by Amber Stuart
They began to walk, and Chal found herself feeling much more alert as the sun began to rise and warm the desert valley. The gully receded behind them, ahead a low plain of dunes stretching out for what seemed like forever. The white sand bloomed with red and orange haloes as the sun rose, and Chal saw the faint tracks of a small creature, a jackrabbit perhaps. She followed the tracks with her eyes until they ran off in a different direction and were lost in the hills.
Lost. That’s how Chal felt as soon as they got away from the plane. Looking back, all she could see was a gleam of silver amid the desert dust and rocks. She wished they had had time to cover the plane, or to camouflage it somehow. Now all they could hope for was that they would outrun the men who were sure to be on their tail as soon as they regrouped and realized that the two of them had gone missing.
Would they even care about Chal? She knew a lot of information that shouldn’t be leaked to the outside world, and she had no idea how important she was to the military, or if they even cared about her now that Alan was gone.
She was lost in her thoughts when she walked right into the path of a rattlesnake. She didn’t hear the snake until she was almost atop it, and then she looked down to see the flash of dusty copper scales forming itself into a recognizable coil. The snake’s spaded head reared back, its rattle shaking angrily.
“Whoa,” she said, frozen in place. Reptiles never bothered Chal, but she knew enough to be frightened by a disturbed rattler. If the snake bit her right now, she would never make it. Chal tried to stand stock still, willing the snake to go away and leave her alone. Her balance was shaky, though, and she shifted her weight on her legs, loosening a few pebbles underfoot. The snake hissed, baring its fangs.
BANG! The shot rang out from behind Chal and the snake fell over at the same moment the noise reached her ears. Its head had been blown clean off, the spray of blood darkening the dust of the playa floor. Chal watched the blood seep from the snake’s neck, filling the dusty cracks of the earth.
Alan lowered the barrel of his gun. She realized there was fear in his eyes, fear for her.
“I should have seen it,” Alan said. “I wasn’t paying attention, I was lost in thought. I should have seen it.”
“I didn’t see it either,” Chal said. “Where did you get that gun?”
“It was in the pack,” Alan said, tucking the gun back under his belt. Chal shivered, although the sun was quickly warming the desert.
“Don’t worry,” Alan said, as if he had read her mind. “It’s safe.”
A second passed and Chal remembered something.
“You’re not supposed to harm anything,” she said.
Alan looked up and Chal saw a flash of guilt in his eyes.
“I’m not?”
“I thought...” Chal said, trailing off. They had made him able to harm other beings. But not humans.
Alan paused, waiting for her to resume her train of thought.
“Do you think it’s wrong to kill humans?” Chal asked.
“Of course,” Alan answered.
“Why?”
“Because human life is sacred,” Alan answered with certainty.
“And animal life?”
Alan paused again, thinking. Chal saw a thought cross his mind, and then he shook his head.
“It’s not...” Alan said, trailing off.
“It’s not the same?”
“It was you,” Alan said, his voice careful. “You were in danger. I had to help.”
Chal frowned.
“What are you thinking about?” Alan asked.
“Nothing,” Chal said. She wiped the expression off of her face. He didn’t need to know about her concerns.
“I think about it too,” Alan said.
“About what?”
“What they did. What they put in here.” He tapped his head. “I want to learn more about it. Everything you know.”
Chal wanted to put her arms around him, to comfort him.
“Okay,” she said.
“Not now,” Alan said. “But later. You’ll tell me?”
“I’ll tell you,” Chal said.
She wished that she had seen the code that had programmed him so that she could console him truthfully. But she did not know what they had put in. She was learning about his preprogrammed capabilities alongside him, and the deeper parts of his brain were still a mystery to her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right.” - Psalms 139:14
***
They walked on. The sun rose quickly in the sky and the heat followed soon after. In the early morning the dunes had been bearable, even pretty in places, but now that the sun was reflected off of the white sand Chal hated every footstep. Her throat burned with thirst, and after ten miles of walking she found herself having to push herself not to scrape her feet along the sand. They were heading up the side of one dune when she decided she had to rest.
The hill was so steep that she would step up two feet and slide back one on the soft sand, and the slow going made her seethe with frustration. Alan seemed to be able to adjust his weight effortlessly to avoid sliding, but Chal found herself clamoring along, her feet slipping until she had almost fallen over.
She fell to her knees without crying out, simply sitting down when she could not take it anymore.
“Chal?” Alan stopped just in front of her. She wished that he would stand on the other side so that his figure would block out the sun. It was so hot.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just need to sit for a bit.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling down with the packs. “I forgot—I should have known--”
“Should have known that I’m a weakling,” Chal laughed. God, her throat burned. “I need some water.”
Alan took the water out of one of the packs, frowning all the while in self-admonishment.
“We should both drink.” He gave her the canteen first. The sips of water were deliciously cool. The canteen tasted slightly metallic but the water was still cold from the morning. Water spilled over her parched lips and she licked at her lips, swallowing gratefully.
“When are you going to need to sleep?” Chal asked.
Alan shook his head. “Not sure. Not for a while. I feel strong.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Chal said.
Alan was looking at her injury. “I can carry you.”
“No,” Chal said. She pushed herself up, her feet sliding down another foot in the dunes. Another foot to climb. She willed herself to be strong.
“Are we going the right way?” she asked. She knew they were, but didn’t want to talk about her weakness, didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she was not as strong as he was.
“We’re about a quarter of the way there,” Alan said.
“Then let’s get going,” Chal said. She felt better. They had made quite a bit of progress, after all. It would be sundown again tomorrow before they arrived at their destination. If they arrived at their destination.
They walked another hour. The ground underneath them changed to hard, cracked playa, then back again to soft dunes. The colors of the earth changed too, the white sand swathed with red stripes where there were iron deposits. They were silent as they walked, preserving their energy.
Another hour passed, then another. They rested briefly under a rocky outcropping where Alan divided up the food from the pack – a couple of hard protein bars washed down with the water that was now more than lukewarm. It didn’t matter to Chal.
She looked out at the desert before them. In every direction the dunes marched on, and at that moment she felt as though they would be wandering there forever, cursed to live in the bone dryness. This was what hell would be like.
Not fire and brimstone, no, nothing so obvious, not like what the priests used to warn her about. Not devils with pitchfor
ks but this. A desolate landscape that didn’t care if you fell down and died, a landscape that would swallow you up into its heat and bleach your bones and not care at all, not even a little, about the sufferings you endured.
“What are you thinking about?” Alan asked.
“The desert,” Chal said.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Alan asked.
Chal looked curiously at him. “What makes it beautiful?”
Alan smiled, his eyes absently sweeping across the dunes.
“The patterns the wind makes on the sand,” he said. “It’s never quite the same. They are beautiful, aren’t they?”
Chal looked out at the desert. It was just sand. She shook her head.
“Not a romantic, are you?”
Chal laughed out loud. It was ridiculous. An artificial intelligence berating her for not being romantic!
“That’s ridiculous,” she said.
“Ridiculous?”
“Are you really a romantic?” Chal asked.
“I don’t know,” Alan said wistfully. “I think so.”
“Why would the military have put that into your brain?”
“I don’t know.”
“Romantics aren’t exactly known for their love of war.”
“Then maybe they didn’t put it there,” Alan said. “Maybe that’s just the way I was born.”
“You were made,” Chal said. It was the exact wrong thing to say, and she knew it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Alan stood up abruptly and slung the packs over his shoulders. His face was blank, expressionless.
“I didn’t mean--” Chal said, but didn’t know how to finish. She stood up and walked after Alan. He moved mechanically up the side of the dune and she scrambled to follow him. He stopped at the top, looking out into the distance, and she came up beside him. He made as though to continue on, but she took his arm.
“I’m sorry,” Chal said.
“For what?”
“For saying what I did. For hurting your feelings.”
“Why?” Alan said. “It doesn’t matter.”
At that moment, Chal felt that the paradox she had been living in was shattered. She had known—intellectually, logically known—that Alan was not a normal human, and although she had felt stirrings of human connection between them she had not been prepared to acknowledge him as an equal. A child, yes, someone who relied upon her and was dependent for every need, mental or physical. Now the tables had turned, and she was the one who was clutching to Alan in desperation.
Now she realized how much he had come to mean.
“Of course it matters,” Chal said.
“Do you think I’m a person?” Alan said. He turned to her.
“I don’t know,” Chal said honestly. “I think so, yes. As much of a person as I am.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“I can’t be sure of anything,” Chal said. “I don’t know what it’s like to be you.”
“Then I might be nothing,” Alan said. “Just a programmed machine with organic parts.”
“True,” Chal said. “But we’re all programmed in a way. It’s impossible to say if you’re different. Just because of how your brain grew...”
“How did it grow?” Alan asked. His tone had turned soft. “You said you would tell me.”
“Okay,” Chal said. “I’ll tell you.”
They began to walk again while Chal explained to him the delayed brain development, the digital implant that guided the neurons’ growth, enhancing certain traits, implanting him with language. This was work that fascinated Chal, and she went on for a while before she realized she had been talking nonstop.
“It’s very complicated,” she said. “But whatever they did to you, whatever they implanted, you’ll find out sooner or later. How to fly a plane. Shoot a gun. It’s no different from an amnesia patient learning what their life is about.”
“No different, huh?” Alan smirked.
“Well. Maybe a little different. Just in how you got to this point. Your future’s your own.”
Alan thought on this.
“I suppose I shouldn’t care one way or the other,” he said. “But for whatever reason, I do.”
“The dunes,” Chal said, waving her hand out in the sunlight. “You think they’re beautiful.”
Alan nodded slowly.
“You’re more of a person than I am, maybe,” she said. “I didn’t bother to notice any of that.”
“But do you see it now?” Alan said. There was a plaintive note in his voice.
“The dunes?”
“The dunes,” Alan repeated, turning back toward the high sandy berms. “They are beautiful, aren’t they? I’m not just crazy?”
Chal shaded her eyes and looked out at the desert. The ridges of the dunes were sharp lines of light and dark, the red and white sand laced like a paper doily. She saw the patterns he was talking about, the curves of colored sand rippling out over the rolling surface of the desert. As she was watching, a gust of wind swept the ridge away, crumbling it into a cloud of sand that rolled over the dune, changing it with a broad sweep of miniscule particles.
“You’re not crazy,” she said.
“And the fact that you’re worried about being crazy means you’re definitely a real person.”
Alan chuckled.
Chal was thirsty, her throat parched with grit and sand. She was tired, and hurt, and for the past few hours had been thinking of nothing but the small village they were heading toward and how nice it would be to finally arrive. But as she looked out across the desert, she felt herself grow bigger with awe. The dunes were beautiful, their lines stretching out in the casual fling of wind and stone.
She had not seen them because she had had her eyes on other things. Things that weren’t even there. She breathed easier as she walked now.
“It is beautiful,” she said. “The whole desert. Truly amazing.”
“I think you’re just teasing me now,” Alan said, but she could see that he was pleased. Then he did something that nearly stopped her heart.
He reached out and took her hand.
She was startled by the gesture and lost her stride, stumbling slightly in the dunes. He waited for her to regain her balance and they walked on over the ridgeline, hand in hand.
His palm was smooth and warm, his pace slow enough for her to keep up. The small slips and stumbles that befell her were caught up by his strong grasp, and Chal soon grew accustomed to leaning on him for support during the tricky paths that wound around the blunt edges of the dunes. As they walked on Chal realized that Alan was no longer paying attention to anything but the desert horizon. When they came down into the valleys of the dunes his eyes would fix themselves on the high ridge in front of them, but along the tops of the dunes he looked far ahead into the dusty blue sky.
She watched with him and saw the desert as it really was, not barren at all but fully alive. The sand which lay before them was not an obstacle to be overcome, no, not even a hard journey to be endured. This—this!—was life, part of the universe which encompassed all things, Chal and Alan both.
It was some hours before they had to rest, and when they did they were silent. There was nothing they had to speak of that the desert did not already say.
Chal tried to push herself to keep going, but an hour or so after sundown she stumbled and did not regain her balance easily.
“Let’s rest here,” Alan said. Chal could not protest; she did not have the energy. She lay down on her side in the sand, the dunes sloping up gently to either side of her, and exhaustion took her over. Alan lay next to her, sliding his arm around her back.
“Alan—”
“It’s cold,” he said. His breath was hot on her neck. “We’ll need the warmth.”
“Yes.” It was nice to be so warm. His strong arms entwined themselves around her, cradling her against his chest. She felt happy.
***
&nbs
p; “Breakfast?”
Alan held up the canteen of water, a huge grin spreading over his face. The world skipped into a pause as Chal’s heart vibrated, plucked by the picture of innocence that lay before her eyes. They didn’t have any food left, and still miles to go with their remaining resources. Chal should have been frightened.
And yet—yet when she looked at him, she was not frightened at all. Just being near him made this whole ordeal feel like more of an adventure. With Alan around this was all a game, just another obstacle or three to jump over for fun. She wondered at his optimism, and how he had rekindled that feeling inside of her.
Perhaps it was that growing up in the world was so hard to do without losing innocence. His face was the picture of it, his features boyish, and oh—his smile! The grin wrinkled the corners of his eyes and gave him his sincerity as he reached out and handed her the canteen.
It was this quality of his that drew her to him: that, apart from everything he was built to do, apart from all of the wiring they had done in his brain, that in this unconscious way he should be so kind. It was this kindness that melted her resistance to everything he represented. Representation was not reality, and sometimes there was more to a man than his circuitry and chemicals would lead you to believe. It was the thing of the universe.
They walked on like two explorers into lands unknown.
Hours later, they still trudged wearily across the desert floor. There was more foliage around, but they had not yet come across water of any kind. Chal marveled at the way the shrubs managed to claw their way up onto a boulder, taking refuge in the shadows of a rocky crag, collecting dew with their leaves in the morning and turning toward the sun during the day.
There was a buzzing sound in the far off distance.
“Do you hear that?” Chal said. Alan nodded. He had heard it just as Chal did. They both turned to find the source of the sound.