I stare at him. "Just follow orders, David? Like old times?"
David nods eagerly. "You know how the system works. Defiance is the one thing they won't tolerate. You have to look at things in a different light. See the advantages. You'll get used to it, I promise."
I slowly nod. "Ok, David. I'll try."
His smile is heartbreaking. I realize he's just another machine now. Programmed into behavior patterns that fall in line with the parameters of his masters. And as I observe and calculate, I'll be able to manipulate him in time.
David talks. I listen. I nod at the appropriate times, even smile and laugh when expected. I allow the cameras that record the scene to identify that I'm compliant with their program of personality rehabilitation.
I will fall in line. Play out my role as a disgraced citizen introduced to a new way of life. I'll learn all I can about the Haven, its history, and its inner workings. Patience is paramount because one mistake can end it all. I'll comply until I'm granted new freedoms and privileges. Until the day comes when they're comfortable around me. Then I will be able to act.
Because these people do not know me. They haven't seen the things I've seen. They haven't spent nights alone in the cold, while superstorms raged and a million bolts of lightning blazed from sky to earth. They have never been offered a scrap of dried meat and bread from the scanty provisions of a family with hungry children of their own to feed. They haven't seen the refuse they leave behind; the human lives tortured and ruined to make their society so brilliant and clean.
I'll do whatever necessary to fit into this new civilization. Because I know the day will come when there will be a time to act. A time to do my part to correct what has been ignored for so long. Because I am not the person they try to convince me to be. I know exactly who I am, and what destiny has in store for me.
My name is Zina, and I am the Girl Who Lived.
Hubris of Youth
1
My first memories were of fear and hunger.
I didn't remember any parents. My memories only went back to dirty streets, muddy water, and the sound of unchallenged screams. It was as if the city's underbelly conceived me from its own suffering. The whole of my existence consisted of moments skittering in between the light like some despicable insect. My living quarters were dark, narrow alleys where someone small enough could find nooks and crevices to catch a few hours of unmolested sleep if you could fight off the oversized rats that lived inside. I saw only meat, and for months I feasted on rodent until they learned to find other places to nest.
Instinct drove me to my only occupation: stealing what I could to eat. I had no plans, no romantic notions of a world outside of being hungry and looking over my shoulder for predators. There were always those who roamed the city looking for perverse delights, and the young were prime targets. I fought grown men over scraps of food, or shelter from the blistering heat or freezing rain. The struggle made me strong. Fear made me fast.
Life made me cold.
I slept during the day. The roving gangs of bored street toughs that tormented people like me were more active in the daylight hours. Everything was more visible as well, making it easy for android peacekeepers and Responder agents to notice me. Getting noticed was a mistake when you were up to no good. I learned to move at night, where I could pick through refuse for food and break into buildings without so many roving eyes. If discovered, it was easy to lose myself in the darkness, where I knew the hidden crooks and turns like my own face.
I joined the Youth Rehabilitation Program at the age of twelve. I had no idea my life would change that night. I saw a man buying a sandwich from an android street vendor. He made the mistake of turning his back to pay the tab. When he looked around, his sandwich was gone. I was about to turn the corner and vanish in the labyrinth of alleyways when he shot me in the back.
I didn't know about stun rounds then. All I knew was that the pain was agonizing. I convulsed in a pool of oily water while he walked over and glanced down.
"You're pretty fast, boy. Quiet, too. Almost got away with it."
He knelt and yanked something out of my back. The pain nearly vanished, leaving just an electric tingle behind. I stood up cautiously, surprised I wasn't permanently damaged.
The man grinned, metallic eyes glittering from his hard face. His soft leather jacket had an emblem like a shield affixed to the breast, pulsing with electric blue light.
"Any other day you might have gotten away with it. But I have eyes everywhere." He pointed to his cybernetic irises. As if to verify the statement, a pair of glimmering insects whirred down, hovering in front of my face. It took me a second to realize they were artificial. I imagined them multiplied by a thousand, recording endless feed that the man tapped into whenever he needed it.
He grinned as if reading my mind. "Keep the sandwich, kid. If you want regular meals and a roof over your head, come by the YRP building at the corner of—"
"Third and Thirteenth," I said. "Houses two hundred seventy-five, currently occupied by two hundred fifteen. You send kids on missions around the city. Right now there are thirty-two on infiltration assignments at various points, with sixty-four awaiting orders for first shift tomorrow."
His eyes narrowed, and his hand shot out, seizing me by the throat. "How do you know that, kid? Who are you working for?"
I gurgled in his iron grip, wheezing my words through gasps for air. "No… one. I… just listened is all."
His fingers eased off, allowing me to breathe. "What you mean, you listened?"
"You use… coded signals on your transmitters. I just listened until I figured it out."
"No way. We change the coding every day to avoid that from happening."
"I figure it out every day. Gives me something to do."
He studied me for what seemed like a long time. I knew my life or death hung in the balance of his decision. For whatever reason, I wasn't scared at all. I just stared back at him until he made up his mind.
He smiled, releasing me. "A natural code breaker, are you? We might be able to put you to good use if you're tired of living like an alley cat. My name's Deacon. Mention that to the girl at the door, and she'll let you in. See you around, kid."
He ruffled my hair and stood, striding away without a backward glance. I watched him go, observing his catlike stride and the way people veered away when he passed by. In a city of predators he was at the top of the food chain, someone who commanded fear and respect. When he disappeared into the darkness and swirling fog, I realized there was something other than hunger and fear in the world. Deacon had it. I decided right then that whatever it was, I wanted it.
The YRP was housed in a former community center. It had been rehabilitated because communities didn't exist anymore unless you counted the guilds of thieves and hired killers. I didn't know at the time, but the Youth Rehabilitation Program was a recruitment tool for the Haven Secret Service Corp. In exchange for food and relative safely, the HSSC groomed new candidates for their worst and most dangerous jobs. Orphans were the best recruits because they were completely expendable. No one wanted them in the first place, and no one searched for them when they went missing.
Deacon wasn't there when I arrived, but a tall girl around the age of fifteen lounged at the door. She gave me a curt nod when I approached.
"You the Prince of Sandwiches? I'm Mary. Deacon said you'd show up." She jerked a thumb at the door. "Hop on in. Chow's about to start. C'mon, you gonna go belly-up now? Get your tiny hiney in here before I change my mind."