Binary, page 15
21-2
Uncut land
The ground was soft from the previous night’s rain. Our feet sank into it as we walked, Bruce’s significantly more than mine. It was going to be a messy hike to the city.
Tree after tree looked the same. For a moment, I thought we were walking in circles, but the overhead sun kept me moving forward— like a guiding star proving itself useful for more than heat and photosynthesis. I was grateful to have it.
The uncut land was not as cooperative. It was demanding. Thorns outlined the brush; there were no paths to be found, and the closest thing to an easily accessible area we came across was a small field that opened near the middle of the forest. Grass was high. I worried about it as I made my way through what was no doubt a serpent’s playground.
“Why do I feel like I’m going to get snake-bitten?” I asked.
“Snake-bitten?” asked Bruce in return.
“Yes, Bruce,” I answered. “Bitten by a snake.”
Bruce stopped walking. “A snake?”
“Long, slender fangs, often poisonous,” I said. “Any of this ring a bell?”
“You mean a serpent,” his voice raised. “Like the Crotalus cerastes cercobombus?”
“Um,” I mumbled. “I’m just going to say yes.”
“Are you still hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.” I pulled him to walk again. “I don’t see how that’s related to the conversation at hand.”
Bruce stared at me as we marched. “Can you eat a serpent?”
I could not help but laugh. It was the strangest question anybody had ever asked me. “Let’s just get to the city.”
We marched on, forging our paths through uncharted territories. It was not all thick and thorny. Scrubs and vines eventually opened until we found ourselves in a section of forest with mostly clear ground. Sparse vegetation and leaves carpeted the ground beneath our feet, all shaded by the natural canopy above.
We stumbled across diverse wildlife along the way. I had spent so much time studying that I never ventured out to encounter animals beyond cats, dogs, squirrels, and birds. I wanted to touch them.
I was getting thirsty and in dire need of a cold bottle of water when a distant Gray Fox scampered by chasing after an Eastern Cottontail under a sun now high in the sky. The chase excited part of me, but I was worried about the rabbit.
“Why is one chasing the other?” asked Bruce.
“The fox is chasing the rabbit to eat,” I answered. “For food.”
“Would you like to eat a rabbit?” he asked.
“No, freak,” I answered. “I would not like to eat a rabbit. Thank you, though.”
Something came to mind after the fox and rabbit were far from sight: the days leading up to the trek in the forest had been exhilarating, some of the most electrifying times of my life—not that I wanted to repeat them—and we saw a pair of bobcats, a deer, foxes, and several types of small rodents over the first eight hours of walking. Insects were not as bad as I thought they would be, but they were out and biting. Those nibbles were the first thing to remind me of home in weeks.
I was getting weaker by the minute, most likely from hitting my head so hard and being snatched around the compound. The hike was not helping, nor was hunger, but I could not stop. I had to press on.
We made our way around a group of trees, and Bruce grabbed me. His hand covered my mouth. Frozen in fear and unable to speak, my eyes grew wide.
“Ursus Americanus,” whispered Bruce.
Every breath I took was erratic beneath his fingers. He had heard or seen something I had not. A few seconds passed.
“There.” He pointed.
I stopped breathing when I saw it. A Black Bear lazily made its way across the forest ahead of us. It was beautifully terrifying as it stopped and smelled the air for a moment, then looked our way. I was no longer curious about the wildlife, but perhaps it was curious about me. It sent an unpleasant feeling through my gut, but the bear continued along its path.
I turned to look at Bruce when he released his hand from my mouth.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Of course,” I answered. “I didn’t get mauled or anything.”
He looked at me for a minute. His eyes locked forgivingly, as if he were looking through my soul’s window. I would have written it off as infatuation if he were human.
“Thank you,” I said, “but seriously, I’m fine.”
He broke eye contact and pressed forward with me behind him.
21-3
Water
It was an hour later when Bruce pushed through another section of trees. Soon after, he rounded a large boulder protruding from the ground like a piece of mountain and came to a complete stop. I passed him. Freshwater springs were ahead of us.
I had grown accustomed to the one near my house, but the one before us was exceptional: steam glistened off it, small fish were swimming about, an otter played at the far side of the bank, and a large ray of sunshine pierced through the conjoined leaves above us to spotlight crystal-clear water. It was straight from The Blue Lagoon—a favorite of mine.
I was riddled with dirt from head to toe. My hair was nasty. I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and wanted to relax. What I did not want to do was get my clothes wet and continue tromping through the forest.
I stood on a rock protruding from the earth. “I think I’m going to get in and wash off a bit. We can’t walk into the city covered in filth. Our clothes look bad enough as it is.”
“Should I?” asked Bruce. “Should I get in?”
“That’s up to you,” I said. “You’re pretty nasty.”
I unlaced my dirty shoes and slid them from my feet. My socks followed, and my belt came off as I turned to Bruce. He was watching me.
“Bruce,” I said.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Would you mind turning around for a moment?”
He looked over his shoulder and back at me. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” I answered.
“I will not wet them,” he said.
“I’ve got to take them off,” I continued. “Just turn around.”
He stepped forward. “You are going to take off your garments?”
“Hold it right there,” I said, stopping him. “Don’t get excited, spark plug. I’m not coming out of the underwear.”
“Excited?” he asked.
“Just...”
“Will your undergarments not be wet?” he continued. “Will they not get your other garments wet when you put them back on?”
He was right. I did not need a rash forming while we hiked our way to the city.
“I have to take my shirt and bra off,” I said.
“Then take them off,” he said.
“I can’t.”
His head tilted. “Are they stuck?”
“No.”
“You are getting all the way in?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I raised my shirt a bit, but Bruce turned his back and beat me to it. His dirty, sediment spattered body came into view as he pulled his battered shirt over his head. At that moment, I realized without uncertainty that I should have set aside time in my life for dating. I had to force myself to stop looking at him. He was easy on the eyes.
My shirt was tattered but a snug fit. It gripped my face as I pulled it off. I dropped it to the protruding rock and saw Bruce had already made his way into the springs. Water barely covered his legs. My heart skipped a beat. He was naked, and I glimpsed his backside as he moved into deeper water.
“Bruce,” I shouted through laughter.
He turned to me, anatomically correct, and assembled, breathtakingly well. The still water barely covered him. I could not take my eyes off it... off him. I had to say something.
Bruce did not see what he was doing as inappropriate. Nor did he comprehend how it could make another shy or uncomfortable. He had a lot to learn. And apparently a lot to give.
My eyes averted. “What are you doing?”
“Are we not getting into the water?” asked Bruce.
“Yeah,” I answered, “but you were supposed to leave your underwear on like I am.”
“But I do not have underwear,” he said.
I had my hands over my eyes when I turned back to him.
“Why do you put your hands over your eyes if you are going to look between your fingers?” he asked.
He was right again. I was peeping between my fingers. He had officially embarrassed me, and I had not finished getting undressed.
“Turn back around,” I said.
He turned and the buttons on my pants had never come apart so quickly. I was trying to get into the water before he turned back around, and, even though he was more machine than anything else and it should not have mattered, I was shy. I was not used to having my body exposed around other people... especially someone who looked like Bruce.
He was waist deep by the time he turned back around. I entered and plunged myself beneath the water. Frantic hands washed dirt and sweat from my face before I resurfaced, never coming higher than shoulder-level. As it had been for the entirety of my adult life, my body was mine and mine alone to see.
“Are you going further into the water?” asked Bruce.
“No,” I answered.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because I can’t swim,” I answered.
His head cocked. “Of course not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“I cannot swim either,” he answered.
“I never learned,” I said. “That’s all.”
I washed the grime from my skin, and Bruce attempted to do the same. He was not so adept. Black sediment fell freely with the brush of his hands, but he was unthorough and left large handprint sized swipes of filth on him.
I tried not to look his direction, but it was hard not to. He looked like a lovely human-Zebra. I was already laughing inside and needed to divert my attention.
My head dropped to focus on my body. A bit more scrubbing was necessary. My head dunked, and I ruffled my fingers through my hair until no dirt remained.
Bruce was still swiping when I resurfaced.
“Am I clean?” asked Bruce.
“No.” I giggled. “You’re not.”
“Will you show me?” he asked. “Help me?”
I pressed my lips together. “Ummm...”
“Please?” he urged. “I want to be like you.”
“Okay,” I said, “but no funny business.”
His head cocked again. “What is funny business?”
“Never mind,” I answered.
I was not about to explain. If he did not know, it was best kept that way. All I needed was an android trying to mac on me.
“You have to look at what you’re doing.” I approached. “Otherwise, you’ll miss spots.”
“But I cannot see my face,” he said.
“You rub your hands over it like this.” I motioned in mime-fashion.
He replicated my movements but did not have the concept down. Trivial things, like the dirt in the inner corners of his eyes, eluded his cleaning instincts. I was going to have to help. I knew it.
I crept to him, cautious not to startle him. “Close your eyes.”
The touch of his skin beneath my fingers was personal. An odd bonding moment, somehow romantic in its own way. Like shaving a man’s face for the first time.
I moved my attention towards the stripes of dirt running diagonally across his chest and stomach. My hand dipped into the water and ran down the patches of silt.
I followed the contours of his chest with my palm. My fingers moved up and down slowly as I brushed them from his chest to his lower stomach, over his abdominal muscles, molding my fingers along the way. Molding me. My heart was flying. I wanted to soar away with it..
He was a slender dream. A young girl’s desire. But he was not real. He was not human.
His eyes were still closed as I bathed him. It was a tender surrender, and I was lost, not wanting to be found.
Bruce was clean from the waist up when a noise from the woods broke my trance. It was awkward. I could not allow myself to do exactly as warned not to do, but it was too late.
“Ummm, Bruce.” I pulled my hand from his lower stomach. “I’m going to go over there and wait for you.”
I exited the spring to get dressed. Water dripped behind me with wet footsteps. My eyes widened.
“Bruce?” I asked.
“Yes?” he answered.
I motioned to his body. “You need to wash the rest of yourself off before you get out.”
“I am,” said Bruce.
“Then why did you follow me out?” I asked.
“Not all the way,” he said.
“No,” I giggled, “but I think you’re in some pretty shallow water.”
Bruce angled his eyes downward. “I cannot see my legs to wash them in deeper waters.”
His logic was sound. It was simple to him. Complex for me.
It was the first time I felt the temptations I heard others talk about. My heart was beating with force. I kept my back towards him while I got dressed and sat on the protruding rock to wait. The sound of dripping water turned small splatters as he made his way onto the land behind me.
“Do I get dressed now?” asked Bruce.
“Yes, Bruce.” I smiled. “You do.”
My pulse slowed, but not much. I made certain he was clothed before turning to face him again.
“We have to go?” asked Bruce.
A nod was all he got. I could not focus enough to answer. Bruce had given me so much to think about.
It would not be long before we were back on our hike to the metropolitan ahead. All we needed to do was keep the setting sun behind us. There was one difficulty: neither time, the universe, nor Mother Nature cared to wait for us.
It would be dark before we reached the city.
21-4
Nightfall
Day had turned to night and a few helicopters flew in the black above, shining lights down into the forestry shrouding us. There was no sense in trying to wave one of them down. They could not have seen us, and it would have only led to another confrontation.
We made our way through the forest until the city came into view and hid the stars above. It offered a welcomed change of view, but I was not sure if we should enter. I feared Bruce would expose himself if we did. Taking him into the city would be a major risk but leaving him alone was out of the question. Our clothes—unacceptable—Bruce’s to the point of near worthlessness, and we did not have any money.
I told him we were heading for the city but not that I was going to contact the doctors. He would not have understood. He was still afraid they were going to hurt me, and I did not see a way to wrestle the notion from him. All he needed to know was not to hurt anyone.
I warned him of the changes he would face in the city, trying to play it off as a novel experience for him. Possibly an overwhelming one. He was about to enter a dynamic new world, and I was going to be entering it with him.
Chapter 22
Crooked streets
WE ENTERED THE CITY with separate agendas: he wanted to keep me safe and away from the doctors, and I wanted to find out exactly what those at the compound were planning on doing if they caught him.
I needed to address the doctors and scientists involved with Bruce to open their eyes; and their ‘machine’ needed to help me do it. It was necessary to learn details beyond how they created his exoskeleton. The blacked-out portions of documents were something I required brought into view.
Everything going on with Bruce was beyond the reaches of their understanding. They thought they knew him because they created him. They had not. They only created the vessel carrying him.
“Bruce,” I asked. “What did you mean by remembering? What are you remembering?”
“Things,” answered Bruce.
“What things?” I asked.
“I...” He paused. “Things before I was here.”
I grabbed his shoulder and brought us to a stop. “Before you were here?”
“Yes,” answered Bruce. “I see things that are not from this place.”
“Like a daydream?” I asked. “In your imagination?”
“I do not know, Alexis.”
It was mindboggling. His compassion, worry, and curiosity were coming to the fore of what he was. The possibility of imagination and dreams alone painted a picture of something within. Bruce could soon test what the world saw as a living being. Some would accept him, others would not.
I left the forest’s edge and guided him to climb a guardrail at the edge of the road with me. A few cars passed by. Bruce watched in awe. He was already stunned by the concrete jungle swelling around him.
We were entering what most would consider an unwelcoming part of town, but I would not call it a ‘bad neighborhood’ the way others would. That would be improper terminology. A neighborhood is nothing more than a piece of land with things built on it. They cannot be inherently bad. There are only neighborhoods full of bad people.
The outskirts of the city were dreary and dark. People of questionable intent walked about, stepping over the homeless and passing graffiti as they went. They had filled littered the streets with debris and rubble of countless sorts.
It was not just a ghetto. Buildings were rundown with gang signs painted on any empty wall or fence. I swallowed fear and kept pressing on.
I looked like a victim waiting to happen, and Bruce appeared too docile to protect me. We were certain to be targets under the night sky—an apex-predator’s dream.
“This can’t be safe,” I said.
“I cannot be safe?” asked Bruce.
“This environment,” I answered, “and yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”
He stared at me as we walked, but I would not acknowledge it. I needed to get my head right. Terror of my surroundings was sidetracking me.
The neighborhood was semi-industrial. Some buildings had their doors and windows boarded up, others were abandoned and left to rot. Dread moved in to occupy the remaining. Life had drained whatever fragments of happiness the few people on the streets once had. It was a depressing sight. Alarmingly so.
