Girl Cyborg: A Dystopian Action Adventure Thriller

Everything but Glass Slippers

Bess strained her ears. The car had come to a stop beside the house.

In moments, a voice rang out from the hallway below. "Hello, it's Kathy!"

Bess sighed and uncurled herself. She slipped around from behind the boxes but left her hidey hole intact. The mystery of the approaching car was solved, but it never hurt to have a place to retreat. Her legs were unusually stiff as she came into the bedroom. It had to be more effects from losing the signal, as well as spending so much time in bed. She wished she was healed enough to go for a run.

There was a tap at the door. "Bess?"

Bess invited Kathy in, determined to get some reconnaissance.

"I heard you drive up. Do you live in town? Where is the nearest town anyway? It feels so weird I don't know where I am." Bess tried to keep her voice conversational. It was prisoner of war 101 stuff. Her objectives were survival, evasion, resistance, and escape. If Bess were going to get beyond survival and work on evasion, she needed to know the environment. The farm house had to be north of the city since south of Bedabun there was nothing but a Great Lake. Was she east or west?

"We are hardly on the map that all." Kathy laughed. "But judging by your face and hair, we have bigger problems. When's the last time you showered?"

"Yesterday." Bess didn't know whether Kathy purposely deflected her questions, or whether she was honestly concerned about her appearance, that is until Kathy rolled in an old-fashioned full-length mirror from the next room. Faced with her muddied and scratched reflection, Bess understood why Kathy's face had fallen when she came into the room.

"Look at those scratches on your skin. I don't think we can cover those." Kathy clucked her tongue and shook her head.

Bess took a deep breath. "I just have to look human, not pretty." In the Academy, vanity and flirting were discouraged.

"Too bad about your hair."

"I like it short. When it's long, the texture defies gravity."

"You are too short for my pants but you can fit my dresses, with a belt to cinch the waist." Kathy whistled in admiration.

Bess thought of her size as something to endured rather than celebrate, especially when she had to do timed training exercises on the obstacle course. If the wall was twice the height of a security cyber, that made it three times her height. Eager to beat the other teams, the cybers in her class would almost toss her over because giving her a leg up just didn't bring her high enough to grab the top. It was humiliating and made her feel helpless each time they flung her into the air.

Kathy went into the closet and returned with an armful of dresses on hangers. "Which one do you want to try first?"

"Pick for me. I don't know dresses." Bess looked at the light, bright fabrics. "Nothing too short, okay? I feel vulnerable enough in this flimsy nightgown. Do you have heavy cotton twill?" Maybe a pair of khakis?

"Sorry. Favourite colour?"

Bess hesitated. It was a question she'd never considered. She closed her eyes to think better and it came to her.

"Purple." It was the only colour never used by the Academy.

Kathy set the dresses on the bed and went back into the closet.

Bess remembered one spring when, while patrolling a residential area, she had seen her first iris. She was so struck by the flower's purple shades that she made her classmates stop and look. None of the students had known its name so Bess looked it up and learned they grew from bulbs that returned every year.

Irises were beautiful, complex flowers that unfolded in spring like the heads of dragons, with sharp edged leaves that stood like a fan of swords. If it could capture the strength and beauty of the iris, wearing a dress wouldn't feel so much like walking around in a nightgown.

When Kathy returned, she held two purple dresses, one in a deep shade cut like a swimsuit with straps over the shoulders and a plunging back. The other was flouncy and closer to violet in colour, the pattern a geometric interpretation of flowers.

"This one." Bess pointed to the dress with a generous skirt and flouncy sleeves. It made her think of the iris. She didn't tell Kathy it was the prettiest manufactured item she had ever seen. "Are all these dresses yours?"

"I used to work in a clothing store. You get quite a collection over the years."

"They're beautiful. Should I try it on?"

Kathy laughed. "You need a shower first. I'm going to get you some makeup."

By the time Bess got out of the shower, Kathy had covered the dressing table with little plastic kits and jars.

"Wow, that's a lot of makeup. Do I look that bad?"

"No, but let me have some fun. I never do makeovers with my girlfriends anymore."

"I guess not." First tip of interrogation, pretend you already know what they're talking about. It sets the prisoner at ease and makes her think she isn't revealing secrets. Except Bess was the prisoner, not Kathy.

"This is the first dance we've had in a long time," said Kathy. "The war makes people nervous about gathering."

"You're afraid of drone strikes?"

"It isn't safe to draw attention to your farm. It isn't safe for people to meet in your barn, in your house, around your property. Any gathering of people looks suspicious to the NUS."

"What about going to market?"

"I think it gives them a regular time to spy on us, and a location where it's easy to install surveillance equipment."

"You're as cynical as your brother. NUS and your country are allies. Of course we don't spy on you at the market."

She drew out the chair in front of the mirror and gently pushed Bess down into it. "Allies always spy on each other. Don't tell me you believe the NUS respect our privacy."

Bess looked up into her face. "I believe it."

"That's what I was afraid of." Kathy's lips made a thin line. She picked up a fluffy brush and started applying powder to Bess's face. Bess kept her mouth shut so she wouldn't inhale any.

Kathy didn't talk during the rest of the makeover. It was as if she suddenly remembered Bess wasn't her friend, but an enemy spy or even a monster. Bess forced herself to smile and asked a few more chit chat questions but the hard line of Kathy's mouth didn't waver. By the end, when she started rushing, Kathy poked Bess in the eye with the eyeliner.

"What are you going to wear?" It was Bess's last-ditch attempt to restart the conversation.

"Boots and a gun."

"What's bothering you?"

Kathy was trembling slightly. "Close your eyes and tilt your head down. Let's see if cream shadow can disguise those freaky eyelids."

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-- Maaja