Girl Cyborg: A Dystopian Action Adventure Thriller

Disaster

Bess sat with her back to the wall, observing the crowd. By the time the food came, Lance had attracted a small contingent of women, all closer to his age than Bess. The way these women smiled and preened for him shouldn't surprise her. This was how standard humans acted because they didn't have boosts to regulate their hormones.

Bess crossed her arms and let them cradle her head on the table. She couldn't keep her eyes open so why pretend? She had seen enough dresses and shoes and makeup and people in their Sunday best. They could accept her or reject her or think she was being rude, but nothing could stop her from resting her eyes.

When did the music stop? There was a delicious smell. Bess opened her eyes and sat up to see Lance setting a plate of steaming beef and potatoes in front of her. He stood by the table with three young women, all chatting gaily until they noticed she was awake. The closest woman's eyes went wide and she shot Lance a look. He gave her a micro shrug but she frowned and turned on her heel, taking one of her girlfriends with her. That left Lance, Bess, and a pretty brunette wearing jeans and a pink polo shirt. Bess tried smiling at her but the brunette directed all comments to Lance, as if Bess wasn't sitting right there.

"Well, I never thought I'd be the brave one," she said. "Did you see those ninnies running off? What do you say we go for a drive after dinner?"

"I'd love to but I can't..."

"Your sister could babysit."

"I don't need watching," said Bess. "You're supposed to drop me off, remember?"

"I remember," Lance took her hand as he spoke. Normally, men only gave her their hands on the obstacle course. Although, the more she thought about it, the more this evening seemed like an obstacle course. The object here wasn't to finish quickly but to evade social traps, like the women who snubbed her, and the people who smiled at her as long as she was with Lance, then whispered behind her back. This challenge was much harder than getting over the wall or crawling through sand, blanketed in barbed wire. In this social obstacle course civilians, who would normally pose no threat to her, were suddenly dangerous. She had to prove she was worth protecting or they could instantly sell her out to bounty hunters.

Lance was taking a risk on her behalf, with a lot more than a motorcycle at stake. If she caused him to be rejected by the group, he would lose the protection of the farmers' militia. Then who would defend him from marauders? On top of that, Bess noticed the hurt look in the brunette's eyes when Lance put her off. There was something between them and she was in the way. What to do?

Bess looked down at her plate for inspiration. Better just eat and let them talk. She carved a small bite of pink beef. Delicious. She never knew beef could be roasted brown on the outside and still reveal several shades of pink in the middle. The cook had carved it up thin, soft, and juicy, surpassing any food she'd eaten at the Academy. Of course, bettering Academy food wasn't hard. They served only beef substitutes.

Everywhere she looked, people were feasting in a kind of quiet contemplation. She would've guessed they were paying her no attention at all, except when she caught the eye of this or that citizen, and they would suddenly stop talking mid sentence and either glare at Bess or look away. Without Lance by her side, they would probably have run her out of the room. Fortunately, he and the brunette had joined her at the table.

The brunette was talking to Lance but he had stopped listening. He had his phone out and was reading it. This was what civilians used instead of the signal. It seemed hopelessly old-fashioned but understandable in primitive circumstances. After all, if something went wrong with your signal rig, you would need a doctor, and since the war, doctors were in short supply