In constructing my perfect soul mate, fresh organs would have to come last. Creating the perfect Cog was a whole other ordeal to work out, and one that Penny had been thinking about intensely for a while.
“Why can’t you work any faster,” I asked Penny, who scoffed.
“I’m thinking as fast as I can,” she retorted.
All morning, she’d been looking through both cabinet files and computer files in the lab. Clyde’s body was hidden in an upright freezer by the far wall, past the steel surgical tables. I anticipated him bursting forth any second and either blaming me for his death or demanding that I take back what I said about his DJing skills.
I gulped down cup after cup of water, trying to get rid of my hangover. Penny wasn’t even suspicious that I’d gone out last night. As far as I could tell, she was more focused on paperwork and research.
“Maybe you should just get out of here,” she sighed. She swirled around in her black desk chair and rubbed her eyes. “It’s probably best that I figure out this part alone.”
“Alone?” Now my suspicious were raised. “How will I know if you’re making any progress?”
“You’ll see it,” Penny replied, a bit too tersely for my liking.
She was asking me to trust her, and I wanted to. But my life experiences had led me to wonder if there was anyone I could trust in the world. Father had been disappointed in me from the very beginning, while Clyde had disappointed me with his two-timing. And then there was Anna, who would be watching me carefully, especially after the party last night. I really should not have drunkenly told her that I thought Clyde sort of sucked, even if it was true.
I gulped down more water and smashed the empty paper container into a flat circle on the desk. The vats of Cogs jiggled from my impact—and then went completely still. Penny smacked the table, and the Cogs soon resumed their usual moans and burbles. The ground beneath me rumbled as if discontent.
“Okay,” I said, giving up my interrogation for the moment. “I’ll want to see the progress soon, though. There’s not a lot of time before Father gets back.”
“It’ll be fine, trust me. You can work on other things too. Like what clothes he’s going to wear. Figure out his traits and his name. Then we can plug that stuff into the computer.”
Now that cheered me up considerably. “That’s true. My partner needs to have amazing style. I should probably go shopping.”
“Shopping? With what money?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told Penny, who looked increasingly worried about it. “I trust you, and you trust me. Right?”
Penny’s mouth narrowed into a line. “Right …”
“I’ll stay out of trouble,” I promised. “Really.”
Penny didn’t seem entirely convinced. I knew she was weighing the pros and cons of both options. I could either stay in the lab and slow down her progress, or I could leave, and I might even be helpful to her.
“If you’re going outside, wear one of my hoodies,” she suggested.
I agreed to it, even though it was a big sacrifice in terms of personal style. “I’ll do it for …” I hesitated, unsure of his name. “Oliver? Edward? Julian?”
“Lots to think about,” Penny said, shooing me away. “Off you go.”
The buildings looked blurry today, and for a moment, I wondered if I only imagined that because of my hangover. But the tourists were taking off their coats and rolling up their pants. A shimmering heat reflected off the tall glass boxes, pouring hot light onto all of us. There were no Uphillers anywhere. They stayed inside those tall glass boxes, protected against the heat in their climate-controlled world.
My pockets were soon lined with bus tokens, wads of cash, and accessories that I’d lifted from distracted tourists doing their usual Uphill sightseeing. I daydreamed about boyfriends’ names as I sifted through watches and rings in the Night Market.
“Othello,” I mumbled to myself. “Orlando?”
No, those weren’t the right names.
But I was getting somewhere. Romantic names were appropriate for a romantic guy. This was a trait I’d want to include. I made a mental note to tell Penny this.
I ambled happily at dusk, a large plastic bag swinging at my side. I’d fought off rats to retrieve it from the trash can. It smelled slightly like takeout pizza, but that was okay.
Inside the bag were cable-knit sweaters, black pants, and sleek loafers I’d gotten from the market. Lots of good options today, and I’d gotten to haggle with the vendors for even better prices. Things were coming together.
I traded some stolen tourist cash for blackberry ice cream down at the Night Market. I watched an international film in the Entertainment District, laughing, crying, and screaming throughout the feature, while the person sitting next to me coughed in this weirdly pointed way. The English subtitles made it possible for me to follow along with the plot, but I wondered if there was some subtext I was missing. In the film, the morning sky wasn’t the orange I was used to, but a science-fiction blue. That part was odd, even surreal—especially because the movie otherwise seemed to take place in a contemporary setting.
Still, it was nice to escape into someone else’s problems for a change, and, better yet, to see the clear-cut conclusion once The End flickered across the screen. The villain got what they deserved; the hero triumphed despite the odds.
When I left the theater, it was dark outside. I thought about Penny, who was trying to help me on top of all the other stuff she was dealing with. Penny was the only person in the world who had ever tried to help me. She deserved a happy ending too.
I wanted to help her. It just made sense to. It wasn’t right for Penny to always be tired and broke. I felt like she was always trying to climb out of a black hole that kept pulling her back in. University debt and rent—I could see that those things were taking a toll on her. It didn’t seem fair for her to work so hard and be left with so little.
And I wanted to trust Penny because she said I reminded her of herself. I wanted to trust her because of her rotten girl tattoo.
I trudged my way toward the bus stop, hoodie pulled well over my head. Maybe tonight I’d give Penny the money I’d lifted from tourists. She could use it for her rent. I knew she needed help; I could help her.
A couple of drunk Uphill guys were huddled a few feet away from the bus stop. Laughing and snickering. I almost walked away until I saw the black feathers on the ground.
Raven feathers.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Nothing,” one of them said, while the other one laughed.
It wasn’t nothing, though. Between their polished black shoes was a raven. It was small, probably a baby. It hopped from one foot to another, cawing softly. They’d been pulling out its feathers. I didn’t even like ravens but seeing this made me snap.
The bus came and went.
I walked over to them, and they stopped laughing.
“It’s just for fun,” the one with a golden wristwatch slurred.
“Fun? You think this is fun?”
They both went quiet. The raven looked up at me with big shiny eyes. I could see a clear bald spot on one of its little wings.
I was furious. “It’s smaller than you. It’s just a freaking baby.” I took a step toward him. “It’s just trying to live. Leave it be.”
Ravens foraged in groups. I saw them hanging out on tree branches, on building ledges, and on monuments in the cemetery too. I almost never saw one of them alone, but this one was.
“It never asked to be born. But now it’s here, and it doesn’t have anyone. You’re just making things worse. What’s wrong with you?”
God, I had so much to say. It was so fucked up and unfair. “Don’t you know how hard it is to survive when you don’t have anyone?”
Another bus came and went. The guys tried to get on, but I blocked them obstinately.
“Maybe you’re sick of ravens. I get it, there are a lot of them on the island. Maybe you were just blowing off steam from work or whatever. But don’t you think your actions have impact?”
The Uphill guys were starting to look nervous. Maybe they thought I was ranting.
“How is it going to think of the world now?” I went on, my cheeks flushing. “How is it supposed to fly and chirp and eat garbage when its earliest memories are so isolating and cruel? It deserves happiness just like anyone else on this planet!”
The two of them mumbled some shoddy excuses and left the bus stop. My voice was louder than I meant for it to be. Even the other people waiting at the bus stop were side-eying me.
I ignored them all and crouched down, reaching for the raven. “So cute,” I whispered. “From now on, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”
I imagined it soaring over Amaris City, Uphill and Downhill, and all of a sudden, my heart felt too big for my chest. But when my hand grazed against its feathers, the bird pecked me fiercely.
“Ouch,” I told it sternly. “Be nice.”
The bird looked at me with wild black eyes. Before I could swoop it up into my arms, it flew away, cawing. I ran after it, but even with my legs, I couldn’t catch up to a creature that flew.
I felt somewhat embarrassed now that I was alone. I knew my outburst at the bus stop had been a lot—but after watching the movie, I’d been stuck on the idea of happy endings, monsters, and heroes. And maybe I was a little frustrated with how Uphillers could be. But these guys weren’t Father, and this raven wasn’t me.
When I pulled myself out of it, I realized I’d taken a bunch of side streets and alleys and somehow ended up at the other end of the Night Market. Tourists were crowding around the latest addition: a new kiosk stall.
It must’ve been added recently because I certainly would have noticed something like this. It was somehow beiger than the other kiosk stalls. Bigger too. The screen displayed the same goods found at the stalls next to it, but with a dizzying array of other options too. It carried everything from fried fish snacks to custom contacts. The traffic was even cutting into the road.
“It’s getting worse around here,” I heard a vendor mumble.
“What do you mean?” I asked, sidling up to him.
He considered me for a moment before replying. “There was a recent incident. A vendor smashed one of their kiosk screens, so I guess they’ve decided to handle that by replacing it with something even bigger.”
“But this thing is crowding into the real market stalls,” I frowned. “Wait … what happened to the vendor?”
I remembered the man with the baseball bat. The crack of wood against the glass screen. Silver coins clattering, which had even drawn out one of the Institute interns.
The vendor smiled tightly but did not respond to my question. “There’s going to be more of Uphill coming Downhill, if you know what I mean.” His face hardened. “This keeps happening. They raise the rent, we fall behind, then they take the stalls we’ve owned for decades as collateral. They don’t want us to have anything at all. The biggest insult is the offer that comes right after they tear down our stalls and replace it with this crap: You can come work for us.”
He practically spat out the word us.
There were Downhillers behind every new kiosk. These were people who had every reason to hate changes made to their community by people who didn’t even live there—but had little option but to work under increasingly worse conditions.
I wished there was a different way for people to work. Maybe, under different circumstances, the machines could help instead of making things worse. All I knew was that there had to be something better than this.
A thousand questions whizzed through my Cog. But it was the vendor who asked me one before I could get another word out.
“Young lady,” he said gravely. “Shouldn’t you get back Uphill?”