Cyborgia

by D. M. Darroch

  Billy flattened his exoskeleton into a resting position.

  “He was trying to get Ivy back. He thought he knew what caused her to fall asleep. He said he’d found a bottle and if he could understand how the medicine worked, he could wake her up.

  “He convinced all of us to help, that we’d be famous if we woke her up when the doctors couldn’t. At first, a few people volunteered. But they fell asleep, too, and the doctors put them in the hospital with Ivy.”

  “So that was it? No more experiments?” asked Angus.

  “Well, that’s what we thought. Nobody wanted to help AC anymore, but he didn’t give up. He started sneaking the medicine into people’s straws and on to their lip balm. Anything he could think of to get it into their mouths. He even smeared medicine on one guy’s computer screen; the guy bites his nails, puts his fingers in his mouth ...”

  “Falls asleep,” finished Angus.

  “Well ... that guy was me. And that’s how I found out what was really happening. When your body falls asleep, your brain doesn’t. And your brain finds something else to live in. Whatever’s close by. In my case, it was a cockroach.”

  “So all these jars full of bugs ...”

  “Are all of our classmates.”

  “Why bugs?”

  “AC loves insects. He loves doing experiments on them.”

  “Yeah. I read his lab reports.”

  “The guy has always got something crawling around in his pockets. I guess each of our brains must have found a bug in his pocket,” said Billy. “It could have been worse. I could have been a silverfish.”

  “Is that worse than a cockroach?” asked Angus.

  “Dude, insects have status, too, you know. Silverfish are like the most uncool of all the bugs. They’re like the lazy boring kid in the back of the room.”

  “Oh? I had no idea,” said Angus.

  “Oh yeah. And spiders? Bullies. Flies are those guys who will eat anything on a dare. Stinkbugs? I think you know: Those guys in the lunchroom who think it’s funny to burp and fart when you’re trying to eat. Ladybugs are the popular girls. Centipedes are the computer nerds.”

  “So what about cockroaches? What are they?”

  “Dude. We’re the jocks. Did you see how fast I can run?” Billy skittered across the desk, raced around behind the centrifuge, and skidded to a stop in front of Angus again.

  “So what’s with the computer chips and the joysticks?”

  “I don’t know,” said Billy. “Maybe AC got bored trying to fix us? Or distracted? Look at my stomach.” He crawled on to Angus’s hand. Angus slowly lifted his hand and turned it until the roach was sitting on his palm. He gently pushed the insect on to his back. Billy wiggled his six legs in the air. “Hurry, dude. This is not the most comfortable position.”

  “Hold on. Let me get a magnifying glass. It’s hard to see,” said Angus. He reached into his backpack and rummaged with one hand until his fingers found the magnifying glass he had swiped from his grandmother. She had found it an insulting birthday present when his dad had given it to her, so he’d figured she wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it.

  He held it over the squirming cockroach and examined the insect’s abdomen. Tiny chips were glued to the exoskeleton. Beneath the magnifying glass, Angus could also see micro-wires wrapped around the antennae. Angus tipped Billy back on to his feet and lowered his hand. Billy ran on to the desk.

  “Did you see? Why did he do that to me?” asked Billy.

  “Well, my knowledge of entomology is pretty limited,” began Angus. “But cockroaches use their antennae and the sensory organs on their abdomens to detect movement in the air that indicates predators are approaching. I think AC wired that joystick to create small charges that trick your insect body into thinking you’re under attack or hitting a barrier. You’re right: He was using you as a toy.”

  “Stupid jerk,” grumbled Billy.

  “Agreed. But now it’s more important than ever to get to the hospital,” said Angus. “I suspect that your classmate Ivy and my friend are the same. My friend told me how she lost her body after drinking a potion. It sounds like the same thing AC tricked you all into drinking. And if both Ivys are the same person, we need her to help us find an antidote.”

  “She won’t be able to help you. She’s asleep, like everyone else in our class—except AC, of course.”

  “Wrong! Did I forget to tell you? AC’s mother told me Ivy woke up! They’re running tests on her at the hospital right now.”

  “Dude, you so did not tell me. But that’s awful!”

  “What? She’s awake. Didn’t you understand me?”

  “The doctors will keep her there forever trying to find a cure for everyone else. They think we all caught some weird virus from the mosquitoes or the water bacteria. They are totally freaking out! When I was still me, before AC tricked me into becoming this bug, I had to wear a stupid white suit every time I wanted to go outside. I mean, have you seen it out there?”

  “No. I haven’t been outside yet,” admitted Angus.

  “The grown-ups are terrified of the standing water. They say there are microbes and deadly bacteria in it. They won’t let us drink glasses of water anymore: They think something will get in there if the glass isn’t covered. Like you can get enough to drink from those stupid straw things. And they’re afraid of the mosquitoes and other bugs that breed in there. So many, you seriously inhale colonies of them when you step outside. We’re supposed to wear ventilators. Or, at least humans are. I guess I don’t have to worry about any of that anymore. You know. Since I’m a freaking bug.”

  “Okay, so that does it. We need Ivy’s help. The doctors don’t know what they’re dealing with,” said Angus.

  “So why don’t you tell them?” asked Billy.

  Angus held up his World Jumper. “Yeah, and I’ll tell them all about parallel worlds while I’m at it. You think any adult is going to believe me? You’re a cockroach who was once a boy, and even you needed some convincing.”

  “Not true. I believed the parallel world part. I just didn’t believe you weren’t AC.”

  “Whatever. The adults won’t believe me. And then there will be another one of us stuck in the hospital. You think they have room in the psych ward?”

  “So what should we do?” asked Billy.

  “Simple. We break Ivy out of the hospital.”

  15

  Cyborgia

  Angus hadn’t planned to spend the night. Back home, he’d told Billy he’d be back in two hours, but by the time he’d finished reading AC’s lab reports and talking with the cockroach, it had been well after midnight. CATT woke him the next morning with a rumble and a bark. Billy begged to go along and Angus needed directions to the hospital anyway, so Angus stuffed the cockroach into his pocket. He ran down the stairs and headed for the door.

  “AC! Is that you? Bring me my oil and a clean rag!” Angus heard his father’s voice calling him from the kitchen.

  “Where is the oil?” Angus whispered to CATT. The robot lurched to one of the gray walls and meowed. “Door,” said Angus, but nothing happened. From his pocket, Angus heard a tiny voice, “Closet,” and the wall opened.

  Inside, Angus saw variously sized white suits, face masks hanging from hooks, three ventilators on a shelf, and some white booties on the floor. CATT clanked into the closet and creaked on to its hind legs. It waved a rubber paw at the upper shelf, then dropped to all fours and yipped.

  “You want me to stand on you? Use you as a footstool?” asked Angus.

  The robot blinked its red eyes at Angus, spread its four legs apart, and braced its head against the wall. Angus stepped on to its back and stretched. He felt a piece of cloth and a tin. He climbed off the robot. “Thanks, CATT.”

  In the kitchen, a tall robot sat in a chair, back turned to Angus. “Ummm ... excuse me,” began Angus.

  “Did you find my oil?” The robot spun around, and Angus gasped. It was a metal man with the face of his father. Angus grabbed a
chair and quickly sat down.

  The robot-father sounded concerned. “What’s wrong son? You went pale there for a moment. Are you feeling okay?”

  Angus stared at his hands squeezed together on the table. He wasn’t sure if he could look at this creature again so soon.

  “Well, can I have the oil?” asked the robot-father. “These knees won’t oil themselves.”

  Angus took a deep breath and faced the man. He was silver from head to toe, except for his face, which was flesh, his torso, which was clad in a college logo t-shirt and shorts, and one of his ears. His hand shook as he gave AC’s father the tin of oil and the cloth.

  The man squirted some oil on the cloth, unscrewed his left leg at the knee, removed a rubber gasket, and began oiling the metal thread.

  “Darn tennis. Ruined my knees. Elbows too,” said the robot.

  “And your hands?”

  “Too many pushups. And a touch of arthritis.” His father’s face looked at him. “You want me to go through the parts again? We haven’t done that since you were a little boy.”

  Angus gulped. “Sure,” he said.

  The robot-man tapped his head. “Skull, football concussion.” He pulled an ear. “Eardrums, drum corps. Steel for better sound conductivity. Neck, hands, ankles, back, all arthritis. And you know about the knees and elbows.”

  He screwed his left knee back on and began oiling his right.

  “Had my first implant in college. Fifty-six implants and upgrades so far.” He grinned. “Got all my original teeth though. How many of your friend’s dads can say that?”

  He screwed his right knee back on and pushed up from the table.

  “Late start today,” he said. “You do your online school while I’m at work. Don’t need you falling behind just because school’s closed.”

  The mother’s eyes entered the kitchen. She followed moments after.

  “Honey, I can hear you clanking all the way upstairs. Did you remember to replace your cartilage before you screwed your knees back on?”

  “The way this woman can hear!” said AC’s father proudly. “You’d think she had upgraded ears as well as eyes!” He kissed her cheek. “The rubber is wearing down. I need to pick up some replacements after work. Did you get my biohazard suit dry-cleaned?”

  “Yesterday,” said AC’s mother. “AC, did you take your supplement? Grab it, and then I want you to do your schoolwork.”

  “But, I had plans ...” began Angus. The crazy eyes began to swirl. “I guess they can wait.”

  Billy chirped in his pocket.

  Angus stood on the gray porch in front of the gray house and swatted a cloud of mosquitoes away from his face.

  A gray driveway led to a gray street. Brackish water pooled on the flexible gray ground. Mosquitoes and gnats buzzed in columns. If not for the gray stretching in every direction, he might have thought he was in the Florida Everglades; the swarms of mosquitoes were so thick.

  Angus slapped at a persistent insect and looked at the gray fences dividing gray yards from those attached to other gray houses. In some places, the gray surface had been damaged and weeds and grass sprouts poked through. There was gray as far as he could see.

  “What’s with all this gray stuff?” asked Angus. “It’s everywhere you look. Where are all the bushes and flowers? The grass? The trees?”

  There was a scrabbling in the pocket of his lab coat, and two antennae poked out.

  “Right over there, dude. There’s a park across the street.”

  Angus saw a geometric pattern of dwarf trees protruding like sculptures from a central location not far from the house. That was a park? He’d seen more trees at the mall.

  “You want to climb up on my shoulder? Tell me where I’m going?” asked Angus.

  Billy ran up Angus’s shirt and perched on his shoulder. He pointed his antennae like arrows.

  “Turn left at the end of the driveway.”

  Angus set off, bouncing down the gray driveway. “Why is it so springy?”

  “Why is what so springy?”

  “The ground. Everything. It’s gray, it moves. And the windows. They’re not made of glass. They’re stretchy. What is this stuff?”

  “Dude, it’s the ground. What are you asking?”

  It suddenly occurred to Angus that this world was normal to Billy. Billy had nothing else to compare it to. He’d ask Ivy.

  “Never mind,” said Angus. After a moment, “What’s up with AC’s dad? He’s so ... weird looking. And AC’s mom? Those bizarre eyes?”

  “At the end of the street, you want to turn left again,” said the cockroach. “Well, his dad told you about all his injuries, all the implants. And his mom? I think she was near-sighted or far-sighted or something. I don’t remember.”

  “But the robot parts? Do your parents have those, too?”

  “My mom has knee implants. Most of the adults do after a while. Some of the moms have hands, most of the grandparents do. I think that’s after they get arthritis or something. Ivy’s mom started to go bald, not cool for a lady, so she got a scalp implant. That’s pretty cool. You’ve got to see her hair sometimes, especially when it rains. My dad has a metal lung. The polymer factory wasn’t well-ventilated early on, so he developed a lung condition.”

  “What about the kids? Do any of you have metal parts?”

  “A few. Not so many. Mostly eyes. Your parents, I mean AC’s parents, are thinking of getting him a pair. But implants are expensive, and your original parts don’t usually wear out until you’re older. Unless you hurt yourself.”

  Angus thought about how AC’s mother had acted when she had seen him standing on that chair.

  “Do people hurt themselves a lot?”

  “Well, my grandfather says kids today are soft. That the grownups overprotect them with everything. Turn right.”

  “How much farther?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never walked there. A ways. But my dad says that spare parts, implants, all the upgrades—they’re expensive.”

  “But ... everything here is soft. Look!” Angus threw himself at the ground. He bounced, as he knew he would.

  The cockroach scrabbled around the side of his neck. “What did you do that for? I could have fallen off!”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re a cockroach. The tarsus on your feet are like hooks. You can walk upside down on ceilings; you certainly wouldn’t fall off my shirt. But look. I fell, and I’m fine. No injuries. How could anyone hurt themselves here?”

  “People get hurt here. Look at all the adults.”

  “Cyborgs,” said Angus. “This is a world of cyborgs.”

  “What are cyborgs?” asked Billy.

  “A living being that is half-person, half-machine. In movies and books, cyborgs are super cool. But here ... in your world ... cyborgs are ...”

  “Mom. Dad. Grandma and Grandpa. All the old people,” said Billy. “Don’t the adults in your world get upgrades?”

  “No. They get aches and pains,” said Angus. “We get hurt and we heal. My grandma says what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

  “That sounds awful. I wouldn’t want to have aches and pains,” said the cockroach.

  “Me neither. It’s a fact of life though.”

  “Not here,” said Billy.

  Angus thought a moment. “You know, I always thought it would be cool to be a cyborg. But, I didn’t realize how boring it would be if everyone else was, too. Your world, it’s like a boring cyborg suburbia.”

  “Turn left,” said the cockroach.

  “Cyborgia,” said Angus. “From pirates to mastodons to cyborgs.” He began to giggle.

  “What is with you, dude?” asked Billy.

  “My mom and dad as cyborgs.” He laughed harder. “It’s completely ridiculous!” He snorted.

  “Hey, watch out!” The cockroach darted down Angus’s shirt and disappeared into his pocket.

  Angus hooted as he remembered how insane those mom-eyes were. He was laughing loudly, the g
ray surface muffled street sounds, and the hydrogen-powered cars in this world ran silently. The combination of all three meant that Angus didn’t realize a car had been following him until it passed and skidded to a stop in front of him. Water dripped from the vehicle and pooled in the flexible street creating yet another breeding spot for mosquitoes.

  The car door flew open, and a large figure clothed from head to toe in white protective gear and wearing an artificial respirator grabbed Angus’s arm and dragged him to the vehicle. Angus was brutishly shoved into the back seat, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  16

  The Ferry

  The family van screeched into the garage and Mr. Clark threw open the door.

  “I’ll grab the gear! Why don’t you pack our clothes? If we hurry, we can catch the four o’clock ferry.”

  Mrs. Clark stalked into the house without a word. AC followed her inside. She glanced quickly at him.

  “It will be a few days until we have a decent bath. Why don’t you climb in there quickly? I’ll throw some clothes into a bag for you.”

  AC was a clean and neat boy: His mother had taught him from an early age the value of personal hygiene. “Yes, Mother,” he said easily, but Mrs. Clark had already disappeared up the stairs.

  In AC’s world, it was easy to be clean. You stepped into the bathroom and locked the door. You removed your clothing and placed them in the laundry chute that sent them to the washerbot to be washed, sterilized, dried, and pressed while you bathed. Because humans in his world knew about the microbes and larvae that lived and bred in standing water, they had developed a sonic shower head.

  Shaped like the shower heads of old that sprayed water, the sonic shower heads emitted a sonic pulse that killed bacteria on human skin. No soap and water needed. Shampoo was a thing of the past also; to wash hair, you need only increase the frequency on the sonic shower head. AC used to enjoy his baths. By the time he’d placed the shower head back in its handy charging holster, his clothes would be warm with the scent of clean.

  He stepped into the Clark’s bathroom and removed his clothes. He wasn’t sure which one of these devices was the chute. A wicker basket stood in one corner, but it didn’t appear to be attached to anything. He’d already discovered how the toilet worked, and except for a few rugs and wall hangings, there was nothing else here except for one small and one large porcelain basin.