by K. A. Trent
“It’s okay, they’re here to protect you.” Donna had caught me staring at them.
They’re here to protect you.
They’re here to protect you.
I heard it in my head again and again. A lie that was also the truth-- could one thing be both? My instincts screamed that it was a lie, but my mind knew that it was the truth. Donna had said it; it was the truth.
The tram came to a stop, finally. We filed off through the doors with the crowd; the police officers followed. Donna kept a firm grip on my hand as we left the platform and emerged onto the sidewalk, once again surrounded by buildings. She let go for a moment, allowing me to wander forward and peer through some of the shop windows; Carrie and Ashley joined me.
“I want a board like that,” Carrie remarked, pointing at the oval shaped object in the window.
“Please,” Ashley laughed. “You don’t surf.”
“It’s not for surfing,” Carrie corrected her. “You stand on it and paddle.”
“Well whatever it is, you don’t do it.”
I wanted to do it. It looked like fun.
“They have a whole club for it at Aeristas,” Carrie continued to inform her. “I can’t wait until I enroll next semester, I’m going to-”
“And leave me all alone at Miltern?”
“And here’s the guilt trip-”
“You know I’m teasing you, right?”
I moved away from them, walking down the sidewalk a bit but still making sure that I was within sight of Donna; I didn’t want to risk losing her, even though there were very few people around. Then it happened, all at once-- the loud crack overhead, the rising moisture in the air, and the torrent of water spraying down on us. The roar of the droplets splattering against hardcrete was nearly louder than the crack that had come from the sky. I felt the hairs on my head stand, my body tensed, my skin crawled, and then it came back.
I remembered it vividly, only a few months ago-- being herded into the spacious chamber, rusted water pipes clinging to the ceilings. We’d been led to posts protruding from the floor, six feet apart, ten of us to the room. I could feel my wrists burning, the way that the cuffs had torn into them. It was coming back-- I was there again. The water was freezing. I shivered, I squirmed, but there was no escape.
Their voices were crystal clear, the memory unfragmented: the buzzing of the correction rod colliding with the droplets, the pain inhabiting my body, nerve endings ablaze beneath my skin. The water amplified the effect by design; I felt as if I were on fire, the steel cuffs seared into my wrists. There were screams-- I think they came from me-- but they fell on deaf ears. My head rocked back, my eyes focused on the ceiling, on one of the rusted pipes clipped to the faded blue tile. The correction rod was withdrawn and I was allowed to recover for a brief moment. I’d dropped to my knees, bone slamming against sopping wet tile.
“I don’t think they’ve learned their lesson!” A far away voice shouted. “This is what happens to males that steal food! You get what you get, and if you try to take more, you get what you deserve!”
My breathing intensified and my chest rose and fell rapidly in front of me. I could feel my own tears intermixing with the frozen water from the showerhead. I wasn’t the only one-- all around me, other males screamed in agony. I saw an older male near me who had fallen just as I had, but he was in far worse shape. Burns had spread across his aged skin, his arms were bright red, and I could smell burning flesh in the air. Steam rose from the tile, cries and sobs permeated the air. My fists were clenched but all of the anger had left me, stamped out by the rubber soles making their circuit between us. I concentrated on the sound of the rubber hitting the tile, each footfall making a splash, displacing the liquid. I wanted it to be over so badly. I’d heard so many times, others telling me that one day the pain would end, that one day I would close my eyes and this place would be no more. I yearned for it now; I begged the air silently for the sweet embrace of what they had called death. I allowed myself to loosen my grip on my mortal existence.
Let it end, I said silently.
Please just let it end.
There was no end.
I was running. Running down the sidewalk, running away from Donna. I heard her calling out in the distance, calling my name, screaming after me, but it was so far away and the downpour was so loud. Rain. Rain, that’s what I thought it had been called. I wasn’t in the shower. I wasn’t being tortured.
I was outside: it was rain.
The streets were full of confused onlookers. I could see the officers beginning to give chase but they were no match for my speed, even with my ankles crossing and my constant stumbling. I finally managed to break into a full run, pushing through the downpour, making my way forward. Had to get out, I had to get out.
Around me, the droplets splattered against the hardcrete sidewalks. They spread across the ground, filling every crevice, spreading out across every crack; every droplet that hit my skin spread and covered my epidermis like an assault against my senses. It was encasing me, imprisoning me. I screamed and turned onto a narrow side street. I could feel it-- I could feel the electricity spreading across my skin, I could feel the cuffs encircling my wrists, I could feel my legs beginning to give way as I raced for a shelter I would never find.
A building, another building, a door, a glimpse of my reflection in an abandoned shop window. My hair was matted, my dress was soaked, clinging to my body. My foot struck a piece of debris and I toppled forward, my hands in front of me reaching desperately for nothing as I tumbled across the ground.
I lifted my head. My hair clung to my eyes, my arms were sprawled out in front of me, my legs were a tangled mess. All the while, the water began to pool around me, encasing, imprisoning, washing away the scourge that I had created upon this society through my mere existence. It was what I deserved, no doubt.
A pair of boots filled my vision, displacing the pooled water in front of me. I heard a voice, unfamiliar.
“We’ve got it,” the voice said. “I’m taking it back.”
My eyes lifted upward, up her legs, to her torso, finally resting upon her face. Black hair, blonde highlights-- it was the girl from the tram, the one that had been staring at me. She stepped to my side and I could feel her arms creeping beneath my shoulders, finally lifting me onto my knees and then onto my feet. I was helped forward, my torso slammed against a nearby wall. I felt my wrists pulled behind me, then tightly restrained with flex-cord.
I didn’t fight. I simply allowed her to lead me to a nearby lot, a blue car, and somehow felt peace when she pushed me into the back, securing the hatch and leaving me in complete darkness. Maybe this was the end. My mind drifted, my thoughts swam, and moments later, I was lulled into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 21
“You really do look like the real thing,” I heard her say as I opened my eyes. The girl was standing over me, her black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wore a denim jacket over a tight black shirt with a higher neckline than I’d seen most women wear. Her clothes were form-fitting, the black bird pin lay evenly on her lapel. “You don’t even look like you’re wearing makeup. Whoever did this is really good.”
“I did it,” I said softly, shifting my weight a little. My hands were still bound with the flex-cord; I was laying on a couch, like the one in Donna’s living room but a little more worn. My eyes traveled around the room a bit, taking in the bare concrete walls, the unevenly stacked crates in the corner, the black end table beside the couch, near my feet. There was a door but it was surely locked. A window allowed light, but it was barred.
“You have some skills then, don’t you?” she asked mockingly. I didn’t answer. Why was I here? Where was Donna? If only I hadn’t run-- I was so stupid.
“May I go home, please?” I asked. My voice was timid. I had asked the question even though I already knew the answer.
“What a weird question.” She smirked and stood away from me, placing her hands on her knees and bending a b
it. “You get kidnapped, and the first thing you ask is if you can go home. You even say please. They trained you like a dog because you are a dog. They trained you to look like a girl and sound like a girl, but you’ll never be a girl. You’re not one of us.”
Her words were crushing, but far from surprising. I looked up at her, my matted hair obscured my view of her, but just slightly. She was right. They were right. I wasn’t a girl, I was just an imposter.
The puppet that wanted to be a real girl.
“What are you going to do to me?” My lip quivered, I began to choke up. I didn’t want to be here-- I wanted to be with Donna. Why had I run away from her? How stupid was I?
“Honestly, I’m just waiting for instructions,” she told me, standing up and stepping across the room. “But why don’t I fill you in while we’re waiting. We need people to see that you are a male. You’ve upset the balance; you’re here playing pretend-- and we want everyone to know what you were all along.” She smirked, an evil glint in her eye. “What could be better than having you kill a whole bunch of innocent women?”
“I-I wouldn’t do that,” I shook my head. “No, I won’t do it. You’ll-you’ll have to kill me.”
“Oh honey, I will.” She laughed-- a bitter sound-- and turned to a holo screen set up on one of the nearby crates. “You’re going to die today, you’re going to take a lot of people with you, and you’re going to erase whatever it is Callie’s been trying to do.”
“Callie…” My voice caught in my throat. I struggled and pulled myself upright on the couch, my form still slouching. “You- you know Callie?”
“Who doesn’t know Callie after the stunt she pulled?” The girl manipulated the holo screen without looking back at me.
“She went to the Factorum, found you, made up this lie about you being transgendered or whatever, and then she parades you around like some kind of monument to our sins. Ereen needs to remain pure, there were transgendereds in the past, long ago, but not now. We worked it out of our genetics, we kept Ereen pure. We had strict citizenship standards. We used our knowledge of eugenics to purify anyone who came here from the outside. Now look what they’re doing to us. They want to talk about letting men live among us, they want to let you walk around like you are one of us. Disgusting.”
“I don’t care about any of that!” I shook my head. “I just- I just want to be me-”
“Yeah that’s the problem, you aren’t being you.”
On the holo screen, I saw a red circle appear, accompanied by a soft tone. I watched her press the spot on the screen and mouth the words to herself as she read a brief message. “You’re being someone else. You’re being what they tell you to be. Maybe you’re doing it on purpose, or maybe you’re just doing what they tell you. You should have left Ereen when you had the chance.”
Had the chance? What was she talking about? I racked my brain trying to figure you when I’d had the chance to leave Ereen.
“I- I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “I-I couldn’t leave- I- this is my home, and…”
Then it hit me, I finally understood. All of the things that Callie had said to me, what she’d been trying to push. Of course people didn’t know what the Factorum actually was. The thought it was that... made-up place. The one with the above-ground factories, where the quality of living was worth living. Suddenly it all made sense. If I told her, if she believed me, then maybe it would save my life. Maybe she would let me go. Maybe... No.
“Look I- I know how it looks,” I stammered. “I know why you feel this way but--”
“You know why we feel this way?” The girl suddenly slammed her fist down onto the container. It shook slightly, and I fell silent.
“Do you even understand what your kind did to us? Have you read the stories? Have you watched the testimonies? My ancestors came here from Earth and they were treated like slaves as soon as the ship was in the air. A generation of innocent women victimized, tortured, treated like cattle, and now you want to sit there and tell me you understand? You’re disgusting. Males need to stay off of Ereen or in the Factorum where they belong. The Black Swan will make sure disgusting... Things like you stay out of our society, where you belong.” The way the words spat out of her mouth conveyed her rage.
I knew that she was going to kill me. I was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it. I struggled uselessly against the flex-cord binding my wrists, but even if I did manage to free myself, what could I do?
“What’s um... What’s your name?” I asked, as if it would help me. She looked back at me and cocked her head a little.
“Trying to get familiar with me?” She studied me for a moment. “It’s not going to help you.”
“I know,” I nodded.
“Then why?”
“It’s... It’s nothing,” I turned my head away and closed my eyes.
“Nah, I have a few minutes,” she laughed. “This should be good. Why do you want to know my name? Come on, buy yourself a few more minutes.”
“Things... are different here than they are in the Factorum,” I took a deep breath and managed to get myself into a sitting position. “It’s just... I want to get to know people. We didn’t do that in the Factorum, and I-I experienced so much in the short time I’ve been out. I... guess... I guess they call it love, and I want to experience so much more of it and-”
“Enough,” she snapped. “So they trained you to tug at the heart strings too. Adorable.”
“Please.” I was begging now. I should have been ashamed, but at this point it was part of my nature. “Please just... Let me go home. I’m not trying to hurt you or hurt Ereen. I just... Please, I want to live.”
“Not getting attached are you, Layla?” The door to the room opened, and another woman stepped through. She was a little taller than the first girl who I now knew to be ‘Layla’. She had shorter hair and was built thinner. She wore a gray tank top with thin straps, a pair of blue jeans, and carried a black bag, which she set down on the end table next to my bracelet. “I brought food, what are you in the mood for: black rice or celda salad?”
“Give me some of that rice,” Layla reached out and took what looked like a cardboard container. “You know I’m all about rice.”
“Got an egg roll for the little shit here,” the new woman gestured to me and reached into the bag. She waved a round cylindrical object in front of me; I wasn’t sure what it was, I only knew that it was food.
I was hungry-- really hungry-- and I hadn’t realized it before now. I was starting to realize that I’d gotten used to having food when I needed it- something that just wasn’t a reality in the Factorum.
“Do you want it?” she asked me mockingly. I nodded. She held it out to me. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take it with my hands bound, but she suddenly tossed it to the floor. “Get down there and eat it.”
I looked down at the piece of food now laying on the floor just a few inches from her feet. I was hungry-- indescribably hungry-- but I couldn’t do it. I looked at her and contemplated the flex-cord digging into my wrists, my uncomfortable position on the couch, and my impending doom. No, none of it mattered.
“No,” my voice cracked; she stared at me intently. “No, I won’t do it.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” She took a bite of her salad and grinned at me. “I bet you’re used to eating off the floor. You are just an animal.”
I stared obstinately at her. She took another bite of salad; I looked over to Layla, who was looking at me with more confusion than anything.
“A- a woman of Ereen doesn’t eat off the floor.” I recited a line I’d read from a textbook that Kerra had given me. I wished that she were here now. She’d taught me so much. Callie had been so kind-- Donna. I missed Donna with all my heart. I wished I could see them all one last time, but the best I could do now was be the woman that they had taught me to be. So I glared at the woman, set my jaw, and sat up as straight as possible. My jaw was set, and her glare in return was telling.
&
nbsp; I kept my composure as she set the salad down on the floor beside her chair and watched her stand. With a single swift motion, she dug her nails into the back of my dress and dragged me forward off of the couch. I was thrown to the floor, my chest catching the hardcrete first, my face following. I heard Layla gasp.
“Greta what are you doing?!” she exclaimed.
“Our job,” Greta snapped at Layla, then redirected her attention to me.
“Eat the egg roll. Put your face in it and eat it.”
I tried to concentrate on everything but the growing hunger pangs in my stomach. The pain radiating through my face, the feel of cold concrete against my skin, her hand against the back of my head. Nails digging into my scalp. I kept my mouth closed as she continued to push my face into the egg roll.
It smushed, it broke, I squeezed my eyes shut.
Finally, she released her grip on the back of my head and I dropped onto my side.
“Layla, get the toolbox.” Greta’s voice seemed muffed with my left ear pressed to the crete.
“What, why?!” Layla’s voice sounded frantic, confused, panicked, even.
“Whatever, I’ll do it myself.” Greta stood and stepped away from me.
“We’re supposed to kill him, not torture him!”
“Not much of a difference.”
I felt myself being hoisted back onto the couch and gasped as I was dropped back down onto the cushion. “We just need it to have a recognizable face for the broadcast.”
“Look, I’m okay with killing h- it... but I’m not okay with torture. This is wrong!”