Fragments of Light

by Beth Hodgson

  Damaris’s face melted into a look of disdain. “I need him sooner than that. Much sooner,” he said sharply.

  “Sooner? Y-your Majesty…” Telly fumbled with her words. “We only resurrected him just over thirteen hours ago. There are several tests that still need to be conducted—”

  “I don’t care about those tests,” the King snapped. “I need him as soon as possible. Now, what are you going to do about that?”

  Telly withheld a flinch from his harsh words, pausing. Did he want to start the extraction process of Drew’s blood already?

  Disheartened, Telly murmured, “I can have him ready in five days. However, if Your Majesty wishes, we do have other cyborgs in this lab that are ready for deployment.”

  “Miss Hearly, I do not care for any of the other cyborgs. I want this one. Tell me, it is within this cyborg’s capabilities to track the original blood donor, is it not?”

  “Correct, Your Highness. All of the cyborgs, including Drew, appear to be drawn to the original donor’s blood—it acts like some type of magnet.”

  “Good.” He turned to her, finally acknowledging her presence. “Then this reaffirms my decision. I have found what I need right here: one to overpower the others.” Damaris cracked a wicked smile, then narrowed his eyes. “I am glad this little visit wasn’t a waste of my time.”

  “Your Majesty.” Telly bowed with a bit more grace but still came off rather clumsy.

  “Five days. I must have him at my command in five days. After that, I want him as a secondary donor. Once-a-week extraction.”

  Damaris turned away, leaving Telly at a loss of words. Once a week? That was not viable for any human. She was about to open her mouth in protest but hesitated. Who was she to argue with the King?

  No, she had to defend Drew, no matter how inhuman he was now.

  Just as she was about to speak up, Damaris slipped out of sight. Telly heard the directors and the King walking away in conversation, the group’s footsteps fading away, leaving her alone in the room with Drew.

  “I am sorry, Drew. So sorry,” she said softly, almost as if talking to herself.

  Drew cocked his head, his eye focusing on her, glowing orange.

  Shuddering, Telly looked up at Drew guiltily, feeling foolish. “I never thought this would happen. Had I known, I never would have signed the corporation’s contract,” she said, her voice full of sadness. “Never.”

  Drew didn’t flinch. He remained inanimate, listening to her.

  “And now I don’t know what I am going to do… I just don’t know.” Telly breathed out heavily, glancing at him. “I don’t know if there is anything I can do.”

  Her heart hurt. Why now? Drew had just come back to life, and now he would be taken away from her once again. And the original donor—Drew was going to track this person? If that was the case, the original donor must have similar powers as Drew, which in turn could get extremely dangerous for him. Drew shouldn’t be out on some kind of mission for the King. What Drew needed was to be rehabilitated one day at a time, giving him the time he needed to come to terms with his self-awareness.

  Telly gave Drew one last look, then lowered her eyes. “You might want to lie down for a bit. You are going to need all the energy you can get.”

  Drew sparked orange energy in quick, sporadic flashes, complying with her instruction, lying down on his platform.

  I’ll think of something, Drew, I promise…Telly thought, giving him a sad smile before turning away. I promise you.

  Emerging from Drew’s room, Telly saw her lab alive, everyone at work. Two of her team members were working on what remained of Drew’s missing bionics, ones that had not been needed for his boot-up. Others on her team were plugging away at code, monitoring Drew and the other cyborgs on their unit. Telly assumed they’d overheard the King demand Drew within five days and were wasting no time once the entourage left.

  Every scientist was crunching toward the King’s deadline for the dispatch of the cyborg army.

  All except her. All Telly could do was remain motionless in the middle of the lively room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GREEN

  The breakfast would have been considered subpar by palace standards, but Emerald thought it was simply delightful. A bit of eggs, bacon, and sausage were all slopped together, held together by a large flour wrap, doused with a tangy red sauce. The grease from the meat soaked through the wrap, causing it to rip in her hands and the contents to spill all over her serving basket. But she didn’t care. She’d never even heard of a “burrito” before, and it was the first time she had ever eaten a meal without silverware. The thought made her spirits rise with an odd sort of naughty delight.

  Kyle kept staring at her, giving her a strange look every so often as she ate her burrito. “You’re eating it all wrong,” he pointed out. He took the remains of her breakfast, then rerolled the burrito wrap, tucking in the bottom, then handed it back to her. “There, eat it like that.”

  Emerald looked at him teasingly. “I would have never thought there was a right way to eat finger foods…”

  “You should try this hot sauce,” he said, sliding over a bottle. “That shit burns.”

  “And tell me why I would want that? It sounds horrible.” Emerald eyed the bottle’s wrapper, decorated with a skull. It was clearly something that she wouldn’t want to try.

  “Because it cleans out your sinuses. It helps after a night of drinking,” Kyle stated. “I know for me, I get all gunked up and need to get that crap out of my nose and throat.”

  Emerald stared at him, her face twisted in disgust. “That sounds… lovely,” she remarked. She looked down at her food, then pushed the rest of her meal aside.

  Kyle noticed her reaction and gave no sympathy. “Your appetite ruined?”

  “Quite so,” Emerald said sickly.

  Kyle continued to pour on hot sauce, then proceeded to devour his burrito. Emerald studied the way he ate, how he cradled the grease-soaked wrap with his hands, the oil running over his polished silver rings. She would never have suspected that he would be so delicate when it came to holding his food and had guessed he would be somewhat of a sloppy eater, considering how unrefined he was.

  Kyle caught her looking at him as he took another bite, his face curious. Embarrassed that she’d been caught staring at him, her cheeks burned, and she took a sip of her coffee to defuse the awkward situation.

  After he finished his burrito, Kyle lit a cigarette, the smell of smoke permeating within their booth. The soft gray wispy cloud toyed around them gently, dulling the colors of the restaurant, which was decorated in whites, oranges, and yellows.

  After he puffed a few times, he said, “I have to go practice with the band later this afternoon. You should come with me.”

  “Sure. I would like that,” Emerald said. A rush of excitement came over her. More chances to see the city and to experience Arcadia. “When is your next show?”

  “Tomorrow evening. I got to pull my shit together for a new song that we’ve been rehearsing. I pretty much have it, but the other guys seem to be jacking off.”

  Almost spitting out her coffee at those words, Emerald pressed her lips together, hovering over her cup in case she couldn’t keep it in. Kyle watched her struggle with a look of amusement, flicking the ash of his cigarette in the ashtray. Swallowing hard, Emerald raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “What? That they’re jacking off?”

  “Yes,” Emerald whispered, lowering her head into his. “You didn’t have to repeat that.”

  “It’s an expression. Don’t people have slang in the upper levels?”

  “No. We say precisely what we mean.”

  “I find that hard to believe. I am sure the guys are simply modest around the women, holding back their real language in front of the ladies.”

  “No one from the upper levels would ever dare speak like how you just did, ever. I can attest to that fact.”

  “Not l
ikely. The guys are just fooling you. Believe me, if you weren’t around, they’d say much more interesting things about you and your manners,” Kyle teased.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Well, think what you like, Em. Stick your head back in the sand and pretend it doesn’t happen. But I’m telling you, all guys are like that. The more you realize that is the truth, the longer you’ll survive in life. Especially in the lower levels.” He finished up his cigarette, then took a drink of his coffee. Black, without any sugar or cream. “And, if you are in any way right, it sounds completely boring if people actually talked and acted that way. I mean, what fun would anyone really have being like that?”

  Staring into her cup, Emerald watched the cream in her coffee swirl gently, still in motion from her last sip. Did Derek ever talk like that? She doubted it. Kyle was just different. And of course he thought that. Everyone else around him talked like that, most likely. People were crass within the underbelly of the city. Derek was refined and above all that.

  Settling the matter in her mind, Emerald took another sip, confident that Derek had never uttered any sort of obscenities about women, especially about her.

  “How far away is your practice? Will it take long to get there?” Emerald asked abruptly. She no longer wanted to think about what Kyle had said.

  “Depends on how shitty the traffic is. Without traffic, it will take us about thirty minutes. There shouldn’t be any at the time we are taking off. Hopefully.”

  “Are we riding public transport?”

  “Are you kidding? That would be the last resort. Even I wouldn’t consider taking that piece of shit unless I had a death wish. Only junkies ride that. The only transportation I would ever consider besides my motorcycle, and the band’s ground transport, would be a cab. And transport cabs are expensive as hell.”

  “Oh,” Emerald said. “I see.” She was nervous about riding the motorcycle again. It scared her silly.

  “What noble house did you say you came from?” Kyle asked.

  “What?” Emerald wondered, confused. She didn’t recall her slipping in her conversation about where she’d come from. She glanced at his direction; his face held steady. Aware of his ruse, she narrowed her eyes.

  “Nice try,” she hinted coolly, eyeing him.

  “Damn,” he uttered, relaxing his face. “You catch on quick.” Flattered at his unusual compliment, Emerald smiled. He casually leaned back into the booth. “So, why did you run away, exactly? Life too hard?”

  Emerald narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? You have something against my kind?”

  Kyle leaned in, his face serious. “Did you see the rioters last night? Did you see how angry they were?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, your kind are taxing the shit out of my kind. And now, my kind can’t fucking move a muscle anywhere within Arcadia without paying out the ass. We are stuck in the lower levels. I would call that justified anger.”

  “I know nothing of the taxes, believe me,” Emerald shot back, her eyes burning with rage. “If I did, I would have fought against it. But I was treated like nothing more than a rich… daughter of a wealthy lord. I was shut out of any business that the upper class took part in. You can even say that I was held prisoner, in my own right.”

  Unaffected by her speech, Kyle took a long inhale of his cigarette, burning the cherry of it. Blowing out the smoke into rings, he said, “I wasn’t blaming you personally. Only your kind. Why do you think I felt the need to help you out? You seem clueless to Arcadia, even though you’re supposedly from here. And… very different from any other of the upper-class stiffs I’ve ever encountered.” He continued to focus on his smoke rings. “Which isn’t many, but you get the point.”

  Slightly embarrassed at her raging words, Emerald bit her lip, lowering her eyes to her coffee cup, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I would have probably done the same,” he said nonchalantly. “Besides, you left all that upper-level shit.” He paused, glancing at her. “Right? You aren’t planning to go back, are you?”

  Emerald shook her head. “No. I have no desire to. I was tired of being a prisoner in my own home, having no say in my life.” Her ruby lips curled into a smile. “My whole life, I have dreamed of seeing all of Arcadia. The places, the people, the city life. I had always imagined what it would be like.”

  Kyle smiled back. “Take life by the reins and tell it one giant fuck you. You are in charge. Live your life as if it’s the only one you got.”

  Emerald gave him an odd look. “We only have one life.”

  “Yes. And how have you lived it so far? How you pictured it?”

  “No.”

  “Then you need to figure out what you need to do to change that,” Kyle said, taking one last drag of his cigarette.

  “I shall,” Emerald agreed confidently. Her eyes met his with resolve. She gave him a bright, excited smile. Kyle managed to withhold his, though he didn’t do a good job of it, and it came off as a half smirk.

  “What house did you say you were from again?”

  Emerald grabbed her napkin, wadded it up, and threw it at him across the table. “Do you think me stupid?” she retorted. Amused, Kyle chuckled, getting up from the table and slapping down a few crumpled-up bills to pay for breakfast.

  “Hey, I thought I’d try.”

  ***

  Before Kyle and Emerald arrived at his practice, the two of them stopped at a few shops, so that Kyle could grab more liquor and Emerald more suitable clothes, something she’d insisted on acquiring. Every passing hour that she was in the lower levels, it became apparent that she was completely out of place. The clothes she had packed when she ran away were city fashions that came from the mid to upper levels, and she did not want to draw attention to herself any more than she had to. Especially now that her father and half of Arcadia were probably looking for her.

  Kyle didn’t rush her while she picked out her clothes. He sat there chatting with the owner of the shop, sharing his new bottle of liquor. Before she knew it, the store became more like a hangout, as a few of his street friends happened to pass by and see him. All of them eyed Emerald curiously, which made her more timid with each passing second. She heard the other people ask about her, and Kyle just shrugged, joking to the others, saying he found her on the street. They all laughed, thinking he was just playing with them. However, it wasn’t far off from the truth.

  After she picked out a few things, she changed into her new clothes—a deep-purple corset top with a denim-studded jacket, black tight pants, and black combat boots. She left her hair up in a ponytail, as it made the length of her hair appear shorter. Not by much, but it did help. No one down in the lower levels had long hair. But it was one thing that she would never do—cut her hair. Another trend she saw within the lower levels that she did like was several piercings in one’s ears, unlike the high levels, where people only had one set of holes in their ears or wore ear cuffs.

  Emerald paid for her outfit, then packed up her old clothes. She reminded herself to ask Kyle about the piercings. Just another thing to add to the list to ask him. ID, and now, where to pierce her ears.

  When they arrived at the warehouse that the band rehearsed in, Emerald was dumbstruck at the upkeep of the building. It had to have been the worst structure that she had ever stepped foot in. If she had to guess, the building was almost at the point of being condemned. Or maybe it already had been, and the band didn’t care. The walls were rundown, covered with scribbles and spray paint in all colors. There were thick black marker drawings inked throughout the color, mostly phallic.

  “Hey, asshole, what happened last night?” Emerald heard a voice call out from behind the band equipment. “You didn’t fucking meet us.” A head with blue dyed hair appeared, glancing in Emerald’s direction. “Oh, damn,” he mumbled, not saying anything further.

  Stepping behind Kyle, Emerald instantly felt shy.

  “Sorry,
I got caught up in some shit last night,” Kyle said.

  “It would have been nice to get a fucking call, but I forgot, you don’t even have a phone,” the guy joked.

  “Would you like to pay my phone bill?” Kyle didn’t bother to wait for a response from the other guys. Instead he set down his guitar case, pulling out the electric guitar and plugging it into an amp that the band had already set up. “By the way, this is Em, everyone. Em, that’s Diego, Kamren, and Remy,” Kyle said, pointing to each one.

  The other guys nodded, continuing to tune their instruments. Emerald waved shyly, meekly blurting out the word “hello.” She sat herself down on the only piece of furniture in the place—a shredded red couch with beige insulation foam exploding from the cushions.

  “So, Em, I’m surprised that you decided to hang with this asshole,” Diego remarked, taking a drink from his liquor flask. He eyed her, then looked over at Kyle, nodding. “He’s a dick most of the time. I can hardly stand him.”

  “He really isn’t so bad,” Emerald said, laughing sheepishly, turning red. “He just acts tough.” She bit her lip, wondering if she’d said too much.

  Diego laughed along with the other members of the band, but Kyle shot her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kyle asked, tuning his guitar. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were being a pain in my ass,” he said half amused, half annoyed.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s the exact opposite,” Kamren chimed in from behind his drums, giving Emerald a wink. “I can hardly fucking stand you during practice, either.”

  “Fuck you,” Kyle muttered, strumming his electric guitar loudly. “Are we going to do this, or are you all gonna fuck around all damn day and insult me?”

  “So damn sensitive. Is it that time of the month?” Diego said, joining Kyle with the chords.

  Emerald tried hard not to show her exasperation at Diego’s statement. Either Kyle didn’t hear him or just ignored it. The other two guys joined in, and within moments, they began rehearsing one of their songs.