Worlds Between

by Heather Lee Dyer

  I look up to see Gage watching me. “Are we allowed to be in here?”

  He laughs and walks over to me. He’s got an easy smile and broad shoulders. “This is our evening class. It’s all right if you don’t know anything about the tech stuff, we’re here to learn. They give us simple machines to learn how to use and fix for when we’re placed in a household.”

  I look at Tessa, who has joined us. “Do they allow everyone to take tech classes?”

  “Only the older kids. Humans make decent engineers, especially for dangerous repair missions.”

  “The sentinels aren’t good at the sensitive stuff,” Gage adds, wiggling his fingers. “We’re better with our hands.”

  “Some better than others,” Tessa adds with a smirk.

  He blushes and looks away. There’s warmth there, and I wonder if they’re having a relationship. I’m pretty sure dating in the compound is illegal, but I make a note of it. It could give me leverage later.

  An older man with glazed eyes steps into our room and leads us in some sort of Kreon mantra. He’s rotund and balding, with droopy eyes and a sick pallor like he spends too much time indoors. We face a flag in the corner of the room that has the Kreon black and blue logo on it against a white background. I stumble over the unfamiliar words. Something about service and duty. There is no emotion in the other student’s voices as we recite it. It’s just something expected of us. When we’re done the man gives us instructions for class and then leaves the room.

  Working with the tech helps me to forget, at least for a few hours, that I’m a prisoner in a guarded compound. I can just concentrate on something I’m good at; fixing machines. There are tools in the class that I’ve never seen before, and there doesn’t seem to be a tracking system for them. I know there are cameras in the room, I can see their red blinking sensors, and they hum as they swivel overhead. But if I’m careful, I might be able to steal some tools to help Jamie and I get out of here. I take a mental inventory of what’s available and where it’s stored.

  Then I relax and lose myself in the work, keeping to myself in a corner of the room, surrounded by large chunks of alien hardware. Although I usually work on drones, the Kreon household tech is similar in build. Busted tech is usually just faulty wiring or a loose connector that needs welding. Through trial and error, you can isolate the broken part and if you’re lucky, find a matching replacement from another device. I take a food processor apart and put it back together, amazed at the whirring internal blades that power the machine. They aren’t like anything I’ve seen from the Kreons, but must be harmless enough if they let us work on them. This one has a missing spring, so I fashion a repair out of some loose wiring, before cleaning the nodes around the battery.

  It’s near dark before I finish. I flip the switch and listen to it power up, then step back to admire the machine on my workbench. I turn to find my classmates staring at me.

  “What?” I ask, my skin itching under their gaze.

  Gage steps over to me, staring at the device. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Gage’s friendly smile is gone, replaced with an expression of jealous anger.

  “We’ve been trying to figure out how to get the processors back together for weeks.” He points at the other workbenches around me. There are pieces and tools scattered all around the main carcass of each machine.

  “Who trained you?” asks Tessa, crossing her arms. Her eyes flash, with what looks like a warning, or maybe an accusation.

  “My dad,” I frown. “Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “Most kids coming through here don’t know this much about Kreon machinery. So I’ve got to wonder how you were exposed to so much alien tech.” Her dark gaze drills into me, as her nails sink into the skin of my arm.

  “I’m not a Kreon spy, if that’s what you think.” I rip my arm out of her grasp and place my hands on my hips. “I’ve just always been mechanically inclined. This,” I point at the machine on the workbench, “is how I survived all those years by myself.”

  My words echo back to me in the silence of the room, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. I basically just admitted to hacking stolen Kreon tech. I glance into the corner of the room and see the flashing red light of a camera. My skin grows cold, as I picture the mech guards bursting inside to arrest me.

  Tessa looks at me for a few more seconds, then shrugs and starts putting away her tools. Gage is still staring daggers at me. Way to go, Rya. Make enemies on your first day.

  We all line up at the door and wait for our turn to exit. I’m shaking as I pass between the mech guards. The air is cool as the sun sets, and I gulp down some calming breaths. Hundreds of kids stream out of classrooms, heading toward the slightly taller dorm building. Some of the kids are gathered around a small campfire, roasting marshmallows and singing. An outdoor screen is projecting an action movie. As the light fades, I notice the white petals of the lotuses glow like lanterns, and the calm pools reflect the stars.

  The compound is nothing like I expected, and I still can’t believe they’re teaching humans to repair Kreon tech. I wonder what everyone else is learning. Part of me wants to stick around longer, just to soak up as much useful information as possible. I wonder if that’s how the New Terra contact feels, and why she hasn’t left yet. I scan the perimeter, checking again for weaknesses in the security.

  Something catches my eye just outside the fence. I narrow my eyes as I recognize the shape at the edge of the tree line. Elan. A shiver goes up my spine.

  I trip and stumble into Tessa, who is walking in front of me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Tessa glares back at me over her shoulder.

  I nod toward the forest. Elan is still standing in the shadows, watching us with a frown. Tessa sees him too, and I see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. But before I can press her about it, we hear a loud crash and spin towards the thick gate at the entrance of the compound. It swings open slowly and an armored van rolls inside. Tessa pulls at me to walk faster, and we hurry to catch up with our group.

  “We need to get back. Now.”

  EIGHT

  THERE’S FEAR IN HER VOICE so I stay quiet and follow after her. We walk back to the dorm silently. She seems distracted, and disappears into her room without saying goodbye, leaving me alone in the hall. I hold my arm out with my new tattoo against the scanner on my door. The light glows green, and below it my new name scrolls across a digital display. Larsen, Lila.

  I collapse on the bed, which is softer than I expect, and when I open my eyes again it’s morning. I jerk awake at the sound of bells, until I realize it’s just a call to breakfast.

  I get dressed quickly and follow the others downstairs. This time my tray is filled with eggs, potatoes and even a slice of bacon. I haven’t had a breakfast like this in years. As I eat, my eyes scan a list of rules posted against the wall, along with a general warning.

  Humans will be disciplined for any infractions. If you hear or see any resident of New Elmira breaking these rules, you must tell the nearest supervisor, or you will share their punishment.

  Tessa is missing for most of the day, and I see her chatting with a new girl I don’t recognize. More recruits must have arrived in the van last night. I don’t get a chance to talk with her until after dinner. Someone has been in my room when I return to the dorms; my bed is made and a basket of personal items is on the shelf with a toothbrush, toothpaste and soap.

  After I shower, I follow the voices to a common room at the other end of the hallway from the showers. The room is brightly lit and has couches with colorful pillows, long wooden tables and chairs scattered around. I frown at the self-serve hot chocolate machine, as a girl fills her mug with a generous portion of whipped cream. If there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that good things always have a cost.

  Some girls are studying, others are playing board games or cards. Cheery classical music frolics in the backgr
ound. There’s even a bookshelf full of novels, no doubt carefully screened by the Kreons.

  I grab a book and settle in, listening as the girls around me talk in measured tones about their day, the projects they worked on, and what kind of jobs they hope to get. The noise and company is soothing; but for some reason I feel more alone here at the compound than I ever did in our small cabin in the woods.

  Tessa comes in with a pile of laundry and sits not far from me on one of the couches. I scoot closer. She sees me and nods, but doesn’t initiate conversation.

  “Tessa?” I ask.

  “Yes?” She glances around the room, then looks at me under lowered eyelashes.

  “I was just wondering why they allow us a choice in jobs here? Why don’t they just,” I lean close to her, “reeducate us into the jobs they need?” I finish in a soft whisper.

  Tessa stares at me for a second, then takes out one of her t-shirts and holds it up to my chest, leaning her whole body in close. “The reeducation only works on attitude, not aptitude. Their reeducation machines can only make us suggestible to their training, not give us the ability to learn and do the jobs.” Her whisper is harsh; a warning I shouldn’t be asking questions like this, here. “They won’t put you under the machines until the next level you earn. That’s why they give us mood stabilizers in the milk first.”

  “Stabilizers?” I ask, repeating the unfamiliar term.

  “Drugs to rough out the edges, make us more docile.”

  “What, they make us happy on purpose?

  “Sure,” she smirks. “The more content we are, the less likely we’ll want to leave or start trouble. They’ve probably found we’re much more dependable if they give us the illusion of choice. Something to focus on, a reward for good behavior, so we have to work to prove ourselves to them. It’s clever actually, they understand us more than you might think.”

  More loudly she says, “Yes, we should definitely get you a different size shirt tomorrow. You’re closer to my size than the size they gave you.” She throws her folded laundry into a basket and stands up, ending our conversation.

  I watch as she treads down the hallway, wondering if I’ve done something to offend her. I kick myself for not asking her about Elan immediately. I’m sure she recognized him, but did that mean she was the contact I was looking for? If so, I needed to get her to trust me enough to give me the information he was after. But if it wasn’t her, and I told her I was working with the rebels, would she turn me in? Elan told me the girl had a scar on her left arm, so I spent more time than necessary hanging around the bathroom, looking at the other girls. I’m pretty sure they were starting to avoid me. At least, everyone except a redhead named Stacy, who winked and blew me a kiss.

  Three more days pass in a blur of schedules and classes. Following Tessa’s lead, I’m just trying to blend in and keep my head down, until I have an opportunity to escape. At lunchtime I catch a glimpse of my brother, and during tech class I get to lose myself in repairing machines. I don’t even know what some of them do, but each one is like a little puzzle. Fit all the pieces, connect the wires, find the switch that turns it on. Although they restrict us to household electronics, I’m happy to be working with tools again.

  I don’t get a chance to talk to Jamie again though, and at least once I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him drinking the milk. Tessa makes sure I don’t wander away from our group again, but also shuts me down whenever I try to go explore. I know she’s just trying to help me, but I wish I could spend more time with him. At least I know he’s safe. For now.

  Most of my other classes aren’t as enjoyable. Whenever I walk into our ‘history’ class I want to throw up. I sit there in my desk listening to the teacher, with blue clothes and a dark moustache, talk about all the ways the Kreons have helped improve human lives since the original invasion. The first few days I asked questions, trying to poke holes in his alternate history, but after getting kicked under the table by classmates, I now stay quiet. A good percentage of our class seems to actually agree that the Kreons saved humanity from its own inevitable destruction. Calmly, a girl named Rachel tells the class how the Kreons founded the compounds to educate us, have stopped our wasteful energy production, and saved us from starving. There’s a fervent sheen to her eyes as she describes how corporate greed endangered nearly every other species on the planet, and I know she’s a model citizen in the making. When she says only the best of humanity are accepted into the compounds, and everyone still living on their own are barely more than wild animals, I roll my eyes at Tessa. She keeps her face stoic but I see her lip curl into the tiniest of smiles.

  I haven’t seen Elan again, and part of me is afraid he’s already given up, or gotten the information he needs without me. I don’t have a backup plan, but I start taking precautions in case he doesn’t come through with his end of the bargain. My yellow uniform is a bit baggy, which gives me places to hide tools without suspicion. Several times a week, I knock the tools off my workspace with my elbow as I’m fixing the tech. In all the confusion, no one ever notices a missing screwdriver or chisel. I don’t know yet whether they’ll be useful, but I feel better being prepared. I’m pretty sure the floor in the corner of my room is a blind spot where the cameras can’t reach. At night, I shake my clothes out and hang them in the back of my closet, while sliding the tools in the gap between the wall and the bed. Then I stare up at the ceiling going over the campus layout.

  During morning exercises, we run laps around the perimeter, but each day I feel less confident I can get Jamie and I out on our own. There are too many buildings I haven’t explored. The drones seem to have no recognizable pattern, and adults in purple and blue clothes are always coming out of doorways or around corners unexpected.

  Then there are the other students; we’re rarely alone, and even some of the younger kids with clear eyes seem to have an overblown sense of loyalty to the Kreons, almost like they’re trying to earn their place. I’ve seen them casting me dark looks if I don’t finish washing my plate, or if my steps aren’t properly aligned with the leader of my group between classes. It takes most of my attention just to keep up and learn the rules of this place. I’m pretty sure the fence is electrified; whenever I’m close I can hear the steady buzz that raises the hair on my arms, and yesterday I found a dead bird in the grass. Which means, I’ll need to disable the center power grid first, assuming I can even somehow cut through the lattice of tightly-strung wires. I’d need at least a fifteen-minute window for all of that, and it probably needs to happen after dinner, when the shadows creep across the compound but before everyone is in bed. Nobody is allowed outside after curfew.

  When we aren’t in classes, we’re given chores or manual labor. Most of the girls my age are assigned to the garden; a sprawling indoor greenhouse full of potted plants and neat rows. Some of the plants I recognize. Carrots, potatoes, green beans. I’ve grown similar things in our valley, or at least tried to. There’s another section towards that back I’m not allowed to enter. The temperature is kept raised and it’s humid inside. Whenever the sealed door opens, a cloud of thick vapor escapes. Inside is a foreign looking plant I don’t recognize, and I wonder if it’s something from the Kreon home planet. Some of the older students are carefully wrapping wire around the gnarled trunk and branches to give it extra support.

  Suddenly my eyes zoom into focus, as I see something inside the sealed area that raises my heart rate. It’s a pair of long-handled wire cutters, perfect for getting through the fence. They’re too large to steal, but maybe I could pick them up after class and stash them behind the building.

  “Dhaz,” Rachel says, without looking up. She’s wearing gloves and repotting a rooted plant that looks like ginger. I snap my head to look at her. I didn’t even know she was next to me until she spoke.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s a kind of tea,” she says, rolling her eyes. Up close, I notice how long her eyelashes are, and that her blonde hair smells like
grapes. “Once we ascend to level green, we’ll get to learn the preparation ceremony. It’s a key part of Kreon culture.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Awesome.”

  She glares at me, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sarcastic. I smile, then go back to work, trimming the leaves of an apple tree that’s just about to bloom. It’s the most she’s talked to me all week.

  “It’s an honor even to work with the Dhaz,” she says, nodding towards the raised platform holding the foreign plants. “One not everyone appreciates. Three weeks ago, a boy named Eric tried to sabotage the crop. He left the water on, killing some of the plants. Some people think he was with New Terra. I’m pretty sure he was just careless.”

  I raise my head at Rachel, my eyes wide, then glance up again at the camera. She is speaking quietly, and nobody else is around us, but I still can’t believe she’s talking about the revolutionists so casually. I wonder if this is a warning, or a trap.

  “What happened to him?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

  She smiles grimly, peeling off her garden gloves and heading towards the sink near the toolshed. I finish quickly, taking one more snip of the sapling before standing up to follow her. I put my tools away, then stand next to her to wash my hands.

  “Once they realized who did it, he was dragged out of the dorms by mech guards, and killed. They zapped him into ash. Said he’d serve the Dhaz better as fertilizer and mixed him into the soil. In fact, you’ve probably got some Eric on you right now.”

  She smiles at me, and bile rises in my throat.

  I stand over the sink and scrub my fingers until they are raw.

  ***

  I don’t know if Rachel is just messing with me, but I can barely eat anything at dinner. If the Kreons killed a boy just for screwing up their crop of specialty tea, what will they do to me if they find the stolen tools in my room? I don’t want to find out. I have to get Jamie and I out of here, as soon as possible, but I need a distraction.