Our family started where other families typically do not.
Inside a laboratory.
I did not have a name.
I did not have an age.
I did not have hobbies.
I woke as a shell—as a valuable member of the Nestor family.
I don’t remember feeling anything except the ice-cold graze of tiles under my bare toes. It was strange waking up inside a body I knew was mine and yet it also wasn’t. My throat was still raw from her screams, and my chest ached, my stomach trying to projectile into my throat. I sensed all of her panic, all of her pain—her fear. It burned inside me. But I was an empty shell incapable of feeling such emotion. I was not afraid like her. I did not panic. I was ready to follow my orders. At seven hours old, I was activated exactly three minutes before walking out under blinding light, and I still found it hard to balance myself with her lack of strength. She must have put up a fight for her body to be as weak as it was.
Her memories were fading, spiralling down a growing abyss in my mind, but I remembered splinters of her ending. I remembered the metal rod being forced inside her skull and the electroshocks rattling through her. The pain was still very much real inside me. It was raw and prickling, suppressed to the back of my mind. But I could not feel it. I could not feel her yearning for someone she had lost. Someone she desperately wanted back.
Other Me had a goal to find someone.
That was all I knew.
Unlike others, she was not dragged from her bed, or kidnapped on her way home from school. No. Other Me gave herself up.
“Step forward, Nestor family.”
The woman’s voice was gravelly through the intercom, and I found my body automatically following commands. I was not the only one. There were others next to me. Brother, Brother, and Sister. I was also Sister. Like me, they were freshly emptied bodies fashioned into perfection. We did not have names yet. Names were given out on dispatch. I had woken up as Sister. The electroshocks which had wracked my body and brain, hollowing my other self out and turning her into me, said I was Sister.
There were no other names.
If there were, I was to be disposed of immediately. If even a single splinter of a name appeared on my lips or I began to unravel, I was to be destroyed like other failures. They did exist. I wasn’t plastic or metal, I still had a human mind. I still had my senses—and in those first initial hours of my new life, I heard screams down the hallway from my room. Not all potentials could be subjugated and processed.
The ones who fought against programming were swiftly taken care of. Luckily, that did not happen. I was part of the Nestor family. I had a purpose.
My name was Sister.
Eighteen years old.
Eldest of the Nestor children.
Book smart but lacking in common sense. Stubborn. Kind hearted. I enjoyed watching television and getting to know my neighbours.
“Can you confirm your names, please?”
A bright light hit my face. I did not blink. I didn’t need to. Unlike my other self who hated how intense the light was, it did not faze me.
“Sister.” I said, staring forwards.
The others followed suite.
“Brother.” The two guys standing either side of me spoke in sync when the light hit them.
To my left, the young woman standing shoulder to shoulder with me had scorched hands and lacerations on her wrist.
My sister’s lip trembled slightly, curving into silent screams pulled from her lungs. Her old self was still lingering. She was fresh.
Not even an hour old.
“Sister.” Her voice was cracked and wrong, like it was being forced from her lips. If I had thoughts of my own, I might have suspected she was awake. But I wasn’t allowed to think or speculate. Once we had given our names and confirmed our model numbers, the four of us were tested.
Having already been equipped with the necessary abilities to carry out my orders, I was quick on my feet when told to turn to the left and the right. When I was shot at, my body reacted automatically, disarming the guard standing next to me and hitting the cardboard target. Risking a sharp glance to my left, I allowed myself to look at my siblings properly. But there was nothing of them to drink in. I was looking at empty and unblinking eyes focused on looming figures testing our reaction times.
If there ever had been something, it had been torn away hours before inside the room with the bleeping machines. We had an audience, along with the people in black testing our activation code. The word slipped inside my mind, easily slicing its way through my thoughts. Once said, my body was theirs, my thoughts puppeteered.
Standing in the middle was the only silhouette I recognised. I knew the man from her memories. I knew the cruel curve of his lips went he bent over her and forced the metal rod in further, revelling in her choked scream, the crunch of the end splitting her skull apart and sending her body writhing against velcro. The man was more shadow than human, his identity hidden in overexposed light. I did see what was pinched between his thumb and finger. It was a small device, a coil, or a spring. He didn’t explain what it was, but he didn’t need to.
I already knew what it was. It was the device buried inside our heads. If we failed to follow orders given, the device would be activated. It wasn’t much of a threat. You can’t threaten a mindless shell incapable of thoughts of their own. But you can stand triumphant, reminding them of their loss of humanity and thought. Their free will. Rolling the device between his thumb and finger, the man cleared his throat. “Nestor children,” he said, “Are you ready to meet Mother and Father?”
Before we could react, he took pleasure in saying our activation code one final time, bringing my already empty thoughts to a standstill.
Slowly, my mouth stretched into a smile which split my lips apart and I spoke in childlike glee.
Next to me, the others did the same.
“Mommy!”
…
“And I win again!”
“No fair! The sun was in my eyes! Tell him, Jane!”
“Ha! There is no sun!”
It was too cold to be playing baseball, but I wasn’t going to miss watching my siblings murdering each other over a stupid game. My brother’s arguing tore me from the newspaper I had been reading, sitting on the wooden steps leading into our yard. I had been reading about a poor kitty who had gotten itself stuck up a tree. Luckily, it was saved. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how scared the poor little thing must have been. It had rained the night before.
I usually enjoyed the rain. I liked to sit in bed after reading the daily newspaper and pampering my face. I was getting closer to becoming friends with Connor Aisling. We were at the talking stage, which was better than nothing. Though I had to admit my younger brother was closer to him. We had a bet. Whoever successfully brought Connor Aisling through our door had complete ownership of the family television for a month. Which was a huge deal.
All I could think about was the bet as I lifted my head, my gaze flashing across our yard where Peter stood, bat in hand. Johnny was pitching, and Jane sitting several feet away, her head buried in the latest classical novel to catch her eye. My sister was just like me. She never missed an opportunity to watch our brother’s daily baseball games.
I liked to join in usually, but it was far too cold. The ice-cold breeze had been blowing my hair back which was annoying. Mother did tell me not to mess it up. She made it clear I had to look my best for Connor Aisling. I had to wrap myself up in mother’s fluffy coat and a thick pink scarf to bear the brunt of fall bleeding into winter. It’s not like Peter and Johnny cared about the weather. Both sporting short sleeved shirts, they were bound to get a cold. I made a mental note to tell Mother.
At least Peter was wearing a baseball cap. I focused my attention on him, watching him miss the ball again—and in true Peter fashion, he was already stamping the ground and blaming his bad swing on the wind trying to snatch his hat. Peter was always the sibling I paid attention to the most and I wasn’t sure why. Looking at him, I was always searching for something which wasn’t…. there. But I felt like it was.
Like looking through a foggy mirror and trying to find a face. There was one thing bothering me. I didn’t remember Peter ever having glasses, but I could have sworn I had accompanied him to the Optometrist. Our town didn’t even have an Optometrist. Only a private doctor. However, I definitely had very faint memories of standing in front of Peter and waving around a pair of thick framed glasses. I remembered his scowl trying not to be a smile. Though my brother’s eyes were perfect. He had never had glasses or mentioned them. Huh. The thought didn’t stay with me for long. I shook it away with a chuckle, turning my attention to Jane, who had thrown down her book and jumped up and down when the edge of Peter’s bat finally sent the ball across the yard. Johnny’s mouth was slack for a moment, his eyes wide. Damn.
Peter never hit the ball.
The boys called it baseball, but there weren’t enough players to have a proper game. Instead, the two of them took turns pitching and then batting and running a lap around our yard.
Peter seemed baffled himself. He only snapped out of it when Jane cupped her mouth, laughing. “Run, you idiot!”
Peter threw himself into a sprint.
“He froze!” Johnny yelled. “Surely that counts for something, right? Come on, he never hits!”
I cupped my own mouth. My hands were ice cold. Wet. “Cut him some slack!”
Johnny twisted to me, his expression set in a mocking scowl. “Stay out of it, Wendy!”
I was on the edge of my seat. Literally. Johnny took the opportunity to dive for the ball before Peter could complete his lap. So yeah, it was kind of like baseball. Both of them were far too competitive however and ended up crashing into each other. I bit back a hiss. That looked painful. The two of them landed with twin “Oofs!” on grass thick with mildew. and I was giggling along with them, when footsteps on hardwood alerted me of Mother’s presence. I had already sensed her coming minutes before she set foot outside. But the game had taken my attention.
Jumping to my feet, I nodded at my mother. She wasn’t smiling as usual, her expression frozen into permanent impatience. She did smile, but it was rare. Mother only smiled when either of us reported getting closer to Connor Aisling. We had all worked hard to get to know the family. Mom gifted them casserole and freshly made pies, dad befriended Connor’s father through their mutual job, and my siblings and got close to him at school. In Mother’s hands was a casserole. The smell gathered in my nose and throat. It smelled wonderful. I did notice the sauce looked thicker than usual.
Was mother trying a new a recipe? I hoped so. “Wendy, darling,” Mom spoke in a soft breath.
“Did you invite Connor Aisling to dinner like I asked?”
I noticed her grip on the casserole dish tighten. Her hands were quivering a little. Mother’s hands never shook. “Connor Aisling is a Skin Walker, Honey. He must be dealt with accordingly.”
I nodded, my gaze on Jane’s ponytail being whipped around in the sharp breeze. “Yes, I invited him,” I said smoothly. “Connor said he cannot attend due to homework.” I turned to her with a grin. “I did ask to join, but he seemed rather content with being with his own company.”
Mother inclined her head. “Oh? Well, isn’t that fascinating, hm? The Aisling boy would rather do homework than try my casserole.”
“He will come tomorrow,” I murmured, spinning around and wrapping my arms around Mother. She smelled like strong cleaning product, and something I couldn’t quite name. It was a potent stink, easily snaking its way into my throat. “He must try your casserole. It is to die for.”
Mother’s lips twitched into the slightest of smiles, but her hands were visibly shaking now. Her entire body rattling, and I had no idea why.
“Of course.” She pushed me away gently, “Dinner is almost ready. Please tell your brothers and sister.”
Was Mother taking medication? I wondered. I didn’t think so. Maybe she was nervous or sick. But our family was never sick.
Nodding, I cupped my mouth with my hands—which were… wet.
Funny. It wasn’t raining yet. Looking into the sky, clouds were gathering thick and grey on the horizon. But no sign of rain.
“Dinner is ready!” I shouted to the others. And when they protested, I couldn’t resist a laugh.
“Darling, can you come and help me set the table?” Mother asked. She was already backing away, the smell of the casserole moving with her.
“Wendy!” Peter jumped to his feet, shoving the other two aside playfully. He held up his baseball cap, waving it. “It’s your turn!”
I sent Mother a helpless look, and I expected her to be strict. I expected her to order me inside. After all, it was my duty to help Mother set the table and prepare dinner. Instead, however, Mother stepped back with a smile which didn’t suit her. I had never seen her smile like that.
“Go and play, Becca,” she sighed, and her voice was dreamy, eyes unfocused. “I will do it myself. And yes, you can use the iPad.”
Her words struck me for a moment.
Becca.
That name sounded foreign.
Both of the words did.
Mother let us watch television before and after school. I wasn’t sure what the second word was. It sounded just as alien as “Becca”.
Mother had never said either of those words before.
The questioning, however, was gone before I could fully registerer it. I gave Mother an awkward hug before she headed back inside and hurried to catch up to the others. Peter passed me the bat, and I took my position on the marking the boys had made themselves with white paint. Taking slow steps back, Johnny’s lips curved into a smirk. “I thought you didn’t want to play?” He laughed. “Isn’t it too cold for you?”
I rolled my eyes, taking position.
Johnny cocked a brow. He mimed going in slow motion. “Oh, you’re cold? Do you want me to go as sloooooowww as possible?”
I lifted the bat like I was going to throw it at him, and he burst out laughing. Johnny’s laugh was like a hyena. Insufferable.
“Come on, Wendy!” Jane yelled.
“Miss!” Peter started chanting, hissing in protest when Jane shoved him. “Ow! Jesus, you’ve got pointy elbows.”
Johnny was grinning. I’m not sure what it was about his smug smile, but it only motivated me to actually try. Instead of playing casually, I situated myself into a proper position, digging my sneakers in the ground and tightening my grip on the bat. I was aware of Johnny pitching the ball and seeing it flying towards me.
But I didn’t move. Something inside me froze. And then… impact. Pain exploded, a neutron star collision going off in front of my eyes. I felt my body jolt from the pain before I hit the ground, first on my butt, and then dropping onto my back. My head was spinning, thoughts spiralling. A new pain had started up, crawling around the back of my skull. I could hear my siblings shouting my name, and I opened my mouth to say that I was okay, that I hadn’t broken any bones—when… colour. I can’t quite explain the sensation. One moment I was staring at a sky which I was used to. I was staring at the reality I believed in.
Birds flying across the sky, and trails of white clouds signalling airplanes—and then I was seeing colour. I was seeing the bright blue sky. I was seeing trees blossoming in fall beauty, smothered in rich browns and reds and dark greens. Blinking rapidly, I struggled to take in explosions of colour bleeding into my vision.
Colour.
I had never noticed I had been living in black and white until I was seeing colour.
It was enough to bring tears to my eyes and sliding down my cheeks.
But I wasn’t supposed to cry.
I never cried.
And yet… and yet my cheeks were wet and my lips tasted like salt.
I was half aware I was covering my nose and mouth where the pain was which had triggered mesmerising colour. My hands. When I stared at them, they were slick red. I could see my own blood for the first time running down my fingers and staining my palms. It dripped from my nose in rivulets, ruining the dress I didn’t know was pink.
I had never stopped to look at my dress. Or my pale blue sneakers, or locks of sandy coloured hair trickling in front of my face. Before I could fully understand and register what I was seeing, more pain blossomed, worst than before. It was enough to send me flopping back onto the ground, my teeth gritted around a screech clawing at my throat. I was frowning at an oddly shaped cloud before my surroundings seemed to bleed around me, vivid colours clashing together into one perceivable vicious noise inside my head.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for it all to disappear. Everything. The colour, the pain, everything. Instead though, I found myself in the back of a car. Like Father’s. But was a lot different. For one, the shadow in the front seat, the identity I couldn’t see, didn’t have to drive manually. Instead, the car seemed to do it for him. My head was pressed against the glass of the window and I was panting, my chest heaving. I couldn’t… breathe. I felt like I was choking, like there was no oxygen in the air. I was having a panic attack.
No.
Pain struck again, this time forcing me to remember who I was. What I was. Where I had come from.
The laboratory inside Markham facility.
Room 12.
The Nestor Family.
The body which used to think for herself and have free will. She was having a panic attack.
The girl who used to have this body—before I was activated.
“Please.” She spoke with a twisted tongue. My old self drew her head back, slamming her hands into the glass.
“Just… just let me go in there,” she whispered, “All I need to do is get to the backrooms. The labs. He’ll be in there.”
The figure in the front seat sighed. I glimpsed a bright red hoodie and dark hair pinned back by raybans. “Are you fucking crazy?” He twisted around to face her, his lips curled into a scowl. “No.” He prodded his seat with emphasis. “We wait until the barrier is down, and then we get out of here. The town is crawling with their people. The school isn’t safe anymore. They’ve thrown half of the faculty into Lydia.”
“Oh, sure.” Her tone was bitter. “Run away. That’s what you love to do.”
He scoffed. “Oh yeah, I am SO sorry for wanting to get away from this shit.”
I was startled, then, by emotions flooding inside her. Anger. Frustration. Pain. “What? So, you just want to leave him?!”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “It’s better than waiting to get taken. Have some perspective, yeah?”
“I’m sorry, Caine.”
The boy was quick to follow her. “What? Hey! [BLANK], stop!” He grabbed her, yanking her back. “You do realise if you go in there, you’re not fucking coming back out.” He spluttered out a laugh. “We lost half our classmates to them. Do you want to join them?”
She wasn’t giving up—and I don’t think she was thinking straight either. “I can get him out of there.”
The guy, or Caine, folded his arms. “[BLANK].” His tone softened. “He’s gone. They fabricated a tetanus shot and took half of the seniors in.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?” Caine took a step towards her, and then another. His words came out in globules of saliva hitting her face, his words twisting and turning her gut. “Do you want me to sugar-coat it, [BLANK]?”
“It’s not too late.” She said, “They took him… they took him yesterday. If I can get in there—“
“Oh, please.” He curled his lip. “I’d rather they threw him in Lydia.”
“[BLANK]?” A small voice, and other me twisted around to see a pair of fluffy slippers thump onto concrete. A little girl with dark hair and sleepy eyes blinked at them. “Are you fighting again?”
Caine rolled his eyes. “Why would we be fighting? We’re all fine here. Cotton candy and fucking rainbows.”
Other Me shoved him. “She’s five.” She said through her teeth.
Hurrying over to the little girl, my other self—the nameless shell shoved to the back of my head, took the little girl’s hands.
“Where are your gloves?”
The little girl’ lips pricked. The fairies took them!”
Despite the fear eating up her insides and twisting her inside out, my other self laughed. “Okay, I believe you,” she chuckled. And in a more serious tone, “Caine is going to look after you for a while, okay?” Sniffling, she tried to blink away the tears but they kept coming. “And I’m going to get your brother back. Do you understand me? I’m going to get your big brother back from the monsters, sweetie. I promise.”
Caine hissed out. “Wait. Since when I was a babysitter?”
My other self shot him a glare. “It’s just until I’m back. I’m sure you can deal with a five year old.”
“Really?” The little girl whispered, her eyes filling with hope. Her small hands trembled. “But Caine said my brother isn’t coming back.”
“Caine is being an idiot.” She said, and the girl giggled. “You’re going to be a good girl for him, okay?” Her tone was suddenly firm, and when the little girl wrapped her arms around her, she tightened her grip. “Ally, do you remember what I told you earlier? Repeat it back to me.”
Ally’s eyes widened. “If mommy and daddy or anyone from your school knock on the door, I have to stay extra, extra quiet.”
“Uh-huh. And Caine is going to be with you.” My old self nodded at the boy, who pulled a face. “Aren’t you?”
He blew a raspberry. “Like I’m going to abandon a five year old. Better yet, my best friend’s little sis.”
Ally shook her head, before whispering in her ear. “I don’t like Caine’s boo boo.”
My other selves’ gaze flashed to the bloody bandage wrapped around the boy’s head. No matter how many times he tried to hide it by pulling up his hood, it was always there, edges tinted with red and reminding me there was a way out. “Caine has a… he has a bad headache.”
Ally didn’t look convinced. She got closer, her eyes darkening. “Is Caine like mommy and daddy?”
“He’s okay,” My other self said breathlessly.
Ally nodded. “Is it all going to be over soon?”
My other self didn’t reply. Instead, she hugged Ally again, before letting the little girl climb into the backseat.
“You’re suicidal.” Caine said, climbing into the driver’s side. He saluted me with two fingers. “I’ll make sure to make awkward eye contact with you across the street when you’ve been assimilated into your new family and are a mindless shell of yourself wiped of all you were.”
She sent him the finger. “Well if I am going to be erased completely, yes. It was me who stole your GTA game.”
“I knew it!”
Watching him go, she made sure to smile until Caine was reversing away, headlights blinding her.
When she was alone, my other self turned and started to run, pushing herself into a sprint, her sneakers pounding against tarmac.
“Wendy!”
Jane’s frightened voice sliced into my thoughts, snapping me out of it. “Wendy, are you okay?”
My vision went fuzzy after that, the backdrop of an abandoned parking lot bleeding away, making way for blue sky.
No, black and white sky
Blue.
Black and white.
Blue.
Black and white.
It was like my perception was faltering. I thought the colours would leave, but they stayed, exploding once more, this time drenching my siblings looming over me, bringing them to life with the rest of the world.
I didn’t know Peter’s hair was red until right then. Johnny’s hair was more of a chestnut shade, while Jane was a blonde like me. Their faces startled me for the first time, especially when I took a moment to fully take them in. Their expressions were frozen, seemingly varying between three. Joyful, horrified, and content. They weren’t blinking either.
Everything about them seemed forced and robotic, from the way Peter reached out his hand for me to take, and Jane stroking her hands through my hair. Jane, her mane of gold locks hanging in my face, was grinning wildly despite her eyes wide with fear. There were scratch marks on her arms. The buttons on her dress collar had been ripped off. Peter’s fingernails were scarlet. There were stains down his shirt.
Johnny’s cheeks were smeared in varying shades of the same colour. But they weren’t the only ones. My hands weren’t just covered in fresh blood. They had been stained and tainted scarlet. The dress I adored was torn and splattered in greenish stains mixed with sharp red. Leaning forward, Johnny’s breath smelled rancid. “Helloooo?” He flicked my temple, and three colours suddenly flashed in vivid clarity in front of my eyes. Blue, Green and Yellow. I was looking at my siblings underneath a perfect blue sky.
I was seeing their faces. But I could sense something different. My hands strapped down in front of me. Something sharp and heavy was sticking into the back of my head, triggering my mouth to open and close—try and attempt to scream, and fail. “Again.” A woman’s voice slid into my brain, causing my body to jolt. I felt them.
I felt each and every electroshock rattling through me and scorching my hands. I felt each one tear apart my sanity and my will to live. To fight. To keep hold of my name.
I screamed until blood dripped from my nose and mouth. I screamed until I was so weak I couldn’t lift my head. But she kept going. Again and again and again AND AGAIN AND AGAINA AGAINAGAINAGAINAGAINAIUANAUIADHID.
I don’t know how long it had been before the word, “Sister” left my mouth filled with blood.
Men and women in white surrounding me nodded and helped me off of the bed. I was pushed towards a door.
My feet felt strange, grazing ice-cold tiles. I flinched at the feeling for a moment, before remembering I wasn’t allowed to flinch.
I wasn’t allowed to feel the cold.
I joined the others. Sister. Brother, and Brother.
“Are you ready to meet your mom and dad?”
We nodded. Peter, Johnny, Jane and me.
The man closed the gap between us, his mouth upturned into a sneer. “What happens if you fail an order?”
“Lydia.” We said.
“Good.”
“And what happens when you have obtained and disposed of the target?”
“Self-destruct, of course.” Peter’s smile didn’t waver. “You were quite clear. Once our mission is cleared, we are set to self-destruct.”
“Very good.”
Two figures emerged. My mother, a slim blonde wearing a fluffy sweater and jeans, and my father, broad shoulders and a warm smile. Mother held out her arms for a hug, and the four of us rushed into her. I caught the back of her head by accident. Where her hair should be was a bald patch—- my fingers grazing over warm wetness. Her body lurched in response, and her hands shook. Her breath came out in sharp pants against my neck. But she turned it into a laugh, a loud laugh which we all joined in with. And Mother tightened her grip on us.
The memory bled away once again, when Mother’s hand made impact with my cheek.
“Wendy Nestor.”
When I blinked rapidly, she was standing over me.
Mother was beautiful in colour. Her dark hair fell in waves, a bright yellow dress and matching apron. Just like the others, Mother was covered in red too. It painted her, and for the first time in a while, I was feeling… fear. “Get up,” she chastised. “You are being dramatic.”
Mother helped me to my feet, and my head spun. There was a voice in my head. Laughing.
“[BLANK}! What do you think you’re doing? Get up! It’s raining!”
The voice was a stranger, and I wondered why it made me cry.
“Well?” Mother’s arms were folded. “What happened?”
Johnny held up the baseball with a guilty smile. “Sorry, mother. We were playing and I hit her in the face.”
“Hit?”
Before I could stop her, mom was pressing two fingers to my temples, applying pressure.
I was seeing the colours again.
Mother pressed harder, and I had to bite back a scream. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” I lied.
“Open your eyes,” she ordered.
I did.
“Any colours? Flashing lights?” Her face pinched. “Are you seeing or hearing things that are not there?”
I gritted my teeth when the colours bathed her, turning her face into a confusing spot of yellow.
“No.”
She smiled widely. “Wonderful. You’re fine, sweetie.” Mom gestured to the others. “Alright. Wash up for dinner.”
Inside the kitchen there were a lot of things which didn’t make sense. Hollowed out bodies hanging from meat hooks. Something sour crept up my throat and I slapped myself in the forehead. Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why was I questioning this? I had been the one to help Mother. They were Skinwalkers we managed to lure to our home. The pain followed me burning hot in my head, as I struggled to take in blood spattered countertops and a casserole of bubbling intestines in a soup of blood and gravy.
Mom was humming, dancing around the kitchen. She put down seven plates on the table, and I stopped to count them. There was Jane, Peter, Johnny, Father, me and Mother.
So why seven plates? I watched Mother cut imaginary vegetables.
“My daughter,” she was saying in hisses of breath, bringing the blade of the knife down on the chopping board. She was trembling, trying to stabilise herself against the countertop. “I can’t… I can’t remember her name, but I know I have a daughter. I have… I have a sweet baby,” she was growing more and more hysterical, stabbing the blade into her hand instead. Mother didn’t even flinch. “She hasn’t seen me in a while. No, a long time. A long time. Oh, it’s been so long. Darling. Oh, sweetie, I miss you. Mommy misses you so… so much.”
Peter took his seat at the table.
“Mother, are we having casserole?”
She turned around, her grin wide, tears splashing down her cheeks. “Yes! Oh, yes! Casserole! Casserole for all my dear children!”
Father arrived after that.
“Hello, family,” He said cheerily, before setting his briefcase on the table and taking out his laptop. We all leaned forward in anticipation.
After dinner we always gave a report.
A redhaired woman appeared on the screen. She was scowling. “Disgraceful.” She spat. “I have reports of you butchering normal people, and as of an hour ago, Connor Aisling and his family murdered two people in broad daylight. Your programming must have malfunctioned. You have failed.”
“No.” Mom said in a hearty laugh. “No, give us another chance. We will get him.” She wrapped her arms around us. “Isn’t that right, kids?”
“Of course.” Johnny said.
“Anything for The Nestor Family!” Peter and Jane joined in.
My old self had seen the two of them. Before she was taken. I remembered the palm of her hands pressed against a glass screen. I remembered their eyes wide, their bodies rattling with electroshocks forced through them, eyes flickering, lips forming silent cries. I wondered why my old self was watching them. Why she felt agony and loss, unbridled despair. Blinking back the memory, I focused on the woman’s words. “No, I think it’s time to say goodbye.” The woman said with a sigh.
“It was a pleasure collaborating with you, Nestor family. We have thousands of other families about to be greenlit inside Markham. Unfortunately, you have become useless. It’s time for you to be deactivated.”
Mother and Father’s smiles remained, despite their panicked yells. “Wait!”
Her lips formed a merciless smile, curving around our self-destruct trigger.
Mother dropped first, an explosion in the back of her head.
Then Father.
Seeing Mother and Father self-destruct only brought more pain I shouldn’t have been able to feel, and accompanying that, a memory.
This time I was in a classroom. The desks were mostly empty, apart from a select few. Caine was at the front, standing on a chair. “Whoever these people are, they’re in our town!” He yelled. “They’re taking us, our moms and dads, our brother’s and sister’s. Even our grandparents.”
“And what we are supposed to do?” A girl leaned forward on her desk, her eyes raw from crying. “What the fuck are we supposed to do, Caine?”
“And who put you in charge, anyway?” A voice yelled from the back.
“It’s a nuclear family factory! Come on, what are you guys not seeing? It’s right in front of us!” A boy in front of jumped up, laughing. His identity was swamped in sunlight, but I could make out a shock of reddish curls poking from his hood. Other Me jumped up from her own chair and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him back down. He stumbled, awkwardly slamming back into his seat and almost toppling over.
“Hey.” Other Me hissed. “Are you high?”
He spluttered. “Pfft. No. Of course not. Come on, [BLANK]. Do you really think I’d smoke at a time like this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. This is the perfect time to try and hide away from reality, and you know you can’t do that.”
When he didn’t respond, she grabbed his sleeve, tugging it. “Ally? She needs her big brother.”
“Control your boyfriend.” Caine said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, since we’re the only ones left… I figured I should share intel. We can’t trust phones, or anything technological. Just ourselves.”
“Come on, Caine,” Other Me said. “Give us something here. How long until they realise we’re here?”
“The town is being emptied.” The guy in front of me said, in a more serious tone. “Anyone they want is taken in, while the rest…”
“Lydia.” They all said at the same time.
Caine cleared his throat. “Well. I can’t say anything for beating them, but I know how to get out the self-destruct.”
“Wait, for real? You got that thing out?” Some boy let out an incredulous laugh, and she resisted against a hiss.
Roman’s laugh drove her crazy.
Like a fucking hyena, she thought.
Caine held up a drill. “From what I know, this thing is like… a root. A digital root they put inside our head—- which they program. But…”
He pointed to his own head. “I got it out.”
A girl shrieked. “Wait. They took you?”
He nodded. “Before they start their programming shit, I managed to get it out before it could cause real damage.”
He held up a stringy piece of metal, a coil.
“This is the O27. When inserted, it acts as a detonator.”
He stuck the drill into his temple. “Drill until you hit something springy. It’s not that deep. Plunge your fingers in and pull it out.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it will bring you back. It’s a pretty permanent process. But it will remove the bomb they’ve put inside your head.”
“What do you mean permanent?”
“I mean mind altering permanent.” Caine got closer—- and the boy in front of me turned around, his identity finally bleeding into view
I recognised him. His lips formed a smile.
Peter.
“Well, shit,” he shot me a teasing grin. “Let’s hope we don’t get taken, yeah?”
…
…
…
“Let’s hope we don’t get taken, yeah?”
His voice was in my head, at the exact time my gaze flashed to Peter. I didn’t feel anything for him. He was nothing to me. But in splinters of my memory, he had existed in her life. Meant something to the mind wiped from me. The woman was still displayed on the laptop smiling widely, after witnessing the death of Mother and Father. “I’ll give the Nestor siblings a little longer,” she said with a light laugh. “You are children, after all. Let’s call it mercy.”
The laptop exploded. Peter’s voice echoed in my ear, as my brain started to boil. Something ran from my nose. But I was too busy looking next to me. The same face in the classroom. Caine’s best friend. Who Other Me had risked her life to save. “Let’s not get taken, yeah?” Jane and Johnny stood frozen, their expressions slack. Mindless. When I nudged Peter, he didn’t move. His eyes were still glued to the laptop. His voice wouldn’t stop. His old voice.
I’m sure you know what I did next.
I did exactly what Caine had told me to do, regardless of it sounding ridiculous.
I grabbed a rag and bit into it, pressed as much pressure as possible, and drilled until I was screaming into the gag, until blood was running down my face and neck, crying against waves of pain slamming into me—until it hit something. I felt the weight of it. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped my fingers around it and yanked as hard as I could until my fingers were bloody, and a coil of metal, the ends flashing red, was in my fist. It was only when I had managed to remove the O27 from Peter and Jane, did I pick up a low beeping noise.
A countdown, I thought. They were getting rid of us, and then every trace we existed.
A mechanical voice spoke inside my head.
58.
57.
56.
The voice was counting down from 20 by the time I was dragging them, Johnny over my shoulder, and Peter and Jane stumbling in my arms. When my feet touched grass, a blast threw me to the ground, and once my face was buried in dirt and mildew, I was laughing until I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was dying, blood seeping from my head, my thoughts dizzy. But for the first time in so long I was able to laugh for myself.
Think for myself.
And with my siblings next to me, I felt content. Peter, faced down in the grass. Jane, her body twisted like a pretzel, and Johnny, laying on his back, unblinking eyes on the sky. I only needed them to be okay again.
Three days later, I am alone.
They are not waking up.
I am alone and its not fair!
Makeshift bandages are working, but we really need a hospital.
Whoever Caine is, he was wrong— or at least, he was wrong about some things. Removing the O27 does not bring us back. It just removes initial programming.
But everything that came after, when we were strapped to a chair and forced to forget our names, our lives— that is permanent. Jane, Johnny, and Peter are brain dead. Without commands, or that thing inside them, they’re nothing. They’re just here. With me. Which makes me wonder: Why am I aware? What happened to me which didn’t happen to them?
There are things I need to talk about. Like my brother having the same face as someone who meant a lot to Other Me. But Peter, or whoever he used to be, is a shell. He and the others are forever awaiting orders. Perfect nuclear children who have reverted back to human— without their humanity. I’ve tried to bring them back. I keep chipping away at them, but I’m scared the deeper I get, I’m causing more damage than good.
My siblings and I are currently in hiding. We can’t leave the neighbourhood yet. There are guards stationed outside the barriers. Yesterday, they relocated a new family in the house next to ours. They are called The Wilder’s. The son looks familiar, but maybe I’m overthinking. I hope the others wake up soon. I don’t know if I can keep dragging them around like this. Is there even any point? Why should I carry around dead weight?
I can see colours again. I still don’t know my name, but it’ll come. I know it will.
And the others will wake up too!
I keep writing it, and it thrills me to know that we got away. We are alive.
THE NESTOR FAMILY ARE AWAKE.
…
Another thing I should mention: The Wilder son keeps catching my eye while I’m scavenging for supplies.
I wonder if he’s awake.