by Alicia Ellis
I batted her hands away. “I’m fine, Marissa.”
Still numb, I allowed her to usher me into the vehicle. She slid into the car after me. Lionel climbed into the front seat, and we pulled out of the driveway.
“Lunatics,” my mother muttered. Her gaze followed the line of protesters as we drove away.
But the man’s words echoed in my head. You cannot create intelligence. The Model Ones mean death for humanity. I couldn’t help thinking he might be right.
5
For the sixteenth night in a row, the sounds of wrenching metal and my own screams lingered with me after I woke. My senses returned to me a second later, and I wasn’t bleeding to death in a mangled car.
A light headache tapped at the back of my head. Time for another dose of my meds.
My bedroom door flew open as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and Allie burst into the room, her face lit by a wide smile. She looked like a miniature version of me. Same nose. Same full, wide mouth. Same dark-brown eyes and wild, curly hair.
Our housekeeper and nanny, Marcy, had pulled Allie’s curls into three tight braids, two at the back of her head and one on the top. Pink, purple, and blue ribbons dressed the ends of the braids.
Headfirst like a charging bull, Allie barreled toward me and dove into my bed. She hit my chest with enough force that I grunted to absorb the impact. One braid slapped me in the chin.
She landed a kiss on my eyelid. “Good morning!”
Laughing, I shifted her to one side, so I could cradle her in my right arm. “Good morning, little one.”
“Not little.” She stuck out her lower lip. Whenever Allie spoke, her words tumbled together, as if she hadn’t yet figured out how to separate each from the next one. People who didn’t know her couldn’t always understand, but to me, her voice was the most beautiful and clearest thing in the world.
“You’re smaller than me.”
“You’re older.”
“So you’re little because you’re four?”
“Not little!” She punched me with her tiny fist. I cringed, and she burst into squeals of laughter.
I tweaked her top braid, and Allie scrunched up her nose. She hated when I messed up her hair. She pushed her face close to mine, leaving only an inch of space between us. Her tone solemn, she asked, “Better?”
Yesterday afternoon, I’d spent a little time with Allie—long enough to show her the arm and assure her I was home for good. But then a headache had hit me so hard that I spent the rest of the day sleeping. This was our first opportunity to hash the whole thing out together.
I leaned toward her to touch my nose to hers. “I’m home, aren’t I? That means I’m better.”
Without ceremony, Allie yanked the covers down on the left side of my body, revealing my silver arm. She knocked on it, emitting a soft clang. I must have made a face because she added, “You hate it?”
“It’s not . . . me. It’s wrong. But I don’t want to get into that.”
“Why?”
“It’s going to upset me.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if giving great consideration to my words. Then she grinned. “I like it.”
“That’s fine, little one. Everything you do is okay.” I kissed her on the forehead and, at the same time, pulled the blanket back over my left arm.
Marcy poked her head into the room. “Your mother wants to talk to you, Lena.” She reached out a hand for Allie, who slid off the bed and grasped it, allowing Marcy to lead her from the room.
As soon as I was alone again, the sense of contentment drained from me, and I knocked my head against the headboard. I flinched as the small contact sent a ripple of pain through my body. My head begged for its next dose of pain meds, so I stumbled into my bathroom.
The medicine cap wouldn’t turn under my clumsy right hand, but I refused to use my left. When the top finally twisted loose, pills scattered across the countertop. I grabbed two, popped them in my mouth, and swallowed them dry.
The bedroom door clicked open, and the lights came on. My mother’s voice floated in from the next room. “Lena?”
“In the bathroom. What’s up?”
“I’m not going to call back and forth with you while you’re in there.”
“Then feel free to leave,” I shouted back, all syrup and honey.
“Would you come here please?” Her words were sharp, her irritation prickling through.
It made me smile. I trudged back into the bedroom, where my mother stood, already dressed in a navy pantsuit. Her lips tugged downward, as if weighted by an anchor, as she scanned the piles of clothing and scattered books and papers throughout the room. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I got a kick out of her distaste for my cleaning habits.
“Your father and I are going out of town on business. We’ll be back Friday for our party to celebrate the Model Ones. We expect you to be there.”
Great. They’d want me to make small talk and pretend I approved of everything CyberCorp did. I climbed back into bed and pulled the purple covers over my face. “You couldn’t wait until a decent hour to tell me that?”
“I could have, but you need to get up for school anyway.”
“I’ve been waking myself for school ever since I was ten. I’ve got at least another fifteen minutes before I have to get up.”
“This will be your first day having your new arm at school. And you no longer have a car, thanks to your little accident. I need—”
“By accident, you mean how I almost died because you remotely turned on my car’s auto-drive? And then you replaced my arm with an android arm without consulting me because you knew I’d hate it. Is that what you mean?”
“I’m not arguing with you. Lionel will meet you downstairs in an hour to drive you.” My mother knew me too well. If she weren’t standing over me right now, I’d have gone back to sleep and slept through first period. I’d planned to skip school today, and I would have gotten away with it because the teachers knew I’d been out sick.
I groaned. “Fine.”
With the blanket still covering my face, I couldn’t see her, but the mattress moved as she sat beside me. I pulled the blanket down.
“How’s your head feeling?” she asked.
“Like someone cut it open and shoved a metal object into it.”
Her expression remained neutral, a flawless mask. “Lionel told me you hit your head on the ground yesterday when that man attacked you. You have to be more careful so soon after surgery. You could have damaged your hardware.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I consider getting tackled by an unwashed stranger.” Just in case she didn’t capture the full extent of my smartass-ness, I grabbed my hand-screen off the nightstand and touched the button on the side. The device beeped, ready for my instructions. “Remind me not to get tackled by any more lunatics.”
“I’ll remind you,” the hand-screen chirped. I dropped it back on the nightstand.
My mother’s lips pursed, and I couldn’t hide the smug smile from my face. I’d cracked her mask. “Let’s discuss how we’re going to handle introducing your arm to the public.”
There it was—the real purpose of her morning visit—a talk about how her tech would interrupt my life. “Easy. I’m going to hide in my bedroom until Dr. Fisher agrees it’s time to put the skin on.”
“No. You are going to school today. When asked about the accident, you will not mention any issues with the auto-drive. We can’t afford to have your name mentioned any more than it has to be in the anti-technology community. They’re irrational enough without giving them fresh fodder for their rants. The family will issue a press release about your new arm in about an hour, so you won’t have to explain your situation to any of your classmates. They’ll already know. If—”
“You’re telling everyone?” Something pushed against my thigh, and I looked down. The metal fingers of my hand had curled and now pressed into my leg. I’d gotten to the point where the limb obeyed me. But this was the first movem
ent I’d managed without having to actively think about what I wanted the thing to do. Just like my old arm. I didn’t know whether to celebrate or be completely freaked out that this machine imitated real life so well.
“Yes.” My mother’s voice pulled me back to the conversation. “The arm is an achievement for CyberCorp—a melding of artificial intelligence with a human being. The public will find out sooner or later. If we tell them ourselves, we’ll have the advantage. We can spin it however we like.”
“How about we don’t spin it? We leave it right where it is.”
“That’s not an option.”
Since my mother cared more about appearances than my feelings, I decided to hit her where it hurt. “We keep this private, or I tell everyone the accident was caused by auto-drive.” For good measure, I raised the stakes even more. “And I’ll throw in the fact that you installed the arm while I was asleep, and I’m opposed to it. I’ll be the new spokesmodel of the anti-tech community. I’m pretty sure I can find Philip Pollock’s contact info if I look for it. He does this great audio program. Maybe we can arrange an interview.”
She blinked at me a few times, mutely, but her expression remained impassive. “Fine.”
I flashed her a shameless smile.
“I will give you a week to tell your friends in your own words what happened. Then we’re issuing a press release.” Without waiting for my response, she stood and padded away across the carpet. The door clicked shut behind her.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, my mother proved me wrong. Soon, I’d be the new poster girl for CyberCorp.
6
When the car rolled to a stop in front of my school, I made sure the sleeves of my leather jacket extended past the top of my gloves, covering my left arm completely. Not a bit of metal shone through.
I would have to tell my friends the whole truth today—about the monstrosity now attached to my body—but I didn’t want them finding out by spotting it. This was definitely an easing-in type of situation. Luckily, it was winter. Even though it was over fifty degrees today, maybe no one would ask about the gloves.
The car door slid upward, and I hopped out. “Thanks for the ride,” I shouted to Lionel as the door shut behind me. He waved and drove away.
“Lena!” Harmony’s voice hit me before I made it ten feet.
She jogged toward me from where she’d just parked her car in the lot, somehow managing to balance on the pencil-thin heels of her shoes. She wrapped me in a tight hug. I didn’t hug her back, afraid I’d get the pressure of my left arm wrong and either break her ribs or at least give away that my arm was no longer flesh.
She didn’t seem to notice. “I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s up, bitch?” She grinned and stepped back to look me up and down.
I angled my body away from her to put my torso between her and my left arm. “I’m good. Except my head . . .” I started to tell her about my everlasting headache, but then she’d want to know what kind of head injury I’d sustained. I sure as hell wasn’t telling her CyberCorp had put a chip in there—not quite yet anyway. “I’m good,” I said again. “Happy to be back.”
Harmony touched her ear to activate her micro-comm. “Message Melody,” she said. “Lena’s back. We’re in front of the school.” She touched her ear again to complete the message. Somewhere nearby, Melody’s micro relayed the words.
Harmony gestured for me to follow her up the school’s wide front steps. “Any word on Jackson?”
“Last I heard, still in a coma.”
She glanced over at me.
“I really don’t know anything else. I keep calling, but that’s all they tell me.”
I’d attended this school for the past three and a half years, and these days, I barely paid attention to its facade. But today, the building had changed.
As usual, the steps led up to columns reaching upward two stories. Beyond the columns, brick covered the building’s front, with the exception of two rows of windows. But unlike usual, two digital banners hung around the front entrance, one on each side of the double doors. With images of our school pennant fluttering in the wind, the banners advertised an upcoming basketball game.
“When did they install those?” I asked Harmony.
Her brow scrunched. “They’ve been there forever.”
In three and a half years, I would have noticed two banners, each probably spanning a five-foot-by-eight-foot space. “No—” I started, but Harmony cut me off.
“I can’t believe you’ve been in the hospital. You look fantastic.” She flashed me a look that said I was being an idiot, so I let the banner thing drop. The school had probably installed them over the winter break, and by now, I was the only student who hadn’t seen them. “Speaking of which, what was up with all the secrets, and why were you at CyberCorp instead of a normal hospital?”
“My parents insisted.” I already had an answer prepared for this question, and I knew everyone would believe it. “You know how my folks are—always insisting on the best. They figured I’d get better care under their watch, and they wanted to keep things hushed to avoid a media circus.”
“Well, you look good as new,” she said. “What was it like there?”
“Mostly, I just sat around watching the vid-screens or doing physical therapy. They have this tube they stuck me in a bunch of times that made my scars smooth out.” I started to pull back my collar to show her that my left shoulder looked almost the way it used to.
Its scars had flattened and faded after several sessions in the tube. But I dropped my hand when I realized showing her my shoulder meant showing her the top of the cybernetic arm—the one I hadn’t told her about yet. I needed to tell both twins at once. Otherwise, Harmony would open her big mouth to tell Melody, and she’d probably butcher the delivery before I could ease her sister into the idea.
Harmony didn’t seem to notice the halted movement. “And what was with this no-visitors nonsense? Were they afraid we were going to steal their medical secrets?”
“Who knows?” I changed the subject. “I never thought I’d be happy to be at school, but I am. I missed you guys.”
“You say that now. But wait a week, and you’ll beg for another car accident.”
I forced myself to laugh but, at the same time, tugged my left sleeve down.
She pointed at my hands. “What’s up with the gloves?”
I considered telling her right then. We were friends. She would understand this didn’t change who I was.
Or she’d be weirded out by the metal contraption now replacing my arm. I could still change my mind and keep the thing under wraps until they had a chance to install new skin. Maybe I could convince my mother to hold off even longer on the press release.
“My arm isn’t completely healed.”
Harmony’s eyes widened. “Oh, so you’ve got all kinds of scars and stuff. Let me see.”
I was preparing to spit out another lie, when she cocked her head to the side the way people did when listening to their micro-comms.
“Oh crap,” she muttered.
“What?”
“My comm just reminded me to meet with Mr. Hinckley before class. I have some questions about something I got wrong on our first quiz. This was the only time he could meet me this week.” Despite the flighty impression Harmony showed the world, she was near the top of our class and planned to stay that way.
“Wait.” I clutched her wrist.
“Really sorry. I know you just got back and all. I promise I want to catch up, but this is important.” She pulled away and hurried into the building.
With her went my chance to tell both twins at once—unless I wanted to wait until lunchtime, and by then I might have lost my nerve.
“Lena!” Melody’s voice caught my attention.
I turned and started to raise my left arm to wave—but rethought it halfway through and waved with my right instead.
Melody grasped me in a quick hug. When she released me, she took a
huge step back, wide-eyed. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” When her brow remained knitted, I added, “Really. I promise.”
“What’s up with the gloves?”
I shrugged and tried my best to look nonchalant. “I’m starting a new trend. They say everything comes back in style, you know.”
She stared at them for another couple seconds, then nodded. “They’re cute.”
I exhaled. I’d bought myself a little time until I could get both of them together.
“Where’s Harmony?” she asked.
“Studying, as usual,” I said.
“I tried to tell her the semester has barely started, and she doesn’t need to work so hard. But she’s stubborn.” She rolled her eyes. “Speaking of which, Lena, she said she was going to email you a copy of her notes from the past couple weeks.”
We stepped through the school’s front doors into a hallway overflowing with color. The floor tiles, which used to be light gray, now shone like silver. The lockers were dent-free, and vid-screens hung between the locker banks. The screens displayed the school’s social media feeds, along with class schedules.
Like the floor, the walls seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the unexpected stimulus.
“What?” I muttered
Melody didn’t seem fazed by the school’s recent renovations. She kept moving forward, gaze straight ahead.
“There are vid-screens on the walls.” I pointed at one that appeared to be playing a video of the school’s most recent pep rally.
“You okay? Still feeling a little off?”
“I’m not off,” I insisted. “These vid-screens are new, and the floors—why the change from gray to silver?”
“Oh!” Melody let out a peal of laughter. “You finally got some contact lenses. Way to join the civilized world, Lena.”
I accepted the congratulations without a word, but inside, I was seething. The school’s vid-screens and glowing floors and walls weren’t new. They were virtual. I was seeing them for the first time because I normally walked around blind to the virtual world built on top of the physical one, and I liked it that way.