Starlight twinkles through the nearing clouds; dark, light, dark, light. The wind whips over the rolling, grassy hills, picking up leaves and feathers. Ezekiel kneels beside me, dirt on his knees and my hand in his dusty hair. We stare up at the heavy sky, waiting, waiting, for the rain to fall and wash us clean. This is our sky, our land, our home. This is our world. A moment that will last forever... even if we don't.
"It still doesn't feel real," Ezekiel confesses.
"It's real," I promise.
"Are you glad your mamma got home last night?" he asks, trying to change the subject and pass the time. I let him. I don't want to think about what's coming.
"Of course," I reply, "I missed her so much. Since the trouble with the rebels, her part of the police force has been super busy. Everyone is trying to copy the 'hound' power, and they keep failing. But she said that's confidential, so don't tell anybody!"
"Who would I tell? We're the only kids as far as the eye can see," Ezekiel laughs, standing up and walking off a little to gesture widely around. I frown, sliding my hands into my pockets; a habit I've picked up from him.
"But you're moving to the city, soon," I say softly, "And there'll be lots of kids there." There's no avoiding the subject, now. He's leaving. He's leaving me.
"It's only for a little while," he says, "I'll be back before you know it."
"Unless you decide to stay... Go to high school there..." I remind him.
Ezekiel shakes his head, ruffling his hair a little. It's brilliantly white, but his eyebrows and lashes are dark. His father, Andrew, has the exact same colouring, and his mother has shiny red hair. They'll be gone, too, and my family will be left alone amongst the rolling hills.
"Dad says things are getting rougher in the city," he says hesitantly, "We don't get it much here, because we're so far away, but the public doesn't like anyone who isn't part of Movement Robotica. The rebels your mother talked about are making it worse, too."
"But you always wanted to go to Sacoryx school," I say, fighting off the frown. "What are you going to do?"
Ezekiel shrugs, "Maybe I just won't tell anybody. I'll just pretend I'm like everyone else. Or maybe I'll come straight back."
I nod sadly. He won't come straight back - even if the others treat him terribly. He won't care what they think.
I don't want him to go, but this could be his one chance to get into the fancy art school in the city. I'll miss him every day, but it's for the best. That's what I keep reminding myself, at least.
"Don't worry," he says, noticing my trepidation, "I'll write to you every week, on the old paper just like you wanted. I've been practising my handwriting, too."
"You could just call."
He steps close and wraps me in his arms, swaying a little. I can hear his steady heartbeat, and it soothes my own frantic one.
"I'm going to write letters," he says, "Because you like letters. And besides; if I call, how will I know your dad isn't listening in, hmm?"
"Then I'll always write back," I promise.
"And who knows," Ezekiel adds, "Maybe in two years, you can join me there. Imagine it; you and I in the big city."
"But until then... Just promise me this," I say, tugging his shirt a little, "Promise you won't forget me."
"I won't," he says with a little grin. He already know what I'm about to ask.
"Honest?"
"I promise. I could never forget you, Rain."
~~~
I rub my bleary eyes, and find myself in a simple white room full of strange metal contraptions. The design is something like a hospital of old, but not quite right.
I can't tell if I've been dreaming or in a memory-trance, but my eyes feel like they're full of sand and my throat is dry.
Rain. My name is Rain.
Ezekiel tried to give me clues.
'It's a sort of rainy-blue,' he'd said. He knew I didn't know what that meant.
His usually white hair, coloured differently every week to try and jog my memory.
It was rainy-blue the last time we met.
He knew me before the Compound. He knows my parents.
I wasn't at the Compound my whole life.
I was Rain, a girl who lived in an old wooden cottage amongst some grassy hills.
I can be that girl again.
"Don't move," says the metal-faced robot from the helicopter, "You might feel some slight dizziness."
"What are you doing to me?" I murmur, my voice scratchy and somewhat slurred. I'm strapped down to an uncomfortable bed, bright lights gleaming down on me. The fully metal robot potters around me, and beyond it, I see a large tinted window, shadowy figures barley visible on the other side. Watching me.
"I have collected some minor blood samples, and put you through a couple of medical scans. Nothing to be afraid of."
The robot's voice warbles and rises distortedly, a too loud and close by.
"Is that all the testing?" I ask, a little scared about the answer.
The robot peers down at me, its solid features completely emotionless. I wonder if it has feelings? It doesn't seem to.
"No," the robot finally says, "I was also scanning your subconscious neural activity."
"You're talking about my dream," I say, my voice a soft gasp. I don't know how I know, but the robot nods a 'yes.'
"What did you dream?" the robot asks, turning its back on me, "These charts suggest it was a memory."
"It was," I confess, "How do you know?"
The robot adjusts the uncomfortable bed and I tilt into a sitting position, still secured at my hands and feet. Now I can see the room better, and the glowing charts on the walls.
"The part of your brain that imagines new creations was not active, but that of recalling true events was. However, your reactions were that of experiencing something for the first time, suggesting that the memory was very old and perhaps forgotten."
"And you got all that from these charts?" I ask in wonder, staring at the swirling colours and shapes.
"Tell me your dream," it says. Even though its voice is emotionless, I know it's getting impatient. The robot is busying itself with tiny vials of blood on the counter nearby, its back to me.
I don't want to tell it my dream - it's a private dream, a memory of my very own that I want to keep to myself.
"What's your name?" I ask. The robot is very still.
"I am a second-series Medprobe-3," it says. "My serial number is 261."
"I didn't mean what you're called, I meant what's your name?" I insist.
"I do not have a name," the robot says.
"Everybody has a name," I say softly.
Rain, my name is Rain.
"I do not," the robot says. I think for a moment.
"What do you want your name to be, then? What can I call you? How about... 'Shiny?' That's a pretty name," I offer.
"Jennifer," the robot says, turning a towards me. I smile.
"That's a much better name than Shiny. Nice to meet you, Jennifer. My name is Rain."
The door opens and Jennifer turns away again as the two Hounds, Volsus Rah, and a fourth hooded person walk into the room. The Hounds undo my shackles, and I rub my aching wrists as Volsus Rah stands over me, his moon-white eyes barely visible under his hood. They don't mention or seem to care about who the fourth person is.
"Follow me," says Volsus, the metal on his jaw catching the light as he grins.
I join the group as we walk down bright, impressive halls, teeming with hooded figures walking this way and that. I vaguely wonder if they only wear hoods because the lights are so bright.
Wordlessly, we pass through a set of double-doors and into a much darker hall, lit only by the large windows lining the walls and what glows brightly beyond them. Enormous, glimmering machines glint in the hidden warehouse beyond the windows, sparks flickering and torchlight bouncing off them as metal arms sculpt, wire and repair. They're as big as buildings themselves, a thousand hooded workers swarming the floor beneath them.
"What are they?" I gasp, pressing my palms against the cool glass.
"The future," Volsus says, "And the reason we sought you out so desperately."
I look to him in questioning, and he gestures further down the flickering hall for me to see. I walk a little ways until the view out the window changes, and a great swirling staircase comes into view, dropping from higher than I can see, all the way down to the floor amongst the giant metal creations. They carry supplies and scraps up and down, transporting the pieces that are needed to build these huge contraptions.
"Robotic advancement has grown out of our control," Volsus says, "Our aim is to take it back - to take us somewhere that we haven't yet moulded into our own image. We want the world to open their eyes and realise that humanity is perhaps not the biggest thing out there. That we are only small in this universe of infinite possibility."
"They're rocket ships," I breathe, the smooth glass catching a cloud.
"To a crude mind, perhaps," Volsus says. "We have become so obsessed with eternal life that we have become lifeless. A man will focus so desperately on his job in advancement that he will ignore the family he has right in front of him. We have tried so earnestly to become God. But it's time for us to re-learn what we are. It's time for the people to open their eyes to a universe that is bigger than they are..." His gaze turns from me to the machines through the window, and he presses his own hand against the glass, "For there is nothing like staring into the eyes of oblivion... and letting it consume you."
"And what do you need me for?" I dare to ask. Volsus kneels in front of me, drawing back his hood and gazing at me with his pearlescent eyes.
"There is something impure about a body riddled with technology. Not because of the metal itself," he says quietly, faintly touching his jaw, "But because of the vanity that inspired the transformation. If we are to learn once more what it means to be human," he places a hand on the side of my face, "We will need an example."
I step back, something not quite sitting right with me. Volsus talks all daydreams and happy futures, but he's hiding something. Perhaps it's my own special gift to sense something hidden - but this is worse than anything Teacher or Moira ever kept from me. There is something sick, something evil hidden beneath all these good intentions.
"What will I need to do?" I ask softly, sure to keep my voice the same. Seven wants me to find out what information I can, so that's what I'll do.
"You, and the male, too, will be lifted up among the people. Your days of hiding will be over, and you will walk among our leaders - revered and adored by all. Then, when it is you who points to the eternal skies, every eye will turn in obedience. You will be the sunlight that warms the multitudes to our cause."
"And if they say 'no'?" I ask.
"They won't," Volsus says. A warning flares inside me - this, this is something he's hiding. A terrible punishment for those who don't join the cause? A horrific way of assuring everyone will obey?
"But what if they do?" I insist. Volsus steps back, and the fourth hooded figure - who I'd almost forgotten was there, places a hand on his shoulder.
"That's surely enough questions for now, isn't it?" Volsus asks. I bite my tongue, ready to retreat to quietude, when something catches my eye. The long fingers clasping Volsus Rah's shoulder, tightening just a little. His skin is very pale, with a coloured tint that looks almost... lavender.
"What will you do if the people don't agree with you?" I ask again, forcing confidence into my shaky voice. The two Hounds who have shadowed us this entire time glance between each other, but say nothing. Volsus sighs a little, and when he speaks, his metal jaw is just a bit slack, his voice just a bit slurred.
"We have... a fear tactic..." he says tiredly, "The Hounds... We are the first ones to... almost... successfully replicate the well-known ability of operative Two. They will be our... executioners..."
The leader Hound lunges forward, shoving Volsus in the back. "What's wrong with you!?" he roars, grabbing Volsus by the throat. Volsus Rah shake his head, blinking his milky eyes. The fourth man's hands are tucked behind his back.
"I don't..." Volsus looks at me, "What did you do?"
"I just asked you a question," I say innocently, my heart pounding.
Volsus turns back to the Hound, then brushes him off. "Let go of me," he orders, "Get this girl back to detainment. Now." He sweeps down the hall as he pulls his hood back on, disturbed and confused.
The two Hounds move forward, but the fourth hooded man grabs both their wrists. They whirl on him, but with only a faint glow of light, they relax.
"You have done very well today," says the man in a familiar accent, "You have earned yourselves a break, and you can trust me to take care of the human prisoner. Go and enjoy yourselves, and do not worry about what has happened here today."
The pale blue-purple glow reflects on the Hounds faces, and then they relax and wander quietly away through a set of doors, off to who-knows-where. Maybe to take a nap.
"Three!" I gasp, hugging him tightly around the middle. I glance up to see a faint blush covering his pale cheeks. He awkwardly returns the hug, just a bit too big and stiff to be comfortable.
"Are you safe?" he asks when I pull away, still keeping his hood drawn low. How did he even get in here?
"I think so," I reply, looking up and down the hall. There's no way the people down through the windows can hear us. "Seven's here somewhere. He said he can get us out if things go bad."
"I'm sure he can, but why hasn't he, yet?" Three asks. I nod towards the windows, looking out once more at the gleaming giants being built.
"He wants to get as much information about these people as he can. I've been trying to help, too," I explain.
Three keeps his hands behind his back as he looks down his nose at the robots. "You were right to be suspicious," he says, leaning towards the glass a little, "I've been doing a bit of my own investigating. That Volsus Rah fellow is a parts collector; and not always law-abiding. He doesn't care if the parts he's collecting are straight from the factory, harvested from the dead, or from the living. Most of what he and his people collect go into building these monstrosities," he taps the window for emphasis, "But he keeps anything he deems 'special' in a private display."
"He probably collects things so he can feel like he owns them - like he has power over the technology. He wants to show everyone that they've lost control over robotics, but he still strives for it himself," I remark quietly. "He's a hypocrite."
"Precisely," Three says. He turns to me and offers a faint smile, barely visible under his hood, "You're doing well. Seven will be proud of you."
Heat blossoms in my cheeks, and I glance away. Why would he say that?
"He's probably waiting right now... I'll show you where they're 'keeping' us," I say, more to change the subject than anything. "We should tell him all we've learnt."
"Spoken like a true operative," Three says, following close beside me.
When we reach the blank white room, Three pretends to direct me inside, then steps in after me and closes the door behind us.
"What are you doing here?" Seven demands, walking right up to Three and flicking his hood off. Three shrugs, looking around the room.
"Research," he says. He nudges me. "Tell the hothead what we found."
"They're building giant rocket ships. Made out of robot parts. Some from living people," I relay. Seven purses his lips, nodding grimly.
"I suspected they were building something. I found blueprints. The man who conducted my testing wouldn't tell me anything, so I went for a look myself. Found a control room, a security room. What do they want rocket ships for?"
"Perspective," Three explains, "Volsus Rah is anti-Movement Robotica, he wants to teach everyone to be human again, and show them how unimportant they are in, what did he say - the eyes of oblivion?"
"He's crazy," I say, just a little bit frightened, "He'll use the Hounds to kill anyone who doesn't agree with him."
"We'll stop him," Seven says.
"Yes," Three agrees, "And we'll do it from the base."
Seven stills, watching the pale Siren. "Why?"
"Because that's where we work from, Seven," Three warns, "It's dangerous to stay here."
"We've been fine so far," Seven shrugs, "All they've done are some scans and blood tests, right?"
He looks to me for backup, and I hesitantly nod my agreement.
"And what happens when it's not fine?" Three asks, remaining calm, "When the girl gets hurt and you can't protect her... What then, operative Seven?"
"I'll~"
"Rain," I interrupt, catching them both off guard. "You just called me, 'the girl,' but... My name is Rain."
Three's pale blue eyes subtly widen in shock, then his serene smile returns. "A pleasure, Rain," he says softly, shaking my hand, "My name is Ilya."
He holds my gaze for a moment, smiling kindly, before he turns to Seven and sighs. "I trust her more than I do you," he says, "But I doubt the others want you back at base, anyway. They haven't taken lightly to your deceit."
"My deceit," Seven scoffs, pacing the blank white room, "And what was I supposed to do? Announce from the rooftops that, by the way, I'm human, too?"
"You were supposed to trust us," Ilya says softly, "...And give us a reason to trust you."
Seven's hands slide into his pockets, his stance squaring. "Don't," he says, closing his eyes for a moment, "Don't pretend like you wouldn't have looked at me differently. Like you wouldn't have treated me differently."
Ilya looks hurt, for only a moment. Then he straightens, his features falling back into serenity. "You're right, Seven. We would have treated you differently. But then we would have moved past that. You're our brother. One of us. If anything, the revelation of your humanity only makes your efforts more impressive."
"Your flattery won't work on me," Seven says flatly. "We're staying here as long as we need to."
"Perhaps you ought to let Rain decide that for herself," Ilya says coolly. My insides flip when he says my name aloud like that. It's me! It's me! But those happy thoughts vanish when the two young men turn to me and I realise the choice I'm faced with.
I don't have to stay here. I can go back to the Painted People - back to Isaiah and Gloss and Neptune, where I get my own room and meals and clothes. Where I can make friends and be happy.
Or...
"I want to stay," I confess softly, "We've already discovered so much in the short while we've been here. Maybe we can learn enough to stop Volsus Rah."
Ilya sighs, defeated. "I though you'd say as much. At least negotiate with me on this..." He places a small metal device in the palm of my hand, "This is the latest communication device that Zero has made - much less cumbersome and visible than the usual ones with the microphones... Stay here, but please keep in contact with us. For Six's sake, at least... Seven can show you how to use it."
I close my fingers around the device, nodding fervently. "I will."
"Thank you, Rain," he says, turning towards the door, "I'll have to lock you in, hope you don't mind."
"We don't," Seven says shortly. Three glances back, gives us each a small nod, then leaves.
Me and him, him and me. We are alone once more.