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lost and gone excerpt 3

more excerpts from Lost and Gone, my unfinished NaNo. Unedited/a little rough.

---

This was what I wanted. Isn't that right? I'd wanted the freedom to live unperturbed. Unpursued. Unobligated to carry out the commands of ones of higher rank. And I'd gotten that. My freedom. I was here, alive and blissfully anonymous. I'd gotten what I wanted. Isn't that right?

What was there to dwell on, besides? I had enough money to float on for a while. I had time to ponder the next direction to take. I could try to get in contact with an old friend in the meantime. I'd find a path to take.

My head hurt. I fiddled with the settings of the sluggish comp restlessly. I was just about to quit the machine completely when I was struck by a twinge of curiosity.

Lancey said she was pretty sure she'd wiped the hard drive a while ago, but...

I opened the trash folder. I attempted to restore potentially corrupted files.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw two image files and one text document appear on the desktop.

I was almost afraid to open them. With bated breath, I opened the first image.

It was a tech station, surrounding a vacant hospital bed. The image dated from around ten years ago, like the comp itself. Wires twined and looped around an erratic conjunction of technology, most of which was from around the time the image was taken, but some other components were much older than the others. Many of these devices were modified in strange ways. A couple devices were completely foreign to me.

Though I could recognize most of the technology, the function for them all was completely mysterious. Some of the devices seemed redundant, even conflicting with others, and that's not even taking into account the foreign components.

Vaguely unsettled, I opened the next image.

This image was just some kind of device. It laid on a scratched aluminum table, and looked... well, it looked menacing. The device looked very small, and consisted of an oval device that looked like a welded metal shell hiding some kind of electronics. A very long thin needle protruded from the middle. A long wire threaded out from the inside of the shell and was coiled up next to the device. Six or seven long tiny electrodes came from the other end, splayed like tentacles. I closed the image quickly and sat looking at my screen for a while. I was bothered that these images were making me this uncomfortable. This shouldn’t even faze me- what’s wrong with me? It’s like the last ten years of my life didn’t even happen.

I removed those thoughts from my mind. What was in the text document?

Did I even want to know?

Of course I did. I opened the file and read its contents.

"Hello, Ms. Lancey-" It opened like any standard email. So, there's no doubt that those images were Lancey's. Either she'd taken them herself, or the writer of this note did.

"Foremost, I'd like to extend my gratitude for your interest in our company's work. Though there are a lot of very bright minds in the fields of science today, there are few willing to delve into this particular topic, and there is much we still have to accomplish, which is why I’m pleased that you’ve taken an interest in it.

"In regards to your inquiry, I asked around and my colleagues seem fairly confident that your approach would achieve the desired result. If you were indeed inspired by our methods as you said in the previous message, what you are trying to do is only marginally different than what our laboratories have done in the past, just on a larger scale and for a slightly different end result. We think that your modifications to our method will gain you the desired effect. Please do keep us updated on your progress; as I've said before, this area of science is sadly overlooked by the majority today, and thus, any new achievements are few and far between.

"Cheers, Dr. Kent Marshall."

I furrowed my brow. I opened the two images again and studied them once more. I went back and reread the text. I looked at the images again.

The more I looked, the more a sense of dread crept over me. Nothing had disturbed me quite like this in a very long time. At first I wasn’t sure if I was more disturbed by the files, or the fact that they caused me to react this strongly. But I knew it was the files.

I shuddered, rubbed my eyes, and shut the comp down.

---

My fingers gripped the dusty, nicotine-stained curtain. I shivered, partially from the cold and partially from the fear that was beginning to turn circles inside me. With gritted teeth and a set jaw, I drew back the curtain.

It was in the hospital bed. Now that the lights were on and I could actually see, I realized that it was the exact hospital bed from the picture. The android laid in bed, and appeared to be sleeping. Like a little child. Though the bed sheets were drawn up to its neck and its form was obscured, I could still see its face. The android- clearly female- had long, long light hair that was tangled and sprawled over the pillow and sheets, and spilled over the edges of the bed. Her hair was shaved in some locations on her skull, where small metal plates were screwed into her head. Some were connected with wires to the wall of machines behind her- said wall of machines was similar to the one in the photo, but clearly updated with even more equipment. There was a definite increase in the proportion of foreign devices, and devices that looked like Lancey could have created herself. The android's lower half of her right eye socket, and extending into her temple, was partially structured in the same metal. Along with her neck, which was also partially structured with the metal. Her nose and mouth were covered with a mask, and in her nose appeared to be those tubes where they pump in oxygen. To confirm, there was an oxygen supply at the opposite side of the bed from where I was standing, and an assortment of full and empty containers littering that area.

Suddenly I came to a very important realization. Robots don't require oxygen.

I breathed out shakily. This wasn't an android. This- - -

She.

She opened her pure light yellow eyes and jolted upright, looking directly at me with a transfixed glare. I could hear the rasping sound of every breath she took. Her head sounded like the grinding of a computer processor.

The blankets that had covered her body had slipped down to reveal her torso. A hospital - like gown covered the majority of her chest, but parts were cut away where tubes and wires escaped from her sides and back. Her thin atrophied arms hung limply by her sides. They were covered in bandages and connected to machines by wires.

I stared, terrified by her form, and took a step back. Her eyes were cutting into mine, her expression was a void. Then I glanced at the monitor that was hooked to her side.

YOU CAME BACK

The words were blinking slowly.

I could barely breathe. The sound of whirring machines and her rasping, pained breath was overwhelming.

SOMEONE ELSE WAS HERE TOO

WAS THAT YOUR DOING

The words were typed in slowly, painfully. However she was typing this- it was taking a lot of effort. I could see the strained expression on her face.

I tried to choke out a reply. I was at a loss for words.

"What are you?"

I couldn't avoid the question.

She looked at me bleakly for a long, long time. Her eyebrows were twisted together. Her eyes were unblinking. Her mouth was a straight line of chapped lips.

I DON'T KNOW

That seemed to be her final answer. But just as I was about to say something else, a new string of words appeared on the screen like a plea.

I'M STILL HUMAN

"How... did this happen?"

The answer appeared with barely a pause.

VICTORIA

I realized she was talking about Lancey. Her first name seemed strange to me. "How did she do this?" I asked.

Suddenly, the girl's face contorted into pain, and she hunched over, started coughing. It was a metal, inhuman, rasping cough that clouded the transparent mask over her nose and mouth with condensation. Her cough went on and on, until small flecks of blood started dotting the mask. She fell backwards and sank back down onto the bed, looking exhausted. The grinding noise inside her head was loud and tremorous.

Slowly, I edged forward and covered her form with the blanket. What else could I do? It was cold as hell in here. She stared at me, her expression as blank and unmoving as ever. She was too drained to move.

“I’m so sorry.”

---

I went immediately up the three flights of stairs to Katherine's. I was shaking with fear and dizzy and unsure what to do. What do you do when you're in a situation like this? I barely saw where I was going, I just made a beeline for the door to her room. I had to tell someone to make sense of it all in my head.

Impatiently, I knocked on her door rapidly. The words and images in my mind were blinding, possessed as I was by them.

I knocked again, perhaps sooner than I should have, rocking on my heels. My eyes darted back and forth, I couldn't stay still, couldn't restrain myself from staying still even if I tried, I was bursting at the seams with the stress.

I began to realize three things, simultaneously:

One, that Clementine scared me. It wasn't just her visage, though that was certainly about as unnerving as they come. But she scared me because I didn't know what to do about her, I was scared that I couldn't help her, but also afraid of her existence. There was an unnerving quality to her that I was beginning to realize, an unbiological quality, she did not seem REAL.

And two- Lancey scared me. Her habits no longer seemed like quirks. I was no longer indifferent to her mannerisms. They were threats. She wasn't fucking around, and she was a dangerous person. I didn't feel safe living here. I tried to recall how I had been able to take everything in so calmly- the broken furniture, the holes in the walls, the burn marks on the floors, the utter DESTRUCTION that inundated this house, filled it to the brim. How had I looked past it all? Not thought about it in the slightest, all these glaring signs?

The third thing that I realized was that Katherine was clearly not there.

I was utterly despondent. I tried to calm myself, and I mostly succeeded. I suppressed the screaming images.

I went down to the first level and began to wander there. Roaming through the rooms, trying to ignore the filth and utter desperation seeping from the walls, I became aware of the growing gnawing hunger in the blackened pit of my stomach. It had been a long time since I actually felt hungry like that. So I wandered into Lancey's kitchen. Her list of "Shit Not To Do" clearly stated not to go into her kitchen and eat her food. I chose to ignore that. Perhaps I would make it a game to break every single one of her Rules without getting caught. I was already well on my way to success, why not continue the trend?

I opened the refrigerator with a little indulgent grin, which disappeared when I found the interior bare, save molding leftovers in tupperwares and an empty milk carton on its side. And a jar of pickles, minus the pickles- just half-filled with brine.

I sighed and shut the door. I was surprised at myself that I expected anything different. I didn't bother with the freezer. If there wasn't anything in the fridge, there was no way in hell there was going to be anything in the freezer.

I was almost about to leave the kitchen of disappointment for good, when I glanced out the window above the sink, which overlooked the back of the house, and saw Katherine pacing outside in the field of dead dry grass.

I was just about to run out and approach her, when I saw the comp in her hand and the worried expression on her face. She was holding it out in a way that gave away that she was talking to someone else through it. I restrained myself from going outside; she was probably busy. I didn't want to bother her.

I started idly opening all the drawers and cabinets, continually coming up short of any kind of food. I pressed on, regardless, hoping the longer I stayed there, the more chance I'd have that Katherine would end her conversation with the other person and return into the house. Inside the cabinets, there were occasional disjointed utensils and various kitchen tools stored about, but they seemed like they hadn't been touched in years. One cabinet on the very end was filled with mixing bowls, spatulas, wooden spoons, measuring cups, even a high-tech food processor. But they were caked in years' worth of dust and cobwebs.

The last cabinet I opened was a tall one over the fan above the tabletop stove, and I was only able to reach it by standing on the tips of my toes. There was a single box of crackers.

Stretching as far as I could, I grabbed a hold of the box with my fingertips and tried dragging it from the shelf. Then, something fell down from the shelf and clattered on the dusty stainless steel griddle. It was a tiny data drive.

Well, Lancey. I had to congratulate her on her organizational skills. They were... certainly something.

I got the box down, but put it to one side as I inspected the data drive. It was about four inches long, two wide, and half an inch deep. Just a plain black plastic drive, with scarce embellishments, save for rubber grips on either side and "2 TB" typed in white ink. Not too much space, then. But more than adequate for keeping your most important files.

Heh. Most important.

I slipped the drive into my pocket.

But for now, I was more preoccupied with the box of crackers. I opened the box and retrieved a handful. Upon popping one into my mouth, I quickly discovered- to my misfortune- that the crackers were extremely stale.

Again, I realized that I really shouldn't have expected any different. I deposited the rest of the crackers in my palm back into the box, closed it, and put it back into the cabinet. Sighing, I drank from the running tap in an attempt to get the disgusting dry stale taste from my mouth. I left the kitchen and was going back up to my room when I passed Katherine coming down the stairs.

"Katherine!" I explained, mildly discombobulated at the surprise of seeing her here. I had only just seen her outside; though I'd forgotten to check again before I left the kitchen, there was no way she would have had time to get all the way up here that fast, and without me having noticed her going past.

Distracted, she looked back at me with confusion. She had already passed me by, and didn't stop walking. "Oh, hi," she managed, before turning away her head, never slowing her pace.

"Katherine, wait! I-"

Either she didn't hear me, or she didn't care. She rounded the corner at the end of the stairs and disappeared. I let out a sigh, and tried to not let it bother me that she had just completely blown me off. I didn't understand why she was like this. Sometimes she was friendly, and other times- like this- nothing.

A little dejected, a little frustrated that I felt dejected, mostly determined to carry on my plans with or without her, I returned to my apartment.

It was time to take a look at what was on the data drive.

The port system used by the data drive was a little antiquated, by four years or so, but luckily this comp was more than old enough to still have the right one. I opened up the drive's contents and found it practically bare, except for ten image files with strings of random numbers for each title. Ah, this game again.

The first image I opened was the school picture of a little girl that I quickly realized was Lancey. She was about seven here, with braided blonde hair, a small little smile, and silver glasses too big for her face. I was struck by a sympathy for her. She was an adorable little kid.

The second image was another school photo, but Lancey was significantly older here- probably twelve or thirteen. The awkwardness of adolescence had clearly come on full force for her, and I chuckled sympathetically at her unfortunate visage. Her face was covered in zits, she had a fuck-the-world scowl, and was wearing black studded clothing that screamed teenage rebellion. Her glasses were light blue rectangles; the glass had been smashed in one eye. Ah, how quickly one grows up.

The third photo was of Lancey again, eating a bowl of cereal at a kitchen table. She was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt that looked like it could have been her father's. She was hunched over, and was glaring down at her meal. It didn't look like she had been aware that her photo was being taken.

The fourth photo- Lancey again. I assumed at this point that they would all be of her. A little older again, maybe fifteen here? She was wearing an old flight suit standing against a navy blue background, with an awkward forced smile.

The fifth photo was her- I could only assume-, around four years old, sleeping on a couch. The only light was from a bare bulb above, the photo was very dark.

In the sixth photo, Lancey could have been anywhere between seven to ten. It was hard to tell, the image was extremely grainy, like one small part of a large image had been cropped and blown up several times its size. She was sitting on a lawn chair under a tree. A large tree branch was laying across her lap. Her face was too blurred to make out any kind of readable expression.

In the seventh photo, Lancey's awkward early-teen self made another appearance. She was holding a large box that was the packaging to a brand-new comp. I fondly recognized that model as being very popular when I was in my later teens. I didn't have one myself, but many of my friends had. Her smile was still awkward, but visibly genuine. She was wearing the same pair of light blue glasses again, but they weren't cracked here.

The eighth photo showed her using the comp. Her eyes were wide in concentration, the packaging was strewn all about, the screen of the comp glowed on the glass of her glasses.

The ninth image was her, significantly older- seventeen? She still had the same incredibly unfortunate acne, but her glasses were the same pair she currently wore- the black-framed ones. She wore incredibly baggy, all-black clothing that hung over her skinny pale form like a tent. She was holding a blue first-place science fair ribbon and looking at the camera impassively.

The final image was not of her.

It was a picture of a girl that could only be Lancey’s sister: Clementine. She was around ten years old here, beaming broadly with a perfect smile. I couldn’t help smiling myself; she was the picture of happiness. Clementine herself looked like one of those kids I used to know in school. She had honey colored hair, warm skin, and a peppering of freckles that young kids have so often, when they’re running around outside, causing a ruckus, like normal kids do. She was wearing an old-fashioned apron and red heat-proof gloves, holding a big tray of freshly-baked oatmeal raisin cookies. They were a bit sloppy looking, of varying sizes, some were stuck together in big clumps- but who was I to critique? She was immensely proud of her creation. So enamored was I by this childhood memory of Clementine’s, I nearly overlooked the background. But I eventually realized that Lancey was in the picture, too. She- she had to be five or six- was sitting down, hunched over at the kitchen table. Her arms were crossed, and she was glaring furiously at her older sister. It was a bit… horrifying. I couldn’t put it any other way.

I looked, stared at the last image for a long time. And tugging at the strings in the back of my mind was this inexplicable… feeling… that I had seen Clementine somewhere before. She looked like she could have appeared in my dreams; this strange feeling of recognition kept growing by the minute, I-

Oh.

I… I remembered.

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