Romy: Book I of the 2250 Saga

by Nirina Stone

  Surely there is another certification or two I can attain there. I will never be a Level A, though. My heart condition will always work against me. And do I really want to end up working with Margo again? I shiver. What choice do I have?

  The door opens while I’m still lost in my thoughts, when I find myself shaking. I see Isaac is standing in front of me, concern on his face. “Are you well, Romy Fifty Two?”

  “I’m just—I—” What am I? Scared? Tired? Worried? “Thinking about the training,” I finally answer, my eyes trained on Isaac. He keeps his eyes on me for a moment too long, then he ushers me into the room and closes the door behind us.

  “Is something the matter?” he asks. “The training won’t be long. This module will help you understand newer technologies better.”

  “Not at all.” I try to inject the right amount of enthusiasm to my voice. “I’m just—I had a conversation with Amy Diamond,” I finish. Honesty has worked well for me so far when it comes to talking to Isaac.

  “Yes?” he prompts me to go on as he sits in a small metal chair in front of mine.

  “She made an interesting observation,” I say, looking around the room at the strewn pieces of metal and plastic and various other bits and pieces from machinery throughout the house. The robotics room is a larger scale version of Isaac’s massive table in his bedroom.

  “All the machinery in this house do not require human intervention.” I watch for his reaction. “So she wonders why I’m here.”

  Isaac raises a wrinkled brow, his black eyes beaded on me. “Amy has always been a curious child,” he finally replies. “I have tried many a time to teach her about robotics, but she really has no interest in it. If it’s not an animalbot of some kind, it might as well not exist!” He turns around and waves at all the bits and bobs in the room, the tone in his voice that of a frustrated parent. “Is it surprising she would say that?” He turns back to look at me. “She’s a clueless little Prospo, who only notices the occasional bot roam around, working in the house. She does not care about all the other machinery she never sees on a daily basis, does she? Don’t worry about her words.”

  But I worry. I worry about everything and everyone in this house. I’ll admit that I worry mostly about myself. So I’m back to thinking I have to formulate a plan to escape surrogacy.

  First, I go back to my room. It’s nearly time for my weekly video chat with Father. Every time I speak with him, he looks so much older and more tired than the week before. He still doesn’t tell me what’s going on though.

  “Romy,” he greets, the moment my screen opens up.

  “Good day, Father,” I reply, keeping an eye on the clock. We are still allowed five minutes to speak, so I quickly run through my week with him, filling him in with what I know about the Diamonds and Isaac, so far.

  He finds Isaac intriguing, so I focus my chatter on him.

  “How is his wrist?” Father asks, as he has since the day I told him about Isaac’s condition.

  “The pain comes and goes,” I answer honestly, “but he seems fine.”

  He looks down quickly, then back up at me. There’s definitely something on his mind and we only have two minutes left.

  “What’s going on Father?” I ask.

  “I may not be at Azure much longer,” he says carefully. He looks up and beyond his screen. I wonder what he’s looking at. Does he mean he’s going to get auctioned, after all? Is he no longer deemed Too Dangerous? I wait for him to continue but he stares through the screen at me. Did it freeze? What’s going on?

  Father’s head snaps up and he looks past the top of his screen, his big black eyes wide. Is that fear? Anger? He noisily pushes his chair back as he stands. All I see is his torso. He’s yelling, “No! Stop!” while I say, “Father! What is it? What’s going on? Who’s there?” I grab for him, but only manage to push the screen away from me.

  He dashes to the left past his desk and then he’s no longer in my view. I hear him yell, “Stop! My name is Brian—” and then a scuffle. His screen is pushed forward to the edge of the table. The camera is facing down and points at his chair as it turns a slow loop until it stops moving completely.

  I yell, “Father! Father!” when I hear the unmistakable zap of stun guns and then nothing. “Father! What’s going on? Father!” I scream, but nothing happens. My voice catches and my cheeks are hot with tears . My chest hurts and I’m shaking. Where is he?

  Then our five minutes are up and the screen goes black.

  When I try to connect with him at our usual time the following week, I hear ringing on my end, but nothing happens on his. I’ve attempted to connect with the Internal Comms team at Azure, but they have no reason to humour a hysterical ex-inmate with worries about her inmate father. I’m terrified of the worst.

  Then Isaac assures me that, after the Diamonds leave, and after my training, he will come with me to Azure and see Father. Isaac is convinced Father’s fine, that he only had a small altercation with some of the other inmates. It was not unheard of, on the male side of the wall. I’m not convinced. Father was a pro at keeping his head down in all his time at Azure. He was exceptionally diplomatic in all his dealings there. I can’t get the sound of the stun gun out of my head. Isaac says if anyone meant him real harm, they would not have bothered to stun him.

  There is an element of truth to that logic, but I until I see Father, I won’t stop fretting for him.

  It’s particularly dark and cloudy, the day the Diamonds are heading back to their ‘Summer’ home. Roberta Thirty Five has coordinated everything and I stay away as much as possible while she flits back and forth between rooms, making sure everything they require is packed and ready to be sent ahead, in a separate vehicle.

  “They’re very particular,” she whispers. “If John Diamond doesn’t have his exact set of ‘Summer House’ shirts, I will never hear the end of it.”

  I lock myself up in the robotics room until they leave, not really wanting to bump into any of them before their departure. Especially not Amy Diamond. Over the months, her attitude towards me has turned from indifference to mild interest to complete hostility.

  The only time I hear her say my name kindly is when she calls over the new caninebot she’s called ‘Romy.’ It’s confusing.

  Most of the time, when she calls it over, I turn around to say, “Yes?” and she cackles so hard, I expect her to fall on the floor laughing. On the other hand, if I ignore her calling for ‘Romy,’ thinking she means the caninebot, she’ll be peeved I did not respond to her and then she complains about me to her father.

  John Diamond looks up at me with a blank stare, I sometimes wonder if he’s breathing. I’m glad they’re leaving. It will serve as a little break for me because I won’t have to worry about bumping into one of them anywhere in the house. Surprisingly, I find myself missing Roberta’s sparkly chatty personality, all but gone when they’re around.

  “Are you coming to see off the Diamonds?” Isaac asks as he stands up to walk out of the robotics room.

  “I said my goodbyes earlier,” I quickly say. It’s not entirely a lie. I did say goodbye and happy travels to Cassiandra Diamond. The others were in the room, too. I made sure to say it loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

  “Do consider surrogacy,” Cassiandra had said. “As for your heart—well it’s awful isn’t it? But doctors nowadays are incredible, they’ll find a way to make it stronger! If even just for a few months.” Then she tapped my shoulder twice and turned away. “They haven’t yet because you’re a Citizen, but we’ll need our surrogate in perfect form, won’t we John?”

  John Diamond watched me with his steel gray eyes as I walked out of the room. It was like he was taking an x-ray with his eyes to confirm if there was indeed an issue with my heart.

  Isaac is watching me quietly now, and I wonder what his wise old eyes notice. Then I wonder how he can possibly love John Diamond.

  “In any case,” Isaac says, “we’re heading for your training, later. A
re you ready?”

  “Yes,” I reply. “I’m looking forward to it.” It’s not an exaggeration. It has been nearly a year since I received my certification and left Azure. I’m definitely looking forward to a refresher course in robotics, and learning more about my chosen trade, now that I’m comfortable with the everyday workings of it.

  “Good,” he replies, “good.” Then he’s out the door to say goodbye to the Diamonds.

  In a matter of hours, we are heading out the door ourselves, Isaac dressed in a suit and raincoat, myself in my usual purple uniform.

  “It might rain,” he says, popping on a hat. “Why don’t you put on a raincoat, too?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply, not really believing it will rain. Yes, the dark clouds are still there but it looks like a warm, dry day, despite that. “Besides we will only be outside for a few minutes,” I continue, knowing we will head down two blocks towards the Knowledge Hub.

  Isaac loves to take walks when he can and I am more than happy to comply. It helps me clear my head.

  “The Diamonds will be away for four months,” Isaac says as we step out onto the sidewalk. “Then they plan to go to the moon for a while, too.”

  “Oh,” I say, not entirely surprised. There is an established colony on the moon, a popular vacation destination for some of the Prospo. I can’t imagine what it would be like. My family could never afford to go there. “Have you ever been to the moon?” I ask, turning to watch a handful of cars on the road. The city streets are never busy, so anytime a vehicle passes, it catches our attention.

  Isaac once told me our ancestors used to sit in their vehicles for hours on end, waiting in traffic, as they headed to work. I can’t imagine how impatient I would get, sitting, waiting, not moving for hours.

  “Yes,” he replies. “They did take me there once, a few years ago. The children were still toddlers.”

  A wet drop splatters on my skin and I look up at the sky. Didn’t Isaac tell me his condition warns him when it’s going to rain? Why did I not listen to him? Another drop lands on my head and I know I will be soaked by the time we arrive at the Knowledge Hub.

  “What’s it like?” I ask, wiping another drop from my cheek, as I look up at Isaac. There’s no point in walking faster. We will walk at Isaac’s pace. It’s not entirely slow, but it’s not swift, either.

  “It’s a lot like Prospo City,” he replies, “but more institutional.”

  I’m not quite sure what that means, but I see the Knowledge Hub and hasten as the rain drops faster.

  “I don’t really get it though.” He walks slightly faster too, to keep up with me. “Why go all the way to the moon if it’s going to look and feel exactly like Prospo City?”

  I just laugh. It’s a good question, though I expect the Prospo would have some answer that sounds reasonable to them. I have never been interested in the moon, not since it was colonized. It’s a big white and gray powdery rock in the sky that we then dug into and mined. The pictures of its colonies indicate it’s an exact replica of everything you can find in Prospo City.

  “Maybe,” I finally say, as the rain drips down my back. “Maybe it’s worth it for the view?” I imagine that you look out and see the Earth, and the view might be worth it all. I can’t think of any other reason to visit. We’ve turned the moon into a second Earth. A poor substitute for the real thing.

  “What are you doing?” Isaac asks, startled.

  I turn to him to say we need to move faster or we’ll be soaked, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at something behind me, a deep frown on his face. It’s raining so hard, all I hear are the heavy raindrops hitting the sides of the cars and the pavement.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he yells and steps forward. His voice sounds oddly strained through the heavy rain. Before I turn to whoever he’s addressing, I feel an intense pain on the back of my head accompanied by the sound of a muffled thud. The pain is sharp, intense. It shoots down my spine like lightning. I close my eyes and raise a hand to the back of my head instinctively, thinking something heavy fell on me.

  I hear a grunt from Isaac and another thud. Did he collapse?

  Then, before I have another thought, I’m falling forwards too, and my world goes black.

  Captors

  When I wake, I can barely open my eyes. The pain is still so intense, my head throbs. When I force my eyes open to a mere slit, all I see is black.

  Am I dead? Was that the Vorkian? No, of course not—I haven’t made the effort to contact one and they never come to get you before you’re ready. They’re ethical, that way.

  Over the pounding in my temple, I feel a tight cloth over my eyes. Okay, so I can’t see because my eyes are covered. I flinch when I realize my wrists are bound tight too, behind my back.

  My forehead crumples in a frown and my head throbs. By Odin, the pain! It’s quite unlike any other pain I’ve ever felt, not since I was a careless child that liked to climb trees and fall off.

  What is that? Is that an engine? There’s movement underneath me too. Am I in a van? I must be. My heart palpitates and I realize I need to calm it right down if I’m to figure out exactly what’s going on. I take a deep breath.

  I’m lying on a felt surface, scratchy and soft under my right cheek. It’s a bit rough but cold. I press my aching temple against it and sigh with relief as the cold diminishes my pain ever so slightly.

  The vehicle moves steadily ahead, and I breathe in again.

  I smell a small whiff of chemicals, sweat, and the heavy sweet herbal scent of jane. What I would do for some jane right now, I groan.

  Hearing a cough, I freeze as a deep male voice speaks in a language I do not speak, but recognize. I recognize it because I have heard it spoken on our news channels. It is a somewhat mixed language our ancestors started using, much after the disappearance of the north.

  It’s beautiful and melodic to hear, but for the fact that its speakers are a source of terror for most of us. I have never heard it from the mouths of the Prospo, nor the Citizen. It is a language only the Sorens speak.

  My heart beats hard in my throat and I have a difficult time swallowing. After all this time, after being so relieved I was lucky to be bid on and won by a Citizen, after all that, I still end up in the hands of the Sorens? Why? Why did they take me?

  I was about to learn more about my trade and become specialized. The Diamonds were to be away for months on end. I was going to Azure to find out what happened to Father. Things were looking up. Why did the Sorens take me now?

  My temple is pounding away, no matter how much I press it into the cold felt. My breaths are shallow and the sweat on my neck and back turns cold and dry. I hope I don’t throw up. I’m already so uncomfortable, so terrified. I’m blind. I’m bound. I’m being driven to some Soren City, somewhere. No one’s ever discovered where they are based. They move around a lot.

  I have no clue where Isaac is, or if he is still alive. I play the sound over and over in my head. He grunts. He falls. He grunts. He falls. Isaac grunts. Then Isaac falls.

  I can’t fight the rising pain in my chest as my eyes prickle with tears. A loud sob escapes me and I instinctively try to raise a hand to cover my mouth, but of course I can’t.

  The sobs are louder, and I don’t care. I don’t care if the Sorens hear me. They will hear me cry the entire time they hold me hostage. I can’t pretend that I’m strong or unafraid or above them. They will hear me cry for the rest of my life, however short that will be.

  I sob some more and hiccup. I always hiccup when I’m close to done crying. I turn my head slightly until my face is flush against the felt. I cry into it and my tears fall past my blind to get absorbed in the material.

  While I cry, my thoughts land on Isaac, Mother, Father, Arlene.

  My nose is blocked, so I breathe through my mouth. I keep crying until my eyes are squeezed dry. They’re not really dry, but there are no new tears anymore. I’m suddenly so exhausted.

  The throbbing has tra
velled to the back of my head. I sniff some more, then I fall into a deep sleep. The type of heavy, restless sleep that can only be achieved when you’ve cried so hard, your eyes are swollen shut.

  I wake again but don’t bother opening my eyes. It’s colder, and I’m no longer lying in the van. My stomach is queasy though there is no movement. That’s not material under my cheek, either. It’s cold tile. I open one eye. My head pounds, though it’s a lower kind of throb. It’s as if I can hear music from somewhere far, far away.

  My eyes are both open and, without raising my head, I look up and down but there’s nothing. It’s pitch black. There’s no pressure on my temples, though. My eyes are no longer bound.

  My arms are free too, though my ankles are still attached by something tight and uncomfortable. I reach down, but know it’s futile to try to take off the hard plastic binding. I can hear my shallow breath, in and out, in and out, but nothing else.

  Where am I? I lay still for a while, working on my breathing, and wait for the pounding to subside a little. I breathe out and watch a puff of white rise from my lips. My teeth chatter and I raise my head off the ground, because much as the cold is a relief on my aching head, my ear is numb.

  My eyes adjust to the dark and I can make out the profile of a door and four walls. The room is tiny. I won’t be able to stretch out in this space. Am I in a closet?

  I look up and note that the ceiling is low too, but other than my aching self, there is nothing else in the room.

  I wait. They must want me for something. I’m too terrified to formulate a plan—to fight with bound legs. Sure, I can still use my hands, my nails, my teeth. But my head is heavy and in pain, and I can’t fight the growing nausea. I can’t imagine I’ll be able to throw one useless punch before falling.

  This is ridiculous, but negativity consumes me.

  I sit up with reluctance, the pounding in my head more insistent. This could very well be the room I will die in. That thought depresses me. I don’t want to die in a cold, dark, empty hole. I don’t want to die.