Caged

Apprehensive (1/3)

Eden

Among a crowd of cybernetics, chattering to one another with rigid and unnatural voices, inhumane in the most subtle ways, my group of four runners attempt to blend in. Each of us wear a specific disguise, blinding colors and square wigs. Like the machines, we carry purses and hold fake-tablets up against our chests to mimic the cybers that type as they walk, lost in a technological universe all their own.

Like them, our movement must be rigid and precise. Feet drop to the ground with a little too much force; arms don't swing as they walk.

My best friend Linux stands beside me. His disguise is a pair of teal green slacks, spotless despite the fact that we've been climbing through tunnels and crawling across filthy alleyways. The matching teal shirt bears bright yellow squares, making him stand out in the gray space around us. Only his messy black hair fits in.

"Eden?" he whispers from beside me. I cut my eyes at the scrawny boy through my wig. Linux looks ahead then back at me.

We've reached the top of the city.

This is the highest point of Druxy. Below, the city sprawls out before us, more skyscrapers and streets: a cityscape. The ground is flat and limitless, more metropolis as far as we can see. This is what the world has become: never-ending megacities.

Underground, hundreds of miles of abandoned sewer and water pipes lie, snaking in and out of the river, around the corners, and through the darkest shadows of the city. The access holes litter the city. The thought of the tunnels teaming with life below reminds me of why we are here in the first place and why I'm leading three more Luddites out of our darkness: supplies. Without the medicine and weapons I'm responsible for bringing home today, we may not make it through the year.

We are what remains of a society of humans who came together at the end of the Final War after machines took over. Our founders took the word 'Luddite' from a group of rebels in the nineteenth century who protested the replacement of humans with machines by destroying them. There used to be a lot more of us, a connected web throughout cities across the country. Now, less than sixty humans live in the city of Druxy.

The tunnels also hold my older brother, Cyrus. Unlike us, he would never blend in with this steel world around us. Hand-drawn tattoos cover his body and make him stand out. His high status exempts him from supply runs, no matter how qualified he is. Elders don't risk their lives.

He wouldn't be much good to me anyway considering he panics every time he wears a paralyzer gun. I don't blame him; the electric blue bullets used to give me nightmares too. Especially after the incident.

I glance down at my hand where a string of numbers is written.

"32456982 & 457123"

Not that I need to write them down. I've had them memorized since the first time Cyrus gave them to me.

I pull my sleeve over my hand and whisper the building numbers to myself.

On my left is building number 32456980, which means I have two more to go. I push ahead. Here, the crowds are thinner. We are out of the busy district, moving into the residential area.

My favorite thing about humans is how each one of us is absolutely unique. We have our own quirks and funny habits that sometimes makes no sense at all. Linux, for example, always brushes his hair to the left and gets really angry when someone questions him. I memorize things: words and numbers, mainly. Ever since I learned to read, words jump off pages and glue themselves into my mind.

"Here," I mumble, turning rigidly to my right. Linux nods, walks up the steps, and kneels down. The other people stand with their backs to us, shielding the kneeling boy and me from sight.