by Aaron Denius
“I have some in my office. You can have as much as you like.” She slows down so I can walk next to her. “How do you like it here?”
I look at her. Is she testing me? Trying to pry information about what Farouk and I are doing? “It's okay.”
“Don't lie to me, 80. I can see through you from a mile away.” She chuckles, but it only makes me more suspicious.
“I'm not.” I guess part of it is correct, since I met KJ.
“Listen. What we discuss stays between you and me. I have no intentions of telling Lucie anything that could curtail your mission.” She must have picked up on my suspicion. “Farouk told me about what happened and about 13. He wanted me to talk to you about it, and about the effects of your continued evolution.”
A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders. With Paz on my side, I've found someone I can talk with about everything. KJ and 13 wouldn't understand, and conversations with Farouk always seem one-sided.
Paz opens a door near the end of a corridor that looks like all the others. There aren't any markings anywhere. How long did it take everyone to familiarize themselves with the layout? As soon as I step in, I run to a table with a bowl of pouches on it. I'm in the middle of my second one when I look up to see Paz shaking her head and smiling.
I put the empty and half-eaten pouch back in the bowl. “I'm so sorry.”
“It's quite alright. Help yourself.” She laughs as she takes a seat in a big brown chair on the other side of the table. She sinks into it as if the chair has learned every curve of her body.
“Thank you,” I reply as I grab the half-eaten pouch and sit in a chair that's next to me. It's not as welcoming, but I find a comfortable position leaning forward. It's great because it keeps me at arm's length from more pouches, which I help myself to a few more times.
“So, tell me what happened with 13.” She grabs a pouch herself, opens it, and places it on the table in front of her.
“He followed me into the city. I was having dinner with KJ when—” I stop short. I knew I shouldn't have said KJ's name. Paz will react like the others and tell me not to see her. Not that anyone can stop me if I choose to see her.
“When what?” she pries. Upon reading my apprehension, she adds, “Don't worry about KJ. I'll ask about her later. I think it's fascinating that you are developing romantic feelings.”
I almost spit up the entire third pouch I just inhaled. “I don't have romantic feelings!”
“You do. You just don't know what those feelings are yet, but you will.” She laughs. I don't like it. I don't like that she's laughing at me. But she's right. I don't know what she's talking about. I know I like KJ. Are those what romantic feelings are?
“13 and another drone attacked us.” I cut off her laughter. The whole topic is making me uncomfortable.
“And?” She grabs her pouch and takes a big mouthful.
“We fought. The other drone was killed, but I choked 13 until he blacked out.” I'm cautious about revealing how the other drone died. I don't want to get KJ's mom in trouble. “When he came to, I could tell he had changed.”
Paz grabs a tablet and starts writing down notes. “Changed how?”
I take a few moments to think, trying to recollect what happened. “There seemed to be more there. Like a dam broke in his mind, and a flow of new information was flooding his head.”
“Interesting. Is this what happened to you?” She's so preoccupied with my story, she hasn't noticed that the contents of her pouch have spilled onto her table.
“Yes. Right after I was shot, and it hasn't stopped. The flood is still happening. I just feel I'm navigating it better.” I answer.
Paz thinks for a few moments, subconsciously cleaning up the pouch that had leaked on her table. She speaks to herself. “So, you need to bring a drone close to death, and they will turn.”
“I think so,” I add.
“Interesting.” She stands from her chair and walks around the table to me. I stand to meet her, and with her hand on my back, she ushers me to the door. Before she opens it to let me out, she looks me in the eye. “Come back in a couple of days. I will have something for you. And next time you see 13, tell him I'd like to see him.”
“Can I ask you one more thing?” I stop before I step through. “I’ve been having visions when I sleep. I don’t know what those are.”
She tilts her head. “Did you not have those before?”
“No. Some scare me, and all show me something that hasn’t happened,” I tell her.
“Those are called dreams. It’s just your subconscious speaking to you. They are harmless.” She smiles as she pushes me into the hallway and closes the door behind me. I stand outside, looking at the three possible hallways that could lead me back to my room. Paz kept me so distracted that I didn't notice how we got here.
Right before I head down the more extended hallway, I see a couple of scientists turn the corner and think better of that choice. I turn and head in the opposite direction. This route weaves and turns, but it remains the original hallway. There are a few large metal doors, but they are all locked shut. After a few more turns, I step out into a giant open room. It reminds me of the massive field I landed on when I first arrived here. This area is not as desolate and gloomy. Hundreds of drones litter the vast room.
“Traitor!” A shout behind me deafens my ears. Before I turn, the hands attached to the voice push me to the ground. I catch my fall and spring back to my feet, facing my assaulter.
I ball my hands up, ready to defend myself. In my peripheral, I see that the commotion has caught the rest of the drones' attention. They are all walking toward me. I can't fight back; they'd tear me to pieces.
The fist of the drone in front of me connects with my jaw. Pain sears through my head, aided by the pre-existing bruises from the fight at KJ's house. The second punch knocks me to the ground. I'm not sure if it came from the same drone or a different one. I pick myself up, but before I regain my balance, a foot connects with the side of my knee. I place my hand on the ground to catch myself. Another drone's foot kicks into the side of my stomach, and a punch hits my forehead above my left eye. The impacts fold me over to the floor. I don't know how much more I can handle. With every drone wanting to get in their hit, I'm not sure I'll make it to the last one.
CHAPTER VII
“Enough!” A booming voice echoes above the crowd around me. From the corner of my eye, I see 13 running toward me. The rest of the drones step back, respecting the command of their leader. He reaches me and extends his hand to help me up.
I look at him but don't take his hand. He pulls it back, understanding my intent. With the last bit of energy I have, I pull myself up and stand next to 13. “Thank you.”
“80 is one of us.” He speaks to the crowd. His audience is attentive, with all eyes on him. It reminds me of one of the dreams I had back in the cell at the compound. 13 continues, “He was shot in the eye while protecting a valuable asset. They must have deemed him worthy if they kept him around and brought him here. You will respect him as your own. Understood?”
It's a command, not a question. In unison, the drones stomp their right feet in compliance. The thunder reverberates over the room. Before it dissipates, the drones disperse and head back to their activities.
“Come with me.” 13 walks back into the hallway from which I came. I follow as best I can, keeping my winces to a minimum. He's already changed a lot. The 13 I first met would have let the drones beat me to death. A little way down the hall, he enters one of the rooms with the large metal doors. I remember trying the handle to this one, and it was locked when I first walked by.
I follow him in. “Is this your room?”
“Yes,” he responds. “Close the door.”
I look around—his room is at least three times bigger than mine. He has his bed in the back right corner, next to the door that holds the bathroom. On the other side are a chair and a desk facing a wall with four monitors. Plastic documents litter the desk, bu
t the monitors draw my attention. One of them displays the big room I was just in, which must have been how 13 found me. The other three show different parts of the exterior of the compound. Not much activity graces those screens. I turn toward him. “What do those show?”
He doesn't look at me. When he finally turns, his face has an innocence to it that seems rooted in pain. “What is happening to me?”
I take a seat in the chair next to the desk, and he sits on his bed. Any questions I have will have to wait. I'm not ready for this talk, but I don't have much choice. Before I start, he disappears into the bathroom and comes back out with a wet towel. He tosses it to me as he sits back on his bed. I take it and wipe the drying blood from my face. I then fold the cool towel up and place it at my ribs where one of the drone's kicks landed.
Over the next few hours, I tell 13 everything. I navigate my explanations with care, but I don't leave anything out. I explain that what he is going through is what I went through, becoming more human and experiencing more emotions. I tell him that it will worsen, but the struggle will pay off when he starts to see the beauty around him. Next, I detail the compound where I came from and the scientists' plans for the end of the world. I tell him about Atom and the other Genesys. Then I explain that Farouk and I have to stop the scientists and how I will need his help.
Not once throughout does he speak or ask a question. He sits and listens, processing everything I said. I don't even think he blinks.
“Okay,” is all 13 says when I’m done.
I sit for a few more moments to see if he wants to add anything more, but I stand when the silence begins to feel uncomfortable, my body stiff from the beating. “There is a scientist, Paz. She's tall and big, and her office is where this hall meets two others. She is working with Farouk and me. Talk to her. She will help you make better sense of this.”
After realizing that he's not going to say anything, I step out and close the door behind me. The walk back to my room takes longer than I would like, and each step adds another layer to the pain. I only make a couple of wrong turns down the mostly empty hallways but find my way back to my corridor. I manage to shut the door behind me as I ease myself into bed.
Over the next few days, I sleep. I only wake to use the bathroom or eat some of the pouches that are replenished in my room. My body yearns for the rest as it recovers from the multitude of injuries. After the fourth day, my body, at last, feels able to carry its weight.
I shower for the first time in what feels like weeks and ingest three pouches before I head out my door. I learned my lesson. With everything going on, I won't know when the next time I'll eat might be. I put a couple in my pocket just in case.
I survey my hallway. There is a group of scientists at one end under the etching I made. With the scientists standing underneath, I see the mistake in what I did. Hoping I'm overlooked, I turn to walk the other way.
“80!” a familiar voice calls out for me. I stop in my tracks and see Farouk push his way through the other scientists and lumber toward me. “Hold up.”
“Am I in trouble?” I inch out. My body may feel better, but the sleep hasn't healed my mental exhaustion. I'm not in the mood for a lashing from Farouk.
“How are you feeling?” His concern is genuine. Before I can answer, he interrupts himself, “Never mind that. I have spoken with 13. You were right. The drones come around when they've been close to death. I had 13 try it out on a couple of other drones. The first one he went too far, and we lost him, but the second we brought back! Paz is…” He trails off.
“What?” I ask.
“I'll let her tell you. Tonight, we'll meet you outside the front of the stadium. I'll tell 13.” His excitement has made him look much younger. Before I can ask any more questions, he walks off with a dance to his step.
I stand idle for a moment, trying to process this information dump. Knowing that there isn't any reason for me to go anywhere else in the stadium, I head back to my room. If I'm going to struggle to process what Farouk said to me, I might as well do it from my bed. I pull the pouches out of my pockets and fall back onto the embracing comfort.
When I drift into my thoughts, the thing that surprises me most is how involved 13 has become. This should take some of the workload I have away. Over the next few hours, I speculate about what it could be that Paz needs to say, but I realize that doing so is a dead end. I won't know until she tells me.
Having enough of my pattern-less ceiling, I opt for a more enticing view and sneak to the stadium's exterior early. The final inches of daylight are disappearing, and the last of the outsiders are heading back into the city with the handful of pouches they earned. I still have a couple of hours left before Farouk, Paz, and 13 join me, so I walk into the city a little ways and take a seat.
It is the first time I have taken in the destruction that ruined what was once a beautiful landscape. Rubble litters the streets that were once clear and open. The tall buildings have collapsed on themselves, reaching only a fraction of the height they once did. What was once adorned with colors has had dust and destruction cover it in brown and gray. It's sad, and it makes me wonder how happy and healthy the people who once walked these streets were. If they only knew what their self-serving attitudes would do to the world they called home. It helps me understand the reasoning behind Dr. Anfang and the other scientists’ plan, but it doesn't make it right. There has to be another way. If we can be changed, if we can be brought back from the dead with a new perspective, a new appreciation for life and beauty, so too can everyone else. Give them a chance to rise from the ashes.
Without warning, a small sting hits the back of my neck. I stand as my hand smacks my neck. When I look back at my hand, there are no signs of a bug or blood. That's when I notice a pebble hit my chest. Instincts kick in, and I raise my fists. Another stone hits my shoulder, but this time I catch an arm in my peripherals.
“Who’s there?” I demand in a firm whisper.
“Are you alone?” a female responds. The voice sounds familiar.
I look around as I step closer. “Yes.”
Behind a small pile of rubble, KJ stands up. “Hi, 80.”
The second she registers, I run toward her, stopping in front of her. She looks up at me, and when she smiles, I take her in my arms and pull her close.
“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” I wish there were better words to express my remorse.
Her response shocks me as she plants her lips on mine. I don't know what to do. My eyes grow wide, and my heart speeds up. Fear and happiness fight for dominance. There is something else there. A yearning for this moment to be eternal. It feels the fear, helping it triumph. My arms go limp, and she pulls away.
She looks at me, ashamed. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.”
“I liked it. You took me by surprise.” I take her hand to show her that I mean it.
She clutches my hand tighter and sits me down. “Where have you been? I haven't seen you at the line, and I've slogged around the stadium for hours each day, hoping to see you.”
“I didn't think you'd want to,” I respond. Her expression lets me know I was in the wrong. “I've been recovering.”
Over the next few minutes, I fill her in on the last few days in the stadium and how I was attacked. She tells me about her family and how they've been recovering from the attack. I apologize a dozen times for putting her and her family in that position. She responds by saying that it was a wake-up call for her mother and that she's has a newfound vigor.
“Pocket asks about you.” She smiles.
It puts a smile on my face as well. “Tell her I say hello.”
Her eyes shift from mine to her left, and her face drops. Fear replaces the joy that filled her face. I place myself between her and what she's looking at, ready to protect her at any cost. After a couple of seconds, I realize that it is 13.
He hasn't spotted us yet, so I call out to him, “13, over here.”
KJ pulls me down to hide behind some rubble.
“What are you doing?”
“It's okay,” I reassure her. After what happened at her home, I know that 13 is the last possible person she'd want to see. Now, however, I can show each of them a little bit more of the story they don't know.
13 hustles over but comes to a stop when he sees KJ. He's also aware of what he did, and remorse floods over his entire body.
“KJ, meet 13. 13, this is KJ.” I try to break the ice. Neither of them responds. KJ remains behind me.
“I'm so sorry, KJ.” 13 breaks the silence. “I truly am. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm sorry if I hurt any of you. I didn't know any better.”
For someone who has never apologized before, he did pretty well. It also seems to have worked, because KJ steps away from behind me.
She looks me dead in the eyes. “Explain.”
“13 and I were created a certain way. Programmed to fulfill only a handful of objectives. Follow orders and protect the scientists’ agenda at any cost,” I dive in. “But the programming can be reversed. That's what happened to me back in Egypt, and it’s why Farouk brought me here.”
13 looks at me, surprised by how candid I am with KJ.
“I didn't know,” KJ interjects.
“There is a lot that the scientists haven't told you guys. They've lied to keep you tame and in the dark. They don't want you all to try to fight them like in Egypt.” As I speak, I see a dark silhouette coming from the stadium. I turn to KJ. “Someone is coming. You should go.”
“Okay,” is all she says.
Before she leaves, I grab her hand. “I'll meet you tomorrow night. Further in.”
This puts a big smile on her face. Before I can react, she kisses me on the cheek. “Look for the X.”
My cheeks turn bright red, and words have trouble climbing my throat. KJ runs off, leaving 13 and me alone. I'm afraid to face 13 because I am unsure of what he might say, and I'm too embarrassed.
“What was that?” he asks.
I don't want to answer, and as I turn, my wish is granted. The silhouette has reached us.