Screw Father, and screw Penny too. There was no choice but for me to get out of here.
As soon as they both left the apartment, I stormed out of my bedroom and headed straight for the front door. Changing my Cog was unforgivable. It was what made me, me.
My fingers grazed the brass doorknob, and I hesitated, slightly unsure now that I was hovering at the precipice. There were only two options: stay or go. Father said he would know if I left the apartment. And if I left, it would only be further incentive for him to change me, since it was proof I couldn’t follow his orders.
Then I thought: Who the hell cares what he thinks?
I let the door close behind me with a definitive clinch. Something whirred inside the door frame—an automatic lock. Now I couldn’t even get back in if I wanted to. I would have to break into my own home if I ever wanted to go back inside.
There was that ache again, somewhere inside me. It coiled in my stomach. Somehow, it’d even found its way up to my heart. I gritted my teeth and flew down the stairs, ignoring the dull pain. I passed wall after wall of beige sameness. The dull mumble of classical radio followed me, haunting my every step.
I stepped outside into the night rain, where every splatter felt like a harsh kiss. Giddiness spread through me as I looked down the sloped green hill. I could hear the people, even from up here. The Downhillers were out in the city. And even though the trash can–like automatons were already covering up the graffiti on the annex building with their long suction arms, the words the boys had written there were permanently wired into my Cog. Fuck the Institute.
But there was one thing I had left to do before going Downhill.
Getting into the Institute building was easier than I imagined. It was post—email hours, with no Uphillers in sight. There was an iron lock on the front door, which I simply broke off between my hands before sauntering in, metal chains clattering to the floor. Sneaking into Father’s lab was the trickier part.
After taking the service elevator down to the bottom level of the building, I walked down the clinical white hall back to the place where I was born, but there I ran into a couple of issues with the door. I couldn’t brute force my way in. A passcode was required to enter. Four digits, which meant 10,000 possible combinations.
If I tried to guess the passcode too many times, I might end up being locked out and escorted by the Institute’s security detail, which would definitely not be cute.
The A/C sputtered wetly. Condensation clung to the wall. I tuned out everything around me and stared at the passcode. Think, Helga, think. What four numbers might be important to Father, if any? Guessing correctly was my only option.
I remembered the wall of personal accolades in his study. If there were any significant numbers to him, I knew it would be one of those. The most impressive accolade would have been the latest one issued. There were no plateaus, no dips along the line. Father’s trajectory was upward bound only. Up to the top of the city, up on the radar of every celebrated institution.
Me, I thought, clutching my stomach. The weird ache had returned. I should’ve been Father’s greatest achievement—but I was not only born too early; something about me was fucked up.
So it had to be something else: The date that he’d been accepted to conduct Cog research at the Institute of Scientific Progress. My own Cog recalled the exact numbers on Father’s award in his study.
I typed in 0422, and the light turned green. One try, and I’d bypassed the first passcode.
The green light switched on, the door opened, and I walked into Father’s lab—not as his assistant nor his successful project, but as a trespasser.
A delinquent.
How had things gone wrong? The clues were all here in this room, and I just needed to puzzle it out. If anyone was to discover a solution to my problem, it should be me. I could fix myself so Father wouldn’t have to.
The problem wasn’t anything related to my organic parts. The performance checks had verified that, so I could ignore the jars of preserved organs and the collection of bones that were on one side of the room.
I strode over to the other side, to the row of glowing computers and Cogs. I was transfixed especially by the Cogs suspended in vats of fluid, since the problem was with my Cog. Allegedly.
But what if it wasn’t the Cog at all? What if it was how I’d been programmed?
I touched the base of my own neck, feeling the flesh flap, the gurgling warmth of the Cog that whispered under my own skin. I could plug myself in with one of those wet pink wires on the table, hook myself up to the computer, and make myself into anything. Anyone.
Marietta.
“Fuck this,” I said. Pain throbbed at my temple. My Cog raced, puzzling out the different paths to take. Every single option except being Helga sucked.
I didn’t want to change. I was happy just the way I was.
I was already heading for the exit when I saw the row of trench coats, neatly hung in a line on the coat rack. Below them was a row of patent black shoes, all in the same size. My size.
How many Mariettas had Father tried to make? What had happened to them?
A chill ran up my spine. I was wearing the skin and bones of several girls, surely. Everyone was useful, even after death: I knew from my history modules that all dead bodies in Amaris ended up in the Institute. Material could never be wasted, especially not when there was still progress to be made.
There were steel lockers behind the Uphill clothes Father had set aside for his perfect daughter Marietta. I shouldn’t open any of them; I knew that. My Cog whispered a terse warning: Don’t.
Don’t look.
Don’t open the door.
I opened one anyway—to confirm what I already suspected.
My hand brushed against black hair, against starchily stiff fabric, against soft, petrifying flesh. A discarded, half-formed Marietta smiled at me in her sensible blue button-down, her mouth swarming with black flies.
I lurched backwards and was enveloped by beige trench coats as flies flew out, swarming around the room. The coat rack clanged behind me. My heart went into double time. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the locker.
This half-formed Marietta wasn’t the only thing in there. There were similarly shaped skulls piled up on the bottom of the locker. Black hair tangled with dark brown hair. This was only the beginning of Father’s abandoned projects.
Father hadn’t bothered cleaning up his mess. Dirty work wasn’t for him; he was too busy chasing his next big achievement.
Now I’d definitely seen more than enough. I shut the locker quickly, but the flies were already out, a group of them forming dark clouds around my head. Rotten girl, they buzzed.
My heart thumped in my throat. It was such a shock to my system that I stepped backwards onto another patent black shoe and tripped.
The coat rack fell on me. I was buried in beige trench coats while black shoes dug against my back. I choked and pushed them aside, gasping for air. Clawing my way out.
I could still see the rotten girl in the locker, grinning at me. Her face was imprinted on the back of my eyelids, taunting me.
If I opened the other lockers, how many more Mariettas would I find?
Starting over from scratch. Those had been Father’s own words. He was ready to have me join the other Mariettas. To yank out my Cog and reassemble what had been me into something better.
I fucking beelined it out of there, furious, afraid, and vengeful as hell.
I would never share their fate. I would never be Marietta.
I discarded my long trench coat outside of the Institute. I kicked off my shiny black shoes into a blackberry bush by a park. I opened my mouth as I ran through a copse of gnarled trees, and I swallowed up all the rain. It crackled hot on my tongue like drops of bubbling oil. I savored every microorganism inside each raindrop, licking between my teeth to make sure I did it thoroughly.
I needed more.
The downpour immediately took the starch out of my button-down shirt. It turned my slacks from blue to black. It curled my hair into snakelike tendrils. I kept running, my bare feet now pounding against wet pavement instead of grass. I went farther down the hill. The few straggling Uphillers turned from the sudden gust of breeze, looking quizzical in their long beige trench coats as I passed them. But it was too late. They’d only see my shadow and feel the lingering chill; I was gone like a bad memory.
The night kissed my skin. I opened my mouth, letting the rain in again. I could have swallowed it all. If I wanted, I could devour the moon. Eat the stars. Turn the whole world dark.
I swiped handfuls of unripe blackberries by darkened offices and cafés and then I gripped my abdomen, feeling that persistent twinge again. Whatever the problem was, I would have to figure it out on my own. Father wouldn’t help me. Father didn’t even want me.
My pants were frayed. Over the course of my run, I’d ripped holes in both knees. My shirt was torn. I didn’t look like an Uphiller at all. I looked like a huge mess. I was almost at the bottom of the hill now, where Amaris Cemetery loomed.
I saw my first tourists, poking around outside the cemetery. They were easy to spot with their ridiculous fanny packs and expensive cameras hung around their necks. They didn’t walk briskly like Uphillers did. They ambled like turtles.
I crept up behind them, soundless like a predator.
“Should we get closer?” The freckled redhead kid was tugging on his mother’s wet sleeve, trying to get her to relent, inching toward the tombstones near the bottom of the hill. “I want to get a better picture.”
The father, a man wearing a yellow windbreaker and green track pants, shook his head regretfully. “Not sure if it’s safe, Sammie. Maybe we’d better head back to the hotel and get an early start in the morning. Downhill’s pretty dangerous, I think—I don’t want to get too close to the border. We’re better sticking up here during the night.”
“Could we come back during the day and just go to the carnival?” the little boy whined. His parents patted his head indulgently.
A sudden hot rage coiled inside me. It felt like a sickness, even though I’d been made to be perfectly healthy. What was this feeling eating me up? Why did the boy’s parents dote on him, sniveling and small and breakable as he was? Why did they all look at each other like they were the entire sum of the universe?
The father took a step backwards and bumped into me. The three of them gasped when they turned and saw me standing in the shadow of an old elm tree. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating my wet ragged clothing and my fucked-up hair. The tourists went slack-jawed.
“I need …” I sputtered. “Please, help me.”
I stopped short, realizing they were all afraid of me. I wasn’t as cute as I’d looked earlier, but surely I couldn’t be that horrifying. The parents circled their son protectively. Hiding him from me. “Just take our money.” The mother trembled. Her face had gone almost as pale as the headstones around us. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“I’m not—” I tried again.
“Here,” the father said, stumbling forward. A leather wallet fell from his track pants. He picked it back up with shaking fingers and thrust it into my hand. “Take this.”
They really did think I was a monster after all. But all I wanted was for them to recognize that I was a human being in trouble. All I wanted was for someone to help. I turned away so they wouldn’t see my crestfallen face.
I knew there was no getting through to any of them. Not the way I looked, and not the way they looked at me. I watched them run away, their son nestled safely between them, each parent occasionally turning back to make sure that I wasn’t following in deadly pursuit.
No time to feel sorry for myself though, not when my new life was just beginning. So I pressed onward—forward and down.
Ravens sang. Lightning flashed. I was totally in my element. The closer to the bottom of the hill I got, the more at home I felt.
As I trawled through the dirt paths of Amaris Cemetery, I couldn’t help but think about Penny. She was trapped too. Stuck Uphill when she clearly belonged somewhere else. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. We probably weren’t so different from each other.
Ugh. The last thing I needed was someone keeping me from moving forward. My sympathy was misplaced. It had to be.
I put her out of my mind as I counted the money in the tourist’s wallet. There was a large wad of bills and a handful of silver tokens. It would help me get by for a while.
I was getting closer to the bottom of the hill, and now I could hear revelry on the other side of the morgue. My heart skipped a beat, then went into double time. I trampled over white rose bushes, approaching the stone structure. There were fresh donations inside. I knew it was cold like Father’s lab. Had he and Penny sifted through all of these bodies, hoping to make the perfect daughter?
A lump formed in my throat.
I couldn’t afford to be sentimental. Father didn’t want me, and Penny was too useless to be of any help. I narrowed my eyes and hardened my heart. I trampled over more white roses.
I reached the black iron gate, and then crossed it into Downhill, Amaris. Into the land of night people.