Kit

Eleanora was in the kitchen when I returned. She sat on the counter, her laptop balancing precariously on her legs. Jake also took up space in the kitchen, cooking or mixing something. Their momentary coexistence was an unexpected relief in a moment I felt so chaotic.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing something right now?" Eleanora asked without looking up from her screen.

"Is Victor around?" I asked, ignoring her question.

"He's outback molesting to the tomatoes," Jake said, while stirring a bowl of something intensely. I wished I could smell whatever it was.

Ele scoffed. "He's not molesting them. He's putting cages around them."

"How long has he been out there?"

"Not too long, we just helped set him up out there. Why are you even here right now?" Eleanora asked, finally looking up.

"I have to get into Dead World. Or we have to stop it. Whichever is easier," I said. Eleanora closed her laptop and stared at me with accusatory eyes. Even Jake stopped stirring to look at me. Then, a slow smile invaded Ele's face.

"Now we're talking," she purred. Jake's face flickered to disgust.

"Um, why the hell would you do that now?" Jake asked, setting down his mixing bowl. I peered inside to analyze the mess of brown, some sort of batter for a baked good.

Eleanora shushed Jake. "There's no need for questions. When do we go? Now?"

"They took her, Ele. The girl. She's in Dead World now."

She silenced, slid her laptop away from her and hopped off the counter. Her fists pressed into her hips as she twisted and scrunched her lips, thinking.

"Well, this changes our plans. When did this happen?"

"I saw the van just this morning. They took her away and I followed them across town to the facility. I had to convince myself every mile not to ram Lucinda's car into the back of the van and stop them."

"Damn," Jake said.

"I'm glad you didn't," Eleanora said softly. It was like she could sense the irritation that plagued my face, the fear in my tone. The panic that possessed me.

"But does it really make sense for you to join the race? It's not like you're a qualified contestant. They blood check everyone that gets in there and identify you by a number. There's no way you'll get in. Maybe I should go..." Jake suggested and trailed.

"Absolutely not," I spat.

"Now let's not be hasty, Kit. Maybe he should go," Eleanora said with a bold look, pleased with the thought of Jake out of the house.

"No, I'm not putting you in that danger," I said to Jake. "Besides, no human has ever won the race and...I'm not human."

"This is brilliant," Eleanora said with enthusiasm. "It'll take a bit of preparation—a crunch considering how close the race is. But we can sneak him in, create a fake identity or maybe even use your number. Just requires a little bit of magic."

"I trust your work, Ele," I said, knowing it would flatter her. She smiled wickedly, but it couldn't reach me. Terror bubbled inside me.

"Great," she trilled and picked her laptop back up, her fingers already typing away.

"We'll need to make sure the profile pulls up all the requirements for a Dead World applicant. Look through Godwin's files and see what they scan for, what skills appealed to the pool they were looking for," I instructed.

I walked over to her and looked at her screen. She was already hacking into the city's system and browsing through identities. "Should we go with a dead number or maybe..." She drew and peek at Jake, at the six numbers on his throat. "How would you like to be 964103?"

Jake gazed at us with suspicion. "My number?"

"Sure, you barely use it," she said.

"We can use his blood too," I murmured.

"Brilliant."

"Do I have any say in this?" Jake asked.

"No," Eleanora and I said at the same time.

I watched her click through screens until she found Jake in the system and rewrote a few details about height and eye color. She even added my picture to it, one from a decades ago. She merged us together, and suddenly Jake wasn't even Jake anymore. By putting me in the system, Eleanora was freeing Jake in a way too. I assumed his identity, which gave him discernible autonomy now.

Still I couldn't help but feel sad, couldn't help the displeasure on my face. Lying to other androids would be no issue, Ele's work was perfect, inscrutable. But I might never see my family again. For the first time in a while, the future was exceptionally unsure.

Eleanora put her cold fingers on my face and slapped them against my cheeks. It was gentle by her standards.

"Cheer up, buttercup."

......

That evening, Jake drove Lucinda's car, Eleanora sat in the front seat and I sat in the back, my hand out the open window feeling the breeze roll between my fingers. The sun started its descent over the mountains, golden beams streaking against the city. I enjoyed the lingering warmth of it, the sunny embrace on my artificial skin, coating it with rays and charging my internal batteries. I took in a deep breath, savoring the air around me, the fresh breeze and the rich leather of the seats. Eleanora sprawled in the passenger seat, her feet on the dash, singing along to whatever Jake had put on the radio, something noisy and dated.

We pulled into an alley a few blocks from the race center. Jake sighed as he put the car into park and turned begrudgingly toward Eleanora. She sifted through a familiar black bag on her lap until she pulled out a small plastic baggy and a scalpel from sterile wrapping. She grabbed Jake's hand without permission and ran the blade over his forefinger. He yelped when blood started to seep from the clean cut. Eleanora collected it in the small baggy, her fingers pressing the sides of the pad, eliciting more blood to pour. Once the bag was mostly full, she put a strip of super glue over the cut and a bandaid.

"Thanks," Jake mumbled, sarcasm deep in his words.

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. "Your turn."

I ran a finger down my right forearm, tracing the artificial veins to the crease of my wrist where I pressed in two quickly pulses. My hand opened on its own accord, the skin of my palm splitting to expose wires and the metal structure of my bones. I followed the seam of the opening all the way up my pointer finger until it splayed open as well. Eleanora shoved the small plastic bag of blood into the pad between some wires and then laid the skin back over it. I pinched my skin back into place then I pressed my wrist with my thumb, just once, and my forearm and palm sealed closed. The little baggy felt weird in my finger, a foreign object that my systems desperately wanted to reject, but it was tolerable, more irritation than discomfort.

"This will work?" I clarified with Eleanora.

"Of course," she said. "They prick your finger once for a DNA match to your number and then, boom that it. No one will be any wiser to the truth, just the three of us. And the girl, I suppose if you choose to tell her."

My face turned away. "I don't know if I should."

"That's probably for the best. Though if she figures out, she might be pissed," Jake said.

Eleanora decided the conversation was over by opening the passenger door. I followed her, stopping by Jake's open window and leaning my arms on the door.

"Take care of my father. Please."

"Of course, Kit. He's like a dad to me as well," Jake promised. I watched Eleanora grow irritated and tossed my chin toward her.

"Take care of her as well. I know she annoys the piss out of you-"

"HEY!" Eleanora protested.

Ignoring her, I continued, "But she can be useful."

"Right," Jake said with an eye roll. I scrubbed my hand through his messy hair and joined Eleanora on the sidewalk.

"Goodbye hug?" I offered with open arms.

Instead, she punched me in the stomach and laughed. "Come on, I'm looking forward to this charade."

Eleanora practically skipped across the street, skirting just around the impending structure of the Dead World facility. If I was human, I'd be sweating or crying or something more dramatic, a real physiological response. Instead, my feet were even in their steps and my hands did not tremble a tick. Eleanora walked ahead of me, glancing back at me every so often with that wicked smile. I wished she wouldn't enjoy this so damn much, but she's always thrilled by acting and my demise.

I trailed behind her by a few feet as she led us into the busting square, waiting to descend into the largest part of the crowd, the biggest audience. It was rush hour, too. All the androids were speeding home from their daily duties or obligations. But we would make them notice us.

Eleanora paused and waited for me to walk in front of her. Once I was in position, she shoved my shoulder with excessive force.

"Come on, maggot! Stop dragging your feet," she seethed. I turned around to catch her eye in disbelief. Her wicked smile gone, replaced with hatred eating her features. A few androids watched us suspiciously, committing our features to memory in case we needed to be reported. Me, dressed in gray human garb and Eleanora, in a striking suit coated with vibrant hearts. Colors poured over her dark skin and illuminated each detail of her perfection, while I was washed out. The lack of color didn't bother me, just the concept that these clothes were not my own.

"You can enjoy yourself a little less," I muttered quiet enough for only Ele to hear. She stepped on the back of my shoe in response.

"I've had enough!" I yelled and shoved her as hard as I could. She didn't fall back, but stumbled into the crowd for effect. A passerby looked irritated, but not scared. So I had to turn it up. I took in a steadying breath, leaped two steps and crashed into Eleanora. It was enough force to send both of us to the ground. I pinned her beneath me and smashed a hand over her face. She took it gracefully, shrieking and feigning fear. If we were at home, she'd already have me torn to pieces, but I was in control as I repeatedly tried to smash her face until androids ripped me away from her. I thrashed and screamed for good measure, using a fraction of my strength to resist their grasp. Eleanora rose quickly, dusting herself off and pretending to cry as androids around her asked her if she was okay, if they should call for authorities.

It was too late. Three big-armed droids were heading toward me, parting through the crowd with rage. They seized me from the androids that held me hostage.

"Citizen! Identify!" The droid yelled. I pulled the collar of my coat down arrogantly, letting them get a look at the new digits. The droid paused to verify the newly tattooed number on my throat. It would last in my skin for about two weeks before my systems repaired the pigmentation. The process didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable to have Eleanora sit on my chest with a sewing needle and pen ink. When she finished I threw her off of me a little too hard and she ended up crashing into a side table. Thankfully, Victor's old age didn't help his hearing and he never came to see the cause of such a commotion. Jake laughed from across the room until she silenced him with a glare.

The droid scanned through his internal database and found my edited profile. His face altered as he read my previous charges (thanks to Eleanora's perfect additions) and then paused before giving me the sentence.

In the lifetime it took for the droid to speak, I reflected on my last conversation with my father.

As promised, I found Victor in the garden, his fingers twisting around tomato branches with twine. He wore a wide-brimmed sunhat and sunglasses, a splotch of ancient sunscreen on his nose. That must've been Ele's touch. I watched him from the porch. Gardening was a hobby for him before, but now he did it out of necessity, to provide fresh food for himself and Jake.

He didn't hear me approach, but he noticed my shadow.

"How did it go?"

"I learned quite a bit," I shrugged and folded to the ground next to him. "How are the tomatoes?"

"Fickle," Victor chuckled. "This weather is far too harsh for them." A small breeze crossed over us. "Are you troubled about something, son?"

I wasn't. I felt oddly calm with what was about to happen. But I tried to push the thought away that this was the last conversation I would have for Victor for an unseeable amount of time. Maybe the last conversation we would have. Ever.

"When you miss your wife and son, do you let yourself think of them?" I asked.

"Most of the time, yes. Though sometimes it causes me so much pain that it's best to move on, to not be trapped by the sadness. To feel and let go," he said.

"I wished I knew how to do that. To let go. Sometimes, I worry I feel too much, that I can't just let anything go," I admitted, strange defeat in my words.

"That's been my fear for you as well, son. That you've always felt too much. I wondered if it was my fault or maybe just your programming. But I think it's just because you're special. One of a kind with a heart that demands to feel."

"I don't know how you can speak so highly of me considering what I have done to this world," I said, hanging my head.

"This world is not your mistake, but mine. And Hank's. And a slew of other people. But a creature should never apologize for being made. You didn't choose this."

"But it is my responsibility to fix it," I reminded him.

"I would never ask you to sacrifice yourself or your happiness to right my wrongs. You are so much better than me in so many ways, sometimes I don't realize when I ask too much of you."

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"Perhaps I should've asked Eleanora to find the shark," Victor murmured, though it didn't comfort me.

"The girl is a challenge," I admitted, but then continued, "But she is something, Victor."

Silence passed between us before I whispered, "If only you could see her."

He smiled and patted my shoulder.

"I hope she's everything we dreamed of." He paused. "Is that all that is on your mind, son?" Victor asked, squinting at me.

"No," I said. "I must leave."

Victor chuckled before asking, "Where will you go?"

"To Dead World. To follow the girl," I said, closing my eyes and waiting for Victor to speak. Instead, he sighed, dusted off his hands and rose from his knees. He grabbed his basket of tomatoes that he had plucked and motioned for a path toward the tool shed. I escorted him silently, my hands against his shoulders, supporting the majority of his weight.

"You would risk your life for her? Everything you have built here?" Victor asked, the guilt ate through me despite his sincerity.

"I'm confused...it was your idea that I pursue this shark thing. Besides, what do I have here? We are prisoners under Godwin, being watched. This is no life worth living," I said, shocked by voicing such blatantly dark feelings, but the truth was overwhelming.

"Please don't be confused. I am glad that you will accept a duty in order to bring back balance, but do not think for a moment that I do not still value your life, your wishes. I merely wish for you to know fully what you are about to do, know fully in your heart what it means to pursue someone of her nature...someone that is your antithesis," Victor spoke thoughtfully.

"I have considered that, yes. But the reason we are here in the first place is because of someone like me. I cannot sit back and watch humans suffer under Godwin's regime. I can't watch those godforsaken races anymore," I exclaimed.

"Just because you are part of the affliction, does not mean you bear its entire weight," Victor said and handed me a ripe tomato. "A plant is more than just the fruit it produces."

I held the tomato in my hand, analyzing the perfect red hue all the way around until I found one yellow spot that reminded me of an exploding solar eclipse. Yet again, I wished Victor would stop speaking to me in his riddles.

"I wish you luck on your journey," Victor said, washing his tomatoes with the garden hose. "Though I will miss you greatly."

He features were decimated as he spoke. I knew what he knew: this was likely the last time we would see each other. I had no idea how Dead World was going to unfold, I was sure only of the dedication to the girl. Then, there was the audible wheeze of fluid that was filling Victor's lungs, the loud sputter of his heart beating through its slow failure. When he stopped washing, I wrapped my arms gently around his fragile shoulders.

"I'll miss you, too. Love you, Dad," I said. At the time I thought I was saying that merely for his sake, that he needed to hear the verbalization of my affection. But since I've realized that it was more than that. Speaking those words put them into the air, put them into the universe and made them real.

I thought about the look on my father's face when the android spoke.

"Dead World."