Artificial

by Jadah McCoy

  I face them as they walk closer to the opening. I push the mask onto the back of my head. My gaze falls on Syl’s face as she peers into the dark crack.

  Regret burns hot in my chest. Until now, right here, this very moment, it didn’t seem real that she would be leaving. That I would never see her again. But as I look at her, reality sinks in. She will crawl through that hole, be borne into another world I am not and will never be a part of, and that will be the end of it.

  Maybe to the stolen Organics, this seems like a terrible nightmare, and to me it also doesn’t seem real. More like a dream. The dream of a woman carved all from bronze, a creature of the jungle massacring my reality.

  I just wish I had been able to help her more… been able to fix her. But time ran out, and there is nothing to be done about that. Modern science can change the genetic makeup of a person, but it can’t give me more time. No, nothing so helpful as that.

  “This is it. It will lead you to the outside.”

  Syl’s friend leans his head into the hole and then pops it back out again and nods to Syl.

  “He’s right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  As though I wouldn’t know where it leads. As though I would put on this silly outfit and traipse around the city for the sake of a lie.

  He meets my gaze for a long moment, challenging. I look away first.

  “Here.” I pull two knives from inside my suit jacket and place one in each of her hands. If those creatures are still out there as she says, she’ll need a weapon to survive. And I suppose if he’s to protect her, he’ll need a weapon, too. “Take these.”

  She closes small hands around the weapons before they fall against her sides.

  “Bastion.” She glances up at me. “How can I ever…?”

  I’m struck by how strange goodbyes are. I’ve never said goodbye to anyone. No one in this city ever leaves. To me, goodbye has always been see you later.

  “No need.” I rub the back of my neck, though it doesn’t itch. “It was my distinct pleasure watching you expel bodily fluids.”

  She closes her eyes and snorts. “Yeah, it’s a hobby of mine.”

  “Syl, let’s go,” the other one says.

  She stares at me, her gaze shifting to where the boy stands. She nods to him.

  His clothes scrape against the jagged stone as he squeezes himself into the opening. Syl walks over and leans her slim body against the edge of the crack, one foot in the hole and one foot out.

  She smiles. “Goodbye, Bastion.”

  With that, she ducks and disappears into the wall. I wait for a moment, staring at her, the memory of her fading away bit by bit along with the sound of their clothes rustling against the stone. Maybe she’s forgotten something and will have to turn around and come back. Maybe… maybe…

  But no. She hasn’t forgotten anything. Why would she ever turn around? Why would she stay here? Why would she come back?

  That’s it. The blip in my life is gone. It was one blip in a series of blips, as life tends to be. I step back and press my body against the wall behind me, letting my head fall back against it. The mask scrapes against the wall with a clatter.

  I should leave, get away from this place before suspicion falls on me.

  When would you like to meet? I send the message to Micro.

  Meet me tonight, she answers right away.

  I couldn’t help Syl as I wanted to, but perhaps I might be able to save someone else’s life.

  Syl

  ait.” My feet refuse to move.

  Serge doesn’t stop or even slow. He keeps hacking through the brush, setting a pace that makes my lungs hurt within a matter of minutes. We’ve only been walking for a short time, but already I’m breathless and fatigued.

  But that’s not what urges me to stop.

  I can’t leave this place. I can’t go back to the Sanctuary, back to normal life, and pretend nothing happened. Pretend that I’m not turning into a monster, that I won’t wake up in a week and try to liquefy and eat everyone I know.

  For a while, it was easy to believe that in the heat of battle and the rush of the escape. But the fatigue coursing through me, the crawling under my skin, the burning within me, have all drowned that delusion.

  “Serge, wait!”

  “Wait for what? I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to get back to the Sanctuary before nightfall.”

  I stop walking anyway, crossing my arms over my chest. When he doesn’t hear my steady footfalls behind him, he finally stops hacking at the climbing-vines wrapping around his legs and turns to look at me.

  “I can’t.” I grip the knife handle even harder.

  Concern darkens his features. “Are you hurting? Do you need help?”

  “No, it’s not that, I just…” My heart beats out a frantic rhythm that would put our pace to shame. Why am I so nervous about this conversation? “I can’t leave.”

  He looks at me as though the words mean nothing to him, as though he can’t even comprehend them strung together like that.

  “What do you mean you can’t leave?” His tone is even.

  “There’s nothing for me back there—”

  “Nothing for you?” He tosses the blade around in his hand, absentmindedly stabbing at the bark of a tree. The vines around it hiss and retract back into the boughs. “There’s nothing for you?”

  “No, Serge.” I meet his stare with a challenge. “There’s nothing for me there.”

  He looks at me as though I’ve grown an extra arm… and I might actually do that soon.

  “Syl, that’s your family! I’m your family. Lucca was your family. That’s home, and you’re telling me there’s nothing for you in Elite? Oh, but there is something for you back there?” He points toward the wall that looms not too far away from us. “Like that fucking robot?”

  “What are you talking about? This isn’t about Bastion or anyone else.”

  “Bastion.” Shaking his head, he spits the name as though it’s bitter on his tongue.

  Anger burns me up. He’s such an idiot. He can’t see past his petty jealousy for even a moment to consider that maybe this isn’t about him.

  “Stop trying to pretend like nothing happened to me!” I stare at him in disbelief. “Making it back to the Sanctuary won’t make everything okay! If there’s a cure for this, it’s in those walls, and if you want me to live, then I have to find it. Bastion can help—”

  “Bastion can help,” he mocks.

  I throw my hands up. He doesn’t listen. He never does. Except this time, it will be at the cost of my life, and I can’t let that happen.

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he has an agenda, too? I mean, why would a robot possibly want to help a human girl he just met? What does he want from you, Syl?”

  “That’s what they do! Michelo helps humans.” I hold my chin high.

  “I’ve seen how Bastion looks at you.”

  It takes me a moment to process this. How petty, how selfish his words are.

  “Really, Serge? I’m done with this.” I turn to walk away from the conversation, from him.

  “What has he ever done?” Serge yells at my turned back. “I tracked you through the night! I got myself captured to save you!”

  “Oh, how valiant of you,” I mock, turning to glare at him over my shoulder. “A lot of good it did.”

  When I continue to walk away from him, he crashes through the jungle after me. He grasps my arm and yanks until I turn back toward him, and doesn’t relinquish his hold. I stare up at him, too shocked to pull away.

  “Wait, Syl. I’m sorry.” He hesitates, running a hand through his green hair. “I don’t want to lose you, too. Please.”

  The hollow sorrow shining in his eyes almost brings me to my knees. I don’t want to lose him, either, and this may be the last time I ever see him. My lifelong friend.

  “You’ve already lost me. I was gone the moment those PICs took me to New Elite.”

  “Was it ever me?” He
gulps, leaning in closer to me. “Even once in your whole life, was it ever me?”

  I breathe in and out, once, twice. I think back to all the times his gaze has lingered on me. No emotion stirs in my chest.

  “No.” I shake my head. Maybe before the answer could have been yes, but not now.

  He’s so close to me, and his crumpled face shows his pain. His breath ghosts over my lips.

  Abruptly he pushes me away, and I stumble backward, tripping over a root and slamming into the tree behind me with a gasp. The climbing-vines immediately reach for me and circle my body, strapping me to their host tree.

  “Then go back, if that’s what you want! Die alone for all I care.”

  Pain sears my chest, his words hitting their mark. He turns away, refusing to meet my eyes. He trudges farther into the forest, hacking at the foliage with angry violence. No goodbye, no nothing.

  I rip at the vines and slide down the tree, covering my face with my hands and trying to push back the tears that pool beneath my lashes. I take my hands away as his silhouette fades into the distance, blending in with the boughs and leaves. He doesn’t turn back. Not once.

  Die alone. Well, I guess now I truly am alone. Maybe he’ll get his wish.

  I throw my body off the tree and stomp back in the direction I came from, dodging itchy clouds of puffbomb seeds as I go. I rub my bleary eyes with the heel of my hand. Fuck him. I don’t need him. In fact, I’ll get along a lot better without him starting fights, insulting me, and generally just screwing things up every chance he gets.

  Hopefully, Bastion hasn’t gone too far. We didn’t make it very far out of the city, so it won’t take me long to get back. In my head, I recount the steps that brought us from Michelo’s to this place. Leave the alley, go left past the big building and some fountains, down the blue glass road until it turns into cobblestone littered with old, rusting heaps of metal. From there it should be easy enough to wander around until I find Michelo’s shop. It’s hard to miss with all the barrels of body parts outside the door.

  I fight against flaming red ferns that snag on my clothes, their fronds as tall as my body and their fruit heavy enough to knock me out if it fell on my head. The wall looms closer to me until it’s all I can see. It goes so far up that I can’t see the tops of any of the tall buildings I know lie beyond it. It seems so stark in comparison to the mossy world that exists outside, and even now the plants try to grow over it, always itching to reclaim what was once theirs.

  Through the bleariness, I see a glint to my left side, capturing my attention. I stop walking and turn, searching the woods around me.

  And then I see it.

  My heart stops. Straight across from me, standing still as a startled ablak, is a masked suit. A PIC. He sees me but doesn’t move. I stand as still as he does. The soft music of birdsong filters into my ears.

  “Bastion?” I ask after a moment of hesitation.

  Maybe he followed us, still disguised. But if it were Bastion, he would say something, take off the mask. Not just stand there.

  I take a half step back.

  Then, wordlessly, he surges toward me, heedless of any plant life in his way. Definitely not Bastion.

  I run back into the jungle, darting between ferns and leaping over puffbombs that make my skin burn and itch. But my maneuvering does nothing to stop the PIC from gaining on me. The steady rhythm of the fabric of his sleeves swishing against his jacket fills my ears, drowning out the sounds of nature and my gasps for breath. The pounding of my heart nearly chokes me.

  His hand closes over my elbow as I stumble down a small hill, sending me tumbling into a pile of leaves. I cry out when my spine breaks my fall on a sharp rock.

  The PIC is unfazed as he walks down the hill toward me. I scoot across the leaves, a sharp pain emanating from my back. He yanks me up by an arm before I can scramble away.

  In a split second, I grab the knife from my belt and jam it into the android’s neck. He doesn’t jerk back or even loosen his hold on me as I had hoped. He tilts his head, a jumbled, staticky sound coming from his mouth. I must have cut his vocal cords, or whatever the android equivalent is.

  He secures my arms in front of me, locking something cold around my wrists. I struggle against the restraints, kicking him with my heels.

  A sharp pain strikes the back of my head, and when I open my eyes, I’m staring at the android’s dress shoes. Rocks dig into the side of my face, and cotton fills my head. Hands grasp my bound wrists, already chafed by the cold metal. The leaves and fern fronds bunch beneath me, scraping my skin through my clothes as he drags me through the woods.

  Overhead, beyond the thick mass of forest, Zita’s silver rings pass in and out of view. It’s almost comical how peaceful everything is around us. I drift in and out a few times, my eyes closing for a few moments before I force them open again. I have to stay awake.

  “Well, well,” says a voice. “Look who it is. Someone’s finally gone to a stylist.”

  I’ve heard that voice before.

  Get these foul beasts back in their cage and out of my sight.

  Pontus.

  The PIC releases my hands, and they drop to the ground. A face peers down at me, white hair filtering into my vision followed by the rest of him. A wicked smile curves his mouth, and diamond studs shine along his cheekbones.

  “Hello again.” He wiggles his fingers above me in greeting.

  I rise to my hands and knees and crawl away from the two androids. The world spins around, dizziness causing a wave of nausea to roll over me.

  Pontus laughs. His boots crunch against the earth, and a weight on my back forces my belly to the ground.

  “Let me go.” Dust and dirt cloud around my face, stinging my eyes.

  He tuts. “After the fortune you’ve cost me? Do you have any idea how long it took them to rewire me? No, I think I have something a bit more fun in mind.”

  His hand tangles in my hair, and I gasp as he pulls me up by a handful of strands. He forces me to face him, and I glare back with all the hatred left in me.

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Such… emotion. If I didn’t know better, I might say you were malfunctioning. Well, we have just the thing for that, don’t we?”

  He turns to look at the PIC behind him, who nods. Pontus does a double take when he sees the knife embedded in the PIC’s throat.

  “Take that thing out before I get sick.”

  The PIC responds with jumbled static. He reaches up and yanks the blade out, tossing it to the side. A thin dribble of black liquid leaks from the wound.

  I eye the knife lying beside the hollow remains of an exploded puffbomb. If I could just get over to it, distract them somehow.

  Pontus turns back to me with a smile. His knowing gaze catches my wandering one, and it’s like he can see my thoughts. “You could try. In fact, please do. And make sure to aim for my optical input sensors. Might give you an extra ten seconds to escape.”

  He lets go of my hair, pushing me to the ground. I scramble forward and dive for the blade. As soon as my hand touches the handle, Pontus unleashes the full force of a punch to my gut. All the air leaves my body, and I convulse on the ground from pain and lack of oxygen. My vision darkens for a second.

  “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Pontus says. I can almost hear his eyes rolling. “Get up, you disgusting sympathizer. I have much more fun planned for you.”

  He regains his hold on my hair and drags me up again. I stumble behind him as he leads me headfirst toward the wall, the PIC following behind us. I pull against his grip, but he gives me a firm tug before disappearing into the crack with me behind him.

  The jingle of his jewelry echoes in the dark space along with the sound of his maniacal giggles. Around us, the small tunnel gets tighter, more claustrophobic as we move closer to the other side.

  I can’t let him take me back to New Elite. He’ll kill me. I know he will. The bloodthirsty look in his eyes tells me he’ll make an example out of me.

  I fight ag
ainst him, screaming in protest. The jagged edges of the eroded rock around me scrape my arms and sides. The pain doesn’t even register as my brain clouds with adrenaline and the will to survive.

  He stops and shushes me, pressing me against the wall with his heavy body and covering my mouth with a hand. “Don’t get too excited now. I want to make this last.”

  Revulsion roils in the pit of my belly, trailing up to create a bitter taste in the back of my throat. His body against mine is disgusting, intimidating, violent. I try to squirm closer to the wall and away from his touch, ignoring the razor-sharp rock points digging into my spine and shoulder blades. He doesn’t relent, so I bite at his hand.

  He growls and leans closer until his not-warm, not-cold lips touch my ear. I shudder, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

  “My darling, you’re getting dangerously close to finding out how I deal with unruly Organics.”

  He pulls back, hand trailing down to grasp my throat. His thumb whispers along my collarbone, back and forth, back and forth. He drags his gaze up, and I glare at him, all the hatred and revulsion in my body pumping into my gaze.

  “It won’t be hard to break you.”

  “It wasn’t hard to break you, either.” I bare my teeth at him in a forced smile.

  He grunts in amusement. “Such fun we will have.”

  He grabs me by the back of the neck and pushes me through the rest of the tunnel. The alley appears in front of us, familiar but so alien. An hour ago, this place inspired relief, but now it fills me with the worst kind of dread.

  Suddenly my stomach drops into my shoes as if I’m kicking it around with each forced step I take. Did they see Bastion bringing us here? What if he’s been captured, too? There’s no sign of a struggle in the alley; everything is in the same place it was before I left through the wall, as far as I can tell.

  Pontus would have said something if he knew about Bastion smuggling out Organics. I get the idea there’s nothing he would love more than to rub my face in the pain of my friends.

  Pontus leads me out of the alley and back in the direction Bastion brought Serge and me from. Our shoes clack against the blue glass road, my feet tapping out a more frantic beat as I pull against Pontus’s grip, try to gain some traction on the glass street. But it doesn’t work. The PIC behind us gives me a shove.