Relics, Wrecks and Ruins

Geisha Boy ^{By Kylie Chan}

Dot stepped outside into the midday gloom. She scanned the area automatically. No visible threats. She latched the door, though there was little of value—that anyone would find, anyway—in the ex-sewage pipe she called home. But if she left it unlocked, someone in the undercity would take the steel bucket she used to collect acid rainwater.

Her body felt heavy, depleted. From lack of energy or too little… everything, she didn’t know. One of those she could fix. If the sun was out.

The other… well. She’d stopped hoping a long time ago. They deserved to live. She deserved to live. Just not together.

She tightened her faded blue cotton robe and pants, hiding the carapace and extra appendages that made her neighbors uncomfortable. Turning, she nearly walked into one of them: Mrs. Kensington. The thin, tired woman held a filthy, squalling baby and Dot resisted the urge to take the child from her and cradle it.

“Please?” Mrs. Kensington said.

“I have nothing for you,” Dot said. “It hasn’t rained in days. I don’t have enough to process yet.”

Kensington glanced up as if hoping to see through the buildings piled on buildings, to see the clouds and open air that only the Cadre and other overcity residents owned. Then she dropped her gaze and turned away. The baby stared over her mother’s shoulder from sunken, shadowed eyes.

Dot watched them go.

Nearby, a kid crouched, hiding something. Dot smiled faintly. There was a gap in the plate directly above her pipe where a telecoms tower stabbed through. A small spot of sunlight fell on the acid-etched concrete and kids squabbled over the patch of brightness. The boy thrust a handheld charger into that tiny square of light, shifting carefully as the sun above moved, occasionally checking around to make sure nobody would push him off.

With no time to waste, Dot released a couple of appendages, hoisted herself on top of her three-meter-tall pipe and clambered up the tower. She moved quickly; there was no telling how long the sun would stay out and she was starving. She reached the fifteen-centimeter-wide gap and shifted her carapace to make her body the same width as her head. She squeezed through the hole and squinted against the sunshine.

She hesitated for a moment, allowing all her eyes to adjust, then swarmed up the pole to reach a height where she was invisible to the overcity dwellers. The pole’s top was a prickly cluster of antennae and boosters. There, she put herself into position, and pulled her robe off. She spread her arms wide, released all her appendages and threw her head back, feeling the warmth of the real sun on her shell. The ultraviolet-activated fins sprang out from her back and her whole body turned black as the transdermal solar cells went to work.

Nobody in the clean, bright overcity below was aware of her presence. They floated through their world of glass and steel, well fed and healthy, entertained and educated. Oblivious—or uncaring—of the undercity’s desperation.

She looked down. Pain filled her.

The cherry trees were flowering; pink petals floated on the breeze and carpeted the lush grass of an overcity park. A couple of children—she homed in to see more clearly, and they were a boy and girl—threw petals at each other, laughing.

Just like her girls had. Her girls…

Everything shifted and suddenly she wasn’t a copied mind—a series of numbers in a genetically engineered weapon-body—anymore.

She was Lena: warm and human and in a different time and place altogether.

Now… then… she sat on a red blanket on a grassy hillside, and the warm breeze whipped cherry blossoms into little tornadoes. Her two little girls were laughing and tossing petals into the air. Paul lounged next to her, smiling his big, open smile.

Marika ran to him and flopped to the grass, panting. She gasped a few times, and Paul touched her shoulder gently, as if to say: whatever you want to say, we can wait for it. When she had caught her breath, she scrambled to her feet, grabbed a double handful of the petals, and threw them over her parents. She jumped and clapped, squealing, then ran back to Cesta. The pair grabbed hands and spun each other, around and around, until they both fell to the grass.

Lena sensed Paul watching her and turned to see him smiling.

“I want this time to go on forever,” he said. “I don’t want you to go into the Facility.”

She pulled at the grass. “This is the last one. Then it’s over. The constructs will have everything.”

“Not everything, I hope.” He stroked the side of her face. “Not… you.”

“Only my battle knowledge. There’s a war coming. If sharing my knowledge with the constructs will help protect our people, then it’s worth a little discomfort.” She gazed out over the hillside. “You knew what you were getting into when you married a soldier.”

He gestured towards the girls, who’d picked themselves up and were slowly returning to the picnic blanket. “Did you know what you’d be getting into when we started this, though?”

Marika fell into Lena’s arms, smelling of sweet girl and sunshine.

Lena held her close and smiled back at Paul. “The greatest gift I could give anyone. And after this last session, we’ll be sure it’s protected.”

“It’s a huge burden for one woman to carry.”

“It’s not one woman, it’s an army, and they’re not me, not even copies of me, just shadows.”

Cesta sat next to Paul and he put his arm around her. “I’m glad we have the real thing then.”

Lena buried her face into Marika’s hair. “Forever.”

A cloud passed before the sun and Dot slipped free of the flashback with a shiver that rattled her carapace. She cursed the fact that she’d left the pills at the pipe, and instead recited the sutra to try and make the memories go away. They were becoming more intense, and more frequent. She shouldn’t even have them. They belonged to Lena, but haunted her anyway.

She examined the overcity again. Maybe the girls were down there. Marika would be finished university now, and Cesta wouldn’t be far behind. She wondered what paths the girls had chosen; neither of them had demonstrated their mother’s aptitude for battle. Marika had loudly expressed a desire to be a doctor when she’d been little, and Cesta had spent all her time drawing.

Was Marika healing the sick, and Cesta producing works of beauty to adorn the glossy walls of the overcity? Or maybe they had grown differently. Either way, they could be down there, strolling beneath the trees, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, living their peaceful lives with their mother and father—their real mother, not Dot.

Would it be possible to find out? The idea of knowing where they were sent a small thrill through her.

She shook her head. No. She was a fool. She couldn’t give in to that hope again. It led to madness.

After all, she was one of the few constructs lucky enough to still be alive. That ought to be enough.

An ultrasonic shot whizzed past her head and she ducked instinctively. What the fuck? She clamped down on the urge to shift gears into combat mode, yanked the fins down and her robe back on.

Another blast hit the steel of the pole, chipping off bits of metal, and she didn’t hesitate. She slid back down the pole as fast as she could, using appendages to slow her fall. The friction took the skin off her hands and shredded the fabric of her pants until the insides of her thighs were raw as well.

Another shot hit the pole just above her, and she ducked. This was too unevenly spaced to be an automatic defense program for the tower. But they were obviously not trying to kill her. She stopped for a moment, half-sheltered by an overhanging building, and searched for a sniper or drone. The urge to shred her attacker with her claws was almost overpowering.

The next ultrasonic hit her square on the left shoulder. Her left hand numbed and lost grip. She began to slide again. Faster. Unable to hold on with her appendages without doing serious damage to the metal. She hit the plate below hard, wriggled through the hole in the plate, and paused to catch her breath.

Okay, maybe they were trying to kill her. She thanked the Buddha that the junction of the plate and the pole had an electrified fence around it, otherwise she could have hit an overcity resident when she fell. Damaging the overcity or hurting its residents would see her terminated or back in the Facility.

She slid down the side of her pipe, took a few long, slow breaths, and went inside to change clothes. By the time she’d finished dressing, the skin of her hands and thighs was already regrowing and the desire to kill had faded.

This wasn’t the first time in the last few months that they’d tried to discourage her recharging trips to the overcity. But it was the first time they’d aimed to hit. What had changed? She’d just need to be more careful and not annoy any of the Cadre who ran the overcity. If she stayed out of their way, they would keep leaving her alone.

She sank onto the gray-brown pallet bed, stared for a long time at a discolored square patch of concrete on the floor, then studied her quarters. The walls were gray concrete. Acid rain trickled down via a funnel from the outside, leaving eroded channels. The steel bucket she used to collect the stuff was half-full. Still not enough to process for Mrs. Kensington and her children. The only other possession in her tiny habitation was a reading chair upholstered in torn brown leather.

Yes, this was her life. As safe as she could be. As safe as she could make it for the undercity dwellers—and for Lena’s daughters.

Three thumps rattled the door and she saw a slim infrared silhouette through the flimsy wood.

“Dotti, it’s me, Naoki,” he said through the door.

“Fuck off,” she yelled as she pulled closer the loose robe that covered her body.

“Come on, Dotti, let me in,” he said.

Her vision blurred for a second and she checked her pill stash, wondering if she should take one. No. Naoki wouldn’t ask any stupid questions or trigger her combat mode.

“Okay,” she said.

The door opened and Naoki flounced in, leaving it ajar behind him. He wore a kimono that floated like flower petals, transparent in some places and a liquid sheen of color that flowed and moved in others. He fell into the reading chair and placed a red handbag that probably cost more than the entire block Dot lived in on the end of the bed.

He smelled sweetly of the cherry blossom dessert, sakuramochi.

“You here to fuck?” she asked.

“Not on that bed I’m not.” Naoki pouted, his white makeup and red lips perfect and out of place in the undercity. He eyed her appraisingly. “I’ll fuck if you’ll let me do a makeover on you.”

“Go to hell.”

He shrugged and managed to look coy and wanton at the same time, eyes half-lidded, one shoulder peeking out from the kimono. “I’ll let you teach me some more.”

“You asked me to teach you. I did it against my better judgement, and my bet is that when you tried all the rough stuff on your bitches, they got turned off straight away and you lost at least two clients.”

“Only one.”

“See? They love you for your feminine good looks, honey.” Dot leaned back against the cold concrete. “Use it. Don’t try to be something you’re not.”

“Wow, very Zen.”

“Cut the bullshit. Why are you here? You in trouble with a man again?”

He sighed theatrically. “Why won’t they leave me alone? Do I need a sign on my ass saying ‘closed for business, vaginas only’?”

Dotti barked a laugh. “Probably.”

“No, I’m not in trouble with a man. It’s worse than that.”

“Oh, shit, don’t tell me you fell in love with a cute little girl from the Mansions.”

“Worse.” Naoki dropped the pretense of being a pretty, brainless geisha and frowned. “I have a sponsor. I went exclusive.”

“Who?” she asked sharply.

“Zheng Yongxin.”

She sat up straight. “Holy fucking mother of God, Naoki, what the fuck? Didn’t I tell you? Two fucking years ago, I told you—”

“I know!” he yelled. “Don’t get mixed up with Cadres, and whatever you do, don’t go exclusive with one. But Dotti, it was so great. She bought me all these clothes and shoes, and we went shopping together, she rented me an apartment in the overcity, she let me do a makeover on her, it was so great…”

“And then she asked you to go exclusive and you said yes, seeing the yuan signs flying around her head. You stupid bitch.”

He winced. “She knows my history, that I ran away from that arranged marriage with the old guy. When she proposed going exclusive, it was more than just for my looks. She knows I’m educated and from a good family. She likes my intelligence and guts. She loves the way I sing. She may even be able to get me a recording contract.”

Dot shook her head and flung her arms out. “Well, enjoy your golden cage, little boy. You could have had your own geisha house in a couple of years and you threw it all away.”

“It’s worse than that.” He checked over his shoulder, rose, ran to the door, and closed it. “I think she backed me up,” he whispered.

She laughed again. “Yeah, sure. Why the hell would she do that when there’s a million more like you at the houses all dying to get into her pants?”

Naoki sagged into the chair. “I think I made her angry. She wanted me to have her baby. She’s too old to have kids, so she asked me to do it for her.”

Dot stared. “You’re pregnant?”

“No way. I am not sacrificing my figure to get the implants so some old bitch can have her dream child.”

“So, what, then?” Dot scowled. “You think she backed you up in a fit of anger? How do you know? And why would she?”

“She wants a version of me that’ll have her baby.” Naoki leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “She’ll make a clone with my memories and education, but one that’ll follow orders, one that’ll have her baby for her. I’m sure she’s backed me up.”

“Not even a Cadre would do anything that illegal, Naoki. This is way beyond paranoid. Besides, the cloning tech was destroyed after the war.” She clenched her teeth to hold in the after me… after all of us.

“You’re one yourself. You know…”

She jumped to her feet. “One of what? One of them?” She pointed at the door, every muscle tensed against the urge to go into combat mode. “Get the fuck out…”

He raised his hands, palms out. “No, no, Dotti, I don’t mean it like that. Hell, girl, you’re one of my best friends. I owe you so much. I’d still be here in the undercity, hiding from the family if it weren’t for you.” He pouted but stopped just short of batting his eyelids. “Just tell me—what was it like being backed up?”

She quivered, her hands balled. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Oh, come on, I heard the rumors. Dots remember, they say.” Naoki tilted his head to one side, gazing at her from under his long fake lashes.

Dot sank back onto the bed. “Dots remember…”

“If you remember what it was like, then you can help me.” He touched her hand, tentatively. “Please? About three months ago, I passed out in a club, high on Z, and lost a whole week. I need to know why.”

“You were passed out on Z, that’s why,” Dot snapped.

“Or Zheng was backing me up, and she’s growing a clone, and when it’s ready she’ll…” His eyes were wide and he grabbed her arm. “She’ll kill me and put the clone in my place, and nobody will know!”

Dot tensed again, looking pointedly at his hand on her arm.

Naoki swallowed and let go. “Isn’t there anything you can remember about the process? Did it make you unconscious for a whole week?” His tone was plaintive.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Your template then. Whatever.” He was desperate. “What was it like?”

“I have no memories from my template,” she lied. “All we got was the template’s military training. Grunts like me didn’t get personal memories.”

His face sagged, brittle cracks appearing in the white makeup.

She softened. “I’ll ask around. I still have old friends in the project, real people who were involved in making us. Give me a couple of days and I’ll find out how it worked.”

He reached into his expensive handbag and thrust a stack of greenish paper at her. “Cash. For you. Thank you.”

“So that’s what it looks like. I’ve never seen it before.” She eyed the money. “You should know better, though. I don’t have any use for this.”

He pushed it forward. “I have plenty, she looks after me. Take it.”

“No.” She didn’t reach for it. “But you can do something for me in return.”

His brows lifted.

She turned and released one of her hidden appendages. She sliced a small piece of blanket from the edge, then hot stamped a couple of identification marks onto it. The claw folded back into her abdominal carapace under the robe, and she passed the blanket piece to him.

“I want you to find out what these two women are doing.”

He studied the piece of blanket, running his finger along the clean edge where she’d laser cut it. “You are seriously scary sometimes. I’ll see what I can turn up, I have access to Comrade Zheng’s data.” He glanced up. “Why do you want to know? These are overcity residents. You’re not going to hurt them or anything like that, are you?”

She shook her head, carefully emotionless. “No, nothing like that. I want to make sure they’re okay. They were civilians caught up in a military action I was part of. It was pretty heavy. I want to make sure they came out the other side and went on to live good lives. They were just little kids.”

“I see.” He stashed the piece of blanket into his bag, then shoved the money at her again. “You might as well take this. I don’t need it. Use it for maintenance or something. You can take it to the bank; they still accept it. Load it into your credit account. It’s as good as money. They still have to take it for another year or two, and it’s completely untraceable.”

“Untraceable?” She took it, running her fingertips over the tough, plastic-feeling paper. “No wonder they’re getting rid of it. They do hate things that are hard to find or control.”

He sent her a wry look in return.

After Naoki left, Dot headed east through twisting alleys lit by dim, flickering shop signs. She worked her way through the narrow, muddy lanes toward Fil’s, staying out of the circles of light and avoiding the puddles of acid.

A group of young-and-stupids tried to order her as she passed them.

“Kill yourself,” one of them said.

Another said it at a higher pitch, trying to hit the exact frequency that she would be forced to obey. “Kill yourself.”

She stopped and rounded on them, and they all took a step back. “Did you just order me to kill you? I must obey.”

“Kill yourself!” one of them shouted, and the others grinned with a combination of fear and bravado.

She dropped her voice and moved closer. “Kill you? You want me to kill you? How about a laser cutter through your eyes? Or I just pick you up and break you in half?”

“You’re not allowed to hurt us,” one said, and the others nodded agreement.

She moved slightly closer and released an appendage, waving its bladed tip in front of their faces. “You sure?”

They weren’t. They ran.

She sighed. She was an idiot. If they told the authorities what she’d said, she could lose free-rein privileges and find herself back in a Facility. All she needed now was to lose her sanity and her freedom at the same time. She took deep breaths to calm herself and walked on.

Fil scratched his bloated belly. “You still alive and out of the cage?”

Dot glanced around the dusty shop and the piles of dismembered bio equipment. “Still going. Hit some sweet sunlight today. I won’t need to eat for at least a week.”

“Nice.” He measured some nutrients into a jar. “So, what brings one of the last dots to my corner of the undercity?”

“Naoki—” Dot began.

Sneering, Fil threw the measuring scoop onto the bench so hard that it bounced off onto the floor.

She continued, “—thinks he was backed up. Tell me it’s not possible, that it’s all shut down. Then he’ll be happy and I can go home.” It began to rain, making a clatter on the plastic roof of his workshop. “I need to get home.”

He glanced up and nodded, then down at her, his expression grim. “You can tell him that it’s not possible for anyone to be backed up anymore, but you’d be lying.”

“What?” Her guts froze.

“One of the Cadres up there…” he pointed “…came through with her uniforms and took everything that could be used to backup and copy people. Took enough to start the whole cloning process over again.”

“When?”

“A bit over three months ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged.

“I have to stop her,” Dot said, pacing the cluttered room.

“You can’t break your conditioning.” Fil folded his arms, watching her carefully. “You can only use violence in self-defense or against a designated enemy.”

“If I try hard enough I can, and you know it.”

He spat on the floor. “I don’t want to see anyone else go through what you’ve been through, honey, but don’t throw yourself away trying to stop a Cadre. Stay out of it.”

“What if Naoki really was backed up?”

“The stupid little straightass got what he deserved. Only taking female clients—serves him right. I hope she kills him and has a lovely little clone that’ll do anything she wants.”

“You are scum, Fil,” Dot said.

He spread his arms, revealing armpit stains on his undershirt. “Just like everything around me.”

The rain grew harder. “My bucket’ll be full,” she said. “I have to get home.”

He pointed at her and she recoiled from the insulting gesture. “And stop doing that, too. They don’t deserve it. Your special metabolism wasn’t designed to act as a water-purification plant.”

“They deserve to live. Everybody deserves to live,” she said, and went out.

The rain burnt her back and made the top of her head itch as she tried to stay away from the falls of water sliding between the gaps of the plate. The dome protected the overcity from the acid rain, but capillary action made the water fall from under the plate and drench the undercity.

When she arrived back at her pipe, a small group of tired undercity dwellers were waiting for her. They stood back and let her through, and when she was at the door to her pipe, she spoke.

“Come back in a couple of hours. I have to process it.”

They nodded and wandered off, some settling only a few meters away to wait.

Inside, she filled a large plastic bottle from the acid in the bucket, closed her eyes, and drank it all. Refilled the bottle and drank again, then again.

After the fourth bottle the water came out through the hole it had burnt in her throat and she stopped. She couldn’t stop a small moan of pain. Exactly twelve minutes later her throat had grown back enough to take another bottle.

After thirty minutes she stumbled to lie on the pallet, careful not to lean on her destroyed face and throat. She closed her eyes and let her body regrow and filter the water.

Two hours later she emerged to find an even larger group of undercity dwellers waiting for her. She held a barrel containing purified water. They lined up meekly, each of them holding a container, and she doled the water out to them.

The barrel was half gone when a group of uniforms arrived, making the people scatter. The leader of the uniforms stopped and held out an ID reader towards her. He wore a voice modulator that would make his voice the pitch that she was forced to obey. It would also automatically switch on her bodycam, but only Fil knew she’d made that modification.

“Seven-Dot-Three-Dot-Four-Dot-Six, identify,” he said.

“I am Seven-Dot-Three-Dot-Four-Dot-Six,” she replied.

He put the ID reader away. “You’re coming with us.”

Mrs. Kensington ducked past the two junior uniforms and pulled on the senior uniform’s arm. “You can’t take our Dot! We need her.”

He pushed her away. “I’ll return her. We just want to take her in to the station for a cup of tea.”

People emerged from the shadows, advancing menacingly on the uniforms, who saw the large group around them and began to look nervous.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t do anything that anybody will regret,” Dot said loudly. “Just go back to your houses, I’ll be here later to give you more water.”

She walked between the uniforms willingly, calmly. What the hell was this about? Her trip to the overcity to recharge? Naoki’s visit? Something else? A “cup of tea at the station” meant anything from a mild slap on the wrist through to permanently disappearing.

“They call you Dot?” the senior uniform said as they went up the elevator to the overcity.

“I help them out.”

“Listen.” He spoke with emphasis. “I worked my way up from the undercity, I know what you do for them down there. Without you dots, we would never have won the war. Damn, we’d all be speaking in English or Spanish or something.” He turned back to face the front of the elevator. “We’re taking you to see the Cadre, then we’ll drop you back where you came from. You deserve the right to live.”

She raised her chin. “But not in the sunlight.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “You can kill with a glance. Your sanity’s unreliable, and you know it. We can’t afford the risk.”

“But you’ll risk the undercity residents? You came from there.”

He didn’t reply.

They ushered her into a plush office with a painted mural of the mountains of Guangdong completely covering one wall. A pair of overstuffed armchairs flanked a small, laminated tea table. Cadre Zheng sat behind a massive desk made of real rosewood, a last remnant of the Tibetan forests.

“Comrade Noble Soldier.” Zheng ordered the uniforms to leave then gestured for Dot to sit opposite, across the desk and studied her. Dot studied her right back. Middle-aged, hair just touched with silver, but still stiff-backed and lean, with night-dark eyes.

“I checked your record,” the Cadre said. “You are regarded as one of the sanest dots ever produced and your actions since the war have borne that out. I was involved in the dot-creation program, and it warms my heart to see you integrated into the community.”

“But only in the undercity,” Dot said.

“You know why that is, Comrade Soldier. Your template lives her life up here, she has children, and now I believe she even has grandchildren. If they were to see you, they would recognize your… face, and it would cause them great emotional distress. You cannot live here. They cannot see you.”

“Is her family alive and happy?” Dot swallowed. Grandchildren. Something in her chest relaxed and grew warm.

“They are.” Zheng inclined her head. “They do not know that you exist. They do not know that she was a template. They would suffer greatly if they were to find out.”

“I know that.” The information that the girls were alive and happy was almost enough. Almost.

“I hear Naoki went to see you,” the Cadre said, one thin brow lifting. “Why?”

Ahhh. So this was about him. Well, maybe she could force the information from Zheng. “Naoki thinks he was backed up. He says you want him to have your baby and you’ve made a clone that’ll do it for you.” She stood and towered over the Cadre. “Tell me it isn’t true and I’ll go back to the undercity and not bother you.”

Zheng visibly sighed and walked around the desk. She barely came above Dot’s waist. “There’s more to it than me wanting him to a have a baby. That’s the least of it.” She gestured for Dot to sit again and leaned against the desk. “I really love him, you know?” Her face was full of honesty. “He lights up my life. He’s my companion, my sounding board, my support, my everything. I can’t live without him.”

“So you did back him up.”

“I really care for Naoki. Please respect that.”

“If you cared for him you wouldn’t back him up.”

Zheng looked away. “I’m a selfish, evil old woman.” She ran a hand over her face. “I did back him up, just in case, about three months ago. I think he knew, because he went out and overdosed on Z shortly after.”

Dot stared, uncomprehending.

“He died of the overdose, Soldier. The Naoki you know now is a clone.” She looked down. “I love him. I can’t live without him.”

Dot went completely calm. “And he doesn’t know.”

Zheng shook her head.

“And this is good enough for you? A poor copy?”

“Are you a poor copy?” Zheng asked.

“Yes,” Dot said.

“He isn’t.”

“He thinks he is. I agree. What you’ve done is illegal and against his wishes.” Her fingers curled into fists. “You’re trusting my conditioning here. What’s to say I haven’t broken it already?”

“If you want to take your revenge on me, I would understand,” Zheng said. “But Naoki doesn’t know. Let the clone live out his life with me, and make us both happy.” She leaned forward, sincere. “If you keep this quiet, I can give you anything. A place in the sunlight. A better life. Anything.”

Dot hesitated. It was a very appealing offer, but she didn’t belong in the overcity, especially now she knew the girls were alive. As long as she stayed in her place, the overcity dwellers left her alone.

“What I need,” Dot said, “is to be returned to my concrete pipe and my people, and for you to stop trying to kill me.”

Zheng eyed her. “Is that all?”

Dot nodded.

“Done.” Zheng pressed a button on her desk, and the uniforms returned. “Take her back to her home. On the way, stop and pick up a UV lamp and a water filter for her. The assassination attempts are to cease. That’s all.”

“Madam Comrade,” the senior uniform said.

Naoki entered her pipe through the open door. “I got your message. You okay, Dotti?”

Dot sat on the pallet and leaned on the wall, fingers interlaced behind her head. “I’m fine.”

“It’s not like you to leave your door open.”

“I think better with it open.”

He sat in the reading chair. This kimono was pink with tiny flowers embroidered in gold and silver thread; it appeared to be a genuine antique made of real silk. His heels were matching fabric. “I found what you wanted. Did you find out about me?”

“I found out about you.”

“Did she back me up?” His smooth-skinned hands twisted together in his lap. “She’s been looking strangely at me lately.”

“I checked with all the biosalvage people in the undercity. They know the people in the overcity as well.” She saw the hopeful look on his face. “All of that stuff was taken and destroyed a long time ago, Naoki.”

He collapsed slightly, and appeared smaller and more vulnerable. “She didn’t back me up? She won’t clone me?”

Dot hesitated for a long moment.

“Tell me she didn’t back me up!”

“She can’t have backed you up. No more clones of anybody can be grown. It’s not possible. You don’t have to worry.”

Naoki jumped to his feet and embraced her. “Thank you!” He stepped back, smiling. “You know it gets better? She asked me to marry her. She said she doesn’t care about kids unless I want to! It’s up to me!” He twirled and the kimono floated around him in a cloud of silk.

“You’ll make a great husband, Naoki.” She had to look away from his happiness.

“Thanks. Oh, I found out about those girls, too.” He flopped into the chair, pulled a reader out of his bag and waved it at her. “That story’s really sad.”

Dot sat upright. “What?”

“Yeah, I had to dig deep into the secure database. The information was really buried. So terrible, too. Not long after the war started, witnesses said the mother shouted something about…” he checked the reader “…hearing the voices in her head, seeing what they were doing. Seeing everything. Seeing death.” He glanced up. “Completely insane. Pulled out a gun—she was in the military—and killed the kids and their father, then killed herself. The kids were only in their early teens.”

“The girls are dead.” It wasn’t a question.

Naoki’s painted mouth drooped. “It’s not your fault what happened, Dotti. You said you saved their lives in the fighting, but you had no control over what their mother did.”

“They’re dead.” She rose, trembling. “Those little girls are dead, and I killed them.”

“Hey, steady,” Naoki said, standing and moving back.

“They’re not up there! They’re dead and they’re not up there!” She used her laser-cutter appendage to cut open the discolored patch of concrete floor, revealing a storage hole. From that she pulled out her helix gun and stared at it. “I killed them.”

“Where the hell did you get that?” Naoki yelled.

“This is all corrupt. Everything is corrupt,” Dot said. “All lies!”

“Dot, please—”

“I won’t lie anymore.” She threw off her robe and went into combat mode: ice-cold and emotionless. She released an appendage and used it to project the bodycam recording of her conversation with Cadre Zheng onto the wall.

Naoki watched, mesmerized, as his fiancée spoke about him. One hand covered his mouth and he gasped.

Dot snapped off the recording. “You’re a clone, honey. I lied.”

“I’m a clone?” His shattered eyes focused on her. “You lied?”

“We all lie. All of us. Everything is corruption, and rot, and lies. She backed you up against your wishes. She killed you.”

“But I love her,” Naoki said weakly.

“She made you to use you,” she said with venom. “Just like they made me to kill. You’re a body to make her the babies she can’t make herself.”

“No,” he said, staggering back. He wiped the back of his hand over his face. “This is what it feels like?”

“This is what it feels like. Your soul is a lie, your mind is false, and your body is a copy. Nothing about you is real.”

“I’m not real,” he whispered.

She checked the weapon’s energy cell: still full. She smiled grimly at Naoki and held the gun out to him. He took it, still dazed, and held it as if he couldn’t see it.

“You pull the trigger, and it all goes away. Everything goes away.” She backed up until her carapace pressed against the wall. “Use it on me, and then go up and use it on her.” Her eye fell on the bucket of acid rain. “Take the water and make her a cocktail to celebrate your engagement, first. None of us deserve to live.”

When he hesitated, Dot projected a looped image of Zheng repeating, Naoki is a clone… Naoki is a clone… Naoki is a clone.

A tear dug a channel in his smooth, white face paint. He picked up the acid bucket and pointed the gun’s muzzle at Dot.

“And then I’ll use it on myself,” he said.

Dot closed her eyes and pictured cherry blossoms on the grass.