Page 19 of Elanie & the Empath
“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 totheir 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.Theyweren’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 alloff, 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,lookinghappy, 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.”
I considered that for a moment. Was Blake nice? It wasn’t a word I’d ever used to describe him. What word might I use to describe my boyfriend? I thought about it for a moment, getting no further thanmale,available, andinterestedbefore abandoning the exercise as a waste of time.
“Would you like something to drink?” Sunny asked, flagging down a serving drone.
“VitoWater,” I told the drone, who beeped a few times before zooming off toward the bar.
While Tig, Isla, and Sunny talked loudly over the music, I poked my seaweed salad with my fork. Was it normal to feel so alone in situations like this one, surrounded by countless other beings? Was it a bionic thing?
Glancing around the ballroom, noticing other bionics at other tables smiling and laughing and fitting in, I doubted it. Then a shock of blue snagged my attention. Under the dimmed glow of the ballroom lights, Dr. Semson’s skin was even more vibrant than usual, the rich, deep blue contrasting with the white marble pillars of the ballroom. With the crisp white collar of his shirt, the cuffs folded above his wrists.
“We’re going to the spa tomorrow,” Isla said, pulling my focus from the way his webbed fingers spread out over his glass. It was so similar to the way they’d spread out over my skin. “Declan claims to hate it, but he’s always less grumpy after he gets a good massage.”
“Which spa?” Sunny asked. “Deck ten?” Her brows jumped. “Or thirty-six?”
“Stars above.” Isla burst into laughter, her black curls sliding down her back as she tilted her head toward the ceiling. “Could you even imagine Declan on deck thirty-six? A single accidental glimpse of a live sex show in one of the window displays, and he’d pass out from shock.”
“What are you doing tomorrow, Elanie?” Tig asked, fiddling with her straw.
“Working,” I replied, because what else would I be doing?
