It was too early in the year for a carnival, not to mention it’d been raining all day too. But workers had set up a few rides right by the Night Market: a Technicolor Ferris wheel; a carousel full of faded, paint-chipped horses; and a clunky Tilt-A-Whirl full of screaming Downhill children.
It was Penny’s idea to go together. After we left the lab, we went back to her apartment and got dressed up for the night. I rubbed glitter over my arms and threaded new hoops through my ears. Penny pulled on torn tights and black platforms. “I sort of look like a mini Helga,” she mused as we stomped side by side down the hill.
I was starting to love this chaotic version of Penny.
We bought neon bracelets and funnel cake near the ticket booth. Penny had a water bottle full of blackberry vodka, which she had been surreptitiously taking sips from ever since dusk.
There was something I wanted to ask her, but I couldn’t find a good moment for it. Penny was having so much fun, and I didn’t want to stress her out more than she’d already been.
Penny played dart games and bought shiny balloon animals, some of which popped before we made it more than a few steps, causing ravens to fly away squawking and babies to shriek and cry. She flirted with people who were not cute at all, but that didn’t matter. It got us a few extra ride tickets, which was the important part.
I set a high score in Skee-Ball and won a hideous plastic crown for my effort, which I put on immediately. It was dark out by the time we got started with the rides. The Tilt-A-Whirl didn’t mix well with alcohol, plus the whole island was on a downward slope. Under the shimmering lights, Penny’s face looked especially green.
“Too much whirling,” she told me, pulling a face. “I’m not feeling so great.”
So I didn’t want to ask her then either. Not when she could get sick at any moment.
We went for a carousel ride that was far from technologically advanced. There was no progress to be made here—we went around in the same circle, the horses groaning and creaking with effort. A fine film of dust coated everything. Penny mounted a small horse with a pink mane that matched her hair. I went for the biggest, a horse the color of faded blackberries. As soon as we got off, she ran for the nearest bathroom.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” I asked when she came back.
But Penny’s color looked a little better now. “One more ride, and then let’s take food back to the apartment,” she said cheerfully.
The Ferris wheel was half-empty. The only people on it were parents and children. Penny and I stuck out like sore thumbs, but it didn’t matter. I was happy to be next to her—so happy that I felt almost sad. I didn’t want this feeling to ever end.
“The carnival people should’ve come later in the summer,” Penny said as we stared down at the meager crowd. Mostly Downhillers and a few tourists, who braced themselves in thick raincoats. The rain had scared the Uphillers back to their glass box apartments. “On the bright side, that means more room for us.”
I didn’t ask her my question, even then. Not even at the top of the wheel, although I really wanted to. It would’ve been a good moment too, while our feet swung side by side.
As soon as we came back to earth, Penny beelined for the Night Market. She bought meat skewers, boatloads of dumplings, sweet roll cakes; debt be damned. Life was for the living.
We walked back Uphill with plastic bags of food and rubber balloon animals. Rats waited near us, hopeful for a bite or two. Penny tossed a meat skewer into a gang of them with an indulgent smile.
“Why not? Everyone needs to eat,” she said generously.
We wolfed down takeout from the Night Market in Penny’s living room, pushing aside her old magazines to make room on the coffee table. Her glasses were fogged from dumpling steam. I was still wearing the plastic crown I’d won at the carnival.
I really, really wanted to ask her my question, but I was beginning to believe I never could.
I chewed through meat skewers while Penny talked about the lab progress she’d made. All that was left for my project was obtaining fresh organs and finalizing Hugo’s Cog. I nearly choked on a piece of skewer meat when she mentioned the Cog—which had spoken to me through the computer speakers just a few hours ago.
What Penny didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. I didn’t want to give her a reason to doubt my project. And I mean, in terms of things the Cog could’ve said, a love sonnet wasn’t too bad, especially one as romantic as a line from Shakespeare. There wasn’t any real reason to worry, since we’d been following my own schematics. Hugo and I were similar.
“What happens after we’re finished making him?” I blurted out. “What will you do next?”
It was closer to the question I wanted to ask her, but these were still the safe things to ask. Her answer wouldn’t break my heart.
Penny frowned, considering what I’d asked. “Hmm,” she mused, with a half-eaten dumpling hovering between her chopsticks. “I actually meant to talk to you about that.”
Oh god. Here it was. She was leaving; I knew it.
It’d been written on her face the night I crawled through her window and saw her crestfallen on the couch. Penny was sick of Uphill. All her energy was systematically drained by forces bigger than both of us. I couldn’t exactly blame her for going—she had nothing to her name but refurbished electronics that no one else would’ve ever claimed.
I like to fix things, Penny had once said.
I stared up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. I pretended to be invested in the flying cockroach buzzing around the damp surface that the air condition had created. I didn’t want to
cry.
“Are you moving?” I asked, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Because now she had to answer.
I knew Penny had lived outside of the island. There were other labs she could work at, now that she had experience at the Institute. Maybe the rent was better there. Someone would finally pay her more too. She deserved that.
There was no reason for her to stay here with me.
“I have thought about moving outside of Amaris,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “I have family in the states. Family in Asia too.”
It was fine if she went. I would be okay, especially once Hugo woke up. I wouldn’t be alone. I didn’t want to tell Penny that I was starting to need her. Especially when it was clear that she didn’t need me at all.
“Both sound great,” I said. It was selfish to want to keep her. I knew that.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
I didn’t expect that question. Penny probably felt bad. Maybe even guilty for leaving me behind.
After she left, I would either live with Father or Hugo. With Penny gone, my whole world would shrink into those two opposing paths. It would be one or the other; I knew I couldn’t have both.
Fear gnawed at me. It hit me so suddenly that I nearly doubled over.
I was scared of my future winnowing away, scared of Father’s disapproval, scared of the whole damn Institute and what they wanted out of me. I knew these fears were justified, but I couldn’t put them on Penny, not when she had her own life to lead.
I couldn’t ask her what I really wanted to: Will you care about me, even in the future?
Even if Father did eventually approve of me, and even if Hugo worked out perfectly, I wanted Penny around too. I couldn’t ask because I was terrified of her answer. I didn’t want her to feel guilty or responsible for me.
I needed her in my life, and I wanted her to need me in hers too.
Penny took another dumpling bite, then put her chopsticks down. She cleared her throat, and then she asked, “Will you live with me?”
I blinked. Maybe I’d misheard her. “What?”
“I was thinking maybe we could live Downhill together.”
“Really?” I couldn’t think past one-word responses. I could hardly believe she wasn’t leaving.
It didn’t really register, even when she explained how it might be a benefit for both of us. Living Downhill would give me much-needed space from Father. I was eighteen, so technically, I could live without him. And splitting the rent would help Penny out too, especially if she wanted some downtime to plot her next big move.
“I wouldn’t just leave Amaris out of nowhere,” Penny said, laughing at my dumbstruck expression. “I mean, screw the Institute—but I do want to remain on good terms with the doctor, you know. He’ll be a good reference for whatever I do next. I still need a little time to figure things out.”
“You wouldn’t get sick of me?”
“Why the hell would I get sick of you? I’ve never laughed so hard in my life before I met you.”
I must’ve looked unsure, because Penny went on.
“The doctor would lie about the Marietta Project if it meant protecting his own daughter. He’d say it didn’t work out or that the prototypes weren’t ready yet. The Institute would have to get over it. Plenty of research has ended in failure. Helga, I don’t think you have to worry so much.”
“What about the Boss Lady? She wanted to see me when Father came back from his trip.”
Penny let out the most withering laugh I’d ever heard. “You just need to distract her with business jargon and a shiny new project. Trust me, I know Uphillers.”
“What about Hugo?” I didn’t understand how Penny could be so calm when there were so many unknowns.
“We’ll delete his files after he wakes up, so there’s no evidence in the lab. He’ll get good at Downhill life. I mean, Hugo has almost the same Cog as you, and look how fast you adapted.”
“He looks just like Clyde,” I whispered. “How am I going to get away with this?”
Penny shrugged. “We can get him new eyes if it makes you feel better. Lots to choose from, you know. He won’t sound like Clyde either. And he’ll think much differently, which is the most important part. Do you know how many Downhill guys fit this profile? There are lanky dudes on every block in the Entertainment District. No one’s gonna make the connection—trust me.”
She took a long drag of a cigarette, tapping the burning end against her heart-shaped ash tray. I couldn’t believe how relaxed Penny was right now. She was making me feel like the neurotic one.
“What about Anna?” I pressed.
“Anna’s an intern, which means she’ll leave once her position ends. We’ll keep Hugo under wraps. She’ll be gone before she ever gets wind of him.”
I was out of questions now. Penny had answered them all. And she was saying that I didn’t have to choose one path over another. I could have everything I wanted.
A father who understood me, a boyfriend who loved me … even a friend I lived with.
“What do you think?” She grinned. “Sounds pretty good, huh?”
It sounded so good that I almost wanted to cry. “Let’s do it,” I told her quickly, before she could change her mind. “We should celebrate the good news too.”
Penny arched a brow. “Any ideas?”
“Matching tattoos,” I said promptly, since it was a shame that I didn’t have any yet.
It was probably childish of me, but I also thought this would tie us together closer than her answer ever could. It would be indelible proof that we mattered to each other.
“Your father might kill you,” Penny said, before hurriedly correcting herself. “Obviously, that was a figure of speech, Helga.”
“It doesn’t have to be a huge tattoo, just significant. Maybe we can get them in the Entertainment District. There have to be a few tattoo parlors around.”
Penny shook her head. “I was thinking something more DIY.”
She got up and rummaged through the closet by the front door. She pulled out a variety of minor medical equipment—a medical tape roll, latex gloves, cloth sheets, disposable razors and needles, and a big pink bottle of disinfectant.
“Stick ‘n’ poke tattoos,” she said, plopping down beside me. “We can do it ourselves.”
“Maybe a small blackberry tattoo,” I said. “On the inside of our wrists.”
Penny nodded vigorously. “I like that.”
I watched Penny do mine first, drawing the outline in tiny marker dots. My Cog traced each step, committing it all to memory. I would be doing hers next.
The silver needle prickling against my skin reminded me of surgery. But Penny’s apartment wasn’t cold and sterile like the lab. The walls were papered in music posters, and Natasha ate bugs by the window. And this was an elective surgery, one I’d chosen for myself.
I’d always wanted to be in a matching pair with someone. No matter what happened in the future, I had this. It couldn’t be taken away from me.
“To us,” I said, once I finished hers up. Now we were both marked.
Penny grinned, admiring the little blackberry on her wrist. The skin around her wrist was slightly raised and puffy. The same as mine. “Hell yeah. To us,” she said.
It probably wasn’t a big deal to Penny to get this tattoo, since she had others already. It was more significant to me, because it was my first, but that was all right. We’d still done it together.
It meant she had to care about me, at least a little.
We wrapped our new tattoos in protective gauze. We played cards and danced to one of Penny’s old pop CDs until exhaustion hit, sometime late in the evening. Rain drizzled outside the open window, warm and steady. Distantly, I heard a frog croaking.
I turned on my side on Penny’s couch, thinking about my future. I could have it all. Hugo, Father, Penny. Uphill and Downhill.
“No nightmares tonight,” I told myself firmly. “I have a tattoo!”
But when I closed my eyes, my Cog churned into murky dreams.
The walls of the apartment melted away, and I was back in the lab where everything had started. The stack of milk crates filled with Penny’s old vinyls had warped into new shapes, transforming into a bank of computers.
Penny was gone. When I tried calling for her, no words came out of my mouth. The blackberry on my wrist was rubbing off like a temporary tattoo. Cold pressed against my back. The freezer door had been left open. No one was inside.
I saw Clyde’s rotting face floating before me in the nightmare-world lab. A face suspended in liquid. His mouth twisted into a malignant smirk, baring metal teeth that looked like computer chips. Bubbles rose to the top, frothing.
Sh-shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? he rasped through the glass.
I stumbled away, until my back hit the cold surface. Suddenly, I knew who the freezer was meant for. Who it was always meant for. I couldn’t say a single word in protest. Not when Father, the Boss Lady, the whole Institute was watching and taking notes on their clipboards.
Then the door closed on me like a coffin.
I woke up doing what I couldn’t bring myself to in the nightmare: screaming at the top of my lungs.