Electricity (On hold indefinitely)

Sixteen

Synapse glanced at Lullaby, but his eyes were set dead ahead on Siren. Siren, their reinforcements. Siren was a boy a year older than the two of them, with skin the color of a half-roasted marshmallow and blue-green eyes like dew on a saturday morning. Saturday Morning, like Lullaby. Maybe those dewy eyes, those Saturday-Morning eyes, were what had Lullaby so enthralled. 

With Siren's presence in the mission, another protective tool had been added to their armory: yellow earplugs, the kind pilots use to block out the sounds of roaring jet planes. Earplugs, air filters, thick plastic gloves.

The earplugs and air filters didn't come off for the whole of the time they were weaving through the forest. Earplugs because Siren's voice was enough to put someone into ten seconds' trance; filters because Lullaby stepped forward to knock out one of the scouts while Synapse zapped the other.

Paralysis, then sleep or death. Synapse taught herself not to feel guilty about it. It was war. She was more machine than human. These were automations. She removed herself from the killing because if she didn't she would fail.

Besides, it was only cardiac arrest. Some of them would live. It wasn't quite as much energy as she'd used on Ethan. They were young. They were healthy. They'd all need new chips but a good two-thirds or so of them would probably wake up.
Siren waited for them at the edge of the trees. He'd gone a couple steps ahead of them but the only reason he was here was to sing the scouts into a trance. Now that the revolution's base was within their reach, the only duty belonged to Synapse and Lullaby. They all pulled out their earplugs to speak.

"I'll wait for you here," Siren said. "Once you're inside Lullaby can do all the putting-to-sleep. "

"Okay," Synapse replied. "Thanks for coming with us. I know it was dangerous."

"No problem," Siren replied. "Orders are orders. It's my duty to follow them."

Lullaby nodded. They all knew that Siren meant friendship by that, but of course, friendship was an elusive thing in the Complex and you had to read between the lines to see it. Just because people were careful. No one wanted to be too closely associated with someone if they started having rebellious thoughts.

They left the siren in the trees and advanced. Men on the rooftop, men with guns. That was no good. They kept a careful vigil and Synapse and Lullaby sat behind a rock for some time wondering what to do.

It was Siren who came to their rescue, though he didn't have to: his part was done. He emerged from the trees into an open area and the closest rooftop scout opened fire on him; he slunk back into the trees without injury, and all the scouts rushed over to see where the disturbance was.

Lullaby and Synapse snuck into the building while the scouts had their focus elsewhere, whispering silent prayers of thanks into the wind. That, they knew, was bold of Siren. It was trust. It was self-sacrifice, or in the very least, self-risk. Even if the Administrators would never find out that he overstepped his orders--in an act of friendship or, if Synapse had judged the looks between the two boys correctly, love--it had been an obvious risk. And he'd taken it valiantly.

Valiantly like the wind.

The filter was snug over their mouths for only a tenth of a second before Lullaby began his assault on the building. Two men rushed them but they were asleep in seconds. Everyone else in the rebellion would be asleep in minutes more.

The government could have told them to kill everyone here. To dismantle the revolution and leave behind nothing but ashes. They could have set the building on fire or even walked through the dreamland slitting sleeping throats.

But they'd been ordered to do no such thing, and so they did not.

Data was more of the government's concern, and that was exactly where Synapse came into play. If they'd wanted someone to knock out scouts in the woods, after all, there were better choices: but Synapse was the whole mission. A drive of decoy data to plant and ten drives of data to fill, all in Synapse's pocket. Her fingers tickled with anticipation. She didn't get to meld with machinery very often, and it was a thrilling experience.

That was why she was called Synapse, after all. Her gift wasn't about electricity--that was just a byproduct of it. It was about the way she could communicate with computers like friends saying a passing hello.

The building was eerie quiet. To be expected. Occasionally they heard a snore, but nothing more, not until they were close to their destination. A man stepped out wearing a gas mask that dated back to the twentieth century. And in this ancient apparel, he advanced.

Synapse and Lullaby shared a glance, although they didn't have to. The implications of this were clear. Lullaby couldn't do a thing to this man; Synapse would have to take the job.

"My name is General Matthews," the man said. "You are trespassing."

"Trespassing," Synapse replied, standing her ground as the man strode closer. "That's cute. This land belongs to the government."

"Not anymore," the man said. "It belongs to the revolution, now. And soon the whole world will be free of the First Empire's grip."

Synapse shrugged, stepping closer since the man had stopped. "Looking forward to it," she said. "Let me know when I'm free. Until then, I have orders."

"You're free now, if you want to be. All you have to do is surrender."

She laughed. "What is this? Are you trying to tempt me? Entice me into joining your little mutiny? The First Empire is everywhere. It is everything. It could crush you under its thumb if it wished.

"But I could crush it, couldn't I? If I wanted to. I could single-handedly take it down." She looked at him. "You could tell, couldn't you? I don't walk like a slave."

He shrugged. "But you're not going to join us, are you?"

She shook her head. "I've never believed in romantic ideas like freedom and justice. It's how I stay alive. It's how I stay sane."

She leaned in. "After all, killers can't feel remorse," she whispered. And then she reached for his arm, hoping he would be distracted, but he darted away and pulled a gun and pointed it at her.

"You killed Ethan," he said.

"I did," she replied.

"You killed our scouts."

She shrugged. "It's possible. I'll never know if I did. You'll find out tomorrow morning when you all wake up, I guess."

He frowned. "But you're not trying to kill anyone, are you? You don't want to."

Lullaby watched Synapse carefully, but she just narrowed her eyes and kept her face expressionless and gave nothing away.

"Well?"

She leaned against the wall. "If I say I don't want to kill anyone, will you take off that gas mask?"

"Not a chance."

"Well," she said. "Then here is how I feel. I don't care. I don't care if I kill them and I don't care if I don't. That is all."

"Are you a machine?"

She smiled. "Perhaps more than you know."

"Syn," Lullaby said.

"I know," she said back.

"You know what?"

And he'd done it, just like Lullaby said. Touched the metal bar on the wall. She was ready, her fingers poised against it. He never got an answer to that question because in a moment he was frozen in shock. Not passed out--what Synapse had zapped him with was little more than a spark. But he didn't react like he should have when Lullaby leapt forward and ripped the gas mask from his face. A couple seconds more and he was sleeping peacefully on the floor.

"That was close," Lullaby said.

Synapse nodded.

"You gave away too much," Lullaby said.

Synapse nodded again.

"But he won't remember," she said. "He'll wake up tomorrow without a clue."

"You're right," he said. But maybe she wasn't.

They kept walking. "The control room is in here," Synapse said, and slowly they opened the door.