Rebellion

by K A Riley

  Something occurs to me, and I share the memory with Brohn. “Render sent me a thought the other day,” I say. “Something about being ‘suspended in helplessness.’”

  Brohn looks around at our floating bubble of a prison. “I’d say this counts.”

  “He also said something about ‘rediscovering death.’”

  “Hm. Not the most cheerful prophecy. Any guesses about what it means?”

  “No. And I’m not exactly looking forward to figuring it out.”

  “What about Krug?”

  “Ekker says Krug doesn’t matter. He’s turning on him. Says he’s taking us away before Krug even gets here.”

  “Great. So instead of being Krug’s slaves, we’re going to be this guy Ekker’s?”

  “That sounds like his plan.”

  “Then we need to get out of here.”

  “I’m all for escaping,” I say. “But in case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little on the powerless side at the moment. Ekker took our comm-links and everything.” I know this is supposed to be a tense situation, and I’m supposed to be scared and desperate to be free from this floating prison cell, but the fact that Brohn is suddenly and inexplicably back from the dead has given me a weird case of the giggles.

  Chuckling himself, Brohn tells me not to worry. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Then, turning serious, he tries rotating his body around. When that doesn’t work, he thrashes side to side, but, like me, his ability to move from the center of the orb is limited to nearly nothing. It’s like there’s an invisible hand clamping onto our bodies and making it impossible to do much more than turn our heads and move our arms and legs in place. Clearly frustrated but also exhausted and still reeling from having been shot, Brohn settles down and reaches across to me. I reach back, and our fingertips nearly touch.

  “So close,” Brohn says, dropping his hand to his side in temporary resignation. “Wait. Ekker was here?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Oh. Totally great guy,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “Excellent host. One heckuva human being.”

  Brohn laughs and rubs his chest again. “Wonderful. Can’t wait to thank him for all these lovely new craters he put into me.”

  “If you don’t mind a personal question…?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  “How come you’re not dead?”

  Brohn rubs his chest again and winces. “Ekker must’ve shot me with impact slugs.”

  “He says it was armor-piercers. And impact slugs wouldn’t explain the blood.”

  “And the mystery deepens.”

  “Seriously, Brohn. What’s happening to us?”

  “Not sure. But whatever it is, it’s enhancing your connection with Render, and it’s keeping me alive after getting shot point-blank in an alley, so I’m not about to start complaining.”

  “I’m not complaining, either,” I sigh. “But it’d be nice to know what’s going on.”

  “They say ignorance is bliss.”

  “Well, they’re wrong. Ignorance is infuriating.”

  “Maybe your pal Ekker will have some answers.”

  As if on cue, the doors whoosh open, and Ekker comes strolling back in and immediately starts his slow walk again around our sphere-cell. Brohn, a menacing scowl wrinkled into the space between his eyes, glares hot lasers at him.

  “Nice to see you up and about, Brohn. Well, up anyway. As you can see, you can’t really go anywhere.”

  “Is this the part where you tell us your evil plan?” Brohn asks. “If so, we’re not interested.”

  “Kress and I have already had a very pleasant conversation about my plan. And there’s nothing evil about it. This is about necessity. You’re Emergents. If we hadn’t discovered you, someone else out there, some other government would have. And then it’d be them trying to tap into your talents for some selfish plot to control the world.”

  “And what about you?” I ask. “I suppose your motives are purely altruistic? Kidnapping a bunch of kids for the good of humanity and all.”

  Ekker belts out a long, very loud laugh. “You grew up in a tiny world of terror, Kress. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. Me? I grew up in a much larger and much more terrifying world. A world of wars and walls. A world where ignorance was valued over intellect, where everyone was a potential enemy, and where guns outnumbered people ten-to-one. Not exactly a recipe for harmonious and peaceful co-existence. Trust me. I’m on the right side of history. Well, I’m about to be anyway.”

  “And you think you can weaponize us to bring peace?” I ask.

  “People are still violent,” Brohn points out. “We’ve seen the results of the world you’re talking about. People are still killing each other.”

  “True.”

  “And it’s Krug’s fault.”

  “Also true. But this time, at least it’s the right people killing each other. With the Arcologies, the good people of the world can finally be separated from the animals.”

  “You’re still an animal,” Brohn says. “An animal with guns and a lot of self-delusion. But you’re still just a mindless predator pure and simple.”

  “Don’t knock predators,” Ekker says defensively, his eyes narrowing into an annoyed squint. “We were born to be predators. All of us. We’re just really bad at it.” Hands clasped behind his back, he returns to pacing around the perimeter of the orb. “We have these close-set eyes on the front of our faces like all predators. But our vision is limited. Can’t even see at night. Our sense of smell is worthless. The sharp fangs we used to possess have devolved into these flat, grinding stubs.” He holds his hand up and rotates it slowly in front of his face. “Weak fingernails. A poor substitute for the powerful claws we once boasted. Even our minds—the most powerful in the entire animal kingdom—just keep getting in the way of our ability and our right to rule the world. Until you.”

  Brohn and I exchange a look across the space between us.

  “Didn’t you ever wonder who was the first humanoid to walk upright? In our evolutionary lineage, who was the first to use language to communicate? Who was the very first to use a weapon, tell a lie, fabricate an enemy? I don’t mean in general, and it’s not a rhetorical question. There had to be someone, right? A single, conscious individual who broke through the genetic restraints of the time to emerge as something new. Something better. As Emergents yourselves, you are today’s version of that pioneer. The first of your kind. The end of what came before and the beginning of a long future yet to come. Surely that must excite you?”

  “Actually,” I say, “what would really excite me is to twist your stupid head off. Plus, a bathroom would be nice. I really have to pee.”

  Ekker stops in his tracks and presses his hand against the clear surface of our floating prison. “Kress, you have grown every bit as amazing as I’ve heard.”

  “I would have been happy with just average. I guess I overshot. Now, about that bathroom break…”

  “And you, Brohn. Brimming with confidence. A natural leader. And still, more special than you ever realized.”

  Suddenly curious, Brohn looks over at Ekker. “You said ‘evolutionary.’ Is that why I seem to be…bullet-proof?”

  “You’re hardly bullet-proof. More like bullet-resistant. To be honest, it’s why I shot you.” Ekker makes punching motions in the air with his fists. “Sure, I could have just taken you down the old-fashioned way. After all, it’s only your outer shell that’s evolved. Underneath, you’re all organs and vulnerability like the rest of us. Think about a piece of sheet metal covering a sack of eggs. Hit the metal, you hurt your hand. Hit it hard enough, you can break the eggs underneath. Honestly, I just needed to know for sure what you were capable of. Don’t look so surprised. Is it really that hard to believe? I’m just an average, flesh-and-blood human being. And yet, my skin is strong enough to resist all kinds of impact. Sticks. Rocks. Hailstones. A variety of fist-strikes and kicks. A tumble down the stairs. T
here are plenty of forces in the world my skin is strong enough to withstand. Of course, taking a batch of bullets to the chest like I gave you would kill me. But you? You’re something else entirely. You’re beyond me. Beyond anyone who’s come before. Don’t worry. You’re no superhero, and no one is counting on you to save the world. You’re just the next step in an evolutionary trajectory. All of you. Just a bunch of kids from a small mountain town no one’s ever heard of. The amazing thing is that you lived together all this time and never knew what you were or what you had the potential to become.”

  “Apparently, we’ve become freaks that an even bigger freak is trying to take advantage of,” I tell him. “We’re just a means to your twisted end.”

  “Don’t be so limited in your thinking, Kress. It’s beneath you. As the first true Emergents, you’re more than just yourselves, more than just your abilities. You represent an evolution in us as individual human beings but also as a kind of…collective consciousness. We’ve been conditioned, by our genes and by our own culture, to think of ourselves as these little specks of solitary matter, just muddling along all alone in the world, occasionally bumping into other specks but never really connecting. The fact is, we come from the same originary source and are connected in ways we not only don’t realize but have somehow learned to resist with all our might. Yes. Your abilities are your own. But they are also each other’s. Haven’t you noticed that your powers grow and develop the more you stick together? It’s why we kept you isolated all those years. Isolated from the world but united with each other. The closer you get, the stronger you are. Something in your genes, in your DNA, in your neurology…something has rewired you. The results? Harmony. Synchronization. The ability to connect—with animals, with digital technologies, with your own skin, muscles, and bones. And with each other. That’s what I’m after. The ability to connect, to tap into what’s been closed off to us for all these eons.”

  As he talks, Ekker runs his fingers through his hair. He fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt and with the buckle on his belt, and it occurs to me that, strange as it may sound, he may be as nervous as we are. He’s scared of something. I can sense it as sure as if I heard him say the words out loud. Is he afraid of Krug? Of betraying him? Or could it be something else? He seems to notice me noticing him, and he pauses outside the orb between me and Brohn.

  “Seriously,” Ekker says, tapping his finger on the glass. “Don’t worry. And don’t get too comfortable. We’re going to gather up the rest of your crew. We’re going to find them and ferret them out. And then we’ll be out of this city and on the road before you know it. Oh, and if you’re thinking of escaping, don’t bother. You’re in a maximum security grav-cell in a room of solid synth-steel with a dozen eyes on you at all times. We’re too close to the end, and you are far too important for me to get sloppy now.”

  “We’re flattered,” Brohn says.

  “Excellent. I know it’s hard to believe, but this really is the greatest compliment you could ever be paid. You’re the future of humanity.”

  Ekker circles back around behind Brohn and steps out of the room. Just before the door whooshes shut behind him, I catch a glimpse of the woman in the hooded red jacket joining him. Her face is obscured in shadow, but there’s something familiar about her. I don’t have time to contemplate it in any great detail, though. If what Ekker says is true—that we don’t have any hope of escape—then the only option we have is to prove him wrong.

  “Time to get out of this thing,” Brohn says.

  “What do you suggest?” I ask as I look around again at this no-win situation we’ve found ourselves suspended in. I don’t know this technology. Mag-systems have been in place for years now. But there are still a lot of gas-powered vehicles, wooden doors, and iron bars in the world. Because we’ve been isolated for so long, the world outside the Valta is still new with a surprise around every corner. But this one is beyond me.

  Like me, Brohn is also looking around. “Where’s Manthy when we need her?” He suddenly whips around to face me. “What about Render? Could you connect with him? Somehow get a message to Wisp and the others?”

  “Sure,” I nod. “I can try.”

  I swipe my tattoos, but nothing happens. I try again. Still nothing.

  Before he disappeared, my dad taught me dozens of combinations he promised would enable me to continue to develop my techno-neuro connection with Render.

  Now, I try every pattern and permutation I can recall. I swipe the longest curved swoop that runs from my left elbow around to my thumb followed by a succession of quick taps to the three black dots on my wrist. Nothing. I run the tip of my index and middle fingers along the crisp black chevrons on my inner right forearm and trace a series of circles around the cluster of spots speckled on the back of my right hand. Nothing. Desperate, I tap out the reset pattern Dad showed me: six quick taps on the larger circle on my left arm followed by six quick taps to the smallest circle on my right. Still nothing. Not only that, I don’t get even a glimmer of a connection. It’s not even like my implants have been fried. More like they never even existed.

  “I can’t connect.” I try to say it in a matter-of-fact way, kind of like someone might say, “Honey, the toaster’s not working.” But the rush of emotion involved overwhelms me, and I choke on the words. It’s not simply the physical sensation that’s gone. The thought that all the emotions, joys, challenges, and experiences I’ve had with Render have vanished sends my mind to a dark, lonely place.

  “It’s this cell,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands to staunch the distracting trickle of tears. “I can’t feel Render. I can’t connect with him.”

  “It’s okay, Kress. We’ll be okay.” Brohn is trying to sound calming, but it’s not working. I can hear the tremor in his voice. He’s as scared, frustrated, and as worried as I am.

  I shake my head hard and look across at him, my vision blurry from the effort and from the feeling of disconnectedness and failure. “I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. Like if you lost Wisp. Or if I lost you.”

  Despite the pain in my heart and the sting of tears in my eyes, Brohn gives me a look that says more than a whole page full of words. It’s a look that really sees me. That feels me and that supports and understands me to my core. It’s a look that sympathizes with me without feeling sorry for me and that surrounds me without smothering me. I don’t feel complete, exactly. But I do feel better. His look is a lifeline offering one thin strand of hope.

  “Back in the Style…you said something about being able to connect without your implants.”

  “That’s true,” I tell him. “The last couple of times, Render and I linked up before I had finished scanning the code onto my arm. It happened again when we were trying to spy on Ekker. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but it seems to be the case.”

  “Then maybe you can connect without even inputting the code at all.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not possible. I don’t care what anyone’s said in the past. Without Dad’s tech, there’s no connection.” I turn my hands palms-out and show Brohn my arms. “These are all I’ve got. Ekker’s blocking them somehow. Without them, I’m just a girl, and Render’s just a bird.”

  Brohn’s voice drops an octave. “Kress. I’ve known you since we were six years old. You’re not ‘just’ an anything. You’re the best and most important person I’ve ever met.”

  “I know,” I moan with a sigh and an eye-roll. “I’m the Kakari Isutse. Some kind of super savior…”

  Brohn shakes his head. “I’m not talking about your importance to the rebellion. I mean us. You and me. I somehow get shot full-force in the chest, and I’m still here, alive and mostly well, talking with you. I’m going to go out on a limb here and point out that you and I are redefining what’s possible pretty much on a daily basis.”

  “And you think it’s possible for me to—”

  “Connect with Render without any of your dad’s tech? Yes. I really do. In fact, I
think that might be only the beginning of what’s possible for you to do.”

  “I don’t know, Brohn.”

  “If you don’t believe me, believe Ekker.”

  “Ekker?”

  “Kress, he didn’t bring you here and keep you alive on a whim. He believes in you.” Brohn gives me a playful smile. “Okay, not in the same way I do. But two powerful and dangerous men—Krug and Ekker—are out there right now plotting their supremacy over the future of our entire species, and they’re both looking at you like you’re the key to it all.”

  “Us,” I remind Brohn. “It’s not just me. Ekker kept you alive, too.”

  “See?” Brohn jokes. “We have so much in common. Too much to waste on getting killed in this stupid cell. So what do you say? How about if you see what you can do to get us out of here? After all, we have a rebellion to start and a fight to finish.”

  16

  I give Brohn a feeble thumbs up. Suspended in the air just across from me, he returns the gesture and tries to turn around to see the door behind him. “I have a feeling Ekker won’t be leaving us alone in here for long. We should hurry.”

  “Stop,” I say with a broad smile. “You’ll make me nervous, and I’m likely to miss Render and accidentally connect with a baby parakeet or something.”

  “Okay,” Brohn laughs. “Relax. Take your time. Take all the time in the world. Just please go super-fast while you’re doing it!”

  I tell Brohn, “I’m on it,” and close my eyes. It takes a minute, but I hear, no…I feel a voice in my head. It doesn’t talk to me or engage in back-and-forth conversation. Instead, it intertwines with my own. It’s a voice that’s part me, part someone else. It’s not Render’s voice, though.

  Focus on the space between… exist more completely in both worlds at once.

  It’s Wisp. It’s something she said to me back in the Intel Room. But this isn’t a memory. It’s her voice again. It’s in my head and kind of all around me at once, and it’s as clear and as close as if she’s whispering it in my ear. Am I doing this? Am I hearing the past? Have I connected with Wisp? Or has she somehow connected with me?