Specials u-3

by Скотт Вестерфельд

  She was twirling by her wrists, the landscape whirling around and around, her wild momentum sending the whole city spinning. With every rotation her agony grew, until finally Tally slowed to a halt, the force of her fall expended, the bracelets lowering her slowly and painfully to the ground.

  Her feet were unsteady underneath her, the grass mockingly soft. A few trees stood close by, and she heard the sounds of a stream. Her arms dropped to her sides, hanging useless and burning with pain.

  "Tally?" Fausto's voice came, close in her ears. "Are you okay?"

  "What do you think?" she hissed at him, then turned her skintenna off. That's how the Smokies had known where she was, of course. With Fausto on their side, they could have been tracking her since the first moment she'd arrived in town…

  Which meant they also would have spotted Shay. Had they gotten her already? Tally hadn't seen her among the pursuers…

  She took a few more steps, every movement sending waves of agony through her injured shoulders. Tally wondered if her ceramic bones had been shattered, the monofilament muscles damaged beyond repair.

  She gritted her teeth, straining to lift one hand. The simple motion hurt so much that Tally gasped aloud, and when she closed her fingers the grip felt pathetically weak. But at least her body was still responding to her will.

  This was no time to congratulate herself for making a fist, though. The Smokies would be here soon, and if any of them had the guts to jump off the cliff on a hoverboard, she didn't have much time.

  Tally ran toward the nearby trees, every step sending a jolt of pain through her. In the dark foliage, she set her sneak suit to camouflage mode. Even the rippling of its scales across her wrists and shoulders felt like fire.

  The buzz of repair nanos had started up, a tingling all down her arms, but as bad as her injuries were, they would take hours to heal. She reached up, both arms screaming in pain, to pull the sneak-suit hood over her head. She almost blacked out, but again Tally's special brain kept her conscious.

  Panting, she stumbled toward a tree whose lowest branches were close to the ground. She jumped up, landing unsteadily on one foot, and leaned against the trunk, gasping for breath. After a long moment she started the arduous process of climbing higher without using her hands, stepping from one branch to the next, grippy-soled shoes scrabbling to stay on.

  It was slow and painful going, her teeth gritted and heart racing. But Tally somehow managed to push herself upward slowly. One meter higher, then another…

  Her eyes caught a flicker of infrared through the leaves, and she froze.

  A hoverboard was moving silently past, exactly at her eye level. She could see the glowing rider's head swivel from side to side, listening for any sound among the treetops.

  Tally's breath slowed, and she allowed herself a grim smile. The Smokies had expected Fausto, their tamed Special, to bag her for them—they hadn't even bothered with sneak suits. This time around, she was the invisible one.

  Of course, the fact that the invisible one couldn't lift her arms kind of evened things out.

  Finally the pain had been replaced by the buzz of nanos gathering in her shoulders, starting on their repairs and squirting anesthetic around. As long as she didn't move too much, the little machines would keep the agony down to a dull ache.

  In the distance, Tally heard other searchers bashing at the leaves, thinking they could flush her out like a flock of birds. But the closest Smokey was hunting quietly, listening and watching. The rider stood in profile, head still moving slowly from side to side, scanning the trees. Its silhouette revealed infrared glasses.

  Tally smiled to herself. Night vision wasn't going to work any better than banging at the trees. But then the figure froze, staring right at her. The hoverboard slid to a halt.

  Barely moving her head, Tally glanced down at herself. What was showing?

  Then she saw it. After all the days she'd lived in the sneak suit, all the thrills and spills she'd put it through…finally, that one last leap from the Overlook had done it in.

  On her right shoulder, the seam had split. It glowed almost white in infrared, heat from her metabolism gushing out like sunlight.

  The figure slid closer through the air, slow and cautious.

  "Hey," she called nervously. "I think I've got something here."

  "What is it?" came the answer.

  Tally recognized the answering voice. David, she thought, a little shiver going through her. So close to him, and Tally could hardly make a fist.

  The Smokey girl paused, still staring right at Tally. "There's a hot spot in this tree. Baseball-size."

  Laughter came from David's way, and someone else shouted, "Probably just a squirrel."

  "Way too hot for a squirrel. Unless it's on fire."

  Tally waited, squeezing her eyes closed and willing her body to slow down, to stop generating so much energy. But the Smokey girl had got it right: Between the racing engine of her heart and the nanos busily repairing her shoulders, Tally felt like she was on fire.

  She tried to move her left hand up to cover the rip, but her muscles would no longer respond. All she could do was stand there and try not to move.

  More glowing figures glided her way.

  "David!" someone else called from the distance. "They're coming!"

  He swore, spinning his hoverboard in midair. "They won't be happy with us. Come on, let's get out of here!"

  The girl who'd spotted her let out a frustrated snort, then banked her board and shot away after him. The other Smokies trailed behind the two, flitting through the leafy treetops and into the distance.

  Who's coming? Tally wondered. Why had they just left her here? Who were the Smokies afraid of in Diego?

  Then the sound of running feet came through the forest, and Tally saw flashes of bright yellow on the ground. She'd seen that exact color in the uniforms of safety workers and wardens earlier today—yellow with bold black stripes, like littlies costumed as bumblebees.

  She remembered what Fausto had said, about how the Diego authorities were still in charge, and smiled. They might tolerate the Smokies' presence here, but the wardens probably didn't appreciate kidnapping attempts at parties.

  Tally pressed herself harder against the tree trunk, feeling the tear in her sneak suit like a bleeding wound. If they had night vision, they'd spot her just as the Smokies had. Once more, Tally tried to lift her left hand to cover the open seam…

  A startling moment of agony sent a wave of dizziness through her, and Tally heard herself utter a racking gasp of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry out again.

  Suddenly, the world was listing to one side. Tally opened her eyes, realizing too late that one foot had slipped from its branch. Instinctively her hands scrambled for a hold, but the attempt only sent fresh agony through her. And then she was tipping over, out of control and crashing through the tree, injuries wailing as she seemed to hit every branch on the way down.

  She landed with a grunt, arms and legs splayed like a dummy thrown to the ground.

  A circle of yellow-suited wardens quickly formed around her.

  "Don't move!" one said gruffly.

  Tally looked up and groaned with frustration. The wardens were unarmed, average middle pretties, nervous as a gaggle of cats surrounding a rabid Doberman. Uninjured, she could have laughed in their faces, danced among them, flicking them over like dominoes.

  But as things were, the wardens construed her immobility as surrender.

  Violations Of Morphology

  She woke up in a padded cell.

  The place smelled exactly like the big hospital at home: the chemical tang of disinfectant, the unpleasant scent of too many humans who'd been washed by robots instead of taking showers. And somewhere out of sight, Tally detected bedpans quietly stewing.

  But most hospital rooms didn't have padded walls, and they weren't missing a door. Probably that was hidden under the padding somewhere, seamlessly fitted. Soft light in mixed pastel color
s, probably meant to be soothing, filtered down from filaments sprinkled across the high ceiling.

  Tally sat up and flexed her arms, rubbing her shoulders. The muscles were stiff and achy, but their usual strength had returned. Whatever the wardens had used to knock her out had kept her unconscious for some time. Shay had broken Tally's hand in training once to demonstrate how her self-repair worked, and it had taken hours to feel right again.

  Tally kicked the bedcovers off with her feet, then looked down at herself and muttered, "You've got to be kidding."

  They'd replaced her sneak suit with a thin, disposable nightgown covered with pink flowers.

  Tally got up and tore it off, crumpling the garment into a ball. Dropping it to the floor, she kicked it under the bed. Better to be naked than look ridiculous.

  Actually, it felt heavenly to be out of the sneak suit at last. The scales might transport sweat and dead skin cells to its surface, but nothing beat taking a real shower now and then. Tally rubbed at her skin, wondering if she could get one in this place.

  "Hello?" she said to the room.

  When no answer came, she peered more closely at the wall. The fabric of the padding glittered with a hexagonal pattern of micro-lenses, thousands of tiny cameras woven into it. The doctors could watch anything she did from any angle.

  "Come on, guys, I know you can hear me," Tally said aloud, then made a fist and punched the wall as hard as she could.

  "Ouch." She swore a few times, waving her hand in the air. The padding had helped a little, but the wall behind it was made of something harder than wood or stone—solid construction ceramic, probably. Tally wasn't going to break out of here bare-handed.

  She returned to the bed and sat down, rubbing her fingers and letting out a sigh.

  "Please be careful, young lady," a voice said. "You'll hurt yourself."

  Tally glanced at her hand. The knuckles weren't even red. "Just wanted to get your attention."

  "Attention? Hmm. Is that what this is all about?"

  Tally groaned. If anything was more annoying than being sealed up in a wacko chamber, it was being talked to like a littlie who'd been caught chucking a stink bomb. The voice sounded deep and calming and generic, like some therapy drone. She imagined a committee of doctors behind the wall, typing in answers for the soothing computer voice to speak.

  "Actually, this is about my room not having a door," she said. "Did I break a law or something?"

  "You are being held under controlled observation, as a possible danger to yourself and others."

  Tally rolled her eyes. When she got out of here, she was going to be a lot more than a possible danger. But she only said, "Who, me?"

  "You jumped off the Overlook Cliff with inadequate equipment, for starters."

  Tally's mouth dropped open. "You're saying that was my fault? I was just talking to an old friend of mine, and suddenly all these random nutcases with bows and arrows started shooting at me. What was I supposed to do? Stand around and get kidnapped?"

  The voice paused. "We are reviewing video of the incident. We admit, however, that there are certain immigrant elements here in Diego who can be difficult. We apologize. They've never behaved this badly before. Rest assured that mediation is taking place."

  "Mediation? Like, you're talking to them about it? Why don't you lock a few of them up, instead of me? After all, I'm the victim here."

  There was another pause. "That remains to be determined. May I ask your name, city of origin, and exactly how you know this 'old friend' of yours?"

  Tally felt the bedcovers between her fingers. Like the wall padding, they were woven through with microsensors, greedy little machines to measure her heart rate, sweat, and galvanic skin response. She took a few slow breaths, getting her anger under control. If she stayed focused, they could polygraph her all day without detecting a flicker of a lie.

  "My name's Tally," she said carefully. "I ran away from up north. I heard you guys were nice to runaways."

  "We welcome immigrants. Under the New System, we allow anyone to apply for Diego citizenship."

  "'The New System'? Is that what you call this?" Tally rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well the New System sucks if you lock people up just for running away from psychos. Did I mention the bows and arrows?"

  "Rest assured, you are not under observation because of any of your actions, Tally. We're more concerned with certain morphological violations."

  Despite her focus, a nervous flicker ran down Tally's spine. "My what?"

  "Tally, your body has been constructed around a reinforced ceramic skeleton. Your fingernails and teeth have been weaponized, your muscles and reflex centers significantly augmented."

  With a sickening feeling, Tally realized what the wardens had done. Thinking she was seriously hurt, they'd brought her to the hospital for deep scanning, and what the doctors had found had made the authorities very nervous.

  "I'm not sure what you're talking about," she said, trying to sound innocent.

  "There are also certain structures in your higher cortex, apparently artificial, which seemed designed to change your behavior. Tally, do you ever suffer from sudden flashes of anger or euphoria, countersocial impulses, or feelings of superiority?"

  Tally took another deep breath, fighting to remain calm. "What I'm suffering from is being locked up," she said in a slow, deliberate voice.

  "Why do you have scars on your arms, Tally? Did someone do that to you?"

  "What, these?" She laughed, running her fingers down the row of cutting scars. "Where I come from, they're just a fashion statement!"

  "Tally, you may not be aware of what has been done to your mind. It may seem natural for you to cut yourself."

  "But they're just…" Tally groaned and shook her head. "After all the crazy surgery I've seen around here, you're worried about a few scars?"

  "We're only worried about what they indicate regarding your mental balance."

  "Don't talk to me about mental balance," Tally growled, deciding to give up on acting calm. "I'm not the one who locks people up!"

  "Do you understand the political disputes between your city and ours, Tally?"

  "Political disputes?" she asked. "What does that have to do with me?"

  "Your city has a long history of dangerous surgical practices, Tally. That history, and Diego's policy on runaways, have often been a source of diplomatic conflict. The advent of the New System has only made things worse."

  Tally snorted. "So you're locking me up because of where I come from! Have you guys gone totally Rusty?"

  There was a long pause after that. Tally imagined the doctors arguing over what to type into their voice software. "Why are you torturing me?" she shouted, trying to sound like a harmless, whining pretty. "Let me see your faces! "

  She curled up on the bed and made sobbing noises, but readied herself to leap in any direction. These dimwits probably didn't realized that her arms had completely fixed themselves while she was asleep. All she needed was one door open half a centimeter and she would be out of this hospital in a heartbeat, naked or not. After another moment's silence, the voice returned. "I'm afraid, Tally, that you cannot be allowed to go free. Because of your body modifications, you meet our criteria for a dangerous weapon. And dangerous weapons are illegal in Diego."

  Tally stopped her crying act, her jaw dropping open. "You mean, I'm illegal!" she cried. "How can a person be illegal?"

  "You are not accused of any crime, Tally. We believe the authorities of your city are responsible. But before you leave this hospital, your morphological violations must be corrected."

  "Forget it! You're not touching me!" The voice didn't react to her anger, just droned on soothingly. "Tally, your city has often meddled in the affairs of other cities, especially on the issue of runaways. We believe that you were unknowingly altered and sent here to create instability among our immigrant population."

  They thought she was a dupe, not even a conscious agent of Special Circumstances. Of course, they had n
o idea how complicated the truth really was.

  "Then let me go home," she said softly, trying to turn her frustration into tears. "I'll leave, I promise. Just let me go." She squeezed her teeth down harder on her lower lip. Her eyes burned, but as always, no tears came.

  "We cannot allow you to go free in your current morphological configuration. You're simply too dangerous, Tally."

  You have no idea, she thought.

  "You're free to leave Diego if you want," the voice continued, "but not until we make some physical adjustments."

  "No." A chill washed over her. They couldn't.

  "We cannot legally release you without disarming you."

  "But you can't operate on me if I don't want you to." She imagined herself weak again, pathetic and puny and average. "What about…informed consent?"

  "If you prefer, we will make no experimental attempts to change your altered brain chemistry. With counseling, you may learn to control your behavior. But your dangerous body modifications will be corrected using proven surgical techniques. Informed consent is not required."

  Tally opened her mouth again, but nothing came out. They wanted to make her average again without even fixing her brain? What sort of nightmare logic was that?

  The four impregnable walls around her seemed suddenly suffocating, their glittering eyes hungry and mocking. Tally imagined cold metal instruments reaching into her and tearing out everything special from inside.

  For those few moments kissing Zane, she'd imagined that she wanted to be normal. But now that someone was threatening to grind her down to averageness, she couldn't stand the thought.

  She wanted to be able to look at Zane without disgust, to touch him, kiss him. But not if it meant being changed against her will again…

  "Just let me go," she whispered.

  "I'm afraid we can't, Tally. But when we're done, you'll be as beautiful and healthy as everyone else. Think of it, here in Diego you can look any way you want."