across from the bed. A scratchy sound that made her stomach growl. The air in the room changed from a soapy smell to something else...toast? Coffee? Any change was special and must be appreciated. She let the smell float around awhile. If she ate the food, the smell would go away. But if she waited too long, the tray would be removed, and she would be hungry.
She put bare feet on a cold, tiled floor. The floor was not white. The floor was gray. She squinted at the edges where the white stopped and the gray began. The gray was important to her because it was not white. Her pants were white. Her shirt was the palest shade of blue. Sometimes her shirt was another color. Once it was pink. That had been a big surprise. It made her think of things that she couldn’t bring to mind today. It made her want something. Her shirts were never pink anymore.
She shuffled over to the lavatory on rubber legs. Toilet, shower, sink, toothbrush. She named each thing carefully before using them, proud to remember their names. Walls, ceiling, bed, tray. She rattled off all the items allowed in her world.
Who allowed?
That was another thought that she wasn’t sure she knew the answer to. Her parents? Parents. What were parents?
She sat on the chair in front of the shelf and put food into her mouth. She was pretty sure she had parents. Two of them. A man and a woman. They were important. Not like gray was important, or saying the names of things. But she couldn’t remember why they were important. There were a lot of things she couldn’t remember. Sometimes things floated up in her mind, and she had no idea where they came from.
Little triangles of yellow on her plate were sweet. She liked sweet. Not every tray had sweet. They were tart. She looked for the name along the gray of the floor. Apple? No, pineapple. The smell was a memory. She closed her eyes. Blue sky and yellow sand. A pounding sound that came from water...no, ocean. It was the ocean. And her skin was hot and smelled of coconut. An old ache of longing rose in her. But she didn’t know what to pine for. Was it the ocean? Did she ache to see that blue sky and blue water? But it didn’t make sense. She had always been here inside the white walls with the gray floor. Across the sand, a voice called, like the birds that swooped above her. Birds, gulls, seagulls. The voice said her name, and she remembered it. Melissa.
Chapter 15
“Biobots soon became a political nightmare. Unions were against them for replacing workers. The Human Rights organizations were apoplectic over the insinuations that these creatures were not human. Definitions varied wildly. The industry insisted that since a biobot was not grown in the womb and birthed from a woman, it was not a person.”
History of a Changed World , Angus T. Moss
Wisp heard a motor kick over and felt Nick’s lurch of alarm.
“The van!” Nick spun back to the path.
Wisp grabbed his arm. “The van isn’t over there. It’s a different vehicle. The prisoners are leaving.”
“We need to stop them.” Jean shone the flashlight across the debris piles. She was searching for a way toward the sound of the engine. Her fear and disgust were so high, Wisp wondered how she could form a lucid thought.
“Why?” Wisp touched her shoulder to stop her. “The prisoners don’t trust us. They’re fearful and angry. They have taken their children and left.”
“ Their children?” Nick demanded. “You’re sure?”
“The children went willingly. The adults think only of the children’s safety.” Wisp could feel the confusion in Jean. She so badly wanted to fix something. “They are better off seeking their own kind. The woods here have many small communities. They will be with people who want to care for them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick barked. He was angry at the situation and relieved not to be responsible for these people and oddly, angry at his relief. His emotions flickered so fast,
She put bare feet on a cold, tiled floor. The floor was not white. The floor was gray. She squinted at the edges where the white stopped and the gray began. The gray was important to her because it was not white. Her pants were white. Her shirt was the palest shade of blue. Sometimes her shirt was another color. Once it was pink. That had been a big surprise. It made her think of things that she couldn’t bring to mind today. It made her want something. Her shirts were never pink anymore.
She shuffled over to the lavatory on rubber legs. Toilet, shower, sink, toothbrush. She named each thing carefully before using them, proud to remember their names. Walls, ceiling, bed, tray. She rattled off all the items allowed in her world.
Who allowed?
That was another thought that she wasn’t sure she knew the answer to. Her parents? Parents. What were parents?
She sat on the chair in front of the shelf and put food into her mouth. She was pretty sure she had parents. Two of them. A man and a woman. They were important. Not like gray was important, or saying the names of things. But she couldn’t remember why they were important. There were a lot of things she couldn’t remember. Sometimes things floated up in her mind, and she had no idea where they came from.
Little triangles of yellow on her plate were sweet. She liked sweet. Not every tray had sweet. They were tart. She looked for the name along the gray of the floor. Apple? No, pineapple. The smell was a memory. She closed her eyes. Blue sky and yellow sand. A pounding sound that came from water...no, ocean. It was the ocean. And her skin was hot and smelled of coconut. An old ache of longing rose in her. But she didn’t know what to pine for. Was it the ocean? Did she ache to see that blue sky and blue water? But it didn’t make sense. She had always been here inside the white walls with the gray floor. Across the sand, a voice called, like the birds that swooped above her. Birds, gulls, seagulls. The voice said her name, and she remembered it. Melissa.
Chapter 15
“Biobots soon became a political nightmare. Unions were against them for replacing workers. The Human Rights organizations were apoplectic over the insinuations that these creatures were not human. Definitions varied wildly. The industry insisted that since a biobot was not grown in the womb and birthed from a woman, it was not a person.”
History of a Changed World , Angus T. Moss
Wisp heard a motor kick over and felt Nick’s lurch of alarm.
“The van!” Nick spun back to the path.
Wisp grabbed his arm. “The van isn’t over there. It’s a different vehicle. The prisoners are leaving.”
“We need to stop them.” Jean shone the flashlight across the debris piles. She was searching for a way toward the sound of the engine. Her fear and disgust were so high, Wisp wondered how she could form a lucid thought.
“Why?” Wisp touched her shoulder to stop her. “The prisoners don’t trust us. They’re fearful and angry. They have taken their children and left.”
“ Their children?” Nick demanded. “You’re sure?”
“The children went willingly. The adults think only of the children’s safety.” Wisp could feel the confusion in Jean. She so badly wanted to fix something. “They are better off seeking their own kind. The woods here have many small communities. They will be with people who want to care for them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick barked. He was angry at the situation and relieved not to be responsible for these people and oddly, angry at his relief. His emotions flickered so fast,
Similar Books
