‘She said you’re not like her. You weren’t made for the factories.’
‘Yeah. W-Want to know what I was made for?’ He raised his eyebrows, smirking. ‘Civil leadership. I was supposed to, uh, to be a c – a coun—’ He gave up on the word, and laughed at himself. ‘A politician.’ Blue grinned, but there was a sadness in his eyes. Something about this wasn’t as easy as he was making it out to be. ‘The b-bastards that made us, they’re not as good at, uh, good at genetweaking as they think. They think they’ve got it down. They make dancers, they make math – mathematicians, they make athletes. They m-make factories full of slave kids with no hair. But evolution isn’t a – a thing you can wrangle like that. It doesn’t always go in predictable ways. Genes and chromosomes, they, um, they do their own thing sometimes. You think you’re mixing together a politician, and instead, you get me.’ He shrugged. ‘The Enhanced call us m-misfits. People who don’t suit their intended purpose. So, maybe, ah, maybe you’re a misfit, too. Doesn’t mean you’re not deserving. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be here. Lovey’s gone, and that’s horribly sad. You’re here, and that’s wonderful. This isn’t a zero sum thing. Both can be true at the same time.’ He looked at the painting. ‘And maybe this, um, maybe this isn’t you right now. Maybe the face you’re, um, the face you’re wearing just needs a little time before it f-fits you. Or you fit it. Either way.’
Sidra thought for two seconds. ‘I don’t know what to say right now.’
‘That’s okay.’
Sidra watched the drying paint as she processed the events of the day over and over. Blue sat beside her, hand around the kit’s, clearly in no hurry. She cycled through the argument with Pepper that morning. You need to try. She’d been so angry to hear that, but remembering it now, the feeling was different. Maybe she needed to stop fighting the kit. Maybe she could be more like everyone else. She looked at the portrait’s eyes, and tried to imagine what it would be like to see herself looking back.
‘Do you know an Aeluon named Tak?’ she asked.
Blue blinked, surprised by the question. ‘I know a dozen Aeluons named Tak. That’s the problem with, um, with an invented language. Not a lot of names to go around. Do you know xyr f-full name?’
‘No. Just Tak. She’s a tattoo artist. I met her at Shimmerquick.’ Sidra pulled up the contact file. ‘Her shop’s in the western art district. Steady Hand?’
‘Oh, yeah. I don’t know that par – um, particular Tak, but I’ve seen that shop.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I don’t think it’s too far from the noodle bar, if you wanted to go see her after lunch.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it before now, but I would like to, yes.’
He looked at her curiously. ‘Why, you thinking of getting some ink?’
The kit shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
Blue laughed and ruffled the kit’s hair. ‘I mean, hey, if you’re g-going to have an existential crisis, go all out, yeah?’
JANE, AGE 10
‘Pour it in the funnel there,’ Owl said. Her face on the screen nodded toward the empty water tanks. Jane took the cap off the canteen and poured the gross water out.
‘It smells real bad,’ Jane said, turning her face away as the water splashed into the funnel.
‘I’ll bet,’ Owl said. ‘Okay, I’ll just divert some power from the hatch, and—’ There was a sound, the sound of a thing turning on. Owl looked good – happy. ‘Excellent. Give me a moment to analyse it.’
Jane put her ear up to the tank as things clunked and whirred. ‘What’s it doing?’ she asked.
‘I’m scanning for contaminants,’ Owl said.
‘Yes, but how?’
‘I don’t actually know how it works. I bet one of our manuals can tell us. But I have to focus on this now. I don’t have enough power to be running too many extra processes.’
Jane scrunched up her forehead, but didn’t say anything further. Maybe if she was real careful, she could take one of the tanks apart and then put it back together the exact same way.
‘Analysis complete,’ Owl said. ‘Stars, what isn’t in this stuff?’
‘Is it bad?’ Jane asked, her fingers all tangled together. Was the water she found wrong? Would Owl get angry?
‘That depends on your point of view,’ Owl said. She was not angry. ‘There are eight different types of fuel residue, more industrial by-products than you have time to listen to, bacteria, microbes, fungal spores, decaying organic matter, a heaping helping of dirt, and, weirdly, an awful lot of salt.’ Her face smiled from the wall. ‘Luckily, none of it is beyond my ability to handle. Pour the rest in. I can have a batch this small clean in six minutes and forty-three seconds. Give or take.’
‘Can I drink it?’ Jane said.
‘Yes, and you should have enough to wash your face and hands, too. But don’t drink all of it until you’ve brought more back. Do you think you can take the water wagon out tomorrow?’
‘Yeah!’ Jane said. She could! She could do that! ‘Oh, and I found something by the water.’ She opened up her satchel.