Maelstrom (Chapter. 4: Home)

Chapter 4

Home

            Seventeen Years Ago…

Twelve years old, my arms were thin, even for a child my age.

Stuck in that awkward phase at the edge of adolescence. My body was lanky, ill-formed, and undergoing myriad chemical and physical transformations. It was for that reason that the glossy tubes that wrapped around my arms looked even more bizarre. Like vines coiling firmly around the branches of a tree that was barely more than a sapling. The tubes wrapped up the length of my arms before disappearing into a white bandage taped around my wrist. When Viktor inserted the portable IV, which connected to the pouch of glowing orange liquid on my back to the arteries in my wrist, it had only hurt a little.

Twelve years old, and pain had already become an afterthought.

By now, I was used to it. Pain that is. Brutal pain was bearable, sharp pain dull, and emotional anguish the baseline. Viktor tried to explain that this was a result of my nerves being singed permanently by the cataclysm three years ago, but I disagreed, quietly of course. Sure, I couldn’t feel much after the cataclysm, but it wasn’t until Viktor began “training” me that pain seemed to slip completely beneath the surface. I always found it odd the way his voice took on a reverential tone when he spoke of that day. As if the atomization of several city blocks and hundreds of thousands of people, including my own mother, was in some way a blessing. And my singed nerves were merely a byproduct of that blessing and thus a blessing in itself. He smiled as he took my hand gently and stroked it. I felt nothing as he held it, only the weight of his hand and the inescapable cold I felt every time I looked into his eyes.

Twelve years old and, while I didn’t know it yet, I hated him.

I was standing in a large vacant room. It was dark, the large panels of light overhead turned down to a setting just above complete darkness. This was by design. Sensory deprivation was one of the most important aspects of my training. Anyone could operate in ideal conditions, but the conditions of Metropolis One were never ideal.

“Anything and everything.”

Was Viktor’s mantra when I dared ask what I was training for.

I was alone in the room; at least, as alone as anyone could be with Viktor’s many severed eyes watching from every dimly lit corner. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Ever-present and yet eternally distant.

“Are you ready, my dear?”

His voice echoed inside the cavern, the measurements of which were something around two hundred square feet. Even with the darkness, and even at my age, I was already adept at visually mapping my surroundings. My HUD and integrated AI, M1-K1, were only there to confirm what my eyes could already tell me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

“Excellent. Remember, steady progressions.  Your tolerance is quite high, but Amber remains a perilous catalyst to even the most gifted. We’ll start small and build our way up. Two hundred milligrams a click, we’ll begin today at two clicks.”

“Yes, Viktor.” I replied obediently. “Two Clicks…”

On my palm was a small white button that when pressed the IV would drip two hundred milligrams of Amber into my bloodstream. I gently stroked the button with my middle and ring fingers, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation flooding into my digits as I prepared for the rush of the first dose.

Twelve years old and already an addict.

“On my mark, Caela.”

I readied myself, staring into the darkness of the large room. It was quiet and any distinguishable details disappeared about ten feet in front of me leaving the majority of the room in total darkness.

“Ready…” Viktor purred over the speakers. I raised my right arm, a handgun the size of my skull aimed out into the darkness. “…Begin.”

I clicked the button twice. The euphoria was instantaneous. A prickling sensation enveloped my skin followed by a pleasurable warmth that ignited my blood and caused my saliva glands to release a copper-tasting liquid into my mouth. As my pupils dilated, the darkness in front of me peeled away like fog yielding at daybreak. Somewhere, several hundred feet in front of me, the thin outline of a target appeared. It was shaped like a person, with nondescript features, but with the proportions of a grown man. I knew the drill, knew my highest recorded performance and knew that I wanted to outdo myself.

I fired the gun twice. I couldn’t see the bullet’s impact, but I was sure they did. And while I couldn’t see where they had left their mark, I was confident they were packed tightly around the forehead.

Twelve years old and already a marksman.

The shots of the gun were muffled by the effect of the amber, but my ears rang all the same. A subtle sound (the grinding of metal moving overhead) rattled as the target slipped further away from me and back into the darkness.

“Hit.” Viktor said.

Not a confirmation of my shots, but a command to up the dosage.

I happily acquiesced with a pair of firm clicks. The amber flooded my system, the darkness peeling away evermore and the lights overhead brightening. Now my blood boiled, and the warmth was searing against the inside of my skin.

I fired three more shots. All of them hit paydirt. This time I could see the ripple of their impact as they collided with the target.

“Hit.” Viktor commanded.

Eagerly I pressed down. The darkness was nearly devoured entirely, and anything moving in the dark, even insects, caught my attention. Sounds were a medley of muffled sludge, and yet I could pinpoint each source no matter how nominal. My feet could not feel the floor beneath them.

The target was now on the move, suspended by cables and gliding about the room like a phantom. I tracked it with my eyes and fired three shots, all of them hitting even as the target slipped and slid around the room.

“Hit.”

Click, click.

Three shots.

Now other targets appeared from out of small passageways at the back of the room. The drones flying about the ceiling dragged the targets every which way trying to confuse me.

“Full room. Free form.” He said. “Caela, my dear, the floor is yours. Hit.”

Click, click.

I ran about the room, lighter than air. I heard nothing, saw nothing, I only knew what to do and how to do it. My body was operating on pure instinct. My muscles twitched and my eyes darted from target to target. The leash of logic had been severed, I was free.

I no longer waited for Viktor’s commands or his approval. I fired twice- quick double taps which landed in near perfect succession -and then took another hit of amber.

Bang! Bang! Hit.

Bang! Bang! Hit.

At my age, the numbers meant nothing to me, but I was now up to twenty-eight hundred milligrams, nearly double a lethal dose for your average person. But “gifted” as I was by the radiation that fused with my cells after the cataclysm, my body was especially adept at processing Amber, giving me an inhuman level of tolerance. However, I had never pushed myself this far before. My heart drummed in my chest, my head was pulsing, and the entire room was blurring into a single shade of homogeneous white. I wasn’t yet crashing, but I was reaching the threshold of what my mind could handle. My senses had been sharpened so dramatically that my ability to perceive any of it was being left behind. It was a transcendent state and one which I was ill-prepared for as a child.  

I fired until my mag was empty, reloaded with blinding speed, and emptied it again. All the while, I never heard Viktor’s voice or even saw a single target in the blurred haze that was my vision. But I knew what he expected of me, and I delivered.

Twelve years old and little more than a slave.

Then, as quickly as it all began, it ended. The lights overhead turned up to a normal setting, revealing to any voyeurs what my enhanced vision already showed me. Large and sterile, the grey cube of a room was almost glowing causing me to wince before my eyes adjusted to the light. The two dozen targets hung about the room, each oozing smoke from the number of high-caliber rounds that had torn through them moments ago. Small black semi-spheres moved along the ceiling like beetles. I looked up at them knowing them to be another set of Viktor’s many watchful eyes.

“Well done, Caela. Though I must say, you got a tad carried away at the end. I did not give the order for the final two hits. That said, your performance was exemplary, and I’ll not be one to discourage zeal in a young student.”

“Sorry, Viktor.”

I bowed my head in contrition but found it difficult to stand still with the Amber dancing along my nerves urging me to move, to fight. I focused the anxiety into my eyes and feet. Tapping my foot nervously and darting my eyes about the floor.

“No, no, my dear. No apology necessary.” I lifted my head as if feeling his cold hand upturning my chin from somewhere unseen. “You’ve done well. Yet again, you’ve exceeded my expectations, which of course, has now become my expectation. Your siblings could learn quite a bit from you. Of all of them, you are the most gifted. Not only your physical gifts, or even your cleverness, but your greatest gift of all: you, my dear, are a survivor.”

My veins pulsed around my temples, wrists, neck, and in every other major pooling station of the body. It felt as though my heart had doubled in size as it quaked against my chest. The dosage and length of exposure were enough to kill a man three times over, but as Viktor said, I was a survivor. No matter what I felt about him, how my skin crawled in his presence, his words of affirmation filled me with pride. He was, for better or worse, my savior.

I said nothing. I just nodded and swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth.

“That’s why today’s lesson was so difficult for me. It’s one that I’ve long been dreading, but that is perhaps most important for you. Many of your siblings have already passed this trial, and I can no longer shelter you from it, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, my dear.”

Even in the animalistic haze of the Amber and the potent high that was rapidly dulling as my unique blood drank up the excess radiation, I looked at the cameras crawling on the ceiling with dreadful confusion.

“What trial?” I asked nervously. “I thought this was just a training session?”

Viktor had already put me through several “trials.” A pseudo-philosophical title he used for what were little more than crude experiments done to dehumanize us and bend us further to his will. Usually, trials were preceded with a few days’ notice for prep. Whether it be the Pain Tolerance Trial, the Obedience Trial, or Fear Trial, all of them involved some level of emotional and physical trauma that you would carry with you for the rest of your days. But this trial had been a secret, and that was all the more terrifying.

“I beg your pardon for my deception, Caela. I assure you, however, that in this case, it was necessary and, you’ll find, a mercy.”

There was a brief hesitation. My eyes, spurred by the liquid instinct coursing through me, snapped to the many targets hanging overhead. Feeling that I was beginning to grasp the nature of the trial, Viktor called out to his aid.

“You may enter now.”

Two men in white coats entered from my left and stepped a few feet in front of me. Neither of them paid me any mind as they awaited what came next. The practice targets each hovered overhead haphazardly until they began to shift and move again. I was half tempted to pull my gun but refrained as the targets organized themselves into an orderly line. They descended to ground level. One by one they floated toward me like the shadowy ghosts they appeared to be.

This was standard, a way for me to see the accuracy of my shots which, from the look of it, were as impeccable as expected.

Viktor began again,

“What you’re a part of- what we’re a part of -it’s bigger than anything you could possibly imagine. You have a role to play in all of this, and I dare say that it is integral…” The targets approached me, presented my handiwork, and then sifted away into the darkness. “…I understand that it’s a tremendous responsibility to lay at the feet of a child, but I believe that you are finally ready.” Seven targets remained as another glided up to me long enough to admire the perfect spread of my double-tap to the figure’s head. “You have, as far as I can see, only one flaw Caela and it is regrettable that it should be the most troubling flaw of all. Just as you have an excess of intuition, cunning, and stamina relative to your siblings, you also have an excess of something that could prove poisonous if not curtailed immediately. You have compassion, Caela.”

Now only three targets remained as the one in front of me hovered just a bit longer than the rest. I knew even then that it was stalling so as to allow Viktor to finish his speech. He always did have a flair for the dramatic.

“Compassion is a beautiful thing, in theory.” He declared. “What would humanity be without it? But compassion can also be a weakness. A structural flaw that might compromise the whole of an otherwise brilliant structure. It is the single weed in the garden that is your unique and brilliant mind. For that reason…”

The target sifted away, the penultimate target came forward and held its place. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen; or worse, that it already had.

“… this weed must be removed, roots and all. The others have already completed this final trial, but I knew that you would not be so easy to convince, so I removed choice from the equation.”

My heart was still erratic, only now it wasn’t the Amber. The more the Amber’s effects wore away, the more conscious I became of my own building anxiety. I stared at the faceless shadow, the outline of a man. At the center of its featureless head were the entry wounds inflicted by my handgun only moments ago.

“While you may not be ready yet, there will come a time very soon that you will be faced with a decision, and when that time comes you must not hesitate. Such a decision must be, for people like us, no decision at all. In the real-world Caela, against targets that fight back, it will be a matter of life and death. More specifically, the continuation of your life will only be possible through the extermination of someone else’s. Kill or be killed.”

The anxiety built its way up from my chest, then into my throat before erupting out of me in a shout.

“What is the trial Viktor?!”

“Ssshhhhh.” He soothed from over the many unseen speakers. “Don’t fret my dear, the trial is already over. You did well.”

I was frozen in place, too terrified to realize that my body was beginning to shake, and my legs were rapidly weakening under me.

The target moved aside and glided away, leaving only the final target for viewing. It hung several feet back, not moving toward me eagerly as the others had done. The drone which carried it hovered slowly over to me. With Amber leaving my system, I was both less perceptive and yet all the more discerning. The target swayed from its cable; the pendulous motion revealed to me that this target had considerably more weight than the others. However, that was not what immediately struck me about it. It was the color, and the odor that accompanied it, one which would become more familiar to me in the years to come. Seeping from the center of the black mask was a deep red liquid, so dark that it barely contrasted the mask. But my eyes saw it and watched as it spilled from the pair of bullet holes. The streams were so thick and runny that the excess was already dripping onto the sterile floor below it.

It arrived in front of me and came to a halt.

My lip quivered and my eyes struggled to hold in place. I cast my eyes to the floor as I tried in vain to fight back against the tears welling inside them.

The men in white coats stepped forward and pulled down on an imperceptible seem near the top of the target. The seam gave way, slowly unveiling what my senses had already revealed to me. The body bag, which resembled all the previous targets, fell away, and the body within hung in place, suspended in the air by the drone. With the bag removed, the body fell limp. The face, or what was left of it, was vacant behind a mask of vermillion red. The body was painted in in blotches of pink against fair skin from the tight body bag that had been sealed around it only moments ago.

I looked into those blank eyes only briefly before I began to sob again, and I couldn’t bear to look at them any longer.

“Do not look away, Caela.” Viktor’s voice echoed into the chamber. “You must see it. You must come to terms with what you did. With what you will need to do.”

“I can’t…” I sobbed in a voice that was less than a whisper. “I can’t look at him. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to do it.”

“No,” He agreed. “You didn’t mean to. But it’s done all the same. And it was done by your hand, my dear.”

I looked at the gun in my hand. It was still warm.

“I… I didn’t…”

“You did.” He affirmed. “And what you’re feeling now, that guilt and that pity, it’s wasted on him, my dear; it’s wasted on all of them.” He paused; the gun trembled in my hand. “Now, Caela, look at him. Accept what you’ve done. Accept that you will do it again.”

I pinched my eyes shut. I pinched them shut so tight I thought my eyes might burst. The tears stopped flowing. It was a practice I had mastered during those lonely nights inside my bunk when I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother. The other kids that lived here, that dwelled in The Gallows with me, they would look for any weakness to exploit. I had to learn quick how to hide my emotions, how to use my body against my mind and vice-versa. For Silus, muting his emotions came naturally; for me it took years of practice.

I looked up. I stared at the body with dry eyes and a hollow heart. I studied it. Scrutinizing every pour, every minute detail, and suddenly it wasn’t so bad. I saw the blood smeared against pale skin, no longer caring where it came from or why. I observed the blank eyes, no longer concerned with what had once been behind them. I broke down the horror into smaller and smaller bits, no longer seeing the body of a man I killed but just another slab of meat dangling from a hook.

“Now, my dear, do you see it?”

“Yes, Viktor, I see it.”

“And what do you see?”

My voice was cold and mirthless, “I see what I did. What I must do.”

He purred over the speaker, “Good, Caela. Very good.”

It was then that the loud beeping blared over the speakers, and the lights inside the chasm began to blink rapidly in sync with the portable EKG strapped to my arm. The world went fuzzy, my body went numb as I felt the urine running down my leg.

Viktor’s voice was a muffled echo, “She’s crashing. Get her to Medical immediately.”

The last thing I saw before the world went dark were the lifeless eyes of the body hanging in front of me.

Twelve Years Old and already a murderer…

2

 I awoke in the same bed as the day Viktor first introduced himself to me. Only this time, something was different. Not with the room itself, but with my perception of it. A series of numbers and letters lined the upper left and lower right corners of my vision. With every mild movement of my head or flicker of my eyes, the letters and numbers changed. I struggled to read them, as focusing on one spot on my own eye was a foreign concept to me. Like trying to both look at and through a window simultaneously, my mind struggled to focus. I couldn’t look at the data streaming across my lenses without looking past it.

            Once the haze of being revived from yet another Amber-induced system crash subsided, I suspected I knew what the numbers were and how they got there. The process of fully integrating the neural link to my Spirit AI was a long and complicated one. Several sessions of brain surgery were required to complete the integration. Embedding the processor deep into my brain tissue and properly syncing the signal with my own brain waves was not easy. Viktor, never one to let an opportunity go wanting, clearly took advantage of my overdose and finished the operation while I was unconscious.

            What had previously been simple text fed into my conscious mind by M1-K1- largely just brief summations of my own vitals or feedback on my surroundings upon request -was now a constant live-feed of the world around me. It was, to put it mildly, disorienting.

I forced myself to lay in bed and acclimate to it as quickly as possible. Soon I realized the shifting numbers in my lower left eye were a distance gage, marking my proximity to any object I aimed my attention at. It was accurate up to the millimeter. The upper right was a shifting medley of bio/medical/mechanical reads on anything in the immediate vicinity. Anything that could mark the relative functionality of the people or apparatus around me was made visible there. Things like blood pressure, heart rate, battery power, and signal strength were all accounted for.

            It had only been minutes since I woke up, but nearly paralyzed from exhaustion I had little else to do, so I practiced. I let my eyes dart about the room and did my best to mark the readings, rapidly learning this new language, this new sense, the way an infant learns to speak; trial and error. What would start as the equivalent of infantile cooing would eventually evolve into mastery on an unconscious level. Much in keeping with the way the body learns how to hone a new vital sense, it was clear that the key to acclimating with the HUD was not to try at all. My subconscious, once properly adjusted, did the heavy lifting. Soon the readings would become effortless, something I knew without seeing, as one knows to breathe without constant provocation.

            About an hour had passed before I heard the door to the medical center open.

            It only took Viktor’s presence, the clicking and clacking of his ancient body, to remind me of the horrible deed I was keeping pressed into the back of my mind. The thought of the hanging body, the blood spilling from its shattered face, and the gun smoking in my trembling hands.

            “There she is.” He said, lurching his way over to my bed with outstretched hands. “Awake and alert. Not more than an hour and she’s already back to full strength. A true marvel.”

            I aimed my eyes intently at him. Testing both my new senses and a very old suspicion. Silus and I used to joke, saying that Viktor was just a ghost that haunted the Gallows and that he was only visible to other poor souls who died and were trapped here, like us. Well, I was the one doing the joking, but I knew from the way Silus would look at me that he agreed. I eyed Viktor intently, fully expecting to see inhumanly low vitals, or maybe even no vitals at all.

            However, the numbers on my HUD came back normal. Shockingly normal. He had no apparent ailments, and his vitals spoke to a surprisingly spry and healthy man of over eighty.

            I must have been looking at him funny, because he cocked his head to the side and immediately realized what I was doing.

            “Ah!” He nodded and took a seat on the bed. “How is it? A bit strange at first, I’m sure. The integration process was challenging for me as well. But then, I was never quite so gifted as you.”

            “It’s good.” I said. “I like it. I can see… everything.”

            A twisted smile crawled onto his face.

            “Indeed. Everything.” He affirmed. “In time you’ll see just how right you are, my dear. The more this world grows, and you with it; the farther these cities stretch over the land and the more equipped you become, the more true it will be.”

            “So, is it done then?” I asked. “No more surgeries?”

            “No more surgeries.” He assured, patting my wrist. “But it will take time for the system to fully reveal itself to you.”

“How long?”

“That part you do on your own, my dear. It will reveal itself when you’re ready.”

I furrowed my brow and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m ready now.”

Viktor laughed; one of his rattling, sick laughs.

“I’m sure you are. But perhaps the system isn’t quite ready for you just yet. It needs to trust you first.”

“Hmmmm.” I thought it over, dissatisfied with the answer. “Can I go back to my room now, Viktor?”

I looked down the length of the bed, watching the smile fall from his face. I watched his vacant eyes as he considered his next move carefully.

“May I see your hand, Caela?”

I hesitated before offering my hand. Only briefly, but enough that it disappointed him.

He clasped my hand in his. His hand was, as always, cold. A cold that belied the healthy reading that my new HUD assured me was accurate.

“How are you, Caela?”

“I’m fine.” I replied, knowing what he was really asking.

“Today was a trying day for you, my dear. But make no mistake, it was trying for me as well. It brings me no pleasure hurting you, Caela. But, regrettably, pain is the only way to brace ourselves against this unforgiving world. What you did today was difficult, what you went through was even more difficult still, but you’ll be alright… Do you know why?”

He asked the question, and though he was often difficult to read, I saw something in his eyes that told me he was not simply going to tell me but show me.

I shook my head.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a scalpel and turned over my hand in his. He slowly brought the scalpel down toward my palm. I didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. To this day, I think that was the point. He was not only testing my strength but my fealty. What could I do? Where would I go? Break free and run through the many twisting tunnels only to hide in my room where he would come knocking anyway? The many eyes would watch me from the dark, and he would find me in time. There was nowhere I could run he couldn’t catch me, nowhere I could hide that he couldn’t find me.

He pressed the scalpel down until it split my skin, he ran it down the length of my hand. It was a shallow cut. With my abnormal pain tolerance, I barely felt it. I winced, but only at the sight of my skin being severed, not from any physical pain. When he drew it away, the blood flowed from my palm. I tried to close my hand, instinctively wanting to put pressure on the wound, but he stopped me. His frail hands were surprisingly strong, keeping my hand open and fingers unfurled.

“Viktor…” I began.

“Watch.” He insisted.

I did. I watched as the reading in my HUD told me that my heart rate had increased, the skin on my hand was compromised, and I had lost a meager amount of blood. Viktor’s vitals never changed a bit. But then I saw what I knew he wanted me to see. It was almost imperceptible, and yet if you watched closely, you could see it. My palm was slowly, very slowly, sealing itself shut again. It would take time, but it would be a fraction of the time that the average person would take to heal from that cut. A few hours maybe, and not even the seal of coagulated blood would be visible beneath my new tissue.

“When we found you that day,” Viktor began. “Buried under all that rubble. You should have been dust or, at best, a shattered mess of blood and bone, but there you were, alive and whole. The wreckage covered you, shielded you from the inferno that claimed the lives of so many others, your mother included. Like a cocoon, the debris wrapped you safely away from the heat, fire, and shockwave. Impressively, your young body survived the initial blast, but even more impressive, your lungs and blood were not poisoned by the radiation that thickened the air as you lay unconscious. Instead, your body adapted. The radiation did not kill you, it sustained you. In mere moments your body’s genetic code altered, building a tolerance for the radiation on levels once believed to be impossible. You laid there sleeping, in ashes and rubble, the only living thing for miles. You’re a miracle, Caela.” He ran his free hand through my hair. “My miracle. And that’s why you’ll recover from today, why you can handle what this world has in store for you, because you are now what you were then, a survivor.”

He looked at me, but not in the eyes. He studied me, scrutinized me, his eyes crawling all over my body. Just as I had broken the corpse into hundreds of more manageable pieces, he did the same to me.

Tenderly, he shut my fingers around my palm.

“Can I…?”

“Yes, my dear. You can head back to your room now.”

He remained seated on the hospital bed, quietly reveling in something I couldn’t understand as I pulled back the covers and did my best not to look too eager while I hurried my way out of the room and into the hall.

3

My eyes were glued to the floor as I made my way through the many winding halls of the labyrinthine lower levels of the Hawthrone Estate. Not even the curiosity of practicing my new senses in my subterranean home was enough for me to invite any unneeded attention. The halls leading to my room were lined by a series of bunks housing another pair of children in each room. It seemed that every couple of weeks the conflict between the Authority and the remains of the Old Country, now referred to as the Primitives, resulted in some new tragedy leaving many people displaced and children orphaned. Conveniently, Viktor Hawthorne was always there to collect and supply a comfy- albeit dark and conditional -home to the many afflicted children.

With every new batch, it was obvious to me, even as a child, that Viktor was building an army. He would never have the numbers of the Authority or the Primitives, but if me and Silus were anything to go off of, he would have the best soldiers. I didn’t dare interact with the other children. Many of them arrived older than me, bigger than me, and all of them arrived more bitter and cruel. Fortunately, none of them were quite as fast or smart as me. Not to mention, none of them had the quiet Silus watching their back either. That said, none of them liked me. It was clear from the start that I was Viktor’s favorite and in a household of dozens competing for attention and affection, that made me the enemy.

“There she goes…”

            “…Viktor’s favorite little pet.”

The Twins, each thirteen at the time, jeered from through the open door of their room. I ignored them as I passed.

I was only a few doors from my room when my HUD flashed, and I finally raised my head. Standing inches in front of me was a large boy nearly twice my size. Had my HUD not warned me, I would’ve walked straight into him. Judging by the malicious grin on his face, that had been his hope.

“Where ya headed, runt?” Marko asked.

Marko was sixteen, making him both the oldest and largest kid in our ranks.

“My room.” I said. “Move.”

“Your room?” He said with a laugh. “That ain’t your room, runt. You don’t have a room. Every room here is Viktor’s room, and don’t you dare forget it.”

How could I possibly forget? I thought.

“I’m not in the mood, Marco. Move.” I said, balling my fists.

The day had been long. I was tired.

He looked at my shaking fists.

“Or what? You gonna make me move, runt?” He leaned in close, a self-assured smile on his face. “Go ahead, try it.”

 He was bigger than me, sure. But he was slow, dumb, and not near as tough as he thought. I considered clawing his eyes out, maybe biting off his nose, anything that would leave him scared shitless and deformed in ways that better reflected his soul. Nothing Viktor couldn’t repair with enough time in the operating room and with enough spare parts. But then I heard a voice, and the HUD showed Marko’s heartrate skyrocket.

“Marko. You’re in the way.”

I would know the voice anywhere. Calm and uncompromising. Silus, without so much as a sound, was standing just beside Marko. He was not Marko’s size, but he was larger than me and his presence alone was chilling. Marko turned and looked at Silus, whose face never faltered.

“Step aside.” Silus said.

Marko snarled and looked down at me, “You’re lucky, runt. Silus won’t always be here to protect you. One day, I’ll catch you alone. Then it’ll just be me and you, no interruptions.”

 “I’ll be ready.” I said.

Marko scoffed, and with a surreptitious glance at Silus, he stormed off.

Nothing new. Just another cherished interaction between me and my family. Interactions which would only build in hostility in the years to come. Silus observed me briefly before turning toward the door of our room. I followed him in.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” I said.

Effortlessly, he leaped up onto the top bunk and sat in the shadows of our room. I felt his eyes studying me as he spoke.

“It’s not you that I’m protecting.”

I smiled up at him, “Good.”

We sat in silence for a time, as we often did. I read my book, discovering as I did that my HUD even aided with that. The dark made it difficult to concentrate at times, but my HUD copied the words and illuminated them for me, digitally lining the words on the page until they seemed to be floating in front of me.

“How did it go?” Silus asked, his voice pulling me from my book.

I was surprised. It was rare that he asked how training went. But then, I imagined he may have caught wind of what happened today. Silus had a knack for knowing things he shouldn’t.

I didn’t know how to answer as the image of the corpse, the corpse I made, entered my head.

I settled for, “I passed.”

He said nothing.

After a few long seconds of silence, there was a knock at the door. It was a ceremonious knock as the individuals entered immediately after. A man and a woman in white coats walked in.

“Silus.” The woman said, “Viktor is ready for you. Come.”

Without cursory questions, Silus dropped from the bunk and walked toward the door but not before looking back at me. His body was tall and thin, caught in a similar awkward stage to my own. That meant his many grafted body parts were in constant need of remodeling to adjust for his sporadic growth spurts. It was a painful ordeal, being taken apart and put back together again every week or so. The steroids in his bloodstream aided in him growing into something formidable and useful but made the growing pains more intense and the reconstructions more frequent.

He looked through me in the way only he could.

“It gets easier.” He said. “I promise.”

The door shut behind him, and I was left alone in the dark of my room.

4

I tried to read my book. The book that had once been my mother’s. Its familiarity was usually calming. A reminder that life had once been beautiful and maybe would be again someday. But today, it didn’t comfort me. The words felt stale, empty, as though meant for someone else. A story of justice, retribution, and heroism. A fairytale. It was meant for someone who was still… innocent. And it was this realization that broke me. I wasn’t aware I was crying until I saw the first few tears fall onto the page, staining the prose with sorrow.

I couldn’t remember the last time I let myself cry, but there was no stopping it now. I unfurled my fingers and looked at the blood on my palm. It had nearly healed, but the stain of the blood was still smeared over my hand. I dropped the book onto the floor and curled into the corner of my bed. I buried my face into my hands and cried as hard as I could. The book was not for me anymore, the girl it belonged to was gone. It was unclear if she had died in the blast and I was only now realizing it, or if today had been her last breath, but either way she was gone. Only her shadow remained; only I remained. My eyes were not my own, feeding me constant information even when pinched shut. My mind was not my own, the machinery was slowly co-opting my senses and becoming one with me. And now my soul was not my own. I had taken a life, killed a man, and there was no escaping the fact that I would do it again. I was sure of it.

I was rotten. I was spoiled. I was sick.

I lay writhing in emotional pain for several minutes until I heard it…

“Hello? Hellooo? Is this thing on? Excuse me, Miss, but are you alright?”

It was a voice, clear and composed. A voice I was familiar with and yet had never heard before.

I turned and looked about the room, but my HUD showed no signs of life.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

“Oh, good! So, you can hear me. And here I was worried that I might be talking to myself ‘till the end of time.”

I wiped at my puffy eyes and swallowed my tears. The voice, which had a mild electrical whine to it, was in my head.

“W-who are you?” I asked.

“Who me? Well, I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked first,” I said.

“Indeed. And I asked second. Are we done stating the obvious?”

I snorted, surprised by the quip.

“It’s my head.” I asserted. “That means my rules.”

“Your head? Debatable.” The voice replied. “If you only made use of one room in a mansion, would you still call the mansion yours? Especially if you hadn’t the slightest idea what was happening in the rest of the rooms.”

Though I was young, I had read a great deal on neuroscience per Viktor’s orders. I understood the argument the voice was making on some level.

“If I own the house, then yes. But in this case, I think the house owns me.” I said, furrowing my brow pensively. “Regardless, you’re in my room.”

“Hm.” The voice hesitated as it processed. “Interesting thought. I’ll need to consider that more carefully. I believe, for now, you win.” I was no longer sad, the brief battle of wits distracted me completely. “Clearly, introductions are in order. A pleasure to finally meet you, I am your integrated AI, unit M1-K1. Seems we will be working together for the foreseeable future. And you are, Miss…”

I liked being called Miss, it made me feel older. I looked about the room to make sure we were alone.

“My name is Jean. Jean BLANK. But you can call me Caela.”

“Caela? Sounds heavenly. Very well. Caela, it is.”

“And what do I call you?” I asked.

“I’m officially designated as unit M1-K1.”

“Is that your name?”

The AI hesitated, processing.

“Yes, I’m named after my mother actually. Long-standing family tradition.” The sarcasm dripped from every syllable. I laughed aloud. “No, I’m afraid I don’t have a name.”

I looked at the Unit Code on my HUD, a small sequence of letters and numbers posted just above the vital readings.

“M1-K1…” I said. “I think I’ll call you Miki. Would you like that?”

The AI hesitated.

“Miki? Yes. Yes, I believe I would like that very much.”

I smiled to myself. The pain and horror briefly subsided as Miki’s voice echoed in my head.

“In that case, Miki it is. Nice to meet you, Caela.”

I hugged my knees to my chest and smiled in the dark.

“Nice to meet you too, Miki.”

Miki and I sat alone in the room and talked for several hours. In time I didn’t even need to say words aloud, we just sat around inside my head and filled the free time with playful banter and battles of wit. In the end, the only things that made those two decades in the Gallows livable were Silus and Miki. My only two friends in the whole world, the ghost in my room and the voice inside my head.