by Sarah Zettel
It would be better than just wandering around the corridors anyway. Chena slipped through the curtain opening.
“You don’t belong here, Chena Trust.”
Chena jumped, stuffing her fist into her mouth to stop her scream. Her heart beat frantically, until she felt like it would explode.
There was no one else in the room. She was alone. No shadow moved outside the curtain. Chena lowered her hand.
“Excuse me,” she said, her eyes flicking every which way, looking for the speaker grill, or intercom, or anything. “I didn’t know.”
“You did, but you ignored it.” The voice might have belonged to a young man or a middle-aged woman. It was soft, smooth, and perfect, and a little sad. It sounded like it was coming out of the air by Chena’s right ear.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Alpha Complex,” replied the voice. “You have come to live in me, and I’m rather sorry you don’t like it.”
Okay, okay. Chena rubbed her hand against her thigh, rubbing off the spit and the sudden sweat. It’s just a computer. Nothing to get excited about. It’s not like you haven’t talked to a machine before.
“I need directions to the foyer,” said Chena. “Respond.”
“No,” answered the Alpha Complex. “You need to return to your bedroom.”
“I need directions to the foyer,” Chena repeated, clenching one fist. “You will respond.”
“No.” The complex’s voice remained unperturbed. “It is not time for you to be there yet.”
Chena’s gaze swept the room. If there was a control pad somewhere, she couldn’t see it. That left her with no way to force this machine to give her what she needed.
“Why didn’t you say something when I went out?” she demanded irritably. “You could have saved us both the trouble.”
“I wanted to see what you would do.” The complex sounded marginally more cheerful, even a little pleased with itself. “If you had turned back at any time, you would have found the signs on at half power.”
“So, you let me get lost.” Chena tried to put some heat into her voice. Right now she just felt cold. She did not like this thing. It wasn’t acting like an artificial intelligence, even a gatekeeper. It was acting like… like… a cross between Teal and Experimenter Basante.
“I let you reach your limits,” answered the complex. “I would not have let you distress yourself unduly, don’t worry.”
That wasn’t one of the things I was worrying about, trust me, thought Chena sourly. “So, you’ll let me go back now?”
“Of course.” The curtain whisked silently aside. Chena swallowed again. She hadn’t realized this… AI, or whatever it was, could work the curtains. “Follow the signs. They will take you straight back to bed.”
Out in the corridor, exactly at her eye-level glowed the amber words CHENA’S BEDROOM, along with an arrow pointing to her left. She looked to her right. In that direction, the corridor had been completely blanked out. Not even the night-lights cut the darkness. Chena felt resentment, fear, and rebellion stiffen her back.
“Don’t worry, Chena Trust,” said the complex. In front of Chena, her reflection shifted, becoming another girl about her own age, but taller, broader, with bouncy chestnut hair and dusky skin. “My people and I will take good care of you. You just need to let yourself get used to us.”
Chena looked away as fast as she could. She started running in the direction the arrow pointed. The corridors lit up for her, with helpful arrows and signs, and within minutes a green curtain drew back and she tumbled into her sleeping alcove. She dove under the blankets and drew them all the way over her head, curling up into a tight ball. She shivered and prayed that under here, at least, the thing, the complex, couldn’t see her, wouldn’t speak to her, wouldn’t read her mind. She wished desperately she was back in the trees with the flowers and the bats, even the ants. She wished she was back on the station with the whirs and clicks and stinking corridors and Eng and King and their stupid games, or away out on some strange world with her father. She wished she was anywhere, anywhere at all but here, where the walls were watching her, and smirking about it.
It took a while, but eventually the startled fear gave way to anger, and Chena was able to unroll herself, although she did not stick her head out of the blankets.
I need to let myself get used to it, do I? She clenched her teeth, her fists, and every muscle in her body. That is not happening. I’ll find a way around you if it takes me ten years. I promise you I will.
Morning came all at once. Warm light touched Chena’s face, turning the darkness behind her eyelids red. She blinked and sat up. The blank night world was gone, replaced by a grove of trees that looked like they had been taken straight out of the forest around Offshoot.
“I’ll pick my own walls, thank you,” muttered Chena as she kicked the covers back.
The trees faded away, leaving behind blue screen and touch pad area. Chena scowled and ignored them. She pulled her curtain back, stumbling into the dark common area. She blinked and knuckled her eyes. It was still night out here, as well as behind Mom’s and Teal’s curtains.
The stupid complex had woken her up early.
“Next time I’ll wake your sister up first,” said the complex’s voice. “You need to take turns using the washroom anyway.”
“What the piss kind of computer are you?” demanded Chena in a hoarse whisper.
“My own kind,” replied the complex. “How hot do you like your shower?”
“Leave me alone!” snapped Chena. “Or do you like ogling little girls in the shower?”
This time there was no answer. Chena stormed into the shower, wishing there was a door or even a drawer to slam. But there was nothing. She thumped her fist against the wall but it produced nothing except a muffled thud, and it hurt.
The shower was frustratingly comfortable, the towel was thick, and the clothes in the drawer were brainless-looking—just a green shirt and black pants, but they were clean and more comfortable than anything she’d worn since they’d gotten to Pandora.
All of which just made her more angry.
She stomped out of the bathroom just as Mom was coming out of her sleeping alcove.
“I hate it here!” Chena announced.
Mom blinked at her. “This is not news, I’m afraid, Supernova. What do you hate?”
“Everything!”
A chime sounded outside the curtain that opened onto the corridor. Mom smoothed her nightshirt down and went to open the curtain. Chena followed, trying to make her pay attention. “There’s this computer, it runs the whole place and it spies on everything, I swear Mom, it’s not safe. It’s probably—”
Mom drew the curtain back. On the other side stood a smiling woman. Her skin was pale, but her hair was coal black and bundled into a knot at the back of her neck. She wore a loose white tunic and a black skirt that reached down to her ankles.
“Good morning, Mother Trust,” she said, saluting. “I’m Abdei and I’ll be one of your daughters’ teachers. I’m here to take Chena to her testing appointments.”
“Oh.” Mom returned the salute a little uncertainly, glancing down at Chena, already washed and dressed.
“Mom,” said Chena urgently. “I told you—”
“Chena,” she said sharply. But then she turned to Abdei. “I’m sorry. It’s still a little early and I was hoping the girls and I could have breakfast together before they started school.”
Abdei’s smile broadened. “I understand, but we do need to get started. I’ll have her back by lunch.”
Mom hesitated and Chena bit her lip. For a moment she thought Mom was going to refuse, but she didn’t. She just said, “All right. It’ll be lunch, then.” She gave Chena a quick, one-armed hug. “Behave yourself for me, all right, Supernova?”
“Yeah,” said Chena sullenly. She didn’t want to be angry at Mom. Mom was as much a prisoner as she was. But why wouldn’t Mom listen? Did she not want to hear how bad it was?
/> Abdei turned her smile onto Chena and gestured toward the corridor. Another Madra, always smiling and always telling you what to do. Chena kept her face closed and fell into step beside her, watching the walls and curtains, and saying nothing at all. All signs were back on. This morning the corridor landscape was images of beaches and oceans. Maybe she could count the turnings. Maybe after a little while she could learn her way without the signs.
Abdei walked beside her in silence for a moment. Chena didn’t look at her. Then she said, “I understand you met Aleph last night.”
Chena didn’t let herself look up. “Aleph?”
“Our city’s mind,” Abdei told her. “The complex’s artificial intelligence, if you like.”
“Oh, great,” said Chena, still keeping her eyes straight ahead of her. “It’s not just a spy, it’s a mouth.”
She expected Abdei to get mad, but Abdei just chuckled. “Yes, well…”
“It’s for my own good?” inquired Chena.
“No. It’s for ours.”
They stood in front of the foyer door. It hadn’t even taken five minutes to get there, Chena was sure. How had she gotten so lost? Was this place really that big?
Or had some of the walls she’d thought she’d seen last night been simulations? Chena frowned back at the dorm.
“Your own good?” she asked.
“Yes.” Abdei pressed on the door handle. It opened easily for her. She stood back to let Chena walk through into the real sunlight of the atrium. “When we let new people in, we know they’re nervous. Nervous people can make mistakes, get into places that are dangerous, or they can just get confused and lonely. Maybe they made a tough decision before coming here and think they might regret it. We can’t be there to help out everybody, especially now that we’re taking in so many new people. So, Aleph is there for you, and for us.”
“So, because you’re understaffed you bug the dorms?” demanded Chena.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Abdei raised her eyebrows. “If Aleph hadn’t stopped you, you would have been out and wandering around who knows where. You might have even tried to get out into the marsh, and then we might never have been able to find you.”
Which was a fair call, but Chena wasn’t ready to admit it. “I imagine you guys aren’t very big on privacy regulations.”
“No,” answered Abdei simply. “They don’t work very well for us.”
“I guess not,” muttered Chena.
Abdei clicked her tongue on the back of her teeth. “I can see you’re going to be one of the fun ones.”
Chena gave her a wide, game grin. “Bet on it.”
Abdei sighed. “I should have known, with an accomplice in involuntary—” her mouth closed abruptly, but it was too late and Chena wasn’t about to let her go.
She folded her arms, ready to stay where she was all day. “Where’d you say Sadia was?”
“I didn’t,” replied Abdei.
“What’s involuntary, then?”
Abdei’s eyes flickered from side to side, as if she were listening to some inner voice. “It’s another wing of the complex,” she said finally, focusing on Chena again. “For those who have forfeited their body rights by breaking the law.”
“What did she do?” demanded Chena. “She couldn’t have done anything.”
Again, Abdei took that listening stance. What was she hearing? Aleph? Could the complex talk just to her? Were they wired somehow? She couldn’t see any jacks or implants on Abdei, but that didn’t mean piss around here.
“She was found loading a virus into the Offshoot library computer so that it would alter some of the village records.”
The hacker-tailor. Chena felt her eyes widen. Sadia had done it. She’d taken the three hundred to carry that program. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that. The little mushroom of a man had helped take her father away from her. Chena shook her head. Unless what she thought before had been true, unless what he offered her was not money, but a chance to find out where her father was.
Was Sadia’s father in here? Maybe she was with him right now. But if she was in prison, what would that matter?
“And you people thought I helped her, so you bullied my mom into doing your thing for you.” She couldn’t make herself name that thing out loud.
Abdei shrugged. “I know nothing about it, Chena. I’m just a teacher and you are my student. If we can work together, you’ll learn a lot and the future will open up for you.”
Chena’s eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t, I’ll end up in the involuntary wing with Sadia?”
“Only if I fail at my job.” It took a few moments for her smile to form again. “And only if you want to upset your mother very badly.”
Something in the way she emphasized the last sentence sounded a low warning signal in the back of Chena’s mind, but she couldn’t really understand why.
“You’re a good girl, Chena,” said the complex’s voice out of the air. “You do not want to cause trouble, I know that.”
Abdei smiled again and her whole body relaxed. “Hello, Aleph.”
“Hello, Abdei. Hello, Chena.” The dusky-skinned girl Aleph had manifested the night before appeared in the middle of the beachscape and waved to Chena and Abdei.
You have no idea what I want. Then an idea came to her, made up of what Abdei had said and how Aleph was suddenly there.
“I want to see Sadia,” she said.
The image of Aleph shook her head. “That is not possible, Chena. She is not allowed visitors yet.”
Here came the gamble. She thought it was a good one, but she couldn’t stop her stomach from fluttering. “You don’t let me see Sadia, I’ll tell Mom you threatened me.”
Aleph paused for a moment and Abdei looked positively aghast. In that moment, Chena knew she was on to something. “I will. You can’t stop me from talking to her.”
Aleph recovered before Abdei did. “Why would I care if you told her what we’ve said?”
It was Chena’s turn to smile. “Because you don’t know what I might tell her. You don’t want her upset. You need her cooperation for your project. You don’t want her walking out of here and refusing to participate anymore.” Chena leaned in close to the imaginary girl. Abdei didn’t count here. Aleph made the decisions. That was crystal clear. “If you don’t let me see Sadia, you will not believe the stories I will tell her about how I am being treated.”
“I revise my assessment of you, Chena Trust,” said Aleph mildly. “You are a bad girl.”
“Probably,” said Chena, mocking the computer’s bland tone. “Do I get to see her?”
Another long pause. Chena wished she could know what was going on inside the machine. Abdei’s mouth was moving, subvocalizing to something, maybe Aleph, maybe whatever voice she was listening to earlier.
Aleph’s image spread its hands, a gesture of acceptance or defeat, Chena couldn’t tell. “I have arranged for you to see her. Your supervisors are in agreement. When would you like to go?”
Already talked to them? she thought snidely. My, aren’t you the efficient one. Chena’s shoulders straightened up in quiet triumph. “Now.” Now I’ve got you. Now I know how to work you.
“Very well. Abdei, I will take charge of her. You have other students.” There was no mistaking the look of relief on Abdei’s face. “Follow the arrow and signs to Section Yellow.”
The words SECTION YELLOW and a new arrow appeared on tiled floor at her feet. Still smiling from her triumph, Chena walked in the direction it pointed, past the glass bubble full of trees, ferns, and flowers. The arrow migrated across the floor just in front of her, rippling like a fish in a stream as it led her toward a neon-yellow door that Chena was certain had not been there when they’d last come through the foyer.
The yellow door had a palm reader next to it. Chena touched her hand to it automatically. The door slid open onto a long straight corridor with blank pale gold walls with the telltale sheen that told Chena they were more video screens controll
ed by Aleph. Despite that, the arrow still slid along the floor and Chena had to keep her eyes turned down to make sure she was going in the right direction. Black or white legs flashed past her on either side. Hothousers, going about their business. Some of them glanced at her curiously, but none of them said anything. The arrow at her feet seemed to be all the permission she needed.
The arrow winked off. Chena lifted her eyes in time to see a patch of the right-hand wall clear to form a window. On the other side, Sadia sat, alone, in an eggshell-yellow room, wearing what looked like a game rig. But if she was in a game, it wasn’t a very active one. Sadia sat still inside the flexible suit of wires and patches, only turning her head this way and that and occasionally raising her hand to adjust something. After a while, Aleph cleared a door in the back of the room and let in a woman wearing a long white tunic and black leggings. She helped Sadia off with the rig and saluted her. Their mouths moved the whole time, but Chena couldn’t hear anything that was said. Together, Sadia and the strange woman left by the rear door.
“There,” said Aleph. “She is not bottled in a test tube or vivisected.” Chena thought the voice grew a little smug. “That was what you were worried about, wasn’t it?”
The window clouded, leaving Chena staring at a blank wall. “But where is she? You said I’d get to visit her.”
“I said you could see her. Sadia is still under close supervision. She was brought here involuntarily.”
Chena bit down on her lip. Getting angry wasn’t going to work, she could tell by the placid tones of Aleph’s voice. She had threatened about as far as she could today.
“You’re not worried what I’ll tell Mom now?”
“Your mother and I have had a discussion about you,” replied Aleph. “She understands Sadia’s situation. Probably better than you do. You can ask her about it when you see her this afternoon.”
Chena felt her jaw drop. Of course the thing talked to Mom. It talked to Chena, didn’t it? But it was telling on her, worse than Teal, worse than the cop in Offshoot, worse than all the teachers and all the supervisors she’d ever had—
