“Follow us,” was the terse order.
It took all of my strength not to roll my eyes. No, I thought I’d go on a merry stroll by my lonesome self, I snarked to myself. I had spent years learning to carefully choose my words; I wasn’t going to ruin that now by getting mouthy after a few years of freedom.
They led me out of the cell and down the hall. I surveyed the area as much as I could without spinning a full three-sixty, and my prison theory was basically one-hundred percent confirmed. I saw some of every species in every cell we passed in various stages of aggression. It seemed that prisoners weren’t separated by sexes or gender either, which was pretty interesting. I wondered if that helped or hurt compared to Earth penitentiaries.
Eventually, after what seemed like ten minutes of walking down row after row of cells, they reached a door that basically looked like it had walked off a starship. I saw the three officers scan something in their bracers, then place their thumbprint on a pad in the wall, then finally scan an eyeball. Welp, looked like I wasn’t going to be picking locks anytime soon.
Not that I knew how to pick locks, but that was beside the point.
Down more nondescript, chrome halls–although these were far dirtier and more battered than the lab I had first arrived in. Before the explosion, of course. But we passed door after door until, finally, the guards stopped and ushered me inside of another small room.
It was a bit bigger than my cell, with a chair in the center that could have possibly starred in either a horror movie or a space opera–coin toss on which–and a whole lot of equipment arranged around it. Two seirr in white jumpsuits stood ready with bigger versions of the techno-square that was currently in my brassier.
“Sit.”
I sat.
I had to admit, it was pretty uncomfortable just being still and polite as they strapped me down across my chest, waist, wrist, and ankles. I could see how someone might get a little…agitated being so confined. It made me feel small. I hadn’t felt small in a long time.
I didn’t like it.
The guards took a step back once I was arranged, and the two seirr came forward, speaking amongst themselves.
“Prisoner LL-69852, presenting with leg lacerations and compression fracture. Mild smoke inhalation and dehydration. What do you recommend?”
“Rehydration, followed by mild sedative for debridement of the wound. Once sterile injury site is confirmed, rebuilder nanites for the compression fracture and a skin graft for the necessary areas of skin.”
“Very good. Go ahead and start with your course of treatment.”
I could tell the taller seirr was nervous as they approached me. It was clear this was some sort of intern or resident, and I was part of their learning experience. Great. If there was one thing I loved more than being a prisoner in an alien universe, it was being a med student’s guinea pig.
However, I was kinda jazzed about the free, super advanced healthcare.
I watched with interest as the seirr loaded a clear, liquid-filled vial into what looked like a syringe, but with no needle. They pressed the head to my wrist, then depressed the end until the vial was empty.
Nothing happened for a moment, but then a cool, soothing feeling rushed through me, and my stinging thirst faded. I guessed that was their version of an IV. It was considerably faster and didn’t involve me being tethered to a stand that liked to topple over at any point, or a machine that screamed violent beeps every time its battery got too low.
I was all set for my own little learning experience in this reality’s modern medicine when the intern began prepping another vial. Oh, right. If I remembered correctly, that was a sedative.
“I should warn you,” I said, not sure if it was relevant or not. “I’m extremely susceptible to any form of sedation or narcotic. I only need a half dose at max.” I had no idea if these future medicines were built on the same rules as my world’s remedies, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I knew it was hard to believe, considering my size and all the procedures I’ve had done in my life, but even night time cold meds could knock me out for fourteen hours.
The intern looked from me, to their mentor, to me again.
“If your patient warns you of a sensitivity, listen. Apply a half dose, then we can reassess and increase the dosage later. In instances of non-emergency, it’s always important to be safe, rather than sorry.”
I let out a small breath I hadn’t been aware I had been holding, and the seirr continued their work. Just like before, they loaded a smaller vial, then pressed it to my wrist.
The result was practically instantaneous.
One minute, I was strapped in a chair in a galaxy that was not my own, worrying about reactions to sci-fi medication, and the next, it all just…didn’t matter.
You know what I wanted? A nap. A nap sounded great. I wanted to just close my eyes and drift off into the blissful relaxation of lala land.
‘This is who she was so obsessed with?’
My brow furrowed, and it felt like my mind was moving through molasses as it figured out who that voice belonged to. Slowly, I ticked through all the people I had heard speak in the room and realized it didn’t match anyone.
I cracked my eyes open to see they were all busy doing their things. Guards guarding. Medics, uh…medicking?
‘I mean, she looks imposing.’
‘Yeah, but we spent years waiting for that machine, and this is all she used it for before blowing it to pieces?’
Wait…no one around me was talking. Why was I hearing people talk? Hallucinating voices inside of a hallucination seemed like a bit of a stretch, so one of these things had to be real, right?
My head tipped forward, and it took me longer than I would like to admit that the lead seirr was moving it around to examine it with her techno-gizmo-whatever.
“Pelli, come here, please.”
Wait. I knew that tone. Although it felt like my brain was off somewhere, lightyears behind my body, I knew that tone. It was the doctor equivalent of an ‘uh-oh,’ which was not something I wanted to hear while I was strapped down in a medical chair.
The intern left my side, where I assumed she was monitoring my vitals to make sure I had been telling the truth about my sensitivity, then joined the lead seirr at my head.
“What does this look like to you?”
“A subdermal hematoma, with a very, very slow bleed. The rings of darker blood indicate that this injury has been through several periods of growth, so I would guess childhood trauma.”
“W-wait,” I mumbled, putting all of my brain power into moving my lips. It was surprisingly difficult to coordinate my tongue and jaw at the same time. They definitely had some good drugs in space land. “S-s-subdermal hematoma? I’ve been getting c-checked since I was a kid because of chronic mi-m-mi-m…headaches.”
There was silence behind me for several beats. “You still get headaches?”
“Yeah. You say that like it’s weird.” I gasped and tried to look back at them, but it was growing increasingly difficult to move my body. “Oh, my god, did you guys cure headaches?”
More silence, then quiet conferring that I couldn’t quite catch.
“Where are you from, Prisoner LL-69852?”
“That’s a mouthful, just call me Andi.”
“Where are you from?”
I shrugged. Or at least attempted to. It was more like a confined shimmy in the chair and pulled upon my knowledge of the books I had read. “Outer world. Like out, out. Out, out, out.”
The Seirr in charge nodded to the intern, who circled back to my side and began loading up another vial into her cartridge.
“Wait, what are you doing? I’m already pretty loopy. I’m not consenting to any more d-d-drugs…” I trailed off as she pressed it to my wrist once more, and another wave of exhaustion flooded me. Certainly, it couldn’t be so bad to just stop talking and drift off for a while, right? Humming to myself, I slid down into the warm sleep enveloping me.
I co
uld worry about what they were going to do tomorrow.
***End of Preview***
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Ralis 1st, 4702
Hello. My mother gave me this data-log today and told me I was to treat you as a diary. I do not think I need a diary, but both she and my therapist think it will help me practice my interactions with others.
I do not think I need to practice my interaction with others either. The children around me are boring, and the adults patronizing. I would rather read, draw, or play with Andi.
Now that I’m writing to you, I realize this may be a tactic to distance me from Andi. They think it odd that I, a gifted child, would still have an imaginary friend. I suppose it would be less strange to them if they knew she was real, but I do not know how to prove her veracity to them yet.
Oh, I suppose I should actually introduce myself to you. Not that you are a sentient being, but I researched how diaries are supposed to be used, and the most common utilization is to treat you as an always listening friend and confidant. I suppose that’s meant to be comforting, but I feel it makes me rather paranoid.
Either way, I will try to comply with my mother’s wishes as best I can. I know it is hard to have a child like me. Most children laugh, and joke, and squeal with delight at the colored lights of the holo-projector. But I always want to know why, and how.
Anyway, my name is Jyraxic-Vyrinnza, but you can call me Jyra. I prefer that, actually. I was born on Latier to my human mother and half-sierr father. They’re not sure if my intellectual abilities come from his side or a mutation in their genes combining, but I suppose that’s one of the few things I’m not curious about. I know I’m smart; I have too many other things to discover to worry about why.
I’m nine-years-old, but I am aware I am not like the others around me. It doesn’t bother me too much, but sometimes it is a bit lonely. That is why I am so grateful for Andi.
I should probably tell you about her. She’s my best friend in the entire world, except I don’t think she’s really in this world at all. Don’t get me wrong, she’s real. Definitely real. She’s just… real somewhere else.
I can’t really explain it, but one day I would like to. Maybe one day I’ll be smart enough. But for now, I accept the strange world she tells me about. Apparently, their space is very far away and only special people go there. Also, all her people live on a singular planet. It’s quite fascinating in a backward kind of way, but what I love most of all is all the art she shows me.
She has books of it! Page after page of fighting, flying, and contorting figures. And they’re not depictions of light either, but rather real, actual pigmentation on a physical surface. I would give anything to hold one of those in my hands and breathe in the smell of creation and dust.
Anyway, I think that is enough talking for now. I do not want you to get bored of me right away. I find myself already projecting my personality onto you, which is quite an interesting phenomenon. I hope you don’t turn out to be a bitch.
That would be terribly disappointing.
With cautious familiarity,
Jyra
Ralis 9th, 4702
I apologize for neglecting you for so long. A lot has happened.
For starters, I got into the gifted school that my parents had applied to. I must admit, I am… less than enthusiastic. I mean, I love learning, and I am certainly excited for the abundance of learning opportunities, but I can already tell that they’re going to try to make me get rid of Andi.
And I had another meeting with my therapist. He asked if he could read my first entry – if I was comfortable with it. I agreed, of course. I have very little to hide. My father jokes that maybe one day I’ll be smart enough to learn how to lie, but I very much doubt that.
But back to my therapist. He sat there, neutral as usual. His dark eyes regarded my dictated words slowly and surely. In fact, it was so slow, I found myself getting edgy while I sat there, watching him dissect my inner thoughts. I was surprised at how invasive it all felt, and I found myself suddenly wishing I had never agreed to it at all.
When he finished, I felt relieved as he handed you back. I held the data-log to my chest like a precious secret, and who knows, maybe you’re becoming just that. And then he looked at me with those dark, dark eyes that were so full of studies and what was known that he could never see beyond that like me. Like Andi.
“Perhaps you should write in it more like a story. Less like you talking to a friend, and more like a recording of situations and how they made you feel.”
Of course, I agreed, nodding my head obediently. Strangely, it wasn’t until I was out of his room and taking the shuttle back home that I realized they were probably going to continue to use it to observe my progress.
I didn’t like that idea.
So, I did the only sensible thing a girl in my situation could do. I went home, rummaged enough parts up in my workshop, and made a dummy data-log. The poor thing is going to have an unfortunate accident tomorrow, and then Mother will be forced to replace it. You’ll remain hidden, and no one will be the wiser.
I’ll write things in the new one every now and then. Mostly what they want to hear. But my true thoughts will go in you. I’m sorry for hoping you might be a bitch previously. I see now that that was me projecting my insecurities about being able to forge friendships onto you. After all, you’re just a digital representation of words, not a thinking, living being.
But still, it’s nice to pretend. I’ll have much to tell you soon, I’m sure of it.
Your new friend,
Jyra
Ralis 20th, 4702
I.
Hate.
This.
School.
For a building that is purported to be a place of learning, I feel as if I as I am no more educated now than when I started.
It all started out well enough. I walked into the stark, white building with the chrome accents, and sat in a class with stark, white walls and chrome accents, in a desk of white with chrome accents. It was all very cog in the machine, even if we are supposed to be the cogs that are more self-aware.
It was Meeysela who spoke to me first. She was a beautiful sierr girl with lavender-grey skin and massive, jet-black eyes. I could feel her gaze on me from the moment I sat down, and I foolishly returned it.
“Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
See? I was polite! So polite. Social norms dictate that she politely declare her identity back, but she didn’t. It upsets me when people break the rules. Conversations are like equations; you can’t just run off all willy-nilly with them. There are protocols, laws, standards…
Oh dear, I’m getting a bit carried away. Let me try telling the story again.
“Hello, my name is Jyra. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“You have hair.”
I nodded. “Yes. I am glad to see your ability to make and state observances is intact. That will be most useful in your education.”
“So, you’re some half-kin then, yeah?”
I sensed something a bit off in her tone, but I couldn’t deduct why, so I ignored it. It was odd that someone in a gifted school would ask me such an obvious question, but perhaps her strengths laid not in the sciences, but in music, art, or language. There were many ways to be exceptional, after all. It was not my place to judge that hers might be different from mine.
“Yes. My mother is human, and my father is a second-generation half-kin.”
I realize that you may not know what any of this means. Most likely because you aren’t real, but I will explain for posterity’s sake.
The sierr are a beautiful, multicolored race that can survive in both aquatic and terra firma environments. They have three sexes: hie, tiem, and hier.
The hie were
very similar to human males, but they could fertilize both tiem and hier as well as lay eggs. However, they were not able to self-fertilize. They were generally the largest and most athletic sex with the shortest lifespan.
The hier were similar to human females, able to carry children and give birth to live offspring. They were unable to fertilize other sexes, and were generally the smallest-framed sex, but with the longest lifespan.
And lastly was the tiem. They were similar to human females in silhouette, but could not carry unborn children or lay eggs. I had read that, upon human’s first integration into this system, them were sometimes referred to as the ‘bombshell’ sex, as they had visually appealing placement of adipose favored by both humans and krelach. This extra fat was an evolutionary trait as the tiem evolved as hunters who could dive much deeper into the dark waters of Latier than the other sexes to bring home bigger game for those bearing or protecting children.
But perhaps the most notable physical trait of the sierr is that they do not have hair. That is solely a trait of those who have bloodlines mixed with that of humans – i.e., me. Now, during the first generation of half-kin, there was much discrimination, and many terrible things happened. But that had been over two hundred years ago.
In fact, half-kin won the right to be recognized as full citizens of the United Council of Systems the year after I was born. So, how was I to expect what happened next?
“Then you’re basically a human.”
I titled my head and looked at her curiously. “No, I am a quarter sierr and three quarters human.”
“Whatever.” She made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat and looked forward. “Just keep your nasty hair to yourself. I thought this was a school for superior children.”
Dangerous Data (The Meridian Crew Book 2) Page 69
