Gen One

by Amy Bartelloni

  He tipped his head, reading her face. She pursed her lips, hating he could read her so easily. He took a step away, but stayed in the shadow of the building.

  “It was to protect you…” he began.

  “Bullshit,” she spat out.

  He spun around and took in the heat rising in her cheeks. “Do you know what the Authority does to people who defy them, Delilah?”

  She bristled. “They put them in jail cells,” she answered. She’d been in a couple, herself. Holding cells overnight, for drinking or being out past curfew. Any number of silly infractions.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m talking about the really serious ones. Saying something against the Authority, for example. Like what happened to my mother. She wasn’t arrested for being on some stupid miscreant list. She spoke out against them, Dee. She fought them.”

  Delilah looked away. She wanted to say no one would be that stupid, but there’d been pushback to the bots rule. Completely idiotic. No one could fight the bots and their technology. Her gaze shot back to Zane. She thought he agreed, but his head hung and his eyes were trained on her, waiting for her to make the connection.

  “Zane, no,” she said. He couldn’t be part of the bot resistance.

  He put his hands in his pockets and shuffled over to her. “Some of the prisoners they kill. Slowly, after they torture them for information.”

  She shook her head, wanting to put her hands over her ears. Trouble was one thing. Treason, another.

  “Some they put to work, mining for the materials they use. It’s another death sentence, though. None make it home.”

  He waited for her to look up. “And some? They put in zoos, Delilah. For their own amusement. Shows. Experiments.”

  “That’s a rumor.” She realized she was still pressed up against the wall and relaxed a bit. The bit about people zoos had been an urban legend forever, but so few people were allowed into the Authority City it had never been confirmed. Everyone thought it was a story sent out to scare people into submission. But how much fear did they need? The bots were already ages ahead in technology.

  He touched her chin and tipped her head up. “It’s real.” He met her gaze and held it. She wanted to fight back, to tell him he believed in children’s stories. In nightmares. But something in the strength of his conviction convinced her that he, at least, thought he was right. And if he believed it, she owed it to him to at least listen.

  A lot of questions formed, but the cool, detached Delilah took over. The one who planned and got them out of trouble. Trouble, usually, being an Authority holding cell. This time it ran deeper and more complicated, but she wouldn’t fold. Shrinking from conflict was not something Delilah Rose O’Connell would ever do.

  She looked up and down the street. It was deserted, but patrols occasionally came around. Unless he’d disabled them, too. A chill crawled up her arm. How far did this go?

  “We have to get out of here, first,” she said, but that was as far as her plan went.

  “I have an idea where to go.” He had the good sense to turn away, because the expression she was giving him was piercing. So he’d been around the industrial zone, too, had he? What else didn’t she know?

  “But you’re not going to like it,” he finished.

  She sighed. She’d have to put her anger aside, at least for now. Zane always had reasons for the things he did, even if they didn’t make sense. “I already don’t like it,” she said. She waited until he met her gaze, and gave a little nod indicating she was with him, for now, anyway. His shoulders relaxed.

  “Follow me,” he said, “but stay close. I don’t think they fixed the cameras yet. They were on a loop, so the bots wouldn’t know they were busted.”

  He said it like he expected praise, but Delilah only grunted. Acceptance was one thing, praise another.

  “Just stay in the shadows,” he told her.

  Hiding was one thing she could do. She followed Zane down the alley, and further into the maze of buildings. Into the den of the lion.

  Delilah hadn’t been to this part of the city often since her father’s death. His warnings had given her a healthy dose of fear. And Delilah wasn’t afraid of much. She’d gone with Zane to make some stupid deals, mostly to prove her bravery or to keep an eye on Zane. He’d never buy anything that could hurt or permanently injure himself, she hoped. But sometimes he got in broody moods, and lately, he’d been more circumspect. She thought he was seeing someone. Obviously, there was more going on.

  The streets between the buildings were wide enough to drive trucks through. They were even and well-kept though Delilah had to step over puddles here and there. She missed one and splashed water up to her ankle.

  She mumbled a curse, and Zane turned back with a smirk. “Maybe it’ll help with the mud,” he joked. Though that, she thought, looking down at her skirt, would take an industrial strength washer. She looked like a rat.

  “You’re no better,” she teased. Along with the mud, he’d gotten a long gash in the back of his jacket. Somehow, though, he wore it well. It gave him a mysterious air. Dangerous. Or maybe he was all those things and she didn’t notice, because inside, he was Zane. The mousy-haired boy who she shared so many adventures with. The one that would court trouble, only to pull back at the last minute. The one who was one hell of a kisser.

  The alleys were dark, wide swaths of concrete. No point in streetlights here. The bots could see in the dark. And the few humans who worked in this sector kept daytime hours. Water pooled and made it appear the puddles had no bottom. Like you could step into their depths and they’d swallow you up.

  The warehouses were unmarked, but numbers in white paint at the end of the alley hinted at their location, though Delilah couldn’t remember how the number system worked. Zane slowed at an intersection with a wider, main street lined with long, gray warehouses. The location was marked as “A4” at the end of the street. Zane paused.

  “We need to get there.” He pointed to a warehouse across the boulevard and a quarter mile down the street.

  “And let me guess,” Delilah looked over his shoulder. “The cameras are working here?”

  He smoothed the hair back on his forehead, leaving a line of dirt. “We messed with the system, but there are no guarantees. Usually I come in from further south…”

  She shook her head, taking note of certain words to hold on to for later. We. Usually. He’d been here a lot, she guessed, and without her.

  First things first, get away from the Authority bots. She put her hands on her hips. “What do you suggest?”

  He eyed her with suspicion that gradually warmed up to a smile. “I’m sorry I kept it from you…”

  “Save it,” she interrupted. She eyed the cameras, at least the ones in sight. They were anchored on the tops of the buildings, at the corners.

  She pointed to the building across the street. “That one’s moving.” The small box swept left and right along the wide boulevard, an unblinking red eye washing over the concrete. There were two wide lanes ahead of them, with a section of greenery between. Delilah wondered why they bothered making the area look nice. It wasn’t like bots were big on scenery.

  He pursed his lips. “The others, though…” He watched the other cameras for a few moments. They seemed to be steady. “They’re still hacked. Maybe if we can avoid the active one?”

  “There could be others,” she warned, but there were few places for them. With no windows, the place was sterile. She eyed the greenery in the middle. If there were cameras, she couldn’t tell. She doubted they had satellites. That technology had been sabotaged near the end of the war, and as far as she knew, it had never been built back in the last fifty years.

  “Dee.” He took her hand and squeezed. His brown eyes were wide, pleading, and familiar. She’d seen them crinkle in laughter or spill the occasional tear, but even so, she couldn’t shake
the feeling she never really knew him. “Go back. I mean it.”

  She gave him her sternest expression. “And do what? Amble back over the bridge? I’m not leaving you here.” She hoped her words didn’t betray her true emotions. Curiosity. Concern. Anger. Maybe even love. But her voice was shaky; there was no denying that.

  He gave her a once over. The anguish left his face, replaced by determination. “Okay, then. We duck the camera. It shouldn’t be hard.” He made an arc with his hand, following the movement of the camera slowly left and right. It followed an algorithm. They could beat it, if they ran fast.

  Zane crouched down beside the building.

  “Where are the patrols?” Delilah asked. She rubbed her arms. “And the heat sensors? They must know we’re here.”

  He watched the slow arc of the camera, bided his time. “Generally, they look the other way,” he responded in a voice that was too casual. “But for good measure, we’ve messed with those systems, too. As far as the Authority is concerned, their cameras are watching an empty, quiet street.”

  He finished with a satisfied smile, and Delilah didn’t bother to point out that if the camera in front of them were working, it could be projecting environmental data, as well. Data that would show two humans, crouched in the shadows. They may even be able to identify them. Who knew what his hack was capable of, though?

  “Let’s go.” He waited until the red eye had gone past them and jetted out from their position. Zane could run at a good clip, but Delilah kept pace two steps behind him. It wouldn’t be the first time they ran away from danger—or into it, as the case may be. Maybe both at the same time.

  He sprinted across the street, over the green parkway, and past the first warehouse. She measured her breaths, but easily kept up as they passed the long, gray building. She didn’t know how far the camera reached, but she wanted to be well out of its range by the time the eye arced back, which would be soon. They rounded the next warehouse and ducked into the alley.

  Zane was more winded than her, a sure sign of his nerves. He pulled her further into the alley. “Just in case,” he mumbled. The alley was big enough for two trucks to drive down, but covered in complete darkness. Not even the moonlight seemed to reach between the tall buildings. Garage doors for deliveries lined the walls, but they were bolted closed. Otherwise there was only the sound of their breathing, the whistling of the wind, and the far-off echo of the Authority bots searching for them. It was not a comforting sound. At least the jog had warmed them up, but Delilah still shivered. Being here brought back memories she wanted to forget. Had her father walked these streets on the way to his work? Was this where he died? Was this where they would die?

  Zane shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. She gave him a grateful smile and slipped her arm around the tear while at the same time making a show of sniffing it and making a face.

  “It’s the mud,” he joked, but she was teasing. It might smell a little like the river, but underneath it smelled like him.

  He looked down the alley and rolled up his long sleeves. It was a wonder he wasn’t cold, too, but his blood ran hotter than hers. It always had.

  He turned back to her and paused for a moment, then held out a hand. She took it. “Seven doors down,” he told her. “But don’t tell anyone I told you.”

  “Very secret,” she said, falling in step next to him. She tried not to grasp his hand too tightly, but she was trembling.

  “It has to be.” This time he squeezed her hand, but he didn’t offer any more. They moved quickly. The bots’ announcements rose in volume. They were closer. They had chased them into the industrial zone, and it wouldn’t be long before they found them in this maze of buildings. Delilah wiped her eye with her other hand, wishing she hadn’t lost her fingerless gloves. She flexed her fingers and made a fist, putting her other hand in her pocket to steady it.

  He stopped partway down the alley, in front of a nondescript gray shipping dock with a code reader on the side. He opened the lock, typed in a code, and closed it again. The building hummed, then the door started to pull open. And only just in time. Down the street where they had just been, a helicopter shined a spotlight down.

  “Go.” He gave her a shove, and she stepped into the pitch back warehouse. Zane stepped in behind her, keyed the code again, and locked them into the inky blackness.

  A wave of warmth hit Delilah as soon as the door closed. So the warehouse was heated, she thought. Interesting, as the bots could operate at just about any temp and according to rumor, the warehouses were colder than outside. Her dad used to come home with his hands chapped raw from working in the chill, or so he said. She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts, but even so, she wondered. Did he work in this warehouse? Did he know about this place?

  Zane clicked a flashlight on, and the noise echoed.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged, but his face barely hid his happiness. He swung the flashlight in an arc around the warehouse. Assembly line tables lined the room, with various cogs, gears, and metals on them. Delilah took a step toward the closest one, and Zane shone the light on the table.

  She lifted one of the smallest gears between her thumb and forefinger. “They don’t make bots here,” she said. It wasn’t a question though she had no idea what went into the machines systems. This was intricate. Beautiful, even.

  “No.” He lowered the light. She slipped the cog in her pocket.

  “Are you going to tell me what they do make?” She arched an eyebrow, but he couldn’t see. He was busy snaking his way through the cluttered tables. A jacket hung off the back of one chair. A half drank coffee sat on the table. People were working with their hands? That rarely happened anymore.

  “It’s better if I show you,” he said. “Come on.” She had no choice but to follow him, as his enthusiasm was catching. Her mind reeled. Real work? By human hands? It was almost unthinkable. From what she knew about this place and Authority City, everything was automated. Bots used the humans for menial tasks—like her job of cleaning the boats—but everyone knew it was a way to keep them occupied so they didn’t rebel. But why would they? Humans would be crushed.

  Delilah sidled around a table, following the light of Zane’s flashlight bobbing up and down in his haste to cross the room. Something shot out from under the table and tangled itself in her feet. A mouse, she thought, but here? It sure looked like a mouse, and sounded like a mouse, but it jumped around her feet too playfully, and when it paused, its red eyes pinned her and Delilah screamed.

  Zane was on her in an instant, covering her mouth with his hand. “It’s okay,” he whispered, which only mildly assured her.

  “I’m going to move my hand, don’t scream. We have noise reducers, but…” She didn’t need to know the but. She wasn’t sure what they were doing here, but they didn’t want to get caught.

  He moved his hand slowly, but it took longer for her heartbeat to return to normal. The mouse had retreated a few inches from her feet, sat on its back legs, and tipped its head curiously.

  “This is Thor.” Zane crouched down, and clicked his tongue. The mouse responded by climbing into his hand and nuzzling its nose. He stood. “Harmless,” he said.

  Delilah took a step back. “Hardly,” she admonished. “He’s a…”

  “—Bot, I know. But he’s not connected. We made him.”

  Delilah shook her head. “You might have mentioned this.” She squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to forget for a minute the danger, but when she opened them the warehouse was still before her eyes. The mouse, in Zane’s hand, stretched its neck out to her. It’s fine whiskers were made of wire. Her stomach rolled.

  “She’s like Gen,” Zane stroked the mouse’s head. “Off the network.”

  “I feel like there’s more to this.” Delilah tried to keep her voice even, but she heard it rising in tone. If this was the reason the Authority bots were searching
for him, it couldn’t be good. This would mean more than a night in a jail cell, that’s for sure.

  “There is.” He held out his hand. Thrust it, really, so Delilah was forced to take the mouse or let it drop. And even she couldn’t do that.

  The tiny wires all over its body felt like fur, downy and soft. And its eyes were sentient like Gen’s. Curious, even. She tried to push aside her distrust, even hatred, of the bots. To see this creature as its own being, as a being like Gen, even, changed things.

  “Thor, eh?” Delilah asked. She brushed the mouse’s nose, and it responded with a high-pitched squeak.

  Zane took it back, balancing the flashlight under his arm, and gently deposited the mouse back on the floor. “Off with you.” He gave it a little nudge with his foot. “You’re not supposed to be up here. We could get in trouble.”

  The mouse rose on its back legs and issued a hail of squeaks. Zane pushed his hair back off his forehead. “I know. It’s boring down there. It’s just not time yet. They can’t find you.”

  Delilah looked from Zane to the mouse, in the little circle of the flashlight beam. “You understand it?”

  “Her.” He corrected. “And no, not really. Not in speech. But she’s mad. Anyone can see that.” Delilah raised an eyebrow again. “You just have to learn to read nuances,” he told her. “Let’s go.”

  Delilah fell in step. “Too bad you can’t read humans half as well,” she said, dodging as the mouse darted in and out of her legs.

  “Maybe I can,” he answered. He reached the windowless wall on the far side of the warehouse and looked back, judging the distance to the other side, which was about fifty feet. Delilah heard him count tables. Thor bit his ankle and Zane jumped, then the mouse led him two feet to the right.

  “Ah, thank you my friend,” he said.

  “What are you…” but before Delilah finished, Zane pushed on the wall and it opened about a foot. He shone the flashlight in, illuminating narrow steps parallel to the wall, barely wide enough to let her pass if she chose to go down.