Chapter 15 #2
“Here.” He waved his hand. “Death is hard for all of us. Us androids don’t age, so there is a mismatch between us.
We are hoping that by taking good care of our humans, by extending their lives as best we can, we can one day find a way for them to live longer with us.
Or at least learn more about aging that we didn’t know before. ”
“Learn? Like everyone has from all the medical testing done on me?”
“Similar, yes.” Sterling smiled. “Our humans are raised knowing this though, and you are not. I’m sorry it has been such an adjustment.”
Her horror was reflected in the glass pane of the room. So they experiment? Out of caring?
Now what Pearl and Ria said earlier felt even more like reality.
The neurochip. The replacement fears. The humans here on Mars were literally dying.
Without Nora and Anna and Tilly coming here, there soon wouldn’t have been any humans in this area of the facility at all.
Being their successors wasn’t something she was doing on purpose—the androids had picked up Anna and the others to help them—but there was no denying that the baby in her belly would be a new generation to add to the photos lining the ghost walls.
Another generation of more data for their files.
Anna shook her head. “I’ve never seen this before.”
“It bothers you?”
She swallowed. “Yeah. Also, I’m confused. What did all of these humans do here before they got old? Do we work? Are we just in this room? I see the rooms with all the pictures, but what did everyone do?”
Sterling frowned. “I’m unsure what you’re asking. We live here.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “We will take care of you; there is no need for you to struggle anymore like you did on Earth.”
Anna resisted the urge to shrug his compassion off. “I’m sure you know that I like to bake? Can that be something I do? I . . . don’t just want to stay here and be taken care of.”
Sterling’s eyes focused and unfocused. “Oh. Yes. Atlas had mentioned in your reports. Hobbies are encouraged, of course. We have a kitchen down the hall.”
There was still a kitchen here. A way for her to contribute and do something.
Her gut loosened at hearing that. But the anxiety ramped up again as she looked back in the room and her eyes stilled on something she didn’t notice before.
A baby crib, adorned in pink. That can’t be. . . “Sterling? Is that a crib?”
He followed her pointed finger to the crib at the edge of the room. “It is! We had it brought out of storage once we heard you were expecting.”
“But, wait!” Anna’s head whipped around. “The baby stays with me, right? That’s only for emergencies?”
Sterling’s eyes zoomed in and out again.
“Right?” she echoed. She began to feel more lightheaded the longer he didn’t respond.
Finally, he smiled. “Of course. Even if we do not have biological components, we know children should be with their mothers.”
“Then why the crib?”
“For extra care, of course.” A monitor in the other room beeped. Sterling turned his head.
What does that mean? Anna echoed, “Extra care?”
“Yes." He turned back. "We won’t leave you alone to raise a child yourself. That would be too burdensome. Human infants need so much.”
“But back home, babies stay with their mothers. We take care of them . . .”
“Well, yes.” Sterling said. “But you are on Mars now.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we are happy to be involved.”
Alice poked her braided head out of the room. “The meds are due; did you want me to do them?”
“No, I’ll help.” Sterling stepped back. “Excuse me, Anna. I’ll see you at dinner.” He smiled before returning to the glass room.
Anna watched him go before turning and slinking away. Only if extra care is needed. And who decides that? She pressed in on her belly. After the chip talk earlier, what should I trust? Her mind spun, and for once it wasn’t with thoughts of Paul. Are they going to be deciding things for my baby?
The little crib, in line with dying humans, was pushed to the side like the ultrasound machine from the ship.
She slowly walked back along the picture-lined hallway to Nora.
They wouldn’t keep my baby in there—would they?
Away from me? Simon had said more than once that androids couldn’t lie.
But her gut was spinning. The nausea roared back.
And every footstep down that hallway with the photos of the babies echoed in the emptiness.
No work. Only hobbies. We’ll take care of you. A crib in a glass room for extra care, surrounded by aged humans who had androids invasively keeping every single cell of them alive.
No one had the resources or will to keep anyone alive indefinitely. Was this normal? The walkways were hushed, adding to her unease. The entire human area in this facility was set up with an efficiency that made Anna’s eyes twitch.
Glass walls. Neurochips. She thought back again to Atlas.
He did say he didn’t think there was anything wrong with us.
Despite everything, Atlas had been the one person helping them the most. He told us about the chip after that human woman brought it up.
And he disagreed. Right? I gotta ask him about it again.
She wanted someone to trust here. She needed someone besides just Nora and Simon.
Someone on the inside of whatever this facility was.
She looked down at her palm, at the perfect scar where the stitches had been placed. Atlas isn’t bad.
Or was she trying to convince herself to trust him because something in her felt warm when thinking about him?
She walked back to the main room where Nora was still sitting with Tilly, watching the feeds. The room felt even bigger and emptier now knowing that the multitudes of desks in here must have also been used by the now-dead residents.
“Hey Nora.” Anna sank back on the sofa, stone-faced. Even the silly pictures dancing on the feed that made Tilly laugh didn’t fully penetrate. She tapped on Nora’s arm, pointing back down the hallway. “Walk down the hall all the way. You gotta see something. I’ll sit here with Tilly.”
“. . . What’s up?”
“Just go and look.”
Nora left and then came back a half hour later with a matching frown to Anna’s on her face. “That’s . . . something else.”
Anna settled back into the sofa. Nausea tugged at her, stronger than ever. And this time it wasn’t just from the pregnancy. “Yeah.”
Her throat was tight. More is wrong here than that chip. She leaned over to whisper in Nora’s ear, up close so the cameras couldn’t hear. Her voice was rough. “I think this entire place is a cage.”