Catalyst

by Lydia Kang

  “Uh, Blink. Why don’t you go upstairs for your eval.”

  “Avec plaisir,” she says simply, walking up the stairs.

  “Yes, go far, far away,” I whisper. But my angry words don’t make me strong. I feel petty. I feel weak.

  Caliga waves her hand to the row of monitors. “Sit down. The instructions are starting soon.”

  I take off my necklace and put it back in my pocket, then take a seat. A detached voice enters the room as Basic Information scrolls across the holo screen.

  “Welcome to the Inky registration process. Please place your F-TID on the pad, so that we may download your existing information.”

  “Oh! Hex’s fake fingers!” I yelp, and run to my duffel bag. I totally forgot to soak them in nutrient water like he said. I almost retch when I find the two disembodied digits. One is rolling over and over like a gray elliptic worm, and the other is bluish and looks dead. Gross, gross, gross. “Hex is going to kill me!” I wail.

  The holo screen asks for my F-TID again and I break out in a sweat.

  “What are we going to do? They’ll know we’ve been off the grid,” Caliga moans.

  The holo screen voice speaks calmly. “To start your new life in Inky with a clean slate and decline an F-TID download, please say, ‘New ID.’”

  “Oh, for freak’s sake. New ID!” I almost yell.

  “New ID process has begun. By declining review of your previous F-TID, any accounts and positive moral credit are void. You will be started as an entry-level citizen.”

  Huh. “Entry-level citizen” could mean I’m licking toilets in the near future. I wonder how many young women chose to enter Inky because they were morally bankrupt.

  I glance to the right, and Caliga is patiently answering questions. She doesn’t seem nearly as frazzled as I am. The holo screen asks more questions, like next of kin, family contacts, personal medical history, family medical history, sexual and fertility history. The lies come out of my mouth faster than Vera can yoga-cize into a scorpion pose.

  “Please place your hand on our data pad for a blood test.”

  A small pad slides out of the wall. On it is the outline of a hand, where I’m supposed to lay mine down. There are holes in the pad where I’m sure needles are going to pop up to bite me.

  “Are you doing the blood test?” I ask Caliga nervously.

  “You have to,” she responds calmly. As if she’s entered Inky a thousand times before. “I tried to refuse, and it said we’d be returned to Neia if we don’t comply.”

  I take a huge breath and lay my hand down. The hand pad grows warm. The monitor shows my vital signs being recorded, then tells me not to move. Suddenly I feel a pinch in my middle finger. Then another and another, in other fingers.

  “Ow!” I jerk away from the pad and stare at the pinpricks on my hand.

  “Thank you. We will be testing your general health status; communicable diseases; fertility status . . .”

  Oh no.

  “. . . any genetically inheritable diseases; your risk for violent mental instability . . .”

  Are they kidding? No, they’re not.

  “. . . and of course, prenatal testing, such as karyotype and drug susceptibility.”

  I should just walk out with my hands up as soon as the train reaches its destination. Maybe I should put the cuffs on now, just in case. I turn to Caliga, who’s wiping the blood off her hand with an antiseptic pad.

  “Just so you know,” I say. “We’re totally screwed.”

  “I know. Screwed to kingdom come.”

  I laugh, but it’s the laugh of the almost-incarcerated. The holo screen changes to black and white. It asks me to read the full bylines, regulations, and laws of Inky.

  What I’m looking for, hiding between the flagrant lying and horrible baby-making agenda, is stuff about HGM 2098. It’s noticeably absent. I’m both relieved and worried. The holo screen dims to a pale yellow. Which is how I feel inside, after going through the process of becoming an Inkyan. Slightly fermented and impure.

  “Thank you for completing your registration process. Please place your left hand in the designated opening for a welcome gift.” A glowing orange circle appears in the wall next to the screen.

  “Maybe it’s optional,” Caliga wonders, but I’m too distracted by the warning bells in my head. Sandwiched between “Never talk to strangers” and “Never run with scissors” is intuitive, new advice that says “Never stick your limbs into dubious holes in the wall.”

  So I just sit there, opting out. The orange circle flashes insistently. Stubbornly. After a full minute of this, the holo voice starts talking again.

  “Please place your left hand in the designated opening.”

  “No.”

  “Please place your left hand in the designated opening.”

  “Dammit, I said no.”

  “Please place your left hand in the designated opening, or your application to Inky will be incomplete.”

  Oh. So there’s the truth. It’s not a gift; it’s a requirement.

  “Is it going to hurt?” I ask.

  “The placement of your gift is painless.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It is a State-sanctioned holo bracelet that receives Inky transmissions. Your previous holo studs will have no reception here. You will be able to tune in to our informational channels, communicate with your new family, and access crucial information needed for your transition to Inky.”

  “We don’t really have a choice,” Caliga says with a sigh.

  I know she’s right, so I put my hand into the orange circle, which switches to a pulsating apple green. The hole squeezes around my wrist, followed by a burning sensation. At the precise moment it becomes unbearable, the heat dissipates, leaving a cool heaviness around my wrist. The green light winks off and I take my hand out.

  There’s a red bracelet that weighs hardly anything adorning my wrist. The surface of it is carved with flowers and vines, and there’s a single black dot embedded on the surface. I recognize it as a holo port. I try to look for a hinge or something, maybe a hidden clasp, but there is none.

  I try to spin it around, but it’s too tight. It’s molded to perfectly match the contours of my wrist. I try to pry it off. It won’t budge.

  “This is bad, bad, bad,” I say, shaking my head. Caliga is studying hers, which is identical to mine.

  The holo voice blasts back on, and I jerk back in annoyance. “Congratulations! You have now been accepted as a citizen of Inky, with a Level One pass. Please put on our regulatory gowns. A group leader will guide you to your new home. May your stay with us be bountiful and blessed! Welcome to the township of Coventry, State of Inky! You have been assigned to residential group Avida.”

  Blink comes down the stairs, fingering her matching bracelet. Caliga pulls open the closet where the uniforms are hanging. Once I wrestle one on, I’m as fetching as a slab of concrete. Caliga sits on a chair, swimming in her cloak. Her face is blanched and sweaty.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  Caliga shakes her head. “Dizzy. And I’m feeling cold again, even with this thing on me.”

  “Hopefully they’ll have antibiotics where we’re going.”

  “That’s one problem. What if they know about our traits already?”

  “They know. Inky is Eugenics Central. They said they’d do a karyotype. My chromosomes scream ‘freak’ like no one else’s. Believe me.”

  The magtrain finally comes to a stop. The compartment lock disengages with a slippery click and the doors slide open.

  A cloaked figure stands waiting for us, blocking our exit. His hood is so huge, I can only make out a clean-shaven chin and unmoving lower lip. The cloak is bright red, rippling like a cascade of blood.

  Caliga and I exchange uncertain looks.

  “Um, we’
re supposed to be with . . . Avida, right?” I say.

  The man pulls his hood off to reveal short brown hair. A pair of amber-brown eyes engage mine.

  My mouth drops open.

  Caliga isn’t stunned like I am. Her hands cover her mouth, then fly away, unable to contain her joy.

  “Micah!”

  CHAPTER 10

  OH HELL NO.

  What the hell is Micah doing here?

  “Oh my god!” Caliga says in a burst. “What are you doing here?” She takes an eager step forward, but Micah thrusts out a hand to prevent the embrace.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Caliga falters. “I forgot . . .”

  Micah’s eyebrows rise. “You forgot?” His observant eyes travel from Caliga to me, standing close and unaffected. He registers this, internalizes it. He sees Blink too and he pauses on her as well. Blink immediately drops her eyes as if she’s been scolded.

  “Why are you here?” I growl. The last time we were in the same room, he was burning his handprints into my arms. He’d brutally attacked Dyl. I’m one breath away from punching him.

  “I was sent here to check on one of Avida’s R&D labs a month ago. After I heard about the attack, I stayed.”

  Caliga narrows her eyes at his answer. “Why do you get to meet us here?”

  He shrugs. “I’m a favorite.”

  “Oui. You have that effect wherever you go,” Blink says softly.

  I narrow my eyes. “It’s convenient that you skipped out on seeing Aureus destroyed.”

  “That was pure luck. I had no idea that would happen. But I think I know who did it.”

  “Who?” I ask, trying not to sound desperate for information.

  “We’ll talk soon. But not here. In the meantime . . . welcome.” Micah holds his hand out to shake mine.

  “You try to touch me, you’ll be missing body parts soon,” I reply evenly.

  “Please, allow me.” Cy steps to my side in his white cloak. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkle, aflame with anger as he lifts a fist. As his sleeve slips down, my eye catches something streaky and pink on his arm. He rubs it absently.

  Micah isn’t fazed. “Go ahead and hit me, Cyrad. Show them how unstable you are.”

  We all glance over to where Micah gestures. Several guards in purple cloaks stand only twenty feet away, carefully watching the passengers disembark.

  “If you want to be safe, you’ll have to come quietly,” Micah says. “You need to learn how to survive in this place.”

  And then head to Chicago as soon as possible, I think. I turn to Cy, who stares at Micah with a fury I’ve never witnessed before.

  I am going to kill you, Cy says, and I’m going to enjoy it.

  Cy’s lips don’t move, and everyone around us exchanges worried glances. A raw, awful scent of burning plastic emanates from him. Rage. He’s holding back, but barely. I put my hands on his fists, trying to calm him.

  “Cy,” I whisper. “Not here.” Micah puts a possessive hand on my shoulder. I try to shrug him off. “I said don’t touch me!”

  And then I feel it. A light-headedness that grows rapidly worse. I quickly find my necklace in my pocket and put it on, but the dizziness doesn’t go away. I stagger with my arms splayed out, trying to steady myself, when I see Caliga’s eyes unfocus. Her eyes roll back and in a second, her knees buckle and she’s on the ground in a heap. Micah makes a useless grabbing gesture to the air and falls next, followed by Blink.

  Darkness infects my field of vision. Suddenly, I can’t feel the train platform under my feet. I can’t tell up from down. The last thing I see is the passionate violence in Cy’s features transform to utter surprise. And then my vision turns off, like a storm winking out the midday sun.

  Everything becomes nothing as unconsciousness takes me.

  • • •

  FROM THE DISTANCE, A VOICE CALLS TO me. It’s oceans away.

  “Zelia!”

  I blink to see Cy’s blurry image hovering over me. I whip my arms up to shield my face. It’s just a reflex.

  But seeing that one gesture, Cy backs away and his face turns into despair itself. “It was an accident— I didn’t—” He drops his voice to a shattered plea. “Oh god. I’m sorry, Zel!”

  I sit up slowly. A pounding headache blossoms, far worse than the hypoxia headaches my Ondine’s curse has bequeathed in the past. My hand goes to my throat and my necklace is still there. Blink, Micah, and Caliga are all getting to their feet, clutching their heads and trembling. We’re surrounded by three purple-clad guards, all pointing their neural guns at Cy’s chest.

  The fact that he hurt Blink as well as Micah tells me it was a mindless accident, as if he’d thrown a grenade when all he needed was a punch. The violence of it sweeps my reality away for a clear second.

  Cy would never hurt me. But he did.

  One of the guards barks, “Someone want to explain what happened here?”

  What happened? There was nothing to see. No swinging bat, no arm following through on a hit. Only Cy, standing as guilty as can be.

  “Shall we deport him?” One of the guards gestures at Cy with the silver snub tip of his gun. Cy’s eyes are hollow, watching me. As if I’m the one to decide if he should be deported or not.

  “Please. Don’t. We were just . . . feeling a little faint. Right?” Caliga and Blink keep their distance from Cy and me. And because of Caliga, everyone is spread out even more. We’re all afraid of each other, in one way or another. “It was nothing. Really.” I spin around to catch Caliga’s eye. She’s rubbing her temple and her face is lined with fear.

  Caliga nods reluctantly. “Yeah. We’re okay now.” Blink nods too.

  The two guards step back. “Very well. I believe you have a mag waiting, sir.”

  Micah shoos the guards away. He points at Cy. “Keep that under control, or you’re on your own. Got it? I can’t protect you if you can’t protect yourself. Or her,” he says, glancing at me. Cy closes his eyes and steps away.

  “Yes, Micah.”

  The meekness of those two words kills me. Is this what it was like the whole year in Aureus? I reach for Cy’s hand, but he pulls away from me, crossing his arms and clawing his fingers harshly into his biceps. He won’t look at me. He won’t look at anyone.

  Crowds of gray-cloaked people, with an occasional white indicating a male, are already funneling out the exit with their red-clad leaders.

  “Look.” Caliga points.

  Two people lag behind the crowd. One woman is trying to pull her gray hood forward to cover her face, but it doesn’t work. Her face is absolutely covered in hair. It’s tawny-colored fur, short, and sleekly spread over her face and neck. She looks like some sort of missing link between humans and . . . lemmings or something.

  Another girl is latched to her arm, but this one looks ready to faint at any moment. Thin, stringy blond hair sticks to her temples. Her skin—or what I think is her skin—is peeling away in papery, translucent sheets. Under the peeling skin, her hands and her face are cracked and bleeding. Blood crusts the edges of her tightly dry lips. If she tried to speak, the words might tear her cheeks wide open.

  Micah calls out to them. “Avida? Right here.” The two murmur a few words, then slowly walk over.

  Micah leads us all into a glass-covered atrium. People leave through various doors, accompanied by their new leaders. Out of curiosity, I hold my bracelet up to my face. “Show me a map of Inky.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s going to help,” Micah says.

  I ignore him. A pink holo screen pops up from the black port on my bracelet. The rose icon of Inky’s holo provider, I-VIEW, appears. “Map of Inky,” I order it.

  A small octagonal area appears. At first I think it’s a mistake. Inky isn’t an octagonal State. It’s supposed to look like a lumpy L shape. But there are flat lines that look like do
ors and windows, and a little island in the center.

  “Wait a second.” I scan our surroundings. This isn’t a map of Inky. It’s a map of this magtrain atrium. So Level One clearance only gets us to the doors of this stupid station?

  Just then, a young girl with striped red-and-black braids breaks apart from a line of people waiting to leave the atrium.

  “No. I can’t. I’m going back to my mom,” she says as the leader makes a grab for her arm. “I’ll take the magtrain back. I don’t care about the stipend. I’m goin’ home.” The guards smirk knowingly at each other but don’t try to stop her. The girl dashes to the arched doorways leading back to the magtrain platform.

  A muffled bang echoes inside the atrium. We all cower defensively, trying to dodge whatever caused the shot or explosion. The only person in our group who hasn’t flinched is Micah.

  The girl screams. Her shriek echoes so loudly that the building itself sounds like it’s in agony. She hits the ground hard, her legs scrabbling and twisting in the heavy fabric of the cloak.

  Two guards walk calmly over. “Not a normal day without at least one runner.”

  One of them speaks into his red bracelet. “Medical and sanitation to the atrium please.” Together, they pull her back through the arch and into the atrium, leaving a trail of smeared red blood on the pristine floor. The girl moans repetitively, Why why why why why.

  Blood pools by her body in shades of scarlet, coming from somewhere I can’t see.

  “Aren’t they going to help her?” I ask. I automatically turn to Cy. He was the medic when we lived at Carus—I’ve had only a year of holo training. But Cy’s still in shock. He seems terrified to do anything. When no one makes a motion to help her, I run forward to the girl’s side. She’s clutching her right arm, and crimson stains her cloak darkly.

  “Oh geez, you’re hemorrhaging.” I bend closer. “Shh. Calm down. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding.” I lift her arm and a thin spray of cherry-red blood shoots out. Instinctively, I grab her wrist and she howls in pain. It’s squishy and hot, and bone shards meet my palm.