vN

by Madeline Ashby

  It wasn't any sense of pride that kept her bussing tables, or folding napkins, or realigning the cakes in the dessert case to their best effect. It was Portia. Amy deliberately ate less to keep herself tired, so that even if Portia punched through, she couldn't get very far. She even started playing a game with the cooks just as her shift ended, where she dipped her hand in beer batter and then again in the deep fryer. When she tugged just right, a glove of perfectly airy crisp breading came off, and her repair mods were busy for hours.

  You're fighting a forest fire with a squirt gun, was Portia's only comment.

  Amy continued trying to find new ways of blocking Portia out. When she entered the pod each night, she toggled some of Shari's old earbuds to match her downloads on Rick's reader, and she would take Junior out of his bin and they would listen to the news together. They listened for arrests of vN who might be Javier, and for advice on what to do for bluescreen babies. Well, she listened. She couldn't vouch for Junior. But if he was still in there, he was at least well-informed about the world. She speculated with him on the disappearance of the container ships and the sudden rise in network outages ("Maybe it's a sea monster," she told him, and paused for laughter that never came). And at the start of her shifts, she nestled the buds in his ears, left the reader on the charger, and told it to seek out Spanish-language content.

  "It's only until payday," she said as she secured the lid that hid him from view. "Then we can leave, and I'll get you some help."

  "My daughter's turning two today," the man said, gesturing at the smaller vN. He had a wide, baby-like face dusted with blond hair, and wore sandals with a Hawaiian shirt. He sat with two little vN girls to his table. One looked about ten, the other seven. They were both the same Asian model and wore their hair in cute little pixie cuts that framed their faces perfectly. "We ordered an Opera House, but it seems to be taking a while."

  "Let me check into it," Amy said, and returned a moment later with the last slice of opera cake and a crowd of her fellow servers, all of whom sang the Electric Sheep's birthday song:

  This cake is for you

  This cake is for you

  This cake is no lie

  And it's just for you.

  Everyone applauded, and the youngest vN clapped her hands over her candle to extinguish it. Her father reached over and tousled her hair and pinched her nose. He watched her take her first bite of the cake. When she smiled approvingly, he smiled back, then nodded to Amy. "Could you watch them for a couple of minutes? I have to visit the little boys' room."

  Amy checked her podium. No one was waiting. "Sure. I'd be happy to."

  The father looked at the girls. "Yui, don't let Rei eat it too fast, OK? I want her to take her time and enjoy it."

  The older vN sister nodded dutifully. "All right."

  Amy stepped aside to let him pass, then slid into his spot on the banquette. So far during her time at the Sheep, these were the first vN children she had met – the first belonging to customers, at any rate. It was edifying to know that other parents chose to grow their vN slowly, too. It meant her mom and dad's decision wasn't so weird.

  "Are you having a nice birthday so far?" Amy asked.

  Rei looked at Yui. Yui nodded. "Yes, I am, thank you," Rei said.

  "What have you done so far to celebrate?"

  Again, Rei looked at Yui. They shared a long look, then Rei said: "I played dress-up, and we made a movie, and then Daddy gave me a bubble bath, and then we came here."

  "Who did you dress up as?"

  Rei frowned. "I didn't dress up as anybody," she said. "I just wore different clothes."

  Amy nodded. "Well, what was your movie about? Can I look it up online?"

  Rei smiled. "Yes! Just–" She stopped, looked at Yui, scowled, and resumed eating her cake. "Mom says you wouldn't like it," she muttered.

  Amy looked between the two girls. "Did you say something?"

  Yui promptly pulled the plate of cake away. She looked up at Amy. "We come from a networked model."

  Like Rory, Portia whispered. I bet they're on that special diet just like you were.

  "We're trying to teach her not to use our cladenet to keep secrets, but it's very difficult. She's only two."

  "And growing like a weed."

  From behind her, the father laid a hand on Amy's shoulder and squeezed. She glanced up, and he was looking down at her and smiling in friendly, almost childish way. He looked very innocent for a grown man, all round edges and bright colours and white teeth. He blushed innocently, too, the pink seemingly spreading from the hibiscus on his shirt to his skin and upward into his fine, thinning hair.

  "I'm Q.B., by the way," he said. "Those are my initials. I'm a regular here, and so are my girls."

  "That's nice." Amy tried to leave the banquette, but he squeezed her shoulder again and pressed down gently. "I should be going," she said.

  "You sure?" Q.B. asked. "Because we'd love to have you."

  Amy shook her head. "I'm still on shift."

  He nodded at the podium. "I don't see anyone waiting." He withdrew a small golden pendant from beneath his florid collar. It was a tiny golden apple with a single bite taken out of it. The jeweler had filled that space with a set of delicate clockwork gears, as though the bite had revealed a mechanism hidden within.

  "Are we ministering, now?" Yui asked.

  "Yes, Yui, we are." Q.B. beamed. "I'm a New Eden parishioner from way back. They were really there for me when I lost my job up at the reboot camp."

  Amy sat up straighter. "Reboot camp?"

  "Yeah. I worked with the bluescreens – got their feeding tubes in, watched the incubators, stuff like that. I never got to handle the raw materials, though. They're proprietary. I was more like a nurse. Like you." His smile did not fade.

  Amy smiled back. This was a real, personal connection to Redmond, and he was a regular at the Sheep. If they got to be friendly, she could ask him how best to help Junior, and where on the campus her mom might be held.

  "I'm not sure how New Eden prayers go," Amy said.

  Q.B. responded by grabbing her left hand and holding it tightly in his. It was warm and sort of puffy; Amy couldn't immediately recall the last human hand she'd touched and this one felt too soft and bloated for her liking. He raised both their hands slightly, then closed his eyes and looked downward. Rei and Yui both did the same.

  There are twenty-seven bones in the human hand, but you only have to break one to end this charade.

  "Lord," Q.B. began. Amy watched as a couple at the bar took a look at the four of them. They raised their eyebrows and pursed their lips sympathetically, before turning back to their Dirty Red Spectacles and sipping them.

  "Lord, please guide this young woman away from the evil we have seen her model doing in this world. Please uplift her, God, into the highest realms of intelligence and consciousness, so she may better serve Your children."

  "Amen," Yui and Rei whispered.

  "Lord, Your plan is intricate and Your inspiration divine. Your final creations are emergent proof of Your love for us. Please give this young woman the opportunity to live that truth for others. In Jesus' name."

  "Amen."

  "Amen," Q.B. agreed, and released Amy's hand. As she folded it in her lap, he smiled at her. "Thank you for sharing that with me." He took both girls' hands in his. "If you knew the kind of man I was before I found New Eden, you would failsafe."

  Don't be so sure, preacher man.

  "It's part of why I lost my job."

  Rei squeezed his big, pink hand. "It's OK, Daddy. You don't need that bluescreen job any more. You have us."

  Yui leaned on his shoulder. "She's right, Q.B. You're better off, now."

  "I know. You two make it easier for me, every single day. I'm so blessed." Q.B. cleared his throat and blinked wet eyes at Amy. "I'm a pedophile; vN are my only outlet for the urges God chose to test me with. Otherwise, I might be tempted to hurt real children."

  "I've lived with them, Charlot
te. So you don't have to. I'm your mother, and I already know everything there is to know about them. They're vermin. And they have no desire to be anything more. They want to eat all the sugar and spend all the money and do none of the work. They avoid responsibility like roaches scattering in the light. I have seen it time and again, and for that reason I cannot allow you to go above ground. They don't deserve you, Charlotte. They don't deserve any of us."

  On the Wednesday morning of Amy's second week at work, Mack the manager knocked on the door of the storage pod. Shari wanted to see her. Amy stashed Junior, pulled up her boots and tucked in her shirt, and smoothed back her hair as she exited the pod. She'd been experimenting with braids, lately. It wasn't going well.

  Outside, it was mid-morning. The sun's light worked hard to crack the cloudy glaze on the sky. The air was warm, and felt somehow mossier than usual. Amy's jeans felt damp despite her having neatly folded them and stacked them upon dry storage tubs in the pod. This deep in the woods, the mist only disappeared grudgingly, transforming with a harassed flounce into dew and evaporating to its native form as soon as possible, like a human child forced into church clothes.

  The truck parked alongside the restaurant read: ISAAC'S ELECTRONICS.

  Before she could even bolt, before she could even decide to, Mack's hand found her elbow. He used his full strength. It didn't hurt, but she wondered about her skin splitting.

  Portia said: Run.

  Mack said: "Walk."

  She walked.

  "Well, I don't know any other way to explain it, Shari, but she has to come with us. Now I know you've made some money, and I think that's great. But you don't get to play by a different set of rules just because your tip jar is full."

  Shari and a uniformed guard were sitting at the bar. Amy recognized the uniform from her ride on the truck. It was a much brighter blue than she remembered; in daylight it looked cheerful and harmless. Shari clearly wanted to impress the officer: she had out fresh Flexo Fries and Emperor's Nightingale chicken wings with extra sauce and had made him some coffee with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top.

  "I'm telling you she's not the one, Harold. It is still just the one, right? Just the one bad seed?"

  Harold mumbled something about not really knowing the answer to that. "We don't know what caused the failsafe to break," he said. "So they have to be researched, until we do."

  Harold looked apologetic. That sadness made him seem even more delicate and human than his slender, aging frame indicated. His ginger hair was in the process of turning white, and it showed most prominently in his moustache, now flecked with foam and chocolate. Pale freckles stood up under the nearly translucent hair on his hands. And though he worked to hide it, Harold was afraid of her. Amy took an experimental step forward and watched him lean incrementally back toward the bar. The movement was so small that he probably didn't even notice himself making it. Growing up she had seen humans, especially older ones, who obviously felt uncomfortable around her and her mother. But this was different. This was worse. Unlike those other humans, Harold had a good reason for feeling the way he did.

  It could all end right now, Amy realized. Junior's bluescreen. Her mother's imprisonment. If she gave herself up now, she could help them both. This sorry old man would take her to Redmond and he would give Junior to the specialists and give her to her mother. It was just that easy.

  If you get yourself put on that truck, I will turn this place into a slaughterhouse.

  "I think it would be safer for everybody if I just went along, don't you?" Amy tried smiling. "It's like you said. Nobody knows what went wrong. That means it could happen to any of us, at any time."

  Harold smiled. He pointed at her and looked over his shoulder at Shari. "See? She gets it."

  "Yeah, because that's her failsafe talking. Which means she's functional, which means she should stay here." Shari poured herself a shot and set the bottle down so hard its contents splashed up the sides. "Think about it. If she were the bad seed, wouldn't she have run the moment she saw your truck?"

  "You think I haven't thought of that?" Harold picked up a chicken wing, examined it, and let it drop. "They're all turning themselves in, Shari. Every last one. You open up the truck and they just march right in."

  Harold escorted Amy to the parking lot. She had made an excuse about returning her uniform to Shari, but really she just wanted to retrieve Junior. Shari trailed a few steps behind, fussing loudly with her cigarettes and muttering something about Nazis and product recalls. Amy tried to walk normally. Portia made it difficult.

  Stop right there, you stupid suicidal little bitch.

  Her hands became claws. Amy forced them to her sides. Her left foot began to drag. She picked that knee up higher.

  "Are you OK, there?"

  I'm ashamed to be your flesh and blood.

  "I'm fine."

  She was about to seize up entirely. Her steps shuddered. Her arms felt like iron. She rested her head against the pod. It was easier than trying the knob.

  "I know this is hard," Harold said.

  "Shut up, you fucking Gestapo prick," Shari said.

  "God damn it, Shari, I have had it up to here with your bleeding heart bullshit."

  Animals. You're letting animals put you in a cage.

  The door squealed a little and Amy stumbled in. She dragged herself through on trembling knees and shut the door with shaking hands. It was mercifully dim and cool inside the storage pod. Amy caught herself staring almost fondly at the accumulated wreckage of Shari's life. This would be the last time she ever saw it. It would probably be the last time she saw clutter of any sort. She had the feeling that Redmond would be very clean and spare. Like a prison.

  She lurched forward to the bin marked "MANUALS" and prised off the lid. It came away with a sucking sound. Portia opened her mouth and Amy closed it so tight she bit her tongue. This caused her no pain, but she whimpered anyway.

  Junior was gone.

  7

  Tuo Spirito Familiare

  Damn. I was looking forward to eating the rest of him.

  Amy tore the lids off more bins. She pawed though plastic-coated vintage editions of Playboy and Hustler. Who would take Junior? Why? She had hidden him so well. Maybe someone had tracked her through Rick's reader. Maybe it was Rick and Melissa themselves. Maybe they came here for revenge. Maybe they sold Junior to some freak like Q.B. Maybe–

  A familiar voice said, "Let me guess. You put him in with the manuals because no one would ever look there, right?"

  Slowly, Amy looked over one shoulder. Atop the stacked bins, wedged against the ceiling of the pod, lay Javier and Junior. As she watched, Javier carefully slid free from the sliver of space and stood upright. He had new clothes. The jeans had no loose threads at the cuffs. The shoes had no creases between the toes and ankles. He even wore a nice shirt, and only a single pine needle poked free from his curls.

  "You should–"

  "We have to–"

  They quieted, and in the lull a knock sounded at the door.

  "Miss?" It was Harold. He was being so nice. "You're gonna have to come out pretty soon, now."

  Javier shut his eyes. He whispered, "I'm too late. Right?"

  Amy nodded. She looked at the door. "If you wait until the truck leaves, you can probably get out without being noticed."

  Javier's eyes opened. He grabbed her shoulders and leaned over her until she had nowhere to look but his eyes. "What the hell is going on, Amy?" His grip tightened. "In case you've forgotten, you're the one who broke me out of a dumpster, delivered my son, annihilated your aunts, and took out two bounty hunters. This should be nothing to you." He swallowed. "What happened? Did you short-circuit when you t-touched the f-fucking f-fence?"

  Amy frowned. "How do you know about the fence?"

  "There was video–"

  Another knock, louder this time. "Amy, honey, I know you're probably scared. But I've talked it out with Harold, and he says it's very humane, the holdi
ng facility."

  "Jesus Christ," Javier whispered.

  Gently, Amy detached his hands from her shoulders. "I was going to take Junior with me. He's bluescreened, and I don't know how to help him. I thought the people in Redmond might. There's a lab, with specialists. But if you'd rather–"

  "If I'd rather? I'd rather you snapped the fuck out of it–"

  "They have my mother, Javier."

  That silenced him. His hands fell to his sides. His gaze dropped to the floor.

  "I thought I had saved her, but I was wrong. All I did was make things worse. And now she's in a cage, and I have to get her."