Althea crossed her arms. “No.”
“Shall I assume you’ve not a clue what a bath is then?”
“I know what a bath is.” She pushed at the hatch, which didn’t budge. “This is a cage, not a bath.”
“Righto. Well, think of this as a bath while standing up. The machine does all the work; all you have to do is stand there. I’ll walk you through how to work the controls.”
“I don’t like this!” Althea banged on the door. “Karina washes my hair when I have bath. Let me out! I don’t want this bath.”
Anna showed no reaction to her tantrum aside from pointing at the control panel inside the tube behind her. After another minute of glaring, Althea pouted at the flashing symbols that turned her chest green with reflected light. Words blinked below each one, and an animated wheel in the corner formed a sliding scale from red to blue.
“Right then, hit the one labeled full wash, set the temp to preference and―”
Althea glanced back over her shoulder. “Will you just do it for me? I can’t read.”
“Oh, heavens.” Pixie sighed. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“We can both fit in here.”
“I’d recommend against that.” Archon’s voice echoed from out of sight by the door. “Having a shower with that one can be… uncomfortable.”
Pixie blushed. “I um… sometimes have a bad reaction to water.” With a weak smile, she made a little spark dance between her fingers.
“You’ve no idea.” Archon’s voice carried a hint of remembered pain.
“Oh.” Althea sulked at the panel.
“Touch your finger to the third square in the second row, temp looks fine. All you have to do is stand there and try to stay calm.”
“What will it do to me?”
Pixie grumbled. “Warm water, soap, hot air… Nothing bad.”
Althea did not sense any deceit, and poked the screen as instructed. She jumped when the disc under her feet rattled and whirred, making machine noises. A pronounced click came from the hatch, sounding much like a locking bolt. In a panic, she threw herself into the cylinder, slapping at it and screaming, “Let me out! You tricked me. It’s a cage.”
She continued wailing until warm water sprayed on her from above. Pixie leaned against a column in an attempt not to fall over from laughing at her reaction. Althea bristled at being mocked; it was not fair.
A metal ring slid down out of the ceiling inside the tube, spinning about and spraying her from all sides with cascading waves of hot water. She moved away from the edge as the rotating jets doused her from head to toe and then back up. Gagging and sputtering, she tried to find a way to turn where she didn’t feel as though she would drown.
Althea looked at the floor, watching dirt-smeared water swirl about, devoured by a small grating in front of her toes. She accepted that Pixie had not lied; this was only a strange kind of bath. Drops of water fell from her nose, offering the juvenile distraction of trying to adjust how she stood so they would fall right into the little square holes without touching the drain.
The machine came to life again, the ring spinning in the opposite direction and spraying her with white foam. Remembering Karina’s warning about soap, she closed her eyes and clung to the hand railing, waiting for it to end. After the suds, more warm water left her dripping. Her fingers tightened around the bar, hating every ounce of this thing that made her feel like an object being cleaned rather than a person. Her longing for the loving caress of Karina’s fingers through her hair leaked down her face. She much preferred it to the clinical automation of this tube. This machine was proof of the city’s evil; there was no love. No wonder everyone who lived here was so heartless.
Images filled her mind. The shower vanished and she stood in the farm fields of Querq, stomach-deep in tickling wheat, a short distance from Karina. Her sister’s gaze was downcast and her face joyless. Althea raised a hand and called to her, but got no reaction.
“Karina.” Althea screamed, finding an invisible wall in her way. “I’m alive.”
Karina stopped working and looked up, craning her head with a joyous glint in her eye as though she had heard something on the wind. Seeing nothing, her head pitched forward and tears came. The sight of her made Althea cry as well. Every ounce of emotion in her heart projected the desire to tell Karina she was okay and trying to get home. Her sister lifted her gaze to the clouds again, smiling through her sorrow. Karina dropped the farm tool and ran off. The field faded back to white-painted walls, and Althea found herself staring at droplets of water on the inside of the tube where she curled on the floor.
She stared at the ring as it came out of the ground on its way up into the roof. Fury welled within her, a nascent thing she had not often called upon. As cruel as these people were being to her, what they did to Karina brought rage. Archon was too powerful for her; sneaking away would be her only chance.
“Okay, it’s done. Let me out.” She stood, kicking the door, but Pixie had gone.
Scratching at the tube wall, she could find no way to open it. Before she could escalate to screaming and banging, the entire tube shuddered and whirred as mechanical things below her sent noise and vibration throughout. She spun about as the cylinder filled with hot fast-moving air, a tornado in a bottle.
When the torrent subsided, she was dry. Seconds later, the same click came from the door and it popped open. Althea leapt out of the thing before it could change its mind and close again, and ran to where she had left her things. Her clothes were gone, replaced by a plain white dress, an impractically small pair of pants, and two floppy strips of pink cloth set atop simple, white flat shoes. The agate pendant was all that remained of her old things. A shadow dwelled on the floor at the far side of the room; someone, probably Pixie, guarded the door. Althea held up the tiny pants, wondering who would bother with them. They were so small they offered neither warmth nor protection. She tossed them aside and chose the dress instead.
Althea pulled the garment on over her head, having seen Karina wear similar things all the time. The material stopped at her knees, and felt as soft as the nightgown. Running, climbing, and swimming would be harder, but possible. Wearing such a modern garment brought weight to the worry she would never see home again.
Head down, she trudged out into the hallway and found Pixie waiting. The woman sighed at her and shook her head, seized her by the wrist, and dragged her off at a brisk walk.
Althea kept up, alternating her gaze from the floor ahead of her to the woman at her right. “Why are you jealous?”
Pixie stopped. “What? Jealous? Of you?”
She nodded. “Yes. I can feel it.”
The woman glanced away and resumed walking. “You’re still small enough to have a decent life.”
Althea winced as the hand around her arm tightened. “Someone hurt you, but you’re not all bad; not like him.”
“You’ve no idea what my life’s been like, I―” The flat stare from Althea stopped her voice in her throat. “Oh, well. I suppose being kept as a slave in the Badlands is just as miserable. How could you even want to go back there?”
“Querq is big and safe. I’m not a slave there. I have a real family. I have to do chores and help and everything. They miss me.” Althea wiped a lone tear off her cheek. “Love is not where you are, but who you are with.”
Pixie stood for a moment in silence. Althea felt guilt, shame, anger, and despair swirling about in a tangle. Momentary hope faded as the woman discarded all the emotions other than annoyance and dragged her along, more brusquely this time.
Her hair brushed back straight, Althea padded without a sound into a cavernous room dominated by a long, silver table surrounded by chairs. Pixie’s fingers in her back nudged her forward, closer to Archon who sat at the far end, lit by the glow of a number of holographic screens behind him. The interior was somewhat posh, far removed from the crumbling decay outside. Some distance away from the table, a handful of young people sat at consoles, making
little dots move around the floating slabs of light. Their space was dark, and their faces took on the color of whatever showed on their terminal.
“Well, well.” Archon looked her up and down, smiling. “That is quite a bit of an improvement. You’re rather pretty, actually.”
Pixie tugged at the dress, adjusting its fit. “She wouldn’t let me brush her hair, and she’s apparently petrified of socks.” She suppressed a giggle.
Althea winced at the pressing spots in her back as they guided her to a chair.
Archon chuckled at her lack of shoes. “Our stone-age darling will acclimate to the modern world soon enough. I would rather get her started on her training and education. Her primitivism is amusing in a quaint sort of way.”
“Well then, p’raps we should get ‘er some animal furs and a spear?” Pixie continued to giggle, and sat in the next chair. “It was hard enough getting her to use the shower. She can’t read. She even asked me how to free the little man from my NetMini.” Having lost the ability to speak due to her laughter, she held up the device, pointing at the head reading a news broadcast.
Althea glared, knowing Pixie mocked her. “Can I have my skirt back?” She looked at the woman, figuring her odds better.
“Sorry, luv. I tried to wash it, but it fell to bits.”
“But I made it…” She was not going to cry in front of them.
Archon rolled his eyes, blocking the gesture from her with his hand. “Truly a magnificent job you did. Eat.”
Another woman with skin the color of fresh snow and lemon-blonde hair down to her knees walked around and set a plastic plate in front of her. Althea gasped. The whole of the woman’s eyes were jet black and gleamed like gems. Clad in a tight leather skirt and sweater, both white, she carried the hint of familiarity, a presence exploding into recognition at the sound of a voice that came without moving lips.
“Hello, little one.” The placid calm of Aurora, the flesh-creature swept over her mind.
Althea leaned away, casting a wary look at the food. Three wooden sticks impaled chunks of meat coated in a brownish-red seasoning, next to a pile of rice.
“We tried to get something as familiar as possible to what you were used to.” Archon gestured at the plate. “Teriyaki chicken. It’s better than desert lizard, rat, or whatever the devil else you eat out there.”
Althea sniffed the offering. In her current mood, hunger was a distant thought, but the smell of food that had not been in the trash for days coaxed it out. She took a handful of rice and stuffed it into her mouth, losing a fair amount in the process.
Archon looked amused, but she felt his disdain. Pixie thought it cute. Aurora circled the table and sat, putting her feet up. Apparently, she disliked shoes, too.
He watched her eat with her hands, shaking his head. “The cretins have done some damage; you have a lot of work ahead of you. Althea, you are very special. It is an honor to have you here.”
“I’ve already told you what I think of this.” Aurora frowned at him.
“Oh, I’m sure we can bring the little wild thing back to society.” Pixie reached to pat her on the head.
Althea looked at her and growled.
“Feral food aggression?” asked Aurora.
Pixie’s gaze softened. “Aww.”
“She’s manipulating you.” Archon pinched the bridge of his nose again.
Another handful of rice crumbled over her face and Pixie reached for the spoon.
“Don’t.” Archon waved his hand. “She’ll get all mopey about that mongrel sister of hers, and it will set us back a month.”
Althea grabbed the spoon defiantly, and shoveled at the rice.
He smiled. “Now then, Althea.” He lowered his hands to the table.
“Altheeeea,” she said in a petulant tone. “You’re saying it bad. Not all-thay-a.”
He again pinched the bridge of his nose, shivering, trying to hide his indignant anger. After a moment, calm.
“You must have a great many questions for us. First, let me begin by welcoming you to our little group. You have met Annabelle. She has a talent with electricity. This is Lauren. Her talent allows her to find people for us, and she is quite the clairvoyant.”
“Am I then?” The ivory woman made a sarcastic face, scratching in the air with a claw-like gesture. “Then why don’t you believe me?”
Althea glanced at Pixie, Aurora, and Archon one after the next. “What is your talent? Being an asshole?”
Two men at the distant terminals gasped in shock, while a teenaged girl among them burst into giggles. Aurora smiled, and Pixie laughed.
He forced a saccharin smile, but could not hide his displeasure from her telempathy. “I am a telepath, mostly. Your abilities over the body are almost as impressive as what I can do to the mind.”
One of the empty wooden sticks leapt from her plate, spun over and lanced down through Pixie’s hand, sending a spritz of blood across the silver beneath it.
“I dabble with telekinetics as well.” He brushed a finger at his lip.
Pixie screamed, removing the lance from her palm. “Bloody ‘ell! What was that for?”
“Because you laughed at him.” Althea gave him a dire look before mending the tiny hole. “He wanted me to show you what I do.”
“As I stated before, you are one of us. You are of the Awakened.” Archon held his arms out to the sides to accentuate the magnitude of the statement.
“Thank you for the food and the dress, but I don’t want to live here. Please take me home to Querq.” Her eyes flickered.
He smiled. Brushing off her suggestion, he produced one of those stimpak things from his pocket. “In the Badlands, you’re a goddess. While it comes in handy, and you are quite powerful, it also makes everyone want to take you away. Here, you can be free of that. Your abilities are impressive, but they are not the only way to stave off death. Here, with me, you can have a normal life.” He twirled the red cylinder in his fingers, staring through it at her. Elbow upon the table, his voice half a whisper. “Technology is… wonderful.”
Another skewer flew, another scream from Pixie. Telekinetic force held Althea tight to her chair as the stimpak glided across the table. Annabelle stuck herself in the arm with it, and the small wound closed.
Pixie scowled at him, wiping the blood from her hand. “You can be a right bastard sometimes, James.”
Archon shook his head. “As great and powerful as you are, child, you have much to learn. What you tried to do there, most call psionic suggestion. An idea, sent into the mind that echoes louder and louder until it sounds and feels like something you want to do anyway. Unfortunately, I know that little trick as well, and I’ve had a bit more practice at it than you. Would you care to be upon the table on all fours, scampering about and barking like the animal you were raised to be?”
“Careful, James.” Aurora winked. Her voice saturated the room though her mouth remained closed. “She’ll honk in your loafers.”
“No, please.” Althea looked down.
“Then you’ll not try it again. Not that it will work. You see, when you try to use an ability on someone who also knows the trick, you had best be better than them, or it will accomplish bugger all.”
“You don’t need to humiliate her.” Pixie smirked, still rubbing her hand.
He stood and paced around the table. “She humiliates herself, refusing to rise above her primitivism, wanting to return to that wretched husk of civilization running about in leather scraps with spears. No, she is destined for far more. This girl is quite powerful, pretty, and young… if not a bit peevish.”
Althea looked at Aurora, sensing a touch of annoyance. “He keeps telling me I’m pretty, but it won’t make me like him.”
“Child, when you have come to accept the life you knew is little more than a pale remnant dwelling in the shadow of the real world, we will teach you to grow your power. The place you think of as home has been forgotten by mankind. There is nothing for you there but obscurity and de
ath.”
“I don’t care if I have an obscurity. I want my family.” Sadness held a subtle undertone in her otherwise calm words.
Archon froze with his mouth open, making a face as if he had been struck with a raw salmon. “Look, you little dust flea, obscurity isn’t a thing you can hold. It’s a state of existing where―” He fumed.
“You want to own me like everyone else. You want to own me and use me to do bad things for you.”
“She has changed, Archon.” Aurora smiled. “Not the docile little pet you hoped for?”
He swiveled, stalled in a pained expression of frustration.
“There are things at play here you do not see. This city in which we hide holds people that think they run the world, think they order this society. Society is terrified of us. They want to control us, cage us, or eliminate us.” Condescension wrapped his voice like syrup. “The so-called police are no better than your Badland raiders. In fact, they are worse. They’ll stick in you a tank and poke you with needles to see why you are what you are. Governments are all the same. They don’t see a little girl. They see something they could use as a weapon or a threat they need to destroy.”
Althea folded her hands in her lap. Fear, desperation, and greed swarmed around him as he ranted. She could not separate the lies out of what he said; regardless of its truth, he believed them.
“If you don’t accept your destiny with us, they will find you, and they will keep you away from everyone you could ever love.”
She glowered at the floor. “Why do you want me so much? What can I do? I know your feelings. You don’t want to protect me. You want me to do something.”
Archon chuckled, an exasperated titter, as he forced a smile and waved toward Pixie as if to say, ‘this is what I have to put up with?’
“Well, you see, Althea…” He circled back to his chair. “I have spent many years gathering psionic individuals who share my particular distrust of the government and trying to help them build a better life. I have been searching for a way to help them know true power.”
“Awakened?” Distrust painted her face.
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 38