Biocide, page 9
part #2 of Adaline Series
71 patted the Boy on his head. “Just keep trying; you'll get it. What were you doing before I interrupted you?”
62 flopped down on the lush green poa pratensis and eased his body deep into the bending blades. “I was enjoying not being in pain for a little while.”
71 eased himself down beside 62. “Is your shoulder still bothering you? It seems like it should be nearly healed by now.”
62 gave a grim nod. “Yeah. Getting in trouble with that Bird Boy screwed it up again. I guess I fell on it pretty hard when they gassed me. It dislocated again. A doctor popped it back into its socket, but now it hurts more than ever.”
71's eyebrows danced on his forehead. “What Bird Boy?”
62 rolled over onto his side to face 71. He could hardly contain his excitement. “I met a Boy who calls himself Bird. He has eyes that are bright blue. I've never seen anything like it before. I asked him if he was a bluebird like the one you dream about and he told me he doesn't sing.”
62 grinned as he recounted his mistake of trying to get the PTS to take him out for a walk, and then meeting Bird in the hall. With arms waving and heart pumping, he didn't notice 71's face fall in worry.
“You shouldn't have done that,” 71 uttered at the close of the tale.
62 frowned. “I wanted to get out so I could keep up with the rest of the Boys. I don't want to fall behind.”
“I understand that. Here, in your dreams, it’s safe for you to come up with those ideas on your own. But in Adaline...” The Man's voice drifted off and he shook his head. His eyes drifted away and he stared at the distant horizon as he formed his next words. “Bird will only bring you more trouble. Stay away from him.”
62 inched closer to his teacher. “You know him. Who is he?”
71 closed his eyes against 62's questioning gaze. “He's a desperate child. He has a screw loose and has been lucky enough to not get caught. Otherwise, he’s nothing special. You'd do well to forget him.”
“But he doesn't have a number. And the walls didn't scan him. That seems pretty special.” 62 nodded in agreement with himself.
71's eyes flew open. They burned with fury. “His kind are a blight on Adaline. They are dangerous and put into jeopardy everything that we’ve worked to preserve. They say that they want to protect those of us who have the spark of creativity, but then they tear down our systems and steal from us. Your little friend is a thief.”
The Man's warnings only made 62 more curious. “There are more like him?”
71's lips pursed. A pregnant pause filled the air before the Man nodded. “There are.”
62 lay down on his back and stared up at the deep blue ceiling high above him. “I thought you told us in class that thieves were extinct? That the laws of our Community and planned career systems eradicated them.”
“I did. It's a part of our mandated curriculum.” The Man closed his eyes again and his voice rasped. “It's a lie.”
CHAPTER 21
62 watched his brothers run through the open door toward the training arena for what felt like the hundredth time. He rubbed his injured shoulder with his off hand and closed his eyes when the muscles responded with a deep ache. The PTS had noted a reduction in inflammation but said that it would likely be another several cycles before he could be released to training again. The improvement had initially raised 62's spirits, but as the last sound of pounding feet faded into the distance it seemed like his medical restriction would never end.
As he had every morning since his renewed injury, 62 began to pace his cube. He felt like if he were let loose he could run to the very edge of Adaline. Instead, he was reduced to the steady seven step walk from one end of his cube to the other. It would take nearly a hundred passes before he’d feel a tingle of exertion in his body. He picked up the tempo, pushing himself to complete the task in less time than it had taken the cycle before.
After a while his body began to suck air in more hungrily. His lungs pushed it out in harsh bursts. 62 fought to steady his breath. Though the pulse of his heartbeat against his chest made him feel less useless, he knew that if he exerted himself too much the PTS would come in and try to make him lay down to rest. It was a battle he knew that he’d lose, so he slowed his steps again and waited for the quick thumping of his heart to quiet.
When the drum of rushing blood quieted in his ears, he noticed a tiny scratching noise. 62 stopped mid-stride, trying to figure out where the quiet squeak and whine came from. He cast a glance through the window of his door and didn't see any movement from the PTS. He held his breath and cupped his hand to his ear. The sound stopped. 62 put his hands on his hips. “Weird.”
62 started a fresh trip across the cube. He was just about to turn on his heel for the short trek back to the front of the cubicle when he heard the noise again. It squeaked like metal sliding against metal. When he looked up at the vent where the sleep fog blew into his cube he thought he saw a shadow pass over the opening. “What the dust?”
The vent holes were suddenly covered. White fabric pressed against the opening. A muffled grunt came from the other side of the wall, and a loud bang against the grate made 62 jump. When the white fabric disappeared, so did the metal grating that filled the vent. A moment passed, and Bird's face filled the opening. “Hey, there.”
62 blinked. He didn't know what to do, so he waved with his good hand. “Hi.”
“You got any bots in there?” Bird pressed his eye and cheek against the opening. His eye rolled quickly through its socket as he peered into each corner of the room.
“Not right now. But I don't know when the PTS will be back.” 62 shook his head to knock his stunned thoughts loose. “What are you doing in there?”
Bird laughed. “I took a few lessons recently. Became a Maintenance Man. See?” The Boy pulled his face from the hole and stuck an arm through, proudly waving a screwdriver around in his fist. The arm disappeared and the shadowed face returned. “Had to come down here to help out a couple of friends and figured I'd do you a favor while I was at it.”
“A favor?” 62 climbed up on the end of his bed to try to get a better look through the opening.
Bird's face dipped away from the vent again and he pushed a ribbed hose up where 62 could see it. A gaping hole, ragged and uneven, broke the otherwise flawless hose. He pulled the ruined duct back so that he could peer through again. “Now when they try to gas ya, most of that green is going to fall right back here in the maintenance hatch. Just enough will come through that you'll know you're supposed to get in bed and lie there a while. Ain't that neat?”
62 pulled himself back down to the mattress. “This is really bad, Bird. You're messing with the fog system.”
Bird's bright smile faded. “I knocked out your night-night gas. Why ain't you happy about that?”
“What am I going to do when someone finds out?” 62 shook his head. “I’m in a lot of trouble as it is. What will they do to me then?”
Bird snorted. “All you numbered kids are the same. Don't know a good thing even if it jumps up and bites ya. Shoot, nobody's gonna notice that anything's wrong with it 'less some tool jockey is back here when the smoke goes off. And then he won't know what’s wrong until he wakes up after.”
62 wasn't convinced. “Bird, why did you want to do all that, anyway? Aren't you afraid of getting caught?”
“Those bots ain't caught me yet, and I've been comin' down here for a while. Don't think they know how to figure out what I'm up to.” The wide smile beamed for a second, then faded back into the darkness again. Bird's eye came back into view and he looked down at 62 thoughtfully. “Didn't I tell you that my friends call me Blue?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I wouldn't go to this kinda trouble for just anybody, you know. That means we're friends.”
62 cocked his head. “We're already brothers. What makes being friends worth more trouble?”
Bird's eye rolled sarcastically. “Don't you know nothin'? Friends are better than brothers. Friends are people you choose to trust. You ain't just following orders because some bot tells you to. You see a friend needs help, and you do something about it because you want to.”
62 pondered the concept of friendship. Three quick raps sounded somewhere farther up the maintenance shaft. Blue shrugged his shoulders. “Time's up. I gotta go. So are we friends, or what?”
62 nodded. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
Bird pulled his face away from the hole and his arm filled the gap again. He shoved his arm through the gap toward 62. His fingers wriggled in the air a moment and his muffled voice called down, “Go on, shake it.”
62 stood back up on the mattress and reached out to shake Blue's hand. “It's good to have a friend, Blue.”
When their hands released, the grating went gently back over the opening. The small squeak of metal screws reattaching the ductwork filled the cubicle for a moment and then the air went still again.
CHAPTER 22
The time finally came for the bandages to be removed. 62 asked to walk to the medical center for the final check of his shoulder, but the bots pushed him down onto a gurney for the trip anyway. The procedure only took a few minutes. The doctor's notations on the chart took longer than the exam. Once wheeled back to the pods, 62 leaped from the gurney and rushed over to the PTS.
“The doctor says I can go back to training.” He nearly shouted the words, holding back only enough to keep from getting in trouble.
“I have reviewed your records. You may resume physical activity.” The PTS flashed a green smile. “Are you happy?”
“Very.” 62 raised his arm above his head and waved it in a big circle, rotating his shoulder in its socket. “It feels good to be back in action.”
“You'll start with the others during the next cycle. It will be difficult for you to keep up, but I have sent instructions to meter your involvement.”
62 shook his head as he walked towards his cube. He stopped in front of the door and looked at the Machine that followed him like a worried Nurse. “I'll try to take it easy, but I'm ready for anything.”
“I am sure you are.” The PTS's face ebbed from cheerful green to a cautionary yellow. “Before you can begin, there is a Man waiting in the cube for you.”
“What Man?” 62 moved to the side of the door and peeked around the edge of the glass window.
“The same one who came to interview you after the incident with your second injury.”
The Boy nodded at the Machine. “Thanks for letting me know.”
The PTS moved around 62 and opened the door for him. “Please let me know if you require any assistance. Congratulations again on your return to optimal health.”
62 entered and stopped just inside the door. The Man reclined in a hover chair, tapping on a tablet while he waited. It was several seconds before he closed the program he was running and turned his attention away from the device.
“Hello, again.” The Man got up from the chair and gave a false smile. “Good to see you up and about. This time with proper escorts.”
“What do you want?” 62 glanced up at the gas vent at the top of the wall. It looked perfectly normal. No hint that it had been tampered with. He felt his tense shoulders lower just a bit. Hopefully the Man didn't know.
“I heard that you were about to be released back into training.” The Man pulled a small recording device from his pocket. “I wanted to congratulate you on your recovery and see if you had any more information for me.”
“Thanks. I don't know what kind of information you want.”
“I want to talk to you about the Boy who you were seen with when you tried to escape–”
“When I tried to go for a walk,” 62 corrected.
“Yes, well. Whatever you claim to have been doing. That Boy was seen in the area around these pods a few cycles ago, just before a large number of uniforms went missing.” The Man paused, waiting for the weight of his implied accusation to sink in. “You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?”
62 glanced back to the gas vent. He realized his mistake and moved his gaze up to the ceiling. “I don't know anything about any uniforms.”
“I see,” the Man nodded. “And the Boy?”
“Nobody’s been in this cube except you, me and the PTS.” 62 pointed over his shoulder to the eavesdropping Machine just outside the door.
“You sure about that?”
62 nodded once, silent.
The Man sighed and moved toward the door, pausing to pat 62 on the shoulder as he passed by. “Fine. Make sure it stays that way. It would be a shame for us to lose such a talented Boy due to poorly placed loyalties.”
“I'm loyal to Adaline and the Community,” 62 parroted the words mindlessly. An automatic response after a lifetime of instruction.
CHAPTER 23
62 panted hard as he lumbered up the steps after his brothers. With the blurred vision of exhaustion, he could hardly make out the bottom of the Boy's feet ahead of him before they disappeared over the top step. He pushed himself up a few more treads, then tripped and landed on his knees. He rolled to his side and lay across the stairs.
“Doing all right?” Trainer appeared upside-down as he leaned over 62's head. He put his hands around the Boy and pulled him upright.
“Yeah.” 62 gasped between breaths. “I'll be fine.”
Trainer nodded once. “I know you will be. But it'll take more than a couple of cycles for you to catch up. We've been pushing it hard while you were out.” The Man's gaze crossed the far end of the arena where the fastest of the Boys had already begun descending the distant staircase. He helped 62 to his feet. “Come on. It's about time for a break.”
62 dragged his heels as he followed Trainer back down the stairs. His shoulders slouched more from embarrassment than fatigue. Trainer jogged down to the arena floor quickly, meeting the first Boy in the group of runners. He held his hand up to stop the flow of the group and soon the Man was surrounded by bobbing heads and waving arms as the trainees began a cooldown stretch.
Trainer was halfway through a pep talk by the time 62 made it within earshot.
“... Not one of you stopped to make sure that your brother was all right.” Trainer moved his gaze slowly over the flushed cheeks of his subordinates.
One of the Boys smirked at 62. “We're not really supposed to slow down for him are we?”
Trainer extended his arm and waved his hand to beckon 62 forward. He smiled at 62 when he was within arm's reach and placed an arm around his slim shoulders. “This is a tricky lesson to learn. If you were a Machine, then I would say to absolutely keep on going.”
With his free hand, Trainer reached forward and pinched the arm of the Boy who'd made the snarky remark. The Boy yelped at the sharp pain. “Since we’re not Machines, we have a responsibility to take care of one another. This will be especially important for any of you who move on to Defense and Maintenance. There is an immense amount of time, energy and supplies invested to train and keep us alive. Losing one Man is costly for the whole Community. When you’re working, if your brother falls and you fail to pick him up and return him safely home to his pod, you are responsible for his loss.”
Trainer's words hung in the air. A cloud of emotion passed over his face and in a gravelly voice he added, “Believe me, the loss of a brother is not a debt you want to have to repay.” The solemn expression only lasted a moment. Trainer soon smiled again. “Now, everyone get hydrated. We're going to take five more minutes to catch our breaths, and then we're heading to the high jump.”
The Boys dispersed, each heading to his own pile of towels and hydration packs. 62 wanted to ask Trainer more about what he meant when he talked about owing Adaline for the debt of a fallen brother. But when he turned to ask, Trainer pulled his arm from 62's shoulders and jogged off the field and out of sight.
CHAPTER 24
62 collapsed onto his bed. The last few training sessions had taken every ounce of his energy and he was glad that Trainer had given them the next two cycles off to rest. His tired muscles sank into the soft blankets. He didn't even have the energy to change into a clean tunic before drifting off to sleep.
As soon as the real world faded away, it was replaced by a vision of the arena. 62 stood alone in the vast space. His muscles flexed, ribbons of strength beneath his skin. Without a thought to the pain he’d suffered from when awake, 62 took off running. He leaped over abandoned exercise equipment, bounded up the stairs and was about to sprint across the upper track when he heard hands clapping from the bleachers below. Without fear of losing his balance, 62 skidded to a stop and beamed at 71.
“You are a vision of athletic performance!” 71 shouted across the space. 62 jumped in the air and flew across the arena on an invisible current, landing softly at 71's feet.
“It's a lot easier when you can just imagine that you’re the best at everything.” 62 sat down in the seat beside 71, his breath calm and steady.
“Of course. If only the rest of Adaline were so simple. Perhaps we wouldn't have so many problems.” 71 pondered his own words while 62 pressed his hands together and created a cold hydration pouch out of thin air. “Of course, if everyone could create exactly what they wanted, maybe there would be even more annoyances to deal with.”
“If you could have anything that you wanted, what would it be?”
“More time to sleep. The possibilities are endless in here.” 71 tapped his temple with his forefinger. “Fewer Machines around telling me what I should pay attention to.”
62 nodded. He looked at his former teacher and sputtered, “Well, Blue seems like he doesn't have any Machines telling him what to do.”
71 squinted, eyebrows knitting on his forehead. “Oh, his name is Blue now? What do you know of this Blue Boy and his interaction with Machines?”
“Well I think if any of the Transportation Aides could boss him around, they’d keep him out of the supply areas. I don’t think they're helping him to steal uniforms.”
