The vendor’s probing question had thrown me for a loop. He’d taken one look at me and figured I wasn’t a Downhiller, even though I hated the new changes to the Night Market too. I certainly wasn’t for Uphill, but I was currently benefiting from the Institute.
Despite the problems I had with Uphill, I was still in the lab, working on my own project. I told myself that what I was doing was different—I was subverting the Institute by using their equipment for something that had nothing to do with squeezing profits. That was punk, right? That was more in line with Downhill standards. Wasn’t it?
My hands were stained with black box-dye ink, and I couldn’t get the damn spot out. Guilt coursed through me, to the point where Penny asked if I was feeling sick. Even though I’d never been sick a day in my life—which hadn’t been that long, but still.
On the bright side: Clyde’s hair now matched mine. He was cold as hell from the lab’s standing freezer, but overall, he looked great. Better, honestly, than when he’d been alive. All of this, thanks to a little salvaging and haggling at the market.
He had jet-black hair, and his mouth no longer curved into a smirk but a gentle smile, after a little bit of muscle finessing on my part. I’d replaced Clyde’s gritty Downhill outfit for something a little more romantic too. He was wearing a black cable-knit sweater paired with dark wool trousers. I’d replaced those old cowboy boots with black dress shoes.
I’d decided his name was Hugo, because the brooding love interest in the movie I’d seen down at the Entertainment District was named Hugo and had made quite the impression on me with his dark, flashing eyes and somber voice. The original definition of Hugo was “mind,” so it seemed appropriate, especially as I worked on his Cog.
Helga and Hugo; our names even matched. We would be the perfect pair. We’d make a home together, Downhill. Of course it would be Downhill for us. I couldn’t possibly be an Uphiller.
After taking yesterday to think things through in the lab by herself, Penny concluded that the best way to continue our project was to model Hugo after my own design. After all, she already had the schematics, and anything else would’ve been, in her own words, “way beyond her pay grade.”
That worked for me. A custom build would’ve been intensive and pretty graphic. We’d have to separate skin from bones and stitch together even more organic parts, which meant even more corpses to deal with. With a copy-paste job, all I really had to focus on was his style and creating the perfect Cog.
That was the main problem with Clyde, anyways—his brain. Now he’d finally get the perfect interior, to match an even more suitable exterior. The black hair was a nice touch.
I beamed at my handiwork. Hugo. He really was a marvel.
Penny was sitting at one of the computers, absentmindedly chewing one of her fingernails. “I really don’t need the money,” she told me.
This was the fourth time she’d said it this morning, and each time, I responded the exact same way: “I want you to have it.”
She didn’t mention that Father had messaged her this morning, but I still saw the text on her phone before she shoved it back in her pocket. Why were you fifteen minutes late today? Which meant he was tracking her coming in and out of the lab on top of not paying her well.
I didn’t need all that stolen money, but I knew she did. I wanted her to not spend every day worrying about debt. I didn’t want her to be so tired anymore—yes, partly so that she had more energy to work on my soul mate, but so what? I still wanted her living conditions to improve because they seemed truly miserable.
I tried washing my stained hands in the sink. Damn, those spots really would not come out. I gave up, smearing black stains on my white lab coat, then turned to peer over Penny’s shoulder, to look at the computer while she worked.
Intellect, determination, and strength: Hugo’s growth models would be the same as mine. Penny clicked around different files and data tables while the wet pink cord attaching computer to Cog vibrated.
“Can we add more Romanticism?” I asked her hopefully.
“Gotcha, chief,” Penny said. She dragged a new table over to his Character Traits profile and clicked download. Behind the computer, Hugo’s developing Cog began to thrash against its container. The sound intensified into a low moan.
It was almost humanlike.
“This is really wild,” I admitted. And unnerving, I thought privately. The Cog’s data collection took a lot of processing power. A few overheard lights even flickered on and off. And I swore that under my soles, the floor vibrated more intensely than usual.
“Cool, huh?” Penny smiled wryly. “It’s kinda why, despite the shitty pay, I’m still here.”
It made me feel better knowing that my personal project was very similar to Penny’s routine work tasks. It wasn’t as much extra work as I’d dreaded. The timing would line up too—Penny promised we’d get it done before Father came back from his trip. We had just under a week left.
Plus, Penny could also tell him that I’d been helping her at the lab, which Father would approve of—so long as we didn’t mention the project specifics.
It was obvious that while Father got all the praise and credit for the lab, Penny did the day-to-day work, cleaning beakers and testing software. But despite her efforts, all she owned were some old CDs. The Institute owned the machines—both here at the lab and down at the market.
It was deeply unfair. I wanted things to change. But how?
Penny looked up at the clock on the wall, then back over to the body. She pulled a face. “We need to get him back in the freezer,” she said, her hands still hovering over the keyboard. His Romanticism trait hadn’t finished downloading yet.
We scrambled over to the surgical table and strapped him down together. Penny opened the freezer door while I hoisted the table vertically, since I was considerably stronger than her. I wheeled Clyde—Hugo—back inside of it and closed the door firmly.
“A few more minutes, and he would’ve been much less viable,” Penny grimaced. “The rot could’ve begun to fester.”
Back at the computer station, Hugo’s Cog was still moaning. “Is it usually so loud?” I asked, staring at it.
I swear, it already looked different than the rest of the Cogs. Somehow pinker, and more volatile. The moaning was distinctively different from the Cogs’ usual gurgles too.
It was almost as if it was trying to speak.
“I think so,” Penny said, considering it. Her eyebrows creased. “Yeah … it’s probably fine.”
It didn’t exactly reassure that immediately after she said this, she rummaged through her bag, mumbling about needing to pop outside for a quick break. She pulled out grunge CDs, fashion magazines, and a purple bullet-shaped object, which started vibrating as soon as she touched it.
“What’s that?” I asked, fascinated. “A weapon?”
Penny shook her head. Her ears had gone as pink as her hair. “Nigel, power off,” she said, and the bullet-shaped object stopped moving.
Very strange. I knew what the automatic lawn mowers were for, and the autonomous buses also had a clear purpose. But I had no idea what intent Nigel served, and Penny seemed in no rush to tell me.
“I’m heading out for cigs,” she told me. “I’ll grab lunch on the way back too. And I don’t have to say it at this point, but please remember to—”
“Stay put,” I finished. “I know.” I couldn’t be roaming around the Institute, not with Anna here. I didn’t even want to, not in this ugly button-up.
I passed time by clicking through the new files for Hugo. We had the exact same attributes, with slight modifications, which now included Romanticism. While I was here at the computer, I might as well download more poetry for him too.
Love sonnets were needed. Haikus, epics, and odes, certainly. It would be great if Hugo could begin each day by praising my various fine qualities—but only if he wanted to, of course.
Penny would’ve been dismayed by my latest additions, but I didn’t need her to oversee me. I was a fast learner. Adding a few files wouldn’t be a big issue.
But Hugo’s Cog was still moaning—and pretty loudly too. It pushed its container wall while the pink cord connecting it to the computer buzzed. It seemed more alive than the other Cogs.
It was probably best to play it safe and run these new downloads as test files. I copy-pasted CharacterTraits_Final into a new file and dumped in as much love poetry as I could find.
As I pressed download, I heard someone running down the hall. My shoulders tensed. The clatter seemed urgent. Something was wrong.
Penny burst through the door, out of breath and panting. She didn’t even bring back steamed buns or dumplings from the canteen, so I knew it was serious.
“Some employees from PR are ‘popping by,’” Penny wheezed. “The boss lady was curious about how Cogs are progressing. I ran into her while I was getting cigs. Goddammit.”
“When are they coming?” I stood. If I sprinted out now, took the service elevator, and left through the side entrance, maybe I could get away in time.
“Now,” Penny said. “You need to find somewhere to hide.”
Shit. There was nowhere to hide. The steel lockers were too small for me. They’d see me if I hid under a table. There was almost nowhere I could think of, except—
Except the freezer.
“Please,” Penny said, in a voice that crested higher. “They’re on their way here.”
There was no time to argue. I could hear new voices in the hallway. Leisurely, “on break” voices who had no idea what torment they were about to put me through. I gave Penny one last despairing look, and then I walked into the freezer, where Hugo’s cold body was waiting.
“Think of it as bonding time,” Penny said with a halfhearted smile as I closed the door and was enveloped in darkness.
Inside the freezer, there was an unmistakable odor coming off Hugo’s body.
It was not anything like the sweaty body odor I’d experienced in the tangle of the Night Market, shuffling between crowds jostling for meat skewers or keychains. Hugo smelled like actual death.
With no room to inch away, I either had to hold my breath or deal with it. It was probably best to deal with it, since I had no idea how long the PR Boss Lady would be “popping by” for.
Since I was trapped in the freezer, the fumes were heady and overwhelming. It was like being in the morgue with no escape. There was a horrible sweet-sourness to him, which I fervently hoped would go away once more progress was made. Otherwise, I’d really need to spray him with some powerful cologne. Or even cleaning spray.
I heard Penny open the door, letting in not one but two coworkers from the PR department.
“Penelope,” a voice that must’ve belonged to the Boss Lady trilled. She enunciated Penny’s full name, drawing out each syllable. “It’s been so long, sweetie. How are things coming? Not too lonely without the doctor, are you?”
“Nope. Not too lonely at all,” Penny said, her voice audibly strained.
They did the usual Uphill small talk. They were both busy with work, but it was great to be busy. The weather was great too. Everyone was eating well.
So many lies breathlessly uttered. Everyone in Amaris knew the weather was crap—Uphillers were rarely coming outside because of the rain and humidity. And Penny never ate well—she practically lived off cigarettes, coffee, beer, and snacks.
I tuned them out until the Boss Lady switched topics. Her voice changed, transitioning from Perfunctory Introduction Voice to Business Voice. Which meant whatever she said next would finally be the real reason she was here.
“You might have already guessed, but we want to move in a new direction with the Marietta Project.”
I nearly choked when I heard her saying my old name. I managed to clap my hand over my mouth just in time.
“I know about the shift to trying out system intent,” Penny said slowly. “But you know, we’re still working on the project as is. It’s still in the exploration phase.”
The Boss Lady laughed. “No, Penelope. Perhaps the doctor hasn’t updated you. He’s made a lot of progress lately. He mentioned this during his presentation at the conference, and of course, the Institute wants to capitalize on that.”
“Really,” Penny said, also laughing, but nervously. “What does the Institute want?”
“Autonomous service workers, to take advantage of these marvelous Cogs we’ve developed. I hear they’re really quite complex. The Institute has poured so much money into this endeavor. They’re quite eager to recoup. And what a boon it’ll be too—for all of us.”
“For all of us,” Penny repeated flatly. “No offense, ma’am, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”
The Boss Lady didn’t reply. This conversation was so stressful that sometime during it, I’d grabbed Hugo’s cold hand. He did not squeeze mine back.
“It really doesn’t matter what you think, Penelope. It’s happening.”
“What happens if the doctor doesn’t agree to this?” Penny spat.
“What do you think will happen, dear? They’ll fire him and replace him. Everyone’s replaceable.”
In the freezer, I had begun to seethe. Autonomous service workers? Fuck that. I hated the Institute even more than I thought fathomable. They wanted me to have no agency or ability to form my own decisions. They didn’t want to treat me like a sentient being at all, but like a machine made only to serve them.
These people really didn’t give a shit. They were motivated by selfish reasons, which lead to the exploitation of so many others. They used people as they pleased until they broke. I’d even seen it happen to Penny too, between the work she did at the lab, assisting Father in his personal matters, and the drain on her bank account by a landlord who wanted more and more every month.
It was dehumanizing, but what did that matter to any of them, so long as she could still be used up?
“That about wraps up our little visit,” the Boss Lady said. I could practically see her smug smile, even through the wall of the freezer. It practically oozed out of her. “Anna, do you have anything to add?”
Anna was here too? I buried my scream in Hugo’s cold shoulder.
“I did have a question for Penny,” Anna said, tapping her shoe against the floor. “I’ve seen you with that girl, Helga? I’ve been looking for her.”
“Anna, this isn’t social hour,” Boss Lady tittered. “Please save those conversations for after work.”
“Sorry,” Anna said, sullenly. “I’ll ask her after work, then.”
“Are we all set here? Because I have a lot of tasks to get through this afternoon.” Penny was trying to get them both to leave.
Meanwhile, I was desperately trying not to lose my shit. Anna wanted to ask me questions about Clyde’s death, and now Boss Lady was saying that I had to turn into some autonomous service worker. Things could not get worse.
“Oh, one last thing. Could we see how Marietta is coming along?” Boss Lady asked.
Footsteps were approaching. They were heading straight for the freezer.
OhgodOhgodOhgod.
What the hell would Anna think if she saw me cowering next to Clyde’s altered body? Anyone would scream and immediately call the authorities. I saw my life flashing before my eyes.
Forget autonomous service worker: I’d either be heading straight to jail or the Institute would have me strapped down on a steel table to be observed and tweaked for the rest of my life. Father would have a nervous breakdown, especially when tourists lined up at some stupid museum or public center to gawk at the notorious Cog of his man-killing teenage daughter.
“No!”
I heard a loud thump and realized that Penny had thrown herself directly in front of the freezer, blocking Boss Lady and Anna’s view.
“She’s not … quite ready,” Penny stammered. “We want the reveal to be perfect. The doctor isn’t even back on the island yet.”
“I’m certainly eager for a look.” Boss Lady did not sound pleased. “Not even a peek?”
“You’ll be really impressed. But we need a little more time.”
“Fine, Penelope. Once the doctor is back, I’ll have a look.”
“Sounds great,” Penny said faintly.
I heard them walking back to the front door of the lab. After a few minutes had passed, Penny opened the freezer.
I nearly fell out, desperate to get away from Hugo’s death stench.
“What should we do?” I asked, because I didn’t have any idea how I was going to get out of this mess. I smoothed my coat, trying to get its lingering Hugo-ness off me.
“We may want to tell the doctor,” Penny said.
I really, really did not want to tell Father about this. Penny saw my expression. “Let’s eat first, then think about it,” she amended. “Sound good?”
“Much better,” I agreed. Boatloads of food couldn’t fix everything, but at least I could pretend they did.
For now.