Girl of Flesh and Metal Read online

  Could I be wearing networked contact lenses without even knowing it? CyberCorp could have put them in my eyes while I was unconscious.

  But I would fix that first chance I got. I’d stop by the restroom before first period and remove the damn things.

  A nearby locker slammed, and I turned in the direction of the noise. Olivia Harris stood there. We first became friends because she was the only other black kid I knew within a mile of my neighborhood at the time. We were almost inseparable until the beginning of high school, when she fell in with the artsy crowd and Harmony dragged me into her circle.

  Usually, when Liv and I ran into each other these days, we nodded and went our separate ways. But today, her face was painted with concern.

  “I’ll meet you at our lockers,” I told Melody, who nodded and hurried ahead.

  “How are you?” Liv asked. She’d changed her hair again. She’d darkened it a couple shades, and she now wore it short and jet black with shock-blue tips that fell just below her chin. She made it work.

  “Getting better every day. You?”

  “I’m good. I was worried.” She gave me a one-armed hug and continued down the hall.

  She and I hardly spoke anymore, but it warmed my insides to know she still cared. She turned to wave at me before quickening her pace and disappearing around a corner.

  I caught up with Melody at our lockers. When I stepped within a couple feet of mine, the door didn’t pop open like it usually did. I waved my left arm at it, but nothing happened. The locker couldn’t read my ID chip through the metal arm, and I couldn’t fish the chip out of the arm in the middle of the hallway without everyone nearby noticing.

  Instead, I waited for Melody’s attention to shift to her locker contents, and then spun the combination lock on the door. Lucky for me, our lockers occupied the oldest section of the school. They had been converted to react to ID chips, but the combo locks still worked.

  I shrugged out of my jacket and stuffed it inside, then checked the sleeves of my blouse to make sure they extended all the way to the gloves. Unlike most other students at Hanover, my locker held more than just my outerwear.

  Although a couple of my textbooks were available only in digital format for reading on my hand-screen, I’d managed to track down hardcover copies of most of the others. There was something comforting about the smell and feel of real, physical books. One of the textbooks was for my first class, so I grabbed it and shoved it into my bag.

  Now that Melody and I were alone, her gaze pierced the side of my face. She could tell I was hiding something. Her most admirable—and annoying—quality was her empathy. She always knew when something was wrong.

  “I’m so sorry about letting you drive home alone with just Jackson that night,” she said. “He was drunk. We should have followed you and made sure you were okay.” She was feeling me out, trying to get me to open up.

  “You were barely conscious. It wasn’t your fault. And I have to tell you something else about the accident.” I stalled. I wanted to gauge her reaction before I told her everything.

  She stared at me, brown eyes wide.

  I changed directions. “You guys are getting a Model One, right?”

  “Yep. My dad placed the order even before preorder sales started.”

  “And . . . how do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about it. I guess it’ll be cool to have some robot doing my chores. I’d better still get an allowance though. What’s this got to do with your accident?”

  “So you’re okay with artificial intelligence?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. Why not? As long as the thing can do the dishes for me, what do I care about whether it’s intelligent?”

  Her face displayed no distaste for the Model Ones or AI in general—no strong feelings either way. That meant she probably wouldn’t give a damn about my arm. I shifted my position to face my locker, putting Melody on my left side, so that she was the only one in the hallway who could see my arm. Then I raised the bottom of my sleeve just enough to display a sliver of silver.

  Her eyes went wide. “What is that?”

  “That’s the reason they treated me at CyberCorp, instead of a normal hospital.”

  “It’s a metal prosthetic?”

  “More than that. It’s artificially intelligent.” I couldn’t parse her expression. Definitely amazement. I didn’t see any disgust there, so that was a good sign.

  “Can I touch it?”

  I pulled my sleeve up again. Her fingertips stretched toward it until they barely glanced the metal. I didn’t feel the touch, since I still didn’t have my skin grafts. But I could tell the instant of contact by the way she yanked her hand back. Neither of us spoke, and Melody stared down at the strip of metal where my wrist should have been.

  The seconds piled on top of each other, one after another without a word between us. She was going to reject me—call me names, tell me this changed everything. And it did.

  How could she accept me with this thing where my arm was supposed to be? I didn’t even accept me.

  Why didn’t she say anything?

  I turned away and began stuffing books into my backpack.

  Melody reached for the bag. “Let me help you.”

  I snatched it away from her and, in two large yanks, closed the bag’s zipper around my belongings. “I’m not an invalid,” I snapped.

  She didn’t deserve that. I almost apologized, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to have to confess my new reality to my friends. I didn’t want to wait with my heart in a vise while they judged me, one by one. I just wanted to hop into a time machine and go back to that night.

  Why couldn’t my parents invent one of those?

  “I have to go.” I spun away and hurried down the hall. “We’ll talk later,” I called over my shoulder.

  Melody’s voice followed me, calling my name, calling me back. I hated myself for running like a coward, but that was what I was, so that was what I did.

  I headed straight to the restroom. With five minutes left until class—and not wanting to spend that time with Melody—I might as well check into what the hell was happening to my eyes. If nothing else, it would distract me from the scene I’d made with Melody.

  In the mirror, I expected to see a silver ring around my irises, or the shadows that danced there when other people’s contact lenses displayed virtual objects. But even when I leaned in so my nose almost touched the glass, I saw nothing more than my dark-brown eyes and the white around them. No metallic ring, no shadows.

  With one hand, I pulled my lower eyelid downward to keep it open and touched the eyeball. I cringed away from the contact. There was definitely no thin film there to separate my eye from my finger. No contact lens.

  Then how could I see virtual objects?

  One thing I knew was that, before my accident, I hadn’t been able to see the banners, the vid-screens, and the shiny floor. Now, I could.

  I pulled out my hand-screen and called CyberCorp.

  “Hell—”

  “This is Lena Hayes. Get me Ron Franklin, please.” Irritation bubbled in my stomach, and I couldn’t help letting it seep into my voice.

  “Yes, Miss Hayes. Hold please.”

  Ron came on the line a minute later. “What’s wrong?” The receptionist must have told him I’d given her attitude, because he already knew I was upset.

  “Why am I seeing virtual objects?”

  “Oh, that?” He breathed a relieved sigh. “The chip is downloading objects from the EyeNet, just like networked lenses. Our androids need to be able to see them to interact with the world in the same way humans do—since humans see them. Since you have an android chip, you’re on the network too.”

  “I don’t want to be on the network,” I said, teeth gritted. “I don’t want my head connected to anything without me specifically saying it’s okay—and it’s not okay.”

  “Sorry about that. We had to upgrade you by
modifying the parts and software we had on hand. Starting from scratch would have taken years. It didn’t occur to us that the network connection would be an issue.”

  “Well, it is!” I realized I’d shouted, so I dialed my volume down a few notches. “Can you turn off the network connection?” I couldn’t mask the tremor of anger and annoyance in my voice.

  “Yes, but that would mean modifying the chip again, and we can’t go back in with another surgery until Dr. Fisher feels like you’ve recovered from the ones you already had. You still having those headaches?”

  I considered lying, but I didn’t fancy dying on a surgical table. “Yes. They’re not getting any better.”

  “Then no surgery for you anytime soon. But we can modify your software, so it won’t display the virtual objects. You’ll still be networked, but you won’t notice.”

  As much as I hated the idea of a network having access to my brain, I couldn’t do anything about that right now. This was at least a temporary solution. “Fine. I’ll stop by after school today. That okay?”

  “Absolutely. See you later.”

  For the rest of the day, I would just have to make peace with the fact that, on top of everything else, I didn’t have a monopoly on my own brain.

  7

  My stomach growled as I left my last morning class and headed back to my locker. I tossed my textbooks inside and slammed the door shut with a clang that vibrated in my head. I took a second to try the art of mind over body to calm the throbbing.

  I’d postponed telling my friends everything for long enough. Melody already knew the truth, and if I dawdled any longer, she would be the one to tell Harmony. Who knew what she’d say about it after the way I’d run off this morning? If I explained it to her myself, I could control the conversation. And this time, I’d do a better job of it.

  I reopened my locker. Before I could talk myself out of it, I yanked off my gloves and tossed them inside on top of my books. No turning back.

  A few minutes later, I strode into the cafeteria, head held high.

  No one paid attention to my hand as I weaved through the food stations and paid for my lunch. My pace slowed when I approached my usual spot in the back of the cafeteria. My friends were already sitting around the table, under the wall of plaques honoring the school’s major donors—like my parents.

  Silently, I practiced how I would explain my metal hand. You mean you don’t have a metal arm? It’s all the rage these days. In the end, I decided to improvise.

  “Hey, Lena.”

  I stopped moving toward my table and turned toward the voice.

  The boy I’d met in physical therapy stood there. He had changed his shirt from Superman to some other superhero whose name I couldn’t remember, but he still wore that goofy smile. He pointed at his chest. “Hunter.”

  “I remember.”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “No.” I shot a glance at my lunch table. My friends hadn’t noticed me yet, but I needed to join them before I lost my nerve. “No, I didn’t.”

  “That’s cool. You don’t have to call to talk about physical therapy, if you don’t want. We can talk about . . . whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Was he flirting with me? Why was he flirting with me? When we met, I didn’t remember him from school—even though I must have seen him in class a hundred times. I was rude to him in physical therapy. And I didn’t call after he offered to help. “What are you doing?”

  His smile twitched but solidified again like concrete. Unmovable. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “What are you doing? Why are you being so nice to me?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you might need a friend.”

  I gestured toward the lunch table I’d been aimed at when he caught me. Five people sat there already—Harmony, our friend Claire and her girlfriend, and Melody and her boyfriend.

  Hunter started a chuckle low in his chest and then smothered it before it could break loose. “Yeah, I guess I’m not exactly in their league. See you around.” He took off in the opposite direction, weaving his way through the tables with a deftness that was impressive given he’d just had a knee replaced.

  I closed my eyes and counted to three in my head to restore my resolve. Then, shoulders straightened, I hurried over to my friends and dropped my tray onto the table. Everyone glanced up as the tray clattered down.

  Even Melody, who already knew the truth, gaped at the unhidden metal.

  Claire flipped her short dark hair out of her eyes, so she could peer closer. “You know Halloween was three months ago, right?”

  “That’s her arm,” Melody said.

  The others stared at me, open-mouthed. No judgment. Just confusion. So far, so good.

  I slid into my chair and hoped my bright smile would be contagious. “The accident was more serious than I let on. The whole left side of the car was mangled, including . . .” I waved my left arm in the air. “My folks hid me away at CyberCorp, so they could put me in a medically induced coma while they replaced it.”

  When I finished talking, my friends still stared with unreadable faces.

  My mouth went dry, but I filled up the silence with chatter anyway. “It’s artificially intelligent. I have a chip in my head to control it. After only a couple weeks, I barely have to think about moving it. When I first woke up, I had to concentrate so hard, even stare at it . . .” I finally managed to obey the voice in my head that kept telling me to shut up, shut up, shut up.

  With a reassuring smile, Melody reached over and clasped my metal hand in hers. Harmony’s and Claire’s faces pinched with concern.

  I let out a long breath and willed myself to relax.

  “Does it . . . I mean . . . Are you feeling okay?” Harmony asked.

  “Fine mostly. I get bad headaches sometimes and this throbbing in my shoulder.” When Melody’s eyes widened, I added, “But it’s nothing to worry about it. Mostly, I just hate the idea of having tech permanently attached to me.” That was putting it lightly.

  Harmony squinted at the arm, gaze rolling up and down it.

  I took the hint and pushed my sleeve up to the bicep. The fluorescent lights overhead brought out the hint of yellow in the silver metal.

  “Killer.” Harmony stroked the forearm and then rapped on it with her knuckles. “You’re totally upgraded. Does it do anything?”

  I didn’t appreciate her word choice—upgraded—but I was too thrilled with the positive response to correct her. I’d overreacted. My friends loved tech. Why had I expected them to be as upset about this as I was? “Only the things my natural arm did. I wouldn’t want it to do anything—”

  Melody’s screech cut off my words. She tried to pull from my grasp, and for the first time, I noticed how tightly I was holding her with my metal hand. I released my grip, and she clutched her hand to her chest.

  “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” I hadn’t realized how far I’d come since struggling with two-pound weights back in physical therapy. “I didn’t know I was that strong.”

  Melody flinched away from me when I reached out to comfort her, and I couldn’t blame her. She must have realized she’d done it because, a moment later, she offered me a weak smile.

  “Let me see.” Harmony beckoned her sister to her. “Does it hurt?”

  Melody stayed seated beside me but flexed her fingers. “It’s fine. No big deal.” I could see her trying to look nonchalant, her face devoid of emotion while her hand trembled. I must have hurt her worse than she was letting on.

  Everyone else saw it too, because the atmosphere at the table took a flying leap from curious to awkward. Melody looked down at the table, while Harmony stared at her sister. Claire leaned back in her seat, putting more distance between us.

  The silence lasted for no less than eight seconds. I know because I counted them, and my stress rose with each beat.

  “So . . . what was it like living at CyberCorp?” Melody asked. Her smile became too bright, l
ike a hundred-watt lightbulb held in our faces after pitch darkness, and it took us all a moment to focus.

  “Wait,” Claire said before I could answer. “Is that why you didn’t want us to visit? Because of the new arm?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t ready to explain it. Still not sure I’m ready, but my folks are issuing a press release next week, so I’m out of options.”

  Harmony’s eyes flicked from her sister to me. “So you lied to us.”

  “I omitted.”

  “How is that different?”

  “Don’t fight, you guys,” Melody said. “Today’s supposed to be happy. Lena’s back and we’re all together.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Harmony said. “We’re clarifying the situation.” She flinched and then glared across the table at her sister.

  Melody’s expression looked completely angelic, and I got the impression she’d just kicked Harmony under the table. “Come on, guys. Hug it out.” She gestured for Harmony and me to stand.

  I got to my feet.

  Harmony stayed put, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re not fighting.”

  Melody glared at her until she moved.

  Harmony stood, kicked back her chair, and met me halfway around the table. She slung her right arm up and over my left shoulder for the embrace. Even though her pressure on my shoulder was light, the pain there and in my head had been blossoming all day.

  Now, it burst open like floodgates, and white spots filled my vision.

  My left arm reacted as if on autopilot. My shoulder dipped, and I slipped out of Harmony’s grasp. My metal hand shot upward and gripped her around the wrist. Before I could stop the motion, I stood at her back, holding her arm behind her, wrenching her shoulder.

  Harmony’s shriek cut through the other students’ chatter in the cafeteria.

  The sound shocked me back into control. I pushed all my concentration into a command to my arm: Let go. My fingers relaxed.