tmp0

by user

  “Are you alright?” Chal asked. “Are you injured?”

  Alan shook his head, but he was already falling sideways into a control panel. Chal pulled him back, and his head bobbed gruesomely to one side before finally flopping over onto his shoulder.

  “Alan?” Chal’s voice was strained with worry. She opened one of Alan’s eyes to check for signs of trauma. Please, don’t let him be in a coma, she thought. Please don’t let him have a concussion. Please no internal bleeding. And please, oh please, any of these rather than that he were dead. Please don’t let him be dead.

  “Not dead,” Chal said, after a brief look under Alan’s eyelids. “Not dead. He’s not dead, Chal.” She leaned back in the cockpit and looked up at the stars overhead. Her seat was tilted sideways and she slid sideways, her head lolling against the seatbelt.

  “Not dead,” she repeated, letting her forehead rest for one moment against the strap. “Just sleeping.”

  “Just sleeping,” she murmured, and the words had not yet wafted off of her tongue before she fell into deep, dreamless sleep. Overhead the light from stars millions of years ago continued their race through the galaxy to no particular purpose or end.

  Chal’s eyes were closed, but the heavens kept on shining as they had for millennia. They shone for the rocks and the coyotes and all of the small slitherings in the night desert.

  ***

  When Chal woke a few hours later, the sky was losing its last bits of darkness in the west. In the east, beyond the dunes and low mesas of the desert country, a light blush of grey began to paint itself across the sky. It was sunrise.

  Chal blinked her eyes and looked around. Her breath whitened the chilly air, puffs coming out through her slightly open mouth as though she was enjoying a cigar. She brought her hands out from where they had been clasped under her legs for warmth. All of her back and neck muscles were tense with the cold, and her joints ached.

  The half-shattered cockpit glass twinkled overhead, casting a thousand tiny rainbow prisms onto Chal’s face and body from the sun’s nascent rays. She raised one hand above her eyes and wiggled her fingers experimentally, watching the colored lights play over her skin. She felt as though she was still in a dream.

  “Alan,” Chal said, looking over to where he slept, his chest rising and falling. She hoped he would be okay after such a long period of sleep deprivation. She didn’t want to wake him until he was ready, but the military would be searching for them, and a plane in the middle of the desert would not be hard to find in broad daylight.

  “Alan,” she repeated, and this time Alan blinked his eyes open, looking around.

  “We’ve got to leave,” Chal said. Her fingers were clumsy on her seatbelt as she unclasped the cold metal. Her fingertips felt numb. She reached over and unlocked the cockpit latch. There was a tinkling of glass and metal as the window slid open. She bent her legs under her, getting her balance as she pulled herself up in the cockpit.

  “Leave?” Alan said. He yawned, and Chal felt like tugging him out of the seat herself. It was dangerous here, and as the sun’s rays clawed over the desert floor it grew more and more dangerous to stay.

  “We have to go to Lucia’s,” Chal said. She stood up and immediately bent over again, nauseated with pain.

  “Easy there,” Alan said. Just like that he was out of his seatbelt, holding her by the shoulder to steady her.

  “I’m fine,” Chal said, although she wasn’t sure of it. Her head had been knocked hard during the earthquake and although the blood had stopped she knew that she would still be weak. But there was no time to rest, not any longer.

  Alan was up, though, helping her out of the cockpit. She slid along the scratched metal of the plane until she felt the relief of firm ground under her feet.

  Alan pulled on the clothes she had gotten out for him and slung the packs onto his shoulders as though he had all the energy in the world. Chal tried to take one of the backpacks but he stole it off of her hand as she was bringing it up to her shoulder.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hay is for horses,” Alan intoned solemnly, and she giggled, immediately thinking that she must be in hysterics. Where had he learned that? He was dressed in the white buttoned shirt and khaki pants she had found in the pack, and he looked no different from any other man now that he was clothed. He seemed somehow in disguise.

  And his brain was entirely incomprehensible to her. What other information had they programmed in? And why a sense of humor?

  “I can take that, really.”

  “So can I, and you’re the one with the injury,” he said. She watched as he took out the compass and used it to point them in the right direction, checking Chal’s markings on the map.

  “It’s this way,” he said confidently.

  It was so very strange to see him like this. In the lab he had been an experiment, a naked helpless creature waiting to be molded. Now he looked like a man, acted like a man, and Chal was having a hard time making the adjustment. She was not the one taking care of him anymore. They were partners now, both running away, escaping from something they didn’t fully understand. And, still in her lab suit, Chal was the one who stood out like a sore thumb in the real world.

  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 pitchforks 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?”