Generation X

Chapter Four - Breaking Skylights

4. Breaking Skylights  

              .0144 fiddled with the broken knight. The chess board had been destroyed years ago, when a third gen had stepped on it in anger, and the pieces had been scattered all over the dormitories. .0144 had stuffed the cracked black knight into her hoard before it could be lost or broken further. Now it would hopefully provide a suitable distraction from the thoughts that ripped through .0144’s usual suave calm.

              She could almost hear Silver’s shrieks when 3102 said .0015 would be dismantled echo in her mind. Called .0098 by the scientists but Silver by everyone else, she wasn’t quite right. She definitely wasn’t stupid, but a faulty experiment had made her rather quirky. She was brilliant, and when she went on her bloodlust rampage you didn’t want to get in the way, unless you wanted to be a puddle. Silver and .0015 were as close as you could get to family in the Corporation.

              I don’t care about .0015. She can be dismantled. I couldn’t care less. But still, .0144 couldn’t block the thoughts of the horrors .0015 might be enduring right now, in the lab. .0144 had been there only once, when something had fluked and she had begun coughing up hairballs. One night, she had found a sick first gen in one of the wards. She still couldn’t get the sight of his grey, pallid skin and heaving chest as he struggled for air out of her mind.

              Enough, she told herself firmly, you’re a second gen. You’ll never end up there, you’re smarter than bird-brain and you don’t owe her anything. Cats work alone.

              Maybe a good robbery would take her mind off .0015, but her whole body still hurt from the beating, and she had begun to wonder if one of her ribs was broken. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed that morning, she had just about passed out as she tried. So robbery was out, at least for today. You better watch your back, 3102. I’ll be pick-pocketing you as soon as I can get up.

              The door slid open to the room, empty except for .0144. Everyone else was at lunch, or on a mission. .0144 stiffened, then flopped back on the bed as she realized it was just a transportation unit. Someone had probably told the scientists that .0144 was injured and they were coming to take her to the medical center. .0144 growled deep in her throat.

              “I’m fine—ah!” She yelled in pain as they lifted her silently off the bed and onto the hover-stretcher. Every bruise seemed to scream.

              “Look here, I don’t need any help. I’ll mend on my own!” She said as soon as she caught her breath. The guards guiding the stretcher down the hallways didn’t give any indication of having heard her. She continued to struggle against the bands that held her as the two guards pushed open the swinging double doors to the Medical Center. .0144 burned with shame. She had never had to be here before, she had never gotten hurt during a mission. It was considered a humiliation among the gens to be injured in a mission, and .0144 had made it her goal to never have to come here. All because of the imbecile 3102! Man, if I ever get the chance he will be robbed blind and maybe killed for good measure.

              The medical capsule was cozy, its walls made .0144 feel more secure. A doctor in a white coat walked into the small room, holding a case.

              “Okay, .0144, how did you receive these injuries?” He asked as he pressed a nanopatch on her arm. Instantly the pain lessened, although it still throbbed a little.

              “I fell off a bunk bed,” .0144 lied quickly. To admit to being beaten was even more embarrassing then being taken to the medical center by far.