by Ramona Finn
She returns it curtly, then motions me forward. I step into a circle of light on the other side of the fire, across from her. As I take a seat, I notice that Skye has lingered in the doorway. Like this isn’t for her. I want to motion her forward—I don’t want to do this alone—but as if she can sense my request, she just shakes her head.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look back at Bird. “What do I have to do?”
I can see a ghost of a smile on her full lips. “I will do what I can tonight, but nothing worth doing comes easy. You will have to persist after this night. Can you do that?”
I nod my head without thinking.
“Can you follow the path that will be laid before you?”
I nod again. I can feel tension winding up between my shoulder blades. It makes me stiff and ready to bolt, but I force myself to remain seated. Whatever power this is, I can handle it.
“When I offer you the key to this path, will you take it?”
I nod stiffly.
“When it demands hardship of you, and sacrifice, are you ready for that, too?”
Again, I agree silently. The tension has built until I feel it in the very tips of my toes. I sense that her words hold power and meaning, and inside I’m scared of that. I should ask what these questions really mean, but I don’t. I can’t voice my concerns because that will break the spell.
“Be warned: it won’t be easy,” she tells me finally, and then she reaches behind her. She pulls out a small ceramic bowl that looks as though it has a metallic edge to it. I don’t know if that’s true or if it’s just a coppery paint that makes it shimmer and shine like metal. Inside, there’s a dark liquid that looks like juice, or maybe something stronger. There’s only a little, and it sloshes around as Bird sets it down in front of her. Next she brings out a pack of bundled leaves, dried and soft looking. She sets it beside the bowl. Finally, she brings out a small leather drawstring bag. Drawn on it is an eye that has been smeared.
I want to ask what all of this is, but I stay silent. I wait.
“My clan before this clan was the See Far Clan,” she tells me, though I know this already. She picks up the drawstring bag and dips her fingers inside. They come out powdery and tinged in a baby blue. “The clans have learned to survive in the barren wilderness that is the Outside. They have adapted and become more than they were. My clan, my family, learned to see. Not just to the horizons, but past them. They learned to listen to the wind and see the visions it brought. I am the last of my clan, but I carry with me their secrets and their sight. I call for it today to bestow upon you a gift—and a responsibility. You, Lib of the Tracker Clan, of the Glitches, will you accept this gift?”
I hesitate. The gravity of the situation hits me as I realize in this moment what she’s giving me. Visions. The same kind of visions she sees. And what will this mean for mine?
I take a deep breath and hold it for three seconds. When I release it, it leaves in a whoosh. My answer comes with it. “Yes.”
Bird’s fingers dip into the liquid, turning the blue on her fingers to a dark reddish paste that almost looks like blood. Almost. “This will bring the sight, but you have to embrace it.”
“Embrace it?” I ask before I can remember that I’m supposed to be quiet—or at least that I feel like I am.
I almost expect to be scolded for speaking, but instead she answers me. “There are two paths in life. One is that of anger and pride. It walls us off from who we are by taking away our connection. The other is that of connection and warmth. It can always lead us home, if only we accept it.”
None of this makes sense, I think, but out loud I say, “And how do I accept this?”
“By remembering that you are human.”
I almost laugh at her. I almost yell. I almost just tell Bird the truth. That Rogues don’t think of Glitches at humans. But I don’t tell her any of this. Instead, I bite out, “I know I’m human.”
I think I see a crease of annoyance on Bird’s face, but it’s gone in a flash and she leans closer towards me. “Then act like it. Remember that humans are born, not made. Remember that all of this tech cannot give you peace—and it can’t lead you into the future. You cannot use your biogear.”
“That’s what this is about? The biogear?” I’m so disgusted by this whole ploy that I almost stand up and march out the door, but something stops me. I think it’s the look in Bird’s eyes.
“No. It’s about you. And me. And Skye. And all those you touch. These herbs can give you the sight, but your mind has to be open to it. How can it be open if you’re linked-in to some virtual world that has no connection to this one?”
The question doesn’t make me feel better, but it does force its way into my brain. “How long will I have to go without my biogear?” I ask. I don’t like the idea of not being allowed to use my gear, but the desire to absorb the “sight”, as she calls it, is growing. I want to know. I want answers.
She shrugs her shoulders. “That’s up to you. It takes different amounts of time for everyone, because the journey is personal. But I can tell you that you’ll never get the sight with that biogear. It’s an unnatural bioelectrical interference that blocks the portion of the mind you’ll need for the vision.”
I frown. For a long while, we sit there in silence, staring each other down. The reddish purple paste on her fingers seems like it should be dry, for all the time we’ve taken, but it still glistens wetly in the moonlight. The urge to get up and leave is still there for me, but it loses out to another urge. The urge to know. This is what makes me finally say, “Fine. Let’s do this already.”
There’s a flicker of a smile across Bird’s face, but it’s gone in an instant. She closes her eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath, and then when she opens them again I swear I can see myself in them. She leans forward further, the smoke wafting up to wrap around her youthful features. It makes her look older, ethereal and wise. She reaches through the smoke with her coated fingers. They touch my forehead and I’m surprised that the texture is smooth and warm. Slowly, she slides those fingers down my face, trailing over the bridge of my nose and to my lips. There, she smears the substance across them.
“See with your eyes,” she whispers. She gets more of the gunk and this time puts it in my own hands, smearing it across my palms and fingertips. “See with your mind. See with your heart. And remember that, with each gift, there is a choice and a consequence.”
She takes my hands in hers, the slick herbal mixture causing them to squelch slightly. Then she tells me, “Drink.”
I almost ask her “Drink what?” but then the bowl seems to appear in front of me from out of nowhere. The dark liquid sloshes still and now it has flecks of the blue powder floating along the tops of it. I hesitate, but something about the power of the moment urges me forward. I can do this. I have to do this.
I release her hands and take up the bowl. I bring it to my lips, aware that they’re still coated with that odd concoction. The liquid smells of wildflowers and bitter berries. I bring it to my lips. I swallow.
Like fire, it burns down my throat. I want to cough it back up, but can’t. My eyes water with the taste of it, which is how I imagine the desert to taste. Hot, dry, thick. I choke it down so that I can breathe and, when I do, I gasp for air. I drop the bowl. When I blink past the moisture that’s been collecting in my eyes, I see that Bird is now standing, the ceremonial items she brought with her are gone, and the last of the fire is dying quickly.
“What—?” I don’t even know what I’m trying to ask.
“You’ll see. Give it time, but I promise you, you’ll see.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Three days. That’s how long it’s been since the strange ceremony in the night with Bird. She promised me that I would “see”, but all I’ve seen is frustration in Alis’s eyes that I haven’t been using my gear. No visions. No revelations. Nothing. That first night, I was sure that I was opening up into this whole other world. I felt it. But by morning, th
at feeling had passed, and now I’m just cranky. And to make matters worse, Wolf has taken it upon himself to ban me from missions until I use my biogear again.He doesn’t even like the biogear!
Skye has been trying to make me feel better since our little session with Bird, but I’m not very responsive to her right now.
“I know it’s really hard, but try to remember that this is for the greater good.”
We’re seated for a meal. Alis and Dat have excused themselves—I think mostly because Alis doesn’t like Skye, and Dat goes wherever Alis goes. She shot me a meaningful look as she left, but I’m too annoyed, and too tired from not sleeping well, to decipher her meaning. So I sit with Skye, because it’s become somewhat of a novelty these days. Though I’m beginning to wish I left with the other two Glitches.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, chewing on some dried fruit. “I remember from the last time you told me. Like two minutes ago.”
Skye winces apologetically. “Sorry. I just know it’s hard for you, and I thought it might be easier if you remembered that it was for a good cause, you know?”
I feel like rolling my eyes at her and telling her that she’s buying into all of Bird’s mumbo jumbo way too easily, but then I remember that I bought into it, too. Enough to drink whatever that weird liquid was and to refrain from using my biogear. Even though it’s killing me.
“I know, and it does,” I tell her, only half lying. “It’s just hard. You know I’ve been banned from missions.”
Skye doesn’t say anything. I sneak a peek at her expression and see that she’s doing her best to tamp down some strong emotion. I suspect that it’s agreement with Wolf. She also thinks I shouldn’t be going out on missions. That sends my anger skyrocketing. I want to yell at her. It takes everything that I have to not.
“He’s just concerned about you,” she tells me, but I don’t buy it.
I snort and cross my arms over my chest, what little food I have left forgotten. “Doubtful. Wolf doesn’t care what happens to me.” I don’t mean for the words to come out so raw, but they do. I can’t ignore the hurt welling up inside of me. I wish I could push it down, ignore it and avoid it, but I can’t. I’ve decided that Wolf is not for me, but the ache in my chest… Well, it seems to have other ideas.
Skye puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not true. You’re important to him, and—”
Unable to listen to this anymore, I shake off her hand and stand abruptly. She blinks up at me in surprise. “I’m going to go see Alis,” I mumble to her and begin to head towards the Tech Room.
I hear Skye call out after me, “Remember, no biogear!”
…
I stomp angrily into the Tech Room and plop down on a stool next to Alis. She glances up at me, snorts, and then goes back to whatever she was working on. It looks like her gear again. She still hasn’t worked out the kinks in it.
“What?” I demand, still feeling annoyed after my conversation with Skye.
Alis lifts her shoulders casually. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “That wasn’t nothing.”
Sighing, she puts her gear aside and straightens up to look at me. She throws her hair over her shoulder, studying me a moment before commenting. “I’m just wondering what in the blazes you’re doing. I can’t figure it out.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I already know she’s talking about the gear.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I mean that you’re obviously very talented with bioengineering. Your gear is the only system that works effectively with integration. And I can tell that you’re passionate about it.”
“And you can’t figure out why I’d be passionate about biogear?” I ask, clearly stalling.
She waves her hand at me as though waving off the suggestion. “Don’t be stupid. I can’t figure out why you’d be so passionate about something one day, and then abandon it the next.”
“I’m not abandoning it,” I argue, but it’s halfhearted.
“Yes, you are. You won’t use it on missions. You barely work on it anymore. And when you do, it’s only on other people’s stuff. You won’t even help test the new equipment.”
I wince. All of that’s true. But it’s not my fault, not my choice. It’s just a necessity right now, to see if all of this craziness with Bird will work. Isn’t it worth trying, if only for the possibility that I could learn about who I am? I think so. And for that, I’m willing to put a hold on the tech. Even if it’s driving me a little crazy.
“So what’s going on? What changed? And what’s with you and Skye all of a sudden?” This last question sounds angrier than the rest, and makes me think that it’s the thing that really bothers her.
“Me and Skye have always been friends,” I tell her. And it’s true, though I know why she’s skeptical. For the last couple of months, we haven’t been. At least, not very good friends. I’m trying to fix that. Maybe we can be close again.
Alis grunts. “Whatever. That doesn’t mean you have to buy into her cult.”
“Cult?” I question.
“Yeah, cult. A group of crazies, all with the same outrageous belief.”
“I know what a cult is—I just don’t see how it applies here.”
She gives me a look that suggests maybe I’m being naïve. Or stupid. Maybe both. “Really? You can’t see the connection? You drop everything you believe just so that you can be friends with Skye again, even though on some level you must know that you’re right and she’s wrong? If she told you to walk out into the desert without water, too, would you do it?”
I narrow my eyes angrily at her. “Of course not. But she wouldn’t tell me to do that, either.”
“It’s just an example, okay?” she tries to explain, sounding frustrated. “You’re doing something really out of character. You’re not doing something really importat. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
I hesitate. It does mean something to me. And I do think the biogear is important. I think it’ll save us. But I need to know who I am, too. I need an explanation for the visions. Because, what if my belief in the biogear is somehow related to the AI? I was programmed before to find the Glitches. And I did that. Unquestioningly. The Rogues were right then; it was my fault that people died. Maybe not all of them, but some. The AI deliberately programmed me to go out and find the Glitches so that they might lead me to the Rogues so that the AI could destroy them all. And she wiped my memories so I wouldn’t fight her on it.
Deciding that I have to follow through with Bird’s vision quest thing, I let out a sigh and do my best to explain my actions to Alis—without giving her the details. “I know this all seems really weird. And I want you to know that I haven’t changed my mind about the biogear.” I glance around furtively and drop my voice. “Or getting info on the Norm. But this is something I have to do, too. I’ll help you in whatever way I can—”
“Just not in the way we need you to,” Alis finishes for me. She still sounds angry. Before I can come up with anything to say, she puts down what she’s been tinkering with and leaves. I watch her go, disappearing down the hall, and wish that I could explain it to her. But I can’t. If I try, she’ll really think I’m in a cult.
…
That night, I’m restless. It’s not just because Alis is still angry with me, but more because Skye is still spending time with Bird, who continues to not like me. It’s because I haven’t left the tunnels in days. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except that others have. And I should be out there with them. But Wolf put his foot down. “No biogear, no missions,” he told me sternly.
I think it’s absolutely unfair. Others leave without biogear. Bird, Skye... and even Crowe doesn’t have gear yet, though he’s one of the Rogues who’s working on integration. His just isn’t finished yet. But that doesn’t mean he’s grounded to the tunnels. So why me?
These are the thoughts that keep me up. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. I know I won’t sleep tonight, not with how things are right now. The knowledge makes
me get up and grab my bag. I was planning on going to the Empties the night that Bird gave me those herbs. Which haven’t helped me see anything, I think, a little peeved. But I push that aside. I haven’t been to the Empties in a while and I realize that that’s a mission I can’t be stopped from going on. I have a twinge of worry, because of not being able to take my gear, but I’m confident in my abilities even without it. I’ll be fine.
I get up quietly and pick my way through the beds on the floor. When I get to the door, I send a lingering glance back to the others, but then I turn and go. I make it to the main hall, but as I’m about to duck out into the tunnel towards the supplies—just for a little water and dried fruit—I’m intercepted.
By Wolf.
He looks… tired. There are circles like bruises beneath his dark eyes and his body seems to sag more than it ever has. There’s a slump to his shoulders that’s never been there before. I don’t like it.
“Where are you going?” he asks. I think he’s trying to sound tough, but mostly he just sounds weary.
I hesitate, then remind myself that I have every right to go when I please. “The Empties.”
A frown tugs at his full lips. “I said no missions.”
Irritation pricks at me, but I try to stay calm. Being irrational never gets me anywhere. “This isn’t a mission. And this isn’t a prison,” I say, gesturing to the tunnels surrounding us. “I can come and go as I please.”
Wolf looks like he’s trying to work something out in his head. Maybe what to say to me that will make me do as he wants. “That’s true, but it’s not a good idea. You’re vulnerable without your gear.”
I can feel the irritation flaring into full blown anger. Who does he think he is? “I’m just as capable as I was before,” I tell him, tilting my chin up to appear taller. It doesn’t make me feel taller.
“Things have changed.”
“I thought you didn’t like the biogear anyway,” I point out.
He purses his lips together, and for a moment he says nothing. I’ve got him on this one, because I’m right. He doesn’t like the biogear we’ve been working on. Like Bird, he thinks it’s unnatural. Which means he has to let me go out without it.
