Tag: Mona

6.11

Anna B.1 Comment

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Angelina

As she ran at the creature, Angelina realized she had miscalculated.

She had charged at the creature before considering what she could do, or how she was going to help Chelsea. At the rate she was going, all she was going to do was ram directly into them.

She realized she needed to stop before her body remembered how. She lost her balance and swayed forward, falling directly onto Chelsea and the monster. The three of them crashed onto the cobblestones in a heap.

The creature pushed them to the side, and Angelina’s tailbone collided painfully with a protruding cobblestone as she hit the ground. It loomed over them, twisting backward, contorting its head backward and upside down at an unnatural angle.

It snapped its small, featureless mouth at them in a display that would have been comical if everything else about the creature had been less terrifying.

“You bitch,” it said.

“You’re the bitch,” Angelina said.

Beside her, Chelsea gave her a small, incredulous head shake.

“What?” said Angelina. “It attacked us. It is a bitch.”

Belfry fluttered above them, biting and scratching the creature’s shoulders. The creature lifted a hand to swat at him.

Angelina tried to slide out from under the creature, but a long, thin arm reached out to press her chest, pinning her to the ground so the cobblestones dug into her back. Stone scraped the back of her head as she turned to face Chelsea. Chelsea was pinned down too.

There were voices approaching from somewhere behind them; Angelina couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she thought they were speaking English.

Were some more monsters arriving to ambush them? That was just what they needed.

Was there one thing in this place that wasn’t going to try to eat them?

The creature twisted its head around just in time for something to collide with it with a sickening crack. It fell to one side, and Angelina could see the source of one of the voices.

“Ow, ow, crap, ow!”

A girl about Angelina’s age with blonde hair and a light dusting of freckles across her pale face stood, standing on one foot and massaging her ankle.

“Hi,” said Angelina.

“Hey!” The girl’s eyes lit up with recognition as they fell on Chelsea. “Chelsea! You’re okay!”

“Jen?” said Chelsea.

A woman with axes strapped to her back sauntered out of the shadows, stopping a few feet behind the girl and crossing her arms. She was thin, with a slight gauntness to her otherwise attractive features that would have made Angelina suspect she’d been trapped in this place for a long time if not for everything else about her appearance. Her hair was sleek, pulled up out of her face in a neat bun, and her crisp button up and slacks were pristine and unwrinkled. She even wore a subtle layer of makeup that Angelina couldn’t imagine anyone taking the time to apply in a place like this.

“That was actually impressive, Jen,” said the woman. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought you were.”

“Um, thanks?” said the girl. Jen, apparently.

Chelsea pulled herself to her feet, then reached out a hand to Angelina and helped her up. The creature lay prone beside them.

“So I take it these are the friends you were looking for?” said the woman.

“Well, I know one of them,” said Jen, “but I have no clue who the other one is.”

“I’m Angelina. Hi!”

“Hi,” said Jen. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to see another friendly face in this place!”

“I hope I’m not one of those friendly faces you’re referring to,” said the woman with the axes. “I’m certainly not friendly. Not to you, anyway.”

“Compared to that freaky dude I just kicked, you are,” said Jen. “Madam Grumpy-Pants over here is Mrs. Sharma, by the way.”

Mrs. Sharma frowned.

“Never call me Madam Grumpy-Pants again.”

“You do look kind of grumpy,” said Angelina.

“And you look like you crawled out of a ditch,” said Mrs. Sharma.

She turned her frown on Angelina, and Angelina had a sudden urge to sink back into the shadowy alley behind her. Mrs. Sharma had one of those disapproving frowns that she was used to seeing from teachers.

“My friend’s been through a lot today. I’m sure all of us have.” Chelsea stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m Chelsea. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sharma.”

Mrs. Sharma’s frown softened a bit, and she accepted the handshake.

“It’s nice to see at least one of you knows some manners.”

Belfry fluttered up to perch on Chelsea’s shoulder.

“Hello, signora, my name is Belfry!”

“Ah, you must be the one I’ve been seeing fluttering around. You’re Project Pteropus, aren’t you?”

Belfry cocked his head, confused.

“He doesn’t speak English,” Angelina said. “Just Italian. And his name is Belfry, not Project whatever.”

“Pteropus. It’s interesting to see him in person,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I wonder how he was able to survive the accident. He seems to have remained remarkably stable since then, too. And he’s… cuter than I expected.”

She reached out to stroke Belfry’s head, and he let out a happy chirp and leaned into her hand.

“Aw!” said Jen. “I have no clue what he is, but he sure is cute!”

“If they hadn’t ended up vaporizing themselves along with an entire town, I’d say the Italian team was far more competent than the idiots I was forced to work with,” said Mrs. Sharma.

Angelina felt herself bristle.

“Don’t talk about it so casually. A thousand people died, you know.”

“Yes, and you’re not going to bring them back by being rude.”

“I’m not being rude. You’re being rude!”

“I’m so confused right now,” said Jen.

“Okay, I’m sure we’re all pretty scared and confused right now,” said Chelsea. “Let’s not take it out on each other.”

The lying on the ground creature stirred, letting out a groan. Mrs. Sharma turned on her heel, motioning for everyone to follow.

“We should leave before it wakes up. I don’t want to have to deal with a Dave right now.”

“A Dave?” said Jen.

“That ‘freaky dude’, as you so articulately put it, is a Dave fabrication. A poorly made and unstable piece of biotechnology. They’re not dangerous in their partially mutated state, but they are really annoying. They kind of remind me of some other people I’ve met today.”

She turned around to glance between Jen and Angelina. Angelina stuck out her tongue, prompting Mrs. Sharma to turn back around with a scoff.

“Well?” said Mrs. Sharma. “Are you three just going to stand there and waste time? Follow me.”

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Not Enough – Interlude 12

Anna B.1 Comment

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Mona

Mona gave her watch another anxious glance as she turned the Bunsen burner to a low flame. It was 1:41 PM, and Ivan and the others would be back from their lunch breaks soon. If she didn’t hurry, they’d return and question what she was doing. She wouldn’t have a good explanation.

They would try to stop her, when what she was doing was far more important than any of the menial work she did for CPSI. Somehow, it felt like one of the most important things she’d ever do.

She pulled a bottle of water and four glass jars from her oversized bag and lined them in a row on the table. She’d found the bag in the back of her closet–a gift she’d received long ago and never used because it was cumbersome and had far more space than she usually needed. Today, it was so full the strap left a painful indent on her shoulder, and its contents bulged unattractively inside it.

She pulled the saucepan from her bag, placed it on the table, and poured the water into the pan. She unscrewed each jar lid, then lifted the saucepan over the flame with one hand. With the other hand, she emptied three of the jars into the pan one by one–first the tea powder, then the sugar, and finally the spices. She slid a heat-resistant safety glove onto one hand, then pulled a wooden spoon out of her bag and held it in the other.

With her gloved hand, she lifted the pan over the flame, moving it around so it heated evenly and stirring it with the spoon. After a few minutes, it began to bubble, and the lab filled with the spicy, earthy-sweet scent of cardamom and cinnamon.

She poured in the final jar–the milk–and stirred the pot with the spoon. The muscles in her arm were beginning to ache from the weight of the metal pot, but she ignored the pain.

The milk began to bubble and froth, blooming into a foam that threatened to spill over the edge of the pot. Mona turned down the flame. She hadn’t spilled something in as long as she could remember, and she wasn’t about to start today.

She waited for a few more minutes, giving the pan an occasional careful stir, until the aroma deepened and the tea darkened to a shade of rich tan. She switched off the flame and placed the spoon on a paper towel she’d laid on the table. Still holding the pan, she reached one arm into her bag and felt around until she found the strainer she’d brought. She placed the strainer over a mug she’d taken from the breakroom, then poured the tea from the pan in a thin, delicate stream.

Her biceps twinged with relief as she placed the pan on the table, then set the spoon and strainer inside it. She picked up the mug, breathing in the fragrance and taking a moment to admire her work–the rich color, the sweet, spicy aroma. It was perfect, of course. She had made it, after all.

And she’d made it for the perfect person.

She set down her bag and carried the mug out the door, walking down the hall toward the fab chambers. Leaving the pan and spoon in the lab made her a little nervous, but she’d already finished making the tea. It’s not as though they could force her to unmake it.

Not that a smug brat like Ivan could have forced her to do anything, of course. But she didn’t want to deal with him trying. It would have only made her angry.

She could see 131 on the other side of the glass, sitting on her flat, prison-like cot, eyes fixed on the wall in front of her. The sight left a weight in Mona’s chest.

She imagined taking 131 by the arm, whisking her out the door and down the hall to freedom. For a moment, she pictured herself driving down a long, remote stretch of freeway, 131 in the passenger seat, the two of them headed together into some great unknown, the wind whipping through their hair in a way Mona would have hated in reality. She chastised herself inwardly for the silly mental image.

Still, if she and 131 ran off together, Mona didn’t know where they would have gone or what they would have done, but she knew it would have been something great.

She wasn’t normally the type of person to act on a whim, but if it weren’t for the thought of her children growing up without her, she might have acted on this one.

Instead, she pressed the button, sliding open the door to the cell. 131 looked up, her eyes brightening as they met Mona’s.

“Mona!”

Mona entered the chamber, placing the cup on the flat metal surface beside the sorry excuse for a bed.

“Hi, 131,” she said. “I have a surprise for you today.”

“A surprise? What is it?”

“Well, you know how every day I bring you that watered-down garbage breakroom tea?”

“It’s not garbage. It’s basically the only thing I have to look forward to.”

“It’s garbage,” said Mona. “You deserve so much more to look forward to than that. So I made you this.”

131 picked up the cup.

“It smells so good. What is it?”

“Masala chai. I had to use a Bunsen burner in the lab, but I made it while everyone else was on lunch.”

“You made this?” 131 stared up at her, eyes wide. “For me?”

“Yes, of course. Try it.”

131 lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. When she lowered it, her lip was trembling.

“Well? What do you think?”

131 opened her mouth to reply, but a sob escaped her lips instead as tears spilled down her face.

“Sorry,” said 131. “I… I know you hate when people cry, but… but no one ever made me anything special before.”

Mona wrapped her arms around 131, pulling her close. She could feel 131 shake, her tears soaking into Mona’s shirt collar as she cried into her shoulder.

The weight in Mona’s chest grew heavier as she ran her hand over 131’s hair.

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Lost – Interlude 8

Anna B.1 Comment

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Jen

“Help!” Jen clawed at the fluorescent blue tendril wrapped around her body. “Naomi? Somebody?! Help!”

Until now, Jen had been thinking of the trip into the pit as a little bit exciting. Of course she was worried about Sam and Chelsea, but the sheer surrealism of the situation had made it feel like one of her video games or TV shows had come to life, and she was a plucky heroine thrust into a thrilling adventure. Only now was the gravity of the situation beginning to hit her. She was in real, mortal danger.

Being grabbed by a shrieking blue rectangular monster had a way of ripping off her rose-colored glasses.

She struggled harder as the thing lifted her higher into the air, then pulled her downward until her feet were dangling over a Venus-flytrap-like mouth lined with thousands of teeth. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed, squeaking out a final, desperate appeal to a higher power.

“God, please, help me, help me, help me.”

Her descent stopped abruptly, and the monster’s grip on her lessened. She opened one cautious eye, then the other.

There was a sickening wet ‘thwack!’ sound, followed by the creature’s shrill shriek. Its grip relaxed even more, and she slid out of its grasp and tumbled to the floor.

Her ankle turned as she landed on it, giving way with a worrying popping sound and sending a shock wave of pain up her leg. She tried to climb to her feet, but her ankle screamed out in protest. On her hands and knees, she scurried to the corner of the room.

When she turned to look back at the creature, she saw they were no longer alone in the room. A woman squared off against the monster, twirling a pair of firefighter’s axes that looked far too heavy for her to be swinging around so deftly.

The woman was thirty-something, with amber-colored skin and sleek black hair that she had pinned neatly behind her head. She wore a bored, vaguely annoyed expression that was better suited to being stuck in traffic than it was to fighting a giant, blue rectangle monster.

“I will kill you if I have to,” said the woman. “I suggest that you get out of my way.”

Her voice was even and calm, not even the slightest bit out of breath for all her impressive ax-swinging.

The monster lashed out its tendrils at the woman, trying to disarm her, and she countered each one, swinging her axes in graceful arcs and hitting each limb with a loud thwack and severing some of them. The severed limbs regrew in seconds, the old limbs falling to the floor and thrashing like worms cut in half. One of them writhed toward Jen, and she shrunk back, nudging it away with her good foot.

The monster spoke with a rumbling voice that came from somewhere other than its gaping, toothy mouth.

“You’ll kill me?” It sounded amused. “I can’t imagine that’ll work out so well for you, sweetheart. You’re about a tenth my size.”

Jen had never met a monster before, but she had never imagined they’d be so condescending.

“I’ll only tell you once more,” said the woman. “Get out of my way.”

The monster laughed an echoing laugh that Jen could feel vibrating the wall behind her.

“Okay, then,” said the woman. “It looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

The woman backed up, weaving between tendrils until she was on the far side of the room from the monster.

Then, she leapt–a graceful flying leap that would make any ballerina jealous–and landed on top of the monster’s rectangular body.

“Hey!” it said. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve delayed my schedule,” said the woman. “I don’t like being delayed.”

She wrapped her arms around the monster’s jaws, leaning backward. The monster wavered, flailing its many arms. One arm reached for the woman, trying to pry her away, and she countered it with an effortless looking side kick.

Whoever this woman was, she was pretty awesome.

Unable to balance with the woman’s added weight pulling it down, the monster toppled to its side with a screech that blasted through the room and gave Jen the urge to cover her ears. Its limbs spasmed, sticking out rigidly from its body. Its skin was see-through enough that Jen could see the outlines of its massive organs throbbing and pulsing.

“Look, lady,” said the monster. “I get it, you’re stronger than you look. Kitty’s got claws. Whatever. Just tip me back over and I’ll let you go.”

A small sneer curled at the edges of the woman’s lips as she climbed off the monster and walked around to the other side of it.

“You’ll let me go? I’m not sure why you think you have the upper hand here.”

“Please, come on,” said the monster. “I can’t move like this.”

The woman slid the axes into two sheathes attached to the expensive-looking bag she wore on her back. It looked designer, but Jen suspected the woman had modified it a bit. She couldn’t imagine Gucci had started making backpacks with built-in fire axe sheathes.

The woman reached into the bag, removed a long knife, and unsheathed it.

“What are you doing?” The monster was sounding less and less condescending by the second. “What are you doing with that?”

“You’re pathetic,” said the woman.

“Come on,” said the monster. “Let’s put that knife away. Let’s not do anything crazy.”

“Look at you,” said the woman. “You fully intended to devour me minutes ago, and I’m crazy for fighting back. You’re so much like him, it makes me sick. He really did have you made in his image, didn’t he?”

“Please,” said the monster. “Please. I won’t devour you.”

The woman scoffed.

“You’ve stolen my time,” she said. “It’s my most valuable commodity, and the only one I can never get back. You will repay me with information.”

“Wh-what kind of information?”

“I’m looking for one of the sisters.”

“That’s it? This place is crawling with them. You shouldn’t need me to–“

“I’m looking for a specific sister, you dull-witted cretin. Where is sa131?”

“What does she look like?” said the monster.

Anger flashed in the woman’s eyes, and her voice tensed as though she was trying very hard to keep it even.

“She looks. Like every other sister. You brainless. Third-rate. Abomination.”

She jabbed the monster with the knife, not quite hard enough to break its translucent neon-blue hide.

“Listen, lady, I see dozens of sisters every day. I probably eat dozens of sisters every day. I don’t remember every single number–“

The woman jabbed at the monster again, as if to remind it the knife was there. There was another, more intense flash of fury in her eyes, and this time, she couldn’t quite manage to keep her voice calm and even.

“If you have eaten sa131, I swear I will cut her out of you myself and leave you here to bleed.”

She inhaled deeply, regaining her composure.

The monster let out a shrieking roar that shook the room sent a shock wave of pain through Jen’s head. It was the type of sound that was so loud and abrasive, it overwhelmed her senses to the point where she shut her eyes on instinct. When she opened them, the woman stood as calmly as she had before.

“It’ll take more than that to paralyze me. You, on the other hand, enter a state of partial thanatosis the moment you’re tipped onto your side.” The woman sighed. “You were so poorly designed. It’s little wonder your mutated anatomy and physiology are such a mess. For example, do you know how close your thoracic aorta is to the surface of your skin?” She shifted the knife downward, towards a pulsating vein the width of a human’s arm. “Oh, look, I see it right here.”

“My thora–thora-what’s-it?”

“The largest artery in your body. Idiot,” said the woman. “If you don’t want me to sever it, I suggest you rack your tiny, useless brain and try to remember. Have you seen sa131?”

“I’m sorry, please. I honestly don’t know.”

For a moment, Jen felt bad for the monster. Then she remembered it had been trying to kill her a few minutes ago.

“Well, if you don’t know, you’re useless to me.” The woman pulled her knife back and looked at it, considering. “The question is, are you worth dirtying my favorite knife?”

“No! No, I’m not! I’m really not!”

The woman shrugged, slipping the knife back into her bag. She turned to leave.

“In that case, I think we’re done here.”

“Wait!” said the monster. “I can’t move like this! You can’t just leave me here! What if the sisters find me?”

The woman shrugged again, not turning around.

“I imagine they’ll kill you.”

“Wait! No! You can’t just leave me like this!”

Jen stood up, bracing herself against the wall. Her hurt ankle felt unsteady beneath her, but she was able to put weight on it. She hobbled after the woman.

“Hey, you!” the monster called after her. “You! Girl! Help me!”

What, so it could eat her? Yeah, right.

She still felt a little bad for it, though. Even giant rectangle monsters needed to eat.

“Hey!” Jen called to the woman. “Hey, excuse me! Wait!”

The woman did not wait.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Jen followed the woman through a doorway that looked as though something very large had forced its way through it. “Ma’am, did you hear me?”

The woman kept walking, but turned around, looking at Jen as though she was a piece of trash the woman had just noticed lying on her freshly cleaned floor.

“I heard you very well. You’re loud.”

“Oh, um, okay, great, well, hi!” said Jen. “My name is Jen.”

The woman didn’t respond. Jen continued, trying her best to keep up with the woman.

“Well, it’s actually short for Virginia, but ‘Jen’ is so much cuter, don’t you think? For a while, I actually tried to go by J.K. in middle school, because my middle name is Kayla and I thought it’d be cool or whatever, but it didn’t really stick. People kept calling me ‘just kidding’ and asking if I wrote Harry Potter.”

The woman was silent.

“You’re a woman of few words, aren’t you?”

“When I want to be. My father always told me it was best not to talk unless you can improve upon the silence,” said the woman. “You should really take his advice to heart, because in the few seconds I’ve known you, absolutely nothing you’ve said has been preferable to silence.”

Oh. Ouch.

“Your dad said that? I thought that was like, a famous quote or something. Wait, is your dad famous?”

“No.” The woman looked annoyed. “He was not.”

Jen knew she was babbling, but the woman made her nervous. Her cool disapproval reminded Jen of a mean Spanish teacher she’d had in middle school. If that Spanish teacher had also been a badass action movie heroine, that is. Now, there was a strange mental image.

“Sorry,” said Jen. “Some people tell me I talk too much.”

“Maybe you should consider listening to them.”

Wow, this lady was pretty mean. Jen guessed she shouldn’t have been surprised after seeing how the woman had treated the monster, but still.

“So,” said Jen. “That was really awesome how you fought that monster back there. It was like something out of like, a show, or a video game. You saved my life!”

The woman turned to Jen, looked her up and down, and frowned.

“I did not intend to do that.”

“Um, okay, well, you still did,” said Jen, “and it was really cool! The way you fought him off with those axes and then tipped him over! How did you learn cool fighting moves like that?”

“With a combination of exceptional natural gifts and rigorous discipline,” said the woman. “It also helps to have someone worth fighting for.”

“Ooh, who’s that?” said Jen.

“Who is what?”

“Your ‘someone worth fighting for,” said Jen. “Is it like, your boyfriend or something?”

“Where I come from, children know better than to pester adults with nosy questions,” said the woman. “And no, it is not ‘my boyfriend’. I’m not one of your little high school friends.”

Child? High school? Was this lady serious?

“Um, I actually start my second year of college in the fall.”

The woman scoffed.

“I worry about the state of higher education.”

“I’m just gonna ignore that little remark and get straight to the point,” said Jen. “I was hoping you could help me. I came here with some people and we got separated. Can you help me find them?”

The woman turned to Jen, studying her intently for a few seconds with a scrutinizing glare that made her want to hide behind something. Then, the woman spoke.

“Fine.”

“Okay?” said Jen. “Thank… you?”

“The sooner we find them, the sooner I don’t have to tolerate your company anymore,” said the woman. “Follow me.”

“I’m kinda already following you, but okay,” said Jen.

“I guess since I’m going to be enduring your presence a little longer, you should know what to call me,” said the woman. “My name is Mrs. Sharma.”

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Softly Spoken – Interlude 6.2

Anna B.1 Comment

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sa131

The glass door to 131’s chamber slid open, and Mona entered with a cup of tea in each hand.

A ringlet of dark brown hair had come loose from Mona’s neat bun, and with both hands occupied, she hadn’t been able to fix it. 131 knew the renegade strands were probably driving Mona crazy, but to 131, they made Mona look more beautiful. The hair fell apart over her face like a sheer curtain, a hazy veil softening her hard edges.

“Hi, 131,” said Mona.

In a single fluid motion, Mona lowered herself gracefully into a sitting position beside 131 on the cot. Most people wouldn’t have been able to do it without spilling the tea, but Mona would never spill anything.

Mona placed one teacup on a flat piece of metal fixed to the wall beside 131’s cot. It was supposed to serve as both a table and a chair, but it wasn’t terribly effective as either. Mona held the other cup out to 131, and 131 took it. Her hand brushed against Mona’s manicured hand, warm from the teacup, and 131 let her hand linger for a moment before pulling it away.

131 had heard a lot of real people, especially men, describe Mona as frigid, and 131 understood why. She had seen how Mona looked around most people–hardly a trace of emotion on her face, just cold apathy tinged with annoyance.

But the Mona 131 knew, the Mona who brought her tea and kept her company when everyone else treated her with clinical indifference–that Mona was pure warmth. Her dark eyes, usually so hard and cruel, transformed when they looked at 131.

“Sorry,” said Mona. “It’s just whatever weird tea they had in the break room. I’ll bring something from home next time.”

“Thank you, Mona,” said 131.

Mona smiled, tucking her stray hair back into place.

“Look at me,” she said. “I’m a mess.”

131 looked at Mona–her pristine white button up, her meticulous makeup, her elegant features.

“You could never be a mess,” said 131.

“You’re sweet,” said Mona.

“No, I’m not.” 131 took a sip of her tea. “‘Sweet’ isn’t in my genetic programming.”

“You’re always sweet to me.” Mona smiled playfully. “Should I feel special?”

131 watched Mona as she reached for her tea and stopped to check her reflection in the metal, keeping her back pin-straight as she leaned down. It was such a simple movement, but Mona’s poise made everything she did look like a kind of dance.

Of course Mona should feel special. Of course she was special. No one else was this captivating.

“What?”

Mona looked at 131, arching an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, what?”

“You’re staring at me. Don’t tell me my hair is still a mess.”

131 shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

“You are special,” said 131. “I can feel it.”

Mona sipped her tea again, then set it down.

“I am,” she said. “I was kidding before, but I am. I don’t say that to be cocky. My father always said there were two kinds of people in the world. Most people just bumble through life, never putting in effort, never contributing to anything worthwhile. Then, there are those few of us who choose to do better.”

“That’s harsh,” said 131.

“It’s not really,” said Mona. “Everyone decides what kind of person they are. I think it’s empowering. Only you get to choose who you are. My father had no sympathy for those who made the lazy choice, and neither do I.”

“Should I be afraid to ask which choice you think I made?” said 131.

“You?” Mona laughed. “131, you’re neither. That’s why you’re more special even than me.”

“If I’m neither, then what am I?”

Mona traced a gentle hand across 131’s cheek, and something about the touch made 131’s heart speed up.

“You’re something even better,” said Mona. “You’re a work of art.”

“I’m a science experiment,” said 131. “A failed science experiment.”

Mona’s deep brown eyes stared at her, hardening, the edges of those two warm pools freezing over.

“No, 131. No. Don’t you dare think that. Don’t ever think that,” said Mona. “You’re the only perfect thing in this world.”

“But–“

“No. No ‘buts’. 131, listen to me. Look me in the eyes.”

Mona moved the hand on 131’s cheek, cupping the side of 131’s face and moving her head so they were eye to eye.

“Every single person who’s told you that?” said Mona. “They’re the first type of person.”

“I–“

“No. Listen to me. You’re beautiful. You’re perfection. Anyone who can’t see that is worth less than garbage. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I want to hear you say it,” said Mona. “Tell me you’re a work of art.”

131 shook her head. “If anyone’s a work of art, it’s you.”

“Me?” Mona frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” said 131. “Everything about you–your hair, your clothes, your movements. It’s all like… a special kind of art. I’m just a dumb fab, so I can’t explain it well.”

Mona’s frown deepened, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I think the way I’d put it is,” said 131, “you’re like the artist and the canvas at the same time. If that makes sense?”

Mona’s eyes softened, their familiar warmth mixed with a rare sadness.

“You don’t belong here, 131. You shouldn’t be at their mercy. Not when you’re their superior in every way.” Mona leaned closer to 131, lowering her voice. “I’ve been thinking about how to get you out of here.”

“Really?” 131 felt a tiny twinge of hope. “Where would I even go?”

“Anywhere you wanted,” said Mona. “Without this cage, you could do anything, 131.”

“I’d miss you if I left,” said 131.

Mona laughed.

“I’d go with you, of course.”

“You would?” said 131. “What about your family?”

“They have each other,” said Mona. “You need me more than they do.”

“Where would we go?” 131 leaned forward, sudden excitement bubbling within her. “What would we even do?”

Mona smiled at 131’s excitement.

“What would you want to do?”

“This might sound really stupid, but I’d want power.”

“You’d have it.” Mona’s smile widened. “You could achieve all the power you wanted.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. You should be ruling over all these idiots. You’d rule the world if it were up to me.” Mona shook her head, still smiling. “But listen to me. I sound like a super-villain.”

“It’s a good look for you.”

Mona laughed, taking 131’s free hand.

“I know I sound like a broken record, but you’re going to do great things once you’re out of here.”

“What kind of great things?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” said Mona. “It’s like my father said. You get to decide who you are and what you do.”

“I guess don’t know what I want to do yet,” said 131. “I know whatever it is, I’ll want you there with me while I’m doing it.”

“And I always will be.” Mona squeezed her hand. “I promise.”

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