Chapter 28
Electra
Electra takes his hand, bravely guiding him into the hazy room. A dusky, acrid smell hits her instantly. Along the exterior wall, there are hairline cracks every few feet, letting a fine trail of outside air seep in. Must not be bad enough to cause lung damage and not bad enough to fix.
Scanning the room, she notes two men sitting at a small round table in the corner that seem as out of place as they are. It’s the quality of the material of their jumpsuits and the dark-haired one’s slightly crooked nose. Something about the old injury makes her instantly think he’s a reincarnate.
But what if she’s wrong? What if the man’s nose is some type of disguise? Send the NHOS inspector with the crooked nose. The other reincarnates will think he’s one of them, then you can catch them! God, she’s clutching her bag to her chest like a shield.
She’s about to tell Res6 she’s changed her mind. It’s too risky, but he presses his hand to the small of her back and whispers, “You can do it.”
He’s right. Just think of Ella facing the entire enemy hoard with bravery and grit.
She takes a few quick steps forward—the dark-haired man’s eyes brighten with excitement.
That can’t be good. Her stomach seems to agree, pitching and diving.
He leans slightly forward, as if he wants to encourage her, and that’s enough to have her making a sharp turn and darting toward the door.
God, Electra. This is a perfect opportunity, and you’re wasting it.
Her critical inner voice is decidedly not Janet, who would tell her to be gentle with herself or some nonsense.
Heaven forbid her self-preservation instincts fire occasionally.
Granted, that was terrible timing. They probably weren’t NHOS inspectors.
But maybe they were. Mentally, she groans. Res6 is right. It’s too risky.
Her march doesn’t end until they’re in the garage, waiting for Res6’s private SAT. Thankfully, he says nothing, but that makes her feel even guiltier for chickening out than she already does.
Finally, when they climb inside, she slumps back into the seat, defeated. As they zip away in retreat, she finally speaks. “I guess I’m not a heroine after all.”
December 1, 2390.
What could be more detrimental to a heroine than losing a battle with herself? Is she even fit to give out advice? The way she ran the second the man with the crooked nose fixed his gaze on her could only mean one thing: she’s a coward. Ella never would have retreated like that.
She tossed and turned all night, unable to get the self-berating thoughts out of her mind. Exhaustion has her pulling the covers over her head as the morning light sequence brightens the room.
Even as Res6 knocks on her door and tells her he’s leaving for work, she doesn’t budge. Why is she like this? It’s as if any adversity turns her into an immovable, depressive lump. He shakes the lump of covers that is her languid form. “Electra, stop beating yourself up.”
The last thing she wants to do is settle like a cloud over his day. He did his part to get the meeting. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”
When he doesn’t budge, she says, “When I saw his once-broken nose, I thought it was meant to trick us into a false sense of security. It was dumb.”
Beside her, the bed sinks. “I shouldn’t have let you read that article.”
She groans. “I’m the one who let it mess with my head. It wasn’t your fault.”
“We’re not Zorg and Zephyr.”
She pops her head out of the covers. “What?”
His chuckle momentarily outshines the negative self-talk that’s been replaying in her mind since her fear got the best of her.
“You aren’t a non-deity who can control everything. You’re human, remember? You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He leans down and kisses her, which feels pleasantly domestic. “Do you want me to call Tommy and tell him I won’t be in?”
His offer makes warmth bloom in her chest. At least she has him—the parts he’s willing to share. “No, I’m okay. I just needed to wallow a bit. Disappointing yourself is a hard thing to live with. I’ll get up and do a little writing.”
“I had the same thought about his nose. The flaw felt too convenient.”
“Exactly. When we made eye contact, he seemed almost eager. It threw me off.”
“Agree,” he says. “I’d rather you follow your instinct than force yourself to do something you feel is unsafe out of stubbornness. Just promise me you’ll get out of your head.”
“I will,” she promises. “When you get back, I’ll be at my desk pouring all my angst into my characters.”
He kisses her again and slips out the door.
He’s right. It’s the article’s fault, not to mention the barren room full of suffering reincarnates. Still better to wallow for another hour for good measure. Maybe she needs to build up to the IdenTECH meeting. She hasn’t even ventured out into the city without her trusty protector.
She should invite her new friend Sister Xelna out for lunch while Res6 is at work. That would be a good start. And if after a few days, inspectors don’t show up at their door, she’ll feel safer assuming that the ID people were legit.
December 2, 2390.
Electra rolls over, blindly reaching for her device in the pitch dark.
Since she figured out how to control the room’s light settings, the space is pleasantly cave-like.
Blue light glows from the glass screen as she starts the Slow Good Morning sequence that will softly brighten the room, giving her eyes time to adjust. Checking her messages, she finds a DM in FrogBlog from Sister Xelna waiting for her.
Her heart leaps. She’s agreed to meet for lunch today. Excellent.
The clock on her nightstand blares a bright 10:09 at her. She must have fallen back asleep after Res6 left for the day. She jumps out of bed, rushing to get ready, so she can get a column done before she leaves for her 13:00 lunch date.
She triple-checks her bag for her tablet so she can unlock the unit when she returns and a water in case she gets lost. Her device goes on a chain she wears cross-body. Oh, and a lip gloss. She runs to the bedroom, snatching one off the counter. Not procrastinating out of fear at all.
Finally, she is standing before the door to the unit, stomach squirming.
God, making new friends as an adult is hard.
“Fuck it.” She turns the handle, and she’s off.
Fifteen minutes later, her heart is hammering as she wades through the crowded cafeteria toward the agreed-upon café.
She glances around but doesn’t see the woman from the profile picture, so she takes a small table in the corner, deciding to wait.
At 13:12 she’s about to give up when Sister Xelna approaches from across the room.
The tattooed cat whiskers on either side of her button nose are instantly recognizable, not to mention the body-hugging leopard unitard she’s sporting.
As she gets closer, Electra can see her black nails are sharpened to fine points, which match her spiky hair, and she’s pulling some type of animal behind her.
Electra takes a deep breath. She gathered this woman was a bit of an oddball, but she seemed so friendly and empathetic.
Electra always gravitates toward people others might consider different, so she decided to give the woman a chance.
Which means she needs to give the robot-cat thing she’s walking a chance too.
“Sister Xelna!” she greets brightly. “I’m so happy to finally meet you in person.”
“Dear Electra!” the priestess chimes back.
“You look just like your avatar! I’m delighted you reached out.
Come here.” She pulls Electra into a hug so warm it almost makes her want to pinch herself.
Is this her first real future friend? When Sister Xelna finally releases her and they take a seat, she picks up the creature and sets it in the chair next to her.
Electra eyes it as it puts a tentative paw on the table, then two.
Sister Xelna notices her staring. “Down, kitten,” she says, instructing the machine, before making little paw-fists and tucking them under her chin.
Using baby talk, she says, “Just like this.” The robot-cat does as the woman commands, and she gives it an ear scratch as a reward.
Then she turns to Electra, who is torn between horror and fascination.
“My followers pooled their money and bought me her. Synth-cats are incredibly rare. Since ASI Personal Companions were banned, the company that made them went out of business. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? ”
Electra blinks. “What’s her name?”
“A-Pawstle Calico. She’s the official mascot of The Sacred Order of Feline Transcendence, and she’s such a good girl,” Sister Xelna croons. The synth-cat arches, letting the priestess stroke its patchwork fur. Its green electric eyes blink up at Electra expectantly.
Obligated out of respect, Electra reaches down and pats the robot’s head. It purrs, and she can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it.
When she turns her attention back to her lunch companion, she’s placing an order. She finishes rattling off a list of items and turns to Electra. “Anything else?”
She shakes her head, glad Sister Xelna has taken away the pressure of ordering. “No, that all sounds good.”
The server walks away, then the priestess’s full attention falls back on her. Her metallic green–lined eyes narrow, and she leans forward. “You’re not from now, are you?”
Electra swallows. “I, uhh . . .” she splutters.
“I know things.” Sister Xelna taps her whiskers. “I’ve also read your blog, which blatantly advocates for ideas from the past—not that I disagree—and you’ve also obviously never seen a synth-cat before.”
Electra glances around the room, and she must look like she’s about to bolt because the other woman reaches across the table, grabbing her hand.
“Don’t you worry your adorably freckled face.
I won’t tell a soul. I’ve been theorizing that a new presence was emerging.
Naturally, I thought it was our feline companions, resurrected using old DNA samples that were altered so cats could reemerge outdoors.
But then I read about the reincarnates. Sadly, it seems I was mistaken, but I say upon meeting you, I am very intrigued.
I find many of your ideas worth exploring and, based on your growing popularity, it seems others do too. ”
Electra swallows. “I heard that when NHOS officials catch one of us, they’re keeping us in holding cells almost like a prison.” She offers this bit of information as a self-preservation tactic.
Sister Xelna shakes her head disapprovingly. “That isn’t right. It’s not like those poor people chose to show up in the future. NHOS should make them citizens, no questions asked.”
Her staunch position eases Electra’s anxiety.
It seems she has an ally in this woman. As her new friend prattles on about the ethics surrounding reincarnates, she finds clever ways to tie it back to her cat cult and offer prescriptions for what she would do if she were in charge.
Fortunately, she never connects Electra to CHOICElover or any of the other manupartner companies.
Res6 would be horrified if he knew the risk she’s putting them in by admitting the truth, but Xelna clearly isn’t an NHOS spy and is on her side.
Plus, listening to Xelna talk gives her the most normalcy she’s felt since she’s been awake in the future.
Maybe she’ll even work up enough gusto to attempt another IdenTECH meeting.
She has a boyfriend, a growing column, and now a real-life friend.
It’s almost as if everything’s going to be okay.