The Sky Has Fallen

| Chapter 10

"I don't trust him." Vera followed me out of the Center building and out into the street. She glanced back at his office, third-floor window. "I don't."

"I think it's normal not to trust city officials." I pushed my hands into the pockets of my jeans as we made our way towards the street corner. The walking signal faded to black. The red hand told us to stop. "I think it's embedded in every human being."

"I'm not human, though." With both of her hands holding the sides of her hood, she looked at me. "I'm a Pylon, remember?"

My mouth opened awkwardly before I closed it and clenched my jaw.

She was right. I was in the wrong. Humans and Pylons may have resembled each other externally, but that was it. The insides of our workings? I didn't know it. There were documentaries which explained the difference, but I hadn't seen them. Surgery videos made me sick.

"Well," I kicked at the curb as I eyed the streetlight, "just because you're a Pylon, doesn't mean you wouldn't have a soul, right?"

"Souls." Vera snorted and shook her head. "Humans believe in souls. We believe in lights."

I looked at her as she looked ahead. The red hand remained.

"Lights in various forms. Shades. Colors. Strengths. Weaknesses. Just—"

"Lights." Like the stars in her eyes.

"Right." Vera nodded, shooting me a soft smile. Even with those glasses, I saw a twinkle. "Just lights."

The cars coming down the street came to a stop in front of us. I hadn't noticed the signal change, but Vera hadn't either, because she didn't move. We stood there for a moment, looking at each other. Smiling. I wanted to know what went on in her head, curious if she wondered what passed through mine.

Then, she walked forward and crossed the street. Clearly, she didn't wonder enough.

"Well, souls are like lights, too," I said as I caught up to her, walking beside her along the busy sidewalk. Two men dressed professionally with suitcases pushed between us. I stumbled for a bit, having been bumped by one of them. But when I caught my balance, I looked at her again. "Like stars."

"But you can't see a soul, right?" Vera's eyebrows lifted above the sunglasses. "It's just a figment of your imagination."

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there." I shrugged. "Oxygen is around us; we can't see it."

A couple walked between us this time. They laughed together, holding ice coffees in their hands as they huddled close to not bump us.

When they passed, Vera crossed her arms over her chest. "Some atoms are too small to see," she said.

"Exactly!" I smiled. "That doesn't mean they don't exist. So, you guys call it lights. We say souls. And, I mean, not all of us say souls, but it's common."

We continued with no destination. It was easier to walk without the stress of the what-ifs weighing down in your head. I'd done what I wanted to do; I told someone what I knew. The way Holmes reacted to the information wasn't how I pictured it going, but I also hadn't expected to get close to someone to explain it, either. I only hoped he had listened closely, heard the truths, and would call off the dogs around the fair.

Once it was clear, she could head home. Until then, I would keep her company. It was the least I could do.

"Humans." Vera sighed and stopped at the next intersection. "That's the one thing I don't understand about your kind."

Traffic jammed the street; cars were bumper to bumper. A woman in a small two-door honked at the sedan in front of her.

Vera made the good choice to stop. I stopped, too. "What's hard to understand?" I asked, facing her. "We're not difficult."