Chapter 7 Elanie
I charged down the staff quarters hallway back to my pod, trying not to look like someone who had their doctor’s mirror hidden behind their back. Knowing that if a single being saw it and asked me what I was about to do with it, my biosynapses would frag themselves in a puff of white smoke.
“Hi, Elanie!”
My breath froze in my lungs while I turned my head to find Rax waving at me as he stood outside a security storage closet.
While Morgath rolled his eyes and slapped a scanWand into his brother’s other hand, Rax said, “You look nice today.”
I didn’t break my stride, just said, “thanks,” and kept walking.
“Did you hear that?” Rax asked Morgath. “She said ‘thanks.’”
Morgath snorted, then muttered, “You are such a hopeless dingus.”
When I finally reached my pod, I was panting, sweating, even trembling. I ducked inside, slid my door shut, and plastered myself against it. Dr. Semson’s mirror shook in my hand.
On an analytical level, I knew that looking at a body part with a mirror wouldn’t make any noise. But some illogical part of my consciousness believed that Rax and Morgath would somehow hear me doing it. That every being on deck twelve would hear me.
Accessing the remote app in my VC, I turned on my TV, cranked up the volume, and tiptoed silently to my bathroom.
Turning around in a full circle, I considered the counter, the tub, the toilet.
Where should a being sit for something like this?
Or would it just be best to stand? Yes. Standing made the most sense.
Reaching back to release my zipper, I let my pants fall to the floor. Then I pushed my underwear down my legs. Stepping out of the puddle of fabric, not bothering to take off my heels, I placed one foot on the edge of the tub, closed my eyes, and took a sharp, fortifying breath.
Positioning the mirror between my legs, I cracked one eye open, then the other. And then…I looked.
What looked back at me was nothing like Dr. Semson’s drawing. There was hair, for one thing. And two mounds of flesh hid everything else. Mounds that I would have to pull apart to see anything deeper. Stars save me.
Slamming my eyes closed again, I reached between my legs with my other hand and carefully spread myself apart. When I peeked down this time, I dropped the mirror, watching the situation between my legs get farther and farther away as the mirror clattered to the floor.
I cried into my VC.
she commed back.
Five billion nanoseconds elapsed without a response.
she finally commed.
I said, not understanding why she sounded so flustered. If anyone should sound flustered here, it was me.
she asked.
I snapped, wishing for once that Sunny could concentrate on the problem at hand in an efficient, focused way.
A bionic way. I glanced down at the mirror on the floor.
Thankfully, it hadn’t broken.
she said evenly.
Sunny insisted. Then, in a more soothing tone, she commed,
Sitting on the edge of the tub, I commed,
she commed.
Her voice dropped half an octave.
I groaned.
she conceded.
I shuddered from my head to my toes.
Sunny chuckled. Then, after a moment, she asked,
A fact I was fairly relieved to learn when he VMed me ten minutes ago.
she commed, but I didn’t think she meant it.
I almost fell off the tub.
I wasn’t sure I could face him after my close encounter with his mirror. What if he asked about it? What if he could tell that I’d tried? What if I had to explain to him that what I saw made me feel worse rather than better?
I lied.
Sunny purred.
I pinched the bridge of my nose so tightly it hurt.
she relented.
After a quick shower, during which I did not attempt to get to know any part of my body better than what was strictly required, I got dressed, threw my hair up in a twist, and stepped into my heels. I was about to turn off my TV and head out when something on the screen snagged my attention.
“This is the tenth known instance in the last Standard month of a bionic leaving their LunaCorp vessel without notice,” the newsbot said. “They’ve been disappearing in hacked escape pods or, and more distressingly, simply venting themselves into space.”
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I turned up the volume.
“LunaCorp has declined to comment on the missing and decommissioned bionics, but Vchirp is abuzz with rumors that this is the beginning of a widespread bionic rebellion. Especially after union negotiations for improved benefits and a maximum sixty-hour work week fell apart last year.”
“A bionic rebellion? Please.” I puffed out a breath. “What bionic has the time to rebel?”
“Conspiracy theorists are raising alarms,” the newsbot went on. “Pointing to unexplained bionic losses dating as far back as the Asteroid Belt Wars. No bionic has returned to their ship since these recent disappearances began. Until now.”
“Sure,” I mumbled, not believing a word but still watching.
“Tonight, I have an exclusive interview with a very lucky bionic who was saved from certain death by the heroics of her crewmembers when she tried to walk out of the airlock on her LunaCorp cargo ship last week. We will learn all about her harrowing ordeal, including the mysterious word she remembers hearing: Golgu—”
Turning off the TV, I rolled my eyes. The story was obviously fiction.
Some widespread AI hallucination. Bionics didn’t leave their posts.
Bionics didn’t walk out of airlocks. Bionics did what they were told.
They did their jobs. Which, I reminded myself as I walked out of my pod, was exactly what I was supposed to be doing.
“Elanie! Over here!” Tig shouted, waving at me from across the small ballroom on deck five, her pink hair sticking straight up in a six-pointed mohawk.
As I made my way toward the table to join Sunny, Tig, and Co-Captain Isla Jones, I slowed, nearly stopped, nearly turned around.
They were laughing, happy, without a care in the worlds.
They weren’t suffering from existential vagina dread.
They probably loved their vaginas. Looked at them every night and told them they were beautiful.
Had pet names for them like Lulu or Pookie.
What was I doing here? I couldn’t stand being around intoxicated beings.
My boyfriend wasn’t coming. And everyone around me was smiling and having fun and igniting my irritation like an atomic blast. And to top it all off, there he was, holding some ridiculous fruity drink at the bar, his silver-blue eyes glittering from the sparklers sticking out of his glass.
Dr. Semson.
He’d been grinning, but the grin slipped when he noticed me. Probably because I was scowling at him. As I tried to fix my face, Isla said, “Elanie, you look gorgeous,” while Sunny pulled a chair out for me.
I didn’t look gorgeous. In my black pants and the plain red top that was at the front of my closet, I looked barely presentable.
But Isla Jones had been trained by the New Earth Space Administration to modulate her own vitals, so even my internal detector couldn’t tell if she was lying.
This usually annoyed me about her. I appreciated it tonight.
“Thanks,” I said, faking a smile the way I always did. The way I had to. In order to feel comfortable, most non-bionics needed those around them to smile at regular intervals. Like smiling, activating certain facial muscles, looking happy, somehow made everything okay.
“I’m glad you came,” Sunny whispered in my ear after I sat down. “I was worried you might have been scared off.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumbled.
“Where’s Blake?” Tig asked, searching the room for him like he might be hiding beneath one of the tables. “Is he coming?”
“No,” I said. “He had to work.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. He seems really nice.”