“I don’t understand.” 00 screwed up his face.
Sunny gestured to the flat, sharp angles of her body. “Can’t you see? They took everything from me. They took the parts from me that make me whole. All the parts I need to carry a child are gone. I’m empty. Fruitless. A desert wrapped in skin.”
“That’s impossible! Inhuman!” Blue slammed his hand down on the table, lunging halfway out of his seat. “How could they do that to you? To anyone?”
Sunny gave Blue a bitter smile. She tilted her head and shifted her eyes to Blue’s. “Because to them, we’re not human. We’re the spawn of clones. The devices of Curie. They only allow us to live so they can better their understanding of themselves.”
“So, the Oosa aren’t clones?” 62’s mind was reeling. “Then what are they?”
“They’re imperfect,” Sunny said in a low, dangerous voice. “Something has happened to them, and they need Curie to save them. They’re broken, and they think that somewhere in our bodies is the code that will fix them.”
CHAPTER 6
Sunny retreated to her room after telling the Boys her story. Blue followed quietly behind so he’d know where to check on her later. She hadn’t emerged from her room since. Now, evening was falling again, and the Boys were still so bewildered by her revelations, that they hadn’t made any progress on getting settled. 62 couldn’t stop wondering why so much of the world was intent on harming others.
He’d never been through anything nearly as brutal as Sunny had, but he was no stranger to doctors with ulterior motives. Back when he’d been a little kid in Adaline, a doctor plugged him into a Machine. He wanted to try to zap 62’s brain to get rid of his dreams. And later, a Man from Adaline’s defense group hooked him up to a device to use those same dreams to track down other dreamers. A wave of angry sadness overcame 62 as he realized that the people and programs in charge of their lives were intent on fixing people by changing who they were. But while mixing up a child’s insides was unconscionable, taking parts of a person’s body to try to fix someone else? That was pure madness.
Blue, who had known Sunny before she’d been taken by the Oosa, was hit the hardest by her story. He paced the halls, alternating between muttering to himself and shouting into the echoing building that he’d make the Oosa pay for what they’d done. There were no breaks in his ranting, except for the occasional hike up to the third floor to check on Sunny. Each time he’d gone up, he’d taken her something to eat or drink, only to return with the same food or cup of cider. Then, he’d start his tirade anew, distraught that the Oosa had damaged Sunny so wholly that she refused to eat or drink.
00 withdrew as well, tucking himself away in a corner with a computer manual that Mattie had packed for them. He rarely turned a page, though. Just stared at the same diagram for ages, mumbling that none of it made sense. 62 was sure 00 knew more about computers than anyone else outside of Adaline, so he couldn’t have been confused by the manual. It was more likely that his thoughts were with Sunny and the Oosa.
“We have to find out more about them,” 62 said aloud to himself. Blue was in the main lobby waving his fists in the air, and 00 was on the other end of the cafeteria with his book, so no one heard his statement. But he knew it was true. They had to find out why the Oosa would hurt the Women of Hanford, and discover a way to stop them. But he had no idea where to start.
62 walked over to the corner where 00 rested with the book across his knees. “We have to do something,” 62 announced.
00’s eyes trailed up from the book, slowly resting on 62. “Something about what?”
“About Sunny. The Oosa. Adaline. All of it.”
00 brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “I don’t know what we can do. We haven’t even found out what happened to all the dreamers in Adaline yet. And now there’s all this. It’s too much, 62. There’s nothing a couple of dumb clones can do.”
“You’re right. It’s too much.” 62 dragged a chair closer to where his friend sat and slouched down in it. “But we can’t do nothing. I mean, it’s all so wrong.”
“We were going to hook up N302 and see if it could duplicate itself. But now that seems pointless. What would we even do with it if it worked? It’s illegal technology and a waste of time. I want to stop thinking about the dumb bot and do something useful instead. But I don’t know what to do to help.” 00 looked down at the open pages on his lap and sighed.
Blue marched into the room, his jaw set in determination. 62 raised his hand in a half-hearted wave, then dropped it again when he realized no greeting was coming from the bitter Boy with blue eyes. “We were just talking about how useless this all is,” 62 explained. “Setting up a computer is pointless now. We’ve got to find a way to help Sunny instead.”
“Building the bot is exactly what we’re going to do,” Blue declared. “N302’s a programmed Nurse, right? Set up to help the doc fix people underground?”
“Yeah,” 00 answered with a confused nod.
“Well, we’re going to use it to help Sunny.”
“What?” 62 raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have doctors here.”
Blue put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “You’re right. We don’t have doctors. But N302 is a blasted medical bot for crying out loud. It can tell us what to do. And if we can’t figure out how to follow its instructions, maybe it can help us think of some other way to help Sunny.”
00 nodded slowly. “That might work. But we’d have to tell her about the computer first, and ask if she’s okay with us using it. If we just start poking at her, she’s going to know something’s up. And with as upset as she’s been since we got here, I don’t want to surprise her with anything.”
“When should we talk to her? Now?” 62 asked.
“I don’t think so,” Blue said. His whole face deepened with his frown. “She’s been through too much today. Let’s talk to her tomorrow.”
“I wish Mattie was here to help,” 00 said. “She may not be the nicest Girl, but she’s still a Girl all the same. She might know how to talk to her own kind better than us.”
“Her own kind?” 62 blurted out with an involuntary snort. “She’s a Girl, not a coyote.”
Blue squinted his eyes and scowled. “You know what I mean.”
“I haven’t been able to dream with her since we left,” 62 complained. He looked at his friends. “But, I can keep trying. If I end up sharing a dream with her, should I tell her everything?”
Blue shook his head. “She’s not going to like hearing what the Oosa did to Sunny. I mean, you know how much she wants to go live with them when she’s old enough. No, I don’t think telling her everything in a dream is a great idea. Crushing people’s lifelong wishes is something you should do in person, you know?”
“Fair enough. Do you think there’s a less traumatic way to tell her why Sunny’s here and how badly she needs help?”
Blue and 00 considered the question. 00 was the first to pipe up. “I don’t think so. We need her to know Sunny’s here, so she can help us figure out how to talk to her without making her cry all the time.”
“True,” Blue agreed. “We need all the help we can get. But, don’t tell her too much about the Oosa stuff. Just explain that Sunny escaped from them and came up here to hide. Make sure she knows that Sunny being here is a secret, and she’s not to tell anyone else. The last thing we need is for some hateful guard like Joan to be sent by the council to check on her.”
“What about Parker?” The air went silent at 62’s question. “He’ll be furious if he finds out that she’s been found and no one told him.”
“Fine. Mattie and Parker. But no one else, alright? This all has to stay a secret until Sunny is ready to tell the council about what happened.” Blue sighed. “If she’s ever ready.”
62 stood up, causing the chair to scrape noisily across the smooth floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I guess I’m going to get ready for bed then.”
00 craned his neck to look a
t the barred windows at the far end of the cafeteria. “It’s not dark yet. Mattie won’t be asleep for a while.”
“True,” 62 admitted. “But last night I didn’t get to sleep until the moon was so high I couldn’t see it out my window anymore. And with everything that’s gone on today, I don’t think I’ll be able to dive right into a dream. May as well start staring at the ceiling early and get it out of the way.”
62 bid his friends goodnight, then tromped through the building toward his room. He was too distracted to care about manners, and let each door he passed through slam closed behind him. His footfalls were heavy on the stairs, echoing with the sound of a thousand steps in the stairwell. There was no point in being quiet. No reason to be polite. Nobody would hear his angry trampling except two clones and a broken Woman trying to escape her past.
62 stopped dead in his tracks. Sunny was desperate to escape the doctor that haunted her. 62 had been doing the same thing since leaving Adaline. His eyes glazed over, and his shoulders drooped. Tears welled in his eyes and flowed in hot rivers down his cheeks. Maybe he and Sunny weren’t so different after all.
CHAPTER 7
62 covered his bedroom window with a blanket pilfered from another room. He planned on using it as a makeshift curtain, blotting out light from outside. He was pleased to discover the blanket was wide enough to tuck around the curved bars encasing the window, keeping all but a thin shaft of sunlight from entering the room. His makeshift window covering complete, he put on pajamas and crawled into bed. The blankets enveloped him in a warm cocoon, and he wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands as he relaxed into the comfort of the bed. He settled into the warmth of the bedsheets, and then, his eyes flicked open and he stared into the dim twilight of his room.
Despite his intense desire to fall asleep so he could search for Mattie in his dreams, 62 was inexplicably awake. He felt his limbs twitch beneath the soft covers and the discomfort of his wiggling muscles caused him to roll to one side, and then the other, as he tried to find a place where his body would be still. Time seemed to creep forward while 62 tossed and turned. Finally, he gave up his hunt for dreams.
Pushing the covers back, 62 sat up in bed and pressed his hands into the mattress. He hated nights like this, when sleep refused to come. He groaned in frustration, then pushed himself out of the bed and flicked on the overhead light. In the closet, hidden under a pile of clothes, was a book that Blue had packed for 62 during his exile from Hanford. Mattie said it was a book for small children, but 62 loved it anyway. He pulled the book from its hiding place and turned the cover over in his hands. Although Mattie, who took care of the library back in Hanford, had given him all the books he could ever hope to read, Charlotte’s Web was his favorite book in all the world.
62 left the light on as he crawled back into bed with his book. He’d read Charlotte’s Web dozens of times, and had most of it memorized. 62 didn’t bother starting at the beginning. Instead, he let the book fall open in his lap and started reading in the middle of the story. He read ten pages, then thirty, and soon he’d lost count of the pages he’d turned. It wasn’t until Wilbur was going to the county fair that 62’s eyelids began to feel heavy and he set the book on the floor beside the bed. He got up briefly to shut out the light, then swaddled himself in the blankets once more. He rolled over on the mattress and drifted into sleep.
Dreams didn’t come immediately, and 62 didn’t know how long he’d been slumbering before he felt the world around him shift. He found himself sitting on a chair in the smaller of Hanford’s two cafeterias, the one reserved for Adaline refugees. The division of the cafeterias was only a small taste of the separation that he and the other clones experienced while living in Hanford. Their housing was separate, their schooling, even the food they ate.
62 looked around him. The cafeteria was an eerie gray, void of the color of everyday life. And although the refugee cafeteria was rarely bustling, in the dream it was completely empty. 62 got up and trailed a hand along the backs of the chairs as he made his way to the food counter. Rows and rows of abandoned bowls and trays rested on the countertop, as if they were waiting to be filled by some unseen hand. Although he’d need a mask to explore outside if he were awake, 62 passed through the door in his dream without any fear of the dust traveling on the wind outside.
Here, too, the world was gray. The air was still and silent. 62 closed his eyes, willing Hanford’s population to appear, but when he opened them, the streets were still as barren as before. He tried to make people appear a second time, and then a third, and when nothing happened, he frowned in disappointment. Controlling dreams was something that he’d practiced frequently when he was younger, but his grasp of it had faded since leaving Adaline. After learning how dangerous the dreams could be for him and his friends, he’d stopped trying so hard to have them. He’d had a brief resurgence in his desire to dream after he discovered Mattie was also a dreamer, but then Hanford had thrown him out and turned him off the idea of dreams again. Now, he wanted control of his dreams back, but was discovering it wasn’t as easy as simply wishing them into existence.
62 shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking in the direction of the library. As he walked, he focused on the dilapidated building, imagining its crumbling façade and rusted doorway. This time, the use of his mind worked, and rather than having to trudge his way through the entire desolate town, a grayscale visage of the library appeared before him. 62 climbed the stairs, drawing his hand from his pocket only once he was within arm’s reach of the door. He opened it and went inside, expecting to see the warm candlelight flickering within.
The library was dark. 62 focused on the candle’s wicks and several of them burst to life. What little light they cast showed 62 a new horror; the library’s shelves were empty. 62 searched the aisles, and shelf after shelf showed itself to be bare. Not a single book rested among the racks. Mattie was nowhere to be found. 62 explored the back of the library, checking the book repair room where they had stored N302. That room, too, was empty. All the stacks of tattered books, tools, and spare computer parts were gone.
“What happened?” 62 said aloud. He paused, waiting for some phantom in his mind to answer, but no reply came. It was as if his mind was blotting out the home he once hoped would be his, stealing the comfort of its details just to spite him. 62 returned to the main room of the library, righted an overturned chair, and plopped himself down in it. He put both hands in front of him, palms up, closed his eyes, and imagined his secret journal and the pencil that he used to write in it. He waited for their weight to fill his hands, but they never came. He opened his eyes and looked at the bare skin of his palms, wrinkled his brow, and then tried again. Still, nothing.
He dropped his hands to his lap, deciding to try something different entirely. He thought of his dear friend, 71, the Man who had taught him to harness his dreams from the very beginning. He hadn’t tried to contact his old teacher in weeks. The last time he’d connected with 71, he’d been captured by the people in Adaline who wanted to snuff out creative thought. But now, 62 felt like he had little to lose if 71 felt his presence again. He thought of the old Man, standing in front of a classroom, laughing and prodding his students to find pleasure in the mundane topics they were forced to learn. He could imagine every detail, from the long snow-colored beard to the twinkle of his brown eyes.
A pinprick of white light appeared before 62. He rose from his seat, moved toward it, and pressed his hand against it, willing it to expand so that he could look inside. The white light twinkled, its light fading in and out of his vision, and then instead of expanding the way he’d expected, it fizzled out, leaving a thin wisp of smoke dissipating in the air.
62 let loose a growl of frustration that shook the empty bookshelves and made the air around him shudder. Anger rose up inside him, a fire that burned his very soul. He thought about his failure to control the dream and the flame spread beneath his feet. It spread over the floor, reached the library’s fixtures,
and climbed the walls until the entire building was engulfed. The ceiling caught fire and began to crumble. As the ceiling began to open, the walls groaned and fell around him. 62 marveled that the flames didn’t hurt. The inferno was a part of him, destroying the blank shell of Hanford that he’d imagined. His voice roared over the fire, and the flames spread even farther. Soon, every building in sight burned, and the sky was nothing more than a pillow of black smoke.
62 closed his eyes to the blaze consuming the world around him. He hugged his arms close and began to cry. His tears evaporated from the heat of the air, sizzling out of existence the second they landed on his cheeks. He wailed, long and loud, his strained voice ringing in his ears. The heat of his anger fed the burning world around him, causing it to roar with smoldering coals after the last of the buildings had burned to ash. The weight of his failure pressed him down into the melting land. Thoughts of Sunny’s pain, Parker’s grief, and 71 and 42’s disappearances weighted him to the spot. He couldn’t save any of them. Couldn’t even dream of protecting them. Hardly could dream at all, it seemed. 62 curled into a ball, fell to his side, and allowed the flames of despair to consume him.
62 opened one bleary eye beneath the covers. His throat was raw from crying in his sleep, and his pillow was wet with tears. 62 pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets to stay the flow of tears. In Adaline, a Nurse would be here with sleep-spray to calm him. In Hanford, his neighbors would’ve arrived to check on him to see what was wrong. But here, in the nearly empty jailhouse, 62 suffered the aftermath of his nightmare alone.
CHAPTER 8
62 shuffled downstairs in a groggy stupor. The last nightmare he’d had consumed his thoughts all night, and he’d hardly gotten another wink of sleep. His exhaustion was amplified by 00’s devastating cheerfulness.
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