by Ramona Finn
She grins at me. “Good point. Still having issues with Wolf?”
I shrug. “Technically, no. I guess we’re okay. I just feel weird not doing any missions.”
She makes a frustrated noise, her pretty face pouting and scrunching up. “No kidding. I’m so angry about that! I mean, we need this stuff, right? And are the drones just going to give up? No. We’ve finally started hitting them back and now we’re just going to stop? I’d like to point out that, if we do give up, there will be more drones than ever.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?
“Think about it. By now, the AI has figured out that we’re killing its drones, right? It’s not like the Rogues typically go out and kill drones. Usually they just hide form them. The AI probably keeps tabs on all kinds of production rates and how many are destroyed. Which means it knows that someone’s been killing them—and we’re the prime candidates. After all, who else has gone after the AI directly?”
“What’s your point?”
Alis rolls her eyes.“My point is, there are an awful lot out there given how many we’ve destroyed. Which means it’s got to be producing more. And not just enough to replace the ones we’ve destroyed, either.”
“Maybe it just seems that way, because we’re actively looking for them now.”
“Maybe, but wouldn’t it make more sense that the AI is retaliating?”
I think about it a long moment. I’m about to shake my head, but I stop myself. Realization comes to me slowly, but when it does, it’s like being hit by a ton of rocks. “She’s going to make enough of them to make sure we can’t kill them all. She’s going to make sure there’s an army of them.”
Alis nods. “I mean, not that there isn’t already an army, but there’ll be bigger one. Because now it knows they’re being destroyed, so it has to build reinforcements, right?”
I agree with her entirely. Our only hope is that the AI doesn’t have enough materials to complete any such plans, but I doubt that. We fall silent and Alis peruses what I’ve found until my stomach makes a gurgling noise.
“I’m going to get breakfast,” I mumble to her.
She waves me off, still picking through the junk I’ve brought back with me. I leave her to it, pushing aside thoughts of more drones, but I can’t keep my thoughts away from that article. It’s shoved into my bag, which I grabbed off the table before heading out, and the urge to pull it out again is far too tempting. My stomach reminds me that I’m hungry, however, so I get food first—dried fruit and jerky—and then find a place to sit. It’s getting full in the main room now; everyone’s mostly awake, but I find a spot near a wall that’s mostly unoccupied. I don’t see Skye or Dat, the only other Glitches besides Alis, so I figure it’s unlikely that anyone will join me. I’ll be alone with some privacy, thanks to the wide berth the Rogues give us Glitches.
I spot Wolf across the room, but he’s talking with Mole. We’ve been a little distant lately anyway. This morning, I don’t mind.
I eat quickly, and then I can’t resist pulling out the newsprint again. I’ve only had the chance to read the article once and I hope that maybe there’s more on the back. Had Alis not interrupted me, I would have checked then and there. But I didn’t want anyone watching. Ironic that in the biggest room in the tunnels I’m alone enough to have some privacy, I think wryly to myself.
I read through the article once more and find myself wishing that I had the rest of this series. Or any more newsprints. Anything that would tell me about the old world. My craving for more pushes me to turn the article over. Instantly, I freeze.
There’s a photograph, black and white, that is incredibly faded. It shows a woman with her dark hair pulled back and a small, but soothing smile. Her eyes speak of intelligence and are so familiar that I feel a spiking pain in my chest.
Connie? I think, disbelief coursing through me. It can’t be!
But it is. This picture is the same image that the AI uses for its holographic projection. An impossible coincidence. I glance beneath the picture and read the caption: Dr. Constance Sig, bioengineer and self-proclaimed creator of artificial intelligence.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I spend my time after breakfast mulling over my discovery. The connection to the AI is clear in the picture stuffed into the pockets of my canvas pants. The worn image of the doctor is proof enough for me, at least. I’ve seen her holographic image displayed before me. It’s a match to this scientist who had to have died years and years ago. But it’s not her connection to the AI that has me obsessing over this little scrap of paper. It’s a less tangible connection to my own self.
I have no family that I can remember. Of course, someone had to conceive me, give birth to me, hopefully even love me. But if those people exist, the memories of them are locked away so tightly in my brain that they may never come out.
Except that I do have some memories. Of that woman’s face, smiling at me. Talking to me.
Maybe they’re only the AI, I concede silently to myself. But I hope they’re not. Instead, I hope that maybe it is some descendant of this woman that is my mother. Someone who inherited the perfect genetic combination so as to look nearly identical to her.
That’s possible, right?
Whether it is or not, it breeds hope in my chest. And it brings about the intense desire to find this woman and embrace her as my mother.
That urge is what fuels me to get up off the bedding where I’ve been daydreaming and head down the hall towards the training room. I need someone to talk to. Maybe it should have been Skye or Alis that I went to, but my burning need to share brings only one face to the surface.
Wolf’s.
If anyone can understand, he will.
With this thought in mind, I screw up my courage and march all the way down the hall. I spot Wolf instantly in the training room, my eyes drawn to him as he moves easily through the air. He’s the reason I’m as strong as I am, I think wonderingly. Not biogear or tech or anything the AI may or may not have done to me. Him. He trained me to be strong and I will never forget that.
I watch him a moment longer, appreciating the tautness of his muscles and the easy movement of his thick legs. For someone so big, he moves effortlessly, like a bird in flight.
Shaking my head, I move towards him, only to stop a second later as I see more of the room—and who he’s fighting against as she hurtles herself towards him.
Bird lets out a lighthearted laugh that I haven’t heard in a long time. The ribbons tied through her thick, wild mane flutter in the air as she hops from foot to foot. The room is large enough to fit half the Rogues in it comfortably. And about that is here today. I’m only at the entrance and Wolf and Bird spar near the center of the ring. She says something to Wolf that I can’t catch and he lets out a loud laugh in response to it. I feel my heart sink in my chest as I watch them.
She moves like lightning as he strikes at her, spinning around to tap him on the shoulder just after she ducks beneath him. He rounds on her, but there’s a smile on his face. He’s enjoying this.
He and I haven’t trained in ages. And lately, we can’t seem to agree on anything.
But it’s worse than that. There are flat surfaces carved into the walls, seating for those waiting to spar or those who are just watching. Today, they’re almost filled. Rogues watch on and cheer when Bird swats at Wolf; they yell out encouragements when Wolf sidesteps one of her pin-wheeling kicks.
Pinching the newsprint between my fingertips, tight enough to turn them white, I turn away from the scene and head back the way I came. I don’t want to watch them anymore.
They don’t want me near him. They think he plays favorites with me. They think of me as just a stupid Glitch.
The only ones I’ve ever found any support from were my fellow Glitches—and only one of the original four remains.
I feel a sharp pang in my chest as I think of Raj. His dark curling hair, his deep eyes, his snarky smile and his moody attitude. And his determinati
on. To stop the AI, to go home. His belief that I am somehow special.
Before I realize it’s happening, tears are running down my cheeks. The thought of him is awful, a pang of sorrow deeper than anything else I know. I never should have left him, I think, guilt eating away at me. I should have gone back for him. I should go back for him.
The thought hits me with such intensity that I come to a staggering halt and put my hand against the wall to steady myself. I should go back for him.
The problem with the impulse is that it assumes that he’s still there, in the Norm. That there’s someone to go back for. It’s an impossible wish, to think he might still be alive, but now that I’ve thought it, I can’t shake it. What if he is alive? What if he has been all this time?
What if I can still save him?
I shove off from the wall and hurry out of the tunnel. It opens up into the largest room and there are a dozen people or so, Rogues, milling about and talking. More come in and others leave, but I barely spare them a glance. I need to get out of here.
…
I move through the tunnels easily, intent on washing away my hurt from seeing Wolf and Bird spar. I tell myself that he is the leader, he spars with everyone, but the ease with which they move… It stirs up something uncomfortable and mean in my gut.
All I can do is turn my attentions elsewhere in an attempt to avoid the sting of my emotions. I choose Raj’s rescue and then have a brief moment of guilt for using it as a distraction. That guilt is pushed easily to the side at least.
There are a lot of issues with the idea of mounting a rescue mission for Raj.
The first and most obvious being that Wolf will never approve it. I grimace as I walk, the thought of Wolf bringing back the emotions I’m trying to avoid.
He’d say no for practical reasons, I think, a lame attempt at comforting myself. We’re in the midst of a period of deliberately not sending out scavenging parties. Fighting against the drones continually results in the deaths of our own—so how could it be any better within the Norm?
But there’s more to consider than just that.
I have no idea where to begin with such a mission as rescuing Raj. The Norm is not as big a place as the Outside—in fact, comparatively speaking, it’s tiny—but tiny is relative, and that’s a lot of space to check when you know someone is after you. And the AI will be after me, without a doubt. That pursuit puts me on the clock, and if I don’t know where I’m going, there won’t be any point in going at all. I won’t get out of there with even myself, much less Raj.
If I can figure out where he’s being kept, I might stand a chance, I think as I make my way towards the Tech Room. It won’t change the fact that the AI will be after me, but if I know where I’m going, then I can cut my time down by a lot. Maybe enough that I can get to him before the drones get to me.
I arrive at the Tech Room to find that Alis is still there. She’s not kidding; she is always here, I think. I notice that Dat has made his way here, too, though he’s sleeping with his back against the wall and his head slumped forward, chin to chest. A blanket’s been tossed over him—probably Alis’s work.
Heading over to her workstation, I glance down at the table. It’s covered with tech, specifically what looks like Alis’s biogear. “What are you working on?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet slightly. Really, I want to ask her about the Norm and see if she has suggestions about where to start looking for Raj. Maybe even get her in on a plan with me, but I try to play it cool and collect myself. I need to think rationally if I’m going to come up with a decent plan.
I shove the clipping into the pocket of my canvas pants. I’m wearing it out, I know, but I’ve read it enough times that I have it memorized. And if no one else thinks it’s important, then it doesn’t really matter anyway, right?
Alis makes a frustrated sound beside me, clearly not happy. “I just can’t get my biogear to work half as effectively as yours. I’ve looked over all of your wiring and duplicated it. Even improved on it, if you don’t mind my saying. And it’s still not as good—not even close. I just don’t understand it. What am I doing wrong?”
I bite my lip. There may be an answer, but like the newsprint that’s half crumpled in my pocket, I’m not sure if I want to share my thoughts. I’ve thought about it before, but the more trouble Alis seems to have with the biotech, the more I feel that it’s true. It doesn’t have anything to do with Alis doing something wrong. I think it’s a biological thing, something in my own personal system that allows me to form a stronger connection with the tech. I don’t know why I think this, but somewhere in my bones, I feel it’s true.
Raj always thought I was different.
I pick up some of the copper wiring Alis has been working with. I begin to twist it, and then grab the candle nearby. It burns hotter than most, thanks to the sulfuric additive in the wax. Normally, that would seem like a really terrible idea, but when you’re working with metals, it’s extremely useful. I use the flame to solder the two pieces together. As I work, Alis asks me, “So, have you worked things out for yourself?”
For a while, I say nothing. I put myself into working with Alis’s gear, though I can’t help but remember Wolf and Bird and the cheering Rogues. After a while, I admit, “Maybe I was wrong.”
“Wrong?” Alis asks carefully.
My hand remains steady as I pull the pieces together, twist them, and rearrange them. “About Wolf,” I tell her, keeping my voice even, despite the emotion raging within me. “Maybe he isn’t the right kind of match for me.”
I risk a glance over at Alis. She looks not quite smug, but pleased. When she notices me looking, she coughs into her hand, covering the satisfaction. “Sorry. I know you had a thing for him and all.”
Have a thing, I correct her silently. I’m not dumb enough to think I’m over it yet. “Yeah,” is all I say.
“Look, I know that this hurts,” Alis begins, sounding gentle but encouraging. “But you’re meant for great things. Wolf, he’s stuck in the old ways. He doesn’t’ know what to do with someone like you.”
I frown. I don’t agree with her, but I’m starting to think that Wolf isn’t as wise as I first thought. Maybe he doesn’t know anything—and maybe he doesn’t know me. Though it hurts me to think it, I finally allow myself to...
He doesn’t see me as anything more than a resource.
It’s an awful, hurtful thought. It makes my chest hurt and my eyes blur, but I hold the tears at bay, focusing on Alis’s gear. One good thing comes from the conclusion, at least: it solidifies my decision to go after Raj. If he’s alive, I’ll save him. I don’t know how yet, but I can and I will, no matter what.
And Wolf can’t stop me.
CHAPTER NINE
I wake up early the next day with the intent of going into the Empties again. Maybe I won’t find anything of value, but I might get lucky. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, I think. More information on the AI? More about the doctor who created her—and whose face the AI wears? Maybe, but none of those answers feel quite right.
Maybe I’m looking for evidence that Dr. Sig had children, I think a little wildly.
Regardless of my reasons, I know that I feel better out there searching than I do waiting around here as most of the clan seems determined to go against me.
I pack lightly. Just a few pieces of dried fruit and jerky, and a small container of water. Ever precious as it is, I hate taking too much. And besides, it’s too heavy for me to take a lot of it with me. I put on my biogear which I wear on my person, and then I’m ready to go. My mostly empty shoulder bag is slung across my chest diagonally and I clutch at the strap as I head to one of the exits. I have to cross from the sleeping area through the main room in order to get to the other tunnels, though, and once I break through, I’m stopped just before the exit tunnel.
By Wolf.
He towers over me still, though I’m not short for a girl. As I look up at his wide
shoulders and his dark eyes, I remember my conversation with Alis. You’re meant for great things. I don’t know if that’s true, but I know that, in the end, I can’t be only a resource to Wolf. I need family and acceptance. If he won’t offer that, I’ll find it elsewhere.
I take a deep breath and try to maneuver myself around him, but he reaches out for my arm to stop me. It takes all I have not to jerk out of his grasp, and only the knowledge that it won’t help my situation stops me from doing so.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands.
I can hear the irritation in his voice, so I purse my lips together and think about my answer. None of your business, sounds like a really good response, but I know it’s not. I’m angry with him—if hurt, more than anything, I guess—and some part of me is trying to antagonize him, I know. Knowing this, I take a moment to calm down and then say, “Going out. I have things to do.” Again, I try to move around him, but this time he just steps into my path to stop me.
“Out? Out where? There’s no mission scheduled. We agreed to take it easy after—”
“It’s not a mission,” I snap. I haven’t forgotten that he’s put aside the missions that I think are so important just because Bird told him to. “I’m going out. By myself. Or is that not allowed either?” I lift my chin, challenging him.
His dark eyes narrow at me, anger etching across his features. “What’s out there? If it’s not a mission, then what’s the point? Home means safety, Lib.”
I shake my head, stepping around him and beginning to walk as I speak. “Maybe, but I’m not really sure this is home.”
“How can you say that?” he demands, hurt and anger mingling in the tone of his voice. “Of course this is your home!”
“No, it’s just the place that took me in when I didn’t know where or what home was,” I counter, turning to face him and speaking before I can think things through, lest I chicken out. “And there are people here that I care for—” My eyes flicker up to him of their own accord and I wish they wouldn’t. I jerk them away quickly and turn to walk faster. He keeps pace easily. “But there are people here who don’t want me here. People that don’t trust me.”