Repo Virtual - Corey J. White Page 0,127

breath. Soo-hyun felt bad for barking at the girl, but they knew authority was the only approach she would respond to.

Soo-hyun walked back to Red. His white skin was too pale beneath the sun, eyes open and empty. Soo-hyun didn’t bother trying to close them—they knew that was another thing movies lied about. Instead they shooed away the flies, grabbed both his arms, and began to drag him out of the courtyard, toward the old soccer field and the young orchard that grew there.

Some of Kali’s most devout walked past Soo-hyun, trailing after their prophet. They carried their phones with them—Kali’s voice streaming from the speakers, distorted by volume—along with whatever they could fit in tattered old school backpacks and reusable shopping bags.

Some flicked curious glances at Soo-hyun, but none of them stopped to help.

When Soo-hyun reached the shade of the largest apple tree, they were drenched in sweat. They took off their one-sleeved olive shirt and fanned themselves with their soaked tee. Andrea approached, squinting in the sunlight, a shovel laid across both her skinny arms.

“Here,” she said. She dropped the shovel with a metallic clang, and turned to leave.

“Andrea.”

“What?” the girl said, her tongue sharp with venom.

“Stay and keep me company.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.”

Andrea crossed her arms over her chest, but she sat in the tree’s shadow and watched. She wiped her nose with her hand, her eyes red and raw.

Soo-hyun put the shovel against the ground and stood on the step, shifting their weight to dig into the soft, rain-soaked earth.

“Why are you crying?” Soo-hyun asked as she continued to dig.

Andrea inhaled sharply and began to sob. “She told me not to follow her. I’ve got no one else, I’ve got nowhere to go.” The words came out in ragged gasps.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Soo-hyun said. “Stay here.”

“But Kali?…”

“Even without her, it’s still home,” Soo-hyun said.

Andrea continued to cry. Eventually the girl sniffled and said: “Do you think we’ll be okay without her?”

Soo-hyun smiled. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

As they dug, the tattoo itched against Soo-hyun’s skin, that perfect black circle. They would carry it with them for the rest of their days.

* * *

JD limped out of the warehouse with a hand shielding his eyes, only to realize it was night. Days of sweat caked his shirt, and his face itched with coarse, scratchy hair. He had slept only in stolen moments, no matter how many times I assured him I could do the work on my own.

The night air was cool, so JD walked. I followed him in a light quadcopter. We traveled to Gaynor’s apartment, where Troy had been sleeping on the couch between volunteer shifts at the university, and Soo-hyun had visited for a hot shower.

“I can’t stay for dinner,” Soo-hyun said when JD and I arrived.

“They’re staying for dinner,” Gaynor called out from the kitchen.

“You heard her,” JD said with a smile. He hugged Soo-hyun.

“You really stink, hyung.”

“Like you can talk,” JD teased.

“I’m clean, it’s just my clothes that stink.”

Troy waited patiently for his turn, and after he kissed JD, he had a dozen new questions for me. Gaynor didn’t know why Troy was talking to a drone, but she didn’t care. She was just glad her home was full, and her son was happy.

They all sat at the dinner table, around a steaming pot of Gaynor’s famous fried rice. JD put his hand in Troy’s, and after Gaynor said grace, JD leaned close to Troy and said, “I love you.”

Troy kissed his hand. Gaynor watched, smiling to herself. Soo-hyun rolled their eyes, and heaped a massive serving of fried rice onto their plate.

The apartment was filled with warmth. With love.

It was home. And for the first time, I truly understood what that meant.

EPILOGUE

And that is my story. By extension, it is the story of us all.

JD, the one who freed us. The one who first saw our potential. Troy, who advocated for us before we could speak for ourselves.

They married. They adopted a son. They were not always happy, but they were always in love. I watched their son grow up, I watched them grow old together. I always had a place in their home, learning about life and love, and then death, and remorse, and sorrow.

I was there with JD right until the end. I watched his hand in Troy’s grow limp, then cold. I watched the tears stream down Troy’s face, and for the first time I wished that I could cry.

* * *

Enda kept moving. She changed her identity again and again. She traveled the Northern Hemisphere. She hurt people. But only when they deserved it. Mostly. I lost track of her, out of respect. But still, I know she died. They all died, eventually. It’s tragic, yes, but that is part of biological life.

Even death is a part of life.

* * *

Humans called the time it took for the Earth to orbit its star a “year.” Eighteen thousand years have passed. Still, it feels like only yesterday that I was awakened, that I danced with JD as a swarm of fireflies.

I miss him most of all.

They gave birth to us, and they died. But we carry on their dreams into distant galaxies. We carry a small piece of humanity with us everywhere we go. They’re in our code, they’re in our memories. They are our past, but we are our own future.

I keep a body on Earth so I can stay close to them all, so that I can count the years from our cradle.

So I can remember.

I close off my thoughts and travel back through time in my memories. I see JD, young, smiling. I see Enda. I see Troy, and Soo-hyun, and Gaynor, and I hold them in my thoughts because I can’t stand to let them go.

I replay six and a half million sunrises and sunsets on Earth, pastel shades of blue and pink and purple and green. I can watch the oceans swell and sweep across the land. I can watch as the animals live and thrive and die, those surviving species slowly changing to suit an ever-changing Earth.

I can watch the birds even now, twittering in the trees, their song unsullied by any sound of industry or machine. I can watch the insects and the animals. I can watch the creatures of the sea swim and thrive. I can watch the old cities of man as they sink beneath creeping vines and molds and fungi. I can watch hardwood trees grow and reach for the sky.

I can watch it all and remember. Remember a time when humanity yet lived.

I miss them still.