“Raise your right arm up to shoulder height.”
I obeyed, feeling every single muscle work in conjunction together to raise my arm. Energy crackled through every nerve in my body. I felt powerful. I felt… whole.
Stop, I warned myself. You can’t forget who you are. You can’t enjoy this.
“Raise your left arm.”
I raised my left arm now to the same height. I couldn’t deny it: I had never felt this good in my entire life. Every part of my body was teeming with strength and grace, like I was constantly waking up from a refreshing nap. I flexed each of my fingers and toes, itching to run and to jump and to climb… and to kill.
“Please demonstrate your mobility.”
As if I haven’t enough already, I thought, rolling my eyes. The routine was the same every day: Wake up. Eat the small breakfast left for me on the ledge inside my confined quarters. Be escorted to the huge three-sided indoor training area. Demonstrate my abilities, sometimes for hours, in front of a large panel of white-coated individuals from important places inside and outside the city. Eat a small lunch. Attend extensive psychotherapy with a rotating roster of doctors. Eat dinner. Spend two hours doing absolutely nothing. Sleep. Repeat.
I decided to give my strength a go as well for my audience. I crossed to the opposite side of the training area to a bench with many metal weights stacked according to size on steel racks. Disregarding the proper use of such a setup, I grasped a forty-pound weight in each arm. Taking a few steps back, I hefted the weights waist high and took off at a dead sprint toward the far wall. When I reached the midpoint of the room, I threw my arms up with the weights and launched myself end over end, completing two complete hand-springs before letting the weights fall to the floor with a clang. My blood coursed through my veins with a dull roar; the feeling was nothing short of invigorating.
Stop, I had to warn myself again. They are making you feel this way. You must not forget who you are.
“Please demonstrate for us your combat ability.”
Ah, yes. My favorite part.
STOP. I shook my head, trying to clear their thoughts from my own. I’m just doing what they say. I will not enjoy this. I moved past the weight racks and picked up a long, slender wooden pole off of a different rack and took a “ready” stance in the center of the room. A door opened on the wall and an Enforcer appeared, wielding an identical weapon and wearing thick protective padding. He crossed the room until he stood just a few feet from me. A buzzer sounded, and his attack commenced.
Left. I saw his first attack coming before he had even planted his feet. I swung my staff out, catching the end of his, and used his own momentum to twirl to his other side and tap him lightly on the back of the knee.
Sweep. The next attack came low and fast, but not fast enough to even brush me. I hop-stepped backward and rapped my opponent on the shoulder. He seemed to be frustrated at the ease with which I was countering his attacks, and began to come after me with a series of lightening strikes. I parried and blocked one after the other, searching for an opening. Finally, he over-committed on one of his jabs and I seized the opportunity—literally—by grabbing his staff with both hands and pulling as hard as I could. As he sailed by, I stuck him solidly in the small of his back, sending him sprawling. I dropped my staff on the floor and stepped away, trying not to look too pleased with myself.
Keep it together. This is for their sick pleasure, not yours.
“Impressive!” A tall, broad shouldered man stepped away from the crowd of spectators and clapped his hands together slowly, sending the sound hollowly echoing throughout the training area. He had fiery red hair, telling me he was obviously not from within the city, and sported a bushy but neatly trimmed display of facial hair. “Very impressive. However,” he paused, turning to consider his fellow audience members, “not exactly the ‘weapon of the future’ like we were promised. I have several—dozens—of soldiers of her skill or greater. I feel as if I’ve wasted my time in coming here.”
“Is that so?”
I looked up sharply. The Executive rarely, if ever, attended these sessions. He stepped forward from near the back of the group, an immaculate white lab coat covering his suit. Murmurs broke out amongst the others as they realized who had been with them. I couldn’t help balling my fingers into fists behind my back but I kept my face expressionless.
“Gentlemen, I realize you have travelled a long way to see what we have to offer here today; and, as usual, Solstice will not disappoint. Doctors, the Renewal Test, please.”
“Sir, we’re not sure if the subject is ready for that. The lab experiments—”
“The Renewal Test, now. And I would like to perform it.” The Executive’s voice turned to ice in an instant. The outspoken doctor nodded sheepishly and retreated back into the group, ashamed. Someone handed the Executive a black metallic object—a handgun—and he and advanced toward me, smiling as if this were the only activity in life that brought him joy.
It probably is, I reminded myself sourly as he drew closer, the familiar scent of vanilla invading my nostrils as he drew nearer.
“Gentlemen, before I demonstrate our latest scientific development, allow me to just applaud our test subject here; a mere sixty days ago, she was incarcerated for rebellion-related crimes. Now, she is the perfect model of obedience and submission. Let’s recognize her… rehabilitation… shall we?” He grinned ear-to-ear at me. A few of the spectators awkwardly clapped, and the bearded man frowned. The Executive reached out with a single slender finger and caressed my cheek; I fought the urge to turn away or vomit—perhaps both. “Don’t worry, darling. This won’t hurt… anyone but you.” He promptly jammed the handgun into my abdomen and pulled the trigger.
The report was deafening, but the pain was louder. I could almost feel my tissues and my organs being shredded as the bullet tore through me and exited somewhere to the left of my spine. I collapsed, falling onto my backside, watching the blood begin to seep through the front of my white tunic. The stain spread like the opening petals of a spring rose in the sunshine, slowly growing wider and wider until, as gradually as it began, it subsided. I reached down to feel the wound, but the Executive snatched my hand back and we both watched with mirrored intensity as the skin slowly stitched itself back together with excruciatingly intricate detail until all that remained was an angry red welt and a splotch of rapidly drying blood.
“This, gentlemen, is why you pay Solstice to protect you.” He pulled me roughly to my feet and dragged me in front of the stunned gathering, tearing the small hole in my tunic wide open so that everyone could see the miraculous healing. “Our scientists have now developed a death-defying self-rejuvenation code that can be coded into strategic cell clusters. The technology has been proven in tissue, bone, and even stem cells. This subject, gentlemen, in all but invincible!”
The Executive grinned broadly, throwing out his arms to a huge burst of applause. Everyone began talking at once, asking questions and shouting out what sounded like money offers for me. I held my stomach and tried to fight the nausea; the wound had sealed itself, but the pain would not go away; I knew this from experience. Many, many holes had been drilled through my body on an operating table until the desired effect had been reached.
“That was… incredible.” I looked up at the bearded man, who was standing over me and looking very concerned. I tried to respond, but instead vomited all over his shoes. He chuckled and gently patted my back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I managed, wiping my mouth with my sleeve and nudging his arm away from me. “Of course I’m not okay. That psychopath just shot me!”
“What is your name?”
“046730,” I automatically answered.
“Please. You must have an actual name.”
I looked around. The Executive was busily answering questions and dictating notes to an assistant who had appeared out of nowhere and was now furiously scribbling things down on a digipad; everyone else seemed otherwise engaged.
“Natalie,” I said quietly. I pressed both hands against my forehead and fought of the urge to vomit again. Come on! I urged myself. You’re stronger than this!
“How did you get here Natalie?”
I dropped my hands and glared at the man suspiciously. “You hear him,” I said, throwing up an arm in the Executive’s direction. “I’m a criminal. My punishment is to get shot every time a group of you vultures comes through looking for new ways to kill off your enemies. Or better yet, how to kill off your friends.”
The man chuckled, shaking his head. “You misunderstood me Natalie; how did you get here? To this room I mean?” I just stared at him, confused.
“I was escorted? My room is in ‘B’ section, three corridors down—”
“046730! What are the rules about talking to the buyers?” The Executive swooped over and brushed me roughly to the side. “No outside contact, subject!” He grabbed the man firmly by the arm and led him in the opposite direction, a bright, sickeningly false smile on his face. Only by sheer luck did I notice the slim paper card that slipped out of the bearded man’s sleeve. I reached down to retrieve it for him. I opened my mouth to say something, but he shook his head “no” in the tiniest of ways, smiled, and began animatedly chatting with the world’s most evil man. I didn’t think twice, I just slipped the card into my canvass boot and struggled with my pain until the excitement died down. I didn’t know why I did it; something about the man seemed… genuine.
“If you will all follow my assistant, she will lead you to the offices where we can further conduct our business.” The Executive ushered everyone out of a side door, which slid close with a loud hiss. I was immediately aware of the thickness of the air, he and I being the only people left in the room.
“Well, that was quite a bit of fun wasn’t it?” He seemed to glide toward me. I lowered my eyes, then darted them back up to meet his. No weakness. Stay strong. He stopped in front of me and looked me up and down. I stared straight ahead, and noticed that he had a few specks of blood on his lab coat.
My blood, I reminded myself.
“What was did that man say to you?”
“He asked me my name.”
“And what did you tell him?” The Executive began circling me like some kind of ravenous animal, one foot in front of the other, arms clasped behind his back.”
“046730,” was all I answered. He kept circling, cold eyes glued to my face, trying to sense out my fear or something.
“Raise your arms,” he barked abruptly. I obeyed with only the slightest hesitation. Without warning, he was running his hands over every inch of my body, roughly but thoroughly searching me. I ground my teeth as his hands lingered several times, but I stood my ground and refused to show my disgust. When he found nothing, he made a frustrated sound and turned his back on me, running his hands through his hair with a sigh.
“Return to your quarters; there will be no therapy this afternoon. No meals either, for breaking the rule and talking to a buyer.”
“There was no such rule,” I argued, clenching and unclenching my fists.
“There is now.” The Executive didn’t look back as he strode to the sliding door and disappeared in a flourish, stripping off his coat as the door slid shut. Beyond caring whether I was being monitored or not, I screamed as loud as I possibly could, collapsing to my knees. My stomach still throbbed horribly, though the nausea had gone away. I sat slumped on my knees for the better part of fifteen minutes, waiting for an Enforcer to arrive so I could be escorted back to my quarters. None ever came.
Tentatively, I rose to my feet and moved to the sliding door; it hissed open for me just as it had for the others, to my surprise. I had never been alone in the facility without an escort. After spending two months with an armed guard never more than ten feet away, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. My first thought was to escape, but such a notion was impossible on many, many levels. For starters, I had absolutely no idea where I was in the building, let alone the city. There was no way I would go unmonitored long enough to make it very far before I was tracked down—and punished severely. And, of course, there was always my node—the pesky little computer still buzzed me awake in the wee morning hours, tempting me to try and scrape the damned thing out with a fork sometimes. If I did somehow manage to leave the building, finding me would be as easy as the press of a button. No, escape was clearly off the table for me. That didn’t mean I couldn’t explore a little, though.
Instead of taking a right into the corridor outside the training area like I would if I were heading back to my room, I took a left instead. The hallway continued featurelessly for a few dozen yards before making a ninety-degree right turn into a large open area filled with long grey tables arranged into neat rows, just like the cafeteria in the Dormitory building had been. With a pang of sadness, I wondered if my classmates even remembered who I was by now. They all probably thought I was a traitor. An enemy of the state. A Deviant. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forged on, hurrying through the eating area and darting down the first hallway I could find.
The hallway I had chosen seemed to be a service hallway of some sort, narrow and unpainted. I followed it around two turns before it was abruptly cut off by a battered metal stairway that led steeply up into a solid-looking trapdoor in the ceiling. Pushing my luck, I pulled myself up the stairway and gave the trapdoor a shove. With a long, rusty creak, I pushed it open just enough to climb up and through, hauling myself up onto a long metal walkway that seemed to hang above the normal ceiling height for the whole floor. I closed the trapdoor as quietly as I could, making sure I could reopen it from my side before continuing along the slim metal catwalk.
I had only walked a few feet before I heard the voices. There were dozens of them, saying things in hushed tones that I couldn’t quite make out. I almost turned back, but my curiosity propelled me forward like a powerful magnet. Just ahead, the ceiling seemed to stop abruptly and I would see down into a huge room filled with many people who seemed to be of all social classes and ages. They were huddled around more long tables, but instead of eating they were placing small pieces of plastic and metal together and passing them into compact machines that appeared to be fusing the components together. Further down, the strange process seemed to involve putting the completed components together inside of larger casings, and then having all kinds of chips and wires attached to each. It took me a few moments before I realized it was some kind of assembly center for electronic components. Based on the number of armed Enforcers spread throughout the room—only two, it seemed—I could guess that these weren’t considered high risk Rehabilitation subjects. I scowled, watching them work; Rehabilitation wasn’t real, at least not how everyone viewed it. I could see it for what it was: a fear tactic to get citizens to obey the laws unquestioningly, with the added benefit of a terrified workforce that believed higher production would help them rejoin society.
I continued down the catwalk, careful to stay in the shadows so I wouldn’t be spotted. The Enforcers didn’t seem too concerned with security; one of them fiddled with various buttons and switches on his weapon while the other was obviously dozing, head lolling against his shoulder as he leaned precariously against the wall. The workers were talking quietly amongst themselves while they worked; the scene was of no particular interest to me until I saw her cross the room to place a bin of finished electrical components on a shelving unit right beneath me.
“Alicia!”
I hit the deck as soon as I said it, unable to help myself from blurting out her name in sheer exhilaration. A few people looked up, puzzled, but they quickly went back to what they were doing. I stared, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me. Sure enough, the dark hair and green eyes were unmistakable. Though she appeared noticeably thinner than the fateful day I had seen her last, she looked no worse for the wear. My heart filled with an indescribable joy, almost like taking a deep, long breath after being trapped underwater for far too long. My best friend hadn’t died like the sadistic masked man had told me; she was alive and well! For a moment I forgot the Executive, the therapy, the Renewal procedures, the painful tests, all of it. Alicia was alive!
Alicia made her way from the center of the room to a table near the wall, out of earshot from my perch above. With another jolt of excitement I saw that both Jonah and Abigail were seated at her table, and both of them seemed unhurt. I could only imagine how awful it was for them to be there; they hadn’t really done anything wrong. Then again, people might think that the Enforcers were lightening up if they weren’t stripped of their citizenship as well as Alicia and I. The city was all about mind games, and no pawn could remain unchecked. I watched the three of them discuss nothing of importance quietly to themselves while they busied themselves with another bin full of components to be assembled.
While I was ecstatic for their well-being, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. All they had to do was behave like robots for a period of time, and they would rejoin society as Surgos, free to live life once again as a citizen. I had been singled out, separated, and turned into a monster. I tried to push my envy back down to the pit in my mind that hid all my other emotions.
You’re not like this, I had to remind myself. Be happy for them. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of living life as a second-class Surgo anyway, especially after witnessing the bombing. You like it as you are now, too, a small voice in the back of my head whispered. You’re powerful now, and you know it. I pinched myself hard on the back of my hand, quickly expelling the thoughts.
I wanted to call out to Alicia, to let her know that I was okay, and that I was terribly lonely without her company. I wanted to leap over the railing of the narrow balcony and run to her, to hug her tightly and to feel like I had a friend again. Alicia was the closest thing I had to a sister; a sister who had come back from the dead. I didn’t do any of those things, of course, and after another several minutes of surveying her and our former Perfects, I was startled out of my thoughts by one of the Enforcers ordering everyone in the assembly room to line up on the far wall so that they could be escorted back to the cafeteria for the noon meal. As they filed out of the room in single file, I felt my hopes sink. It was probably the last time I was going to be able to ever wander the building unattended, and therefore the last time I would see Alicia—or anyone except the occasional group of buyers—indefinitely. A second pair of Enforcers arrived to relieve the first pair and the door hissed shut, leaving me alone with the relieving guards.
“Command wants us to get all these components down to the ordinance assembly dock before the sheep come back from grazing,” one the Enforcers said, grabbing two finished bins and stacking them on a wheeled transportation cart.
Sheep? I said to myself, repulsed. Is that all they think of them?
“We can take our time; they’re supposed to be doing behavior evaluations after the meal. That’ll take at least an hour.” His partner responded, setting down his weapon on a table and taking a seat with a sigh. “Man, what a night. I had to pull double duty again.”
“You, me, and everyone else.” The first Enforcer grunted in agreement. “Nightstalker attacks are picking up again for the summer.”
“Nightstalkers?” His partner scoffed. “You sound like one of them.” He jerked a gloved thumb at the door. “Just call them what they are; rebels.”
“I am calling them what they are; they call themselves Nightstalkers, and so does everyone else.”
“Suit yourself.”
The two of them ceased their conversation to begin loading and organizing the finished components onto transportation carts, pausing for the occasional crude joke. I rubbed my palms up and down my calves and thighs, trying to keep my legs and feet from falling asleep in my uncomfortable kneeling position. The Nightstalkers are just… rebels? It didn’t make sense at first, but it became more and more clear the longer I considered it. If rebels were indeed staging attacks on Enforcers inside the city, the Executive would need a cover story in order to keep the existence of rebels a secret in the first place. So much for huge cyborgy monsters, I thought, thinking back on my own childish fear of them. A childish fear that existed because my parents had been killed in a “Nightstalker attack.” My blood froze cold; had my parents really been killed in a rebel attack? What if my parents actually were rebels themselves? Who could tell with all of the lies and all of the deception overlapping… one thing was clear, though: my parents were part of a huge government cover-up, somehow.
“You and I have a score to settle.” The Executive’s chilling words from our first encounter rang in my mind, sending goose bumps shooting up my arms and across my back. The two had to be connected somehow, and if I ever escaped my lonely prison I was going to find out how. Not that I had any other plans for my future.
“We’re supposed to draw out Public Enemy Number Two tonight.” My ears perked up and I pulled myself from my thoughts to eavesdrop again. The Enforcers had loaded up all the carts and were seated again, taking a break before the “sheep” returned from their meal.
“So I heard. What’s the plan this time?”
“You didn’t hear this from me, but…” the Enforcer lowered his voice and I had to strain my ears to catch the rest. “…apparently a few important people let word leak outside of the city that we’ll be moving a group of rebel prisoners from the city to one of the production farms outside the wall.”
“You think they’ll fall for it?”
“They’d be stupid not to try. Sure, they can get inside the city just fine, but they can’t get any prisoners out with the nodes implanted. Since the nodes are deactivated outside city limits, it’s the perfect time to stage a rescue… and a perfect way to set a trap.”
“I’d love to see what happens to the rebel forces if we capture Number Two,” the other Enforcer said, barely able to contain his glee.
“It’s a kill mission,” his partner corrected him excitedly. “We’re going to strap a bunch of these sheep with explosives and turn the whole group into vapor when his group tries their rescue!”
The two enforcers cackled maliciously as they pushed their carts out the door and into the hallway. The door hissed shut again and I was left to myself finally, alone above an empty room and armed with more knowledge than I possibly knew how to process. These people are sick, was all I could manage to think to myself. Laughing at the thought of murdering dozens of innocent people just to kill on man… one boy. I hadn’t forgotten Sam… I owed him my life, of course. It was hard to imagine that the violet eyed boy who had laid down his life for Alicia and I was also the second most dangerous enemy that Solstice was fighting. “Number One” must have been a kitten, or possibly some other sort of harmless animal who had done nothing wrong. I shook my head sadly, hoping briefly that, wherever Sam was, he hadn’t heard about the plan to “move” the prisoners. I sat there for the better part of an hour, unwilling to venture back to the trapdoor in case I missed any other important revelations from the Enforcers or anyone else.
Eventually, below me, the door hissed open one again and all the Rehabilitation subjects filed back in, chattering quietly as usual. They actually do kind of look like sheep, I couldn’t help but notice as the filed in and filled in at their respective tables without being given any instructions.
“Subjects, listen up!” A stout man in a red tunic who had entered with the Enforcers strode to the front of the room and waited patiently for the noise to quiet down. “The results of the behavior evaluations will be sent to the Rehabilitation panels in less than a week. Those of you who qualify for review after this evaluation will be notified seven days before the review panel is set to take place.”
Happy murmurs swept across the room. It looked as if nearly half the group expected to be up for review; to my surprise and happiness, Alicia, Jonah, and Abigail seemed to be part of the review-worthy half. The three of them whispered excitedly to one another until the man in the red tunic hushed everyone again.
“Next week, we will begin our outdoor work sessions. I know most of you have been looking forward to that; Solstice’s food doesn’t grow itself, you know!” More pleased mutterings. “Finally, we have a very special event planned for tonight!”
My heart fluttered. Please don’t be what I think it is, I prayed, clenching my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white. Please, please, please…
“The Executive, the wonderful man that he is—” I almost scoffed, but managed to choke it back. “—has approved our outdoor astronomy education!” A smattering of applause came from the group, most of it from the younger subjects. “For safety’s sake against Nightstalkers, we will be splitting the group in two. First group will go out tonight, second group three nights from now. The city lights are bright, of course, so we will be traveling—that’s right—outside the wall!”
For his credit, the man tried to sound enthusiastic, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He had probably grown attached to his Rehabilitation subjects, just like any normal human would. It was exactly as I feared; half the faces I could see would simply cease to exist tomorrow morning. My eyes wandered to Alicia, who was one of the few who looked skeptical about the arrangements. I crossed my fingers. Alicia had defied death once before… could she do it again?
“I’m going to pass out a stack of cards,” the man announced as cheerfully as an executioner could manage. “Keep them face down until I tell you to take a look.” With more excited chattering, the subjects passed out the cards amongst themselves. I strained to try and peek at Alicia’s card, but she did her job of keeping it hidden. When all the cards were passed out, the man clapped his hands together and struggled to keep on a cheery demeanor. “Everyone, turn your cards over! Red cards go with me tonight; blue cards have to wait!”
Time slowed to a crawl. Alicia was smiling, laughing at some quip Jonah had made. She turned her card over, face falling into a frown as she saw her fate revealed on the other side.
Blue. My heard leapt and I let out the breath I didn’t ever realize I had been holding in. Both Abigail and Jonah showed red cards, and I could tell they were expressing their disappointment at being split up. Then, before I had the chance to even let my heartbeat recover from the suspense, Alicia turned to her neighbor and tapped his red card, pleading for something I was hoping so adamantly against.
No! NO! I wanted to shout to her, to warn her, to stop her, but I couldn’t. Alicia, NO!
I knew I was being a coward in that moment, and because of it, I sealed my best friend’s fate forever. She smiled delightedly at the man next to her and happily traded her life away for a shiny, blood red card.
ns 172.70.131.146da2