somebody ; minsung

XXIII ; the outlier

It's odd what memory erasure destroys and what slips through the cracks. I remember how to walk and talk and tell time, I know what the sky looks like, the scudding clouds and fiery sunsets, though I haven't seen one since I regained consciousness.

On the other hand, I don't remember my favourite music, no books I've read, only a blanket overview of the movies I've watched and no memory of actually watching them. I don't know the city or the names of the streets. For a moment I think I've forgotten the rules of basketball, but a little dribbling and it comes back to me.

Something else erased from my mind was the war between the east and the west. The one cyborgs like me are supposed to win, though how exactly I'm not sure — confidential info, Dr. Song tells me every time I ask. Historians seem to disagree on the cause of the war; some ramble about land disputes while others claim the enemy has always resisted peaceful relations. When I ask which is true, Dr. Song says to err on the side of 'expect the worst from the enemy.'

I prop my face up on my hands, staring down at the textbook. This is a different kind of stasis. Apparently it's part of my cyborg training to study history. It feels more like propaganda — there haven't been any algebra classes to balance out the curriculum.

My eyes wander away. Subject 20, Haruko Taro, is across the table from me, licking her finger every time she flips a page. The sight of her makes the back of my brain itch. Not only the deja vu — she acts strangely around me, constantly checking over her shoulder and glancing up at security cameras.

I've barely even spoken to her. And then she's kicking the shit out of me.

I wheel backward and flip ass over tit, landing face-down on the gym floor. I just stay as I am. I've gotten up too many times to try salvaging my pride now. Lý, Seoyeon and Junghwa are standing by, watching and cringing. I assume the guards are doing the same under their headgear.

The intercom crackles. "Subject 17 relies heavily on brute force and intuition and not enough on skill or forethought. Make note. Subject 20 is proficient."

Haruko just retracts her armour, flicks a hand behind her ear like she forgot her hair is buzzed short.

Training is adjourned after that. The five of us are escorted to the dormitory and left to shower in peace. It's unfortunate that I still get sweaty. Most of my body is artificial, my heart, my lungs — I can even feel where my throat fuses to a synthetic tube — but they couldn't be bothered to remove my sweat glands or something.

For a second I'm surprised that Oracle-approved shampoo smells so dry and smoky. Then I realize Haruko, Seoyeon and Junghwa are standing out of the spray, cigarettes between their fingers.

Seoyeon holds the box out in my direction. "Want a smoke, Prodigal Bot? Free of charge, just for you."

Prodigal Bot? What does she mean by that? "Uh. Really?"

"Don't do it," Lý says. "She's just trying to get you hooked."

"Aw, you think ill of me, don't you?" Seoyeon laughs. "C'mon, a girl's gotta make money, even in a place like this. Besides, what's a little smoking gonna do to us? It'll take a pretty strong cigarette to give a cyborg cancer."

"How did you get them?" I ask.

"You'll see once you've been trapped here as long as I have. It's all about who you know."

"It's contraband?"

"So what if it is?"

"No no no, I'm just surprised you can smuggle stuff in. I thought it was impossible to do anything without being watched."

"Life finds a way, huh? Some of these scientists aren't the saints they act like. Pretty stupid not to put cameras in the shower. Guess they weren't interested in watching us scrub between our cyber-asscheeks. Their loss."

I scan the ceiling. She's right — the room is free of the snakelike motion-sensor cameras that watch our every move, even asleep in the dorms. This might be the only place in the building to find any privacy.

I speak hesitantly, picking my words. "I want to ask... have any of you ever felt deja vu?"

The room goes quiet, just the water pattering on the tiles. I realize they're all looking at me. Lý's expression is stricken. Junghwa is rigid, disapproving. Haruko... almost seems excited.

"Oh ho ho, he finally breaks the silence." Seoyeon stubs out her cigarette on her own hip. "I was wondering how long you'd bite your tongue."

"Seoyeon, shut up," Lý snaps. "Ujin, you shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not? It's just a question — there're no cameras in here anyway."

"If you try to remember, it'll only get worse for you. Just accept your new start."

"I was just asking if anyone else—"

"No," Junghwa interrupts. "I remember nothing from my former life and that's a good thing. Whatever happened before, it brought me here for a reason. It's the same for you."

I clench my jaw, turning to Haruko. She looks away quickly.

The conversation doesn't bounce back. Seoyeon and Junghwa dry off and leave the showers; Lý follows but stalls in the doorway.

"Haruko?"

She just takes another handful of shampoo and puts it on her head. "Be there soon."

Lý bites her lip, disappears around the corner.

We stand in silence for a moment.

"You know something," I say.

"I don't know much." She looks up at me. "But I might know who you are."