by Ramona Finn
Our tech, once it was integrated, was basically an external arm of our brains. We used our tech for all manner of thinking and analyzing and decision making (and culling, of course). And here I was, palm to cool crystal tech, holding Dahn in place.
Don’t go. I told him in my head, my tech to his.
He was still frozen and only halfway facing me. His eyes were open, but focused inward, and I could practically hear the panicked whir of his thoughts. I knew that he was creating that same inner roadmap that I’d just created in my own head. I could only hope that the destination was the same.
I can’t tell you more, Dahn. But I promise that I’m not going to get you executed. You have to trust me to keep you safe.
His eyes found mine then, silver to black, and I imagined a line of energy between us, bright and beating. I felt like I’d never seen him before, even as my hand tightened around his tech. Who was this man in front of me? It hit me, all at once, how much we’d both aged since we’d first met. We weren’t those kids anymore, the ones we’d once been. Those young Datapoint trainees still reeling from the integration process.
I could see him warring with himself. With me. He wanted to be good. To be the best. To be Haven’s golden child. But he also wanted me to not be dead.
I couldn’t tell which side was winning.
On a whim, I switched my grip on Dahn. Before he could move away, I did what we’d done just a handful of times before, and only ever with one another. I clacked my tech against his. Arm on arm. Instead of pulling it away, though, I let it rest there.
The feeling was the strangest one I’d ever had. More intense than any other time when we’d done this before. I realized, with a lurch in my gut, that the comm Kupier had given me was laying on my bed right now; it wasn’t secretly lining my tech like usual. It was gone. My tech was just me. This was the first time I’d ever touched Dahn like this without the comm between our tech. Without Kupier between us.
I could feel something shivery and cloudy and pulsing coming from Dahn’s tech, and I wondered if he felt the same from me. I wondered if touching like this gave us access to some internal workings of each other’s brains. Were those Dahn’s feelings that were like ethereal, charged fingers reaching out to me? Was this his interior life, naked and laid out? Could he feel the same thing coming from me?
With a strangled gasp, he pulled back, severing the connection but still towering over me where I sat.
Don’t— he said through his tech.
He took a deep breath then and slammed his eyes closed. “Give me one reason, Glade. One reason why I shouldn’t turn your ass in exactly like you deserve.”
That strange, vulnerable pulse of his emotions was all over me, sparking and crackling like a storm moving over the surface of a planet.
I’d pulled out all the stops, and he wasn’t convinced. But I refused, refused, to tell him what was going on. If he knew, then he’d only be faced with the same horrible dilemmas that I had been dealing with on my own. Dahn’s entire life was built around an unfailing fidelity to the Authority. Either he’d dismiss my claims as lies and turn me in, or he’d believe me and his life would crumble at his feet. I couldn’t find it in me to make him deal with either alternative. I had to find some way to keep him from going to Haven without telling him anything more.
I rose up from my bed and our knees bumped.
His eyebrows drew up in confusion and he started to sway back from me, but my hands shot out and grabbed at the collar of his black T-shirt. I rose up on my toes at the same second I tugged him forward. Our lips touched.
His mouth was firm and unmoving and he smelled clean and warm. I didn’t deepen the kiss, but I didn’t pull away, either. I just kissed him, clutching his shirt and realizing something that probably should have occurred to me a long time ago. I really loved this man. This human man in front of me who’d been with me since I’d first come to the Station. Who’d come with me to bury my mother. Who had protected me from Sullia. Who hadn’t turned from me even though he’d been suspicious of my motives. Who was, I could suddenly feel in my bones, going to keep this secret for me.
I’d only ever really loved my family before. And this was a different kind of love. But it was just as simple and obvious. Warmth washed through me.
I pulled back and immediately sought those familiar, handsome eyes. I realized, with a strange little jolt, that his eyes weren’t actually silver like I’d thought all these years. They were the lightest, grayest green.
The order of operations for how I characterized Dahn in my head suddenly shifted dramatically. Everything re-ordered and tumbled, scrambling for a place on the list. And as his pupils dilated and his breath whooshed out in a torn, panting wave, I realized that I thought of him like this:
Human.
Man.
Friend.
Then Datapoint.
He wasn’t a machine with silver eyes and a computer for a brain. No. He was a human, just like me. He had green eyes and integrated tech and warm blood and as many hidden emotions as the rest of us poor souls who’d been mined from the moon colonies for this program.
A truth, hidden in plain sight, sifted down onto me. Datapoints weren’t chosen because they didn’t have emotions. No, they were chosen because they didn’t understand their emotions.
I reached up once more and pressed my lips to his again. This time, he tipped his head down just a touch and the kiss was a little softer than the one before it had been.
I took a deep breath and a step back, the backs of my legs hitting my bed. My hands unwound from his shirt. I stared up at him, palms up. His face was relaxed and confused all at once, and his mouth came slightly open and those razorblades he called eyes were suddenly all over my face, touching every part of it.
“I swear that I won’t get you killed, Dahn. But if you go and tell right now, you’re definitely gonna get me killed.”
He blinked fast. When he stopped, he seemed to have come back into himself just a little bit.
He took a step away from me and then another. From this distance, his eyes had gone silvery again.
His hands were shaking at his sides.
“Dahn—”
He turned, saying nothing, and strode from the room.
Dahn made it back to his room on two legs that felt filled with mud. They were as heavy and unsteady as his heartbeat. He slammed his door behind him and strode to his bed. It was hours earlier than he usually went to bed, but he knew he couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t do anything right now besides lay in the dark and wonder how he’d tanked his life so badly.
He’d gone from the number one Datapoint on the Station to a distant number two. Haven merely tolerated Dahn’s presence because of his proximity to Glade.
He chuckled humorlessly into the dark of his room as he pulled the curtain on his bed closed and clenched his eyes shut tight.
He was certain that Haven thought Dahn had some ability to control Glade. Haven thought that there was a mystical connection between them, and was using Dahn like a puppet, hoping that Dahn could in turn use Glade like a puppet.
That sharp, painful laugh sounded out into the darkness again. What a joke. Glade was using both of them like puppets; Haven would eventually realize that, just as Dahn had.
There was no controlling Glade Io. No predicting her. No knowing her. She did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to do it. The image of her face pressed so close to his slammed through him and Dahn rolled over to face the wall as if a spasm had passed through his muscles. She’d closed her eyes so tightly when she’d kissed him.
The kiss from hell. Torturous in its simplicity.
Why. Why. WHY? Why had she done that? Had it been a show of loyalty? Friendship? Did she desire him?
Was it romantic?
The kiss had been chaste enough. Except for the fact that it had been a kiss. And they had never done anything remotely like that.
Dahn felt off kilter and highspeed. He always made choices
in his life based on logic and strategy, but Glade’s involvement in anything seemed to ensure that he was just flying by the seat of his pants. Like always. She’d always thrown everything off for him.
He was sick of it. And he was exhausted and confused.
And he wished she were here right now. Sitting right here. He still wanted to know her secrets, and he hated her for it. Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? Get out of his head and leave him the hell alone?
Finally, he fell asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, he was surprised that he’d slept well, the whole night through.
He shoved thoughts of Glade from his head as he grabbed his towel and soap and headed toward the bathrooms. When he pulled open his door, though, something waited for him on the other side.
Dahn knelt and picked up the gaming device. He clicked it on. She’d solved the puzzle he’d left for her. And she’d left him one in return.
It was then that he knew. He knew it wholly and completely. From the front to the back. The same feeling washed over him as when he finally finished a book, and understood the whole story. There were no more stones left to turn over. He wasn’t going to let himself hide behind the prospect of the future anymore. No, he didn’t know what was going to happen with Glade in the future. He didn’t know if she’d ever lean up and kiss him again. All he could know was his own choices. He’d been vulnerable and weak because he hadn’t yet made those choices.
But he had now.
He wasn’t going to turn her in. But he wasn’t going to solve her, either.
Without hesitating, Dahn strode over to the nearest trash chute and chucked the gaming device inside. He waited until he heard it crunch below. Dahn tapped the button next to the chute and he listened as the trash compactor clicked on, crushing it to oblivion.
Dahn turned on his heel and marched to the showers then. Where he thought of nothing but the day ahead of him.
Chapter Eight
I didn’t sleep at all. Maybe a spastic two hours in total. I’d considered hauling my ass out of bed and searching for my mother, but I knew how suspicious it would be if I got caught wandering around in the middle of the night. I was already on thin ice with Dahn.
Ugh. Dahn.
My brilliant idea of kissing him had completely backfired on me.
I’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling. I hated feelings. They were confusing and pointless and, frankly, they were being real assholes right now.
The truth was, I loved him. Not as much as I loved my sisters, but it was enough for me to know that I felt any amount of love at all. Datapoints, we were all told over and over again, were not susceptible to loving people. Sure, our trainers had all conceded, families were different. Humans were genetically pre-disposed to love our families. But Datapoints weren’t supposed to love anybody else.
And here I was. Loving Dahn.
Maybe I was never supposed to be a Datapoint. Because, so far, I’d never successfully culled anyone, and I was all fraught with feelings. And, oh yeah, I was plotting to overthrow the Authority. That was a list of no-no’s if I ever I’d seen one.
Still, with no way to come to any real conclusion about us, I forced thoughts of Dahn from my head. He meant a great deal to me, sure, but I had to weigh the outcomes of all the sticky situations I was currently involved in. Dahn had the power to turn me in and have me executed or tortured. But did I think he was going to do that? Probably not. On the other hand, there was evidence that Haven had a bomb pointing at Charon. Did I think he was going to fire it? Probably, yes. I had to choose where to put my emotional and intellectual energy. And I chose to focus it on the fate of an entire colony. Rebel or not.
When I dragged my leaden legs out of bed at 5 a.m., it wasn’t because I was ready to get up for the day. It was because I needed to find my mother.
My stomach twisted in about ten different directions and I clutched the small figurine of a horse that Dahn had given me, but I shoved it into my pocket the second I got into the main hallway.
When I found my mother, and showed her the tablet that was currently strapped to my back, we’d be on our way. Whatever the Ferrymen’s plan for getting us off this Station was, we’d be in the middle of it. And I’d be leaving it all behind. Goodbye, brown walls. Goodbye, chrome everything. Goodbye, Haven, you bastard.
I stumbled a little as I thought the next part. Goodbye, Cast. Goodbye, Dahn.
Unless… was there a way to take them with me?
No. Even if I were able to subdue Dahn long enough to kidnap him out of the Station, he’d wake up a traitor to the Authority and burn the whole place down. Wherever we were. He’d never, in a million years, throw in his lot with Ferrymen. Luce, Kupier’s older brother, had killed Dahn’s father, after all. Dahn would never come with me. No matter how much evidence I had that the Authority was planning horrible things, that wouldn’t happen. He might one day defect, but never to the side of the Ferrymen.
The only thing I could do was get my ass out of dodge and hope I could protect him from the outside. I’d attempt to cut the head off the dragon—the Database—and pray that that meant the Authority couldn’t take any more lives with the Culling.
It was closer to 5:30 now and the Station was beginning to wake up. I could hear the distant clanging in the kitchens, and the fluorescent lights we used to simulate daylight were beginning to flicker on. I could see some of the Station staff scuttling here and there, too, getting everything ready for the day.
I’d seen my mother over in the wing of the youngest Datapoints this early in the morning in the past. So, that’s where I headed. Most of their bunk room doors were still closed, and I didn’t see a single sign of my mother.
I tried the next wing. The slightly older Datapoints. Nope. She wasn’t there, either. Though, I did start to hear the showers running as I moved down the halls.
I knew that more and more people were waking up as every moment passed, and finding her was about to get a little more complicated. Even though I’d been keeping my eye out for my mother since our first conversation, it would be hard to spot her in a crowd. The techs’ uniforms were designed to blend in with the Station, and there were so many of them. I’d often think I’d spotted her only to realize that it wasn’t her at all.
But today I was determined.
It was around 8 a.m. when I got that prickly feeling that I’d come to associate with being watched by Sullia. Well, what did I care? Let her watch. With any luck, by tonight, my mother and I would be the hell off this Station and back in the hands of the Ferrymen.
I ignored both the whoop of joy and the grind of sadness in my gut at the thought of that. This was bigger than me, I reminded myself. This wasn’t about my individual preferences. This was about the lives of innocent citizens all across the solar system. And, besides that, apparently I wasn’t any good at figuring out my preferences anyways.
I thought of Dahn and winced. I thought of Kupier and winced.
At 9 a.m., there was still no sign of my mother, and I was starving. I headed into the dining hall. The creepy, watched feeling was getting worse, so as I grabbed my tray of food in one hand, I flicked off Sullia behind me with the other hand. I didn’t know where she was watching from, but I knew she was watching. And screw her anyways.
I’d just plunked down with my tray, one eye on the perimeters of the hall, looking for my mother, when Cast slid into the seat next to me.
I greeted him and then did a huge double-take.
He looked terrible.
“Cast! What happened to you?”
“Oh…” He waved his hand like it was nothing, but his eyes were sunken and purple underneath. His hair, though washed, hung into his face. He wasn’t eating, either, and honestly, he looked… dead. “I just had to go through the preliminary steps for the new training protocol yesterday, and it was, ah, a little harder than I’d thought it would be.”
I turned my full attention to him and started
taking up the best part of my breakfast, the potatoes, and putting it on his tray. He stared at my hands as if he wasn’t even noticing what I was doing.
“Tell me about it.”
Cast looked over at me, something almost wary in his eyes. “I… don’t want to speak badly about it, Glade.”
I realized, like a slap to the face, what he was really saying. He didn’t want to talk badly about it to me. Me, Haven’s walking, talking right arm, who was part of the force that was inflicting this new protocol on Datapoints in the first place. I wished there was a way to tell him that I was his ally without sounding like a dissenter.
“Cast, we’re still figuring out the best way to implement this new training, so if there’s something wrong, I should really know.”
He considered me for a second, before shrugging. He looked like he felt nothing really mattered. All the light was gone from his eyes. Cast had never been a typical robotic Datapoint—he’d always had a little extra energy, excitement, and fun. I didn’t like seeing him like this.
“It’s just different, you know? Culling the way we were taught, originally? That… wasn’t quite so hard. You know, it was just like finding all the cullables, as many as you could, and flicking the lights off. But this way—”
His voice cut off and his fingertips pressed hard into his forehead, wrinkling his skin. For a moment, he looked so much older than fifteen. He looked like he would in a decade or two. And he looked tired.
“This way…” I prompted.
“This way, we’re culling people face to face. One by one. And when you’re reading their brainwaves from that close, well, you start to see little discrepancies.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we all know what a cullable brain pattern looks like. What shapes the violent and the murderous’ brainwaves make. But when you’re culling as fast and as many as you can, like we were taught to do, you look for the general shapes. Not the specifics. But when you cull individuals, you start to see the subtle differences. Everyone’s brainwaves are different. Even if they’re violent and murderous. They’re still…”