Contribute (Holo, #2)

by Kristy Acevedo

  It’s not fair. No matter how hard I try, they will always be there, ready to pounce, from everyday stress, from losing my parents, from being taken from Earth, and even after the best night I’ve had in a long time.

  Minutes later, Doctor A. finds me back in the PSF in the fetal position. Dominick stands in the doorway, keeping his distance. It’s just what I need and not what I want.

  Doctor A. takes one look at me and says, “It’s time to call the HME. It’s okay to get help.”

  I hug my knees, and every ounce of my soul fights to stay in place. Like any movement will destroy the little sanity I have left. But somehow, looking into Doctor A.’s kind face, I know he’s right. I agree to HME treatment.

  SIDEKICK AUTOMATICALLY MATERIALIZES next to me when the HME system activates. A light travels over my body, and I agree to transport myself to the HME facility fully conscious. My bandwidth flashes bright blue. Doctor A. and Dominick travel with me in a medical magpod to the nearest HME facility, a sparkling, square building taller and larger than any LU community. They are not allowed inside. Patients only.

  Once admitted, SIDEKICK walks me to my private room the side of a pantry. There is no door. Once I lay on a platform in the blank room, more light runs up and down my body, but no audio assessment is given this time. Maybe it knows I’m too exhausted to listen. Maybe because this time I’m compliant.

  Through the doorway I can see other human patients, unconscious, in nearby rooms. One patient, however, is a basic, gray clad hologram. Its image fades in and out of existence as light surrounds it. I didn’t realize the HME serviced holograms as well. Must be malfunctioning.

  SIDEKICK stares down at me from bedside. Why the vances thought having your hologuide with you in a medical situation would be a comfort is beyond me.

  The AM and PM meds wash over me, and holographic visuals of close up textures and calm sceneries float above me. The table hums with a low vibration. The multisensory experience encompasses my total mind and body. It’s almost impossible to focus on anything else.

  From the another room, the gray hologram yells nonsense at the HME light, I’ve never heard a hologram raise its voice before. “Earth water and metals. Earth water and metals. The river will save you! The river will save you!”

  It reminds me of when crazy lady kept yelling random lines at the hospital Hazmat team back on Earth. I close my eyes to remember what life was like then, before I knew the truth, before I became the girl no one wants to believe.

  An ear-piercing scream from the other room brings my anxiety back to full throttle. The gray hologram flails about on the table before shouting, “I will—”

  The HME stabilizes its fluctuations and its face loses all traces of emotion.

  Something is very, very wrong. SIDEKICK has even turned its attention to witness the commotion.

  I keep quiet and pretend to be too weak to understand the implications.

  HOURS LATER, THE HME releases me to my LU after one anxiety treatment. It’s not a permanent solution unless I return throughout the next week. Doctor A. arrives and places a heavy, cooling gel blanket over me, an invention he made with his rations. Shivers pass through me, and I almost tell him to take it off, but after the goose bumps, my body temperature starts to reset itself and stay calm.

  “Was my attack from medicine withdrawal?” I ask him.

  “Could be. No way to tell.”

  “I woke up to it. I had a nightmare, but I was feeling okay about that. I hate when it happens when nothing seems to cause it.”

  He touches my forehead to check my temperature. “Sometimes there are delayed responses. It could be the stress of something that happened a day ago and stuck in your subconscious. Like an echo of stress coming back. I had one once.”

  “After something bad happened?” No wonder he’s so patient with me.

  He nods then changes the subject. “Sometimes it can even happen after an overwhelming good event. Do you know how many weddings start or end with panic attacks? And they are happy with their spouse. You’re living on another planet with conniving vances and holographic technology that makes you question reality. You aren’t my only patient having trouble adjusting.”

  My body brims with a calming coolness. I pull the blanket off me.

  “Keep it,” he says.

  “I can’t—” I hand it to him, my fist not wanting to let it go. But I can’t have him spend his rations on me.

  “Knowing I made something here, something good even if it’s small, gives me hope that I can still help people. I can make more. A warm version as well for other types of trauma.”

  He hands the blanket back, and I hug it, the cold against my forehead. He has to be the nicest doctor in existence.

  “Doctor A., there was a hologram getting medical treatment at the HME.”

  He rubs his dark hand across his smooth, bald head. “That’s unusual. Could you tell what was wrong?”

  “It faded in and out and kept screaming stuff. It looked like it was in pain.”

  His eyes search the air for answers and then return to my face. “Let me worry about it. I’ll do some detective work.”

  Someone knocks on my LU door, and my bandwidth nanoholocom screen lights up. Doctor A. and I see Dominick onscreen.

  “That’s my cue. He’s been checking on you all morning.”

  “Thank you,” I say as he turns to leave.

  He nods. “My pleasure.”

  Dominick passes Doctor A. in the doorway, and they exchange a few words that I can’t hear. Dominick sits next to me on my holobed.

  “How’re you?” he asks. His eyes are bloodshot

  “Much better.”

  “Seeing you like that—” He bites his lip.

  “Freaked you out.”

  “Yes. No. I—”

  “Ruined the romance. I knew it would be too much to handle. It’s so embarrassing.”

  He holds me gently by both shoulders. “Would you let me finish?”

  I stop talking.

  “I finally saw you.”

  “Yeah, weak. In the fetal position. That’s sexy.”

  “I never knew anxiety was so physical. It reminded me of my father before he died. Seeing you go through that only made me love you more. I had no idea it was that bad.”

  “Can we not talk about this?”

  “Why not? You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

  “It’s not that. Talking about my anxiety can cause anxiety.”

  “Oh, geez. Sorry. I didn’t know.” He sticks his hands in his pockets when they should be around me. “Changing the subject then. Any chance you’ll be feeling up to going to the Holospaces for some down time tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” It’d be good to take my mind off myself and relax, but at the same time I’m not sure if I have the energy to stand. Even with the HME treatment, my mind swarms with unanswered questions and unsure alliances.

  I SPEND TIME alone to destress and write in my journal. I tap and toss the latest BUZ on the CVBE onto the wall so I can have my hands free to copy notes. Three reminders from the meritocracy catch my eye.

  First, the three-year testing and replacement cycle is coming up in a few months. I’m surprised that’s not something else they lied about. I copy down the areas for testing that I can recognize: nanoholocom and bandwidth technology, biohologram upgrades, environmental controls, HDP, BME, PSF, and HME engineering, vertex pathways, CVBE specialties, Holospace programming, space aviation. All super high tech stuff. Guess I won’t ever have a chance to be part of the meritocracy.

  The next message states all people are equal on Solbiluna-8. It’s an odd statement for them to clarify, so I check the CVBE to see if anyone has further information about it.

  Through personal VIDs, apparently famous people, rich people, and politically powerful people from Earth are not happy with the “equal” LU conditions. Some are being “stalked, harassed, and ridiculed” by people who used to have little personal access to them. They
formed an “elite special status committee” and have requested that the meritocracy consider them for “special treatment” and separate LU communities to “reestablish their status and safety” on the new planet. The meritocracy hasn’t responded to their demands. It’s the only time I semi-respect them.

  Finally, the current contribution total has already risen to 76%, already up from when the meritocracy spoke yesterday. Benji is more right than I realized. Those of us not contributing will stick out as rebels. What else is new? I always feel like I stick out, anyway. I don’t even fit in with the Umbra anymore.

  The fake holowindow display that Benji and Marcus modified on the wall switches to a rainstorm. Droplets of water hit the false glass and create a familiar plink plink in the background. My clear bandwidth rubs against the fabric of my cranberry uniform, and I use the COM to try to contact Rita. She’s still unavailable. I need to apologize to her. Even with Dominick around, I feel lost without her.

  I spin my bandwidth in a tight circle around my wrist, then double tap it for my hologuide.

  “River Picard, please state your needs.”

  “SIDEKICK, if people don’t contribute, what jobs do they have to do?”

  “One moment. Work requirements will be determined once numbers are finalized.”

  I copy the answer into my journal, my pen tip almost ripping through the paper. “How are we supposed to decide without the details?”

  “Unable to comply.” I notice it blinks even though it’s unnecessary. An added human trait to make us feel safe.

  “Are you a just a hologuide or a biohologram?”

  “We are both. All hologuides are both.”

  I write into my journal. “So do you have memories?”

  SIDEKICK doesn’t fidget like a human would. “Yes, data storage and uplink with the nanoholocom network.”

  “No, human memories. From your life.”

  “Yes.”

  Its answer surprises me. “Who were you?”

  “Female. One offspring. No spouse.”

  “Does it bother you?” It blinks.

  “We do not understand.”

  “Do you have emotions connected to your memories?”

  “Bioholocoms do not have human emotions, only human intelligence combined with nanoholocom technology.”

  “Is contribution painful? Do you ever feel pain?”

  “No. No.”

  I copy its answers then put down my pen. “Then what happened at the HME to that hologram? I saw you watching.”

  “Unable to compute.”

  “Figures.” I lay in my holobed, place my journal on my chest, and listen to the plink plink of fake rain. “Do you ever wonder what’s the point of life?”

  “Are you referring to philosophies of existence?” It says it so robotically that it’s almost comical.

  “You actually have programming on that?”

  “Philosophy is stored under religion and history with other obsolete knowledge.”

  “Whoa, I thought you holograms are supposed to be all evolved and open?”

  “We are highly evolved and open to different views. Scientifically, existence is a causal, temporary, fluctuating state depending on definition. Those files are rarely accessed.”

  “Did you enjoy your life?”

  “We do not understand.”

  “Do you mind being a biohologram? Are you happy?”

  “I . . . We do not understand.”

  I’ve never heard SIDEKICK make a mistake before. “What was that?”

  “Request unclear. Please ask again.”

  “Did you just say, ‘I?’” The biohologram did the same thing in the HME when it was freaking out. I examine SIDEKICK for any other signs of meltdown.

  “Please finish your statement.” It blinks obliviously.

  “Ugh, never mind.” I lift my curly hair from my neck and fan it out across the pillow. “HOLOGUIDE EXIT.”

  “May your contribution lead to freedom.”

  “Wait, one more thing.”

  “River Picard, please state your needs.”

  I toss my journal onto the floor near my backpack. “Can you stop saying that phrase?”

  “Which phrase would you like to delete from programming?”

  “Can you stop saying, ‘May your contribution lead to freedom?’”

  “No, that cannot be modified.”

  I watch the fake rain hit the fake glass of a fake window. “Can you at least call me Alexandra Lucas?”

  “Alexandra Lucas. Saved.”

  I wish it were that easy.

  When I exit SIDEKICK’s program, I get a sick feeling inside my stomach that I’ve trapped an old, human soul in a technological dimension. Waiting at my beck and call for me to need her again. It’s a new form of slavery, and I know from history how history can easily repeat itself regardless of the means or technology or the planet.

  But if I could somehow free her from the program, she’d be dead.

  THAT NIGHT, DOMINICK meets me back in my LU to see if I want to chill in the Holospaces. I convince him to bring me to the Geotroupes instead so I can find Rita and apologize.

  As we step off the maglift and into the Hub, we run into Benji and Doctor A.

  “Your brother and I were coming to check on you,” Doctor A. says. “Good to see you out and about.”

  “How’re you feeling?” Benji asks. His concern for my mental health throws me off-guard. What did Doctor A. tell him?

  “Better. Dominick and I are going to see Rita.”

  “Rita’s here?” Benji says.

  “She’s with the Geotroupes,” Dominick says.

  Benji takes a moment. I notice his bandwidth gleams with soft golden light. I can’t believe he did it. I guess he’d be a hypocrite not to since he’s asking others to do it. Doctor A.’s bandwidth is still clear.

  “We were hoping to form an alliance with them since they know the land masses better than anyone here, but they’re impossible.”

  “I’ve been providing medical services to the Geotroupes,” Doctor A. says. “They’d be an excellent ally. They have a ton of knowledge, and they refuse to contribute as well. They cook their own food from LU leftover ingredients and living off the land. We’d stop wasting time bringing food back and forth from the Hub platforms to headquarters if we learned to cook.”

  “Except we are fighting technology with technology,” Benji says. “They hate everything we stand for. It’ll be a tough sell. But Rita’s there?”

  Dominick nods.

  “Interesting.” I can sense his mind turning with plans and possibilities. He can’t stand Rita, but he knows that she can be pretty persuasive and popular. I need to fight to get her back in my life. “With Doctor A.’s connections and Rita there too, it might give us the in we need. Let’s go.”

  “You’re coming with us?” I ask.

  Benji charges head, not bothering to see if we’re following him. Of course, we are following him. He didn’t give us a choice.

  CHAPTER 17

  DAY 25: 172 HOURS TO DECIDE

  KILLING ANIMALS FOR FOOD OR CLOTHING IS ILLEGAL UNLESS SANCTIONED BY THE MERITOCRACY FOR HDP SUPPLY INGREDIENTS.

  THE MERITOCRACY URGES EVERYONE TO COMPLY WITH WATER REGULATIONS.

  THE WALK TO the Geotroupes’ territory is shorter than I need it to be. Doctor A. and Benji use their bandwidths as flashlights. I didn’t realize that even out of the nanoholocom network range, the device still has some local capabilities.

  I really can’t handle a fight with Rita in front of Benji. What was I thinking?

  “Why didn’t you tell me Rita was there before?” Benji asks.

  “You never asked.” Oh God, I sound like SIDEKICK.

  “Does she know the leaders well?”

  “She said they treat her like family,” Dominick says.

  Benji grumbles in the dark and keeps charging forward. Times like this he reminds me of Dad. It makes my heart hurt for too many reasons.

  �
�Benji, what’s up with the new Umbra members? They don’t believe Earth survived?”

  “Not without hard evidence. It’s not an easy sell.”

  “But how will we get home if it’s not part of the Umbra agenda?”

  “I’m on it. Give it time. Keep yourself healthy for starters. It’s hard for people to believe a girl who’s been admitted to the hospital for mental issues.”

  My body fumes. “I . . .that’s not fair.”

  “Take a number.”

  As we approach the campsite area, Benji slows down his pace. “Let me and Doctor A. talk to them.”

  “Whatever,” I say. “Not like we have much of a choice.”

  Even though the Geotroupes’ housing is in the waste land area like the Umbra headquarters, their living conditions resemble an Earth campsite. Most of the activities take place outside, other than sleeping. Children color with chalk on rocks. A fire pit with a turquoise flame and the smell of home cooked food. Crafts. Candles. Books. The smell of hearty food and fire bathes my nostrils. While everyone has basic iridescent uniforms, the Geotroupes have ripped and repurposed them to suit their personalities. They spot Benji coming. Some run inside. I don’t blame them. I’d hide from him, too.

  An older woman with cropped blond hair steps forward, the same woman who I saw arguing at Umbra headquarters about territory. Those who fled come running back out to watch the showdown. Why do I suddenly feel like we’re in the Wild West and they’re about the spin guns and shoot?

  “We told you this is our area,” the woman says. “We don’t want you to meddle in our group.”

  Benji holds his hands up. “I’m here to make an alliance between the Umbra and the Geotroupes.”

  “Bull,” an old man nearby says and spits. “You know what happened on Earth when people with different visions made alliances? One vision was always destroyed.”

  Doctor A. nods in solidarity with the old man. Rita comes out of a nearby building with a girl with long, blond hair, both wearing layers of handmade string necklaces draped over their chest.

  “Who’s that?” I ask Dominick.

  “Hannah. You’ll like her.”

  Doubt it.

  Rita and Hannah join the other side in the gathering crowd. I should be standing next to her.