We try to run. We take off, hand in hand, away from the wreckage of the two flyers. Across the green field. But the Harrisons glide up to us on their hoverboards and they hold us down.
Arden calls the police as we struggle in vain to get free.
And after that we are loaded into the back of a police glider. We are given collars that will knock us unconscious if we try to escape. But thankfully, besides that we are unshackled. It’s a bit of dignity that I did not deserve to get.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Ari, slumped against him on the hard wooden seat, “I was stupid.”
“No you weren’t.” Ari holds me with one arm and strokes my hair with his other hand. “You were overly emotional. And I was overly emotional too. We should’ve both been paying more attention. This is both of our faults.”
“And now I’ve gotten us killed.”
“I’d rather die with you than live without you. In fact, I think I’d rather die with you anyways. I hate my life.”
“I hate my life too. But what about our families and friends and all the people who will miss us?”
“They will know that we’re finally free. That we’re finally in the Green Place where all things are equal and love rules all.”
“That communist drivel won’t get you anywhere,” the cop tell us in his front, cushioned seat. “There is no Green Place after death. Only nothing.”
“Shh, don’t listen to him,” Ari whisphers to me, so quietly that it’s just barely audible.
“I won’t,” I whisper back.
“I’ve always wanted to die in a rebellious action. And now we will. Rebelling for love is the best rebellion of them all.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too. I don’t think anyone’s ever not been afraid of dying.”
“I’m so scared that I can’t bear it.”
“I’ve got you.” He holds me against him tighter. And I find a small measure of comfort in his arms.
We keep whispering softly to each other, baring our fears, our regrets, trying to give each other comfort. And it works. Just a little bit it works.
Yet anxiety still builds and builds within me as I watch the scenery drift by behind Ari. I try to only look at Ari. But it’s hard to miss, with my ever-alert eyes, as we near the prison complex. The rows and rows of stone cubes that each make up a cell. My alertness came too late. If only I had been alert when Ari and I kissed. If only I was smarter then.
“At least I don’t have to see my master ever again,” I tell Ari.
“At least I don’t have to see mine either. Or his good for nothing family.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think we’ll end up a story of warning or a story of hope?”
“I think maybe both.”
“Get out you little pieces of trash.” The police officer grabs us by our collars and yanks us out of the glider. We stumble onto the ground. Dread sits heavy in my gut as I am dragged to the small stone building in line with many other buildings that look exactly like it.
“You rebellious defectives won’t be finding a way out of here any time soon.” The police officer’s words are harsh and full of hatred. They make me shiver. I can’t believe I’ve doomed Ari to this.
We get put through an extremely invasive full-body check and are stripped of our clothes and put into rough gray prison clothes. I find myself unable to breathe. It all seems to be far too real.
I spent so much of my life trying to avoid just this. Trying to avoid being a throwaway and trying to live. But it seems as though in the end my heart was the thing that betrayed me. And all my smiling and grovelling was for nothing.
The police officer opens the door of the prison. It slides up and we are shoved inside. The door slams closed and then it’s it. We’re locked inside. Everything is real.
There is no light inside the prison save for a small hole on the roof, about the size of my hand. It lets a sliver of light in and from it we can barely see.
Ari just stands there, face solemn, as I run to the door and try to open it. It’s no use, as the door extends up above the stone ceiling and down below the stone floor, and is lined on each side by rough stone. Still I run my fingers down the edges of the door, trying and failing to pry it open. I scream and try to push the door open with all my strength. I know I’m wasting calories. But still. Still. I don’t think I could bear just giving up.
After what feels like hours I am forced to give up.
I walk up to Ari and he wraps his arms around me, saying nothing. I scream. And it’s a horrible, hollow, wretched sound. Ari just hugs me tighter.
“Calm down,” he says in a quiet voice. But I can hear the fear laced through it.
“How can I calm down? We’re going to die!”
“I understand. I understand it’s hard. But if we go into death with dignity then it will be a win against them.”
“But they won’t even fucking know!”
“But we will know. We’ll know. And we’ll carry that knowledge with us.”
“So what?”
“So when we get to the Green Place we’ll be able to tell everyone that we stood up tall.”
“You believe too much in the Green Place.” I hope I don’t hurt him but it’s true.
“No I don’t. I believe in the Green Place because it’s true and because I know in my soul that it’s true.”
I slump against him and he catches me, lowering us down into the rough, uneven ground. The ground is uneven and rough. The walls are uneven and rough. Everything is uneven and rough. To make it more uncomfortable for us I guess.
“How do you know?” I ask him. “How do you know it’s true? My voice rings exhausted and hollow against the walls of the prison.
“Because I can feel it. Can’t you feel it too?”
I think about that for a while.
“I can. But how do I know it’s not just hope I feel?”
“Because hope is real. Hope is strong. Love is real. Love is strong. The feeling inside your heart, that makes you long for freedom, that feeling is real and it’s strong. Don’t you feel it?”
In the darkness I lean against Ari. I feel his heartbeat in rhythm with my own. I feel the golden string that connects both of our hearts. I feel how even in this prison he has strength. Even with the weeks stretching in front of us without food or water, he has strength. And I feel that I love him.
I feel that I love my mom and dad. I feel them worrying about me. It fills me with so much horror and guilt. To think that they have to witness the death of their only son. To think that they have to worry about me, and grieve me, and pretend that nothing is wrong.
But I feel the connections between us. The love. I feel the way that they were there for me as much as they possibly could be whenever they possibly could be over all these years. How they were my family, despite us sharing no biological link.
I think of Aleni. The secret moments shared between us. How each of those secret moments are and always will be precious to my heart. I think of the way I will miss her, the way that she will miss me. And under all the guilt and regret I see the unmistakable love that is shared between us.
I think of Haynen. How she shared whatever stories she knew with us whenever she could. How she was always trying to make the burden less heavy. How I always wanted her to know that I appreciated her and everything she did.
I think of Hari. How he was so calm on the outside yet such a storm on the inside. I think about how he always helped us see hope in even the most desperate of situations. And of how we tried to help him see hope in return.
I realize that I won’t be seeing any of my people again. And that fact punches through me like a stone ripping through my insides. It hurts more than I knew anything could hurt. But even in the hurt I see love.
I think about all the synths the world over. How we are all connected. Connected by our shared suffering and our shared aching for freedom. Connected by our shared dreams and hope. Connected by our shared histories and futures. But most of all connected by our love. Love that transcends all boundaries and borders and unites us so strongly. So infinitely.
And it hurts. To be in love. To be in love with so many. To be in love so much. But it also strengthens.
Love is strong. And even in the face of death, in Ari’s arms, I can see that. And I can see how Ari believes in it. I can see how love can be powerful. How it can be more powerful than death. How it can be more powerful than impossibility. How it can be more powerful than power.
But still. I cannot convince myself that it can be more powerful than the owners. I cannot convince myself that it can save us. The owners have held all the power for far too long.
I tell Ari this. And he tells me, ever so gently, that I’m wrong. I tell him that I don’t want to argue. Not here. Not now. And he tells me that we don’t have to.
“I’ll miss my family. And my friends.” Ari’s voice cuts through the black silence.
“Me too. They must be so devastated.”
“You’re right, they must. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not fair at all.”
“I fucking hate the owners.”
“I fucking hate myself.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I will.”
“Don’t.”
“I just wish I could be there to comfort them. But I can’t.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It really isn’t.”
“But maybe it is comforting for them to know that we’re finally free from all of our burdens and our griefs.”
I think about that. I know that everyone’s always seen at least some amount of hope in death. But I know that that doesn’t banish the grief.
“Let’s hope they can get through it.”
“Yes. Let’s hope. All good things come from hope.”
“They do. It’s so strange. The human ability to find hope in the most desperate of situations.”
“It is. So strange and so beautiful.”
“Human souls are truly amazing.”
“They are. They’re capable of so much and yet they need so much.”
“When I’m with you I think that I only exist to love and be loved.”
“And you are loved. We are loved. By the whole universe.”
“It doesn’t feel that way right now.”
“I know.”
We stay like that for a while. Entangled in each other. Speaking of things far bigger than ourselves and inextricably within ourselves at the same time. Speaking of the emotions we both know that the other is having. Speaking of all the people who we left behind.
There are far too many people who we left behind.
Eventually hunger begins cutting through us and leaving us aching. Thirst begins burning within us and leaves us dry. And I know that this is just an omen of things to come. Of the hurt that will come.
And that makes me cling to Ari even more.
And we continue looking at our pain and trying to distract ourselves until we are unable to keep awake and even the rough floor is not a deterrent to our sleep.
I sleep entangled in Ari. Entangled in my Ari. Something I have never been able to do before. And in a strange way it is sweet. Unbelievably sweet.
When we awake we awake to soreness and hunger. But we awake to each other. We awake to warmth. We awake to thirst. We awake to fear. We awake closely nestled within each other. And I hope that my loved ones know that I’m not alone. I hope that they know that I have Ari’s strength to get me through this.
The second day is much harder than the first. We make the most of our limited time together by being entangled in each other. And we worry. Even though there is not really a point in worrying. There is nothing we can do to change our fate.
“We were so fucking careful. So careful. Right until the end.” I lean against Ari’s shoulder.
“It should’ve paid off. We were so good at hiding. One moment of weakness shouldn’t’ve brought it all down.”
“We were good at hiding.”
“We shouldn’t’ve had to be good at hiding. We should’ve been allowed to love freely in the open.
“They don’t want us to have anything.”
“But I have you. I have you right now. And they can’t do anything about it.”
All at once blinding light floods the cell as the door opens. Ari and I look at each other for a moment before making a run for it. I feel a sharp piercing in my neck. And then everything goes black.
When I awake in the cell it has two more people in it, besides Ari and I. I can’t make out many of their features in the almost absolute darkness. But they are both taller than me.
“Hi. You’re awake.” The voice is feminine and sounds a few years older than me.
“Yeah,” I reply groggily.
“Thank the universe. We were worried about you. Well, we still are,” the other voice says.
“Is Ari up yet?”
“Is Ari the other kid? No, he’s not up,” the second voice answers.
“My name is Luca.” I get up from where I’m lying, my head sore from the fall, “my pronouns are he/him. What about you guys?”
“My name is Elsa. My pronouns are she/her.”
“My name is Finn. My pronouns are they/them.”
“It’s nice to meet you guys. Though I wish we could meet under better circumstances.”
“You can say that again.” Finn’s voice is oversaturated with rueful darkness.
I see Ari start to stir.
“Hey, Ari,” I whispher to him gently.
“What?” His voice is disoriented and tired.
“We have two new cellmates.”
“Oh yeah. Who?”
“This is Elsa, she/her, and that’s Finn, they/them.” I help Ari up.
“I’m sorry that you guys are here with us. This is a shit place to be. I’m Ari, he/him.”
“It’s good to meet you, Ari. Even though I wish none of us were here.” Elsa’s voice is laden with anxiety.
“How did you guys end up here?” I ask.
“I got tired of being thought of as a boy,” Finn starts, “I couldn’t take it anymore. I demanded to be recognized as not a boy. But my owner didn’t like that. He wanted me to be a boy just like him.”
“Owners fucking suck,” I tell him.
“That’s a huge understatement,” Ari comments.
“I agree with Ari,” Elsa remarks.
“Anyways, my owner wasn’t alright with me making demands of my own. He said he’d throw me away and he did and now I’m in the trash can.”
“That was very brave of you,” Ari says wonderingly.
“Not brave. Reckless. Emotional. Foolish. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was like the pressure was building and building until it just all burst out.”
“I understand,” Elsa states. “It would be a lot of pressure constantly having to hide such a vital part of yourself.”
“Absolutely,” I agree.
“That you were able to hold on for so long is a miracle,” Ari tells him.
“I wasn’t able to hold on for long enough.”
“Don’t blame yourself over it. This is the owners’ fault. Not your own.” Elsa is right.
“It sure feels like my own.”
“It’s not,” I assure them.
“It’s just like an owner to deny basic parts of us. Their job is to deny everything about us that doesn’t fit their model for who they want us to be.” Ari is subtly seething. And I understand exactly why.
“You’re right,” Finn agrees, “the owners do deny us everything.”
“Fuck the owners,” I say.
“Oh absolutely,” Elsa agrees.
“If only we could.” Finn’s voice is threaded with strings of longing.
“We can,” Ari assures, “someday, somehow, in this life or the next, we can.”
“You have a lot of faith,” Elsa tells him.
“I need faith. We all need faith,” he replies.
“I need more faith,” Finn remarks.
“I probably do too,” I add.
The hunger is getting hotter and sharper and more powerful.
“So how did you end up here, Elsa? If you want to talk about it?” Ari’s voice is soft and gentle. I hold Ari’s hand on one side and Finn’s hand on the other. Feeling close to people helps take a bit of the sharpest razor edge off of the hunger. Finn and Ari take Elsa’s hands and now we’re in an unbroken circle. The small beam of light is in between all of us, providing faint illumination.
I’m in so much pain. The hunger is clawing up my gut and down my chest and the thirst is scraping down my throat and leaving my mouth like mud. But I’m not alone.
“It’s not a very unique story,” Elsa begins, “I just couldn’t satisfy my owner enough and she got tired of me.”
“Everyone’s story is unique,” I let her know. “And you didn’t deserve to get thrown out.”
“I tried so hard. It just wasn’t enough.” There is sorrow in her voice.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Finn tells her, “you did your best. It’s her fault for having such high demands.”
“We shouldn’t have to give in to their demands anyways.” Ari’s voice is dark with anger.
“You’re right,” Elsa agrees. “I hate giving into their demands and I hate having to always put them on a pedestal.”
“Well now you won’t have to,” Ari states.
Fin bursts out laughing, but it’s a broken, desperate sort of laugh.
“Yeah!” They exclaim, “that’s one good thing about being here.” We let them laugh, and Elsa reaches over to stroke their back.
“Another good thing about being here,” I say quietly, “is that I got to meet all of you.”
“I guess that’s right as well,” Finn replies softly. “At least we’re not alone. It would be unbearable if we were.”
“Synths are never alone,” Ari states, “we always have each other.”
“Yet we always feel alone, don’t we?” Elsa sighs.
“At least we have our people,” I breathe. “I miss them unbearably.”
“I miss them unbearably as well,” Finn agrees.
“We all do.” Elsa’s voice is broken and jagged.
“Who was in your family?” Ari asks Elsa and Finn. “Who did you have to leave behind? If you want to talk about it. I would understand if you didn’t.”
“I want to talk about it,” Elsa states. “It would give voice to the sorrow.”
“That’s’ very important,” I tell her. “Words have power.”
“I have a little sister,” Finn starts, voice achingly sad. “Her name is Arabelle. She’s sweet. So sweet. She’s all alone. So alone. We were all there for her. But she was still alone.”
“She does sound very sweet,” I say to him, voice feather-soft.
“She is. She really is. She likes to sing and dance. And like all kids she loves stories. She’s sneaky, very sneaky. And she manages to steal food from the owners. I hope she never gets caught. I feel so bad for leaving her.”
“That’s understandable,” Elsa tells them quietly.
“I also have a sister,” Ari tells us. “Her name is Laurie. She’s older than me though. I love her. I’ll miss her. She’s worrying about me so much. But she always knew that I’d end up dying early. She respected it. She’s so strong. She’s smart. Incredibly smart. If she wasn’t a synth she could do anything. But she’s always been too scared to sneak into school. Not that I blame her.”
“Sneaking into school?” Elsa’s voice is curious. “Who would do that?”
“Ari and I did,” I tell her. “Ari stole a passcode from his owner’s dad. We went for three years. Starting from grade five. In that time we fell in love.”
“That’s beautiful.” Finn’s voice is full of wonder. “I’m glad you guys did that.”
“I’m glad too,” I echo.
“I didn’t have any siblings,” Elsa tells us. “I always grew up alone. I always felt alone. In that house. I think maybe if I had siblings, if I had anyone as young as me to relate to and depend on, maybe I wouldn’t have broken as much as I did. Maybe I wouldn’t have ended up here. It was so lonely being the only synth child in my house. My owner was kind of like a sister but of course she didn’t count. But I did have parents though. I just never saw them as much as I would’ve liked.”
“I didn’t see my parents as much as I needed to either,” Finn speaks.
“Me neither,” Ari says.
“Me neither.”
“My parents are great though. I love them. They must be so worried for me.” Finn’s words echo with sadness.
“So must mine,” Ari says.
“And mine,” I add.
“And mine.”
“My mother was named Claire,” she continues. “She was always soft spoken and secretive. She told me stories of hope. She rocked me to sleep a couple of nights when I was younger. My dad is named Adi. He has a sadness all about him. So deep. So aching. He was always so soft and gentle. He called me his baby bird. I miss them both so much.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ari tells her. “They sound amazing. They’re lucky to have you.”
“I let them down.”
“No. You didn’t. And they’ll be happy that you can be in the Green Place where all people are free. Do they believe in the Green Place?”
“They do.”
“The synths in my life do too,” Finn comments. “The communist messages must be spreading fast.”
“That’s good though. Isn’t it? More people are going and joining them.” My voice is laced with slivers of hope.
“It is very good,” Ari agrees.
“Would you join the communists if you could?” Finn asks.
“Oh I absolutely would,” Ari declares.
“I would too. Ari and I were planning to join them when we were older.”
“It’s sad that that won’t happen,” Elsa tells us, “that’s a beautiful plan.”
“Did you have any dreams of joining the communists?” I ask her.
“Yes, but they were always just dreams. I knew I couldn’t act upon them.”
“Well dreams are important too,” I say.
Everyone is quiet for a while after that, I don’t know why. Perhaps we are thinking. There is a lot to think about, after all. But perhaps we are feeling. Feeling the overwhelming melancholy and the thick grief and choking regret. Feeling the undying love underneath that. Feeling each other.
“So my mother and father are named Isabelle and Bertie.” Finn says into the quietness. “Isabelle always hugged me so softly whenever she could. Bertie lifted me onto his shoulders once, when we had a small moment to ourselves in the house and I was small. I felt so tall. Isabelle believed in life after death. Even before the communists were anything at all. She always told me to not fear death. That one day we would be free together. My dad believed it too.”
“My mother, Ella, told me that she will be reunited with her girlfriend after death. She loves her a lot. And she loves me a lot. And she loves my father a lot. She’s so full of love. And she’s very keen about the communists. She tracks their every movement. My dad Sam was planning to join the communists when I grew up. He‘d be an amazing communist. He’s sneaky and strong and resourceful. My mom was even maybe going to go with him. Then they could get revenge on the owners together.”
“Both of your guys’s parents sound wonderful,” Elsa tells us softly. “You both are very lucky that you had them all.”
“I miss them though. More than I ever thought myself capable of missing anyone.” My voice is dark and heavy.
“Of course you do,” Finn says. “We all do.”
“It’s not fair that we’re parted from them.” Ari pipes up.
“No it’s not fair at all.” My voice is laced with anger. “They found moments every single day to spend time with me. When I was sad, when I was scared. When I felt alone. When I needed someone. When I was angry. They always tried to make me feel better. Make me calm down. And now I am left without them. And they are left without me. Without their child. And it’s just not fair.”
“You’re right,” Finn tells me.
We stay quiet for another while. Clutching each other’s hands hard and soaking in the anger and hatred that’s in the tiny room. It fuels us. Warms us. It mingles with my hunger and my pain and it transforms it. Transforms it into something else.
“What are your parents like?” Elsa asks Ari.
“My parents were always there for me. Whenever they could be. They said that the world would make me feel like I’m nothing sometimes. But I have to to stand up and know that I’m something. My mother is named Alice. And my dad is named Jaden. Alice loves the stars. She knows so many constellations. Jaden isn’t afraid of what other people think of him. Even if it hurts him, he knows who he is.”
“They sound like wonderful people,” Finn says.
“They are.”
“Do you believe we’ll ever see them again?” They ask.
“I do.”
“Good for you,” Elsa says. I smile at the soft camaraderie between us. “You have to have belief. You have to have faith. It’s something that will get you through the hardest of times. And it’s something that will show you the truth. Show you the goodness. Show you the beauty of even the most wretched of situations. My faith has always been a light in the worst of times. When I felt like I was all alone with no one to see me or hear me. When I felt like I was drowning in so much misery that I could do nothing but die. I had my faith to cling to. And it was soothing even if it didn’t stop the hurt. It was angry. It was hopeful. It was a strange sort of power amid all the powerlessness. It stopped me from drowning. It got me through. Even if I was left in unimaginable pain, it got me through. It kept my spirit alive. Kept my spark of rebellion alive. I hope that you all have faith that can do that for you as well.”
“Wow, Elsa.” Finn’s voice is full of wonder.
I echo them. And then it’s quiet for a while. We all soak in the lingering power of Elsa’s speech. It’s a beautiful speech. It gives us strength. Heals us.
“So what about about friends? Who else do you guys love?” Ari’s question echoes against the walls.
“I have a friend named Lavinia.” Elsa’s voice is sad. “She’s kind. She always finds a way to make my life brighter. I hope I did the same for her before I was taken away. She loved trees and clouds and nature so much. She was full of energy and spirit and hope.”
“She sounds amazing,” I tell her.
“She really does, Finn adds.
“She is. I have another friend named Ashlee. She is quiet and dark and serious. She’s gentle and kind and understanding. She has so many secrets. More than she could ever share with anyone. But she always tried to share them with us. I’m glad I had her in my life.”
“That’s amazing,” Ari says.
“She is. And I have another friend. Jack. He had so many hilarious, mischievous ideas. I wish he could act on them. It would be hilarious. He has so much rage inside him. But it’s a bright sort of rage, not a dark sort. He hides it very well, though. He has to.”
“He sounds like Ari’s sort of guy,” I remark.
“Is Ari mischievous?” Finn asks.
“He’s sneaky. And he’s rageful.”
“Aww thanks, Luca. That’s such a nice compliment.” Ari’s voice somehow, unbelievably, carries mirth.
“And the other friend that I had is named Leo. He is always looking for ways to make us feel better. He lost his first mother, she was thrown away and replaced. I don’t think he ever gotten over that loss. It tore him apart inside. He carries such sadness.”
“That’s terrible,” Ari says.
“It really is,” I echo.
“They all sound like amazing people,” Finn tells her.
“They are. And I’m going to miss them so so much.”
“We’re all going to miss our friends,” Finn says. “But at least that means we loved them.”
“We’ll see them again one day. I promise you all,” Ari asservates.
“Part of me definitely believes that,” I tell him. “But part of me has doubts.”
“Me too,” Finn agrees.
“I believe we’ll see them,” Elsa states. “What about you guys? Who are your friends?”
“I have a friend named Stella,” Ari tells our new friends. “She’s very thoughtful. She sees beauty even in this world. She shares with us all the beauty that she can. So that we could find beauty too. She has such a strong spirit that has been through so much hardness yet she still has hope.”
“She sounds beautiful,” Finn says.
“And my other friend is named Riannon. She has a certain grace to her. She can hold herself up tall even when the whole world tells her to keep her head low. She’s an inspiration to me. She gives us strength. She’s sweet and kind and has a temper that she has to hide, though not from us.”
“She must be so sweet,” Elsa tells him.
“And I have a friend named Carlos. He’s very serious. A little bit shy. But he’s very curious. He has so many questions. I wish I could answer them all. He is the one who makes sure we all stay level-headed and calm. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
“That’s amazing.” Elsa says.
“You’re very lucky to have them,” Finn tells him.
“Though I don’t have them anymore,” Ari sighs.
“You have us,” I tell him. “And you have your soul bonds with them.”
“You’re right, Luca,” he replies.
“So Finn. Who are your friends?” I ask them.
“My friends are amazing. I have one friend named Brae. And he’s so sensitive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. But he’s so attentive and understanding. He always knows just how to make us feel better. I wish we could make him feel better. I feel like we always let him down.”
“You guys try,” Ari says, “and that’s what matters. And I’m sure he really appreciates it.”
“Thanks. I hope he does.”
“Oh he does,” Elsa assures.
“My other friend is named Devin. He has such a wild imagination. The things he comes up with. They’re just amazing. And he’s got a good sense of humour as well. We all love his jokes. Though of course he has to tell us them in secret. All the rain in the world couldn’t put out his fire.”
“That’s beautiful,” Ari speaks.
“How about you?” Finn asks me, “who are your friends?”
It hurts incredibly to talk. But I have to talk. I have to keep myself distracted ad much as I can. So I tell them about Hari and Haynen and Aleni. And they understand how much I love them and how much I miss them. And they understand my constant state of devastation.
We keep talking through dry, parched throats as the hunger and the thirst grows and grows. We keep naming our emotions, naming each other, and trying to give each other strength.
We all talk equally. As equals. And this is so much better than the millions of conversations I’ve had with my owners.
Eventually we are tired enough to be able to sleep. And we all huddle together for warmth. And it’s beautiful, the camaraderie that we have. I don’t know how I’ll bear to watch them die. I hope I die first.
When we awake there is another figure in the shadows. Another person in our cell.
“Hi,” Elsa greets them. “My name is Elsa, she her. Who are you?”
“My name is Aveni. My pronouns are also she/her. It’s nice to meet you all.” Her voice rings calm and confident and clear. She has none of the fear the rest of us have. How?
But we all introduce ourselves to her. And I ask her why she isn’t afraid.
“Because we’re not going to die,” she says. “I promise.” We’re not going to die? What kind of absurd assertion is that? But still, hearing her words sends a shiver of hope running through my chest.
“How?” Finn asks.
“Exactly. How?” Ari echoes.
“Because you’re going to be free.”
“How?” Elsa asks, voice infused with doubt. Yeah, exactly. How? She’s not exactly being very specific here. She’s probably just some poor girl who has lost her grips with reality. I don’t know how to break the news to her that there’s no getting out of here. I don’t know if I should.
“I’m a communist. Well, a lot of people are communists. But I’m a fighter in the communist resistance. And I’m going to cut through the walls with a laser. And then we’re going to sneak to the gilder my team has prepared on the outskirts of the prison complex.
My whole heart lights up with hope. It feels as if I’ve been struck by lightning. But in a good way. In such an incredibly glorious way. I can hardly breathe with joy. We’re going to get out of here. We’re going to get out. We’re going to get out! We’re going to live!
“Where will you get the laser?” Elsa asks. And she has a good point. Where will she get the laser? The elation in my heart dampens a bit but still I have hope.
“Well here is the gross part,” Aveni starts. “I swallowed the pod containing the laser before I got myself arrested. I’m going to have to throw it back up.”
“That’s an amazing plan!” Ari exclaims, voice full of bright joy. I smile at him and he beams back at me.
“Guys, we’re going to be free!” I almost shout.
“We are!” Finn echoes.
“But why can’t you just do this from the outside?” Elsa asks.
“Because the light would give us away.”
“That makes sense.”
I’m going to open the cell when it’s bright outside, so that I can see. But we’ll get out when it’s dark.”
“Sounds like a perfect plan,” I tell her. “Thank you so much for saving us.”
“Think nothing of it. It’s what communists do.”
We talk until the beam of light coming in through the ceiling brightens. This time instead of melancholy, our words and voices are exhuberant. I have never felt such joy in my life. It feels like every single part of my body and soul is burning with bright light. Aglow with hope. I’ll finally be able to taste real freedom. I don’t even know what real freedom will be like. I tell them this.
“Oh real freedom is beautiful. It’s glorious. It’s intoxicating.” Aveni’s words are tantalizing.
Finally the light burns brighter and Aveni sticks a finger into her throat and vomits all over the floor. She pushes out a small capsule the size of a small rock. And she takes off the casing to reveal a tiny laser.
Then she runs it over one small square of the wall, again and again and again, agonizingly precise each time. We watch her with baited breath. She asks us if any of us want a turn. And of course we do. And so she watches us as we run the laser over the wall again and again and again.
Soon it becomes too dark to work anymore. But we’re not done, so we take a break. Exhausted, starving, and dying of dehydration, we find a way to sleep. When we awake,the room buzzes with talk of freedom and rebellion.
“So what’s it like, being a resistance soldier?” Ari asks Aveni.
“It’s beautiful. I really feel like I’m working towards creating a better world. I feel like we can win against all the injustice and inequality. Or at least we can take a stand against it.”
“How did you come to join the resistance?” Elsa asks.
“A couple of years ago my neighbourhood got taken over by resistance fighters. My owners were killed and all the synths freed.”
“That’s amazing,“ I say. “That must’ve been one heck of an opportunity.”
“It was. I had the choice of living in society as a civilian or of joining the fight. Of course I chose to join the fight. And I’m going to keep choosing to fight until I die.”
“Wow you’re really awesome,” Elsa tells her breathlessly.
A large part of the day is spent cutting into the wall. Until finally, the wall is almost broken.
“Give me this last part,” Aveni says and Finn hands the laser to her. We wait with bated breath. And ever so slowly, finally, finally the wall is cut clean through.
We cheer elatedly and come together for a group hug. Next, we gather the last of our strength and push the block we cut out away from the rest of the wall. Oh so slowly it moves. And then we crawl out of the small hole, helping each other through.
We put the block of stone back into the wall where it came from. So no-one would know what we did. But we keep look outs and scatter every time a guard comes anywhere near.
Finally we are following Aveni through the maze of buildings, padding softly on bare gray stone, hearts clenched with fear and hope and terror and promise. 554Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNDUSZMqZLJ
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