by Ramona Finn
The idea that they have been nothing but numbers to me… it makes me feel awful inside. I try to remind myself that it’s always been for the greater good and that I never wanted anything bad to happen to them, but it doesn’t work. I see their faces and—
I shut my eyes against them, but I can’t block them out. They linger in my mind. My eyes turn watery as emotion climbs up my throat.
Don’t cry, whatever you do, don’t cry.
When I open my eyes, the members of the council are talking amongst themselves quietly and quickly. They do this for a moment longer, and then seem to stop simultaneously. Lark addresses me. “We did not call you here for punishment, Lib. We called you here to tell you of our concerns—and encourage your personal change. To remember that the individual is important, not just lives as statistics. But change does not happen overnight. Instead, we offer you time.”
“Or what?” I ask defiantly.
“Or you must leave.”
And just like that, the meeting is over. Everyone gets up and begins to leave. I feel the urge to talk to Wolf, but instead, I watch him file out with the other council members.
He didn’t say a word to me as he left. This hurts, though I tell myself it doesn’t. Reminding myself that Skye is here, too, I look around for her—and spot her walking out with Bird. She sends me an apologetic smile, but she doesn’t stop to wait for me. She just leaves with Bird instead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
That was a waste of time, I silently fume as I make my way towards the women’s sleeping quarters. All of that for a proclamation of “giving me time”. Whatever that even means. Am I just supposed to change my mind about everything because seven Rogues—and a Glitch, some part of me reminds me—think that I’m not giving enough individual attention to people?
“That’s ridiculous,” I mutter aloud, stomping my way down the tunnel. I’m grateful that I haven’t run into anyone since the meeting. It’s left me feeling raw and angry and guilty all at once. Because even as I list off the reasons for why that meeting was worthless, another part of me lists how I’ve done this all wrong.
I should have protected Lizzie.
I should have saved Sidewinder.
And what about Lion and Bear? Are their deaths my fault, too? Maybe. Probably. My mind can’t decide if it wants to blame me for everything or if it wants to martyr me for false accusations. As a result, my emotions are running high and my thoughts directly contradict each other.
Am I just callous? I wonder silently.
I don’t think so. I care about people. Raj and Skye and Wolf—except that when I list them off, I realize that each one is as much a mark of my mistakes as of my successes. Wolf took me into the clan as one of his own, but now he doesn’t even want to talk to me, it seems. Raj is—well, he’s gone. I hope he’s alive and I swear I’m going to try to find him, but I cannot deny that he may be gone forever. And now Skye, the first friend I ever made, doesn’t believe in what I’m doing. Instead, she trusts Bird.
If the three people who have mattered the most in my life no longer trust me, then maybe I have done something wrong. I thought all along that I’ve been doing the right thing by protecting the group, but now? The council thinks I’m doing this wrong—but what else should I be doing?
Treating each person like they’re important.
Still troubled by my thoughts, I find that although there are still pockets of women and girls sitting up and talking, most have bedded down for the night. I look around subconsciously, searching out two specific girls. It takes only a moment to spot them. They’re sitting at Bird’s spot—which has moved as far away from mine as possible since I’ve arrived. Once, she slept beside me, but that’s changed. A lot’s changed.
Bird has only just joined them, plopping down and letting her legs sprawl out in front of her, her weight resting against her outstretched arms. Sitting across from her is Skye, with her legs crossed and tucked underneath her. They’re too far away for me to hear them talking, but I see their lips moving and I see them both smiling. They laugh.
It hurts more than I thought something like that would. I don’t want to think about that, so I hurry to my little plot on the floor. But instead of lying down or getting ready for bed, I grab my bag. I leave quickly, making a point to not look back at the girls.
Grab my biogear, some supplies, head out before anyone notices—I make the mental list in my head and have almost made it down the tunnel to the main room when a small hand on my shoulder stops me.
I spin around and am surprised to see Skye. And I’m angry, too.
I shake off her hand and pointedly turn away without saying anything to her. It’s rude and not fair to Skye, I think, but I don’t care just now. I can feel the sting of betrayal as being plenty fresh. I cling to the anger it brings gratefully.
“Lib, don’t be like that,” Skye tells me. I can hear her footsteps quicken to keep up with me, but I don’t slow down or acknowledge her. “I’m really not against you. We just think that—”
Finally, I stop and spin around so fast that Skye collides with me. She lets out an oomph, but recovers her balance quickly. She takes a step back. I fold my arms across my chest. “We?”
“Um, everyone, you know—”
But I interrupt her again. “Yeah, I do know. When did you and Bird become so close anyway?”
Skye hesitates, probably at the bite in my tone or the hurt buried beneath it. “It just happened.” She shrugs. “After Raj… Well, we just found we had something in common.” At my raised eyebrows, she sighs and adds, “We both miss him.”
Her words sting. “And I don’t miss him?” I demand angrily.
“That’s not what I meant,” she tells me quickly, but it’s not enough to wipe out the anger that’s just surfaced. “I only meant that… I don’t know. You’ve been distant. But Bird really liked Raj and I… He was my first real friend, you know?”
Just like Skye was mine, I think, but don’t say. I grit my teeth tightly instead, too angry to let her make me feel guilty for not being there for her. And besides, she clearly found Bird, who hates me. Why didn’t she just come to me if she needed someone?
Finally, I say, “I’ve got to go.”
She frowns. “Where?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her and then I’m rounding the bend in the tunnel, out of sight. She doesn’t follow me.
…
I walk through the desert, grateful that the sun is down so the heat isn’t blistering like it normally would be. I haven’t brought a lot of water with me—it’s such a precious resource, and if something happens to me out here, it would be a shame to waste it. Plus, I think I can get more if I need to.
Not that I want to deal with the AI right now.
Since the last mission—over two weeks ago now—I’ve been thinking over what happened in the AI mainframe. Part of my hesitance is what I found inside the mainframe the last time. That information I found… it was clinical, like I was a test subject. I’m beginning to think that what she did to me was more extensive than I originally thought. I’m a Glitch that she modified so that, when I was sent out into the Outside, I would be useful to her. I had thought this meant only small things... like a means of tracking me. Now I’m not so sure. I think what I found means that I am an experiment of hers. Maybe she manipulated me physically or mentally. Am I part machine now? Was I always this way?
It’s all made me not want to hack into the system right now. And since we’ve had no official missions in weeks, I don’t have to explain my hesitance to anyone.
I’m a long way from the tunnels now, but I embrace the distance. I feel better going to the Empties
Coming up ahead are towers that jut into the sky like the spikes on a king’s crown. They are outlined only barely by the light of the stars, but they are still just as impressive as I remember them.
I should be there in maybe an hour. By then, I’ll have lost what’s left of the light, but I’m not worried. I have my ge
ar and I should be able to navigate the streets easily enough.
As I get closer, the towers spread farther apart until I can see that they’re the ragged remains of a long gone civilization. The world that messed it all up in the first place. As the streets become visible, I start to notice the old broken-down cars, not so dissimilar from our ATVs. Beyond them are mostly weathered pieces of broken glass or grime covered windows. The entire place speaks of age.
Five days ago, when I first came here on my own, I wasn’t sure why I was wandering out here at all. I thought I just needed some time to myself, but now I think it’s something else driving me. Now I think I’m actually looking for something, though I’m not sure what.
I’ll know when I find it, I assure myself.
I look through the broken windows and find trinkets and nicknacks. I search the broken down vehicles, useless to us now. They ran on gas, though I doubt they run at all now. Faded papers swirl across the street in a breeze that manages to make it through the towering buildings. I snatch at it and stuff it in my bag, not even sure why. Nothing screams at me “what I’m looking for” which is disappointing. But I keep looking anyway. I travel inside the buildings, climbing several flights of rickety old stairs. I pick my way carefully through them to make sure that I don’t get hurt or fall through. The wood creaks beneath my boots.
I peek inside old homes, noting how some of them are torn up, as though people just threw things around inside of them. Others seem pristine. Left exactly as they had been years and years ago.
Nothing inside these seems of use or interest and I end up back down at the base of the buildings. I keep searching, aware that my light will fade faster and faster as I linger between the buildings.
I end up in some sort of storage space, I think. There are rolls of coppery wires, which I grab eagerly, as well as old keyboards and screens. I pick through the best of them, finding pieces that aren’t cracked and carefully pocketing them.
When I’ve picked through that storage building, I step back out into the abandoned streets. The sun has dipped so low that its light is just barely shining through. I sigh; it’s time to go. I haven’t found what I’m looking for, I don’t think, but I don’t want to stay here through the night. So I turn towards home.
…
I climb down into the tunnels again. It’s very early morning—maybe early enough that not everyone’s up yet. As I make my way forward, I find that I’m sort of right. There are a few people milling around, but they look sleepy like they’re still waking up. Some give me curious looks, eyeing the bag I have slung across my shoulders, but I don’t offer anything in explanation. I don’t say anything at all.
I head directly towards the Tech Room, though most of what I’ve collected has been so low-tech that I doubt it will be useful. In fact, if this had been an official scavenging mission, I’d probably be calling it a bust.
But it wasn’t really about finding this stuff—it was about searching for something else. Though I don’t know what I’m really looking for.
As I make a beeline for the Tech Room, I run into the last person I want to see. Bird. I try to swerve around her, to avoid her completely, but she apparently isn’t interested in that this morning. She steps directly into my path, blocking my way. I try to move around her again, but she just adjusts.
Finally, I let out a huff of irritation. “What do you want?”
She answers my question with a question of her own. “What do you think you’ll find out there?”
I blink in surprise. “What?”
“In the Empties,” she clarifies, her eyes shifting to my bag meaningfully. “What do you think you’ll find?”
I clear my throat and straighten up, shifting my bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I try to move around her again, but she won’t let me get away so easily.
She laughs as she shifts to block me. “Of course you do. Where else could you possibly go that would mean you’d be gone all night?”
She shoots me a catty grin. Trying to ignore her, I finally manage to push past and get into the tunnel that will lead me to my destination. Unfortunately, Bird just follows me.
“Don’t worry,” she tells me casually. “I won’t tell anyone. What does it matter to me if you go there by yourself? At least that way you can’t get any more of my friends killed.”
Her words actually make me freeze. I feel angry and tired all at once, but anger wins out. I swivel to face her, ready to yell at her, to defend myself. But she just flashes me one more smile, and then turns and walks away. I want to yell something after her, but what’s the point?
Frustrated, I stalk down the tunnel to the Tech Room.
I try to remind myself not to let Bird get to me as I dump my bag out on the table, the collection not so much tech as a bunch of pieces of mostly useless junk. Pieces of curved glass and gems. Pieces of broken jewelry. And pictures. Old pictures. They’re so faded that I can barely make some of them out, but I stuffed them in my bag all the same. I’m still not certain why.
As I sift through the pictures, I notice that some are clipped pieces of paper with only people in them. Families and couples. Others are part of a wider piece that has been chopped up. I am staring down at a piece of what I am vaguely aware is newsprint, a type of paper once made from trees. Maybe that knowledge comes from part of my education, which the AI was so very interested in, or maybe it’s just common knowledge. It’s difficult to say which knowledge is common and what’s unique to my scrambled mind.
The pictures are interesting, but mostly useless. They don’t provide me with any new information. But the newsprint… The language is archaic in some ways, but much of it’s the same base language that we use today. I’m able to make out most of a clipping. There are words attached to the picture and I recognize this as an article.
Global Climate Change.
After the Board of Emissions shut down, people were expecting a high rise in greenhouse gases that might eat through our atmosphere and allow for deadly radiation to negatively impact our planet, to the point where it is unlivable. However, the Normandy Project promises that this will not be the case. They propose putting a dome over the entirety of the planet with this technology, maintaining complete climate control within, to be maintained by a regulatory computer program. This dome and the technology to make it possible, is only in the testing phases, the scientists inform us, but it’s only a matter of days before it will be up and operational.
As for the computer program that will ultimately manage this Normandy Project, Dr. Constance Sig is putting the final touches on a decade-long project which promises to be the perfect control for the Normandy.
“I’ve been working on it for years,” she told us in a NYCV interview. “It’s been a long road, but I think I’ve finally reached a point where the bugs are minimal and the output speed is incredible.”
There is no guarantee of a future for the world, but this dome might present us with one. With no other options, their promise not only for the future, but of the future is all we can hope for. Only time will tell if Dr. Sig and those at the Normandy Project will be successful in time.
The article seems to be part of a series, though I only found this one amidst the ruins. If there is a date, it has been removed from the article or faded past recognition. I make a mental note to continue searching for more similar articles, though I wonder if they’ll all tell me the same thing. I’m not entirely sure what it’s referencing. I know that the world started to suffer to the point where it was no longer viable for human existence—mostly—outside of the Norm. Could it have been these greenhouse gases that deteriorated everything so badly? Or was it something else?
“Lib, there you are.”
I jerk at the sound of Alis’s voice and shove the clipping into my bag, as though I’m afraid she’ll see it. I don’t know why.
“Alis, what are you doing here?”
She raises a ginger brow at me. “I’m always in here. I just fin
ished breakfast—which I noticed you weren’t around for—and I usually come here right after. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to see you at all today. You’ve been sort of an absentee lately.”
I let out a slow, calming breath. “Sorry. I’ve been… busy.”
Her eyes wander over to the table where I’ve dumped my stuff. The article is safely tucked away, but the pictures and the pieces of jewelry and glass still linger on the tabletop. “Hmm,” she murmurs, leaning over the pieces to get a closer look. “These don’t look like drone parts.”
I bite my lower lip, but shake my head. “Um, no. They’re…” I don’t know what to say, so I let the sentence drop.
She looks at me sideways. Her red hair is down this morning, hanging over her shoulders like a curtain. “They’re from the Empties, right?”
“How do you know about the Empties?” I ask in surprise. Though they aren’t a secret, they aren’t really talked about a lot either. I know of them mostly because I was officially initiated into the Tracker Clan. For all that’s worth, I think, surprised by my own bitterness.
“Most Glitches do, I think,” she says, picking up a piece of tarnished jewelry. It looks like a necklace—maybe silver or copper once, but now mostly coated with a greenish coloring. “We don’t really go there, of course, but we know about it.”
“Why don’t you go there?”
She gives me a look. “Because there’s nothing there, Lib. Just a bunch of useless old stuff.”
A frown tugs the corners of my mouth downward. “I guess.” I don’t tell her that my first biotech was basically engineered from that useless old stuff.
“Why are you going there?” she asks, putting the necklace down.
I hesitate. Bird also asked me, but I still don’t entirely have an answer. I’m searching for something, but I still don’t know what it is. Maybe I’ll never figure it out. By way of an answer, I say, “A place that’s deserted is an easy place to think.”