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Right now, it is 9:45 pm. I am sitting in the single chair, looking up at the bed.
I am supposed to put my pajamas on at 9:55 pm.
At 9:47 pm, I put my pajamas on. I climb up into bed. I lie there until the lights go off at 10 pm. Then I sleep.
This is sleep, isn’t it? When you lie in the dark and look at the ceiling and wonder empty thoughts that have no content but feel like yearning? My stomach is churning, and my legs are restless. I feel compelled to move. But I cannot move. It is bedtime. I am sleeping.
Am I sleeping?
I slide out of bed and go to open the door of my room. It does not open. It is locked. I frown. Since when are we locked in our rooms? It is an irregularity that makes my head hurt. It feels wrong, because I am doing wrong. If I do the right thing, I will feel good. Turning around, I get up and go back to bed. There’s nothing else to do but wait for morning.
I will work in the morning.
13
Shah
“I can’t fucking believe it!”
My own loss of Dreamy is being eclipsed by Malik’s reaction as we both watch Zeki do her level best to break out of her impromptu prison. She’s scrabbling at the locks of the shuttle, jamming tools into apertures. She’s doing damage that’s going to cost thousands to repair, but it is the last damage I’ll ever let her do.
“She’s alive,” he says. “She fucking made… she’s alive.”
“Yes. And for now, you and I are the only ones who know that.”
My thoughts are with Dreamy. I don’t care what happens to Zeki now. I mourned her when she passed, and for all intents and purposes, she did pass. I don’t know the Zeki that emerged on that Colony ship. I mourned the Zeki who was my friend, but I will show no mercy to the Zeki who took my Dreamy away.
“What are we going to do with her?” Malik sighs. “I’m so relieved she’s alive, and I’m so, so angry at her. She’s always been a handful, but this goes above and beyond. This might be unforgivable.”
He’s already forgiven her. I can tell. But he knows as well as I do that she can never, ever be part of our world again. The choices she has made mean that is impossible.
“I have an idea,” I tell him. “It’s not a nice idea, but it will keep her alive. And it’ll help us get Dreamy back.”
“Tell me.”
I outline the brief idea. Malik listens and nods. “At least that way she gets to survive,” he says. “Though I think she would hate that more than death.”
“Zeki deserves punishment,” I tell him. “And Dreamy deserves to be free. This way, they both get what they deserve.”
“Alright,” Malik agrees grimly. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
Trying to extract a worker from a functioning Colony is practically impossible. The security measures are intense, designed to prevent any interruptions that might disrupt output. To the colonists, workers are not people. These are people-shaped machines running pre-programmed routines.
It is, however, not a place that overly cares for the individuals inside. The Colony must function. The individual is incidental. Zeki had Dreamy returned to the machine, but it is possible for her to break free again, I hope. This place was never designed as a prison for the flesh. It is a jail for the mind. That’s why they’re not concerned by the den of depravity down by the shore. The only people there are people separate from the Colony, people who buy the Colony’s products and suckle at its teats.
We’ve managed to locate an ex-Elite who used to work in the conditioning plants in the Colony. He’s a thin, nervous man who probably has a lot of reason to be nervous. I’ve agreed to pay him handsomely for revealing the secrets I need to know in order to extract Dreamy again. I’ve also promised not to kill him, which I think is very generous.
“It’s called ocular programming. It’s the use of high frequency pulses of light to initialize preconditioned programs. It’s very effective. For whatever reason, your girl must not the best candidate for it. Something breaks her programming. We see this sometimes with candidates with some kind of emotional baggage, for want of a better term. Unfinished business. Their minds hold onto memories they cannot access but can nevertheless act upon. From what you’ve told me, this woman knows she belongs with you. You could simply wait for her programming to fail again.”
“How long might that be?”
“Months, likely. They’ll be keeping a very close eye on her, assuming they inserted her back into the system, which I would guess they have, because there is no other use for a drone. Or we can attempt your plan, which I believe will work simply because it is more audacious than any I have heard before and the system is not built to stop it.”
“Then I think we’re ready,” I tell him. “Let’s do it.”
* * *
