of a table. There were two technicians nearby, their faces nearly touching the glass partitions of the chambers. I twisted back and motioned Mei to move to the next row. When it was clear, we jumped across the aisle to hide behind the next row of tables.