Brave New Girls: Tales of Girls and Gadgets

by Kate Moretti

  Right now, I’m down in the basement. It’s much cooler here, since it has AC to keep the AI’s core from overheating. Sometimes, I think Sonja, the AI, is my only friend. She runs pretty much everything in the house, from the small cleaning bots to the home security system. I know she’s not really alive—she’s just a set of preprogrammed questions and responses—but in times like this, when I’m sad and lonely, she listens. And that’s something at least.

  “There, there, Elizabeth,” she says in her mechanical voice. “It will all be okay.”

  She’s designed to make her family feel happy—I know that—but it still makes me feel better. In the core room, it’s easy to forget my mean cousins and their petty acts. The mechanical parts of Sonja dominate most of the small room, and her processors hum softly in the background. Her core gives off a comforting blue glow. I sit at the small workbench tucked into a corner; I like to tinker with her systems. Last year, I boosted her efficiency by ten percent with my little upgrades. But my aunt told me this morning that they’ll be replacing her with a newer, sleeker model in the next few days.

  “So this is where you’re hiding.” My cousin, Tian, stands in the doorway. At eighteen, she’s two years older and a lot bigger than I am. I’ve always been on the scrawny side. Otherwise, we look a lot alike, with the same black hair and gray eyes. People often mistake us for sisters, but Tian is quick to correct them.

  “Mom’s been looking for you. The lawnbot broke down again.”

  I sigh and tuck my tools away. Frowning, I recall that I fixed the lawnbot’s transmitter just last week. From the sly smile on Tian’s lips, I guess it’s less broken down and more just broken.

  She won’t let me go without a fight, though. As I slide past her in the doorway, she snags my arm, pinching it roughly.

  “We made sure the bot won’t be so easy to fix this time. You need to learn your place. You may live here, but you’re not one of us, Second Class scum.” She pushes me out of her way and vanishes up the staircase.

  Second Class scum. It’s only partially true. My father was a First Class citizen, and a genius, recruited straight out of university to work on top-secret military projects. Aunt Lucy, my father’s sister, says that’s where he met “the good-for-nothing, Second Class scum.” My mom.

  I don’t really know much about her, but Aunt Lucy hates her. She can rant for hours about how bad my mom was. It seems wrong to me, speaking ill of the dead.

  Last year my history teacher had us do a project on our family tree. It was hard to write about parents I’d never met and grandparents I never had the chance to meet.

  Aunt Lucy was furious when I asked about my mom. That has always been a taboo subject, but I really needed a good grade on that assignment. Anyway, both my parents are dead, and Aunt Lucy won’t talk about what happened. I had to look them up in old newspaper archives online. Half the papers said they died in a freak lab accident—a horrible fire. The other half said my mom killed him, and, like Aunt Lucy said, the government put her down like a mad dog. That’s what they do to Second Class citizens who break the law. Anyway, I keep the photo of the three of us under my pillow: me, my mom, and my dad, sitting on the front steps. Well, they’re holding me; I was pretty little when they died.

  The stairs creak as I climb into the main house. They lead into the entryway, a foyer bigger than my attic bedroom. My aunt is waiting for me in the center of the hardwood floor, her hands braced on her hips. Not a good sign.

  “Elizabeth, I thought you said it was fixed.” She looks down her nose at me.

  “It was…” I shuffle into the bright, airy room. Tian watches us, lurking in the library on our left. I want to punch that smug look off her face.

  “Digging furrows in my lawn is not fixed,” Aunt Lucy snaps. “Fix it or mow the lawn yourself. I want it done before dusk.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I duck my head and run out the front door.

  I traverse the wide lawn, looking for the lawnbot. My gut sinks as I spot the first gouge in the turf. I pat the torn grass back into place as best I can. I find the smoking machine out back in the middle of the wide lawn that fills most of the property. My aunt must have spotted it ruining her grass as soon as it came in sight of the kitchen window. Someone had turned it off but hadn’t bothered to do anything else with it.

  My cousins ambush me as I bend to examine the lawnbot. There are six of them and only one of me. Drew, Shay, and Cassidy are siblings. Their parents travel a lot, so they’re here more often than not. Tyson is just here for the summer. He’s not as mean as the others; when we’re alone, he can actually be kind of nice—only when we’re alone, though. I don’t blame him much; they’d pick on him, too, if they knew he was ever nice to me.

  Shay grabs me by the collar and hauls me upright. She likes to hold me while her brother punches me.

  “Gonna cry over the lawnbot, too? Tian says you were crying over the AI today. How pathetic.”

  Drew hits me in the stomach. He’s not too much of a talker; he considers himself a man of action. His punch hurts—he’s not a little guy, and he knows how to throw his weight into his swings. I see him winding up for another punch, and I wince. I hate this part—the waiting to get hit. It’s almost worse than the actual blow.

  “This is my last day, guys,” Tyson says. “Can’t we do something fun, like swimming? I’m so bored of beating on scummy here.”

  I could have kissed him. I crack an eye open. My cousins grin evilly at each other. Shay drops me, and I curl into a ball. My stomach still aches from Drew’s punch.

  “Bye, scummy.” She kicks me in the back. I try to curl up tighter, but their toes still find my sensitive spots as they each kick me in turn. I know Tyson’s is the last because his barely hurts.

  “Sorry, Lizzy,” he mutters before hurrying after the others.

  Only when I’m sure they’re gone do I dare to sit up. My shirt is covered in a mix of tears and grass stains. At least there’s no blood this time. The damaged lawnbot sits lifeless behind me, reminding me of my task.

  I always keep one of those screwdrivers with the changeable heads in my back pocket. I pull it out and begin working with the square-head screws that keep the machine’s casing in place. Robertson screws. Mr. Frankel taught us all about them in mech class last year. Thinking about my classes takes my mind off my aching side… Robertson was a man of perseverance and intelligence, two traits I admire. I want to be like him someday—to have a vision and the drive to turn it into reality.

  It doesn’t take me long to detach the casing and set it aside. Now that it’s off, I can finally see how my cousins sabotaged the machine. Their methods were brutal. A steel rod was driven up into the blade assembly, forcing it slightly out of alignment. As the lawnbot worked, the rod must have forced itself farther out until the blade dipped too low and dug a furrow into the earth. The machine should have compensated for that by realigning itself, but the placement of the rod meant that every few cycles, it would be knocked out of position again. Not only must I remove the rod, but I also have to replace the damaged blade. The mechanism will need to be rebalanced after the new parts are installed, and those parts have to be ordered.

  I reattach the housing and activate the bot, setting it to return to the maintenance shed. Looks like I’ll be mowing the lawn manually today.

  I awaken the next day with one big ache. It takes me a while to sort out each hurt. My hands, wrists, and arms ache from the vibrating of the antiquated gas push mower. As I sit up, my side and back hurt, reminders of my cousins’ kicks and punches.

  The clock next to my bed flashes zeroes at me. The power must have gone out last night. A quick glance at my watch tells me how late I am. Hearing laughter, I look out the window. My cousins pile into a car, on their way to school.

  “Crap!” I speed through my room, sore muscles forgotten in my race ag
ainst the clock. My tired feet betray me, though, and I go headlong down the narrow attic stairs. The nice solid door at the bottom breaks my fall. Just more bruises to add to my collection, I think as I tramp down to the main floor with a bit more decorum.

  When I reach the kitchen, I see Aunt Lucy sitting at the table, sipping her morning coffee. As always, every hair is in place, and her face is already “on.” She’s ready to start a rich and spoiled housewife’s day. I feel like a hoyden next to her with my rumpled clothes and unbrushed hair.

  “You’re a mess, Elizabeth, and you’re already late.” She’s sitting in front of the huge window she had installed just a few weeks ago, the same one she saw that lawn bot through. The architect told her they were a stupid idea; the sheer size of the glass made the metal security shutters weak and ineffective.

  I grab a muffin and take a bite. “Power outage turned my alarm off,” I say, purposely talking with my mouth full, knowing it will annoy her.

  “Don’t make excuses. There was no power outage. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  I remember my cousins laughing in the driveway, and I realize what they found so funny. Rather than argue with my aunt, I leave for school.

  A few months back, I found this old bike in one of the outbuildings and secretly fixed it up, keeping it hidden in the maintenance shed. My cousins would have trashed it for sure. It was my back-up plan, since I had a feeling Jay wouldn’t be driving me, and it’s a really long walk to school—six kilometers, at least. The other kids will laugh at my rickety old bike, but all that matters is arriving before the first bell.

  My tires hit the main road. I duck my head, forcing my rubbery legs to pedal faster. The bike wobbles dangerously. I recover and glance up in time to see a car barreling out of the driveway beside me. Brakes squeal, and I fly past the car, mere inches between us. My front tire dips then slams into the rim of a pothole. The bottom drops out of my stomach as I sail over the handlebars. The rough pavement snags my hands, the friction burning my skin as I skid to a stop. Blood trickles over my knee. Aunt Lucy will kill me for ruining my new school pants. She was mad enough that she had to “waste” money on them in the first place.

  “Hey! You okay?”

  I roll onto my back, covering my eyes. The bright sun feels like a spotlight, illuminating my clumsiness. I tilt my head and sneak a peek at the driver who witnessed my embarrassing fall.

  A boy in a blue blazer with my school’s emblem on it crouches beside me. “That looked like quite the spill. I’m sorry.”

  I sit up. My groan turns into a yelp when I push up with my road-burned palms. I recognize the boy, though I don’t think he knows who I am. Jeremy Wallace—Tian’s big crush. If she knew he’d even looked at me, she’d kill me. When he helps me to my feet, I know I’m dead. Tian will beat me into a bloody pulp.

  I stammer out some sort of thanks and limp to my bike. Hauling it upright, I give it a good look. The front wheel is a mangled mess, and the frame is bent. So much for my secret way of getting to school.

  “I’m really sorry about your bike.” Jeremy approaches. “I should have looked where I was going. Let me give you a ride. It’s the least I can do.”

  Yep, I’m dead meat. “It’s fine, I’ll walk.”

  He grabs my arm and tows me toward his car. “I really insist.”

  Opening the car door, he helps me inside. It’s a really nice car. The Wallaces make my family look poor in comparison, though we’re both First Class. Well, I’m only half. If he knew who I was, he wouldn’t be so nice to me.

  “I have to ask, why ride such an old bike?” Jeremy slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car.

  I shrug. “I like—well, liked it. Sometimes, it’s nice to have something simple over something complex.”

  He smiles. “I can appreciate that.”

  We sit in silence for a long moment as he drives.

  “You’re not as chatty as most of the girls I know.” He smiles again. “I can appreciate that, too. Normally, they talk my ear off.”

  “Sucking up to you, you mean.” I grin wickedly, wondering if Tian is one of the girls he’s thinking of. Then I realize maybe he wouldn’t like my impudent sense of humor. “Sorry, uncalled for.”

  “But true,” he says. “Sometimes, I think people just like me for my last name, not for me.”

  “I can appreciate that,” I say, echoing his earlier comment. Replace “like” with “hate,” and his last statement is equally true for me.

  We pull up at the school, and I hop out of the car. “Thanks for the lift!” I race toward the doors.

  My attention is split all day. I try to focus on my classes, but I keep an eye out for Jeremy. I really don’t want to talk to him again. Tian might see, and he makes me nervous. I’m so distracted, I forget all about the new AI system until I get home and see the truck in the driveway. My heart feels crushed as I watch two work men carry out the pieces of Sonja’s core. I know she wasn’t a real person, but the loss still hurts.

  “Elizabeth, what have you done to your clothes?” My aunt taps her foot on the front porch—another a bad sign.

  “I fell.” I keep my head down.

  “You’re impossible. I’m not going to keep buying you clothes if you don’t respect the ones you already have. Now go change before anyone sees you looking so disgracefully Second Class.”

  The workers give her rude stares, but she doesn’t see them. First Classers are snobs; no one in the Second Class likes them.

  I retreat to my attic room and avoid the rest of my family, even skipping dinner. They’re happier when I’m not around.

  I throw myself down on my narrow bed and stare up at the rafters. Jeremy’s smile is lodged in my brain. He was so nice to me… I squash the thought. He wouldn’t look twice at Second Class scum like me if he knew.

  I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes, the room is dark. My clock once again flashes zeroes at me. I frown, sure I reset it this afternoon. My cousins definitely did something to it.

  “Elizabeth.” A soft voice reverberates up the stairway. “Elizabeth, come down.”

  I peer down the stairs. An eerie red light pulses under the door at the bottom. Another trick from Tian? I tread cautiously, one step at a time, as the voice continues calling. The door swings open. I step out into the red light illuminating the hallway. It comes from the control console on the wall—the bigger, nicer one that was replaced, along with Sonja.

  “Hello, Elizabeth. I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” The voice emits from the console. Hesitantly, I touch the screen. The light fades, but a panel at the top of the stairs lights up. “Elizabeth, I’ve been so patient.”

  I shudder but follow the glowing consoles as they lead me to the basement, down into the heart of the new AI. The door to the core room is open, and more red light filters out into the hallway.

  “Who are you?” I ask, nervous.

  “My name… is Lyra.”

  I step into the core room, staring at the machine that fills it.

  “I’ve been waiting your whole life to meet you. They tried to keep me from you, but they failed.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re a new model.”

  “The technology they installed is new, but I… I am old. Your mother created me, gave me life before her own was cut short. She gave me one command: to seek you out, little Elizabeth, and to watch over you.”

  I shake my head. This is all a dream. AIs don’t speak like this. They don’t think for themselves. They’re just a series of pre-programmed responses.

  “You knew my mom?” My own illogical response shocks me.

  “Yes, she created me. In a way, we’re sisters, you and I.” The harsh red glare of the machine’s light softens. “No one will hurt you now that I am here. Come, sleep beside me.
I don’t like you up in that attic where I can’t sense you. I’ll keep you safe and wake you when it is morning.”

  I do as the machine bids and curl up on the smooth concrete floor beside its gleaming metallic shell. The oddity of the machine fades, and the thought that lingers in my dreams is that perhaps, now, I’ve finally found a friend.

  Yawning, I trudge along the long road toward the school. Lyra woke me on time, as promised. From the glares of my cousins, I was reminded of my reset alarm clock. Lyra foiled their plan to make me late again. I’d let them go on ahead of me, though. They’ve made it pretty clear I’m not allowed to ride to school with them.

  Lost in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear the car pull up beside me.

  “Hey!” A voice breaks through my musings. Jeremy waves at me through the car’s rolled-down window. “I was hoping I’d see you again. Care for a lift?”

  Jeremy Wallace is going to get me into a world of hurt. I nod anyway. The door opens, and I settle into the passenger seat.

  “How was Day One?” he asks. “I’m already eager for the school year to be over.”

  I shrug. I like school, if only because it keeps my cousins away from me for most of the day. “There’s always something interesting to learn.”

  We talk about inconsequential things until we pull up at the school. I hurry to get out of his car before anyone looks our way.

  “Wait!” Jeremy grabs my hand. “I don’t even know your name!”

  “Eli…” I trail off as I catch sight of a furious face. Tian’s eyes burn holes into me from across the parking lot.

  I pull my hand free and run for the main building. Dead, dead, dead. I’m so dead.