CODES

T W O

Staring out of the back passenger-side window, I watched New Chicago's city lights swim by as my taxi took me home. It, like the train station, was unmanned, with no workers. With a finger on my chin, I occasionally glanced at the lonely steering wheel, wondering if it'd get my destination wrong.

But Provincial taxis had been perfect for over twenty years. And most of the city ran on technology alone. The need for humans was simply to code the machines and programs that help the Provincial Nation run smoothly. It was their expertise that gave us a prosperous place to live; a safe place.

That is... a world for just... humans. Throwing us synthetic folk into the mix knocked the world off its course.

There was no need for us. We were extra baggage.

But creating us was a promise made within a legal agreement the minute our Province was born. Because we, the Codes so many had learned to despise, were the very reason the citizens today had a chance to live this way. To be free in this utopia, to never know the pain and fear of reality. Every Code in existence played a part in WWIII; every Code fought for the freedom of the world.

Feeling my phone vibrate in my hands, I glanced down at the slim piece of glass as it illuminated my palm and pushed away my thoughts. In small letters, across its front, was a message from Xerses:

"Shit!" it read. "I forgot to tell you to tell Clara Happy New Year's for me, man!"

I smiled at the message as the car turned down the street lined with tall apartment buildings. Their lobby lights gave the sidewalk a dim blue hue. With my thumb, I quickly replied, "No worries, I'll tell her. Tell Erica the same from me, X."

"You got it, Rog! Night!" Xerses was always quick to respond.

I was thankful for his friendship. Mainly because I didn't deserve it. And it wasn't because I wasn't "real" or too many computers made up my core, but there was a history about us, a damaging one. A past both of us decided to bury and forget.

"We've arrived at your desired location," the taxi's robotic voice said as the car came to a stop.

Looking up from my phone, I glanced at the building I called home. The light's to the apartment I lived in were on, and I knew she was waiting.

"Thank you," I said, looking back at the car's front dashboard. "Charge the cab fair to account Burrows, 09812."

"Payment confirmed. Thank you for riding with Provincial Cabs. Have a wonderful night."

Wonderful night.

Stepping out of the taxi, I knew my night would get better. It was easy to absorb the hate I dealt with daily, to push it down into my core, but my smiles weren't real until I came home and walked up these steps to her.

Clara Burrows, the girl who helped make all of this possible.

Pushing open the lobby door, I reminded myself that she'd be there, wide awake with coffee in her hands. I knew dinner would've been on the table, even though I didn't need to eat. But she knew because it happened every time, that I'd devour every morsel to make her happy.

She made me happy.

She makes me real.

I stopped outside our apartment door and rested my hand on the knob before giving it a slow turn. The struggles of the day, the arguments that'd occurred during the week in New York, fell off of me and crashed out on the hallway floor. I never brought them home with me. She wasn't oblivious to the truth of our world, but I hated to let it tarnish the moments we had together.

Opening the door, I reminded myself that the studio apartment we shared was our only safe place. The four walls protected our love. And inside it, I made peace with the future that hated my guts.

Because she loved every bit of me.

And as I thought, seated on the couch in front of our wall-mounted TV, was Clara. A pink coffee mug was in her hand; an orange one sat on the coffee table in front of her. She turned and looked at me as I locked our door behind me and when I removed my coat, she placed her cup in front of her and hurried in my direction.

With her arms suddenly around my neck, I looked down into her honey-brown eyes, catching the reflection of my synthetic blues in them. I smiled at her. "Hey, Doll," I said.

"Hi, babe," she whispered and rubbed her nose against mine. "Don't tell me about your day."

Don't bring our pains past that doorsteps. Ever.

"Don't tell me about yours." I cupped her chin with one hand and kissed her softly. "Is that cup for me?" I nodded towards the small table.

"Yes." The tips of her fingers played with the ends of my hair. "Our New Year's tea."

I couldn't hide my chuckle. "Remember when you didn't want tea?"

"Oh, yeah, well..." Clara slid away from me, her hands pressing into the front pockets of her baggy hoodie. She giggled before she took a few steps away from me. "You know, things change."

I watched her hips sway as she walked. And I sighed. They do.

I followed her onto the couch. Before she could sit, I did and pulled her on my lap. And they will.

When her eyes locked onto mine, I said, "Want to know what doesn't change?"

"What's that?" she asked, eager for my answer.

Outside. The world. The truth.

I brushed my fingertips across her cheek before I kissed her. "Coming home to you."

A/N:

Sorry for the delay with chapter posts! <3 With the holidays coming to an end and the New Year upon us, sharing this chapter with Roger going home to Clara is fitting. 

If you're reading this story, thank you so much!