by E. E. Giorgi
“There’s a chance the droids didn’t even see him. He probably collapsed before he got within their shooting range.”
It’s the same story Lukas heard from his uncle Akari. I still find it hard to believe. “He must’ve felt something, must’ve gotten a warning sign from the nanobots embedded under his skin.”
Uli presses his lips together. “None of that happened. And everything recharged just fine once hooked back to the TBC.”
I ball my fists and shake my head. “I can’t bel—”
“Let me show you something,” Uli interjects. He crouches by one of the cabinets and pulls out a partly disassembled TBC—the transcutaneous chargers we all use to juice up our batteries. He puts it on a cart and rolls it over to my chair. “This is Skip’s TBC.”
I stare at it. The metal box is open. Uli uses a screwdriver to gently pull a red wire tucked behind the capacitor.
“Corroded terminals,” he says, showing me the end of the wire. “All the other parts of the charger are well maintained and protected, but this right here—looks like somebody purposely wiped out the protective compounds and applied corrosive.”
It’s happened, I think. What I’ve been fearing all along. The Mayake people, the peaceful ones, the ones who’ve sworn off violence after the last carnage against the Gaijins, are now turning against one another. There’s no more solidarity or obedience when it comes to survival.
Mom slowly gets out of her chair and walks over to Akaela, blissfully unaware of what’s going on. She leans over her and caresses her forehead, a gesture I rarely see Mom doing these days. She’s always too preoccupied with other stuff, especially since Dad left.
Uli taps the TBC with the rubber tip of his prosthetic fingers. “There’s a traitor among the Mayake people,” he says. “Skip’s TBC had been tampered. It was giving wrong readouts, making it look like the battery was recharged when in fact it wasn’t.”
Mom shakes her head and gently lifts the flap inside Akaela’s forearm. “We’re facing tough times ahead,” she says, looking at me. “Look after Akaela, Athel. Look after her,” she repeats, and then wakes her up.
Chapter Seven
Akaela
Today it’s raining ashes. They pelt softly against my face and clutter my lashes. I like to pretend it’s snow, even though it’s dry and doesn’t melt away.
Even though I’ve never seen snow.
The wind blows in the smoke and hides the sun, making everything look gray and colorless. I pat Taeh’s side and prompt her to a gallop.
I need to be by myself, just Taeh and I, by myself and away from the people, the dullness, the monotony of the days spent at the Tower listening to Mom complain about the world.
I miss Dad.
Another Mayake has died, a young girl this time. She was only ten and had outgrown her mechanical heart. By the time they were ready to implant Skip’s heart in her young body, it was already too late. The girl died as they were performing the surgery. Both Skip and she were mourned today. Wrapped in white sheets, the bodies were released down the Bridal Veil waterfalls and into the Kawa River Bend, where the currents grow faster and fiercer. The water will carry them to better lands and better lives.
That’s what we, the Mayake people, believe.
What I believe, I no longer know. Right now, I feel only emptiness and it’s bigger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
I press my heels into Taeh’s stomach and make her run faster, tears melting the ashes on my face.
The procession has dispersed now, the echo of the flutes and drums lost in the river together with the two bodies. The melancholy notes of the music still ring in my ears. I ride to the bottom of the cliffs and listen to the water chant its way through the bend, hoping to glimpse the flap of a white sheet or a whiff of red hair as it moves on to the next life. But by the time I reach the bottom, the two bodies have already vanished, claimed by the brutal strength of the currents.
The waterfalls used to be more massive and fiercer, I’m told, before the Gaijins built their wall of fire. More water came down to our land, the riverbanks wider and fuller. Despite what I’m told, they’ve always looked big to me. And now they look cruel. They took my cousin away.
I rub my eyes and wail, the river a blur as I smear ash-dirty tears on my face.
* * *
Athel’s horse Maha is still in her pen when I get back. I feed both Taeh and Maha, clean their pens, and tidy up the stables. The wind draws swirls of ashes on the ground and piles dust against the floorboards. Smoke has been marring the horizon ever since the Gaijins’ firewall went up on the other side of the mesa. The Mayake people never protested. The Mayake people are born to obey. We accept the ashes, just like we accept the fact that some people die and some live on, the fact that we are born crippled and we rely on implants and artificial wires to survive.
We, the Mayake people, believe in acceptance and obedience. When the wind blows in ashes, we sweep them away. When our people die, we toss their bodies in the river and move on. And when our people leave, we wait patiently until they come back.
To hell with that.
Normally I wouldn’t care, but today I take the broom and start sweeping—small chores that keep me from thinking about my cousin Skip’s body tumbling down the river rapids.
When I’m done, I wash my face at the faucet and use my fingers to brush the ashes off my hair. I’ll need a long shower when I go home, but the mood I’m in makes everything seem hard and meaningless, even a stupid shower. The only thought that cheers me up is seeing Ash again as soon as I get back. I didn’t dare take him with me this morning, fearing the Kiva Members at the procession would see him and question his implants again.
I close the pens for the night and line the bales of hay against the wall.
A loud clonk from outside makes me startle.
It’s too late to ride now, Athel, I think, but as I walk out it’s not Athel I run into. It’s the Metal Jaw kid, Yuri, with his brother Cal. The brother looks almost normal until he opens his mouth and smirks, flashing two rows of metal teeth and a gold stub at the tip of his tongue.
Gross.
I close the stable and pretend they’re not there. They don’t return the courtesy.
“Hey, Freaky Freckles!” Yuri says, because it would be too nice of him to call me by name. “Did you lose the cat?”
I walk away and don’t even look at them. After blanketing the solar panel fields in white ashes, the wind has finally subsided. The sudden stillness makes the landscape look spectral and beautiful, the Tower like a gray ghost staggering against an overcast sky.
“No use if you’re hiding the cat,” Yuri says. “My brother can find it in a snap, right Cal?”
Cal snaps his teeth together—they sound like sharp scissors snipping the air—and guffaws. “I sure can!” He braces himself and then adds in falsetto: “Would make such a nice coat for the winter.”
“Don’t you even think about it,” I snarl to his face, balling my fists.
The two guffaw out loud. I shake my head and start back home, determined to ignore them this time.
“Where’s your bro?” Yuri presses me.
“Don’t know,” I say. “I’m not his keeper.” I’m not good at determination, either.
Truth is, Athel has been acting weird all day. He hasn’t said a nice word about Skip or anything comforting to me or Mom about the loss. He took off as soon as the procession was over, and if it weren’t for me, Maha, his horse, would’ve starved today.
“Liar,” Cal snaps. He grabs my arm and pushes me, making me stumble backwards. “The bird’s up there. Your brother can’t be too far.”
He points up to the sky and I spot Kael’s black silhouette gliding over the cliffs. Yuri shoves his ugly face in front of me and snarls, “Tell your brother we’ve got a message for him.”
“You’ve got a tongue. Go tell him yourself,” I reply.
I try to break away, but they grab my hair and pull me back. I screa
m and kick Yuri in the shins, flailing my arms at them. Kael yelps in the sky and comes swooping down. At the sight of the falcon diving nose down, Yuri trips and falls on his bum. Cal doubles over and covers his face.
Kael dips and then rises up in the sky again, creating enough of a diversion for me to run away. They don’t come after me this time. They throw rocks and yell, “It doesn’t end here, bitch! We’ll get you next time!”
I run all the way back to the Tower without ever stopping to catch my breath. Up in the sky, Kael veers west and makes a dip toward the riverbanks. I slow down to a brisk pace and follow him. Yuri and his brother were right. Athel’s standing by Skull Rock, holding up his gloved arm for Kael to land. His friend Lukas is with him, seated on top of the rock with his data feeder propped on his bony knees.
I stomp all the way there and glare at my brother, fuming.
Athel barely acknowledges me, his attention on Kael. The falcon flaps his broad wings and lands gracefully on Athel’s arm.
“Good boy,” Athel says, rewarding him with a piece of meat.
“Two hours, seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds,” Lukas calls. “But I’m not sure he went all the way to—”
“Shh!” Athel interrupts him.
Lukas looks down and suddenly notices me. “Oops,” he whispers.
“What are you two up to?” I snarl.
Athel gives Kael another morsel and then pets him on the back. “Training,” he says, pretending to sound casual. “What do you want, Dottie?”
“I fed Maha. You’re welcome.”
He winces at me then fluffs Kael’s feathers. “One more time, big boy.” He raises his arm and rotates his wrist outwards. On cue, Kael takes off again.
I watch him rise up in the gray sky, so elegant and beautiful in his own element, and suddenly I feel small and wistful. I’ll never be able to fly like Kael, no matter how badly I want to. I can only jump and glide, let the currents show me the way. Rising up against the winds and choosing my own path is an impossible dream for me, achievable only through technology denied to the Mayake people. As I watch Kael’s silhouette rise and grow smaller, my anger dissipates like the ephemeral ashes that the wind blew over from who knows where. So I scuff the ground with the tip of my boots, turn away and go home.
Whatever they’re up to, I decide I no longer care.
Chapter Eight
Athel
Day Number: 1,531
Event: Another death, Alina, age 8.
Number of Mayakes left: 431.
Goal for today: Record a map of the mesa.
The open hall on the sixtieth floor looks haunted at night. Back when the Tower was a fully functioning hospital, this was the psychiatric ward. The north and west walls are completely gone, replaced by a loose curtain of vines dangling from the upper levels. The wind makes them sway and howls inside the hollow cavity of the remaining walls. I swear it carries the voices of the ghosts who once lived up here.
“Ghosts don’t exist,” Lukas says matter-of-factly. “If they did, we’d be able to measure their magnetic field with something as simple as a compass app on our data feeder.” He sits cross-legged on the floor and empties his satchel.
I don’t believe him. Lukas doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know how many times Akaela and I have climbed up here and listened for ghosts.
It’s not a pitch-black night. The moon is out. It winks through the vines and weaves silvery shadows on the floor. I stand on the ledge along the open wall and look down into the emptiness below. The smoke on the horizon casts a yellow glow over the mesa. I wish it didn’t. I wish the night were so dark I could count the stars and see the Milky Way sweep the whole vault of the sky. I lift one foot and for a moment I leave it hanging, dangling in the void while balancing on the other foot. My heart races. I imagine the plunge, and the thought alone sends adrenaline rushing through my veins. I’ve watched Akaela jump from this exact spot so many times. She has a gliding sail, I don’t. Yet I could never master what she does.
She perceives fear for others—though it feels as though she’s angry—but not for herself. Dad says her implants messed up something in her brain. Both our parents are convinced this glitch will kill her some day.
I don’t get why they’re so protective of her.
I’m jealous. Why didn’t I get the same implants Akaela got?
A dark shadow crosses the sky and squawks.
Kael.
I whistle and he veers elegantly in the air. I step back, pull the vines out of the way, and wave at him to come over. Kael swoops inside, flapping his wide wings, his movements stilted and awkward as soon as he touches the ground. He hops toward the back and then looks at me with his beak half-open.
Lukas is focused on the screen of his data feeder, blue light outlining his narrow face. “We need to make a map,” he says.
I whistle to Kael. “Fancy some dinner, buddy?” I pull a dead rat out of a plastic bag and drop it on the floor. Kael rabidly jumps on it, tearing off pieces of flesh with his sharp beak. “That’ll keep him busy for a while.”
“Good,” Lukas says. “Because I need some time.” He slides a cloth pouch out of his satchel and carefully unfolds it: inside are tiny little tools like tweezers, screwdrivers, and a bunch of RAM and circuit modules.
I sit across from him and watch as he thumbs the screen of his data feeder. “Where’d you find all that stuff?”
“Around. Mostly at the landfill. I told you I can find stuff out there, you just got impatient the other day.” He slides a pair of pliers out of the pouch and threatens me with a stern look. “Pop your eye out.”
I stare at the sharp looking pliers and wonder if this is such a good idea. “Are you sure about this?”
“Of course not,” Lukas says. Sometimes I wish the kid wouldn’t be so annoyingly rational all the time. “I told you we should ask Uli or my uncle to do this.”
“We can’t. They’ll never approve of any of this. We could get killed, and adults don’t deal well with that. Messes up their birthday calendar.”
Lukas smirks and shows me his empty hand. “Well then, what’s an eye when you could lose your life?”
Can’t argue with that logic. I pinch my right eyelid, lift it and pop the eyeball with my other hand. Lukas grabs the wire and helps me unwind its full length.
“We’ll include a transmitter,” he says. “I would deactivate it for now. Just in case.”
“Hell, Lukas, stop reminding me how wrong this could go and just tell me you know what you’re doing.” I flip open the flap on my forearm and deactivate the eye, cutting in half my field of vision.
“I do know what I’m doing,” Lukas protests. “But I can’t guarantee—”
“Just do it,” I say.
He snips off the wire that connects my right eye to my brain and then works on assembling the transmitter.
“See this?” he says, proudly showing me a little silver cube. “I got this from an old radio. It’s a 30MHz crystal oscillator. The images won’t be perfect, but it’ll be good enough.”
“I’m used to perfect vision.”
“Well then use your other eye.”
“You’re so funny, Lukas.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
Together, we encase my right eye into a little camera box, and then solder on top the transmitter he’s made with the oscillator from the radio. After we connect both the receiver and his data feeder to my USB ports, I reactivate my eye and test the camera. Satisfied that both my brain and his data feeder can visualize the pixels coming in, we move to the next part of the plan, which Lukas happily leaves to me.
Kael’s been sloppily banqueting on the dead rat. When he’s finished, he hops over and lets me ruffle his tail feathers. I croon softly to get him to cooperate as I pin the makeshift camera to the ring around his right ankle.
“Now don’t you go and lose this, Kael, or I might kill you.”
I’m not even sure he gets my words, but the bird bo
bs his head and squeals. I rub his head with the tip of my index finger, then don my training glove and let him hop on my arm. Back on the ledge, the night sky looks silver bathed in the moonlight. My heart starts pumping faster, as if I were the one about to take off. A piece of me is.
I inhale. “Ok, buddy,” I say, moving the vines out of the way and lifting my arm. “Just like we rehearsed yesterday, ok?”
Kael bobs his head.
“Good boy. Go!” At my signal, he spreads his wings and takes off. I watch him delve into the night, the pale rays of the moon glinting off his black feathers.
“Whoa!” Lukas shouts, holding up his data feeder. “This is awesome!”
“Let me see!”
I try to grab his data feeder but he whisks it away from me. “Dude! Just reactivate your eye.”
I hadn’t even thought of that. Heart pounding, I reach for my arm flap and hit the control key. My head spins instantly. I sway, as if somebody has suddenly yanked the ground from under my feet, and drop on my ass, the view before me fantastic and terrifying at the same time. I see the river, narrow and silver, as it wiggles away from the Tower and then vanishes inside the forest. The rocking, dictated by Kael’s flapping, makes me nauseous, yet I cling to every pixel the transmitter delivers to my brain.
Kael drops a few feet down, making my stomach churn.
“Whew!” I yelp.
“What’s wrong?” Lukas asks.
“Nothing. This is just… fantastic.” No way I’m gonna tell him I’m terrified.
Lukas doesn’t seem to register my emotional turmoil. “He’s going toward the forest. It’s the wrong direction.”
Kael draws a wide circle and picks up speed, rising again. I know he’s going with the thermals, the currents of warm air that rise from the ground. “He’ll get back on track,” I reassure Lukas. I keep my doubts to myself, as I watch the landscape expand below me. From up here, the mesa cliffs look like fingers looming over the expanse of the solar panel fields. Beyond them, the upper branch of the river snakes all the way to the edge of the mesa and then drops into the sheer veil of the waterfalls. Maybe he does it on purpose to make me squirm again, but Kael dives nose down along the waterfalls and into the mist of sprays, like a kid playing at a waterpark. He veers when he reaches the bottom and follows the surface of the river, the water so close to me now I scream again.