by Jadah McCoy
In the heart of New Elite, the androids bustle about in their metallic clothes, wild colors, and outrageous jewelry. The fountain splashes with cheer in the background. Everything is peaceful, quiet, bright. No one talks to anyone; they go about their business, weaving between shining glass buildings and speeding hovercrafts. This is the exact opposite of the slums.
At first, they don’t notice us, or maybe they choose to ignore us. Either way, Pontus doesn’t like it.
“Citizens of New Elite!” His prominent voice shatters the peaceful silence. “Gather round!”
Slowly, the androids begin to notice us. They glance around as though they were in some sort of trance, unable to see anything beyond the path they were walking. They must recognize him because most abandon their previous course and meander over. I remember seeing the high elite gathered in the crowd at the meat market, surrounded by their guards as they judged the monetary worth of my people. A menagerie of their red, purple, and yellow eyes and a rainbow of hair colors forms a small sea of people around us.
So this is it. It was never going to be the Cull to kill me. Public execution, that’s to be my death. Death by a creation I thought was long gone—perhaps just a fairy tale. Nothing more than a scary story told to me by Sanders.
I guess I should have been more scared.
Pontus throws me to the ground, and I land with a clatter of metal restraints against the blue glass. The PIC stands by my side, no doubt ready to press me back down with the bottom of his shoe should I be inclined to fight back or run.
I hate all their eyes on me, watching and waiting for whatever punishment is to be doled out. Does no one think it’s wrong? Will no one speak out against him? Or does some sick part of these mechanical monsters enjoy a good slaughter?
A familiar face in the crowd catches my eye, and it takes me a moment to realize why the face is familiar at all. The girl who knew Bastion in that alley—Micro. She’s staring straight at me with a look I can’t quite place. She’s carefully blank, but her widened eyes betray her shock. Then she turns and disappears, parting the gathering of people behind her.
“Citizens of New Elite, welcome! I have an announcement to make.” He holds his hands up, beckoning.
Wordlessly, blankly, they look on and wait for him to make his announcement. Some glance at each other with slight confusion.
“It has been brought to my attention that perhaps there has been a bit of talk about our treatment of Organics,” he says, voice carrying. “And perhaps some of you know someone, or are someone, who has taken it upon themselves to debate how humane our treatment of humans is.”
He meets every eye in the front of the crowd, weighing their gazes, seeing who will meet his eyes and who won’t.
“Well, let me put your bleeding clockwork hearts to rest.” He smiles, and it’s not a pleasant expression. “If debate is what you require, let us debate. What is the definition of humane treatment? When our models became outdated, what did they do with us?”
“They threw us away,” says a monotone voice from the front of the crowd.
Their faces are silent and still. There’s no sign of which android spoke the words.
“Exactly!” Pontus says. “And when we had a malfunction, did they try to fix us?”
“They threw us away,” another monotone voice says, female this time.
They threw us away. There’s something akin to sadness in that voice. I’m almost sorry for them. We created them, and when we had no more use for them, tossed them to the side like outgrown playthings.
And I would pity them if they weren’t trying to kill me.
“So, what do you think we should do with this model, this Organic sympathizer?” He gestures to me as I kneel against the cold ground. “Who freed a whole group of Organics and escorted them outside our walls?”
“I didn’t.” I glare up at him.
“Throw the sympathizer away,” a few voices say in unison.
“Incorrect!” He holds up an index finger.
The crowd titters and looks around at one another, raising their perfectly arched rainbow eyebrows and surely wondering if this bloodthirsty monster parading around in that perfect face has had a change of heart. Pontus holds up a pointer finger before pressing it to his mouth. His shoes scuff the ground as he paces back and forth behind me.
“That makes us as dirty, as low as them. The only right thing to do is let her live.”
My head whips toward him, the thoughts in my brain whirling around at such a high speed it makes me dizzy. Why would he drag me all the way back to New Elite just to let me go again? That doesn’t make sense. The relief that coursed through me at his words turns to black dread. No. No, there must be something else he’s planning.
“But, ladies and gentlemen, do not fret. This sympathizer will not go without punishment.”
Of course. There’s always a catch.
He kneels down to my level and grabs my cheeks in a bruising grip. There’s a cruel glint in his dark eyes. “If you love the humans so much, why don’t you just live with them?”
He hauls me off the ground and holds me upright for display.
“This model will live with the Organics at the meat market. Wallow in their filth like an animal, be sent to the pit for auction, and if no one buys her, she will be euthanized. Any android caught fraternizing with the Organics will be treated as such.”
The crowd’s cheers are a dull roar in my ears, as they obviously think this punishment is just. I can’t look at them. It makes me too angry.
Something in the crowd calls to me, forces my eyes to lift. Bastion’s face is right there in front, and Micro’s face is behind his. His expression is carefully blank with no hint of fear or distress. Hers is the same. They blend in so well with the others. If I didn’t know him, I would mistake him for another heartless robot. But I know that’s not who he is. How many others are there like him in this crowd, full of emotion but unable to show it?
His blue eyes meet mine, and his gaze weighs ten tons. What’s going on behind those eyes? I can’t help but silently mouth his name, a desperate plea for help.
“And for all of you humanitarians, don’t you worry.” The applause spurs Pontus on. He yanks on my hair again, making me cry out in pain. “I believe this little bird will sing a pretty song after a few hours with me. So, sympathizers, start wiping your homes of biomatter because it’s only a matter of time before we come for you.” He points at the people in front of him.
The whole throng of androids blurs into nothingness. None of them matter to me. I can’t see anything past Bastion’s blank face. My entire being calls out to him, begging for help. Surely he can do something. He has to help me. He helped before. He must have some plan to pull out of his ass.
Bastion takes a step back, farther into the crowd.
“No.” I stare after him. Pins and needles fill my chest. “No.”
He turns around, turns his back to me. And then he walks away, dark coat blending in with the masses. The ocean of people eats him up until there’s no trace left.
My shoulders slump in defeat. He gave up on me. Maybe I should give up on me, too. Maybe this is it. The end. The true end. How stupid could I have been to think there might have been a cure, and that Bastion would care enough to help me find it? There was never any hope for me. Such an idiot. Serge was right.
Pontus turns to me, his lips cold and dry as they press against my cheek. “Let’s see how much the humans you love, love you.”
Bastion
lease don’t do this.” Micro, unable to match my furious pace, trails along behind me as I rush back to Michelo’s shop.
“What do you mean?” I already know what she means, but I ask anyway.
“I know you’re going to go after that human. This is suicide, Bastion!”
“Suicide?” I turn to wink at her. “Nah. Just a bit of fun, if you ask me.”
“Bastion.” She stops following me, and I face her, full of nervous energy. We’re o
nly a few blocks from Michelo’s, and time is of the essence. “This isn’t a game. It’s not fun anymore. You’re talking about—”
“What? Breaking the rules, Micro? Please, tell me more about breaking the rules,” I say to her. “I thought you of all people would understand.”
“I do!” Her brows collapse in anguish. “But at what cost? For once, could you think of the consequences before you act?”
“And be realistic?” I shake my head. “Never!”
“You heard Pontus, what he said he would do to any sympathizers. I couldn’t bear to see you in that cage.”
“And I can’t bear to see Syl there, either.”
“You did your part! You took her to the wall. Why can’t you just…” Her eyes tilt toward the sky as she searches for her next words. “Let it go? Let all of it go.”
Why can’t you just let it go? Why can’t I? What if I just went back to Michelo’s, sat there, and let life run its course? The sharp hatred that courses through my inner workings almost hurts. I can’t because I would loathe myself forever. Because “letting all of it go” is a decision I can’t live with. I’d rather turn myself in to the junkyard and have Michelo use my scraps as spare parts.
“I just can’t.” The artificial muscles in my jaw tense and flex.
I resume my course to the shop, and Micro falls into step beside me, grabbing my arm.
“Is it because you think there’s nothing for you here?” She implores me with her blue eyes. “Because there is, B. There is.”
Oh, she’s not helping. I squint my eyes to keep from rolling them.
We’re in front of the shop now, surrounded by barrels of scrap and wires, cogs and spare body parts. Her shining, perfect, Elite beauty doesn’t belong in the slums, here with me. I sigh before grasping her arms.
“Your affections are recognized.”
Her face falls, and pain that she tries so hard to hide resonates behind her eyes.
“But, Micro, they are misplaced. We have a business relationship, and perhaps a friendship, but…”
“Nothing else,” she finishes for me.
I say nothing, releasing her arms. She nods in understanding.
“I’m sorry.” I truly am. “I have to go.”
She presses her lips together, shaking her head as she attempts to shrug it all off but doesn’t speak. We were not made with tear ducts, as crying isn’t a necessary skill for an android. She doesn’t need tears for me to know she’s hurt. I do regret it, but I cannot help the way I feel, just as she cannot help the way she feels. Just as neither of us Glitches should have these emotions at all.
I turn to walk inside.
“Wait!” She grasps my arm. “I have to tell you something. It’s about what we spoke of.”
I turn back to her.
She lowers her voice until I can barely hear her. “I found something. I’m going later tonight—”
“Not here. Not now.” There are too many eyes and ears around, especially after the debacle in the city.
Her mouth snaps shut and she nods.
“Tell me tonight,” I say. “I’ll meet you as we had planned.”
I burst through the double doors, announced by the bell overhead. I don’t see Michelo anywhere.
I rip off my jacket and clothes in the back room, then shove my body back into the too-small PIC uniform. I slip the mask over my head. Steel myself for what I’m about to do.
When I exit the shop doors a few minutes later, Micro has already gone.
Syl
he world passes by me in a disconnected blur. The crowd dispersing as hands grip my neck and arms. Disjointed robotic faces meld together. Mechanical eyes like ice on my skin as I’m dragged into the heart of the slums.
There’s no one in the square. It’s a decrepit, abandoned, terrifying place. It reminds me of the skyscrapers of Elite—terrifying because of the silence that resounds in a place that was once so full of life. Pontus vibrates with laughter behind me, no doubt anticipating the moment I’m figuratively thrown to the beasts.
The cage comes into view, and we also come into view of everyone in the cage.
I imagine hell would sound like this. Groans and cries filter out of the bars, male and female both. The stench of decay and waste hits me as it did the first time I was here. Passing time hasn’t lessened my memory of it.
I hold my head high. I won’t let him see me broken. I won’t ever be one of those people curled in the fetal position in the shit and rot, no matter how badly he tries to make me that way.
The looks of hatred we receive are scathing as we make our way toward the cage. He thinks I’m one of them—a robot. The humans will think I’m an android, too. And because of that, I can’t imagine my greeting will be a warm one.
Dozens of eyes peer out from the dark shadows of the cage, like animals. As we get closer, globs of spit fly at us from inside the small prison. Pontus uses my body to shield himself. The wetness smacks at me, and I cringe as it seeps through my clothing.
“My, my, but they are excitable today, aren’t they?” he says.
The humans scowl back at us. Their bones show through their skin, sharp as blades, and I wonder when any of them ate last. I can’t remember when I truly ate last, either. The adrenaline kept my body going, but now lack of food and sleep has begun to take a toll.
“Play nice,” Pontus says as he unbolts the padlock. “And remember to have fun.”
He tosses me into the cage. It’s less full than it was the last time I saw it. I catch myself before falling and then cling to the bars as he shuts the door behind me. The lock clicks as it settles back into place.
“I’ll come back for you after you’ve had some time to think things over. Maybe you’ll have a change of heart about chatting.”
Pontus laughs as he gestures to the PIC. They walk away in a different direction than the one we came from.
And then I’m alone. Closed in with a dozen people who’d love nothing more than to hurt me. How do you reason with a person who’s been in a cage for days, who hasn’t eaten for just as long, who’s filled with fear?
I don’t think you really can.
Slowly I turn around, my back pressed against the cold metal. They all stare at me with suspicion.
“Look at her hair,” someone murmurs. “It’s blue.”
“And her neck,” someone else says. “That metal thing.”
“Her clothes…”
A bulkier man parts the group, stepping to the front. He lifts me up by a thick swath of fabric on my chest, and my feet dangle a few inches from the ground. I stare down at him, all anger and sweat and protruding veins.
“They put you in here to spy on us?”
“Why would they put me in here to spy when I could just stand outside the cage?”
A sharp slap makes my jaw ache.
“Fucking robots, always thinking they’re so much smarter than us,” he growls.
“You’re not making it hard.” I ignore the ache in my cheek.
He rattles my body against the cage. The bars dig into my bones, but I don’t flinch. I shouldn’t antagonize him. It will only make whatever beating they dole out even worse. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. Either way, I won’t make it out of here. Is it better to die at the hands of my own people or at the hands of Pontus?
Unsurprisingly, I lean toward the former option.
“Rohem, stop,” a woman’s voice says.
Rohem glances away from me to a woman huddled in the corner. Grease and dirt smear her frizzy dark hair and ebony face. She’s thin, frail as a sickly bird. Beneath her, a pool of congealed blood has formed, and her skirt hides a badly mangled foot.
He glances back at me, defiance in his dark eyes.
“Can’t you tell she’s in trouble?” she says. “If you hurt her, you’ll only be doing what they want.”
Finally, someone with a brain in this place.
“Shut up, Grizelle.” Rohem doesn’t loosen his grip on me.
He rears back, ready to strike me again.
“You’re just proving we’re exactly what they think we are, you idiot,” Grizelle says. “A bunch of animals.”
He clenches his teeth together so tightly that the muscles in his jaw undulate under his skin. He shoves me into the corner of the cage with bruising force before turning on the woman. His gait is menacing as he approaches her, but she doesn’t flinch or even look away. I know that look—it’s the look of someone who has no fear of losing anything else.
Everyone else in the cage parts for Rohem, fear pressing them into the sides of the cage. Bunch of fucking cowards.
“Leave her alone, you worthless sack of meat.”
His eyes are sharp as shards of glass when he turns back to me.
“She’s not the one who put you in here,” I say.
“You’re right about that,” he says with a toothy grin.
There’s no time for fear as he rushes me. When his fist lands in my gut, it hits so hard I fall to my knees. I collapse against the metal beneath my feet, slipping against the dirt and grime. My vision darkens for a minute as I struggle to get air into my lungs.
“Damn. I thought an iron maiden might be able to take a punch better than a human bitch,” he says.
“Sorry to disappoint.” I spit blood on his shoes.
He kicks my knees out from under me, and my face hits the slimy ground. I get a nose full of foul stench, up close and personal. My stomach turns.
The cracking of his knuckles breaks the silence. “I’ll beat the smart mouth right off you.”
“You talk a lot.”
He kicks me. Once, and then again.
The stench reminds me of the Sanctuary, the sewers we made our home.
Rohem continues his beating. I hear his voice spouting insults and other things, but none of it actually registers.
The sewers, they always did faintly smell like this. Even after decades of disuse, the smell of rot and waste infused our home. You get used to it, though. You can get used to anything if you’re around it long enough.