It’s been ten years since I was a broken thirteen-year-old in that prison. It’s been ten years since I was a new recruit trying to find my place in the rebellion. It’s been ten years since Ari and I first realized we could die together.
It’s been ten years since the communist resistance was just starting to blossom into a formidable storm of rage. It’s been ten years since we were just an annoyance to the status quo. It’s been ten years since they underestimated us.
It’s been ten years since I first picked up that high school chemistry book and read it in the sun by a window.
The resistance really started picking up speed the year that I joined it. Veritas, the land controlled by resistance fighters, grew more and more each day. The borders we had to patrol and secure grew longer and longer, grew more numerous. And so did the fabric of people patrolling them.
We kept getting new recruits. Recruits we rescued from prison. Recruits we freed when we took control of the land of their ex-owners. Recruits that escaped by themselves and found their own ways of joining us.
Of course, many people who were rescued by us didn’t join the resistance. We forged them secret identities. Our IT people are really amazing. The legend is that the resistance itself was founded by a pair of synths who secretly learned how to code. Anyways. We forged them secret identities. And they lived their lives pretending to be freeborn citizens out in the world. Often they spied for us here and there, and helped our operations in other ways. That help was invaluable.
As more and more territory fell under our control, the government tried harder and hard to bring us down. And missions got more dangerous. Mark, myself, and the other medical staff always had our hands full with patients after most missions. But we had more medical personnel too. And better-trained personnel. We could save most people.
I am a fully-formed doctor now. I read all the textbooks and learned all the things. I also learned so much by helping and watching the nurses and doctors as they treated injuries and diseases. All this hands-on practice gave me the guts I needed to be an effective medical professional.
I love my job. It’s beyond my wildest dreams to get to be doing this work. And I’m an inspiration to the new generation of young, freed synths who want to pursue education.
I am also able to have my voice heard. And my poems circulate throughout the resistance, being told by word of mouth from one neighbourhood to another. It helps keep the morale up. To share poems and sing songs. I try to not let the praise get to my head. It’s just my way of contributing. Everyone has their own way of contributing.
I’m not just a doctor and a poet but also a soldier. We all are. Ari and I go into battle together. With our laser guns and jet packs and shields and bombs and grenades and sonic piercers. There are so many weapons. And new weapons to learn about each year as the rebels and the government compete in an arms race. Battle is chaotic and terrifying and difficult. But it’s thrilling in its own way.
I’ve watched dozens of comrades die. The grief is almost unbearable. When I was a young recruit I was never prepared for this sort of grief. Not when I was a thirteen-year-old deciding to stay with the resistance. But at the same time there’s a sort of victory to the loss. They died. Of course. But they died as free people. They died standing on their feet and standing against those who sought to oppress them.
I’d be honoured to die in such a way. Even though I still fear death. We all do.
Elsa died. She died honourably, shielding her unit from radiation. She was an IT person before her death. And she helped dozens of people get onto official registers and into a free life as citizens. She was a fighter, through and through. In every part of her life. And she always told us that it was her destiny to die in the war.
We’ll see her again in the Green Place.
Finn is still with us. They are an agricultural specialist. They work hard and they fight harder. But they work and they fight freely and with dignity. For a cause they truly believe in. Thanks to them all of our people are fed. All of our people can stay healthy. They can heal. Finn is also a very selfless, brave soldier. They’ve gotten injured so many times trying to keep others safe. And thankfully, thankfully, they’ve healed each and every time.
Ryden died. David died. But Rachel is still with us. Aside from being our unofficial leader, though she denies this vehemently, she’s also a super soldier. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
Ari is a weapons technologist when he’s not in battle. It takes such a sharp, complex mind and such a fine hand to be able to manufacture weapons that can take on the government and its militaries. Ari’s ex-owner would never dream of him being able to do this.
Besides being a weapons technologist, Ari is also my husband. It gives me such joy to be able to call him this. Him and I got married on my eighteenth birthday. There were some people who told us to wait. Told us that this was too early. But we’d been together for five years at that point. And we’d known each other for eight. More waiting seemed like overkill.
Our wedding was done in the traditional Veritas way in the traditional Veritas religion. Under a half-dome formed by people’s joined, raised up hands and with a cutting and joining of our ring fingers to mingle our blood. We looked into each other’s eyes and we spoke our vows and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
There was singing and dancing and laughter all over the block. A Veritasian priest made a speech about the transformative power of love and how it can heal all wounds and right all wrongs. Ari and I felt the love we had for each other. Felt the love that the community had for us and that we had for them. Felt the love that united all synths and freedom fighters the whole world over. And we danced.
Our wedding night was in the medical supply room. Next to the pile of textbooks I got my education from. It was the perfect place.
We attended other weddings. And they were all such joyful, momentous occasions.
I’ve also attended victory celebrations for when a major battle was won. They were meant to boost morale and celebrate our sacrifices. But they never had that effect. They were always celebrated when the memories of fallen comrades were fresh in our minds like blood on the pavement. But still, there was dancing. And there was a sense of relief.
And we celebrated victory celebration after victory celebration after victory celebration.
Meanwhile the Veritas religion also grew and developed along with the resistance. People got visions of the afterlife and visits from the dead. We congregated together to decide what our values were and what we stood for. New forces and experiences joined us and fleshed out our worldview.
Just like the old-time communists we based ourselves off of, the central tenants of our worldview are always equality, community, and universal love.
Slowly my faith grew along with our faith. I became more secure. More sure. That the good in this would was more powerful than the bad in it. That we would ultimately win. I became more sure of the afterlife and of miracles and of the overcoming power of love.
And my spirit soared. It hurt and grieved and feared and remembered the past. But it also raged and danced and soared.
And I was exactly who I was meant to be in this world.
A warrior, a husband, a friend, a poet and a healer.
And here I am now. In the back of a transporter. In my light body armour that protects my core. Beside Ari and Davina and Colton and Trissa and Valencia and so many other people. We are on our way to a communications tower controlled by the government. If we can get that tower a large chunk of the government’s communications will be cut off. That will be a huge win for us.
The transporter we’re all standing in rocks this way and that as it gets hit with enemy fire. It’s strong enough to withstand almost anything though, and just keeps going. If only our armour were made of such strong materials.
We all sing a Veritasian prayer as we fly closer and closer to where the battle is already raging. Our voices are low and solemn and beautiful. I make sure to get a good look at my comrades, because this might be the last time I see them.
The determination and the fear are almost tangible.
Finally the transporter wall lifts open and we stream out into the battle occurring within the control rooms of the communication tower. There are people sprawled out all across the floor and around the sky, and laser shots flying in every direction, with deflection walls coming into existence and being cancelled out and misdirectors firing every which way. It’s fast-paced and confusing and chaos.
Deadly, beautiful chaos.
Adrenaline sings through me as I activate my shield by pressing my chest controls and and take to the air on my jet pack by lifting my shoulders. Immediately my shield is hit by shield cancelling rays from the enemy side. I duck and weave through enemy lasers as they fly all around me. I throw sheild cancelling rays at enemy shields and shoot at them before they get their shields back up. I try to avoid shield cancelling rays from the other side.
Lasers burst against my shield in small explosions of light. Weapons sing and scream around me. Everything inside me is on high, precise alert. It’s exhausting and terrifying and maddening and magnificent. My breath catches in my chest as lasers bounce off the very edges of my shield. Mere millimeters awy from gaining access to my soft, fragile body.
I spin and turn and duck and bend and zip and glide my way through the cavernous light gray.
I see Colton get hit by a laser.
“For Veritas!” He screams with the last edges of his life. My heart thuds in my chest. It’s a horrible, ghastly sight. The blood spilling from him bright red against the gray floor.
I see an enemy soldier die too. It soothes my heart. I suppose that’s awefully callous of me. But I have no kindness left over for those who have taken so much from me. From us.
We press forwards, getting farther and farther down the large gray halls until the huge metallic feet of the communications tower is within sight. All we have to do is fly up and blast the tower. Once we gain access to it. Which won’t be easy at all.
The owners bring in reinforcements, just as our own side did with us. Soldiers dressed in the burning red of the government forces tumble in and take flight. I barely notice their faces. Only their positions and their aims.
But one of the soldiers makes me do a double take. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Straight nose. Is that Arden?! It doesn’t matter. I just have to keep pressing forwards.
Suddenly the enemy soldier that looks like Arden does something that surprises all of us. He flies up to the top of the tower and hits it with his ray gun and lasers.
The enemies are flabbergasted, and they still for a moment. Us rebels use this moment to shoot many of them. It’s a chance we’ve never had before. One we may never have again. To kill so very many soldiers.Once their numbers thin out, we fly towards the communications tower.
In this moment they come back to their senses and start shooting at us. But we shoot back. They’re outnumbered and outmatched. We keep on gaining ground.
The traitor soldier is shot out of the sky and he falls to the ground. It’s only a shoulder wound, thankfully, but those can hurt. But two of our soldiers take his place at the top of the tower.
The battle rages on and my armour gets torn and my ribs get grazed. But eventually, eventually, we take out the tower. We fight our way back to the transporter. And we bring the traitor with us, still bleeding.
We are unable to take Colton’s corpse. We will have to hold the funeral without a body. Something that we have to do far too often. Something that Veritas has a ceremony for.
He’s in the Green Place now, with the martyrs and yearners.
I do first aid to all the injured soldiers. Pressing bandages onto their wounds. Rubbing poultices onto their cuts. Getting the injured into resting positions. Soothing people’s minds.
I get to take a good look at the soldier who betrayed the government as I press healing creams and cotton onto his shoulder, holding them in place with medical tape. He looks strikingly like Arden. Like an adult version of Arden.
But no. That can’t be. Arden would never betray the government. Would never fight for the rebels. But still my past rears its ugly head to haunt me. I feel so small in front of him. But I do my job. Because I have to.
Just like when I was a child.
Soon enough all the soldiers are dropped off into their own compounds and the medical rooms of our compounds are full. I go from compound to compound treating the most serious afflictions while nurses work around me.
The traitor soldier is kept in an isolated closet, because people don’t fully trust him yet. He’s not injured seriously enough to warrant my seeing to him. It would be better if I saw him but he’ll survive as he is. Even if he has to fight for it.
He creeps me out too much. So I try my best to ignore him.
Once everyone is in a stable condition, us medical personnel can rest.
So I sleep.
I wake up late in the morning and catch up to Ari who is outside training.
Colton’s funeral is about to start. We all go to the meeting hall, hands cupped in front of us. We sit down and all take a turn saying something about Colton and honouring the life he lived. The priest gives a speech on Colton’s life, his humanity, and his sacrifice. We raise our hands into the air in a symbolic act of letting go. And we sing a mournful melody.
There is dancing. In every Veritas event there is dancing. I join in. As I always do. Ari doesn’t join me this time though. He never dances at funerals.
He does however dance in the victory celebration that happens right after the funeral. Victory celebrations for battles with casualties are always somber, as much as we try to be happy. Everyone only goes through the motions. I don’t know why we still have these. It doesn’t boost morale.
It’s amidst all this fake celebration that I can’t take it anymore. I have to go check on the mystery man. So I leave the concrete repurposed driveway and the energetic circle dance and walk up the stairs.
I feel as if I am in some kind of trance. I drift into the newcomer’s room and close the door behind me. He looks up from his spot on the floor and I look down on him.
“Why are you still here?” I ask.
“Because I wouldn’t tell them my reasons for betraying my side.”
“So why did you betray your side?” I sit down next to him. The tension in the room vibrates between us.
“Because I did things in my past that I need to make up for.” That’s such a fucking vague answer. It doesn’t tell me anything.
“What does that mean?” I ask him, slightly irritated.
“Do you promise not to tell the others?”
“I do,” I lie.
“First of all, are you the one named Luca?” What kind of question is that?
“I am. Why?”
“I knew it was you! Luca! It’s me, Arden!” My heart freezes in my chest.
“What do you want,” is all I can say.
“I’m sorry. I was really unfair in the past. And I’m sorry for that. I want to make it up to you.”
I don’t believe him. But part of me wants to. Part of me wants him to be sorry. But I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I’m confused and I’m afraid. I need my people to help me through this. I need their strength. I can’t face Arden alone.
“I’m going to get some others for backup,” I tell him in a blank tone.
“No. You’re not.” Why does he think he can tell me what to do?
“Yes. I am.”
“They’ll just interfere with us.”
“You abused me. Maybe they should interfere with us.”
I turn to leave.
“I wouldn’t do that I’d I were you.”
I turn back around and Arden is holding a tiny laser gun up to my head. So this is going to be like it always is. Arden trying to control me through the threats and me trying to manipulate my way to safety.
Well let him try. I’m not the broken little boy I was back then. I am a confident adult. I am a husband, a healer, a poet and a soldier. And he doesn’t scare me anymore.
Except, the laser pointed at my head does scare me.
“Arden. I’m sorry. I was just feeling worried. And I thought other people would help me feel more strong.” I play the part of the damsel in distress as I have done so many other times.
“I can help you feel confident. I can be all you need. Just listen to me. Hear me out.”
“Alright. I’ll hear your side of the story.”
“I am so sorry that I sent you to prison all those years ago. I thought you were being unfaithful. But I didn’t even bother to know what truly happened. You were injured. You were on the ground. He could’ve come up to you and kissed you. Without you telling him to. I didn’t bother to find out. I just sent you away.”
Is that what he thinks happened? What a self-centred, egotistic idiot. Thinking that even when he has blatant proof otherwise, he is the centre of my universe.
But still. I have to play into it. I have to play him.
“I always felt very betrayed by that,” I tell him. “I couldn’t stand that you just threw me away. I loved you. I thought you wanted me.”
“I did want you. I do want you. I just made a stupid mistake. Will you forgive me?”
I fake cry at hearing that. I force emotion into my voice as tears roll down my cheeks.
“Of course I forgive you. Why wouldn’t I? I’ve wanted to see you for all these years. I’ve wanted to forgive you for all these years.”
“Well we’re together now. That’s what matters.”
“And we’ll find a way to get out of this together too.” I keep the emotion in my voice. Keep the fake devotion in it. He’s still holding the gun. Still aiming it at me. He still holds the power right now. But I have more power than he knows.
“I’m so sorry that you ended up having to go to battles for the resistance. You’re a fragile sort of boy. You don’t have what it takes to be a soldier. I’m so sorry that the resistance forced you to be a soldier.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity of his words. I love my life in the resistance. I love my role in Veritas. I love fighting. But I have to play his game.
“Yes. The resistance kidnapped me. I was so scared as a child. They forced me to join them, and threatened me with death if I didn’t. They had all the power. So I couldn’t say no. I had to join them. And I’ve had to fight for them ever since.”
Arden doesn’t realize that he has all the power right now. He doesn’t realize that he’s threatening me with death. He doesn’t realize that he’s held power over me and threatened me during all of our interactions together.
But of course he doesn’t realize. He always sees himself as the hero. The results of being a coddled only child, an owner, and a gaming addict.
“You must have felt so abandoned. Don’t worry. I’m here now.” It’s strange that he seems to care so much about my emotions. He never did before. Of course he thinks that my emotions all boil down to sadness that he left me and happiness that he’s here. So it’s not actually that strange. He still thinks all my emotions revolve around him.
“Why did you betray your side?” I ask him. I have my ideas as to why he did it but I just want to be sure. And I want to buy myself time to think. He still has the gun pointed at me. I’ll have to do something about that.
“Because I saw you. And I realized that this was my chance. This was my chance to rescue you and make it up to you for throwing you away.”
“You did it to rescue me?” I fake joy in my voice. “Thank you so much. You’re amazing. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.” I wonder if that’s overkill. I hope not. But I don’t think so.
“Yes, I’m here to rescue you. I’ll rescue you now.”
He is so full of himself. But I let him keep talking and I pretend to be listening intently.
“You did it for me?” I force fake joy and fake gratitude all over my voice. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Master Arden. How will I ever repay you? I don’t think I can ever repay you for rescuing me.” I wonder if that was too much. I hope not. But I don’t think it was too much. Arden looks pleased with me. Though he still has the gun pointing at me.
“We’re together now. That’s what matters the most.” There is smugness in his voice.
“Will I go back to being your’s once we get out of here?” I ask him with fake earnestness.
“Yes. You will. You will be mine and everything will be as it should be.”
“Oh thank you so much!” I exclaim. “Thank you for forgiving me for crashing your flyer. You truly are forgiving and amazing.”
“Yes. Now all we have to do is get out.”
“How will we do that?” I know ways to get him out but obviously I’m not interested at all in getting him out. I would rather die than be his again. I would rather die.
“You tell everyone that you’re taking me on a tour of the place. And then we will slip out the door when no-one is looking.” It’s not the greatest plan but it could work. But I have to make sure that it doesn’t work.
“That’s a great plan. But for the plan you need to make sure to put the gun down. They won’t trust you if they see that you have a gun.”
“Yes of course. That’s obvious.” He hides the gun inside his clothes. That’s not as good as actually getting rid of it. But still. It’s not in his hands anymore. That I can work with.
“Do you promise that you’ll come with me?” Arden asks.
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
So we go together out of the room. We walk down the stairs and out the door. The circle dance is still going on.
“I’m just taking Arden here on a tour of the place,” I loudly announce. Everyone turns to look at us. But we keep walking.
“Why did you have to tell them all?” Arden whispers to me, coming up close.
“Because I don’t want to look suspicious.” I whisper back.
“Stupid,” he whispers.
This is my chance. He is so close to me. Everyone is looking at us.
I scream as I ram into him. He shouts in confusion as he’s tackled into the ground. He reaches for his gun but I grab both of his wrists so that he can’t get it. I am on top of him now.
“He has a gun!” I yell. Arden uses this opportunity to kick his feet out and get me off of him. But I run back to him and ram into him again before he can get up. I am lying on top of him as he struggles to get his gun.
Finally the others come to help me. Two people train their guns right against Arden’s head. They kneel down over us. Arden has no choice now. He has to let me go.
“Arden. Let go of my husband.” Ari’s serious, confident voice rings out between all of us. Arden looks at him. And he does let go.
“What should we do with him?” Rachel asks me.
“Shoot him,” I answer. “But not yet. Let me have a few words with him first.”
Arden looks up at me with wide, scared, betrayed eyes. I stand over him. And from this angle he looks so small lying sprawled on the ground. For once in our lives I am the one who holds the power.
“I always hated you, Arden,” I state. “You were and still are so selfish and self-centred and ignorant and prejudiced. You always loved holding power over me. But you won’t hold power over me any longer. I am and always was so much more than you ever thought I could be capable of. And my people will win.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“You guys can shoot now,” I tell my people.
And they do. And the blood flows. And my childhood tormentor is no more.
Many people walk up to me and hug me. Including Ari, my husband who I will never be parted from. I hold on to all of them. And in the midst of all my people, I cry. I cry all the tears that I have ever had to force down and hide. And they let me cry. And they heal me as I’ve healed them all before. And they make me feel free.
———
If you like this piece check out my Twitter my handle is @FSairuv and I post about human rights, social justice, and the environment.
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