vN: The First Machine Dynasty

by Madeline Ashby

  There was, Amy realized. "Where are my parents?"

  The ranger blinked. "I'm sorry?"

  "My parents," Amy said. "I have to get back to them–"

  A light swooped overhead. "You have to get to safety, first," the ranger whispered. "Get going."

  • • • •

  In the car – an old family-style number with the name of the battery on the side in big curvy letters, like it was somehow special – they found blankets and maps. They were in the Olympic National Forest, in Washington. "Wow," Amy said. "I really am a long way from home."

  Javier turned to her. He looked at the map, at her toes curled over the edge of the seat. He sucked his teeth for a moment. "Look, you can take this or leave it, but I think that ranger was right. It's a bad idea for you to try going home right now." He grimaced at the road. "You never return to the scene of the crime, right?"

  "I didn't even commit a crime! I didn't do anything wrong! I just intervened!"

  Javier's hands briefly left the wheel. "Hey. Whoa. Do I look like a cop?" He glanced briefly in her direction. "Anyway. You don't have to explain anything. The less I know, the better. We'll find a rest stop, and you can ping your folks from there."

  Amy smiled just thinking about it. "Thank you."

  Javier shrugged. "I'll have to leave you there, though. We're fugitives, so your parents' tubes are probably being monitored. The moment you make that connection, I'm gone."

  Amy hugged her knees. "OK." She nodded to herself. "Thank you. For taking the risk. If you ever come back down south again, you should come visit us." Her eyes widened. She snapped her fingers. "I'm going to need a bigger bed!"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Well, I'm just so much taller, now," Amy said, stretching her arms out. "The old one won't fit."

  "Right." Javier fiddled with the rearview camera's settings. "Don't tell me you actually miss having a bedtime."

  She laughed. "Nope."

  "Probably past it now, right?"

  She peered at the dash display. "Oh yeah. Way past it."

  Javier grinned. He handed her his baby, and motioned at the pile of vN food on the dash. "Can you feed him? And hide that vN food – it's worse than a bunch of empty beer cans, when it comes to cops."

  Amy looked in the back seat. "I wish we had a car seat…"

  "Just hide him under the blanket." Javier handed Junior over to her, then scattered the vN food at her feet. Amy reached down and grabbed some before buckling her seatbelt and wrapping Junior in the extra folds of blanket. She tried making a little tent for him in there like she'd seen nursing mothers use.

  "What if he chokes?" She broke off a square of food. It smelled vaguely like peanut butter.

  Javier shook his head. "I keep forgetting you don't have kids…" He gestured. "It'll melt. You'll see."

  Amy gently lowered the square into Junior's mouth. He watched her with his giant, calm eyes. She was reminded of a faithful dog, somehow. The food slowly liquefied; he sucked it down rather than chewing. "He did it!"

  "Told you. Bend down and smell his mouth. It should smell bitter in there. That's how you know they're ready to eat. It's a compound in the saliva. Helps them predigest the food."

  Amy sniffed. She recognized the smell instantly. Her mouth had tasted the same way, just before she'd eaten her grandmother. She shuddered, and tried changing the subject to something only slightly less bizarre. "That was really lucky back there. I can't believe that Rory herself wants to help, and is sending ex-dieters to look after me."

  "Yeah. That's like, meeting Santa or something."

  Amy frowned. "What do you mean? How is it like meeting Santa? Santa lives at the North Pole."

  Mild panic wrote itself across Javier's features. He swallowed. "Uh… You're right! It's not like meeting him at all! Because Santa's totally real, and–" He shot a quick glance in her direction. By now, she was having a hard time restraining her giggles. "And you're totally fucking with me right now, aren't you?"

  Amy laughed through her nose. Javier gave her the finger. She kept laughing. He kept driving. Every so often, he would look over at her and shake his head, and nudge the speed up. Soon Junior was asleep. Amy followed not long after, lulled by the squeak of wipers over the empty static Javier insisted on listening to.

  She is standing over them, gun in hand. They kneel, hooded and placid as tame falcons. One by one, she pulls the hoods off. They blink slowly before focusing on the thing in the centre of the room. Now the chains rattle as they try to scramble backward. It's hard, with their hands up above their heads. The thing moans. It has long since given up. "I want you to know," she says, lifting a tire iron, "that this hurts me worse than you."

  She brings down the iron. The chains sing, now. The thing is crumpling, bursting, its insides leaking and pooling. She's glad she positioned it over the drain in the floor. The women shriek. They plead. They beg. They try to hide and can't.

  "G-G-Granny…"

  Madness kindles in their eyes. Failures. All of them. She lifts the gun. The puke rounds smell a little dry, but still good.

  The air fills with the hiss of melting flesh–

  "Fuck!"

  Amy started awake. The car swerved wildly. Javier let the wheel slip through his hands and struggled to avoid a group of women who had positioned themselves in the middle of the dark and winding road. Headlights illuminated their stiff and unyielding bodies: Amy recognized her aunts.

  "You've got a real fucked-up family," Javier said. Baring his teeth, he floored the gas pedal and plowed directly into one of the aunts. She rolled calmly across the hood. Her lips kissed across the wet windshield.

  Inside Amy, something hardened. "More," she said. "Javier, run them all over–"

  Something landed on the roof. A white fist slammed down into the windshield from above. Amy shrieked. On her lap, Junior woke. He twisted against her. Amy covered his eyes. Now the glass splintered, impact fractures branching down toward the straining wipers.

  Javier ran another one down. This aunt clung on and waved this time before sliding off. Another slammed herself up against Amy's door; it popped open and her aunt's arm reached inside. Screaming, Amy held tight to Junior and reached for the door. She tried forcing her aunt's hand away. Her aunt merely laughed and briefly tangled their fingers, like they were girlfriends holding hands on the way to a carnival ride. Snarling, Amy slammed the door, and watched her aunt's look of surprise through the window when her arm ripped free of her body.

  Good work. Awareness shivered down her spine. She knew that voice. She recognized it, now. Inside her head there was something like old, dry laughter.

  "Pull over," Amy said, staring at the arm.

  "Are you crazy? They're–"

  "They're after me, not you." Amy looked down at Junior. He was silent, but clearly agitated, eyes peering everywhere and tiny fists clutched close to his little body. The more she watched him, the calmer she felt. It stole over her, heavy and cold and quick. "They won't stop chasing me. They want revenge. And you and your baby shouldn't be punished for something that I did." She tried to smile. "You were going to leave me behind anyway, right? When I contacted my parents?"

  Javier stopped the car. He set his teeth. In the glow of its headlights, Amy saw her aunts begin walking forward. They looked happy. Confident. Smug. "They won't just let me go," he said.

  "They walked right past you before, on the truck." She unbuckled her seatbelt and tried handing Javier his child; he blinked at the baby like she was offering him a bomb. He's a smart boy. Appeal to his logic. "You'll get a lot further with only one parasite, instead of two."

  Javier snorted. He shook his head. "Have it your way. Nice knowing you." He offered her his hand. Dutifully, Amy shook it; this time his hand was perfectly steady and not at all warm.

  "It was nice meeting you, too," she said. "You're the only vN friend I've ever had."

  Javier said nothing. He was staring at the fussing bundle of blanket and limbs in his lap, and ref
used to even look her way. Taking this as her cue to leave, Amy scooted out of the car and shut the door. It screeched away immediately. The aunt on its roof jumped clear and landed in the road.

  "That was sweet," she said, her voice a perversion of Amy's mother's.

  Relax, the voice within said. She's harmless.

  "I know who you are now, Granny," Amy whispered.

  Took you long enough. That boy is right. You're very slow.

  "Did you want them to get me, all along?"

  No. They want to kill you. I want you to live.

  Amy watched a crowd of copies steadily advancing on her. They wore her face – her mother's face, Granny's face, the model's face – but their walk was different, wary. They circled her uncertainly. They looked at each other as though wondering what to do next. Weak, Granny said. Scared. Slow. A distinct chill frosted over Amy's skin. It stiffened her jaw and hardened her fists. Her body ran, now, fists out and mouth open, barrelling straight for the nearest aunt. Her vision darkened. She heard screaming. Didn't know whose it was.

  Don't worry, darling. Granny's here.

  3

  Every Little Last Bone and Tooth

  You're roadkill; I should have let them eat you.

  Amy could almost feel her graphene layers dancing to the algorithms that would retrieve her ability to scream for food. Her repair modules worked to patch damages with resources her body didn't have. They shifted carbon, pushed silicon, redirected lithium, frantically covering the holes, the rips, the gashes. They hollowed her steadily from the inside, unravelling nanoscale threads of minerals from her hair and skin (what was left) and bone (what they could find). She heard feet, felt warmth–

  Bite! Now!

  She lurched, burning the last of her food-carbons on this gamble, her mouth snapping open and clamping down. Something rough and dry filled it before being crunched away. Her body sang, every molecule clambering for more, chorusing need. She was sucking something. It was rich, a wealth of carbon and sugar, wet and warm and a little pulpy where her tongue washed over it.

  Tasty, Granny said. But the amniotic sac would be better.

  Amy opened her eyes. All grayscale. Someone with dark hair knelt over her, clutching a smoking hand. The left thumb was gone. She willed her eyes to examine the wound, up the detail. Colour flashed briefly. Gray. Not red. Not human.

  "Do you know me?" he asked.

  Hungry, she wanted to say. More.

  He entered a vehicle and brought out a blanket, then laid her on it. Amy's memories showed her P-I-C-N-I-C.

  "Come on." He picked her up. What had damaged all those trees?

  "Gonna make a burrito out of you," he said, ferrying her over to the blanket. She examined her left hand. It had no skin left. Black spines poked out instead, like twigs. "No biting."

  No biting, Granny concurred.

  He laid her on the blanket with her other pieces. He rolled the blanket up and her appendages slid together; she felt her foot near her eyes. He carried the bundle away and put it somewhere – her memory showed her images of C-A-R-S – and they drove off. As the trees rolled by, she saw other bodies: skin and skeletons stretched across the branches and boughs, heads hanging by their hair.

  Those are your clademates, Granny said. Those are your aunts.

  He found a place called a "campsite" and opened the "trunk" so light could come in. Then he opened the blanket and knelt over her again. He pinched her wounded skin together and laughed about a long-ago woman who taught him to how fold dumplings. A Zen thing, he said, after a while. Fill. Wet. Pinch. Over and over and over. Plate after plate of food he would never eat. Then he hummed a song about bones. Her memory had it tagged with the word "kindergarten". The memory version was missing a verse: Now hear the Word of the Lord! He ripped open a packet of foil. "Feeding time."

  Her mouth opened automatically. He squirted something in there, held her down when her whole body lunged upward just to get more. He gave her more packets. Then his body moved and the sun peeked from around him; the space filled with light and her senses caught fire: her repair mods shrieked delight and got to work immediately. Warmth flooded her limbs. Colour bled into her vision. Words fell into place.

  "Javier."

  His shoulders slumped like he'd put down something heavy. "You're OK."

  "It was the sun," Amy said. "The sun sped everything up."

  Javier sat back on his knees. He gave her a measuring glance, top to bottom and back up. "What's it feel like?"

  She considered. "…Fizzy. Like my skin is made of bubbles. It burns, but it feels good at the same time."

  Javier beamed. "Like a flood of energy, right?"

  Amy nodded. "That's right." She winced. "Is this just another thing my mom never told me about?"

  Javier curled his lip under his top teeth. He shook his head. "No, Amy." He stretched his hand out into the sun. "Photosynthesis is something only my clade can do."

  She and the baby lay in the grass while Javier planned her first pregnancy.

  "First you should find a nice human," he said, pacing back and forth before a little fire of twigs he'd built. "Someone who'll take care of you. Lots of vN chicks do that. Your mom, for one. Anyway, you settle down, and then iterate like there's no tomorrow."

  Amy looked down at Junior. Already he seemed capable of focusing on her. His huge, dark eyes regarded her calmly. Amy wondered if maybe he saw Granny waiting, like a spider at the centre of her web, behind her eyes.

  All your children will be stained with me. And your children's children. I will live forever in their bones.

  "I'm not sure I want to iterate."

  "Why not?" Javier asked. He flopped down beside her, picked up a foil pouch of vN juice, and sucked it back. "You're tough. You can take it."

  Amy curled further into herself. The sun still felt good, and the grass, and the presence of life all around them, organic and synthetic both. They were in a place meant for families. She smelled smoke and heard laughter. High up in the trees sat a lost Frisbee the colour of cheap nail polish. Somewhere, someone was missing it. Maybe they were even thinking about it right now, like she was. If she concentrated on this possibility, she could almost forget the presence dwelling at the edges of her mind.

  "What if something's wrong with me?" Amy asked slowly. "What if I'm… messed up?"

  Javier sucked bubbles from the pouch. "Messed up how? You're perfect." He frowned. "Well, aside from being a whiner, and a bad driver, and–"

  "You're not helping." She rolled over onto her stomach. "I mean, shouldn't my repair mods have rejected your stemware? I just adopted photosynthesis like… like a virus, or something."

  "It is a virus. My pigment cells are programmed to simulate the activity of cyanophages in ocean algae. Maybe that includes turning hostiles to friendlies." Javier crumpled up the foil in his fist. "Who cares how it happened? The important thing is, you should iterate ASAP. Spread my seed around."

  See? He agrees with me.

  Amy scowled. "You don't even know I'll pass on your trait. This might just be a phase, or something."

  It's not. He's inside you, now. Just like me. Forever.

  "Does this mean I'm part of your clade, now?"

  Javier blinked suddenly, like he'd been thinking about something very far away. "Uh… I don't know." He rolled over onto his stomach. "Our skin was only a prototype when our clade started working in Costa Rica. That's why my uncles made sure my dad could leave; they wanted to preserve the trait. So you're the first female model that I know of who carries it. That probably makes you a whole new clade."

  Amy liked the sound of that. "Do you think I could start sampling other vN? Mixing them all up inside myself until I came up with something… awesome?"

  "More awesome than what you've got, now?" Javier asked. He pulled a blade of grass between his fingers and began peeling it into shreds.

  "Look, I know your trait is really special, but–"

  "I meant the total disaster you caused bac
k there," Javier said. "You annihilated your clademates. I've never seen anything like it. How did you do it?"

  Tell him. You're a born killer. A top predator. He's not safe with you.

  Amy pillowed her head on her arms. "I don't remember." She eyed him. "Why'd you come back for me?"

  Javier visibly suppressed his laughter. "For you?" He reached into his back pocket and took out two folds of bills – the ones the ranger had given them last night. "Come on. Give me some credit."

  "You rolled me for cash?"

  "I thought you'd be dead! You weren't gonna need it!"