Contrition (The Perception Trilogy)

by Strauss, Lee

  “Anthony!”

  “I’m here, bud, I’m here. And YES. It worked!”

  I let out the breath I was holding and thanked God. “Have you heard from Zoe?”

  A pause. “Just before the upload, which she obviously succeeded in doing.”

  Just before. “Gotta go, Anthony. Good job and all that. We’ll meet later to debrief.”

  We signed off, and I immediately buzzed Zoe. No answer. Why wasn’t she answering? Just when I’d dared to let myself relax I tensed up again. Was Zoe okay? Every terrible scenario crossed my mind: she had been electrocuted, she fell, she fainted. A humanoid got to her.

  No. I had to believe she was alive. She’d lost her ComRing or it had been damaged. She was probably waiting for me at the church.

  My legs weighed heavy with fatigue, but I pushed myself back through the city. Cutting the humanoids mainline weblink had cut everything on the grid. All magnoelectric pods and electric vehicles were shut down. Those that were charged had crashed into the aborted vehicles in front of them.

  The streets were littered with downed humanoids. It was creepy. The whole city looked like a scene from a bad apocalyptic flick. I was puffing by the time I reached the back of the church. I didn’t stop to get my breath, just earnestly pressed the numbered code to unlock the door.

  I breezed in and stopped. It was empty. She wasn’t here. I paced in small circles, stirring up dust, and rubbed my buzz cut. What should I do? Wait? Go after her?

  Go after her. I’d probably meet up with her at the gate or something. I ensured the door was locked before breaking into a jog around the church and through the square.

  She wasn’t at the north gate. I hesitated for a split second before running into Sol City. There were no guards at the gates, no GAPs or borgs, just a lot humanoid corpses. Naturals were starting to peek in, curious. Soon, the looting would start and then all hell would break loose.

  I had to slow down half way there, bend over at the hips and catch my breath. I was fully human, and I was on the last of my reserves. My eyes followed up the glass ribbon that was the Sleiman tower and I groaned. It was a long way to the top.

  I fell into a jog again, keeping my eyes open for Zoe in case she was on her way back. I tapped my ring for her every few minutes, and her silence pushed me on.

  The front door of the tower was beat up in a way only a humanoid could do, and a freezing cold dread showered over me. They were chasing her.

  Even with a borg heart, Zoe was no match for a humanoid.

  I debated whether I should take the stairs or the elevator, surprised that the elevator door opened when I pushed the button. It must have its own emergency generator. Zoe had made it to the top, so she wouldn’t be in the stairwell.

  Unless she was on her way down?

  I decided on the elevator. It would get me to the top in minutes, and if she wasn’t there, I’d take the stairs down. My nerves fired off as each floor number grew larger.

  When I reached the top, I rushed onto the roof and swore. A humanoid was down. Fried. It meant Zoe had been in a shootout. The door to the tower room was broken off.

  My throat squeezed closed. I was afraid of what I was about to find in there.

  “Zoe?”

  I yelled when I saw what was inside. A downed humanoid and Zoe on the ground beside it. Its hands were wrapped around Zoe’s throat.

  “Zoe!” In an instant I was there, breaking the mechanical hands away. I rolled Zoe onto her back and pressed my fingers to her neck. Please be a pulse.

  A slight beat.

  I cupped my hands and pressed down on her lower ribs. Did resuscitation work on clones with cyborg hearts?

  I tilted her head back and breathed into her mouth, then continued pumping her chest.

  “C’mon, Zoe. Wake up.”

  More breaths. More thrusts.

  “Zoe!” You can’t die.

  I leaned back on my heels and let out a wail. All of this effort was for her. For us. I couldn’t lose her now. Not when we finally had a chance.

  I thrust her chest one more time.

  And she coughed.

  “Zoe?”

  She groaned and gasped for breath. I lifted her head and shoulders up, and pulled her onto my lap. “Zoe! You’re okay. I’m here.”

  She took several raspy breaths. Her eyes fluttered open and she squinted as she registered whom she was with. Me. Then she smiled softly. “Did we do it?”

  I burst out laughing and held her close. “Yes, we did. We did it.”

  Epilogue

  ZOE

  The world was a mess with a capital M. It took months to clean things up and restore order. The rebel army took control of all governing issues, from policing the ongoing looting to reorganizing parliament. We had democratic elections eight months after the weblink takedown, and people slowly found order after the chaos.

  There were mountains created with humanoid parts, but it would be a very long time before anyone saw another robot or borg. All the labs were shut down, and new laws were implemented regarding the advancement of science and technology, making sure that safeguards were put in place.

  The world population had decreased by almost a third. Everyone had lost someone in the battle against the machines, whether GAP or cyborg, and many naturals had lost their lives in the mayhem.

  Eventually, life settled into a new normal. The walls around the GAP cities were torn down, and naturals bought the property and moved in. Much of Sol City became a bigger university campus. Students came there to learn. Ethics were a much bigger topic.

  Noah and I both became students there. I got my degree in political studies and worked for our local representative with every intention of running for office one day. Noah got a degree in religious studies and became a reverend, just like his father. His blog remained a watchdog for human rights and justice.

  We got married in a small ceremony at the church, and lived in his house in the suburbs of L.A. together with his younger brother, Davis. We’d invited Jonathon to stay, but he was an adult now and he wanted to live on his own. He’d rented a place with a couple friends not far from us, so we still saw him a lot.

  Skye visited regularly with her little girl, Ivy. She was so cute and sweet, and I knew she’d grow up in a world much different from the one I’d had. Simpler. Safer. Peaceful.

  Hopefully.

  I snuggled up to Noah on the new rocking chaise he’d made for the deck and we watched the sun go down. He squeezed my shoulder and kissed my head. “I’m still in love with you,” he said.

  I pressed a hand against his heart. “I’m still in love with you.”

  We watched as neighborhood kids rode past on their bikes. “How long do you think this will last?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You know, this calm. A world at peace.”

  He grinned playfully. “At least a thousand years.”

  I tilted my head, reaching to kiss him. “I hope you’re right.”

  The End

  I hope you enjoyed Contrition—I’d love it if you’d leave a review. They are so helpful to Indie Authors like me.

  If you’d like to be the first to know about new releases by Elle Strauss/Lee Strauss you can sign up for my newsletter. I promise not to spam you or give away your email address. I’ll only write when a there’s a new book or promotion.

  Thanks!

  Read on for an excerpt of my next book SUN & MOON, a contemporary romance.

  SUN & MOON will also be available as an enhanced e-book with embedded mp3 links of original music sung by the lead character Katja Stoltz, performed by Canadian Folk artist Kim McMechan.

  Planned release date: January 2014

  As Lee Strauss I write romance set in the past, present and future for upper YA and adult readers. I also write light and fun stuff under the name Elle Strauss. You can follow me on facebook, twitter, pinterest and wattpad by visiting me at www.ellestraussbooks.com .

  Other books by Lee Strauss
<
br />   Ambition (short story prequel to the Perception Series)

  Perception (book 1 of the Perception Series)

  Volition (book 2 of the Perception Series)

  Jars of Clay

  Broken Vessels (Jars of Clay Volume Two)

  Playing with Matches

  A Piece of Blue String (companion short story to Playing with

  Coming Soon

  Sun & Moon – a contemporary romance

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks goes out to Denise Jaden for her her fantastic beta reading chops and for being a great IRL friend; to Dale Pease for another fantastic cover; to Rhonda Helms and Jessica Moore for edits; to my lovely Indelible ladies, my Noble Girls, and my Facebook street team.

  Thanks so much to all my “fans” who’ve read my books. Thank you for your support and for helping to spread the word. You are absolutely the greatest!

  I couldn’t do any of this without the encouragement and support of my husband Norm, and my kids, Joel, Levi, Jordan and Tasia: you are my absolute joy!

  And as always, thank you to God, for all the blessings I enjoy each day.

  SUN & MOON

  by Lee Strauss

  She has a past. He has a secret.

  Katja’s a risk-taking singer-songwriter, hoping to make it in the indie music scene in Dresden, Germany. Micah’s a brooding uptown banker on a quest.

  There’s an undeniable attraction between them, a gravitational pull they both struggle to resist. Katja knows she mustn’t fall in love with this handsome enigma. There’s something dark lurking beneath the surface. He could be dangerous.

  And even if her life isn’t on the line, her heart most definitely is.

  Includes MP3 links to original music performed by Canadian Folk artist Kim McMechan.

  Today

  Katja poked a finger through the hole in the seam of her skirt. It ran to her ankles, three tiers of crimson fabric, like a gypsy would wear. It was made from soft, crumpled linen, the kind that never needed ironing. She’d found it in a cool little second-hand store on Alaunestrasse and had smiled when she realized she had just enough euro in her pocket to buy it.

  She took a deep breath and tugged. The seam ripped and she kept pulling, feeling the heat of anger and frustration build in her chest as the bottom two tiers of her skirt fell to the floor. Now her legs, long and lean, were adequately exposed.

  These were her tools, Irma had said. Rent was due tomorrow, and if she didn’t want to sleep behind a trash bin on the frost-covered streets, she’d better put those shapely legs and the rest of her youthful body to work. She had a nice face, Irma had said. She could make what she needed in one night if she played her cards right.

  Katja’s knees gave out, and she found herself curled up on the floor, gripping the red fabric, pushing it against her face. She pinched back tears that stung the back of her eyes. She had to be strong. She was strong. Women did this every day, and it wasn’t like she was going to make a career of it. It was no big deal. Right?

  Then why did her lungs feel like they were collapsing as she barreled down a dark abyss?

  Three Days Ago

  The sun shone like liquid yellow through the tall, east-facing windows creating the illusion that the early morning on a day in March was warm. Katja shifted on the lumpy sofa until her chilled body landed in its rays. Her wallet rested on her stomach as she counted her money again. She was short on the rent due in three days by twenty euros. She shoved the bills and coins back inside. Inhaling, she filled her lungs and stretched. Twenty euros wasn’t so much. She could make that by selling two CDs. She’d just head to Augustus Bridge later that day and busk again. Surely she’d get enough donations before the authorities shut her down for not having permission. One way or another, she told herself, she’d make enough to appease her roommates, and get to eat dinner, too.

  Look how lucky she’d been so far. The first thing she did when her train arrived in Neustadt, the new town area of Dresden, on a brisk January evening was head to the popular Blue Note Pub. She’d discovered the hangout online long before she left Berlin on a whim. A tingle of excitement had flared in her when she’d first read about it, and she’d felt something stir inside her that she hadn’t in a long time.

  Opportunity.

  She knew her kind of people would be found in a place like that, and she was right. She’d met Irma, who shared this two-bedroom flat with Martina, an art student. Irma offered Katja their sofa in exchange for a portion of the rent until she found her own place.

  It was small and cluttered, but artsy, with one wall painted turquoise blue, the other crimson red and another tangerine orange. Much of Martina’s artwork filled the space. The kitchen ran along the blue wall and included a well-used, hip-high white fridge and a small stove. Katja ran the calloused tips of her fingers along the thin, fraying upholstery of the sofa she slept on. It was part of the collection of mismatched living room pieces.

  Her tongue found the ring in her lip. Even though Irma had invited Katja, Martina had been less than thrilled by her presence, and gradually Irma had taken the same stance. Her roommates had grown increasingly impatient and unfriendly. Katja’s savings hadn’t lasted as long as she would’ve liked. A pit formed in her chest. She was running out of time. Even though Katja had done everything she could to stay as invisible as possible, she knew they wanted her gone.

  She’d find her own place next month. For sure.

  Katja sat up and eyed the blond Taylor guitar that rested in the corner. It was the only thing of value she owned. Martina had prodded her to sell it. It was worth enough to secure a month's rent somewhere else, but that would be like selling the cow when you lived off its milk. Her guitar was her ticket to freedom. Selling it was not an option.

  She just needed the right person to hear her play, to get one song picked up by someone famous. She just needed her break. You never knew how or when that would happen, Katja thought. She just couldn’t give up.

  She flipped through the pages of her notebook. Scribbled lyrics, observations and musings were framed with doodles of flowers and vines, butterflies and ladybugs—evidence of her mind when it was unleashed and unshackled. She read over the lyrics she’d written the day before.

  Close your eyes

  Try not to speak

  Forget the hours of your struggling

  Try to fix the trouble

  And pieces of your broken mind

  Think back to when you were a child

  And your heart was free and you were alive

  Her pen rested on her chin as her mind went back to those short, carefree days of long ago: before her father left her family and her mother’s job was simply to love and care for her, before her mother married that moron, Horst, and her little half-sister Sibylle came along.

  The pills her mother starting taking to cope allowed her to function sufficiently at work for a while, but she was fired a year ago and had spent most of the time since lying in the darkness of her bedroom. She couldn’t protect Katja anymore. She couldn’t take care of her. She didn’t even blink or try to talk Katja out of leaving when she told her she was going.

  Her friend Henni’s parents would’ve freaked out. They’d never let their precious daughter ruin her life by quitting school and chasing a fairytale.

  Katja was no one’s precious daughter. Except for God’s, if she’d let herself believe such a thing.

  She grabbed her Taylor, laid it across her lap and folded her arms around it like it was her baby. She strummed it and hummed and scribbled out a few more lines. She wrote in English. She always wrote her songs in English.

  The streets that you are travelling on

  They lead you far away from home

  And you don’t know where you’re going to…

  Not bad, she mused, then sang it from the beginning.

  “Do you mind?”

  Martina’s sharp voice snapped her out of the song. She stood across the room with hands on hips, and pinned K
atja with a glare. “It’s Saturday morning!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  “Didn’t realize the sun has barely risen?” Martina scoffed, and stomped back to her room, closing the door.

  Katja thought this would probably be a good time to slip out for a bit. She dressed quickly, pulled her long, honey-blond hair up in a messy bun and bundled up in her winter coat. She never went anywhere without her notebook and sketch pad. She tucked them into her shoulder bag before leaving.

  Her quick breaths shot out small white puffs in the cold air and she tightened the scarf she’d wrapped around her neck. The cobblestone streets of Neustadt were bustling with foot traffic despite the cold. She didn’t have a destination, and she didn’t have money to spend, so window shopping was the only kind of shopping she’d be doing. She just liked to wander and take in the sights, occasionally stopping to sketch. She added a couple doodles of street vendors to her collection, and sat on a bench in the park in front of Martin Luther Church for a while, sketching out the building’s gothic spire. She made a copy of the graffiti on the brick wall around the corner on the next road.

  After a while she passed the church near the center of town. It wasn’t a flamboyant stone church like the traditional ones, but merely rented shop space on the ground floor of an apartment building. The windows were often covered with graffiti-laden metal blinds, but today they were raised and everyone walking by could see inside. A young girl with straight, brown hair was playing guitar in the corner while hungry lunchtime visitors listened and waited for the soup to be served.

  Katja’s stomach growled. She had yet to eat today and wouldn’t mind a bowl of soup herself. From what she could hear through the door as it opened to let another homeless person in, the girl playing guitar was a pretty good musician and singer. Better than what she thought a place like this would provide.