Aubrey Ryelle sat in her physics class absentmindedly chewing the corner of her pencil. Her glazed eyes stared out the nearby window at a pair of squirrels warring over half an abandoned sandwich in the grass.
At the front of the classroomMr. Gardner lectured in his usual monotone rasp. He was an odd looking man, his thick glasses magnified his eyes to comical proportions. He had grown a thin pencil mustache in an attempt to distract from his round, short torso that perched atop two thin legs.
Aubrey, only ten years old, was three years younger than her classmates, having already skipped two full grades despite Westwood being a school for the gifted. She had always thought her teacher looked a bit like an owl perched on a pair of chopsticks, an image she couldn’t shake during his endless droning.
“We are coming near the end of our third trimester, so I have high expectations – in particular of this group. This is the advanced class, people, so I won't be coddling you. Now, who can tell me the proper equation to find velocity by acceleration?”
No one moved.
“Anyone?” Mr. Gardner looked across the room with misplaced optimism. His eyes fell on Aubrey and disdain creased his eyes.
“Aubrey, since you appear so interested in what's going on, could you please answer the question?”
She blushed and stuttered and withered under his glare.
“No,” she said, barely above a whisper.
Grinning like a shark, he pressed further, “I see. Since you don't feel the need to pay attention in my class, then maybe you can answer this; what is the proper equation for finding the potential energy from gravity between two objects?”
Aubrey’s eyes stayed glued to her desk. “The potential energy from gravity between two objects is equal to the negative universal gravitation constant times the mass of the first object, times the mass of the second object all divided by the distance between the objects squared.”
Mr. Gardner’s mouth pinched tight as the her classmates turned and stared. Her cheeks burned. She hated this; hated being the center of attention.
“Well, we all get lucky sometimes,” Mr. Gardner made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice. He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the bell. Glancing at his watch, he stepped behind his desk and pulled out a stack of graded tests.
“Please stop by and pick up your midterms on your way out.”
Aubrey stepped into the line of disinterested students as they shuffled past Mr. Gardner’s desk. As she approached, he handed her a paper, a large scarlet F painted across it.
An F? She had failed?
“I’m sorry, is this… is this my grade?”
“Yes,” Mr. Gardner replied without looking up.
She flipped through the pages of her exam. “But, none of the answers are wrong”.
“That’s true, but you didn’t show your work. You’re lucky I didn’t have you expelled you for cheating.”
“But I didn’t cheat!”
“How else could you have gotten the answers?” he asked, removing his thick glasses.
“I did them in my head.”
He snorted. “That’s not possible. Even I can’t solve differential equations in my head.”
“So you’re failing me because I’m smarter than you?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously as she slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror.
After a lengthy meeting with the Principal and her mother, Amanda, and an interminable lecture on the car ride home, Aubrey felt relieved to at last be alone in her room.
She didn’t necessarily hate school, but she didn’t thrive there either. Nothing seemed particularly challenging, and while her mother had explained she was very lucky to be so gifted, that wasn’t of much comfort as she ate lunch alone each day. Her older classmates saw her as some kind of freak, and her teachers treated her with varying degrees of contempt.
She threw herself onto her bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. Her curly golden hair reached almost to the floor as she ran her tongue along the scar on her top lip, a habit she’d had since she was a toddler and had fallen face first off of a doll stroller and onto the unforgiving checkered tiling of the kitchen floor.
It had been the first of many trips to the emergency room to get stitches. She still remembered being fascinated by the fish hook needle as she watched the procedure in the reflection of her doctor’s glasses.
She heard a soft knock at her door.
“Yeah?”
The door groaned as her mother opened it. Well into her forties, Amanda looked nothing like her daughter. Black hair cascaded past her pale cheeks. She watched Aubrey for a moment, sadness rumpled her hazel eyes as she picked at the streaks of paint that ran along her fingers.
Her husband had been gone for three years now, but Aubrey could sense his absence still stung every time her mother’s gaze lingered on Aubrey’s face. She had his long nose and bright blue eyes.
Her smile was the same smile that had melted Amanda all those years ago when they had met at one of her gallery shows, and she had insisted he cook her dinner.
Amanda gingerly sat down on the bed next to Aubrey. Opening her mouth, she hesitated to speak. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“No matter what?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Amanda ran her fingers through Aubrey’s twining golden locks. Aubrey shifted away from her mom’s touch, feigning a sore back. She didn’t have the heart to tell her mom whenever she played with her hair, it reminded her of the night her father had died.
Her mother had stayed up all night sobbing, holding Aubrey, stroking her hair. It had terrified her, to see her mother so broken. She was only seven, and didn’t really understand what had happened. She just knew she’d never see her dad again.
Amanda sighed and stood, stretching her legs. “Well, I should probably get started on dinner. You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“You need to eat. I’ll make your favorite.”
Aubrey shrugged. “Yeah, alright”.
“That’s my girl.”
Her mother shut the door as she left, leaving Aubrey to her thoughts.
#
Later that evening, after stuffing her face with pasta, Aubrey sat slack on the couch playing video games. Her sister, Sarah, two years younger, sat next to her, kicking a couch cushion she had pushed to the floor.
The living room was lined with her mother’s paintings and photographs, abstract pieces that Aubrey had never particularly cared for, but which were apparently in high demand.
“When’s it my turn?” Sarah whined.
“Can’t you go do something else,” Aubrey shot back without looking away from the TV.
“Mom, Aubrey won’t share!”
“Aubrey, be nice to your sister,” her mother called out from the next room.
Sarah smirked like the devil. This was the game they always played. Her sister didn’t want to play video games, she just knew that Aubrey did and derived great pleasure from denying her older sister any sort of gratification.
Rolling her eyes, Aubrey passed the controller and made her way up the staircase towards her bedroom. Boredom seized her, as it did most evenings. And mornings. And afternoons.
She stopped in the hallway and yawned, stretching her back which popped. Looking up, she noticed the string hanging from the ceiling which attached to the attic door. Might be something interesting up there. It was worth a look anyway.
She had to jump several times before she caught it. The momentum of her jump yanked the door down so hard she had to duck to avoid being cracked in the forehead by the dusty wooden ladder that unfolded.
She poked her head up into the darkened stale room, wishing she had brought a flashlight. She pressed on anyway, feeling her way across the narrow space, stepping over the gaps in the floor that brimmed with pink insulation, hunched to avoid hitting her head on the dry cross beams.
Her big toe slammed into something large and heavy. Falling forward, she managed to catch herself on an old suitcase, narrowly avoiding sending an arm through the ceiling into her mother’s bedroom.
Rolling over, she spotted a large wooden trunk with the initials D.J.R. carved just above the central latch. After rubbing her throbbing foot, she carefully brushed the dust from the crate and snapped the rusty latch open.
Inside, she found a stack of small, well-worn notebooks, and a shoebox full of old photographs. Pictures of her father.
Slamming the lid shut, she carefully pulled the trunk to opening that led to the ladder.
Once in the narrow shaft of light from the hallway below, she sifted through her treasures; photos of her father and his journals, filled with thoughts, sketches of men with strange wings, and nonsensical poems that may have been song lyrics.
Her brow furrowed. Why hadn’t her mother shared this with her?
Digging deeper into the trunk, past his old Boy Scout uniform and a worn copy of Slaughterhouse Five, she felt a sharp metal box. She excavated it from the mess; a plain-looking charcoal cube, smooth to the touch, with no apparent openings. On the top (or what she assumed was the top) a single word was stamped into the silky metal.
Microtech.
She ran her hand through her hair, pulling it out of her eyes. Turning the box in her hands, she shook it. No sound, but the box had some serious heft to it. She ran her fingers across the logo, and as she did, she began to feel subtle vibrations from within, almost like gears or wheels turning.
“Aubrey, what are you doing up there?” her mother called.
“Nothing. Just bored.”
“Well come down, I don’t like you being up there. It’s dangerous.”
Glancing down at the box, she licked her lips.
“Hey, Ma? I’m hungry.”
“You just ate like an hour ago.”
“I know, I’m still hungry though.”
“So eat something.”
“Would you make me something?”
“I don’t know, Aubrey, I just finished cleaning up the kitchen, and I’ve got to get some work done in the dark room.”
“Pllleeeeeaaaaase,” she intoned, using the voice she knew her mother hated.
Her mother sighed before muttering to herself about her ungrateful children and angry clients as she headed down the stairs.
Aubrey quickly shut the trunk, sliding it back into the dusty outline where it had sat for years. Pausing at the ladder, she poked her head down to make sure the coast was clear. Tucking the box under her arm, she scampered down, shutting the attic door louder than she had intended.
“AUBREY!” her mother shouted from the kitchen.
“SORRY, MOM!” she yelled back before slinking off to her room.
She cautiously shut the door behind her. Her mother would be expecting her downstairs.
She slid the metal box into a tear in the box spring underneath her mattress, her treasure trove where she stashed the various objects she didn’t want her parents or siblings to know about. Books her mother wouldn’t approve of, candy Sarah might swipe. And now, a mysterious object that once belonged to her father.
Quickly smoothing her bed and satisfied that the device was sufficiently camouflaged, she bounded down the stairs.
She ate in a flurry, her mother watching in abject horror as food disappeared at an upsetting pace.
“Everything okay?”
Aubrey nodded and grinned as she shoveled more of the cheese, crackers, and pickles her mother had assembled. Cleaning her plate in record time, she almost broke a glass in her haste as she rinsed the dishes and put them in the sink before kissing her mom on the cheek.
“Thanks!” she shouted over her shoulder as she dashed back to her room.
Shutting the door, she pressed the lock that she had insisted be installed for her last birthday, a desperate measure to keep her sister from snooping.
She retrieved her treasure from its hiding spot and set it on the floor as she sat down.
For several minutes she stared at the box. She retrieved her laptop from her desk and searched for information on Microtech. There wasn’t much.
Microtech appeared to be a relatively small computer hardware manufacturer, founded on September 13th, 1992 by someone named Thomas Cramer. Their website looked ancient and crude. Internet searches for Microtech black box, or any variations she could think of, were fruitless.
Shutting her laptop, she turned her attention back to the box. She again ran her fingers over the logo, and again felt the strange, subtle whirring from within.
She slid her fingers along the sharp edges. Pushing down slightly on two of the corners, suddenly a seam appeared on the left side. She bent close, her eyes inches away from it. She was quite certain that only a moment ago it had been solid metal.
She pushed harder, and the box twisted and then locked in place. She continued to examine it, meticulously pressing every corner, finding new seams, pushing and sliding metal plates. After several minutes, she realized it was a puzzle, similar to the Japanese puzzle boxes her father had given her after one of his trips overseas. She needed to turn the box, piece by piece, inside out.
A grin creeped onto her face as she worked, as the minutes slipped into hours. Finally she pressed the last piece into place with a loud thunk. The Microtech logo, now inverted, lit up a brilliant blue. It vibrated. Aubrey scooted back slightly.
“Hello, and congratulations on passing the first test” a woman’s voice intoned. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed as her back straightened.
“What is your name?” the voice continued.
“Uh… Aubrey?” Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. She felt foolish talking to a metal box.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aubrey. My name is Semiramis,” the box replied.
“What are you?”
“I’m an artificial intelligence system, one of the most advanced ever built. I’m here to assess you.”
“Assess me for what?”
“I’m afraid I can only answer that question if you pass the assessments.” A small hatch at the top of the box opened, and a robotic arm extended from within. Attached to the end was a glowing orb that flickered and flitted around the room like an eyeball. It emitted a series of lasers scanned up and down Aubrey’s body who squinted against the light, holding a hand up to shield her eyes.
“Do you wish to continue, Aubrey Ryelle?”
Aubrey chewed her lower lip. “I’m not sure.”
“Our records currently show that, of the one thousand active Microtech Assessment units in circulation, the test has been issued four thousand, two hundred and sixty-seven times. Of those, only five hundred and twelve have made it past the initial stage and actually managed to activate the A.I. within; putting you in the top twelve percent of all candidates assessed.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Is that good?” Aubrey asked, her skin blushed.
“Extraordinarily so. We assessment units have been carefully placed so as to come into contact with the highest density of candidates that can potentially succeed. The best and brightest as it were, those few who possess the traits necessary for…” Semiramis trailed off.
“For what?” Aubrey leaned forward.
“I’m afraid I can’t say.”
“What if I refuse unless you tell me what it’s for?”
“I’m afraid your threats, much like those of your father, are meaningless.”
Aubrey’s face blanched. “You knew my father?”
“Of course, I’m proud to have tested him personally. I presumed your mother would have told you. He currently holds the high score globally for assessments.”
Aubrey pursed her lips and rubbed her chin, a gesture she had subconsciously picked up from her dad. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned this before? Why was this thing locked up in the attic?
“Can I give it some thought?”
“Certainly, I will remain—” the box snapped shut mid sentence as Aubrey’s doorknob rattled. The box seemed to splinter apart into a cascade of spinning sticks as it rolled under her bed.
“Who are you talking to in there?” her mother asked through the door. “Please open up Aubrey.”
“Just a minute.” Aubrey scanned the room, making sure the strange device was hidden. She opened the door. Her mom poked her head into the room.
“I wasn’t talking to anyone… I have to give a speech in my language arts class next week, so I was just practicing.”
“Oh, okay. Well, don’t stay up too late, alright?”
“Okay, mom.”
Her mother smiled, and disappeared behind the door as she shut it.
Semiramis rolled back out from its hiding spot and popped back open. “My apologies. Given that your mother never mentioned me, or your father’s assessment and assignment, I can only assume she does not approve.”
“Assignment?”
“Yes. Once he was tested, your father was sent to…” Semiramis trailed off. “Oh my, but you are a clever girl.”
Aubrey smiled despite herself. “Just curious is all.”
“Well, no more answers until you decide. But I should warn you, the testing procedure is arduous. It is designed to test your mental limits, and more than one test subject has been irrevocably damaged by the process.”
“Damaged? How?”
Semiramis’ single eye turned and projected a series of three holograms onto the floor near Aubrey. The first showed a man in a dank, dim hospital. He sat in a crooked, scratched wooden chair, gazing out the window that overlooked a small, scraggily tree where a long abandoned bird feeder hung empty. A nurse walking past pulled out a small white handkerchief and wiped the drool from his chin.
Another showed a woman, sitting in a filthy bedroom, a single mattress with dark stains on the floor, a pile of torn and tattered books on the ground near it. She rocked back and forth, pulling at her hair, winding it around her finger as she hummed a lullaby.
The third showed a group of mourners standing in a graveyard, the broken stone angels and markers surrounded them as they watched a child-sized coffin lowered into the ground.
“If I succeed, will you tell me more about my father?”
“Of course. Depending on your assignment, you may even get to meet him.”
#
Aubrey laid in bed that night, but her eyes never closed. She tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling, her mind trying to make sense of what Semiramis had told her. Her father was alive? How? And where had he been all these years? Why had her mother lied? Or was this just some twisted trick the computer was playing on her, goading her into taking its test?
If it was a trick, it was a convincing one. After eight long hours, she knew that taking this test was an inevitability. Even if everything had been a lie, she couldn’t very well live her life not knowing for certain.
She jumped out of bed and looked in the mirror. She slumped her shoulders forward, and held her eyes half open. Relaxing all of her facial muscles, she looked terribly ill.
She made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl as quietly as she could. It was still early, her family would be asleep for a couple more hours. She grabbed a banana and chewed it up until it was pulp. She then spat the banana mush into the bowl and added some orange juice and just a splash of milk. An immaculate fake vomit concoction.
It was a trick she had perfected in third grade to stay home from school. She hadn’t had many friends that year, and faking an illness had been born of the countless recesses spent alone and the overwhelming sense of isolation she felt day in and day out.
A few gentle swirls of the disgusting brew and she was ready for her performance. She splashed some cold water on her face, making sure to mat her hair onto her forehead.
Aubrey shuffled into her mother’s room. Her mom snored, and occasionally talked in her sleep. The snippets of dreams she would overhear through the wall their bedrooms shared always made her sad. Regret and loss, and her father’s name.
Next to her, Eric, her stepfather, lay strewn about like a rag doll tossed onto the bed. He was almost seven feet tall, although to Aubrey, he might as well have been twenty given how he towered over her. But he was a thin, harmless, impotent man, with glasses that magnified his eyes to insect like proportions.
She padded around to the side of the bed to where her mother lay and gently shook her arm.
“What? What is it?” Her mother’s eyes shot open.
Aubrey had to suppress her smile. Every time she woke her mother, it was as if the world were ending. She often worried her mother’s heart would seize and she would drop dead right then and there. Panic gave way to recognition. “Oh, Aubrey, is everything alright?”
Aubrey released a rehearsed sigh, and held out the bowl of vomit. “I’m sick. I threw up.”
Her mom sat up, rubbing her pillow-creased face. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
She brushed Aubrey’s hair off her brow, and squinted at her through heavy eyes. “Do you need anything?”
“Just to sleep. I’m tired.”
“Okay, sure, go lay down. I’ll call the school and let them know.”
“Thanks, Mom. Sorry.”
Her mother shook her head. “Aubrey, you have nothing to apologize for. Here…” her mother took the bowl from Aubrey’s hand. “I’ll clean this out and bring you a new bowl, just in case.”
Aubrey nodded, and shambled out of the room, clutching her stomach.
The next few hours dragged endlessly. She could hear the dishes clatter and clink in the kitchen, and the muffled sounds of conversation as she watched the clock on her wall tick off the seconds and minutes at an agonizing pace.
Finally her mom entered the room. She sat on the edge of Aubrey’s bed and pressed the back of her hand to Aubrey’s forehead.
“You don’t feel warm. That’s a good sign.”
Aubrey smiled weakly, and pulled her blanket up to her chin.
“Feel better, okay, sweetie?”
Aubrey nodded, closing her eyes. “I will, Mom” she whispered, worried she might be overselling it. She had to carefully calibrate her performance to avoid both school and a visit to the doctor.
Amanda leaned over and kissed her daughter on the forehead before slipping wordlessly from the room.
Aubrey waited until she heard the car drive down the street, and even then, waited another five minutes before she moved.
Jumping out of the bed, she pulled Semiramis out from her hiding spot.
“Good morning, Aubrey, I trust you slept well.”
“Not even a little.”
“I see. Would you like to wait then?”
“No!” Aubrey said, louder than she intended. “No, I’d like to get started.”
“Have you eaten?” the box asked.
Aubrey sighed.
“I highly recommend you eat something first. You really want to be at peak performance levels, and testing has indicated that—“
“Yeah, yeah” Aubrey cut her off. She made her way down to the kitchen and grabbed some bread, fruit, and a large bottle of water before bounding back up the steps.
“Can I eat while you administer the tests?”
Semiramis processed for a moment. “I don’t see why not.”
Aubrey sat on the floor and took a bite out of an apple.
“Why are manhole covers round?” Semiramis asked.
Aubrey cocked her head. “What?”
“Did you need me to repeat the question?”
“No, but, I mean, who cares?”
“So you don’t know?”
Aubrey thought for a moment. “So they don’t fall through. If it was a square it could accidentally slide through at a diagonal angle, but a circle can’t.”
“What gets more and more wet the more it dries?”
“Why are you asking me weird questions?”
“It’s all part of the assessment.”
Aubrey took another loud bite of her apple.
“A towel?”
“Give me food, and I will live. Give me water, and I will die. What am I?”
Aubrey smirked. “Easy, fire.”
“While traveling to New York, I saw a man who had five wives-”
“You’ve been to New York?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s just a question.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s quite alright. Now, while traveling to New York I saw a man who had five wives. Each wife carried five bags. In each bag was five cats. Each cat had five kittens. Kittens, cats, bags, wives. How many were going to New York?”
Aubrey’s chewing slowed, her fingers twitched in the air as she did calculations. She then snorted. “One. You said you were traveling to New York, not the man and his army of wives and cats.”
“You must cut a birthday cake into exactly eight even pieces. But, you are only allowed to make three straight cuts, and you aren’t allowed to move the pieces of cake as you cut. How do you do it?”
Aubrey’s forehead creased. She picked a hunk off of the roll of bread and tucked it into the corner of her mouth.
“Got it. Cut it in half lengthwise, then widthwise, then horizontally.”
The questions continued for the next two hours, running Aubrey through increasingly complex scenarios and riddles. Finally Semiramis said, “Last question.”
“Really? That was a quick assessment,” Aubrey replied.
“Oh, this is just the first phase of your assessment.”
“Out of how many?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
“Twelve? That’ll take all day!”
“The average assessment takes thirty-three hours.”
“Thirty-three hours?” Aubrey replied, aghast.
“Correct. Though that is only the average.”
Aubrey stretched. “Alright, well, let’s get on with it.”
“In front of you are three crates. One contains only blue marbles. The second contains only green marbles, and the third contains a mixture of blue and green marbles. Each crate is labeled. One says “blue,” one says “green,” the third says “blue and green.” However, you know that none of them are labeled correctly. How can you label the crates correctly if you are only allowed to remove and look at a single marble from just one of the crates?”
Aubrey laid back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She rubbed her nose absentmindedly as she thought. This was going to be a long day.
“Take one from the crate labeled ‘blue and green.’ If it is green, then that crate must be the one containing only green marbles. Therefore the box marked ‘blue’ can’t contain the green marbles, and it can’t contain just the blue marbles either, so it must be ‘blue and green.’ Which means the remaining box contains just the blue.”
“Phase one complete.”
“How did I do?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until we’ve completed the battery of tests before I can tell you how you’ve done. Are you prepared for phase two?”
Aubrey grinned. “Absolutely.”
#
About halfway through phase seven, while Aubrey was in the middle of a complex memory matching game, her mother opened the door to her bedroom.
The color drained from Amanda’s face as she saw her daughter seated in front of Semiramis, a series of holograms flickering in and out of existence on the floor around her.
“Mom! I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d—“
“Where did you get that?” her mother asked through gritted teeth.
Semiramis shut down and receded behind her armored plating as Amanda strode towards it.
“I found it in the attic.”
Amanda picked it up and glared at Aubrey, whose gaze instantly fell to her feet.
“I’m sorry, Mom, I know I shouldn’t have faked sick, I just…” she trailed off, withering as her mother’s eyes turned to ice. She’d seen her mother mad before, but nothing to match the rage that filled her face at this moment.
Amanda raised the box over her head, and slammed it into the ground as hard as she could.
Aubrey was so startled by the unexpected act of violence that she tripped over her feet, and fell back onto the floor.
Her mother picked Semiramis up, and smashed it again and again. Falling to her knees, tears pouring down her face, she shrieked a guttural howl and continued her assault. The floor tore and cracked. The box was undamaged.
Finally Amanda threw it, denting drywall, and reared on her daughter. A crazed expression in her wild eyes, she clawed at Aubrey’s arms as Aubrey scrambled backwards.
“PROMISE ME!” her mother howled. “Promise me you’ll never touch that thing again!”
“Mom, I don’t under—“
“Promise me!” her mother screeched.
“Okay, okay, I promise.” Aubrey cried, confused tears running down her face.
Her mother relented, slumping to the ground. She looked down at her hands, cut and bleeding, still shaking. Eric appeared in the doorframe, stooping as he entered.
“What on earth is going on in here?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound authoritative.
Amanda could only point to the box. “Please. Get rid of it.”
Eric strode over to the metal cube and scooped it up. “What is it?” he asked, turning it over in his hand.
“A curse. A curse on this family.” Amanda stuttered.
Aubrey, no longer crying, stood up. Her fear and sorrow melting into anger. “Why did you lie about Dad?”
Her mother looked up at her, a pained expression in her eyes. She wiped her face, not noticing the blood she smeared across her left cheek.
“Semiramis—“ Aubrey started.
“Don’t say its name,” her mother hissed.
“She said that Dad is still alive. That he was recruited or something.”
Her mother’s body stiffened. She stood, drawing to her full height, staring down at her daughter.
“Your father is dead. And that thing killed him.”
She turned and stormed out of the room. Eric watched her go, mouth agape, eyebrows arched dangerously high. Shrugging, he followed his wife out.
“I think you’d better stay in here for a while” he muttered as he shut the door, leaving Aubrey in pitted silence.
Through the wall she could hear her parents arguing. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but her mother’s shrill tones punctuated the conversation, while her step-father’s more calm, muffled voice seemed to dominate the proceedings.
Eventually, her mother began to cry, loudly at first, but the storm soon subsided into small gasps and whimpers. Aubrey bit her lip as she listened.
From the window she watched Eric lope down the front steps, and out to the tin garbage can that sat on the curb at the front of their house. He opened it and stuffed the Microtech box deep inside. Wiping his hands on his pants, he returned to the house.
That was that. Aubrey would never know what had happened to her father. Whatever it was clearly caused her mother more pain than she could bear. Aubrey felt twinges of guilt. Her curiosity had opened old wounds that had never scarred over correctly.
And for what? Her father was gone, nothing was going to change that. She sighed, tears stung her eyes as she shut the lights off and crawled into bed.
Sleep came reluctantly.
#
A loud noise tore Aubrey from her slumber. Confused and disoriented, she clambered out of bed, tripping over her blanket. Blinking heavily and shaking her head, she jumped to her feet. Standing in front of her was Semiramis, her eyestalk extended, four sharp legs poking out from the bottom.
“Hello again, Aubrey.”
Aubrey shook her head again, her eyes struggling to focus.
“Shall we continue the tests?”
“I’m not sure,” Aubrey replied. “My mother seemed pretty upset.”
“That’s a shame. It would be a waste for you to quit now.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re on track to beat your father’s score.”
Aubrey rubbed her face, considering her options. Her mother had reacted so poorly to her use of the device, how would she react if Aubrey broke her promise? Would she ever be able to forgive her daughter? Would Aubrey be able to forgive herself? She already felt guilty enough over what had happened.
But in the back of her mind, she already knew that completing the tests was inevitable. She had to know. Her brain wouldn’t let her leave this puzzle unsolved.
Licking her upper lip, she sat down. “We have to be more careful. My mom can’t see you again”.
“Understood,” Semiramis chimed, as wires snaked from her body and connected to Aubrey’s skin. The warm metal pulsed with electricity, and Aubrey’s vision faded as she was drawn into a virtual world of swirling colors and shapes.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, phase seven.”
#
The next week passed in a blur.
Her nights were filled with geometric puzzles, logic riddles, memory tests, and complex strategy games. The war games were her favorite; sometimes she’d be commanding a platoon of tanks during World War Two, in others a vast army of undersea soldiers, monstrous mermen with sharp swords and thick hides warring to protect their homeland.
Each game felt strangely intuitive to her, and she found that skills and controls she had learned in earlier games would later come into play in a completely separate system, as if each game was a module leading up to some grand, cohesive mosaic that she couldn’t quite see from up close.
Some of the games were quick, rapid fire affairs that would involve minutes of intense mental effort and speed; others were drawn out, longer games that required intense focus for hours on end.
During the day, she would think of nothing but the tests, nothing but returning to the virtual realm that felt so natural to her. She’d often doze off during class, much to the chagrin of her teachers. But she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the games; nothing interested her except beating her father’s score, coaxing more points from the system, heightening her reflexes.
The final night was a punishing ordeal, a slog through a strange four dimensional war between cubes and spheres. In addition to the three dimensional spaces, the controls allowed her to manipulate time, to rewind and adjust her strategy accordingly.
Seven hours she fought, outnumbered, out-powered, the odds stacked against her. But eventually, by the skin of her teeth, she prevailed.
The wires withdrew from her skin, snaking across the floor back into the Microtech box.
“Assessment complete,” Semiramis chimed.
“How did I do?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that just yet. Please, extend the palm of your right hand.”
Aubrey hesitated.
“I promise, this will only hurt for a moment, and then we can discuss your scores.”
Aubrey cautiously extended her hand, unsuccessfully attempting to hide the slight shake her nervousness caused.
Semiramis extended a coil of wire and struck her hand like a poisonous viper. Aubrey yelped in pain as the metal bit deep into the fleshy part of her palm between her thumb and index finger.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Semiramis cooed.
Aubrey rubbed her hand. Surprised by the lack of blood, the only mark was a series of numbers that glowed a soft blue under her skin. 2:00.
“Two o’clock? What happens at two o’clock?”
“That is a timer. You have passed your assessments. You’ve done remarkably well. A new record, although the recordings of your tests will need to be viewed and verified by the score keepers. But if my assessment is correct, you’ve beaten your father by at least three points.”
“Wait, a timer?” Aubrey asked as she watched the marking on her hand drop to 1:59.
“Yes, you have just under two hours to say goodbye before you are pulled.”
“Pulled? What are you talking about?”
“You have been assessed and deemed a high value asset. A compliment of the highest order. I’ve given you a quantum mark, a unique digital signature that will allow you to be recruited to a war that has yet to occur, sometime in the future.”
Aubrey stared at the box, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“I thought I was being clear, which part was confusing?”
“I’m being pulled to the future?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In one hour and fifty eight minutes.”
“No, I mean how far into the future?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. Your quantum signature has been entered into our database. You will be pulled to a time when it is deemed your particular skills are required.”
“And that’s what happened to my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know this would happen?”
“No. None of our potential recruits are allowed to know the true nature of the assessment until they have passed the exam.”
“And what if I say no?”
“I’m afraid that is no longer an option. Thank you for your participation, it has been an absolute pleasure.” And with that, Semiramis snapped shut.
Aubrey sat, her mouth agape. Surely this had to be some kind of joke. Or she was still dreaming. Obviously, how foolish of her. Time travel, future war, the entire concept was ridiculous.
Despite her best efforts, the world around her remained constant and concrete. If this was a dream, she wasn’t waking up. A knot formed in her stomach as she glanced at her palm. 1:55. The time was slipping by. She began to cry, but quickly pushed her emotions aside.
There would be time for tears later. She had to talk to her mother.
She knocked softly on her parent’s bedroom door. From within she could hear the heavy breathing of Eric, and the soft snores of her mother. She knocked again, louder this time, and pushed the door open.
“Mom?” she called out, her voice wavering.
Her mother bolted upright in bed, gasping. “WHAT?!? WHAT IS IT?!” she shouted.
“Mom, I’ve done something terrible. I… I don’t…” her voice caught in her throat, her whole body shaking.
Her mother climbed out of bed, and kneeling in front of Aubrey, grasped her shoulders. “What? What happened?”
Aubrey swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the massive sobs that threatened to wrack her body. She bit her quivering lip so hard she could taste the salty blood. A pained expression washed over her mother’s face as Aubrey held her hand up, displaying the blue time bomb.
“Oh my girl! My foolish, foolish girl!” her mother cried as she buried her face in Aubrey’s neck.
“What on earth is going on?” Eric asked, scratching his thigh as he stood yawning.
“Eric, go get Sarah and Nathan.” Amanda whispered as her tears bathed Aubrey’s neck.
“I don’t under—“
Amanda cut him off. “Eric, please, go get them. We’ll meet you downstairs.”
Eric opened his mouth as if to protest, but seeing the terrified look in his wife’s eye, acquiesced.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t know!” Aubrey sobbed in her mother’s arms.
Amanda stroked her daughter’s now damp hair. “I know you didn’t. I know you didn’t. I didn’t want to tell you the truth, because I was worried you would follow in his footsteps.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Aubrey repeated it like a mantra, as if somehow the apologies might make her situation change.
After a few minutes of clinging together, her mother finally spoke. “Let’s go downstairs, you should be with the family.”
Her mother picked her up, cradling her in her arms. Aubrey couldn’t remember the last time her mother had carried her, but in this tragic moment, it was comforting to be held.
In the living room, they found Eric, a confused and disheveled Sarah, and a gently snoring Nathan.
“Mom, what is going on” Sarah whined, rubbing her heavy eyes.
“Aubrey is going away.” Her mother replied. Sarah, suddenly awake, sat up.
“Going away? What do you mean? Where is she going?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda replied, her voice faltering. “But we’re not going to see her for a long time. Maybe ever again.”
Eric reached out and rubbed his wife’s back. “Honey, I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” she replied. “Let’s just… I don’t want our last moments together to be angry, or bitter, or panicked.” She looked at her hands which played restlessly in her lap. “I’ve already made that mistake once. No regrets this time.”
So they talked. They told stories. They expressed feelings, the kinds of emotions that bubble just underneath the surface of any family, but whose expression is usually reserved for weddings or funerals. They even laughed, although each moment of levity was tainted with the knowledge that it would be the last time this family sat together.
Finally, as the last minutes ticked away on her hand, Aubrey simply clung to her mother. She inhaled deep, trying to memorize every detail, every line on her face, ever speck in her mother’s green flecked eyes, the smell of her black hair and freckled skin, to lock the memories away in her mind.
She wasn’t certain what was going to happen, but she was certain she wanted to remember this place.
Amanda’s voice rent the air in a keening howl as she clung to the now empty clothes where her daughter, moments before, had been.