Akaela Read Free

nanobots won’t keep us alive
forever.
    We’re
cyborgs, the children of the Unfit, though nobody uses those names anymore.
Because when the Plague came, it changed everything: the Unfit were no longer
such. Their genetic make-up made them resistant to the Plague. That handful of
mutations that made our ancestors genetically unfit saved us from the Plague,
while the rest of the world collapsed. Hemorrhagic fevers and diarrhea killed those
who had once been healthy. Only the Gaijins survived.
    The
Gaijins and us, the Mayake.
    Crippled
and deformed, we had little chance to make it. We may have beaten the Plague,
but we were still going to succumb to the brutality of a decimated world. We
didn’t stand a chance until Dr. Prado fixed us.
    He wasn’t a
real doctor. He was an engineer, but we still call him Doctor. He invented
chips that could be implanted under the skin to revitalize the immune system.
He grew limbs through bioengineered tissues, creating prostheses that were part
human, part robot, reducing the risk of rejection to virtually nil. He gave us
cyborg flesh: nanowires and transistors interwoven in our cells, nanobots that
travel through our blood, and chips directly connected to our nervous systems.
Dr. Prado died years ago, before Athel and I were even born. He left a legacy,
a new way of living for us. Until the Gaijins came and took
it all away, our technology, our resources—everything. We live off
scraps, now. Whatever we have left.
    Our babies
are still crippled when they come to the world. Some have such severe defects
they wouldn’t survive a week if it weren’t for Dr. Prado’s implants.
    Uli lets
out a heavy sigh, his large belly squashed against the edge of the workbench.
“I’ll do my best, kiddo,” he says. “In the meantime...” He raises his eyes and
points his chin to a corner in the workshop. “Your kitten is doing much
better.”
    I gasp and
clap my hands. “Ash!” I dash to the little critter bed Uli’s set between the
two charging stations. My four-week-old kitten Ash was about to die of a nasty
infection, so I’d asked Uli if he could spare an immune-boost chip for him.
    Chips and
implants are rare these days, but Uli is like a father to Athel and me. He’s
been checking and updating our wiring and nanobots since we were born, and he
never has the heart to say no when we ask for an update, whether for us or for
our pets.
    I crouch over
the little bed Uli has set up between two charging stations and watch my little
kitten sigh in his sleep, his eyes and nose still encrusted with mucus.
    “Can I
take him home?” I ask.
    Uli
unscrews a flap from the side of the M3 hand and scoops out a few wires tangled
inside. “He should be ok to take home. He’ll probably sleep until tomorrow
morning. I implanted two chips under his skin: one to regulate his heart, the
other to strengthen his immune system. The nanobots will soon propagate
throughout his body and monitor his heart rate, oxygen level, everything. He’ll
be able to fight the infection and resist future fast-mutating pathogens.”
    I’m
ecstatic. “Thank you!” I run to the workbench and hug him, knocking him
slightly off balance. Uli pats my back, his face
flushed, and then pulls away. His eyes stray back to his workbench, the droid
hand now turned into a grid of small parts and chips neatly spread across the
working surface.
    “You guys
still need to tell me how you acquired the M3 part.”
    Athel
swallows and shoots a hard stare at me. I bite my lower lip.
    We’re not supposed to lie , I
message him. Our society is built on trust.
    Trust will not save us from extinction, Athel
sends back.  
    “We found
the droid hand in the forest,” I blurt out, walking back to the little bed
where Ash is still resting from his surgery so I don’t have to stare into Uli’s
eyes as I lie. “The droid must’ve launched it and lost it.”
    Athel
nods. “It was buried in dirt and leaves.”
    Uli leans
against his workbench and rubs