Triggering an explosion, seventeen-year-old Angeline Castillo bites it, escaping the ÆRA research facility and its horrors... temporarily. Hours later, she awakens - terrified and alone back in the lab, only to discover cybernetic implants replace h...
Perspective is a funny thing. It's a truly fickle gift. Only once you've made an error do you realize it was ever a mistake and learn from it. Sitting here, on the other side of perspective, I can see my errors; and yet, I am confident that given the chance I'd replay my part in all of this, no questions asked. In the grand scheme of things, some difficult choices must be made.
***
The reunion with Victoria and Jaydon is more formal than with Mia.
It's a hug from one and handshake from the other; you can guess which was which. Okay, I admit it: I initiated the hug with Jaydon. Seeing him walking around — alive — feels impossible; giving him an awkward hug makes it seem real, cuz only reality can get that uncomfortable embrace between a tall person and a short person just right. Jaydon's the tallest on our team, which to me seems gigantic, and lanky. Or he used to be, the weeks of training bound his physique in corded muscle that pops out from his skin. He's still thin, but now he's also somehow stacked... and sometimes — like now — he looks uncomfortable in his souped-up form. I know the feeling.
"I still can't believe you're alive," I say.
"Same here, metal-head," he playfully knocks on my skull as if he expects it to ring.
I punch his arm.
"Oh my god," sighs Victoria, turning away to look at the mess on the floor, "where'd you get all this shit?"
"From a stockroom," says Mia. "We liberated it. And now we're going to eat it."
Before us is a pile of food: a culinary spread that, in any other situation, would have been legendary. I'd supplied the chips and soda, and I would have added every bag of Ramen too, except Mia insisted we include something healthy — or else Jaydon would get judgey. And so there went the rest of the space to granola bars, dried nuts, and pretzels. We stacked it all up in front of the wannabe comm station door, like a blockade.
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"There's no way we can eat all this," Victoria says.
"And no way we should either. Doritos, really?" complains Jaydon.
I snatch the bag from him, "So I'll eat them," then I rip the bag open and breathe deeply, "Oh, sweet Jesus..." I probably shouldn't talk so irreverently. Taking the Lord's name in vain probably pisses off everyone I have on high, especially Benjie who was more devout than people twice his size. But, in a time like this, when there's nothing but doom-and-gloom ahead while right in from of me is Heaven incarnate — in the form of MSG and artificial flavoring, all swirling together in a divine combination of powdered cheese... well, nothing quite describes that, so I'm gonna offend my grandma, "Lord help me."
Plus, I'll be going to meet them soon — up there, somewhere beyond the clouds — and they can scold me then all they want, so I might as well enjoy myself for now, with whatever small delights I can get.