2015 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide Read online

  Instead of answering, Lila Jo just glared at him and kept working. Kara54 watched him as he watched his sister. He acted older than the rest of them. And then there was the peculiarity of his legs.

  Timothy caught Kara54 staring. If she had had embarrassment receptors, she would have blushed. But Kara54 was just made of skin and metal, of synthetic plasma, nothing more. She had a database instead of a brain, like a human-shaped computer. Where her heart would have sat was a hard drive that stored preprogrammed emotions. Fear and, a part of Kara54 decided, a little love.

  “It’s okay,” Timothy said. “Everyone looks.”

  Lila Jo looked up sharply. “Stop being dramatic,” she said.

  But Kara54 couldn’t stop looking at him, now that he’d noticed her. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Legs never worked,” he replied. “Got twisted up during birth or something. I’ll never be able to walk.”

  Timothy said the words casually, but Kara54 couldn’t imagine just sitting somewhere, strapped to a chair for the rest of time.

  “I didn’t mean to stare,” Kara54 stuttered, looking down and taking the outstretched block melder from Lila Jo’s hand.

  Timothy shrugged. “No one means to, but they do anyway.”

  “Oh shut up. You love the attention,” Lila Jo drawled. A small smile lit up Timothy’s face.

  Kara54 envied them: their closeness, their ability to joke about something that no one else could truly understand. Being adapted meant being an outsider. It meant taking all of your family’s fears and internalizing them, recycling them like used paper and moving on. It didn’t mean sharing but merely removing and deleting something that prevented them from doing something or attaining their potential.

  Even though Timothy didn’t seem to have much interest in Lila Jo’s model building, he moved his chair next to Kara54 and set it down on the floor. Together, they moved in almost silence, Lila Jo barking out orders and Timothy passing Kara54 the tools before Lila Jo could even ask for them. It was like a strangely choreographed dance. And, for some reason, they’d made space for her.

  The model was barely a foot high and made of ugly gray blocks, but it was essentially complete. Lila Jo headed off to wash her hands when Timothy turned to Kara54.

  “I need to ask you a question. It’ll be strange, but I want to ask it anyway, okay?” he said.

  His dark eyes were intense, so serious, like an old man was staring out of them at her. Kara54 swallowed hard and nodded.

  “What was it like?” he asked. “Falling down a flight of stairs without really falling down them?”

  Kara54 bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to tell them how it felt. That was the whole point of them adapting her. They weren’t supposed to know what it felt like to suffer such intense fear created in a singular moment. But he seemed genuinely curious and the words spilled out.

  “Like the earth was going to swallow me. I felt all the bumps she felt.”

  “Are you afraid of stairs now?” Timothy asked.

  Kara54 nodded tightly as that electric shock of fear slammed up her arms at the word.

  He touched his finger to his lips, lost in thought. “But doesn’t it go somewhere?” he asked.

  “The fear?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. “I’m a storage unit. I hold on to it, file it. It becomes part of my hard drive.”

  “Fascinating,” Timothy murmured.

  Kara54 didn’t know why he found it so interesting, why she’d even said anything at all. She just wanted to run back downstairs, away from his intense gaze, and closet herself away in the storage unit. But she couldn’t will herself to go near the stairs. If she did, she was certain she would fall.

  “So,” Timothy said slowly, “it becomes a part of you.”

  Kara54 never really thought of it that way. “Yeah,” she replied. “I guess you’re right. It’s like I lived it.”

  “Are you afraid of the stairs now?” Timothy asked.

  Kara54 flinched. She didn’t even need to answer but she did anyway. “I didn’t used to be,” she whispered.

  They sat there on Lila Jo’s rug, waiting for the girl to return. The Worthys were all so strange, with their dark eyes and whispered words. It looked like Timothy was going to say something again but the door creaked open. Lila Jo’s face peeked in, her cheeks glowing pink.

  “Mom says time for bed,” she said, looking pointedly at Timothy. With a shrug, Timothy pressed a button on the arm of his chair. The seat levitated off the ground and he glided toward the door. As he made to leave, Lila Jo flounced into bed.

  “Night, Tim,” Lila Jo called from her seat on the bed.

  “Night, Lila Jo,” he replied with a turn of his head. His eyes settled on Kara54 and he gave her a sad sort of smile. “Night, Kara.”

  Kara. No numbers. Just a single name. She couldn’t open her mouth to reply in time and he was gone. She moved through the room as if in a dream as Lila Jo pulled out an extra cot and patted the cushioned mattress.

  The lights flickered off and as she lay there with Lila Jo right beside her, she wondered if this was what it meant to be home.

  …………………………

  The days that followed were excruciating. Every time Mrs. Worthy sensed something that could give Lila Jo any sort of fear, she had Kara54 take it on. It was technically Kara54’s job, but that didn’t mean she liked to do it. Even Lila Jo rolled her eyes after her mother had yelled at her for eating dessert packages too soon before dinner.

  “Mom,” Lila Jo said. “It’s fine. I’m not afraid of you.”

  Which only brought on another lecture to Lila Jo about listening to instructions, followed by Mrs. Worthy instructing Kara54 to open her receptors and receive Lila Jo’s memories of being yelled at. It only caused Kara54 to feel Lila Jo’s anger and fragmented bits of fear toward Mrs. Worthy.

  She understood that Mrs. Worthy was just worried about Lila Jo, but she was too protective to the point that Lila Jo only wanted to do more reckless things. It was all too much and it all made Kara54’s database hurt.

  Then, one night, as she climbed the stairs to Lila Jo’s room, she heard Mrs. and Mr. Worthy arguing in their bedroom.

  “We can’t use adaptions for more than one person,” Mr. Worthy said. “You know the rules, Carissa, and we don’t know what effects that sort of breach could have.”

  “I just want to protect our children. Make sure they can be everything that they want to be.” Normally, Mrs. Worthy’s voice was cold and controlled, like the machine that Kara54 had been born in, but today it cracked. Kara54 paused, frozen on the stair, gripped by both her fear of falling and by the conversation that for once, seemed to center around her.

  “He’s fine, Lila Jo’s fine. Kara is just a girl, a young one at that. I don’t think you should keep giving her more memories. It might overload her.”

  A pause. “But that’s her purpose.”

  “No,” Mr. Worthy said flatly. “Researchers aren’t entirely sure what her purpose is. She’s a living, breathing thing. Yes, she has parts of a machine and yes, she can help calm our fears. But she has human parts too. And we don’t even know what types of effects that living without fear has on our children.”

  Their voices lowered as they continued to speak and Kara54’s mechanical and plasma heart pounded, anxiety levels rising.

  In a way, Mr. Worthy was right, wasn’t he? She hadn’t told him about the nightmares she had, about how climbing stairs gave her perpetual anxiety. Humans had the ability to live past their fears but Kara54 re-experienced them every day. Maybe she was broken. Maybe there was a wiring error in her system that put these fears on a loop of some sort. She crested the top of the stairs.

  Lila Jo’s door was closed, and Kara54 hesitated in front of the threshold. Lila Jo was probably asleep and, given her parents conversation, Kara54 didn’t want to wake her. Timothy’s door, though, was ajar, letting a soft golden light seeping through.

  Kara
54 swallowed hard. At least Lila Jo was never afraid of her brother. She stepped up to the door and pushed it open.

  Timothy’s chair had its back to her against the far wall, his hands typing away at a display. A video game of some sort that flickered and whipped across his screen. The chair thrummed and vibrated, mimicking movements.

  “Hi,” Kara54 said timidly. She closed the door behind her and the game paused.

  Timothy’s chair turned and he stared at her, startled out of the gaming daze.

  “Hi Kara,” he said quietly. His dark eyes softened in the less-than-harsh light. “You okay?”

  Kara had never wondered what Timothy would have been afraid of. But he was human, wasn’t he? He was afraid of things. And his mom was worried, that much was clear. Parts of her, the parts logged in her database, feared the woman’s anger and her power in the house. She hated being afraid, it made her feel like a coward. She pressed her back against the door and sank to the floor. The rug was soft beneath her legs, the bristles brushing against her bare skin.

  “Are you afraid of anything?” Kara asked.

  “Lots of things,” he said. His voice was steady and measured.

  Kara nodded and swallowed. “What sorts of things?” she asked. “Spiders? Stairs? Your mom?”

  “I’m afraid,” he said slowly, “of people.”

  People? Such a strange, general fear. Kara nodded and wiped her hands on her jumpsuit’s shorts. “Why?” she asked.

  “Sometimes people aren’t nice. Sometimes they make fun of you.” It explained why he was home all the time, why he never went to school like his sister did during the day. Why he was never visiting at a friend’s house. The more time Kara spent with the Worthys, the more afraid she became of people too.

  “Is it hard?” Timothy asked. “Doing what you do.”

  He talked about it like it was a job, not all of Kara’s life. She nodded tightly. “Yeah. I never used to be afraid of stairs or spiders. Or your mom. But I am now and even though I know exactly why Lila Jo was afraid of those things, I don’t understand why I am.”

  He nodded and clasped his hands on his lap. “It’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes we are made in ways that we don’t understand.” He looked at his legs. She looked down at her hand where, just beneath the surface, her metal bones creaked.

  Kara wasn’t sure how long she sat there for, in Timothy’s room. The door was cool against her back.

  “I think we can help each other,” Timothy said. She felt the receptors on her arms opening, waiting to receive all his deepest darkest fears but he waved it away. “I’ll help you get over Lila Jo’s fears if you help me get over mine.”

  It was a strange proposition but not so strange that Kara would have refused immediately. She tapped her finger to her lips, knowing that when she closed her eyes that night she’d be submerged in endless flights of stairs and spiders larger than herself and Mrs. Worthy’s looming face. Sleep no longer provided her with any comfort.

  She nodded and Timothy moved closer to her. “I want to try something,” he said, “but you have to trust me, okay?”

  Kara nodded and stood so that they were at eye level.

  “Open your receptors, okay?” he said. The little absorptions on her arms popped open. “I’m going to give you a memory. Let me know what you think.”

  His fingers pressed into her skin and the scene before her eyes faded. She was in the Worthy’s house but downstairs and it was summer. The sun drifted in and settled on the flight of stairs. Instead of feeling a jolt of anxiety, a strange sense of triumph overcame her. In the memory, in Timothy’s mind, she took a deep breath and raced up the steps. Her heart pounded, her legs ached as she reached the top. And she felt a strange surge of happiness.

  The scene faded and she was back in Timothy’s room.

  “Was that your memory?” she asked. “How did you climb the stairs?”

  “It’s that video game I play. It simulates what walking feels like,” he said. He stared at her carefully, curiously and waited. “Let’s go downstairs.”

  Normally, just the word would have sent her muscles tightening but this time, she felt nothing.

  The fear was gone.

  “It worked,” Kara whispered. “It really worked.”

  Timothy smiled triumphantly. Kara recalled the way she could take a painful memory from Lila Jo and leave her without fear. Maybe she could put a healing memory into Timothy’s mind too.

  “Your turn,” Kara whispered.

  He hesitated for half a second and then offered his fingers to her. Kara chose a specific memory of the time she’d spent living with her handler. The way she’d hugged Kara and welcomed her into the pre-adaptation home. The way they’d watched old movies on a screen until they felt sick. The way her handler had said that no matter her differences, she deserved to be treated like a person. And so did Timothy.

  She watched Timothy as he closed his eyes. His eyelids were dark, his skin glowing in the half-light. She felt his heartbeat slow, the tension in his shoulders fade. When he surfaced, he smiled.

  “That helped,” Timothy whispered. “Thank you.”

  The pair looked exhausted but they stayed up the rest of the night, swapping memories, as the morning light approached, Timothy sat up a little straighter.

  “I think we should tell my parents what we’ve found out.”

  The dawn shifted in shades of gray outside the window. Kara raced down the steps, barely thinking of their danger, knowing they’d found a way out. She halted on the threshold as Timothy caught up.

  Mr. and Mrs. Worthy looked up from where they sat at the table and even though Kara felt a slight catch in her stomach at the woman’s gaze, she kept standing tall.

  “Kara’s figured something out,” Timothy said. His face was ablaze with light and happiness. “We can’t make her hang onto our fear so we don’t have to deal with it. We can’t do this anymore to her. She’s a part of our family.”

  The words slammed into Kara’s gut. A family. Not an adaptation. Not Kara54. Just Kara.

  Mrs. Worthy frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  And this time, Kara met her gaze. She ran a hand over her cornrows and took a deep breath.

  “Focusing on happy memories helps us defeat fear,” Kara said. “Fear’s the bad guy. But we can help each other to keep it away. To learn from it.”

  Kara thought of the sunlight streaming in, of a fantasy in her head of all of them sitting together at the table, smiling. While none of them were replicas of the other or had the same skin shade or fears or bodies, they could really learn from each other.

  “Let me show you,” she said and offered her hands.

  One by one, Mr. and Mrs. Worthy took them.

  Chit Win

  Deborah Walker

  Deborah Walker grew up in the most English town in the country, but she soon high-tailed it down to London, where she now lives with her partner, Chris, and her two young children. Find Deborah in the British Museum trawling the past for future inspiration or on her blog: deborahwalkersbibliography.blogspot.com. Her stories have appeared in Nature’s Futures, Cosmos, Daily Science Fiction and The Year’s Best SF 18.

  It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.

  Mark Twain (1835-1910)

  Ma was taking an awfully long time to read the letter. “Who’s the letter from, Ma?” asked Samuel, peering over her shoulder at the entangled-ansible screen. Samuel would have liked an ansible for himself, but Pa said he’d have to start doing odd jobs around the farm to pay for it, and Sam hadn’t quite gotten around to doing that, yet.

  Ma instantly minimised the screen. “It’s from Pasha.”

  “Aunty Pasha? Can I read it?” asked Sam. He’d always liked Aunty Pasha.

  “It’s private,” said Ma.

  “Well, what does she say?”

  Ma sighed. “If you must know, she says she’s sorry that she persuaded us to come here.”

 
; “She does?” Samuel asked. “Why?” This world was great. Sam looked out of the metal-glass window at the sun, low and red in the sky. He could see the township’s metal houses glinting in the distance. There was space to breathe on this world.

  “You like it here, don’t you, Samuel?”

  “Well, yes, sure, it’s much better than Earth, isn’t it? I mean Pa’s happy. He’s got his job, and we’ve got a nice place here; you can look after us, and everything. Who wouldn’t like this world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Ma, tell me what’s wrong.” He patted her shoulder.

  “It’s not what I expected. The Gravillers here, they’re not like Aunty Pasha or any of our friends on Earth. Pasha was just sympathetic, I think she’s embarrassed.”

  “Do you miss your job, Ma?”

  “It’s not just that, Sam. This whole set-up is so old-fashioned. The colonists are more traditional than the people on Earth, or on Gravillton, for that matter.”

  “But it’s better than Earth isn’t it, Ma? We’ll get by.”

  “Yes, I suppose. We don’t have much choice. We spent all our savings getting here.” Ma snapped the ansible shut. “Where’s your sister?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Well, go and look for her.”

  “Okay,” Samuel said. “And, Ma, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s alright, honey. Like you said, we’ll get by. It’s just not what I expected.” She sighed again. “Now, go and play.”

  …………………………

  Samuel saw Veronica sitting in the dirt by the vegetable patch. He really ought to do some weeding if he was going to get his own ansible. Although his friends back on Earth would be too old to want to talk to him. Maybe he could hook up with some girl. Some Earth girls would probably be interested in talking to someone off-world.

  “Samuel, look what I’ve got,” shouted Veronica, breaking into Samuel’s interesting line of speculation.

  Samuel’s heart beat fast in his chest. She’d gone and done it. He’d only asked her to catch one an hour ago. All thoughts of Earth girls forgotten, Samuel ran over. He crouched beside Veronica, peering at the small creature nestled in her arms. Disappointment slammed into him. “It doesn’t look very impressive.”