Page 21 of Skyn
The clinking of silverware against porcelain seems louder.
The other family members shift in their seats, eyes darting between the two brothers and finally resting on Ben’s mother.
“Fallon. You must be terrified. I hope you’re finding everything to your mine standards,” she says.
“Fawl.”
“That’s what I?—”
“No, you said ‘Fallon,’” I interrupt.
Ben’s mother is a chrome Amazon, six feet tall and shimmering with liquid-mercury accents on her reflective bosom. I cannot imagine getting milk from that bosom—only nails and rebar down the gullet.
“Ben,” she begins, voice dripping with refined venom, “I’ve taken the liberty of ensuring that you and…your…you and she are released from attending any more public events this season.”
“Is that so? I thank you for your forethought.” Ben leans back in his chair, his metal biceps stretching against the fine fabric of his sleeves. He glances at me for a brief moment.Permission? I’m stunned at the gesture, but I nod before turning my attention back to his mother. Ben continues. “However, my wife and I will be in attendance at the Innovation in Food Science Ball.”
Johanna’s eyes narrow, her fingers tightening around her water glass. “You will not.”
“We will,” Ben says simply. “Andthe end-of-year Council Gala.”
This, I think, sends the woman as far over the edge as a machine can possibly go.
Her disbelief is actually visible in her face. “You can’t be serious.”
Ben didn’t blink. “Deadly, Mother.”
His mother’s gaze turns lethal. She starts to fidget. “You know you simply can’t find good help these days. Ben, dear, could you call Lon?”
“You can make your own tea.”
Ben’s mother laughs. “Londria!”
A servant—lean and brittle, with skin the color of groundnuts, skin like the mine people—moves in hesitant steps, eyes cast down. She’s the only non-bot servant. She has freckles across her cheeks like constellations, and her hair is a rusty-red Afro with the kind of brittle, dry texture that tells you everything you need to know about her nutrition: protein deficient, malnourished. It’s common in the mines. I know it well. But her appearance isn’t what causes my breath to catch in my throat. It’s the fear. That deep animal fear.
Her eyes flick up, only for a second, meeting mine. There’s something dark in her gaze. She knows me, and I know her. We are the same. This, I think, is Ben’s mother’s point.
Chapter11
Birds…What the fuck?
“Ihave one hour and thirty-seven minutes of unassigned time,” Ben says, his voice so close and sudden. I jolt, nearly rolling off the bed. I sprawl out, starfish style, digesting the massive breakfast, feeling cocooned in the quiet safety of his walls. I wanted to go outside, to breathe real air, to see the sky, but the idea of all that open space presses in on me. Too big. Too much. I just want to find the basement and stay there.
“Go spend it doing calculations,” I mutter, burrowing deeper into the mattress.
“I want to teach you some aboveground protocol.”
“This is deeply amusing,” I say, flipping onto my side to face him. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, hands behind his back like he’s giving an official presentation. His presence is…imposing, even when he’s doing nothing at all. “I’ve spent my entire life studying the worldyouwere born into. If anything, I should be teaching youMineprotocol.” I spring up. “Let’s go find a tunnel!”
He doesn’t even blink. “You’re afraid to go outside.”
I scoff. “Afraidis a strong word. I just love your walls. They’re so straight. And your ceiling—so protective of my skull from falling objects.”
Ben tilts his head, considering. “Nothing falls from the sky but rain.”
“And you think that’s safe? Water from an unknown source dropping directly into your eye?” I narrow mine at him. “Do you know you can catch syphilis in the eye?”
His lip twitches, the tiniest movement. “You read that in the IS?”
