Zero

1

All oppression creates a state of war --Simone de Beauvoir

             

Download Fistbump     Nation for free from the App Store. (forthcoming)

    

           

            ZERO GUESSED HIS mom had given him that name because like all males he was a zero. But he couldn't worry about that now. His every action was being uploaded to the Sphere, and though the footage would be restricted, he had no doubt it'd effect his position in the Queue, his real-time social rank, determined by the number of adores he received from females.

After all this was his chance to prove his worth to the Motherland.

            Catching his breath, he managed to climb to standing position in time to spot the battlebot -- a balled fist of metal, three times his height-- lumbering toward him, trotting on four arrowed stilts that dug into the earth.

            He crossed his arms above his head without knowing why. "Over here metal mouth!" he yelled.

            Then he pounded across the saser (sound laser) scarred soil, trying to lure the bot away from his comrades. But could he outsmart this bot upgrade? He gasped, spit stringing from the corners of his mouth, then zeroed in on a distant shrub. His comrades depended on their captain.

            At once he wondered what he was doing. He was nothing, a disposable male. The idea of a male squad was absurd. Men were nothing. He was nothing. With a sigh. he raised his squad automatic to his face and slapped himself three time.

            Swiftly the bot descended upon him, lurching across slate slabs that every-angled out of the ground. A hook snagged Zero's pant leg, snapping him skyward. Blinded by the sun, his chest banged hard on the laminate ground.

He freed his leg, slumping back onto the ground. He felt a smile break across his face so wide the corners of his mouth seemed to touch his earlobes. No doubt his fellow Jackers were hidden nearby, perhaps strategizing a counter-attack, but he didn't sense anyone near, nor hear the wheep of jetpacks, lofting soldiers into the air. Where were they?

            Now he righted himself, kicking backward on his butt, his eyes drawn toward the bot's extended kill-saws, spinning so swiftly they seemed still.

            The bot raised its fearsome tail -- a metal scythe that reflected light made flutter. He felt a pang of anxiety. Trying to stand, he slipped on something slick, nose-diving back to the ground.

            Being this near a bot made him aware of his thin boyish calves, so skinny they couldn't be seen from the front the way his dads had ... at least in his memory of them.          

He pressed his lips flat, fighting back the tears. Suddenly, he doubted he'd ever become a man. At least not a man like his dad, a man his mom could love. A man worthy of the highest accolade possible for a male in the Motherland, a man worthy of the title: Honorary Female.

            Now a blah sensation jangled down the length of his arm. Focus buddy. He had to stay razor. He whispered to his Isis bracelet, upping the exo-muscle fiber setting to Maximum.

            He worked to slow his heart-rate. Perhaps the bot sensors could glean human vitals. He didn't want the bot to determine how scared he was. For an instant, he felt hopeful, then the fear returned.

            "I guess it's just you and me, metal mouth," he said. "Come and get me."

The bot complied, swiping Zero off his feet again. Blinded by a rhomboid of light, he tried to up himself, but his body wouldn't obey. He felt the same disorientation he experienced when he tried to imagine the interaction of curves in higher Calculus.  Help! He winced as the bot raised its kill saws. Someone, help!