Unbreakable

by Will McIntosh

  “There. I feel much better.” Beaners zipped his fly.

  Anand had to stand on his tippy-toes to reach the button for the lobby.

  Celia felt so foolish. She’d really believed Bage and her friends liked her, that she was going to be one of them, shopping and hanging out.

  “Where are we going?” She felt incredibly self-conscious speaking. “Do you think we’re still on TV? Where do they hide the cameras?”

  Anand looked around, searching for evidence of a camera. The side walls of the elevator were mirrored, creating a string of elevators out to infinity, each housing three rather small figures.

  “We have to go somewhere where we know there are no cameras,” Beaners said.

  Yes. That made sense. But where was that, the middle of the ocean? As soon as the doors swooshed open, they jogged into the lobby, then outside onto the brightly lit sidewalk.

  “I think—” Celia choked on the rest of her words, as giants in red uniforms converged on them from all sides.

  Anand launched himself at the closest figure, landed a savage punch to his crotch before three others jumped on him like a fumbled football, pinning him to the pavement.

  Beaners was lying pinned to the ground as well, although he had company: one of the Redsuits was writhing on the ground nearby, his leg badly broken.

  Hands gripped Celia’s shoulders and arms, lifted her as she kicked and screamed, and carried her into a perfectly square silver truck—a cube on wheels. As soon as the double doors slammed shut, the truck drove off.

  “Anand?” Celia screamed as someone yanked her arms behind her back and clicked handcuffs on her wrists. Tiny handcuffs. They thought of everything. “Where is Anand?”

  No one answered.

  Chapter 20

  As she sat in the giant cushioned swivel chair in an empty conference room on floor three hundred eleven of Dominion’s headquarters, her hands still cuffed behind her, it occurred to Celia that this might still be part of the show. She looked around, trying to imagine where they would hide a camera.

  “No cameras in here.”

  Celia flinched at the voice. She twisted in her chair to glare at Max as he strolled in beside a full-sized woman. He looked like a munchkin beside her.

  “Celia, this is Lara Daughtry, President of Programming for Dominion Productions.”

  Lara looked like she was just out of college, maybe twenty-five, high-heeled shoes, bright red business suit and matching hair. She held out her hand to shake, then clicked her tongue when she realized Celia was handcuffed.

  “Take those things off her. What’s she going to do, kick me in the shins?” She laughed, looking at Celia as if she expected Celia to laugh along. As Max uncuffed Celia, Lara launched into what sounded like a rehearsed speech.

  “So here’s the deal. How this show ends is up to you. You can cooperate and position yourself nicely for a long run and a starring role, or the show can end in tragedy.” She put her hands behind her back and started to pace. That looked rehearsed as well. “The tragic ending would be a challenge. We can’t have some no-name security officer shoot you in the back. Viewers would hate that. But our writers are working on it as we speak.” She sounded breathless, nervous, as she plowed ahead. “Maybe a disgruntled elderly viewer who hates you for ruining her favorite show stabs you to death. Or we go the pygmy route, and something small to us but big to you does you in. A house cat, maybe.”

  Lara stopped pacing. She sat, scrunching up her face at Celia. “You think I’m a terrible person, don’t you? I can’t blame you if you do, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under.”

  “I’m sure the pressure is unbearable.” Celia worked hard to inject as much sarcasm into her tone as possible.

  Lara swept her long bangs out of her eyes. “I took a huge risk in turning your escape into a show. So far it’s paid off—we’re raking in beaucoup viewership in the thirteen to twenty age group. But we have to stick the landing.”

  Because Dominion was in trouble. It was a sinking ship with an aging viewership and huge expenses.

  “Now, Anand could die without harming our numbers at all.”

  Celia looked up, startled.

  Lara seemed gratified by Celia’s reaction. “We were hoping he would be the romantic interest, but he’s not all that popular with viewers.” Lara lifted a pitcher of ice water and raised her eyebrows. Celia shook her head. “He has an interesting backstory, the PTSD is a nice touch, and early on he delivered some great lines and played off Beaners well.” She poured herself a glass of water, and again, Celia couldn’t help but feel it was part of an act she’d planned out ahead of time. “But he’s too withdrawn, just too damaged. Beaners, on the other hand, has been spectacular.” She spread her arms. “He’s like—”

  “What do you want?” Celia shouted. “I get it: you can kill us any time you want. I saw your mountain of corpses. Can you get to the point?”

  Lara looked startled. “Sure, we can get to the point.” Her eyes darted toward the window, then back to Celia. “I don’t want to take up your valuable time, after all.”

  Celia waited.

  Lara folded her hands on the table. “This is how the story ends: our world is too overwhelming for you. You realize you would never fit in here. And you miss home terribly. You decide to go back where you belong, where you were happy.”

  Why was Celia not surprised?

  “When you get back, you can’t tell anyone what you’ve seen, of course.” Lara was watching Celia’s face carefully.

  Celia gave her a wry smile. “Of course.”

  “But the viewers will know that you know. They’ll be in on the secret, and viewers love that. You’ll become the star of Record Breakers. Max here will return as well. You realize he was only trying to protect you. That’s high drama—bad guy turns out to be hero.” Lara cleared her throat. “So. Do we have a deal?”

  Did Celia have a choice? There was nowhere to run. She and her kind were nothing but living puppets made to dance by their puppetmasters. Celia could either dance, or die.

  She decided to let Lara wait a while. Make her sweat, at least. “Why do you let us watch movies and read books? Why go through all that trouble to filter out the things you don’t want us to know?”

  Lara gave her a big, fake smile. “Good question. The characters are what sell a show. No one wants to watch anonymous faces compete. They have to love some characters and hate others, or they won’t care. Our characters need to be people the viewers can relate to. In your town you watch older movies exclusively because Record Village attracts older viewers. Our characters are younger than our viewers, but we make you relatable by immersing you in the books and movies of our viewers’ youth. You talk and act just like they did when they were young. So there’s a heavy nostalgia element.” She tugged her pant leg, crossed her legs. “Most important is to teach you to act human. You have to have friends, fall in love. Those are crucial elements.”

  Act human. The words made Celia’s ears burn. “You know, that just because we’re small doesn’t mean we’re less human than you.”

  Lara raised a finger. “That you’re small doesn’t make you less human, no.” She grimaced, as if it hurt her to say what had to be said. “The truth, though, is you’re not human. You’re engineered from synthetic DNA to appear human, but I share more genetic material with ringworms than with you, and that’s the key, legally and morally.”

  Celia strained to understand what this woman was saying. She hated having to be spoon-fed like a child, but how could she not be ignorant? They’d kept her that way intentionally.

  “Synthetic DNA. Are you saying I’m a robot?”

  “No, you’re alive, you’re just not human. We designed you in a lab from scratch.”

  Celia swallowed. Her mouth was so dry she could barely manage it. “We’re as smart as you. Pain hurts us just as much. We love each other just as intensely.”

  Lara raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that? How do you kn
ow what we feel?”

  Celia had no answer. When she’d left Record Village she’d known exactly who she was and what she wanted. When she thought of herself now, it was like there was nothing there, no core to point to, nothing to hang on to. Only emptiness. She felt as if she were falling, and would never reach the bottom, because there was no bottom.

  “The problem is, you’re still thinking like it’s 2030. It’s not just humans and animals anymore—there are gradations in between that have to be accounted for.” Lara waved a hand in the air. “What about the brains people donate after they die that operate our hardware systems? Should those brains get to vote, even though they have no memory of being human? Or highly-advanced neurological tissue that’s vat-grown for use in computers? How close to human does something have to be before it’s treated exactly the same as a human?”

  Max looked to Lara and pointed at Celia. “May I?”

  Lara nodded, giving him permission to speak. Wise, confident Max, begging for permission to speak. “Celia, they made us. We wouldn’t exist otherwise. We’re educated, we’re fed. And that hill—yes, people who aren’t entertaining are put there. But it’s carried out as humanely as possible.”

  Celia pressed her palms over her ears, lowered her head until her forehead pressed the edge of the table. She didn’t want to hear any more. She was made to be a character in a TV show, and that’s all she could ever hope to be. She got it. Enough.

  Max stopped talking.

  She let her hands drop limply to the armrests. It was a nice chair—solid, sturdy. It knew exactly what it was.

  “It’s in your best interest to go back.” Lara spoke in a sympathetic near-whisper. “I mean, let’s face it—you’re never going to fit in here.”

  No, that much was clear. “All of us. Anand comes with me to Record Village. Beaners, too.” She tried to sound defiant, but the words came out flat, defeated.

  Lara’s eyes were bright, triumphant. “All right. Provided Anand is willing to take some direction.”

  Celia nodded wearily.

  “Wonderful.” Lara clapped her hands together. “Let’s discuss next steps.” She manipulated her handstrap. “Elijah?”

  Yet another tall, handsome person breezed into the room. He called up a map of the city, kept his gaze on it while he spoke. “There was no feed of the three of you being picked up outside Bage Waller’s building, so as far as the viewers are concerned, you three are on the run. I want you to run.” He traced the route they’d take to provide good camera coverage and dramatic backdrops. They’d run for a day, sleep in a carefully-chosen culvert where they’d be monitored for their own safety. Tomorrow they’d bump into a kindly older couple who would recognize them and offer to help. After hiding out in their house for a couple of days, Celia would have her epiphany: there’s no place like home. Celia nodded at the appropriate times, but she could barely hear the guy through the ringing in her ears, the hum of her despair.

  Anand would be there. She tried to hold onto that. Maybe she could find a way through the walls he’d built in Slaughtertown, and they’d fall in love. Of course viewers would be watching them fall in love, and she and Anand would be aware of that every moment. How do you have intimate moments, say the things people say to each other when they’re in love, if you know a million people are watching?

  When the strategy session was over, they led her to a room where Anand and Beaners were waiting. Beaners was helping himself to a spread of deli meats and fruit, while Anand sat pinching the bridge of his nose. Celia wanted to run to Anand and hold him, but no, he might sweep her leg and slam her to the ground. She could hug Beaners, but he’d probably try to cop a feel.

  Anand looked up when Celia sat down across from him. His lip was swollen from the struggle. “I guess I need to practice my record-breaking. At least, that’s what they’re saying.”

  “You don’t believe them?” Celia asked.

  Anand shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe at this point.”

  It was true—what would compel Lara to keep her promise, once they were back on the island? Anand could die without hurting our numbers at all, she’d said. Had there been a moment of hesitation when Celia demanded they all stay together, or was she imagining that?

  Elijah clapped twice. “All right, showtime.”

  Celia struggled to her feet. All of the strength had gone out of her legs. They owned her. She was property.

  When they reached the street, Bage, Raelyn, and dozens of their friends were waiting. Their faces were waiting, anyway, floating in the air.

  Bage floated up to her, her minions right behind. “Celia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Go to hell, Bage.”

  It looked as if Celia’s words stung Bage. Or maybe Bage was just an excellent actress. “We were keeping something from you, but everything else was real. I do like you.”

  “Well, that’s really big of you, to like me even though I’m made from fake DNA.”

  Bage’s reaction to the words confirmed what Celia suspected: Bage had known what they were, how they’d been made. She’d played dumb and innocent, but she was neither.

  Celia stopped walking. “Don’t follow us, don’t speak to us. Go watch us on TV like everyone else.” She raised her voice. “All of you. Go on.” She folded her arms and waited.

  “Celia, please—”

  “Go.”

  Celia was surprised when Bage’s face disappeared. There was nothing Celia could have done if Bage and her cohort had pulled a Beaners and just tagged along. Yet that would have seemed pretty pathetic to viewers, a pack of scolded dogs following with their tails tucked between their legs. Probably not good for your pop rating. Celia knew what a pop rating was now, too. Popularity with viewers. Hers was high. Anand’s was low.

  Anand could die without hurting our numbers at all.

  As they walked on, Celia scanned the busy street. She needed a place away from the cameras, to think. But there could be cameras anywhere. She crossed over a manhole cover as big as a kitchen table, much like the one she’d had to force open to escape from Record Village, only bigger.

  She paused. It was dark down there. No light, no cameras. No way Dominion could follow.

  “What?” Anand asked.

  Celia squatted, stuck two fingers in a little groove on the edge and tried to lift. It didn’t budge.

  “Help me lift this.”

  “What?” Beaners stepped on the manhole cover. “What the hell are you doing? They’re giving us a way out.”

  Celia looked up. “So what did they offer you?”

  Beaners stared her down. “Three meals a day, with chocolate. Every day.” He folded his arms. “Safety. People my own size. Not being dead.”

  “Celia.” Anand was standing over her. “There’s nothing here for us.”

  She stood, brushed the knees of her jeans. “And what did they offer you?”

  He shrugged. “They said I’d get to stay with you.” He tried to force a smile. “They didn’t say anything about chocolate.”

  “Very funny.” The thing was, they were right. Except, they weren’t. “So you’re ready to give up and hope our owners keep their promises?”

  Anand looked away. “You’re the one they trained to never give up. They trained me to survive.”

  “All they trained me to be was entertaining,” Beaners said. “The surviving part I picked up all by myself.”

  Celia had to move out of the way to avoid a muscular guy in a lime-green suit who made no attempt to skirt around her.

  It was true, she didn’t know how to give up. Giving up was the worst thing, worse than dying. Who was she, if she gave up? Already, it turned out she wasn’t human; if she gave up, she wouldn’t even be herself.

  “I just need time to think.”

  Beaners put his hands on his hips. “In the sewer?”

  Anand squatted, stuck his fingers in the groove. “Get off there and help me.”

  Beaners huffed. �
��Fine.” He raised his index finger. “One hour. You get one hour to make peace with yourself, then we get off this merry-go-round.” He stepped off the cover. “Look out.”

  Celia and Anand stepped aside. Beaners, grunting, the whites of his face turning pink, slid the cover off.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” an old guy in a suit asked. A few others had stopped as well.

  “Get lost, grandpa,” Beaners growled as Celia wrapped her legs around the thick steel bar and slid down to the first horizontal rung.

  The pipe at the bottom of the ladder was blessedly dry. Celia guessed it was a drainage pipe for rain water. They headed off single-file into the darkness. It was a relief, to know for sure that no one was watching. They stopped under a different manhole that allowed enough light to bleed through that they could see one another. Celia rested her forehead against her raised knee. They’d confiscated her phone, and she suddenly realized she’d forgotten to ask for it back. It felt strange not having it.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” Beaners asked.

  Celia only shook her head. They didn’t have any choices left. They’d never had choices—Dominion had been running them through a maze the whole time.

  “You said Dominion offered safety, a chance not to die. Two months from now they’ll march my friend Molly out the gates, and she’ll have a big smile on her face because she’ll think she’s going to this magical outside that doesn’t exist, and I’ll have to smile and pretend it’s just fabulous that she’s going to be added to that hill because she wasn’t interesting enough to the viewers.”

  Beaners spread his arms. “So we make her more interesting. I’ll make her my mortal enemy. You two can make her the third corner of a love triangle. We’re on the inside now.”

  Celia lifted her head. “So we save a few of our friends, and everything else goes on as usual?”

  “Hey, it’s something. We try to run and we’re not even saving our own lives. And maybe I’m being my usual selfish bastard self, and excuse the hell out me if I am, but, don’t our lives mean anything?”

  Her head was pounding. “Go, then. Go now. No one’s stopping you.”