Page 19 of The Fall

She showered and set her hormone regulator to rouse her at 08:00 the next morning before pulling back the thin blanket. Muted neon colours drifting across her ceiling from the lights outside, sleep refused to come.

Kerr sighed and reached blindly for the knife on the shelf beside her bed. The one that had severed her distal tendon and Osborne ligament before she’d even felt it. She’d gone through the footage from her Opti over and over again without ever seeing it leave her fingers – only that dance.

The practiced grace, like a wicked ritual. The way her body flowed like she had been built and honed her entire life for that singular movement. Like watching a predator kill – terrifying, but impossible to look away. Impossible not to admire its perfect design before it devours your entrails.

Recovered from the scene later, the blade could belong to no-one else. Kerr ran ceramic composite fingers across its dark edge. A simple, high-carbon steel – made to keep a fine edge, but requiring regular maintenance. Who chose something like that? Something that needed countless hours of training when any fool could aim in your general direction and shoot, letting the SmartCartridge do the rest?

What a waste of time.

Kerr held the knife flat against her sternum, breathing deeply, like she could inhale its energy. Squeezing, her fingers coiled tightly around its hilt. If she ever saw her again, she’d bury this knife in her heart.

Love All, Trust Few

Wanna try my new batch?” Cam flashed a bashful smile. Like Lusa, he couldn’t use the Lake’s DocPod, but Jenni’s lab had managed to make testosterone. Uncle Cam had never been happier.

After the incident with Danica, Lusa was always guarded around him. But Cam, unlike Alana, had dismissed it as young love. He persisted in his discomforting friendliness that she could never force herself to trust. She deserved to be hated.

“Sure,” Lusa said. Not rude, but not enthusiastic either.

Cam did not get the hint and he poured a generous pint of amber-coloured ale.

Lusa took a sip. Bready, with a minty bitterness and a clean finish. Quite good, actually, but she couldn’t force her mouth to praise it. She nodded instead. “Thanks.”

Cam beamed and lowered his head to hide the redness in his face. The testosterone had given him a slight stubble, though his face was still round. Even Lusa’s was more square than his. She was taller and more muscular too. She wondered if that bothered him. If seeing Sparx transition on a whim because she could use the DocPod and he couldn’t, bothered him. If she hadn’t been such a stubborn arse all these years, she could ask, but she didn’t have that kind of relationship with him. She was bad at relationships.

“Hey.”

Lusa turned toward the sound. Maya half-waved awkwardly – the sort you do when you like someone but you don’t want to make it look like you’re too excited to see them. As a result, it makes it even more obvious that you like them. That and the immaculately tousled chestnut hair, fresh makeup and low-cut blouse. This had been planned.

Lusa smiled politely, and did a mental check-in. Was she up for a quick fuck? She had to get up early tomorrow and didn’t need the hassle of kicking Maya out, but she could maybe do something after. She allowed her eyes to rake over Maya. She was pretty, but had never shown interest in anyone but trader boys. “Hey.”

“Can I sit?” Maya started toward the chair across from Lusa.

“Yeah, sure.” She shifted and pulled the table closer.

Cam appeared out of nowhere and presented a second pint for Maya.

“Oh!” Maya smiled wide. “Thank you!”

Cam winked at Lusa. “Thank her, she’s paying for it.”

Her face radiating, Maya turned toward Lusa, who now couldn’t help but blush. Why was Cam doing this to her?

Oblivious to it all, Maya started up the conversation. “You’re the one who’s always on the training course, right?” She stared, rapt, as if she didn’t already know the answer. She wouldn’t be the first girl to gawk at Lusa’s arms. Usually she kept them covered up, but on the training course, they would be on full display.

“Yeah, I guess.” Lusa leaned back in her chair. “Did you want me to show you the run?” She knew Maya didn’t care about the run. She wanted Lusa alone, so she would say

“Yes!” Right on cue.

The girls, even the straight ones would occasionally seek her out for a release. Asking for it was always a dance. Sometimes they pulled her away immediately. Sometimes they played coy for a bit longer. There would be a half-serious attempt at throwing knives and occasionally, a fall off the balance beam so Lusa could rush in and catch them. There would be snogging and a suggestion to go back to someone’s MobilePod. They never reciprocated, which was fine by her. They loved her arms and her height, but being touched anywhere else by a woman who felt obligated gave Lusa the ick. There would be no illusion of attachments.

Because that meant feelings and those sorts of feelings led to Lusa losing control. And Lusa could never lose control again.

Lusa left later than she should have, but she went home alone. She’d lied and said she was on her period. Maya’s kiss-swollen lips told her she didn’t mind, but she understood and there was a vague promise to maybe do this again.

She took care of herself with a small vibrator. Sparx had snuck it back for her since she’d been banned from going to Tyton. At first, she’d been mortified and refused to look at it for six months. Curiosity, or more accurately need had won out after she ran across Chelsea and Anna in the greenhouse. The consequences of an entire generation of isolated, nanite-free girls hitting maturity while waiting to find virus-free males probably hadn’t been considered by her moms. Or if they had, they definitely weren’t part of the initial conversations with the other ghosts.

“Pinga.” Lusa banged on the door of Pinga’s MobilePod. There was no answer. Lusa looked around. In the greenhouse, Grandma Cat dug potatoes with her four younger sisters. Panik and Kuak squealed like demons, tearing up hunks of black soil in the morning damp. Ila and Amka were old enough to gather potatoes without causing quite as much of a ruckus. Lusa discreetly slipped a bobby pin from her hair.