Tally arrives at my door, bright and early, once again. 

“Good morning, Aubrey! You look like 10 drowns! Oh wait, I mean 100 terodes. I forgot about the currency exchange.” Tally teases. “Are you ready to pick up your Roomba?”

Their smile shines bright as ever. I imagine this is what it would be like to have a doting older sibling. Inside jokes, morning adventures, and even matching outfits I notice. We both wear navy tunics, cinched with gold braided belts. But where I chose to wear matching leggings with my ankle high leather boots, Tally flaunts a pair of bubblegum pink trousers and platform heeled sneakers. So… almost matching.

“You hit another growth spurt last night?” I ask, practicing the informal speech I heard yesterday. I let them into the room. Tally walks in and grabs my red headband.

“First of all,” They spin to look over at me, or down at me, I suppose. The sneakers make them a good three inches taller than me now. “Good use of informal Deilic, don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

I shrug at their praise, but I can’t hide my smile.

Tally hands me my head band. “Second of all, you would look great in these shoes.”

Tally laughs at the horror on my face. 

I recover, “your earrings, on the other hand, are - um -” I switch to Staykar, “absolute curiosities.”

Tally models them melodramatically. Dangling from gold hooks, each 2”x3” canvas, framed in mahogany, portrays a painted portrait of Tally.

“They were hand painted by the artist I was trying to introduce to you.” Tally directs me to the door. “We can meet her this time. Not to brag, but she’s kind of obsessed with me.”

An hour later on the floating train, and we are back in the marketplace. It’s much busier today. I hold onto Tally’s wrist as they guide us through the crowd toward the back. 

Tally and I reach the little shop with my Roomba. The shopkeeper is there, waiting. He looks so happy. I feel so foolish.

I take out the agreed upon amount and exchange it for my souvenir. It’s wrapped up nicely in a protective fabric, a matt gray bow tying it up like a present. I accept the package, and place it in my backpack along with the receipt.

The shopkeeper hands me three business cards. “My client is very pleased with our exchange. They wanted you to have a few contacts who can probably fix that vacuum with original parts.”

“Oh,” I take the cards. “That was thoughtful.” Tally barely muffles a scoff, reminding me that I accidentally purchased a broken vacuum for 500 terodes.

I purse my lips and nod farewell. The shopkeeper waves, “come back anytime!”

I hold Tally’s wrist as they direct us to the painter. I feel Tally’s pulse quicken; their hands are sweaty. I pull Tally to a stop.

“Tally, is something wrong?” I ask in Staykar.

They look back at me, then at the artist, distracted. “Hm? No, everything is alright. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, you just..” I trail off. The artist waves at Tally. She’s an attractive woman in colorful, flowy clothes that make her look like a butterfly. She has a buzzed head and emerald lipstick. Tally waves back, moony eyed with a slack grin. I’ve never seen them make that face before. 

I press Tally for an explanation. “Your face looks relaxed, but your pulse and physical reaction indicate stress. Is this artist a difficult person to work with? She doesn’t look it.”

Tally snorts and tugs me along. “No, she’s…she’s lovely. Come on, let’s meet her.” Tally turns away from me. In that instant, everything happens in a flash.

Two hot metal needles pierce the nanoskin on the right side of my neck. I register an influx of electricity shooting through my spine. On instinct, I release Tally lest they be taken out by the same taser. I am certain I’ve been tased. 

Something inside my chest pops; I feel gears grind to a halt. My right lung shudders and begins to deflate. I want to scream for help, but my jaw goes slack and my limbs go limp. Systems failure. I can feel it.

I never hit the ground. I am scooped up and zipped up into a duffel bag quicker than my muddled mind can count. My right eye droops shut, but that doesn’t matter. Everything is dark. Exhaustion fills my human side while my other half goes from pinpricks to pure cold. I think I’m dying.

“Why is she so heavy?” I hear a voice. A tenor. Likely male. “She’s like… 5 feet tall!”

I’m 5’2”.

The bag jostles and I’m airborne shortly until my body slams into the hard floor. Doors slam shut. I’m losing consciousness. My left hand picks at the back of the zipper above me. A pinpoint of light.

The zipper opens. Everything is blurry. Everything sounds like I’m hearing it underwater.

A second voice speaks. “The whites of her eyes are yellow.”

Must be liver failure. 

“Shit.” It’s the first voice. “ Silverfish, If she dies, we’re dead.”

“Switch off the body cams.” I can’t tell who is speaking.

Everything goes black. 

Then everything goes red. 

My right eye snaps open. I’m being carried. One man carrying my feet, the second holding my wrists, walking backward. My captors are around the same height and weight. The man at my wrist wears a green/gray gas mask with a little silver star sticker on the right lens. The other is maskless. His face is plain and young with curly brown hair falling in his eyes. 

The dirt floor and cool, stale air indicate that we are underground. Industrial dock lights cast long shadows against the cement walls. 

My open eye rolls back and zooms in on our destination. A round door on the far wall, identical to the series of doors, rimmed in yellow plastic, lining the entire room. 

“Silverfish?” The first voice whispers; the man holding my legs. “What the hell is that?”

My mechanical eye whirs back to meet my captor’s. I see fear. Then I see his gun.

I’m not fully conscious, but I am hyper aware of danger. My objective is escape.

“Emergency Systems Activated.” The words leave my lips without my permission, and my body takes over.