Amid fields of wheat sat Gu Town, a dark ink blot on an otherwise golden landscape. It had been a woodland once and home to a myriad of birds and beasts. Now, all that was left of the trees were a palisade that penned the town in, and a wooden gate that was left wide open.
Standing before the wooden gates were two dusty travellers: one short and wearing a wide hood from which shells jingled; the other, a youth in grey. There were no townsfolk in sight.
“The gates are unguarded,” Old Ma said.
“Is that a bad thing?” Kaelon asked.
“Listen.”
Kaelon paused. “I don’t hear anything.”
“No, listen!”
The faint sound of shouting could be heard.
The old woman grabbed his sleeve. “Come but keep your eyes sharp.” She put on a constant smile, her eyes slitted. “Look pleasant and dumb, it will keep us both safe.”
“Uh?” Kaelon crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out to the side, pinching his thumb and pointer in preparation for the worst.
“Oh, you are good at this I think,” Old Ma remarked.
Kaelon couldn’t help but frown at her.
The streets ahead were compacted dirt, unlike Clearshade with its winding trails carved by the passage of feet, and they were empty. Yet, the sound of shouting grew louder. As they turned a street, they saw a crowd ahead. Brown-garbed with conical sun hats, the townsfolk craned to see over one another.
“Kaelon, what do you see in the town square?”
“A small group of unwashed people,” he answered.
Old Ma scowled at him.
It was at that point that the townsfolk nearest Kaelon noticed him. They took in the grey clothes and their faces paled. Stepping back, they bumped into others who turned to shout or raise their hand to slap until they too saw him. The crowd parted affording both he and Old Ma a direct view of the square: four burly men with their heads tied with a strip of black fabric surrounded a small boy whom they shoved. The men laughed cruelly as the boy sobbed, covering his head. His face was badly bruised. On the far side of the crowd, a drab-looking woman cried out as bystanders held her back.
“Liu’er! Liu’er!’ she called.
One of the boy’s assailants dangled an embroidered purse in the air. “Thought you could make off with a bit of coin, eh?”
Unnoticed, a woman stood on a rooftop wafting her face with a painted fan. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the purse, which matched the embroidery of her mustard yellow dress.
“It’s mine!” the boy cried.
Tucking the purse away, the man sneered. “Oh, is it now? Boys, show him what happens when you pilfer on the turf of the Black Rat Gang.”
Everyone watched as a skinny fellow with unkempt hair produced a rusted knife. With the now silent crowed bearing witness, he sliced the boy’s throat leaving him to fall to his knees.
The boy choked as his blood spurted across the pavers.
Animal blood is so red, Kaelon thought.
Old Ma let out a horrid wail as she rushed to the child. Her desperate attempts to staunch the flow coated her arms and hands in red.
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Kaelon slowly followed so as not to be left behind. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of their body odour. Citizens never smelled like that. It wasn’t possible.
When the men saw Old Ma, they laughed at her; when they saw the grey of Kaelon’s clothes, they blanched and fled. The crowd scattered with them. Instinctively running when others ran. It was a matter of self-preservation.
Some lingered and peered from behind others.
The child lay on his side, his eyes fearfully wide as his blood leaked in pulses.
No one held the screaming woman back, and she rushed to the child’s side. Sobbing, she pawed at his clothes.
Kaelon wasn’t sure what he should be doing. Bodies were usually taken care of by droids. What was he supposed to do? He looked down at Old Ma. She looked up at him, calling to him. Shaking himself out of a daze, he knelt by her side. The stench of blood brought a metallic taste to his mouth reminding him of home. It was oddly comforting.
“We must act quickly! You take the legs, I’ll take the arms.”
Kaelon shook his head. The data of his scan confirmed what the boy’s lack of movement made him suspect: he was on the verge of death. “It’s okay. Dead is not the end. He’ll serve well as clothes.”
The woman beside them let out a cry of anguish upon hearing his words, bowing over the boy as if to shield him from harm.
Old Ma’s mouth worked without sound, and she noticed how bloody her hands were in trying to stop the flow of blood. The red of failure. It seeped from between her fingers in weakening pulses. “No! It is not okay. This life is precious. A child. We must help!”
The look in her eyes somehow hurt Kaelon. He had never been looked at like that before. Vacant expression aside, those eyes brimmed with emotion. It both fascinated and horrified him.
The child spasmed weakly, tiny red bubbles forming at his lips.
Just like Reject Girl.
Kaelon wasn’t sure why he did it, he just did. He reached out and pressed his hand to the boy’s collarbone.
“Repair,” he commanded in his own language.
Old Ma wasn’t sure where to look in her confusion. Nothing was happening.
A small red prompt sprung up with an error ping sounding in his ears. Lines of light cascaded down the boy’s body—holographic projections that only Kaelon could see. It took seconds to complete the scan.
[Negative . . . Modifying alien flora & fauna is a breach of Regulation 4 Section 11 C Paragraph 9]
Kaelon pursed his lips. “Reclassify. This is a . . . droid. It’s broken. Initiate repair.”
The red prompt flashed again.
[Negative . . . Alien organic matter detected . . . Recommendation: dissection]
“It’s a . . . primitive droid?”
A few moments of silence passed. The two women were staring at Kaelon in bewilderment.
A chime sounded.
[Reclassification complete. Designation: droid . . . Commencing repair]
A grey goo began to secrete from Kaelon’s hand, latching onto the boy’s skin and clothes. Old Ma snatched her hand back, watching in fascination as it spread across the neck wound that had cut all the way to the windpipe. Grey tendrils began to draw the blood away from the ground leaving not even a drop to stain the fabric of the boy’s clothes.
A sharp inhalation made the woman jump, the child’s chest rising and dragging in air with a horrid sound. Even the bruising faded away like it never had been.
From her vantage point on the roof, the yellow-garbed woman stopped wafting her face. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised the grey substance. “Impossible,” she whispered, her delicate eyebrows rising.
It took only a moment for the grey goo to return to Kaelon’s body, and when it did, the boy’s flesh bore no evidence of either a scar or swelling.
Old Ma helped the boy sit up, steading him as he trembled. She looked at Kaelon with a complicated expression but said nothing.
The other woman lunged at the boy, sobbing as she held him. Rocking back and forth, the two began to wail.
On the roof, the woman snapped her fan shut. A cold expression on her face as she continued to study the scene before her. “Now, that is a neat little trick.”
Seeing that the boy was fine, Old Ma grabbed Kaelon by the arm and guided him away at a brisk walk.
“Ow, that hurts!” Kaelon complained.
“Quiet. Just walk and don’t look back.” Old Ma didn’t relent until they were out of sight and in a deserted alley. “What you just did . . . was it necromancy?”
“A what?”
“Is the boy dead but not dead?”
“No, he’s alive.”
“So, he’s not a living dead?”
“How can anyone be a living dead? That is preposterous.”
Old Ma took a deep breath. “Tell no one you have this ability – if others find out . . . promise me!”
“Alright! I promise.”
Scrutinising his face, Old Ma slowly nodded making her shells clink softly. “Very well. This thing you did,” she began. “It was a good thing. A kindness.”
Kaelon suddenly felt embarrassed and wasn’t sure why. He liked receiving this woman’s praise. Praise was rare in Sector 11. His old caretaker bot never praised him, it left him thinking that Old Ma was superior in some ways. He straightened a little.
“Let us speak of this no more,” she said. “It never happened.” Old Ma rubbed her forehead, trying to hide the tremble in her arm. “Come, I will take you with me to Doctor Dou. He will know what to do.”
As they walked away, Old Ma glanced at the rooftops suspiciously. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but it filled her with misgiving.