Page 2 of Repossess My Heart

Could they get wet?

I’ve seen them spread wide, both for cleaning and for fucking. They look just the same as any other girl down there, if you factor out any human error or imperfections. No unseemly red bumps from hair removal, most of them bare and impossibly smooth. A few have hair, mostly the duo bots that come with bothappendages. I wait for a response from my body, finding none. My breath escapes me in a drawn-out sigh, climbing the pole as it spins slowly, only to slip down and catch myself at the last second. My legs are already burning from the effort, but that’s what I get for skipping most rehearsal days. Going out is dangerous, so I don’t unless I have to.

Keep her hidden, keep her safe. The only directives given to my bot before my mother bled out atop the threadbare sheets on her bed.

I let muscle memory take over, biting my bottom lip to hide a scowl as a man passes his info chip over the receiver at the bottom of one of the bot’s stages. Feeding more credits to the house, considering bots have no use for them. Crace swears all bot credits go to the upkeep of the club. Better security, training and outfits for the girls. Both mechanical and otherwise. It’s all bullshit. He pockets everything he can, scrambling for what the old world called pennies like he’ll never see another cent. When the holo ad pops down, I start my shift in earnest, ignoring the leering eyes and catcalls. The hooting and the hands that inch just a little too close. The longer I dance, the further my heart sinks into my gut. The further I slip into the numbness that plagues my mind.

There’s got to be more than this.

Running.

Hiding.

Dancing.

Showing myself off, parading like a piece of meat for poorly chemically engineered food.

For a moment my thoughts go to that forbidden place again, the same one it always ends up in, despite my willing the thought away. If I let them catch me, would it really be so bad?

The Repo Men are terrifying, sure, but I wouldn’t feel scared for long… if at all. They’re supposed to do what they can to keep the target alive, but everyone knows they don’t. Not much to keep a person alive without a heart anyhow. It’s nothing more than appeasing propaganda the Officials spew to make us seem less… like filth to those Above.

Savages undeserving of the sun.

****

The walk home always burns more than the walk in. My muscles strained and aching with each step. I avert my eyes as a young woman that couldn’t be more than sixteen slips into one of the many illegal body shops that line the alleys. The girl’s dark eyes brimming with wonder. For a moment, my hand slips to the plasma knife on my side, knowing if I moved fast enough, I could drag her out. There’s only two men out front…

But then what?

Tell her some sob story and hope she doesn’t just walk right back over?

Beg her not to do it?

Tell her she doesn’t need it. That whatever it is… it’s not worth it.

My heart drops further. Despite me never really feeling what comes with that sensation, not for longer than a moment, anyway. My hand slips off the handle of the blade I paid a heavy price for. How long will it take for her to default? Will she end up on the street yearning for the mist they give out like candy after the off-record surgeries? The sickly-sweet smell that makes it seem like it could be candy, like maybe one taste wouldn’t be so bad. That’s whathetasted like, Arizide Mist. I can still feel the man’s sweat slicking my skin as he ground into me without caution, ripping through my barrier with a violence that stole the tears from my eyes and breath from my lungs. I sold my virginity to an Arizide junkie for a fucking knife and four hundred credits.

And I would do it again.

Even knowing that memory still haunts me. That no matter how many times I scrub my skin, I can’t forget him. That he’s likely already forgotten me, not that I particularlywantedto be remembered by him. It’s the idea of it that bothers me so much, I suppose. I gave him something that was… special at the ripe age of fifteen, no less. Instead of taking it with reverence, with care, he ripped it from me the way a starved man would rip into a steak. A cold familiar sweat hits me as I haul myself over the low baring wall that surrounds my building, pausing just on the other side, my heart racing in my chest. My door, five stories up, seems like a beacon of safety tonight more than it ever has. To be so close and so far the hell away. My lungs empty as I slink back further against the wall where the flashy neon lights don’t touch. It brings little to no comfort as my skin prickles with awareness.

Someone noticed me.

I can feel it just as well as I felt the reasonwhyI can feel it. Tech that wasn’t meant for a human body. The thick tech my bot fused into my spine. The way my back still aches from time to time. It was the day its lights flickered off and never came back on.She- it gave me a gift, an advantage in an advantage free world. A damaged piece of tech that’s kept me alive this long. Above knows I would’ve been gutted half a dozen times if it weren’t for that gift. An awareness reserved for the enhanced, bots and Officials. A funky half rotted warning system that worksmostof the time.

And a secret that’s far more likely to get me killed than save my life.

My hand again finds the handle of my knife, hoping like hell I don’t need to use it. That whoever, whatever it is, will just leave me alone. Actually hoping for some creep from the club. I flinch at the sound of the announcement sirens slapping my hand over my mouth to conceal a yelp. The same sultry alluring voice comes overhead. The metal and cement bones of my building light up as the large holo ads start playing the same way they will all over the Below. Standing out against the thousands of floating ad bots and holo projectors.

“Better bodies, better you. Official sanctioned enhancements are affordable, safe and better than ever…”

I suck all the air I can deep into my lungs before I break from the wall, shoving off it as that awareness makes it nearly impossible to not turn around. The human need to see who I’ve caught the attention of needles at me. My body screaming for me to try to gauge what kind of danger I’m in.

I don’t.

Never turn around.

My hands grip the burnished metal piping and thick hoses that cover the buildings like vines from Above as I heave myself up. My already exhausted muscles tighten with effort as I climb to the first levels platform. That awareness settling deep into my bones. I take a few steps back, bending until my fingers lightly trail through the loose, damp sediment of the rooftop. My breath comes in pants as I push off, pumping my legs as the next hover lift scales rapidly by. A jump I’ve made thousands of times that never ceases to scare the absolute dog shit out of me for a few seconds. When my hands grip the side of the small platform, it dips wildly before equalizing my weight and when I hoist myself up, I immediately break my rule.

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