by Lee Winter
“What do you mean?” Lena looked at her curiously. “Why don’t you take vacations?”
“Have you ever actually read the Pact? Or considered what it really means to be a guardian?”
Lena had, in fact, read the Pact. It was part of her induction on the first day on the job. “Sure, I’ve read it.”
“Did you see the bit about how we’re slaves to commons for life?”
“Slaves to…? What the hell? That’s not in there.” Lena sat up indignantly.
“Isn’t it? Hmm. Would you like to work for three hundred and sixty-five days a year, always on call, and have no say in it? What if you were required to be on your best behavior in case you brought shame on your colleagues?” Nyah tossed her book away from her. “How would you like to be seen only as an exotic oddity? We can never let down our guards. We can never relax and just be ourselves. We’re always watched, videoed, tracked, and analyzed, and what one of us does, we are all judged for. We have all the responsibilities and none of the rights of commons. Our lives have never been our own.”
Lena picked through the outburst, not sure she agreed with much of it. Guardians had rights, what was she on about? She frowned. Nyah’s eyes narrowed as she studied Lena’s face.
“You doubt me? Why would I lie?” Her lips twisted in distaste.
Lena combed some stray hairs behind her ears with her fingers, trying to work out what to say. Of course she doubted her. Because guardians were entitled, and didn’t know what a hard life really was. Bitching because they’re watched and adored? All famous people go through that, guardian and common alike. Why should Earth’s superheroes expect anything less? Lena didn’t say it, though. That whole “saving her life” business had earned Nyah some space to run her mouth off without Lena’s sarcastic retorts. For today. Well, an hour at least. So she bit her lip.
Nyah’s expression darkened as she realized Lena’s continued silence was not, in fact, agreement.
“Do you know that if we run or...what is that revolting term you trackers use? Splat?” Nyah said, her voice rising in irritation. “If we dare to die in a public place while saving commons, we are made invisible, while your tracker friends become complicit in pretending to the world it never happened. All to keep the myth of our invincibility and our perfection. But it’s worse if one of us has a mental breakdown. Do you know what they do to us if we crack under the pressure?”
Oh shit. That. Lena broke eye contact. On that topic, Nyah had a valid point.
“Ah, I see you do. But that wasn’t your question, was it? You want to know why don’t we get vacations? Simple. It’s because even if we try to have one, wherever we go in the world, whenever something happens nearby, we’re expected to drop everything and help. That’s a clause in the Pact, by the way—render assistance at all times. And the problem is your planet always has problems. So if we help, we never get a break. If we don’t help, people die. We have to live with the guilt of doing nothing. So, inevitably, we always help and then burn ourselves out. Haven’t you noticed the rate of guardian breakdowns lately? Or is that something else you choose not to think about?”
Lena had, in fact, noticed the spike. All the trackers had—these days there was plenty of overtime to be had for a tracker who wanted extra cash. But she was startled to realize she never thought much about why it was happening now. She blinked at Nyah in surprise. Was she saying that the guardians were all just severely burnt out? Even the mad ones like Beast Lord? All because they’d never had a decent few days off in a hundred years?
Her frown deepened. Talon Man had to be a complete fool not to know that running his workers into the ground would blow up in his face. Was this a joke? Because this smelt like some grade-A bullshit.
“Why aren’t the guardians demanding changes to protect themselves then?” Lena challenged. “Hell, if you did it in the media and made a big fuss, they’d probably agree to change the Pact to give you all mandatory time off or something.”
“And be forced to admit we’re less than perfect?” Nyah gave a bark of laughter. “Tal would love that.”
“Well, why don’t you do it in-house? No commons have to know you’re on vacation.”
“We’d know,” Nyah said sharply. “Don’t you understand by now what it is to wear this uniform?” She tugged at her outfit in aggravation. “We’re your protectors, and we are always on duty. We can’t see something and walk away.”
“So that’s why you’re hiding out here?” Lena asked. “You decided to get far away, in a place where not much happens, so no one knows you, and they won’t ask for help even if it does?”
“That’s one reason, I suppose. I also need to not be around commons anymore. I’ve done my time. I have come to the conclusion your people are not worth my effort. In short, I’m done.”
Lena wanted to roll her eyes. This again? “Come on, are we really so bad? Is our adulation really that traumatic?”
Nyah studied her coolly. “Be careful of questions you can’t handle the answers to.”
“I can handle it,” Lena said. She meant it. Seriously, how much worse could a guardian’s life be compared to what she’d gone through? Nothing she’d heard had made her think they understood real pain, beyond what sounded like the struggle of working too hard and facing constant fame.
“How interesting,” Nyah said sarcastically, “a liar in search of the truth.”
Lena exhaled sharply, willing her tongue to stay silent. She was done being goaded so easily.
“So quiet now,” Nyah noted, and her tone became sly. “Don’t hold back on my account. Your railings in defense of your little planet are always entertaining.”
Lena cocked an eyebrow. “You know this is ridiculous, right? You, out here, hiding away at the end of the world from every person on the planet? That is completely insane.”
“Why? It’s my choice.”
“You’re so much better than this. Look, I get the need for a vacation. You all sound overworked and badly needing a break, and that is shitty as hell, I agree. But retiring? You don’t get to withdraw your unique skills. It’s a waste. A terrible, stupid waste of a rare talent. And we both know it.”
Nyah suddenly was on her feet and stalked over to where Lena sat. Her imposing height was as acute as a threat. “The point is,” Nyah said coldly, “you and the human race shouldn’t get to tell me how I live my life. That’s the biggest waste—me, living a life dictated by others just because I can do a shattering party trick. You think it’s insane I’m out here? Insanity is thinking that being Shattergirl was ever any kind of life.”
“But you’re so good at it!”
“Yes, I am. So?”
Lena stopped, uncertain.
Nyah dropped to a crouch and met her eye with a flinty gaze. “It’s not like I’m the only one of my kind. Others will fill the gap I left.”
“But it’s…a shame,” Lena said lamely.
“For you, maybe. I’m fine with it.” She rose and returned to her bed, snatched up her book, and resumed reading.
Lena stared after her, confusion washing through her. She’d always been so sure about what was right regarding guardians. They were given a safe harbor in exchange for putting their talents to good use protecting humankind. All their material needs were met. They were adored. Who wouldn’t want that?
But…what if…what if some of them despised it? It was a confronting thing to get her brain around. She tried to imagine any life that was not of her own choosing. It felt stifling.
“Okay,” Lena muttered in a reluctant concession.
“What? Was that acceptance?” Nyah asked, not looking up. “Is it a sign the apocalypse is nigh?”
“Funny.” Lena shivered and shifted a little closer to the fire. “No. I just get it a little better.”
Nyah’s book snapped shut again and she peered at Lena over it. “How long have you been a tracker?” she suddenly asked.
“Five years.”
“Are you any good at it?”
<
br /> “The best.” Lena didn’t bother to hide the pride in her voice. It was the only good thing in her life.
“I see. So you excel at hunting, lying, and twisting guardian psyches?” There was a speculative look on her face rather than scorn.
Lena eyed her, bemused. “That was just work.”
“Your work was my life,” Nyah said sharply.
“I know. I just hadn’t fully thought about it from the guardian perspective. And come on, it’s not like you make your perspective known to the commons, is it?”
“I’m well aware. We’re all so perfect and idolized. Teenagers collect our trading cards. Tell me, did you do that? Have my trading card?”
Lena scowled. “You love the idea I might have worshipped you as a kid, don’t you?”
Nyah eyed her with amusement. “I like confirming a theory. Which one was it? Action Shattergirl? Or the Platinum Issue Exclusive Shattergirl. A hologram. I shimmered when you turned the card.”
Lena narrowed her eyes. No, she hadn’t been able to afford the platinum card. But she had owned the action one. It had been a highly treasured possession. She still had it somewhere in her stuff. “Why do you want to know? We were all kids doing stupid stuff once. Then we grow up and get a clue.”
“So you got a clue about me,” Nyah suggested. “Do tell, what did I do wrong?”
“Where to start,” Lena said with a snort, deflecting the question.
Nyah didn’t seem offended, merely curious. “And are you so perfect?”
“Far from it.” Lena fiddled with her cuff. “We’re all fucked up underneath, aren’t we?”
“Essentially. So tell me, what has your life been like so far?”
“Why?” Lena was suspicious now. “Why are you asking me all this?”
“I’m tired of thinking about what it is to be a guardian. You say you understand me a little better? Now I want to better understand you.”
“But why?” Lena repeated. “You know trackers aren’t interesting. Hell, we don’t even officially exist. Did you know they even advertise tracker jobs as something else and only admit once we’ve got the job what we’re really doing, after we’ve signed non-disclosure contracts.” She shook her head. “Kinda funny when you think about it. You’re in the most visible job on the planet; I’m in the most invisible one.”
“I said I wanted to understand you. Not your job. I am well aware of how trackers ply their trade. We will be stuck here for a while, so we may as well find a way to pass the time. So…Lena Martin…what has your life been like so far?”
Lena debated what to tell her. She could lie of course, but Nyah seemed to have an inbuilt bullshit detector. She wondered what it would be like having an actual conversation with someone about her life. The thought was just too…ugh. A world of no.
Lena was met with an even stare. She supposed sharing a few of the basics wouldn’t kill her at least. Who was Nyah going to tell, anyway?
“Dad died before I was born,” she said, finally. That was safe enough. She had no feelings on that topic one way or another. “Obviously I don’t remember him.”
“And your mother?”
Cold water shot through her veins. Not safe. Not safe at all. Lena steeled herself. “She’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She was sick a lot of the time, so it’s probably better for her.” Lena’s stomach lurched and she rushed in. “I didn’t want her to die, though. I don’t mean that.”
“I knew what you meant.”
“Okay.” Her palms were slick so she wiped them down her thighs. She knew Nyah saw the nervous habit, and her heart rate picked up again.
“What was wrong with her?” Nyah asked, not unkindly.
“The doctors never knew.” Lena shook her head. “They were morons.”
“Why do you say that?”
Lena scowled. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”
The silence was as long as Lena had expected.
Finally Nyah spoke, the familiar annoyed edge back again. “I don’t talk about that. You know that.”
Lena said nothing.
“You could have just said the same, that you don’t talk about that topic.” Reproach laced Nyah’s voice.
Lena rolled onto her back and said grimly, “Yeah. But now you know exactly how it feels to be asked.”
“All right.”
The fire was warm and the conversation dried up. Lena relaxed once she realized that was the end of the grilling. She closed her eyes. Just for a moment.
Lena awoke groggily, shocked to find she’d fallen asleep. Aromas nearby made her hum appreciatively. Nyah was at the fire, stirring something in a pot. Something sublime. Her stomach rumbled. That breakfast granola bar had been hours ago.
“Time is it?” she asked, her tongue thick and dry, as she sat up.
“Welcome back. It’s almost six.”
“PM?” Lena started. She took stock of the glorious smells. “What are you cooking?”
“Dinner.”
“God, you’re hard work,” Lena said tiredly, struggling to sit up. “What exactly is dinner?”
“It’s a sort of risotto concoction I fell in love with in Italy. I’ve compromised for local conditions and limited cooking utensils, but the flavor’s essentially the same.”
“Italy?” Lena asked curiously. “I thought you protected the Americas?”
“Yes, that didn’t mean I didn’t see other parts of the world. It was after the earthquake in Milan six years ago. The guardians asked for all spare hands. I volunteered. It’s my specialty after all.”
“Rock shifting. Yeah.” Lena’s mouth was watering as more smells wafted under her nose. “Although I’m guessing cooking might be another specialty.”
Nyah’s eyes sparkled. “Perhaps. My father loved to cook. He passed his knowledge on to me. Of course, we didn’t use the ingredients you have on this world. I adapted.”
“Was it hard? Adapting?”
“Obviously.” Nyah dipped a spoon into the liquid and tasted. She added some seasoning and resumed stirring. “I can’t imagine anyone adapting easily to losing their world, all their loved ones, and moving to another, then begging for resettlement as stateless refugees. Can you?”
“Talon Man did.”
“Yes. That’s his nature. He seized an opportunity when he saw it.”
“Why’s he still in power? I know his orders about what happens to the guardians who have breakdowns. And I know the overdues that are brought back get put on short leashes, monitored for the rest of their lives. Why the hell do you all put up with it? The guardians should overthrow his bullying orange ass.”
Nyah’s lips thinned. “As long as he’s so popular among the commons, no guardian will challenge him. And before you ask, no, I never want to be in charge of an organization dedicated to governing the thing I despise most—being a guardian.”
“But what if the public learned the truth? About guardians and Talon Man?”
“It won’t. You signed a non-disclosure agreement, didn’t you? Every common at the Facility has.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s iron-clad,” Nyah said. “A young nurse who worked with the guardians who’d had breakdowns challenged her NDA about forty years ago. She failed in her court case—which was heavily suppressed. Her destroyed reputation and being bankrupted was a consequence that Tal greatly enjoyed. All Facility medical employees got the message loud and clear. There have been no further challenges. Now everyone accepts that it is what it is.”
“Even you?”
“I did raise these issues many decades ago with the other founders. They didn’t want to challenge the status quo in case it backfired and the masses got angry. They didn’t want to risk losing all their rights and what little freedoms they have just to unseat Earth’s most popular guardian. It’s futile to argue with them. I tried, but they were too afraid. So that’s the end of it.”
Lena watched Nyah stirring vigorously, her mouth in a gri
m line. The injustice of the situation screamed for a resolution. The way things were wasn’t right. She thought hard.
“Can you stop thinking so loudly,” Nyah complained as she tapped the spoon on the side of the pot. “I can virtually hear your brain grinding its cogs from here.”
Lena’s head snapped up as Nyah rubbed her temple, looking thoroughly disagreeable. And there it was again. That expression. So familiar. Lena stared, recognizing the look for what it might be. Surprise, elation, fear, and distaste mingled as she considered the ramifications. Had her fleeting first suspicion been right? With a thudding heart, she wondered how to broach the awkward subject.
“My mother,” Lena eventually said, almost choking out the words, “suffered from terrible migraines.”
A startled look flitted across Nyah’s face at the introduction of a topic Lena had comprehensively shut down as off limits bare hours ago.
“I commiserate.”
“It’s why I thought the doctors treating her were idiots. She had these crippling headaches, ‘worse than childbirth’ she would tell them, but they kept trying to find environmental factors. Well, when they weren’t doping her up with drugs.”
“You don’t think it was environmental?”
“It had to be genetic.”
“Oh. Did her parents have this medical condition, too?”
Lena shook her head.
Nyah paused in her stirring. “So what makes you so sure?”
“We moved a few times. We’ve lived country, city, everywhere in between. She had it her whole life. It wasn’t environmental. My earliest memory was her clutching her head and crying in pain.”
Sympathy laced the Nyah’s features. “What set it off?”
“People. Their thoughts.”
The guardian abruptly stopped what she was doing, and that was the moment Lena knew she’d been right.
Dark brown eyes bored into Lena’s. “What?” It came out like a shocked hiss.
“People. Being too near them,” Lena said quietly. “She could…we never told people, they wouldn’t believe us, but she heard people’s thoughts. They hammered away at her, some days worse than others. Crowds were the worst.”