Page 4 of Ezra
I take a step forward, intent on following them and helping how I can. My mother grabs my arm. “Kat, no.”
“Don’t worry. Keep going.” I ignore Dad’s demands for my return and push through the sea of bodies. I catch a glimpse of pale blue ruffles of a woman’s evening gown, splattered similarly with blood. But she’s not a normal woman. When she turns her head, I see the familiar glow of white bionic eyes.
She’s an android. Normally, android owners stay far away from our protests, and for good reason. Tempers are high. It can be dangerous. While I would never damage a robot myself, I can’t speak for everyone else around me. Did someone use the chaos of the event to try to steal her?
That’s when I spot them. Several men guide her away from the protest, but they don’t appear to be with us. Though the android female is compliant, the masses seem to be making them nervous.
The young Humanity First demonstrators who spoke with the injured man surge toward them in dogged pursuit. At first, I’m worried they mean to tear the female android apart.
“Wait, don’t!” I shout, though it’s no use. Over the angry chants of the protest, my voice is drowned out.
But they’re not hurting her. Instead, they descend upon the men who have their hands latched to her wrists, guiding her through the crowd. That’s when I see it—the vibrant white irises of the androids holding her, along with one human. Rage overcomes everyone in the vicinity when faced with these robots, and all my hopes for a peaceful protest are already dashed as the androids are beaten down. The android handler curses and shouts and furiously attempts to fight through them, trying to reach the female they’ve taken as he and his robots are hit.
I need to get her out of here. She’s only doing whatever she’s programmed to do, and I strongly believe we can’t take out our frustrations on androids. I know I couldn’t stomach it if I saw her attacked. I try to push my way toward her, but the crowd is closing up around me. I can’t make it through.
Witnessing glimpses of this madness, I hear bones crunch and break. The androids aren’t simply lying there taking it. They’re hitting back. A wave of nausea hits me. Those bodies are made of pure steel. They shouldn’t be able to do that. Theirprogramming is meant to render them incapable of violence because they’d be deadly otherwise.
BioNex wouldn’t?—
Through the curses, the shouts, everything, the restrained handler screams to the android males, “Ascend! Do it! Do it now!”
Having kicked, punched, and pushed away our protestors, forcing them back, one of the androids plants his feet apart. He stares across the street—at what, I can’t say. His black exoskeleton glows eerily beneath his synthetic skin.
In the distance, someone shouts, “Bomb! Bomb! Get out of the wa?—”
I freeze.No.
The world around me shatters.
Glass, pavement, and metal fly through the air, accompanied by a deafening roar. The blast throws me backward into the street. I hit the cement like a ragdoll. My bones rattle, and my body pulses in waves of sharp pain. My ringing ears tune out everything around me. In a daze, I see only dust and blood. Warmth and wetness trickle down my face where I’ve been cut by debris.
That android detonated himself. He blew himself up. What is happening?
Past that constant ringing, faint and far away, horrified screams cut through my consciousness. I stare blankly upward, incapable of processing what’s happening around me. When I turn my head, my vision swims with bodies. They lay motionless, some intact, others torn apart with missing limbs, their clothes shredded by shrapnel. The street beneath them is steeped in blood.
Some demonstrators stand still, stunned by what they’ve seen, smartphones out. Others run, fleeing in panicked droves.
But as my gaze drifts down the road, most people are rushing forward. The police, clad in riot gear, cast aside their holo-shields, boots pounding against the street. My head pulses as I watch several of them jump the remaining android and his handler. One of them grabs the male robot by his throat. But he doesn’t fight. Instead, he powers down instantly.
The only android remaining is the female, standing among the carnage, looking eerily like an angel in her periwinkle evening gown with her neutral expression and gaze turned forward.
Where are my parents?
I try to push myself up, but my limbs are weak and shaking. I can barely manage to lift my head. Pain stabs at my temples. I groan, trying to shake myself awake, but the stupor won’t leave me.
A pair of powerful arms gently hooks beneath my shoulders and pulls me upward. “You’re injured.” The deep voice in my ear is faint beneath the ringing. His words are almost gruff, but there’s an unmistakable gentleness behind them. “Let’s get you out of the street. My scans indicate you may have suffered a concussion.”
There are so many injured people in the street. Dozens.
My stomach churns, bile in my throat. “He killed them,” I whisper.
My rescuer sets me to rest against a nearby lamp post. “Don’t look,” he replies. “I want you to focus on your shoes. Try to stay awake.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s all right. Just tell me your name.”
My name. What’s my name?
