Mechanical

by Pauline C. Harris

  Mechanical

  The Mechanical Trilogy

  Book One

  by Pauline C. Harris

  Published by

  Fire and Ice Young Adult Books

  an imprint of Melange Books, LLC

  White Bear Lake, MN 55110

  www.fireandiceya.com

  Mechanical, Copyright 2013 by Pauline C. Harris

  ISBN: 978-1-61235-628-0

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Cover Art by Caroline Andrus

  Mechanical

  Pauline C. Harris

  Drew is an android. From the very beginning of her existence, she has been programmed by her creators to understand her superiority and overwhelming responsibilities. She was created for a mission, a mission more important than anything she could ever have imagined.

  Drew is sent to a high school to observe the humans and report back to her creators. But when she begins to form friendships with these humans and starts feeling strange human emotions, she doubts the creators’ ways of dealing with her and wonders whether her mission is as wonderful as it once seemed.

  As Drew falls deeper and deeper into the mystery surrounding her mission and her creation, she’s suddenly left with a choice. Does she follow through with what she’s known all her life or does she act on what she now knows is right?

  For anyone who decides to pick this book up and give it a try. I wrote it for you.

  And,

  Mom, Dad and Cliff, for being my inspiration.

  Acknowledgements

  Can I just say how insanely excited I am that Mechanical is actually a book now? But, of course, I didn’t—and couldn’t—have done it alone. I have a lot of people to thank.

  First of all, you, for reading this book. I’m so grateful to anyone who’s picked up Mechanical and given it a go; you’re the reason I wrote it.

  Mom and Dad, for being my first fans; Mom always telling me I could do it, and Dad showing me how. Thank you, guys, for not giving up on me while I reached for a goal that was probably just a little bit crazy.

  My brother, Cliff, for putting up with my plot line and character questionnaires and dealing with my crazy writing moods. Thanks for helping me come up with character names and reading all my books, even though they all contained female protagonists. (Maybe I’ll write you a guy book one day.)

  Grandma and Grandpa, for always showing interest in my writing. When I was little, I always loved the idea that my Grandpa was an author and I couldn’t wait to publish a book just like him—thanks for always encouraging me.

  Miranda for being my first friend to read Mechanical and coming back and hounding me for the sequels. Girls like you are the reason I write.

  I also want to thank every single person who read Mechanical (or any of my books) and showed their support. Thanks for encouraging me, but also being honest. Anyone who has ever read even a chapter of this book has helped me tremendously and given me the confidence to keep writing.

  Thanks to all my lovely friends from SJA who taught me how to be crazy so I could write accurately about it. All my characters are wonderfully insane because of you.

  Thanks to Sarah, my ‘writing friend’, and Amie and Katelinn, whom I told about my stories and who encouraged me to keep going.

  Thanks to Teresa Pesce for providing helpful editing tips and encouraging me in my writing and publishing process.

  I also want to thank Nancy Schumacher and Denise Meinstad for giving Mechanical a chance, and Caroline Andrus for making the beautiful cover that I was ecstatic to see when I got the mock up—like I’ve said probably a billion times, I love it!

  And last but most definitely not least, I want to thank God for the profound blessings he’s bestowed on my life. There are no words to describe how grateful I am, and even if there were, they wouldn’t be enough.

  Table of Contents

  "Mechanical"

  Dedications

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Preview of "Perfect" - Book Two

  About the Author

  Previews

  Prologue

  I looked down at the body that was now mine. I wiggled my fingers and toes and realized, with some surprise, that I could feel them. I nearly jumped as a piece of hair fell in my face, brushing softly against my skin. I had forgotten what it was like to have hair or any other part of the body for that matter. Or was it that I had never really known at all? I couldn’t be sure.

  I had long slender arms, and when I stood up, I saw that I towered over most of the people in the room. As I tried to take a step, I faltered and saw numerous people come towards me to catch my fall.

  Seeing—this was also a new sensation for me. So much to take in all at once. The intricacy of how every little nerve had to be working just right for your eyes to adjust to the smallest speck of light.

  For so long, I hadn’t been anything at all. I didn’t remember much of the last few years, only nothingness, the sense of weightlessness and no feeling whatsoever. I wondered if that was what death was like; if I had experienced some form of it. For, when the weeks turned into years I had started to think I really was dead; that no one was coming back for me as promised.

  But all had ended up well for here I was, alive again, or so it seemed.

  The scientists crowded around me, talking all at once.

  “...your mission...”

  “...imperative that you...”

  “...never do this...”

  “...if you don’t...”

  I listened for a while, taking in what they needed me to know, but soon the talk of the mission subsided and new talk began. Or should I say old? I tuned them out when the subject came up, for I had already heard it too many times. I didn’t need to hear it again.

  I knew what I was. There was no need to remind me or sugarcoat it to make me feel better. They acted as though what I was would be a terrible disappointment to me, as though it would tear
me apart if they didn't approach me in just the right manner.

  I didn’t understand that. Was my existence something horrible? I didn’t think so; I had never known anything else. All I had ever known were these people and they were the strange ones, not I.

  I saw right through their fancy and elaborate ways to explain my existence. I understood what I was and accepted it.

  I wasn’t human, they'd told me. I was made up of parts; millions of parts put together to resemble human form. I wasn’t a real person. I wasn’t really alive. I was a robot, synthetic. I was a thing to be used when needed.

  I was mechanical.

  Chapter One

  “It’s so weird...” I said. “Being able to ... live again.”

  Yvonne shrugged, gazing across the large, white room. “You’ll get used to it.”

  The space around us was mostly empty. A table and a few chairs sat neatly in their spots, and the area was set up for activities like sports or games. There were drawers in the walls, white drawers with white knobs. Everything was in its place. Like Yvonne and I.

  I stared at my bare feet, swinging below the large metal table upon which I sat. Yvonne was taller, her feet planted firmly on the ground as she sat next to me. I didn’t remember her being taller, but then again, everything was hazy.

  The long black hair I remember her having had been cut to her chin. It was almost like she had just gone at it with scissors. The strands were short and jagged, but she still looked stunning, and although different, her eyes were the same, sparkling mischievously. Yvonne had always exuded that effortless beauty.

  “Yvonne ...” I started, turning to watch her expression. “Do you have ... memories? Of us ... as little kids?”

  Her face instantly clouded over, her expression melting into a frown. “It doesn’t matter,” she retorted. “We’re machines, we can’t have childhoods.” She looked away with an air of annoyance.

  The memories of Yvonne, suddenly so clear in my mind, urged me to go on. “But ...”

  “The creators probably just inserted recollections into our minds to help us understand humans,” she said quickly, still looking away from me.

  I studied the back of her head as she busied herself with inspecting the white tabletop. I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but knowing Yvonne, it was likely.

  A door opened and someone entered, his footsteps echoing loudly through the empty room. We both turned his way. Immediately, recognition registered in my mind, one of us.

  He was tall, had a blank expression and pale skin like the rest of us. I guessed he had just come back, like I had only a few days before, for he was looking around the room in awe and seeming to find every detail amazing. But it wasn’t so much his appearance that set him apart from humans. After all, we were supposed to blend in. It was the way he acted and how he was dressed, the situation and circumstances.

  “Newcomers,” Yvonne whispered to me in a mocking tone. “Always so vacant looking.”

  I turned to her. “Hey, I was like that only a few days ago. It’s been years since the last time I was up and around,” I said, defending both him and myself.

  She rolled her eyes, looking annoyed. “No. Not like you. Completely new.” Irritation edged her voice.

  I looked at her with suspicion and surprise. “You mean, never alive before?”

  She nodded, her gaze never leaving the other android, watching him with a cold, penetrating stare.

  Our gazes followed him until he’d exited through the other door at the end of the room, leaving us alone once again. We sat in stillness for several moments, the echo of the banging door slowly diminishing.

  “How long had you been shut off?” I asked Yvonne, shattering the icy silence.

  “Much shorter than you,” she replied matter-of-factly. “They liked me and how I worked.” Her tone wasn’t boastful, but it wasn’t modest either. Just a fact. A simple statement.

  “Oh...” I murmured. “I thought that maybe I had died. I so badly wanted to come back, but now everything is so strange, I don’t know which state I prefer,” I admitted. What was I supposed to feel? I wish I knew.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, this time it’s much more interesting.” Her eyes sparkled and I wondered what she meant.

  “So, why did they bring me back?” I asked.

  “To accomplish the same mission as me. All they’re saying is to observe life.” Yvonne shrugged. “They’re sending us to different high schools to study the kids there.” She explained as if it were nothing worth discussing.

  “Oh ...” I couldn’t understand why this was so important. The creators had stressed how critical this mission was, but I didn’t see how it could be. It seemed insignificant to me, but I had to do what the creators asked. No one doubted them.

  More people entered the room, talking softly together, more of us. They all wore white, like Yvonne and I. It made us look almost ghost-like against our pale skin and the ever-present white walls of the Institution.

  Yvonne gracefully hopped off the table. “Hey Jeremy,” she called, walking towards them. “You guys wanna play?” She gestured to a volleyball lying in the corner. I frowned, noticing the only thing in the room that had not been put away. My brows furrowed. That bugged me.

  They nodded and soon they were all involved in a game. I watched from the sidelines, unsure of whether I could manage such rigorous activity so quickly after I had come back.

  They sprinted all over the court returning the ball back and forth. Rarely did anyone make any points, they were so evenly matched. I saw Yvonne’s jaw set when she realized she wasn’t going to win as easily as she had first thought. Her dark eyes concentrated on the ball like a predator would hungrily watch its prey. I could almost hear the words playing repeatedly in her head, I will win, I will win.

  Someone anticipated her move and when she spiked the ball, he blocked it, shoving it back over the net, catching Yvonne off guard and scoring a point for their team. They were in the lead.

  Yvonne watched the ball bounce away as another teammate went to get it. Her black eyes turned sharply towards the person who had spiked the ball, glaring. Yvonne hated losing.

  I heard voices behind me and turned to see that two men had been watching us the whole time.

  “Better than professional athletes,” one of them said, staring at us in disbelief, eyes wide with excitement. “They’re great.”

  The other one merely smiled, his satisfied expression indicating he wasn’t surprised in the least, as though we were works of art. “They’re perfect.”

  Chapter Two

  I gazed up at the ceiling, trying to find shapes in the crumpled drywall.

  I tangled my fingers in the snow-white bed sheets that matched everything else in the room, including my white apparel. In fact, the only thing of color in the whole room was my long auburn hair that spread out across the pillow, to me, and even that seemed washed out and dull.

  The room was empty. The other bed, occasionally occupied by Yvonne, was neatly made. There was a dresser across the room from my bed and through a door next to it was a bathroom, white, of course.

  I finally gave up searching the ceiling for the images I had conjured up at least a thousand times. It seemed like one of the things I did the most. Instead, I turned my thoughts to the mission.

  My first obstacle was that I had never actually associated with real people outside of the Institution. But then, how hard could it be? After all, I was perfect, wasn’t I? Incapable of making mistakes.

  The creators had supplied me with clothes to wear to school. They were much more colorful than anything I had seen before. Bright blues, and reds and yellows. Until now, we’d always worn neutral colors, like white, black and gray. The creators had told us it was less expensive to buy clothes without pigment.

  I sat up in bed and let my legs fall over the side. I stared at my bare feet, then my ankles and all the way up to my knees where my shapeless and strictly practical dress ended. I wasn�
�t sure if I would ever get over the sensation of being alive again. After all those years of nothing, it felt so strange.

  I got up, walked across the room to the dresser and pulled out one of the sweaters that had been given to me to wear to school. I held it up and the bright red garment seemed to shine in the blankness of the room. I unzipped it and slipped it on, turning to face the mirror on the door.

  I had never seen any other color on me besides white and gray. The red seemed to make me look more ... alive. Maybe that was why the creators had told me to wear it.

  Don’t let them find out what you are, they had said to me.

  I shrugged, taking off the sweater and putting it in the drawer.

  I went back to searching for shapes on the ceiling.

  * * * *

  I stared after Yvonne’s retreating figure as she walked away from the van and was eventually engulfed into the crowd of teenagers. She stood out from them with her tall posture and perfect figure. She was stunning, her beauty causing heads to turn as she confidently made her way up the steps to the front door of the West Side Public High School.

  Our car pulled away and we drove for about ten minutes until we reached another building, my mind rehearsing everything the creators had taught me.

  “Here you go,” said the driver as he guided the car into the parking lot.

  I looked out the window and took in the sight of hundreds of kids milling around the school. I looked up at the sign above the doorway: Tanager Heights Academy.

  “I don’t have all day,” the driver said impatiently, so I grabbed my book bag and left the van.

  Immediately I was enveloped by students crowding their way to the front doors. I let myself be pushed along with them until I found myself inside. I resisted the urge to shove them back and away from me, knowing it would seem odd, but their constant close contact was getting on my nerves. I made my way to the front office and breathed a sigh of relief to find this room much less crowded than the hallways. I didn’t like being touched at all, which was hard to avoid in a swarming crowd of people.