Blaze

by Mara, Alex

  Scarlet—or at least, her identical model—appeared above me, this one stripped entirely of clothing.

  She rotated in the air, and that same deep, seductive voice explained all the parts of her that differed from male anatomy. The breasts, the clitoris, the vagina. She had various erogenous zones: the neck, the décolletage, behind the knees.

  The module progressed to techniques, the simulated female and my own likeness playing out various scenarios on the telescreen. A bar, a bedroom. I needed to hunt for her, to make her feel claimed. But I had to lure her, too, until she would very nearly ravish me if I didn’t do so first.

  Each woman was different, so I would need to discover how each one reacted by trying all the erogenous zones. I’d have to experiment with touch and speech and the push and pull of desire.

  I watched with impassive grace, my brain absorbing the knowledge as she offered it. The capsule sensed this—my body’s lack of reaction—and the model shifted to a different woman.

  This one was raven-haired, shorter, curvier, and maybe some part of me would have been attracted to her—another version of me—but it was too late for her and this iteration of me.

  By the time we reached the real training, the capsule’s AI had zeroed in on what I wanted, probing my brain. Just in time for me to learn about lovemaking.

  The woman above me was perfect. She was an unclothed Darcy West. I felt my body reacting as soon as I saw her face; it wasn’t something I could control.

  When the visor lowered over my eyes and the simulation began, I knew exactly what would happen: in this simulation I would make love to Darcy, learn the curves of her body, and I would know her without ever really knowing her.

  It was wrong, a violation. But I burned for her. I would go soon, anyway, and I just wanted to know—just this once.

  She straddled my chest, leaned forward so her breasts touched my chest, and her ghostlike lips came over mine, fluttering with unreal softness.

  They parted, and my tongue slipped buttery into her mouth along with a groan. She felt so good, and I knew half of it was my imagination.

  But my imagination was electrifying.

  I stroked the length of her bare arm, raising the fine hairs from her shoulder to her elbow. She shivered, and our kissing became more intense, my hands exploring her back and hips.

  I bucked against her, my erection hot and wanting, and at once she sat up, her hands braced on my chest.

  She smiled, and I saw that goodness again. Even the simulation of her carried whispers of it.

  She stroked my length, and I closed my eyes into her touch. I bucked hard, and just like that, she settled atop me. I felt almost ill, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  From tip to base, her velvet warmth encircled me like a glove. I groaned; the pleasure was greater than I’d even imagined, than I could have hoped.

  She was a simulation. She wasn’t real. In reality, I knew I stood a good chance of being recycled in a few days, within the week at the outside, and even for an infiltrator—especially for an infiltrator—that was a hard reality to accept.

  We were designed to survive, to overcome anything. I could feel every impulse in me surging, seeking life, vitality.

  And, for a moment, I remembered the signs of desire I’d seen on her face, in her motions as she passed me in the hallway. As she evaluated me in her office.

  She’d wanted me. That had been real.

  The knowledge made me weak, and Darcy’s lips had parted, her eyes full on me. Asking me, begging me. Her breasts pressed together between her arms, her hands resting on my chest.

  When I reached up to touch the line from her belly button to her cleavage, she smiled down at me. Darcy wanted me.

  And for ten glorious minutes, she was mine.

  After her, I didn't know how I'd ever complete the seduction training when the second module required me to be with a woman. A real woman. A woman who wasn't the one I wanted.

  "A preview of the next part of the seduction module," Scarlet had said. Did that mean I would have to be with her? I wouldn't be able to do it.

  But maybe there was another way.

  * * *

  5:01 p.m.

  Something had changed. When Scarlet and the six of us returned to the sleeping room after our seduction training, the rest of the infiltrators had gathered in a circle around someone. I just couldn't tell who.

  The funny thing about a room full of newborn clones: it's just about impossible for anyone but the clones themselves to tell who's who. We spent all our time together, and we quickly found ways of distinguishing ourselves.

  That was how I spotted 8023 as he stepped into the circle. He had a certain imperfection in his legs—one must have been a fraction of a fraction longer than the other—which made every step into the barest misstep.

  It was only something we could tell. We slept, trained, ate, fought with each other. For us, those minor distinctions became the most obvious differences.

  So when 8023 stepped forward with that just-barely-odd gait and raised his left arm straight out to touch the shoulder of the infiltrator at the center, I knew it was him.

  Just as I knew, coming closer, that the infiltrator whose shoulder he'd touched was 8013. I'd seen the scab at his neck from where I'd nicked him.

  And crossing to stand beside him, Scarlet. "8024 went a bit long in the seduction training module," she whispered at 8013, though her lips were easy enough to read. She turned to the rest of us. "But I'm glad to be here to commemorate the occasion. As you all know, I've recommended 8013's promotion to Gale status."

  Jealousy, I thought. She wanted us jealous and competitive.

  Her hand went to 8013's forearm, brushed it. And beside her, he stood with his hands folded so tight his knuckles had gone white.

  His face spoke of pride, but there was something else, too, that I'd seen a brief hint of in the mess. He didn't look happy as, one by one, they came up, touched his shoulder. In unguarded moments, 8013 looked savage, severe. Tortured.

  Nonetheless, his hand went out to each infiltrator's opposite shoulder as they congratulated him—a sign of equality.

  Or at least pretend-equality, I thought. Though I knew she didn't want equality between us. Not really. She wanted aggressiveness, plays for status and standing. We were independent agents, loyal only to a single operator. That was how we'd been programmed, after all.

  Watching him, I sensed 8013 both wanted this and yet he didn't. He hated this place, these people, but he'd done what he had to. He'd survived long enough to gain the status of his jailors, and he'd done it ruthlessly. He was still ruthless, but now he had some power.

  Scarlet was staring at me now. It seemed I was the only one who hadn't touched 8013's shoulder.

  "Congratulations, 8013," I said, passing the whole ground as I made for my sleeping capsule.

  "8024," Scarlet's voice rang out. "That is not how we show goodwill."

  I stopped, my eyes on the carapace of my capsule. I could keep walking. I could pretend, despite my extrasensory hearing, I hadn't heard her.

  But I heard Darcy's voice in my ear, like an angel of reason. "Just do it," Darcy whispered. "She'll come after you harder if you don't."

  Or maybe she'll come after me harder if I kowtow, I thought.

  After a moment, I turned back toward Scarlet and 8013. When I stepped forward, the circle of clones parted for me.

  I approached him and set my fingertips at his shoulder, but he didn't follow protocol of setting the opposite hand at my shoulder. Instead, he only grimace-smiled in that wolfish way I'd come to despise.

  He was telling me we weren't equals. Not anymore. But he was wrong.

  I knew he had forced the other infiltrators to test me. He had killed 8014, 8015, and 8016. I knew he would be responsible for any shit that was going to go down between now and then, and I knew it would all be endorsed by Scarlet, who had eagle eyes except when it came to the hot ones and their hyper-aggression.

  I could be
hyper-aggressive, too. Just not indiscriminately.

  "Congratulations, 8013." I lowered my voice to a whisper only he could hear. "Does that mean you get a real name now?"

  A flicker of heat touched 8013's face before that smile coalesced again. He didn't lower his voice. "I do have a name, 8024. Or didn't you know?"

  "That's right," Scarlet said. "All of you will call 8013 'Gale' from here on," Her eyes passing over the assembled infiltrators.

  "Original," I murmured.

  8013's green eyes were intense, lit. And when I glanced over at Scarlet, I saw cruel pride in her face. She loved the rivalries. The loathing. The competition.

  That was why she'd become a Scarlet. That was why there was an 8013 and an 8024. Probably there had been dozens of rivalries like ours before we'd existed.

  Because we were infiltrators. Assassins. Loyal only to the Ides facility and to no one but ourselves. Especially not each other.

  What this Scarlet and 8013 didn't know was that I wasn't loyal to Ides or to myself above all.

  I was loyal to Darcy West. She was the best thing in this hell.

  And before I ended up recycled or gunned down by this new Gale—one or the other was inevitable—I was going to find her. And I was going to convince her to escape with me.

  Nine

  Wednesday, May 6, 2053

  5:45pm

  Darcy

  Across from me, Terrell forked lines through his mashed potatoes. He had a way of playing with his food when he was in deep thought that chafed me, but he was a good listener, my only friend among the staff who told it to me like it was.

  Funny that, of all people to do so, it would be a lab assistant. Sometimes the best people were the ones you were too self-absorbed to notice.

  Terrell's fork stopped, and he blinked, staring at his tray. A thought was percolating.

  I knew I was right when he glanced around the mess. Only another pair of researchers sat at the far table, both of them hunched over their trays. “You didn’t do anything different with this one?” he asked finally, twisting his fork, bringing up a small mound of potato.

  I couldn’t tell if his face was red beneath his freckles because of our conversation or because he was always a little red.

  “Nothing. Nada,” I said, dropping my spoon into my empty fruit cup. The sweet juice sprayed onto my tray.

  “And he gave himself a nickname,” he said again.

  “Like I said: I called him that without thinking. It was just a quick joke when he was on the treadmill.”

  “Curious,” Terrell said. “And then he just shut down when you intimated he’d be recycled during his psych evaluation.”

  “He hasn’t so much as set a toe out of line since then.” Even for a clone designed for assassination, his ability to morph into someone else was uncanny.

  And though I wouldn’t admit it to Terrell, I felt a strange regret that the real Blaze was now tucked beneath the veneer of 8024. I missed his authentic way of talking, of moving, of challenging me with his questions.

  I missed the way he’d lit me up in my office yesterday.

  “This could be good for our work, Darcy. We’ve been looking for the perfect physical machine, but if we can make him loyal to us, 8024 could be better than what we’ve been trying to build. He’s a critical thinker. Sure, infiltrators can escape a trap, but can they devise one on the fly? When it comes to it, will they do the right thing?”

  The right thing. I wasn’t sure I knew what that was, given the business we were in. “I already made that argument to Ides,” I said. “He's unconvinced, but he gave me a few days to see this one through seduction training.”

  Terrell leveled his eyes on me. "Isn't that a bit quick? I thought those modules came at the end of the first week."

  "They do. Ides is giving 8024 less than a week."

  "He's done it on purpose, you think," Terrell said. "Because Ides wants him to fail."

  This was why Terrell was my best friend in this place; he was always a few steps ahead in our conversations.

  I exhaled through my nose, leaned close to him. Even then, I barely did more than mouth my words. "I don't think he wants us to succeed anymore. At all."

  Terrell narrowed his eyes. "I told you: megalomaniacal."

  I closed my eyes. "Not megalomaniacal. I don't know, but he's definitely lost sight of things. You were right years ago. To be honest, I was hesitant to believe you because you were just a new lab assistant and I'd been here doing the work so long, but most of all..."

  "You want to save your sister." Terrell's face showed compassion.

  Tears hit the backs of my eyes. Most of all, I hadn't wanted to believe him, because if I had, it would mean the ethical nature of my work would be even more in question.

  It might mean I wasn't even really helping Zara—and everyone else in Beacon—so much as I was hurting hundreds and thousands of people below ground. I speared a piece of broccoli with my fork and shoved it into my mouth.

  "I do too, West. All I want is to get out of here and back to my wife. But we have to do what we're down here to do in order for us to have anyone—anything—to go back to in Beacon."

  I didn't even need to acknowledge he was correct. He was, of course, and so a silence fell between us I chewed my broccoli and Terrell forked his potatoes into pretty lines.

  I thought of Beacon, and my parents and the last time I had seen my mother almost two decades ago. She'd been disappointed in me for not helping Zara with her hair. She'd always had such long hair, prone to tangles.

  "Do you think he'll pass?" Terrell was asking.

  I blinked, refocused. "Who'll pass?"

  "8024. The seduction module."

  I nodded, and a pang hit me as the image of him with his Scarlet appeared in my mind. I ignored it. "Yes—he's more than capable. And he indicated to me he would do what he needed to do in order to stay under the radar."

  "But you think Ides will have him recycled anyway."

  "He's too different. Ides doesn't like his self-awareness, and it's going to show through in one way or another. I can already tell 8024 hates what we do down here.”

  "'Hates?'” Terrell asked, lines appearing in the freckles on his forehead. "They never had childhoods, or real love. Everything they feel is an imitation, based on a training. They don't have real emotions. ”

  I half-shook my head. "Well, this one does. I think."

  "Are you sure, Darcy? That would be..."

  "I know," I said. "It's remarkable."

  Terrell leaned forward, both hands gripping the metal edges of his tray. “You have to change Ides’s mind. You can’t just recycle this one.”

  His words struck me between the ribs. “I’m not recycling him—Ides is. I have no choice, Terrell. You don’t know what he's like.”

  “You don’t have to clean up after his sessions with the female infiltrators,” he said, shuddering. “Half the time I don’t know whether I’m mopping lab chemicals or bodily fluids.”

  As he said it, the memory of my conversation with Ides in the greenhouse dome came back to me. I had to meet with him in his cabin. I stared at the remnants of my tomato soup, pushed it aside. “I know,” I said. “He’s disgusting.”

  “West, listen to me,” Terrell said, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping a few notches. I looked around; a trio of research assistants now occupied the far table, but they were more interested in their game of cards than us. “This is totally crazy, but what if we got 8024 out? We can keep Ides out of the loop."

  My mouth dropped open, and I laughed. But Terrell didn’t.

  He was serious.

  “Shit, Terrell. How?”

  "Gag him or something. I don't know."

  "And then what?"

  "And then we go all ninja secret spy and break Blaze out."

  I raised an eyebrow. "First of all, gagging Ides isn't going to go unnoticed on the cameras. Plus, he's going to be pretty upset about it once he gets free.”

  "Wha
t if we can do it without the cameras noticing and without him realizing?"

  "Then we'd be magicians."

  "Or a lab assistant and a scientist," he said, his fork swinging between the two of us. He mimed lifting something, putting it to his lips and swinging his head back. When I didn't say anything, he kept at it, his gesticulations growing more pronounced.

  "What the hell are you doing, Mike?" I finally asked.

  His hands dropped, and he let a profound sigh as he leaned toward me. "That's him drinking. We drug him, Darcy, and then we break Blaze out."

  “8024,” I corrected. “And you do realize just talking about this is mutiny. Why do you want this so badly, Mike? It puts your whole career at risk."

  “We can’t risk losing this one, Darcy," Terrell said. "What if he’s the key? We might not have five more years at this, and for me, this is as much about saving Laura as it is about you saving Zara."

  I cringed at the reminder. Aboveground, they were waiting for us. Laura, Terrell's wife. Zara, my sister. Her face appeared in my mind. Last time I’d seen her, she’d been going through an episode, coughing more often than she wasn’t.

  I needed to provide a world in which she could have a future. And the infiltrator model was my best chance of doing that.

  Of course, what Terrell was proposing was insane. If we were caught, we’d both be dead. Hell, we might even end up in the recycling room ourselves. No one had ever helped an infiltrator escape.

  Correct that: no one had ever successfully helped one escape. Often it was the Gales making deals—protection above ground, something like that—but those guards always disappeared by the next day.

  Probably the guard to blame for Monday’s escapade was already gone. And we could be, too.

  But Terrell was right, of course: we were running out of time. In every way.

  "Well?" he was saying.

  "You think we should drug Ides," I said.

  "It would be more mercy than he shows those female clones. I just need to figure out something potent enough that he won't notice..."