by Taya DeVere
“He.”
“How do you know?” Bill asks, turning slightly toward Kaarina, but keeping his eyes on the majestic animal right beside him.
“Horse junk? That’s what you came here to talk about?”
Bill takes a step back and folds in half to peek under the animal’s stomach. Then he gets up and continues stroking the horse from its withers. “I think you’re mistaken. Zero balls down there, Kay.”
Kaarina can’t help but smile. For a fleeting moment, she’s distracted from stasis capsules, brain chips, rebel armies, and Laura Solomon’s lab attire. “It’s a gelding, not a stallion.” Kaarina gets up and scratches the horse under his mane.
“Must be shitty,” Bill says, staring at the horse.
“What is?”
“Getting snipped.”
Kaarina huffs, then continues scratching the gelding’s neck. Though her best friend has created a welcome distraction, muddled thoughts rush back in—and then right out—her tired brain. She can’t remember a time when she felt this disoriented. Lost. Angry.
“Look,” Bill whispers, pointing at a stained gray horse standing near a rotting round hay bale.
Kaarina crinkles the candy wrapper in her hand. The gelding next to her nickers, but doesn’t search her for more treats. Instead, he turns around and walks to his equine friend. Together they disappear behind the barn.
Bill sits down on the concrete mounting block in the middle of the yard. Kaarina shoves her hands into her pockets and investigates her friend’s face. “How’s it going today?”
Bill looks up and shrugs. “Slept in. Found more booze in the basement storage. This place has more alcohol than City of California and City of England combined.”
Kaarina scoffs and turns her face to hide her smile. She sits down next to Bill.
“And you?” he asks her.
“So far, so good. The kids seem to like this place, and everyone’s pretty happy here. Or as happy as they can be under the circumstances. The Chipped don’t seem to care how little we have. They don’t seem to miss the city one bit.”
Bill’s shoulder brushes against hers. “No, Kay-Kay. I asked how you’re doing.”
“Me?”
“What, has the ocean air frozen your malfunctioning brain?” Bill turns and knocks his knuckles against Kaarina’s head a tad too hard. “Yes, you. What’s going on in that blond head of yours?”
Kaarina hugs her legs against her chest. She closes her eyes and pretends that she’s sitting on a fallen, moss-covered tree trunk, deep in the woods of her homeland. The place where she grew up, the place she never thought she’d leave. Old trees and murky skies. Tall grass and eerie silence. She can almost hear the hedgehogs and raccoon-dogs crawl out from their nests under tree roots and the ruins of buildings. Sniffing for food, they roam the ditches and rocks. It’s a new, better world for them. Nature’s biggest predator doesn’t come around anymore.
“Kay?”
She shakes her head and opens her eyes. “I’m… I don’t…” But the words stick in her throat.
“Go on.” His face is serious now. He’s been waiting for this moment, for Kaarina to open up to him like she tends to do, because he knows her mind as well as anyone.
She inhales sharply. “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“About any of it.” Under her brows, she glances at Bill, then looks down at the ground again. “I feel like I’ve failed everyone.”
“Why’s that?”
“Why?” She huffs and gives him a dry laugh. “This war would have never happened without me. If I had been smart enough back then… If I had listened to you, if I had just stopped to think, just for a fucking moment, maybe I wouldn’t have gone back to her to get my brain poked and hijacked.”
“Solomon? You’re talking about the Chip-Center? What happened in City of Finland?”
“What else?”
“Hm.”
“Bill, I started this whole mess. Me. If I had never talked to Markus…” her voice breaks and her throat is suddenly too swollen for her to keep going.
“Hm.” Bill thinks for a while. Then a genuine smile spreads over his face. “You know… It’s not exactly your responsibility alone to save the world and the people in it.”
“No?”
“No.”
“But our people look to me for leadership and it’s a lot of pressure. I’m always worried I’m making the wrong decisions and that they’ll pay the price. So, yeah, it’s definitely my job to save the world. If not me, then whose job is it?”
Bill grins briefly, then pretends to think hard while he rubs his jaw, which is covered by a three-day beard. “Oh, it’s definitely Micky’s job to save the world. He seems to know enough to do so. Actually, he seems to know it all. What I should eat, and wear, and say…”
She looks up at Bill and gives him a wry smile. Having something so ordinary as a relationship issue to think about is just what Kaarina needed. And it’s clear Bill knows it, too. “Say it isn’t so,” she teases. “Trouble in paradise?”
“It’s not so much trouble,” he says, giving Kaarina a smile, “as it is me wanting to go live alone in a cave, or just have a drink with someone who doesn’t talk all the time. Like Yeti.”
“Wow.”
“I know, I know.” Bill sighs and takes a moment to fix his dreadlocks into a neat bundle that rests against the back of his neck. “It’s just living in a small hotel room together, spending all our time glued to each other’s side. Eating, drinking, sleeping, taking walks together day in and day out…”
“Sounds to me like you need some alone time, friend.”
His eyes narrow. “But isn’t that kind of a fucked-up thing to want? When all we have left now is each other?”
Kaarina can’t help it; a jaw-stretching yawn escapes her mouth.
“Oh, excuse me! Am I boring your rebel ass?”
She smiles and can’t help another yawn. “No, no. It’s not that. I’m just tired, I guess. I haven’t been sleeping that well.”
“Oh. Oh, fun,” Bill says with a sarcastic tone. “A guessing game. Let’s see, what’s keeping world-renowned rebel leader Kay-Kay awake at night?” He pauses and taps the tips of his fingers together. “Kay-Kay can’t sleep because… Hmm, could it be the fact that the world as we know it has come to its end?” He pretends to wave the thought off as ridiculous. “No, that’s old news. How about the fact that we could be attacked at any given moment? Possibly murdered in our sleep?”
“Thanks, Bill. You’ve really cheered me up here.”
“Humanity destroying itself? Lack of Mexican cuisine in this joint? The dogs liking me better than you?”
“Mm.” Kaarina nods repeatedly. “Ässä has been spending an awful lot of time in your room.”
“And don’t forget the expiring firewalls in our Chipped friends’ heads! That’s worth a sleepless night or two.” Kaarina nods again, this time her smile fading. Their little theater for two is starting to feel more like a tragedy than a comedy.
Bill picks up on her darkening mood and waves her off. “Hey, I’m just messing with you. If Solomon’s crew was able to attack us, she would have been all over that a long time ago. Besides, Ava’s theory that Margaret has somehow hacked our people’s chips and installed firewalls is growing on me. Though I would hope that Luna could confirm it by doing the same.”
“Right. It’s just that—Ava’s theory.”
“Yeah, well. The kid knows this genius way better than any of us. And so far, she’s been right. We’re safe here.”
Kaarina clears her throat. “How’s the CC collection coming?” she asks, eager to change the subject.
“Luna has my CS-key,” Bill says. “She’s on it.” He crosses his legs and cups his hands around his knees. “A few more days, and we’ll have more money than the black market has supply.”
Kaarina stands and takes a carpet knife from her pocket, then walks to the round hay bale. Running the blade on
the white plastic that covers the bale, she circles it. Then she slices the white plastic into three even pieces. Yellow, partly brown hay pokes out from its prison.
Bill gets up and walks over. “Is it good for them to eat?” he asks.
Kaarina reaches for a handful of straw and takes a sniff. Flustered, she tosses it on the ground and stomps on it. “Moldy as fuck.”
“Well, hey,” Bill says and hovers his hand above Kaarina’s shoulder. Their friendship is more the punching kind than the hugging kind. “We’ll figure it out. It’s only been three weeks.”
“Three and a half,” Kaarina says. She folds the blade back into the knife and shoves it into her pocket.
“I’m going out to draw today,” Bill says. “Just about to leave. Maybe I’ll find some hay and bring it back?”
Kaarina waves him off. “Don’t bother. If there’s hay out there, the horses will find it. They don’t need me.” None of the animals do anymore, she adds in her mind.
Bill gives her a long look, which she dodges. Then he pulls out a stack of papers and a pencil. He nods toward the open field that leads to the small village by the resort. This is where most of their people now live. A row of rusty-looking speakers encircles the cottages, casting their shade on the dry ground. Old outdoor warning sirens, with matching smaller speakers in each room inside the hotel. In case of an Emergency. That’s what the security leaflet at the hotel lobby taught them when they first arrived.
“Why don’t you come with me today?”
“No thanks. You’re the graphic designer. Not me.”
“I could use a fresh set of eyes.”
Kaarina rubs her eyes, then her whole face. She wishes she could shake the feeling that she’s about to crash at any given moment.
She turns to hide her teary eyes, walking away. “Just get it done,” she says. “Draw your damn Unchipped-World so we can hide from the world like cowards and rot away in the rain like that moldy hay bale.”
Bill frowns and stares after her.
“Is it the hotel?” he yells after her. “Is that what’s really bothering you?”
Kaarina stops but doesn’t turn around to face Bill. “What about the hotel?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You mean the basement.”
“I know you don’t want to talk about it. But it’s like a big fucking pink moose in the middle of the room, waving its horns at us, begging us to notice its ugly mug.”
“Antlers.”
“Whatever, Kay. It needs your attention.”
Squeezing the carpet knife in her pocket, Kaarina closes her eyes. Tears roll down, and she lets them. Instead of the memory of forest animals and the smell of a horse barn, different kinds of sensations flow in and fill her mind.
White pills shaped like American footballs, scattered around the bathroom floor.
Her panicked footsteps on neon-blue tiles.
White lab shoes. Following her, no matter where she goes.
Without a word, she walks on.
“Don’t just stroll away like a teenager with an attitude!”
“Fuck you, Bill.”
“Fuck me? Kay, this is not you. I’m just trying to help! We all are!”
But you can’t help me, she thinks, her sneakers pausing on the ground. How could anyone help her, when all she wants is to see Doctor Solomon suffer? To see her pay for what she’s done? How is Bill to help her when she’s more than ready to sink to Laura Solomon’s level? To get even. To get revenge.
“Talk to me, Kay!”
Kaarina kicks a small rock on the ground. It jumps against the concrete and rolls under a stall door. “I don’t know Bill. How could I know? Why should it be me who makes the decisions?”
“Like I said, you don’t have to decide anything alone. We’ve all seen the basement. It makes us all sick. But Kay, people look up to you. Like it or not—and I know you don’t—you are their leader.”
“Yeti’s the fucking leader.”
“Yeah, well,” Bill hesitates to continue. “Not to all of us.”
Kaarina lowers her chin. More tears stream down her face. She knows Bill can tell, no matter how much she tries to hide them. With a quick swipe, she dries her eyes on her sleeves. “The stasis capsules stay on. We’re not touching them.” She stands taller, clears her throat. “It’s Solomon who’s responsible for storing people in those death-pods. Not us.”
***
A lonely chair stands in the middle of the hotel’s kitchen floor, facing away from the cooking area. Markus walks over and straddles the seat. He leans his arms on the chair’s back, rests his chin on top of his folded hands. With his head tilted, he stares at the industrial oven in front of him.
Kaarina’s knuckles brush softly against the entryway’s wall, but Markus is too focused on the oven to notice. The divine smell of pulla floats around the kitchen. The thought of sweet pastries comforts her, but not because she’s hungry: the smell reminds her of her mother.
Afraid she might start crying again, Kaarina tries to shake off the images of her childhood. She knocks again, this time louder. Markus snaps out of his reverie. His deep blue eyes find Kaarina and a warm smile spreads across his face. “Guess what I baked?”
Kaarina walks in, chuckling softly. “Hmm, this is a tricky one.” She walks to the cupboards and leans against the counter. She rubs her chin, pretending to think hard. “Oven-sausage? Meatballs? Oh, oh, is it karjalanpiirakka?”
Markus laughs and waves her off. “That’s it, smart-ass. No pulla for you.” He rests his chin on his hands again and continues to stare at the rising dough through the oven’s glass door. Kaarina turns and opens cupboard doors until she finds the plastic mugs. She takes out two. Then she walks to one of the humongous refrigerators and takes out a gallon of soy powder milk. They should be more sparing, since it’s not clear when they’ll be able order more from the black market. But right now, she’s too tired to focus on shoulds and should nots. She pours the milk and walks over to Markus. He takes the mug from her and nods at a chair by the kitchen table.
After fetching a chair, Kaarina sits down next to him, mirroring his posture. In silence, they stare at the pastries, taking small sips of cold milk. Heat reflects on their faces, leaving their skin flushed and warm. A small smile is stuck on Markus’ face as he rests his cheek on his folded hands, turning now to stare at Kaarina. She squirms under his gaze. Nervous, she laughs a little, dodging Markus’ unusually bold stare. “What? Don’t tell me I have a milk-mustache?”
His smile deepens. “No, it’s not that. I mean, sure, that mustache of yours would make Yeti himself jealous. But that’s not it.”
Kaarina wipes her upper lip clean. “What then?” She smiles back at him, the man who once saved her life.
“I’m really proud of you.”
Kaarina huffs. She turns her gaze back to the oven. “Don’t be silly.”
“No, really. It was you who brought us here. To safety. All those people, the kids… thanks to you, they now have a home and good people around them. Plenty of food and water.”
“Shit-tons of pulla can’t be considered plenty of food, Markus.”
But he doesn’t joke back. Just smiles and stares. After a minute of silence, he says, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
“Which is what? A dirty barn girl?”
“Intelligent. Brave. A unique person.”
Kaarina huffs again and buries her face into her folded arms. The back of the chair digs into her forehead. “It’s normal for the Chipped to be fascinated by the Unchipped,” she mumbles. “Opposites attract.”
Markus doesn’t say anything. She knows he hates being labeled like that. Hates that people are categorized by the status of their brain implant. He gulps down the rest of his milk and sets the mug on the floor next to his chair. Then Markus gets up, grabs a kitchen towel, and opens the oven. When he pulls out a sheet of golden-brown sweet buns, Kaarina pushes her nose against her hoodie sleeve. The longin
g for her mother makes her feel like she’s five years old again.
“This batch came out really good. The last sheet got burned. I guess I misjudged the egg powder to milk ratio…” Markus’s voice fades out as Kaarina’s restless thoughts consume her. She thinks of her mother, dead on the bathroom tiles. Her father, who walked out on them and never came back. Is he Chipped? Chipless? Dead?
If Kaarina hadn’t been so eager to live the carefree, convenient life City of Finland had offered her, maybe she could have stopped the war from happening. If she had just laid low, stayed in the barn in the middle of the woods. If she hadn’t pushed her luck, visited the city, met Markus…
No. No, no, no. It’s not Kaarina’s fault. It’s hers. The evil Finnish witch in a white lab coat and good shoes. Shoes that she uses to crush anyone who dares to stand in her way. Anyone small, insignificant, meaningless. At least in her eyes. Those who don’t fit the great Laura Solomon’s plans for a new and better world.
“…and obviously there’s no cardamom in the mix either—”
“Markus, I want to destroy her.”
Markus looks up from the pastries. “Who? What now?”
Kaarina looks up, her forehead aching from pressing against the chair. “Solomon. I want her gone. Or if I can’t get rid of her, I want to make her pay at least. For everything she’s done.”
Markus drops the bun he’s holding. With a faint thump, it lands back on the baking sheet. “Kaarina, hey…” He takes a few steps toward her, then freezes. His smile is gone, and a frown shadows his kind eyes. “Where’s this coming from? Why are you bringing this up now? I thought you just wanted us all safe. That you didn’t care about the past.”
She tries to look stern and ignore the fact that her hands have begun to shake. “I did. I still do. But Solomon put those people down there. In those capsules. She put them there and left them to rot. We need to get those people out of there. What if that was one of us there? Owena or Sanna?”
Markus gasps, his eyes wide. “Hey, no need to bring the kids into this scenario. Stop painting the devil on a wall.”
