Gen One

by Amy Bartelloni

  A light went off in Delilah’s head. “I’ve got something,” she said. She pulled out the vial and Zane raised an eyebrow.

  “You’ve got some friends in the Banks who don’t want to see anyone get pregnant,” she admitted, only half embarrassed. She’d suspected it was hard up liquor, and her suspicions were confirmed when she uncorked the bottle and smelled it.

  “Ugh,” she commented. Even Zane had to step back.

  “That must be ninety proof,” he commented.

  She dabbed a bit on her shirt, guessing the bots could detect that a mile away. “One sip,” she warned him.

  “Dee,” he said, as he watched her grimace the first sip down. “Even I wouldn’t take more than one sip of that.”

  “Gah!” She forced it down her throat, and it worked immediately. Her arms felt like jelly, and her inhibitions lowered. “Birth control, my ass,” she muttered. She only hoped it wasn’t poison.

  “Hoo!” Zane downed some, shook the bottle over their shirts, then threw it into the river. Delilah’s vision swam. She reached up and touched his cheek before she could stop herself.

  “Okay, lightweight.” He put an arm around her waist. “Showtime.”

  Together, Zane and Delilah limped back to the bridge as Delilah’s right leg started to go numb. If it weren’t for an overwhelming feeling of comfort, she’d probably have been concerned about that. It’s not like she’d never drank before, just not whatever was in that vial.

  “It’ll wear off soon,” Zane promised, only a slight slur to his words. They approached the crowd gathered at the bridge. The mass of color and movement made Delilah’s stomach a little ill, or maybe that was the potion.

  “How’d you know?” Delilah tipped her head up to his.

  He shifted her weight. “You procured this from the stall of Clarissa the Wise?”

  She hiccupped. “I procured nothing. She forced it on me. Because…”

  He frowned. “I know why. Silly, stupid superstitions.”

  Delilah laughed and rolled her tongue. “Silly superstitions.”

  He paused. “I know because I’ve drunk it before.”

  Delilah came to a full stop, almost toppling him down. He managed to look at least sheepish.

  “Not for that reason.” He held up a hand, then his mouth spread into a grin, and he laughed at the implication. “For the alcohol content only.” He pulled himself together. Delilah flexed her foot. She was starting to get feeling back and her leg was pins and needles. It felt like the potion slowly worked its way through her, then dissipated through her toes.

  He offered his arm. “Though for inebriation, it doesn’t work for long. But the smell will stay on us. It should fool the guards.”

  “How do you know it was the same potion?” Delilah asked. She forced her feet forward, one after another. The effects might be dissipating, but it was leaving a huge headache and a queasy stomach in its wake.

  “Because,” Zane cracked a smile. “Clarissa the Wise has only one potion.”

  “No!”

  “She changes them up with different herbs, but basically they’re all the same. Numbs you for a few minutes, enough to get you away from her.”

  “And people really buy this for birth control?” She shook her head and turned away. She took her cap back and perched it on her head. In front of them, Authority bots were establishing a perimeter under the bridge, keeping people back.

  “Not smart ones,” Zane answered. He slowed down. “They’re scanning people to let them pass.”

  Authority bots had set up a post at the bridge. They’d put up a tarp under the bridge, so they couldn’t see what was going on underneath, but a crowd had built and nervous chatter picked up, along with angry shouts. The Authority bots weren’t popular even on a good day, but no one dared stand up to them, unless they were anonymous in a crowd.

  “Zane.” Delilah pulled at Zane’s sleeve. The potion made her sick, but Authority bots didn’t help. Two huge bots, humanoid with silver skin, stood at the entrance to the bridge, checking papers and scanning them with their red eyes before letting people pass. More bots gathered under the bridge. Delilah felt their hum in her teeth. She whipped her head around looking for another way out, and a round-bellied man with a full, red beard emerged from the south entrance headed to the scene under the bridge. They weren’t close enough to see, but Delilah imagined fury on his face. It was perpetually there. Even if he wasn’t going to see two of his men who’d had their throats slit.

  “Rank.” Zane swallowed. He hesitated, but Rank disappeared behind the tarp. Zane plastered a fake smile on his face. “This probably isn’t a good time to tell you, but I owe him money.”

  Delilah cursed. “Is that why you’re on the list?” she asked. They joined the back of the crowd waiting to cross the bridge. All the lights and sounds and smells combined to make her stomach turn. She kept her eyes trained down, cap pulled low, and imagined Zane would try to bribe the bots and twisted the ring around her finger. She hoped it would be enough to pay for their passage across.

  “That would be a different reason altogether,” he mumbled in answer. He tipped his head down to meet her eyes, and his crinkled in concern. “You look a little green.”

  “That would have nothing to do with the potion we ingested, would it?” she hissed. “Let’s go. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Good.” He stood straight and took her hand, weaving her through the crowd. “Use that.”

  “Use it,” she mumbled, along with a few choice curse words. “Do you see Gen?”

  He shook his head, making it to the middle of the line before stopping. People jostled them from both sides, grumbling about the wait and what was going on.

  “No.” He looked over the crowd, but it wasn’t unusual for Gen to go off alone. Although she lived with Delilah, Gen had freedom to explore, and she did. More than most bots, Delilah thought. In fact, Delilah wasn’t sure what Gen did with most of her time.

  “What’s happening?” She stood up on tip-toes to see they were near the front of the line, and the nausea came back full force. It wasn’t from the potion this time, but nerves. They’d broken a lot of rules together, but never one that could get them so punished. Never something that could have implicated them in murder. The Authority was lenient with smaller crimes. The miscreant list could earn you a night in jail or a fine, but heavier crimes were punished. There were no more judge and juries. The accused, like Zane’s mom, were taken away to Authority City and never seen again.

  “We’re almost there. Act natural,” he told her, but his pale face betrayed his nerves. She reached up and pushed a curl off his forehead, feeling cool sweat. She took off her cap, shook off the water, and placed it on his head.

  He tilted it a bit off center in an adorable way, and gave her a half smile. “You think it looks better on me?” he joked.

  “I think they’re looking for you and not me. Maybe the cap will help.”

  He adjusted it. “If only it were that easy. Come on.”

  The world had stopped spinning. The effects of the potion had mostly worn off, but the smell clung to them. It wouldn’t be easy to remove. It was as if the liquid had burned into their skin. She noticed the crowd giving them a wide berth, or at least not shoving into them.

  Zane had plastered on his fake happy face. It was one she could recognize a mile away. It was the one he plastered on with girls like Mena. For a while she thought it was in her head. Jealousy, or whatever. But something in him was restless, and he only really let down his guard when they were getting into trouble. Roaming the Banks. Or lately, just being together. She watched his dark brown irises scan the Authority bots at the checkpoint and squeezed his hand to calm him down. A quick heartbeat was a sure sign of guilt, but she found taking his hand had the opposite effect on her, and she dropped it just as quickly. He gave her an apologetic smi
le, and it was their turn at the front.

  Authority bots looked almost human, if you don’t mind the silver skin, round, bald, heads, and red eyes. They wore standard Authority clothing, blue shirt and pants, but they were anything but standard. Delilah had seen firsthand what was hidden under their skin. They could pull out any number of torture devices on a whim, and rumor had it the new gens could fire up to a mile away. Delilah couldn’t confirm or deny that.

  Zane kept his head tucked down so they couldn’t scan him. He had ways to trick the scanners, ways Delilah didn’t even ask about, but bots weren’t above bribes either. She wondered how much of that was programming, or if they were able to think on their own. She had no doubt Gen made her own decisions, and she sometimes wondered if Gen had a soul woven in with all those circuits and wires. Gen understood right and wrong. She could make choices. These bots, though, were all business, and their business was enforcing Authority rules, and maybe lining the pockets of the Authority.

  She swallowed and measured her breath but it was useless. She reached up to pat down her hair. The wild curls probably only reinforced the image they’d been partying by the docks, as well as the caked mud all over them.

  Zane stepped forward.

  “Documents?” the bot asked, over the whirr of its systems. Zane handed the bot what she assumed were forged documents, he had a slew of them in his pockets at all times, and it took them into its metal claws while Delilah fished hers out and held on to them. A red light washed over his docs, and Delilah tried not to hold her breath. She peered anxiously over the side of the bridge, but all she could see was white light. She hoped they were scanning docs and not faces today, but it only took a couple seconds to realize they were screwed either way.

  The bot waited a second too long, and that’s when Delilah knew they were in trouble. The level of trouble, though, depended on how they reacted. Zane caught her eye, and a flash of fear passed over his. So big trouble, then. Time slowed down. She wondered, briefly, if it was a side effect of the potion, but she didn’t have time to think about it. They needed to make a choice, and they needed to make it quickly.

  “Run,” she whispered, but Zane already had the same idea. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her through the crowd. She shoved her papers in her pocket, dodging arms and elbows and grumbles from the crowd. It was only ten seconds before the sirens went off.

  The sirens?

  “What kind of trouble are you in?” she asked, but Zane was ahead of her, pushing and shoving people out of the way.

  The crowd worked in their favor, but belatedly she noticed the sirens were focused on the area under the bridge. Maybe they’d be lucky and have enough of a diversion to get away. Zane reached the edge of the crowd, ducked his head in, and ran toward the industrial section. He was still holding her hand, but she jerked it back. He gave a questioning look, but she gestured ahead. She could run better free of him. They both knew it.

  It was only a block to the closest warehouse, and there were a lot of people around. It was as if the Banks had been evacuated, and maybe it had? That could only work in their favor. Zane dodged a man on his knees retching, one Delilah recognized from the smoke room, then he slowed down and tried to blend in. The cap had blown off Zane’s head, leaving his hair a windblown mess. The sirens blazed in the air, and the bots voice came over the intercoms.

  “TRAITOR TO THE AUTHORITY. CAPTURE AT ALL COSTS.”

  Delilah’s heart fell. “What have you gotten into?” she asked.

  He took her hand. “You can leave. They didn’t see your papers. Just run, join the crowd.” His voice was more frantic at every syllable.

  She shook her head. “No. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

  He turned away, judged the closest bot, and started walking nonchalantly to the closest warehouse. If they could make the corner, they might be able to disappear in the labyrinth of buildings in the industrial zone, but the spotlights were highlighting that area. They’d have to be fast.

  “I don’t know if it can be fixed.” He paused and winced as a spotlight came close. Each face was highlighted as it was scanned. Zane picked up the pace. “Those bodies?” he said, under his breath. “I might know something about that.”

  Delilah sucked a breath in. She would have stopped if she weren’t so afraid of being caught. “You’re involved in murder?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story.” He paused. Beams of light scanned the open street, and when they swept the other way, he pulled her down an alley. The sounds of bots were close behind them, and the Authority was bringing in another wave. This went far past the miscreant list. They’d been on that before and run away from it easily.

  “Zane,” she panted. They’d run two blocks and in between warehouses. The rain had slowed down, but the paved streets were slick and dark. She had to pause and catch her breath. The sound of the bots’ warnings carried even out here. They weren’t safe. The spotlights swept closer and closer.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned back to her with a grimace, reaching up to push his hair back off his face and turn in a circle. “I didn’t want you involved in this.”

  She took a step toward him. “I’m involved now,” she said, though if it came out as an accusation or an apology she didn’t know. Somewhere in between.

  Light washed over the next street, and someone screamed. “We need to get farther in,” he said. Delilah only hesitated a second. The industrial zone was a known haven of crime. Anyone they met out here would be dangerous. But not as dangerous as the Authority, and whatever secrets Zane was hiding. She took a deep breath and followed him deeper into the maze of warehouses and buildings. Light faded away, and soon it was only the sound of their footsteps sloshing in puddles, and their breath in the night.

  Delilah had been in the industrial section, but not often. Her father had worked there before his accident and death. More than once, he’d warned her about conditions there.

  Bots don’t care about our working conditions, Dee, he’d told her, waving a wrench as he tried to fix her bike after dark so she could go out with Zane. She must have shaken her head because he stopped what he was doing, and looked straight at her, making her squirm even in her memories. His brown eyes were intense, a feature she’d inherited, both the color and the passion. I mean it. Stay away from there, and especially at night.

  She forgot the rest of the conversation. Many things about her parents’ lives and deaths were nothing but faded memories now. But he left her with an overwhelming nervousness about the section of the city that housed warehouse after warehouse, and the danger was made plain when an unsecure beam fell and crushed her father only a year after that conversation. Or at least that was the story they’d heard. Her mother died shortly after, leaving Delilah to the care of an aunt. And now, alone.

  “I think we’re okay.” Zane stopped, only slightly winded, though Delilah had to stop and grab the corner of a building. None of the warehouses had windows, a fact that led to much speculation but few facts. Delilah knew they made the robots there, but what kind and where were a subject of wild rumor. She eyed the building, noting the camera in the corner.

  Zane looked over her shoulder. “They’re mostly busted,” he told her.

  “How do you know?”

  He sighed. “Because, Dee, I busted them.”

  She looked up at him. His lanky height left a long shadow in the low light. The rain let up, and the sliver of a moon slipped between the fast-moving clouds. It dropped enough light to see a strange look on Zane’s face. He bit his bottom lip and looked down. Guilt, if she had to guess. The emotion wasn’t something she saw on him often, so it was hard to read.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. She pulled her long hair back and knotted it. The camera at the corner kept still, tilting down with its red light off. He might be telling the truth, but how, and why?

  “It’s kind of a long story.�
�� He took her hand and pulled her further into the shadows. “Before we get into it…”

  His hand gave a slight tug on hers, enough that she had to skip forward and straight into him. His back was against the wall, but his body wasn’t cold when she put her arms up and onto his chest. Quite the opposite, actually.

  They’d played with this relationship off and on. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d kissed Zane, but the push and pull of their relationship became too much sometimes. They spent time apart, they missed each other, they got back together. Zane was her constant though. No matter what happened between them. No matter who else was involved, he’d always been there, and he always would.

  And it didn’t hurt he was a great kisser.

  She paused for a moment, her hands on his chest. His shirt was still wet from earlier, but under it, she felt his strong muscles flex. When she looked up, it was another emotion on his face she didn’t recognize. His eyes widened and looked like they were about to spill tears. He was holding something back, but before she could ask, the look passed and was replaced by an intensity that frightened her.

  He pressed his lips to hers, forgoing any softness, devouring her like it was the last time they’d ever see each other. Zane had the ability to melt her right down to her toes. To make her forget they were standing in the middle of an empty, dangerous city. That, somehow, he’d done something major and was being hunted. He spun her around, pushing her back against the wall, and pressing into her.

  She untangled her arms from around his neck, wondering when that had happened, and pushed back on his chest.

  “Zane,” she breathed. He leaned back, but tipped his head so their foreheads were touching.

  “I just need you to remember this.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “If…when…anything happens.”

  “What have you done?” she asked. Her voice betrayed her concern, but there was an edge to it that sounded like anger. She knew he got into trouble. She knew about the drinking, and the girls—but murder? Taking out cameras in the industrial zone? This was bigger than she had imagined. And, at the bottom of it, she was hurt he’d left her out.