scars.
Mariam was twelve years old, with coal-black hair, dark eyebrows and a slim, athletic body. She liked to keep her hair tied back, but sometimes Axon wanted her to let it blow around her face, and mostly she did, unless she was in a mood, which was usually because Victor had told her she was stupid.
Usually she was forbidden to go near the tanks, but today was Axon’s Layer Day and she was smart enough to know that they didn’t want her there for the fun of it. She walked down the slope over the perfect grass towards the white domes of the tanks, her flip-flops smacking against her heels and the light almost too bright to bear.
“What will it be like, Mariam? ” asked the soft voice in her head.
“I don’t know. I will be with you.”
“Will it hurt?”
“I don’t know. If it hurts you, it will hurt me.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Who taught you afraid?”
“Victor.”
“Is Victor afraid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not.”
“Is there time for swimming?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Are you afraid, Axon?”
“I’m trying. I know it, but I can’t feel it.”
The gate in the electric fence around the tanks opened, and Mariam walked in, head high, but very scared. Her twin, Victor, was already standing on the concourse beside the nearest of the mushroom-like buildings, shading his eyes from the intense light. Mariam was tanned and lithe. Victor was paler, heavier, disliked physical activity, but they were still clearly identical twins. Axon sometimes jokingly called them Exo and Endo – she was a child of the wind and the waves, and Victor was a more cerebral cave-dweller.
“Hi,” said Victor. This in itself was unusual. Normally they communicated through a private gateway they shared in the Axon interface. But today was different – very different. It was Layer Day.
A door in the mushroom-dome’s sixty-foot stem slid open and their foster mother, Julia, beckoned them in.
All the adults they knew were in the conference room, and several they had never seen before. Nobody was smiling as they took their seats. It felt as though they’d failed an exam or been caught stealing.
“Don’t worry, Axon,” she thought. Silence. She looked at Victor and thought “Can you get Axon?” He shook his head.
Director Somerton stood up and came to sit beside them. “During this phase we have to cut your link to Axon,” he said. “This is just a precaution.”
“Against what?” Victor asked, in his belligerent way.
Somerton ignored Victor’s tone, and went on: “This is a critical stage. I will be honest with you – you’re both growing up fast and you have a right to know. There have sometimes been complications. It’s better for you if we play safe. So we’re going to put you in a light sleep for the next few hours and slowly bring back the link when we think it’s safe, which I’m sure it will be.”
Victor started to say something, but Mariam shushed him quiet. “I refuse,” she said.
Somerton was momentarily shocked, but then recovered and said, “I’m sorry, Mariam. I don’t quite understand you.”
She was quivering, finding it hard to breathe, but she forced the words out. “I will not be cut off from Axon. I will not be put to sleep.”
“Why?”
She stood up and ran out of the room. The outside doors slid aside and she kept on running until she reached the gate through the perimeter fence. It wouldn’t open. She stood there, staring out at the grass, with her hands on the grill, suddenly crying, until a hand stroked her back. Finally she turned, expecting to see Julia. Instead, it was Victor.
“I suppose they sent you!” she shouted.
“No,” said Victor. “I decided I agree.”
Inside, Somerton paced around the room. “The culture is ready,” he said. “We must proceed.”
Normally, Julia was silent in meetings. She was tiny, beak-nosed, like a small bird, but now she stood up and said, “No.” She marched up to the much taller figure of
Mariam was twelve years old, with coal-black hair, dark eyebrows and a slim, athletic body. She liked to keep her hair tied back, but sometimes Axon wanted her to let it blow around her face, and mostly she did, unless she was in a mood, which was usually because Victor had told her she was stupid.
Usually she was forbidden to go near the tanks, but today was Axon’s Layer Day and she was smart enough to know that they didn’t want her there for the fun of it. She walked down the slope over the perfect grass towards the white domes of the tanks, her flip-flops smacking against her heels and the light almost too bright to bear.
“What will it be like, Mariam? ” asked the soft voice in her head.
“I don’t know. I will be with you.”
“Will it hurt?”
“I don’t know. If it hurts you, it will hurt me.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Who taught you afraid?”
“Victor.”
“Is Victor afraid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not.”
“Is there time for swimming?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Are you afraid, Axon?”
“I’m trying. I know it, but I can’t feel it.”
The gate in the electric fence around the tanks opened, and Mariam walked in, head high, but very scared. Her twin, Victor, was already standing on the concourse beside the nearest of the mushroom-like buildings, shading his eyes from the intense light. Mariam was tanned and lithe. Victor was paler, heavier, disliked physical activity, but they were still clearly identical twins. Axon sometimes jokingly called them Exo and Endo – she was a child of the wind and the waves, and Victor was a more cerebral cave-dweller.
“Hi,” said Victor. This in itself was unusual. Normally they communicated through a private gateway they shared in the Axon interface. But today was different – very different. It was Layer Day.
A door in the mushroom-dome’s sixty-foot stem slid open and their foster mother, Julia, beckoned them in.
All the adults they knew were in the conference room, and several they had never seen before. Nobody was smiling as they took their seats. It felt as though they’d failed an exam or been caught stealing.
“Don’t worry, Axon,” she thought. Silence. She looked at Victor and thought “Can you get Axon?” He shook his head.
Director Somerton stood up and came to sit beside them. “During this phase we have to cut your link to Axon,” he said. “This is just a precaution.”
“Against what?” Victor asked, in his belligerent way.
Somerton ignored Victor’s tone, and went on: “This is a critical stage. I will be honest with you – you’re both growing up fast and you have a right to know. There have sometimes been complications. It’s better for you if we play safe. So we’re going to put you in a light sleep for the next few hours and slowly bring back the link when we think it’s safe, which I’m sure it will be.”
Victor started to say something, but Mariam shushed him quiet. “I refuse,” she said.
Somerton was momentarily shocked, but then recovered and said, “I’m sorry, Mariam. I don’t quite understand you.”
She was quivering, finding it hard to breathe, but she forced the words out. “I will not be cut off from Axon. I will not be put to sleep.”
“Why?”
She stood up and ran out of the room. The outside doors slid aside and she kept on running until she reached the gate through the perimeter fence. It wouldn’t open. She stood there, staring out at the grass, with her hands on the grill, suddenly crying, until a hand stroked her back. Finally she turned, expecting to see Julia. Instead, it was Victor.
“I suppose they sent you!” she shouted.
“No,” said Victor. “I decided I agree.”
Inside, Somerton paced around the room. “The culture is ready,” he said. “We must proceed.”
Normally, Julia was silent in meetings. She was tiny, beak-nosed, like a small bird, but now she stood up and said, “No.” She marched up to the much taller figure of
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