by J. M. Page
“Leave us, please,” the King said to the doctor, his voice pure unquestionable authority.
The door closed behind the medic and Ben’s father approached his bedside, never quite looking at his son.
“You’re not to leave this room until I’m satisfied that you’ve made a full recovery,” he said.
Ben grit his teeth together. “I’m fine.”
Then his father looked at him, fire burning in his golden eyes. “You’ve embarrassed us. All of us. You directly disobeyed the Grounding, stole from law enforcement and nearly got yourself killed for a bar bet.” There was no question in the King’s voice. He already knew all of this to be fact.
“It’s a wonder you made it back alive at all, but I can’t have you sullying the name of the crown with things so… tumultuous as they are. You’re to stay here until you’ve recovered. For your health, Bennett.”
Ben suppressed a growl, his hands clenching the sides of the bed with white knuckles.
“Don’t try to say it’s for my health. You want to keep me locked up so I don’t do any more damage to your reputation. Just say it like it is, Father, I’m not a child anymore.”
The King’s face darkened with anger. “You could’ve fooled me with that stunt of yours. How am I ever going to entrust the ruling of Terranys to you? You can’t even abide by the simplest decrees.”
“Because your decree is inane and short-sighted. You want to talk about damage to the Crown’s reputation, you should look more closely at this grounding and its effect on our citizens.” Like Alex… Ben wondered what happened to his suit, if the teranite was still in his pockets.
He knew the moment the words were past his lips that he’d gone too far. Pushed his luck further than he should’ve. His father’s face smoothed out, not a wrinkle or crease to belie the fuming rage simmering beneath. With the cool detachment he’d come to be known for, the King said “I’m sorry you feel that way. Get well soon, son.” He turned without looking at Ben, and left the room, saying something under his breath to the medic that he passed on his way out.
The medic came back in with a forced smile and a little tin full of pills.
“Take these,” he said, thrusting the tin and another water at Ben.
Ben eyed the pills with suspicion, wondering if they’d been prescribed to him before, or after, the chat with his father.
“What are they for?” he asked.
The medic shrugged. “Our usual regimen for exposure. The best treatment is rest. This will help you relax.”
Ben rolled the tablets in his hand with a nod. He found it suspicious that they had a ‘usual regimen’ for exposure when the medic mentioned they hadn’t had a case in a century.
“There’s something else that may help me relax,” he said. “My dog, Bora? She does a good job of keeping an eye on me.” He popped the pills in his mouth and lifted the water to his lips.
The medic smiled and nodded, turning toward the door. “Sure thing, I’ll see what we can do.”
Ben waited for the medic to leave before he spit the pills back out, tossing them behind the bed where they wouldn’t be found until he was long gone.
And then he waited.
Chapter Five
Celine
She stalked through the tunnels, still swiping at hot angry tears, fighting the baffling reality that everything she cared about was gone. Rufus seemed to sense her simmering anger and nuzzled against her neck.
“I’m sorry Celine. I didn’t mean for that to happen…”
Celine ground her molars together and gave him a curt nod. “I know you didn’t. I’m not angry at you.” After all, Rufus was just an AI. One that she programmed. Any faults in his communication skills were faults that she let slide. No, she wasn’t angry at Rufus at all. Everything else – her father, old prejudices, the way Ben flinched at the sight of her arm, being on this worthless planet – she was mad at plenty of things, but not Rufus.
“M-m-maybe he’s right though. That city is dangerous. You… you should stay with your own kind… I mean, for your safety.”
Celine stopped in her tracks and turned to lower a definitive glare at the shivering bot. “I would rather die or be murdered for following my dreams than live out a perfectly safe life in this prison. Life isn’t worth living if you aren’t, well… living.”
Rufus stuttered, but was interrupted.
“A fine sentiment, my dear,” a raspy voice said from the shadows.
“Who said that?” Celine called out, her voice echoing off the cave walls.
There was a clicking sound, like someone clucking their tongue, if their tongue was dense and protected by a hard carapace.
The hairs on Celine’s arm stood at attention and she squinted into the darkness.
“A friend,” the feminine voice said.
“What kind of friend hides in the shadows?” An unconscious alarm tip-toed up her spine and Celine chose to dismiss it, curiosity and anger getting the best of her.
She was somewhat aware of Rufus whimpering on her shoulder, though he didn’t occupy any of her immediate attention as the clicking noise came again.
“Someone who has been hurt more than you, child, and has learned her lesson about trusting too easily.”
Celine frowned and tried to place the voice, both raspy and soft all at once, not unlike the powdery dust outside. There was no doubt in Celine’s mind that this was someone to be wary of, regardless of her sweet words.
“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m upset?” Celine knew her eyes must be red and puffy from tears, her face splotchy and nose running. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and cry herself to sleep or run away forever and never look back. She knew which one sounded more appealing, and which one sounded more likely. Unfortunately, those weren’t the same.
“I only wish to help you, dear one. I can see you’re hurting and maybe I have the answer to your problems.” More clicking accompanied the words.
Celine inched forward her neck outstretched as if that would help her see or hear more clearly. Rufus whined, high-pitched and grating, and Celine shushed him.
“Please don’t go over there,” he whimpered.
“Don’t make me disable your battery,” she said, all patience gone for those who stood in her way.
He whined again but was otherwise quiet as Celine crept nearer to the voice.
“How can you help me?” Celine didn’t know why she felt the need to whisper. No one ever came to this part of the tunnels, buried deep in the planet’s crust.
“Ah,” she said with a click-clack sound. “It would be easier to explain somewhere… more private.”
Celine looked up and down the deserted corridor and narrowed her eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure this is private enough,” she said.
There was a flurry of clicks that Celine thought might be angry and the voice that answered was tight, strained. “It is not. If you want my assistance, you’ll have to come with me to my home.”
Celine took a step backwards and chewed on the thought for a moment. She had no idea who this person was – or if it was even a person – and no one knew where she’d gone. No one would think twice if she disappeared never to return again. No one would think to look for her if this person had less virtuous intentions than she said.
Still, she didn’t have much of a choice. If this person wanted to do her harm, there was nothing stopping them from doing it the moment she rejected the offer. On the other hand, if they could help… Well, what did she really have to lose?
In a day full of bad decisions, Celine made what she thought might be the worst of them all.
“Okay. Lead the way.”
Down long winding tunnels, past many empty and dark caverns, Celine followed the clicking sound. With every turn, her breath shortened, her pulse quickened, and Rufus’s whining intensified.
“We should just go back,” he hissed into her ear. He was no better equipped to see in the da
rk than she was — an oversight on her part, now that Celine thought about it.
“Too late for that,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t want her ‘friend’ to hear their conversation. She still wasn’t sure how trustworthy the friend was and if they heard her having second-thoughts, that could spell disaster.
“Just trust me, okay?”
Rufus whimpered, but slowly nodded and dove into the fabric covering her shoulder. She patted him absently, never taking her eyes off the dark area the clicking emanated from. What kept this person in the shadows? Some deformity?
The thought made Celine frown. Everyone in the Wastelands was born with some anomaly. It was how they got their modified parts — what made them Modders. It had started in the old days, exposure to the foreign planet and working in the dust caused… problems with babies.
But they’d adapted. They figured out how to meld machinery and flesh to become whole again. Better even.
Celine flexed her robotic hand, making a fist in one hand as easily as she could in the other. Dad upgraded it every so often when she was growing up, and there was that one summer when it seemed he was lengthening it every other day to keep up with her growth spurt.
But it was perfect, a part of her, seamlessly as any other part.
Everyone had a story like hers, though the anatomy differed. Celine wondered what could’ve happened to someone to cause them to live so far outside of society, small and remote a society it may be. It wasn’t in their nature to disparage someone for being different; it was in their differences that they formed community.
Unless that difference was being human, Celine scoffed, a wave of heat flushing her veins at the thought.
Could that be it? Was there another human down here? Was that how she was going to help Celine get into the city?
It was the only thing that made sense, really, and it happened to give Celine an overwhelming sense of relief.
“Here we are,” the soft voice said, turning a corner.
Celine followed into pitch black, a prickle of anxiety creeping up the back of her neck again.
She squinted at the faintest red glow, trying to spot the source, but soon, the whole cavern glowed a dim red. Celine heard a weak burbling, bubbling, but she never managed to look around for the source.
Because now, in the soothing red glow, she saw her so-called friend. It was not a human.
She gasped, taking a step backwards, but the figure didn’t move.
“Please don’t be alarmed,” the stranger said, “I know my appearance is unsettling but I mean you no harm.”
Celine watched the woman’s — if woman was even the right term — mouth move, a facial structure that resembled her own, but with two insectoid mandibles protruding from her cheekbones. They clicked together when she spoke. Her eyes were close-set and solid black, shiny and reflective even in the muted light.
“I am known as Scorpia,” she said, taking a step forward. She was hunched slightly and Celine noticed it was to counter-balance a curved segmented tail that protruded from the thin fabric wrapped around Scorpia’s lean frame. The end of her tail was weaponized with a razor sharp-looking point.
“Who else knows you’re down here?” Celine asked, still in awe of this new discovery.
“Not many anymore, I suppose. I was here when the very first ships landed with humans. Your kind are short-lived,” she said, turning her back. Celine heard her moving things around, but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the deadly point of Scorpia’s tail.
“But, that would have to be… thousands of years.”
Scorpia turned, her head canted to one side, those beady black eyes unblinking. “Yes?” She sounded confused.
Celine shook her head, deciding it wasn’t worth the explanation.
Scorpia turned her back again, focused on whatever work she was doing.
“Why do you hide down here?” Celine asked.
The first answer was a flurry of clicks. “I’m not hiding. This is my home. All of these tunnels were carved by me and those that came before me. I just happen to be benevolent enough to let you occupy my entryway.”
Celine frowned, not sure what to make of that. “Thanks,” she muttered.
An extended silence stretched between them and Celine finally paid attention to her surroundings. The red glow and the bubbling, it was a series of tanks covering every wall of the cavern. The liquid in the tanks was some semi-opaque gel, and deep in the glowing depths, shadows bobbed.
“What is all of this?” Celine asked, reaching to dip her finger in the strange viscous liquid.
“Don’t touch that,” Scorpia’s tail harmlessly swatted Celine’s hand away. Scorpia never turned away from her workbench, covered with vials and beakers.
“As you’ve said, I have lived a very long life. To keep myself occupied I became a scientist of sorts… a biologist, if you will. Throughout the years, there has been the occasional person that can benefit from my research and I’ve helped many of your kind back into the city.”
Celine narrowed her eyes, not sure she really followed everything going on.
“And your research is…?”
Scorpia flipped a switch nearby and a soft hum of electricity buzzed all around them. The charge seemed to affect the liquid in the tanks, turning it clear.
And then it made sense to Celine. In every tank, at different stages of growth and development, there were human parts. Hands, arms, legs, feet. One tank held eyeballs in a spectrum of colors. Another had beating hearts.
Celine wasn’t sure whether to feel awed or sick.
“You…”
“I grow these, yes,” Scorpia said, as if she were talking about an herb garden. “They’re not harvested, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re built one cell at a time. It’s quite tedious even for the smallest bits.”
“I’m sure,” Celine said, gawking at one tank after the next. She’d built a lot of things in her life. Things that she took pride in, like Rufus. But even Rufus, with all his range of emotion and problem-solving skills, was only an imitation of life.
Scorpia… She’d built actual living tissue the way Celine built robots. It was on another level, and from one tinkerer to the next, Celine had to admit she was blown away. Impressed didn’t even begin to describe the sheer wonder she felt in that moment.
Scorpia joined Celine in her circuit around the cavern, clicking proudly every now and then at Celine’s open-mouthed surprise.
“I can’t believe… I mean, I didn’t even think you could… Just, wow,” Celine stammered, moving from one to the next.
“It’s this one I think you’ll be interested in,” Scorpia said, tapping one of the larger tanks mounted to the wall.
Floating in that thick jelly, palm forward and elbow crooked in a wave, was an arm that looked like it was made for Celine.
While it should’ve been gruesome, it was serene. Comforting even.
“You want into the city, yes?” Scorpia asked, her clicking nearly inaudible.
Celine nodded, eyes wide with wonder as her metal hand spread over the glass. “More than anything.”
“This is the way,” Scorpia said.
Celine found herself agreeing without pause, but stopped herself before the words sprang from her lips.
“Why? Why would you help me? What are you getting out of it?” She snatched her hand away from the tank, wondering what had put her in such a trance.
It was hard to tell with her shiny black eyes, but Celine thought Scorpia looked offended.
“I think I’ve already mentioned my benevolence,” she said, waving an arm dismissively. “As for what I get out of it… I expect an even trade. My arm,” she gestured toward the tank, “for yours. Simple.”
A frown tugged at Celine’s mouth and she flexed her arm, watching the joints, the struts, the tubing and connections all lovingly crafted. It was a part of her. Could she really get rid of it?
“Celine,” Rufus could keep quiet no longer. �
��You can’t get rid of your arm! It’s what makes you… you! It made me! What if I malfunction?” He shuddered and Celine faltered. Maybe this was too high a price, even for her.
“And you know how upset your father would be. Your arm is his greatest creation and—”
At mention of her father, Celine’s vision went red, and not just from the womb-like glow of Scorpia’s laboratory. He would be upset, but why should that matter? He had no care for the things she treasured. He thought he could control her by destroying her dreams, but there was more than one way to achieve her goals.
It might be scary to give up a part of herself, she reasoned, but all big decisions were a little scary. And no one ever achieved their dreams without making big decisions. Her human hand slipped into her pocket and closed around Ben’s coin, squeezing it.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she heard herself say. So what if her father didn’t approve? If she had her way, Celine would be halfway to the stars before he knew anything.
Scorpia grinned and click-clacked and flipped the switch, turning the incubating gel opaque again.
“Now, a little word of warning,” she said. “This is permanent and these limbs occasionally have some… quirks. They just have to be broken in a little.”
Celine shook her head. “I don’t care, just do it. I’m tired of being trapped in these tunnels and being a prisoner of my father.”
Scorpia set to work quickly, laying Celine on a sterile table before administering some kind of medicine that kept her from feeling any pain. Rufus wouldn’t stop muttering protests and finally Celine had to put him into sleep mode.
The red glow was so relaxing and the sporadic bubbling put her into a trance-like state as Scorpia worked.
Soon, she would be human. She’d be able to go to the human city, to witness it in all its splendor. The entire universe would be spread at her fingertips. Her ten fleshy fingertips.
Her eyes drifted closed as she pieced together images she’d gathered of stars, trying to imagine the great expanse of sky dotted with light instead of dust clouds.
She would see those stars. And maybe, if she was lucky, she’d see Ben again and address that peculiar buzzing in her chest that came with proximity to him.
