Akaela

by E. E. Giorgi

  Cal sniggers and Yuri clicks his tongue. “Who are you talking to like that, Freaky Freckles?” He pinches the piece of rope stretching over my face, stretches it, and then releases it until it lashes back like a whip on my nose. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make any demands right now, are you?”

  They both guffaw.

  “I’m not scared of you,” I snarl.

  I soon regret it. Yuri narrows his eyes and flicks his fingers. At the signal, Cal jumps on my back and twists the frame, yanking it from my shoulder blades. I try to bend backwards but Yuri grabs my hair, shoves my face down and holds the blade of the knife against my cheek.

  “I hate you, Freckles,” he says while his brother, saddled over my back, tugs at the frame. I hear the clangs and thuds of the metal bars and my eyes well with tears. With a swift movement, Yuri jerks his arm and stabs the sail. One last pull and the frame comes off my back. Cal laughs out loud, jumps to his feet and kicks the broken sail into the air.

  “How are you gonna fly now, little girl, huh?”

  He raises the twisted sail above his head and flaps it while running around in circles like a chicken. I say nothing, my face hot with shame and tears.

  Yuri guffaws at his stupid brother. He slides a finger along the edge of the blade just to show off and then presses it against my cheek again.

  “Look at you, Freckles. I could play connect the dots on your face. Carve ‘em all out with my knife.”

  I grind my teeth. “Go ahead and kill me. I’m already dead anyways.”

  He jumps over my back, shoves my head deeper into the ground with the heel of his hand and leans over me. I feel the blade tug at my shirt and cut it clean open at the back as he presses his cold metal face to my cheek and whispers into my ear, “When I’m done with you, you’ll wish I did kill you because that would’ve been a far lesser punishment.”

  I try to wriggle but the creep is too heavy, the net still tightly wrapped around my arms and legs. He slides the blade down to my waistline and grabs the hem of my pants.

  “You pig!” I yell, suddenly realizing what the piece of scum has in mind. “Don’t you dare—”

  Cal drops my sail and comes to kick me in the head. I yelp as pain bursts into my skull, hot tears trickling down my neck. I start choking, the pain so strong I can’t breathe. I wheeze for air as Yuri presses his full body weight against my chest. I shut my eyes and hear them guffawing, Yuri’s hands running over me while his stupid brother asks when will it be his turn.

  “Hey!”

  Yuri and Cal freeze.

  “Hey, you! What the hell are you doing?”

  I spring my eyes open. Uli. Sacred Kawa, that’s Uli’s voice I just heard!

  “Help!” I yell, spitting grass and dirt.

  The two pigs drop off me and run, leaving me tied up in the grass, my face covered in dirt. “Uli!” I scream. I hear him running toward me, or at least I hope it’s him and not the creeps coming back. As I’m lying face down in the grass, a net wrapped around my body, I jerk and yell Uli’s name, hoping he’ll see me.

  “Akaela?”

  Uli stoops down and rests a warm hand on my chilled skin. “Uli,” I cry. “Oh, Uli, thank you, thank you!”

  I feel his strong arms work the net around me, his voice soothing. “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok. What happened?”

  As he loosens the ropes around me, I try to explain, yet half of my words get swallowed by sobs. I stutter about Athel and the gorge and how we wanted to save Dad but ended up with a badly wounded Wes. I feel the net finally come apart. I roll over, sit up, and yelp, “Wes is in grave danger, Uli. You’ve got to help us. I think—I think he might die if you don’t come help us.”

  Uli stares at me and swallows, his face scrunched in worry and something else, something that takes me aback—is he not believing what I’m saying?

  I grab his arms and squeeze. “You’ve got to believe me, Uli. I’m telling the truth. Athel never meant to steal from you. All we wanted to do was save Dad and the other Ambassadors. And now Wes lost his leg and his open wound will kill him if you don’t help us.”

  “Ok,” Uli says, nodding. “Ok. I will help you. Wes will be ok. I promise.”

  He cups my face in his wide metal hand and I exhale a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper. I expect him to release my face and sprint into action. Instead he keeps staring at me, his fingers—the ones made of flesh—slowly sliding toward the back of my neck.

  I sense something and try to react, but by the time the impulse travels from my brain to my body, it’s already too late.

  Uli presses my deactivation switch and puts me out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Akaela

  I see lights. They dance before my eyes like shapeless ghosts. I can’t move and I can’t see anything but the dancing lights. There seems to be only black emptiness around me, waves of nothing lapping at my arms and legs.

  Where am I?

  I must be dreaming, and yet in the nothingness I’m floating in, I soon realize that’s impossible.

  I’ve been put out, I suddenly remember with unexpected sharpness. I can’t tell by whom or why, but I know, in the deep recesses of my brain, that I’ve been put out. And therefore I cannot be dreaming. I can’t be doing anything at all, locked into a vegetative state until someone decides to bring me back.

  I try to move my arms, but they feel like dead weights around me. No sound comes out of my throat.

  So then it’s true. I’m out.

  But I’m thinking.

  Or maybe dreaming.

  I’m so aware of my condition that I want to scream.

  Could I be a prisoner inside my own mind? Something went wrong when they put me out. Maybe the nanoelectric wiring installed in my nervous system was faulty and it failed to affect my brain.

  If that’s true, I’m doomed. I can’t talk, I can’t scream, I can’t do anything but think.

  What am I?

  “You’re special, Akaela.”

  I startle, the voice so clear in my head I want to turn and see where it came from.

  “You’re very much special.”

  Dad? I say. Or think. Because I can’t hear my own voice. I just see the lights dance and mock me with their subtle movements. But Dad’s voice—that I hear. Loud and clear.

  “Akaela!” he calls. And gradually the dancing lights take the shape of his familiar face, the broad jaw, the wide nostrils, the decisive brows. His features are blurred, though, floating in this non-space I’m in, this emptiness that feels soft on my skin.

  Dad. Is that you?

  He looks at me with sad eyes. “You’re in danger, Akaela. I wish I could save you. I did all I could. It’s up to you, now.”

  I frown. What are you saying, Dad? I’m not in danger. I—I just don’t know where I am.

  “You’ve been deactivated,” he says, his voice assertive. Definitive.

  I think of shaking my head, the void I’m floating in just a gentle breeze caressing my face. That’s impossible, Dad. How come I see you, then? How can I talk to you if I’ve been put out?

  “You’re special, Akaela,” he repeats. I feel annoyed. Even though he’s made of blurred lights dancing before my eyes, Dad is starting to sound like a broken record. I want him to stop talking. I want him to throw his arms around me and hug me because I haven’t hugged him in a long time. My heart aches, as though I know deep inside that Dad is far away, not here talking to me.

  And this is just a dream.

  Just a long, weird dream.

  “You’re not dreaming,” Dad says. “But you have to wake up. Fast, before it’s too late. If you’re seeing me now it’s because you’re in danger.” His eyes glaze over and squint, as he always does when looking at the date stamp on his retinas. “Today is May 5, 2204, and you are six years old. You’re sleeping, and when you wake up, you’ll be excited by a new enhancement: the retractable sail I’ve installed between your shoulder blades.”

  He looks bac
k at me, his eyes sad again. “So you’ll be able to fly, Akaela. Escape, should you need to. Because what you don’t know is that your new enhancements are far more than just a hang glider that will allow you to soar in the sky. I installed a technology that many among the Mayake people wish they had.” He looks down, lowers his voice. “That many Mayakes would kill for.”

  I startle and for the first time feel a jolt down my spine.

  What are you talking about, Dad? The Mayakes would never kill one another. The Mayakes—

  A bitter taste fills my mouth, the sudden awareness that what I just said isn’t true. I’ve been hurt before, by the Mayakes. I just can’t remember by whom right now, my memories stored away and unreachable to me.

  If only I could remember…

  I have this deep sense of longing, yet I can’t remember what it is that I long for.

  So I listen to Dad’s smooth voice as he speaks to me, to his sleeping six-year-old child, waiting to awake with a brand new toy to play with—my very own wings.

  I remember that, I suddenly realize.

  The day I got my sail, Dad held my hands, ran, and made me glide above his head.

  Remember that, Dad?

  But Dad isn’t listening to me. He looks away, following his own thoughts.

  “All Mayake people have nanobots installed in their tissues. They replicate with our cells, the nanoelectric wiring deeply embedded in every limb, every organ, every neuron of each one of us,” Dad says. “A technology so scary that it comes with a built-in deactivation switch. We all have one, a safety measure imposed after the riots of 2110, when a handful of A.I. killed thousands of people in Astraca.”

  I already know that, Dad.

  “Yet the Mayake people shall never be free as long as they carry a deactivation switch, the price they have to pay in exchange for a life they couldn’t otherwise have. Until you came around, Akaela.”

  Me?

  “What I’ve installed in your brain is a powerful tool, my child, one that could be devastating in the wrong hands. But I had a once-in-a-lifetime chance and I snagged it. I stole the Gaijins’ prototype and decided to give it to you, Akaela, because I knew I wouldn’t be around much longer to protect you. In fact, if you’re seeing this recorded message, I may no longer exist.”

  A recorded message?

  The sharp jolt of pain comes back and pierces through my chest. Every time the pain strikes, I become more aware of my body, of the space around me. I can now hear my breathing, slow and shallow.

  No, Dad, no! I try to scream, though no sound comes out of me. What are you saying? How can I see you if you’re not real? How can I even dream of you if I’m deactivated?

  “You have Li-air batteries, the most advanced technology available these days. Most of us have to recharge every few months. Yours can last years.”

  I frown and the muscles on my face scrunch with anger. That’s why I never feel like I need recharging!

  “Your mom and I made a decision when you were little. We agreed not to tell anyone about your batteries. That’s why we still make you recharge every so often, like everyone else. But that’s not all, Akaela.” He looks down as though searching through his pockets, and then his hand emerges through the hologram to show me a tiny, transparent chip.

  “This,” Dad says, holding the chip between thumb and forefinger, “is what makes you so special. DBSE, or deep brain stimulation electrode, a paper-thin brain implant inserted at the base of your skull. This is where I’m recording this message right now. The DBSE has the power to overwrite whatever stimuli come from your regular control panel, including the deactivation switch.”

  I stare at the transparent strip of plastic he’s holding. Green parallel lines form jagged networks over its shiny surface. My hands and legs start to tingle, yet when I try to flex them, it’s as though my brain can’t find them.

  Why? I ask. Why the implant, why me?

  Dad’s hand blurs back into the dancing lights. He looks stern now, like when I was little and I knew I’d done something that disappointed him.

  What’s wrong Dad?

  “The DBSE can override your outdated implants. It can bring back your consciousness and restore your normal functions. But the will to do it—that very first impulse—has to come from you. You can override your own implants. You can do it, my child. You will do it.”

  How can I be seeing ‘this message’? Where are you, Dad? Where are we?

  The features of his face start dissolving.

  Dad! Wait! Don’t go!

  The pain comes back and jolts straight through my heart.

  No, Dad. Please don’t go.

  His voice echoes in my head, his face melting into a million wavering lights. “Wake up, Akaela. You have to wake up.”

  Wake up. How? From what?

  My body aches. The floating sensation gradually gives way to something else, a hard surface I’m lying on. It’s cold and I find myself shivering.

  Wake up, Akaela. Wake up.

  The dancing lights turn darker and dimmer. They flicker in my vision as though I’m about to faint.

  Where am I? Why am I dreaming?

  Dad said I’ve been deactivated. By whom? I try to remember and the effort itself is painful. No, it’s not the strain, it’s the memories that are painful. They’re lodged somewhere deep inside my skull. I can almost visualize them, a bright red blob pulsing between the crevices of my brain. And then, right beneath one of the folds, I see the electrode, the deep brain stimulator Dad told me about.

  Wake up. The electrode can wake me up.

  I’m in danger. Something bad happened to me, something hurtful. I see the glistening of metal shine before my eyes. A boy. A boy wanted to hurt me so bad it was worse than killing me. And then somebody saved me. Somebody kind, somebody who was there to protect me, to…

  Uli.

  Uli put me out.

  The jolt strikes me again and this time my whole body hurts.

  Chapter Twenty

  Akaela

  It’s pitch dark. I blink and see nothing. I blink and my eyelids feel so heavy I struggle to keep them open. I shiver, the surface I’m lying on hard and cold.

  I can feel it.

  I’m awake.

  I’m no longer floating in the black nothingness. I have fingers, toes, arms, legs. I can move them but it takes an incredible effort. Even to think requires effort.

  I just want to go back to sleep.

  My feet and legs are naked. I’m wearing something that feels thin and rough on my skin, like a paper gown. A red light blinks by my side. It casts an eerie glow on the machine around it. Dials. Knobs. A cable. An LED indicator with numbers that keep rising. Eighty-eight-point-five. Eighty-nine.

  My head spins. I’m extremely weak, as though all my energy is being drained from me, sucked away from—

  Ninety-one-point-three.

  I raise my left hand and the act itself seems herculean, my own arm weighing a ton on me. I drag my fingers over to my right arm and trail them down to my control panel, its cold metal hidden beneath my skin. I find it, the jacks and switches exposed. I grope for the TCB port and find a cable plugged in.

  A cable…

  The machine with the red blinking light is a TBC, a transcutaneous battery charger.

  I’m recharging. Uli put me out so I could recharge and I just awakened myself.

  But if I’m recharging, why am I so—

  My thoughts trail off. A wave of dizziness seizes me. I roll over and gag, the strain leaving me completely wiped. My eyes stray back to the TBC, its blinking red light showing me the world in flashes.

  Ninety-three-point-nine.

  The cable snakes from the flap on my forearm back to the machine, the numbers on its indicator growing.

  The realization catches me unprepared.

  I’m not recharging.

  It takes me ten long seconds to pull myself up. I grab the TBC and roll it closer, groping for the switches at the back. My head is spinning
, my stomach lurching. I’ve seen the dials before. Dad taught me. Green switch up, red down: charging. Green down, red up: discharging.

  And that’s how I find the switches at the back of the TBC. Green down, red up.

  The TBC is not juicing me up. It’s taking the juice away from me.

  I cling to the machine and collect my last drop of energy to push down the red switch. The counter stops at ninety-eight-point-two.

  Now the green one.

  You can do it, Akaela. Come on.

  My energy level is at less than two percent. I grip the machine and collect the very last of my forces to pull up a switch that would normally take the flick of a finger to move. And as soon as I flip it, I drop back on the hard table I’m lying on and exhale. The counter on the LED display drops to 1.5, my current energy level. I close my eyes and breathe, juice flowing back into me. The surge of nausea slowly passes, the buzz in my head fades. Lucidity strikes me.

  I wasn’t recharging.

  Uli put me out to kill me.

  I spring my eyes open. It’s still dark, the blinking light on the TBC now green instead of red. I press the inside of my wrist and check the time. Three forty-five a.m.—the middle of the night.

  Where am I?

  I’m not sitting in one of the recharging stations in Uli’s workshop. I’m lying on a hard surface, a stainless steel table, I realize, brushing my hands along the sides. Could I be in the auditorium? Did Uli give me up to the Kiva Members and they executed the Niwang without even giving me a chance to defend myself?

  I hold my breath and listen for noises, steps, voices.

  A pipe clangs through the walls, a board squeaks—familiar sounds. I’m inside the Tower. The LED display reads sixteen percent now—still not enough for me to yank the cable off and run. I can’t risk it, yet every minute I spend lying on this table brings me closer to being found and caught, this time for good.

  I hear muffled thuds, coming closer.

  Steps.

  A key in a lock, a door that opens. A sliver of light, then the click of a switch. A surgical light goes off over my face. I squeeze my eyes closed, forcing myself not to move. Even with my eyes shut, the light is so strong it makes my lids twitch. I curse myself for being unable to hold still.