Flawed

by Pauline C. Harris

  “I don’t think we have time to waste, Drew,” Cassandra said tiredly. “Everything is moving so fast, we need information and we need it as soon as possible.” She looked at me, her piercing blue eyes searching mine for a sign of agreement. “Just try.”

  I bit my lip. Just try. Those words were easier said than done. But I knew Cassandra was right. There really was no time to waste. I ran my fingers through my hair, a movement I had begun to associate with stress. This small movement made me think of Michael and the way he had always used to do the same thing.

  I stood up. “I’ll try,” I told her wearily.

  * * * *

  Yvonne sat at the front of her cell, staring ahead at the wall across the hallway. Her hair was beginning to grow out, I noticed. It almost reached her shoulders. Her eyes seemed less expressive, less bright, and less alive.

  “Yvonne?” I said quietly. She didn’t look up. I slid the chair across the floor so that it was in front of Yvonne’s cell. I sat down. “I don’t know why you won’t talk to me,” I told her. “I’m not...” I threw my hands into the air helplessly, “trying to hurt you or get you hurt.” There was a long silence. Yvonne still didn’t even look at me. I leaned forward so that my face was inches from the bars. “Please,” I said, “the creators tried to kill you; you have no ties to them anymore. Help us.”

  Yvonne glanced up, her eyes dark and angry. “I don’t think I can do that, Drew.” Her voice sounded strained and hesitant, but her eyes were steady and calm.

  “Why?” I pressed. “Why do you feel like you owe them?” Yvonne looked away. “We’re not your enemy anymore!” I went on. “They are.”

  Suddenly Yvonne looked up. Her eyes had lost their anger and in them was just curiosity. “I will not tell you,” she said firmly. I frowned. Her expression didn’t match the tone of her voice.

  I stood up. “Fine,” I said quietly. I turned to walk away but took one look back. Yvonne was staring at me. Her lips were pursed together, and her eyes pinned me to the spot. I stared back. Her eyes were speaking to me; telling me the things that her mouth couldn’t.

  But what were they saying?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I was back with Yvonne the next day. Part of me wanted to go back, but part of me didn’t. Not after what she had said. The tone of her voice had told me that Yvonne wanted nothing to do with me or any of the flawed. Her words had hurt, but something had kept nagging at me to return. It was her eyes. Her eyes had pulled me back. They had been filled with something I had never seen in her before.

  What had they been saying?

  I walked into the room, and Yvonne looked up when I came in; her face was expressionless. I sat down in the chair next to her cell, and we just sat there for a moment, watching each other. I took in a deep breath. “Why won’t you help us?” I had the urge to ask. I asked it quietly, conscious of Michael in the other cell.

  “I will not betray my creators.” She said the words like she had rehearsed them a thousand times, but deep down she didn’t really mean it. I frowned because, like yesterday, what her mouth was saying and what her eyes were saying were not the same. Her words had been stiff, and her eyes stared me down hungrily.

  “Yvonne?” I asked warily, unsure of what to do.

  Her eyes widened, and she ever so slightly shook her head. I gave her a questioning look. She pointed to her neck. I looked but saw nothing. I frowned in confusion.

  “I don’t—”

  Yvonne started shaking her head so violently that I stopped abruptly. She looked around the room, almost frantic, and finally spotted a small rock. I backed away, unsure of what she was going to do with it. To my surprise, she started scratching on the wall. Letters began to form.

  Injection, she wrote. Hearing you. She turned to look at me, her eyes staring at me more intensely than ever. And suddenly, what they said made sense.

  I stood up so quickly the chair almost toppled over, and I held in a gasp of alarm.

  The creators could hear us. Instead of killing Yvonne, they had sent her as a spy, equipped with recording software and most likely a tracking device. I was frozen. What could I do? Yvonne was already here; the creators had to know where we were by now. And what had her recording device picked up?

  Yvonne made a writing motion with her hands and then gave me a pointed look. I nodded and mouthed the words, Be right back.

  I quietly left the room and then raced across the clearing. In my tent were pencils and paper, and I quickly grabbed them before returning to Yvonne’s cell.

  I hurried down the hallway. I briefly glanced at Michael, seeing him scratching away in the corner again, and I shook my head, dismissing his odd behavior as pure boredom or something like that.

  I reached through the bars of Yvonne’s cell, handing her the paper and pencil. She immediately started writing. I stood there for a moment while Yvonne quickly scribbled words onto the faded notebook paper. After a minute she looked up and handed it back.

  They can hear everything, but they can’t see. They sent me here to get information. They know where you are, but they’re waiting to see what you’ll do.

  I read the note quickly and then scribbled something back. Are they coming? My heart was racing, my head was pounding; I wanted to ask all these questions so quickly. Writing them out seemed to take forever, and I wasn’t patient enough to wait the extra seconds that ticked by while we wrote our replies.

  Yvonne shook her head. She tapped her finger on a word that she had already written; waiting.

  Waiting. But for what? I started writing again.

  Can you tell me about how to fix the perfected? I handed her the note. Once she saw it her expression melted into a slight frown. She looked up at me and shrugged; not the tantalizing, indifferent shrug I had seen her use many times before, but this one was truly from uncertainty. She took the pencil and started writing back.

  Through the computers, she wrote. I nodded, trying to tell her that I already knew.

  But can you tell us how to fix them? I pressed.

  She shook her head, and I felt my heart sink. I wanted to scream at her; to ask her why, to make her explain, to ask her if she knew of any way, but I was forced to silence; the creators, once again, were monitoring my every word.

  Yvonne grabbed the paper and pencil back. I can’t explain how. Not enough paper.

  I stared quizzically at the note and gave her an incredulous look. I made a confused gesture with my hands. Yvonne only stared at me with an amused smirk on her face. I rolled my eyes. She started writing.

  But if you take me there, I can fix them for you.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I burst into Cassandra’s tent, causing her to jerk up from what she had been doing. “Drew!” she exclaimed, startled.

  I didn’t wait for anything else; I didn’t even care how loudly I said it, how upsetting the other news was, or anything else for that matter. I didn’t care. “She can fix the perfected,” I panted. “She can fix them,” I cried again.

  Cassandra’s face spread into a pleased but curious grin. “How?” she asked. “Were we right?” She stood up from her seat, putting down her tools on the table.

  I nodded. “Programming. She says if we take her there, she can do it.” Cassandra’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. My smile faded a little. “What?” I asked.

  “Drew, she could be lying,” she suggested.

  I immediately shook my head, but then was surprised to realize I hadn’t even thought of that possibility. After all Yvonne had done to me, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of her tricking me once again. I closed my mouth, which I had opened originally to protest.

  “I’m not saying this is true, but I don’t know her and if she’s what you and some others have described her to be, I wouldn’t be too quick to believe her,” she added.

  I looked away, wondering if Yvonne would lie to me. I shook my head; silly question. Would she lie? Yes. Did she lie? Unknown. I looked up to meet Cassandra’s
eyes, thinking.

  “Let’s go talk to her,” Cassandra said and started to head out of the tent.

  I quickly reached out to grab her arm. “No,” I said. She stopped and gave me a quizzical look. “There’s more that I need to tell you,” I admitted.

  Cassandra’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Something bad?” she guessed.

  “Yeah,” I replied slowly. Cassandra shifted her feet and cocked her head, waiting for my response. “The creators know where we are,” I said quickly, watching as Cassandra’s expression changed from mildly curious to horrified shock.

  “They know,” she uttered, her mouth open and her blue eyes wide.

  I started shaking my head and held my hands up. “But they aren’t coming. At least not right now. That’s what Yvonne said,” I told her.

  “How? Why?” Cassandra put her hand over her mouth, then took it off, sat down then stood up again. “Explain,” she eventually said.

  I took a deep breath and told her the whole conversation I’d had with Yvonne. I explained to her about her recording software and tracking device and how we had to be careful of what we said around her. The whole time, Cassandra’s expression seemed to get more and more scared.

  “The tracking device,” she said after a pause. “We need to disable it.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No. The creators already know where we are. If we disable the tracking device, they’ll know we’ve found them out.”

  Cassandra nodded and put her head in her hands. “Yeah,” she admitted.

  I started pacing back and forth in the tent.

  Cassandra looked up. “Yvonne said they were waiting,” she said. “Waiting for what?” Her eyes were filled with anxiety; an expression that seemed foreign to her face.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. To see what we’ll do, I guess.”

  Cassandra sighed. “We need to tell the others.” I nodded. “We need to make a plan.” She went on. “We don’t have a lot of time if what Yvonne’s been saying is true.”

  “I believe it’s true,” I told her. “I’ve never seen her act that way. She wasn’t lying.”

  Cassandra let out a sigh of frustration. “How much time do we have?” she asked wearily.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, not much.”

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, we were searching out Beatrix and the others, in an attempt to alert them to what we’d learned. We found them in the medical tent, going over inventory.

  Beatrix’s face went white when she learned the news, and Cameron pursed his lips together in concern. “Are you sure?” Beatrix asked me.

  “That’s what Yvonne told me,” I replied.

  “And we don’t want to take any chances,” Cassandra added. “I say we believe her for the time being and figure out some way to deal with this.”

  Beatrix sat down on the bed and bit her lip in thought. There was a long silence where all we did was stand there and think. I could feel the fear in the air around us, and I closed my eyes, hoping, praying, for an answer.

  Beatrix’s eyes shot up to look at us, the piercing green of her irises freezing us to the spot in that alarming effect she could have on people. “We need to leave.” She said quietly. “As soon as possible. The only way we’re going to survive is if we leave now.” Her eyes were sad, as if she would rather do anything else, but knew this was the only way.

  Cameron slowly nodded his head, and although Cassandra said nothing, I knew she agreed as well. I looked at the floor, studying the wood flooring they had worked so hard to create. Cassandra kicked a table leg in frustration. “We worked so hard...” Her teeth were clenched, and her hands were balled into fists. “We started from nothing out here.” She heaved a sigh and looked away.

  “We’ll just have to find another place,” Beatrix said sadly. The room was in a tense silence, every one of us fighting our own battles against the creators and the burning hatred that was tearing us apart.

  I looked around the room at each of them and the struggle that was seen clearly on each of their faces. I clenched my fists at my side, suddenly feeling strong. I would not let the creators beat me. Not again. “No,” I said. They all looked up at me, their eyes searching mine questioningly. “I’m tired of running,” I said evenly. “I’m tired of being afraid.” I said the words quietly but forcefully, and somehow I knew they all had understood. They all knew what it was like to run and hide, to be fearful, and to be feared.

  “I’m done with the creators,” I said slowly. I looked up to meet their eyes, pleading for them to agree. “Aren’t you?”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I will not run anymore. I will not hide anymore. Those words swirled through my head with a mixture of fear and power. I knew those thoughts were dangerous. I knew the safe way out would be to run as Beatrix had suggested. But I felt like that was the coward’s way of solving this problem. Running wouldn’t fix anything; it would still be there when we returned. I held frantically onto the strength I had had when I had first said those words; the strength that I knew I couldn’t go on without.

  “We’re going to fix them,” I had heard myself saying. “The creators are done.” I hadn’t expected the reactions they had given me. I had expected hesitance and fear, but instead I was met with victorious smiles and ideas. Everyone else was done, too. The creators had taken too much.

  * * * *

  I was sitting in the game room, along with at least a dozen other androids, around the long table where I had surprisingly found myself at the head. Frightened and worrisome talk went around like a swarm of bees buzzing in everyone’s ears. The creators were coming. And everyone knew it.

  I looked around at the faces of the people I had been friends with over the past few months. Although I had always seen the sorrow hidden beneath their smiling faces, I had never seen it as apparent as now.

  “So we’re going to fix the perfected,” Marian said. It wasn’t a question, just a statement thrown out there for feedback. Murmurs filled the room, but reluctant or excited, I couldn’t tell.

  I nodded. “We need to,” I said firmly. “We’re the only ones who can.”

  “Drew’s right,” Beatrix’s voice chimed in. “Think about it. There are the creators and their androids, the humans, and then us. Three different groups of people. The humans have no idea what’s going on or how to stop it, so that leaves us.”

  There was a tense silence while everyone seemed to digest the idea. “And how are we going to stop them?” a voice called. I recognized the girl to be Tina, an android who helped Cameron out in the medical department a lot.

  “We have Yvonne, and she knows how to fix the perfected,” I explained. “She can hack into their computer system and dismantle their programming.” I watched as the expressions around me turned to suspicion at the mention of Yvonne’s name. Mumbles ran through the group and people started shaking their heads.

  “Hey,” Cassandra called above the noise; her voice loud and demanding. “What other choice do we have?” She fixed everyone with a steely stare. “We’re running out of options. Either we let the creators come get us, we run away like cowards, or we use tools that we have to make this right.” Her outburst was met with silence. People were staring at their hands or at each other, trying to decide. Jessica looked over from beside me and smiled; her soft brown eyes slightly enhanced but still the same Jessica’s.

  “I say we go with Drew’s plan,” she stated, still smiling. “What’ve we got to lose?” Her tone was cheerful but still seemed to convey the message of how desperate we really were.

  “Vote,” Cassandra commanded, her piercing blue eyes seeming to sear through everyone in the room. “Drew’s plan?” She raised her arm and Jessica, Beatrix, Marian, and Cameron’s quickly followed. Slowly I watched as arm after arm was raised and suddenly the tension was gone, replaced by a humble acceptance of duty. Faces watched mine, a slight smile dancing in their features.

  “Drew’s plan it is then,”
Cassandra said with a nod. She turned to look at me, her eyebrows raised in expectance. “So what’s the first step to creating this wondrous idea?” she asked with a laughing smile.

  I shrugged, suddenly aware that every eye in the room was on me. I felt my face growing red from the attention and stares. “Well, we’ll need to make out details of what exactly we’ll be doing, and we’ll need a leader,” I added. Cassandra immediately came to my mind, with her strong voice and demanding presence, and I looked over at her. “Who should it be?” I asked, giving her a meaningful look.

  Cassandra’s eyes widened, and her eyebrows rose in shock, but then her expression softened into an amused grin. I saw Beatrix and some of the other androids exchange looks, and I watched them, puzzled. Cassandra laughed softly, as if finding me funny in some way. “You, Drew,” she said quietly. Her light blue eyes smiled into mine. “It’s always been you.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I was sitting with Yvonne in her cell, watching her dark eyes closely; watching as they stared back at me evenly. Yvonne never lost. Could I trust her? After all the times she’d betrayed me, time after time after time ... could I trust her again? Could I really put everyone’s lives in her hands and pray that Yvonne had changed? That Yvonne wasn’t that backstabbing android anymore, but the little girl I had grown up with?

  Can I trust you? I mouthed, staring at her.

  She grinned and shrugged, her eyes glinting. I held in an exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes. I glared at her. She held out her hands in a ‘what?’ gesture and mouthed back, Can you? In her eyes danced a smile; a playful one, full of fun and adventure. Yvonne was just playing with me. She always had been.

  I closed my eyes, prayed for the strength not to strangle Yvonne right on the spot, and reached into my pocket to pull out three pieces of notebook paper. Yvonne watched them hungrily as I handed her the explanation of our plan. Not the whole plan, but the start.