2.2 - Xerosum
Nia and Devi lived on the thirty-fourth floor of The Octavian, one of three communities built for Xerosums. As Xerosums, their only objective was to perfect the abilities and affectations assigned to them by their progenitor. Once they were needed for a specific event, or they seemed to have reached their maximum potential, they would be assimilated by the progenitor and a new Xerosum would be brought into being. Nia and Devi were Xerosums of a painter and a digital artist respectively. More precisely, they were creative guidance Xerosums, responsible for the direction of their progenitor’s art for the next five to seven years depending on their compatibility with the process.
“Coffee this morning?” Devi called from the kitchen.
“Did they deliver the light roast yet?” Nia called back. They weren’t allowed to leave the apartment, nor would they have any desire to, so all food was ordered through a robotic assistant called Abram, and delivered via pneumatic tubes placed throughout the apartment.
“Let me check,” Devi said. Nia heard the kitchen floor creak, and the panel of the tube slide open. “Yup! It’s here. Wait, why did you order more black beans?”
“Well they were out last time, so I thought we should stock up when we had the chance,” Nia said, leaning around her canvas and looking into the kitchen. Devi stepped into view with a clear cylinder packed with groceries and shook her head.
“Never will we want for black beans again!” she declared, before stepping out of the doorway. “So was that a yes to coffee?”
“Yes, please! The light roast.” Nia responded. She turned back to her canvas and stared long and hard at it. Two bodies, intertwined on a busy sidewalk. Winter’s first snow kissed the rooftops. A dog barked at the mass of flesh, and a mother rushed her children away. Red and blue lights were splashed across the sides of faraway buildings, moving closer without movement, just perspective. She hadn’t touched it in days, only staring and picking it apart in her mind. Each brushstroke, each color transition, each shadow, meticulously done. It was one of her best. She leaned back and tilted her head to the yellowed white ceiling. What a bland prison, she thought, and then abruptly sat up. That was an odd thought. I don’t think I should be thinking like that. How does one not think in a particular direction? I suppose I’ll just think about something else.
“Did you hear me?” Devi’s voice echoed out once more.
“No, sorry, what did you say?” Nia called back, rubbing her knees.
“I asked if you want oatmeal or a breakfast patty.”
Nia walked into the kitchen, the air thick with the smell of coffee. As she entered the room, she realized she didn’t have a reason for coming in.
“You okay?” Devi asked.
“I...I don’t know. I’m feeling weird. Do you feel weird?” Nia asked.
“No, I feel fine. A little worried about you now.” Devi said. “Did you sleep last night?”
“Not well,” Nia said, stepping over to the counter covered in groceries. She pulled a grape from the vine and popped it into her mouth.
“You’re probably just nervous about the check in today,” Devi said. “It’ll be fine. You’ve done some of your best work recently, I know she’ll love it.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Nia responded. “Your progenitor likes you more than she likes herself I think. Mine is so...unpredictable.”
Devi poured coffee into two, bright blue, square mugs and handed one to Nia, then gently cradled the other in her hands. Before answering, she pursed her lips and delicately blew on the steam billowing up out of the mug. The steam burst outward, hung in the still air for a moment, and then disappeared.
“I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Your last piece alone should be good enough, and then you have the other two you finished this cycle.”
Nia quietly sipped her coffee, leaning against the white marble countertop. We should just get out of here, she thought. A pit formed in her stomach. Another thought she shouldn’t be having. It was a strange feeling, to be surprised by a thought. Like waking yourself up in a dream.
“Have you...do you ever think things you shouldn’t?” Nia said.
“Sure,” Devi said. “Just yesterday, I thought about not working on my project and just sitting around. It didn’t last long, but I had the thought.”
“That’s not exactly what I mean. Do you ever feel trapped?”
Devi’s expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed, jaw tightened, head cocked ever so slightly to the left. What was a look of friendly concern became a distrusting glare.
“No, Nia,” she said. “And you shouldn’t either.”
She turned her back and continued unpacking groceries without another word. Nia’s hands began to shake, splashing a few drops of coffee out of her mug onto the sides of her fingers. She felt her heart quicken and skip a beat, and the breath in her throat furiously spun away from her. For the first time, she felt alone and scared. Concepts she was aware of, and attempted to elicit in some of her pieces, but had never felt herself. Just as she felt her grip loosening on her mug, there was a loud knock on the door.
“They’re early. Better sooner than later I suppose.” Devi said, walking past Nia without making eye contact. Nia finally caught her breath and sat her mug down on the counter. She took a moment to breathe deep. The swirling air in her throat had moved to her stomach, where it churned her insides like a blender. She continued to focus on breathing, as a voice reached her ears.
“Good morning Devi.” It was Cassandra, one of three hundred Xerosum managers who acted as representatives for the progenitors. The first wave of Xerosums interacted directly with their progenitors but that was quickly put to an end after the first six months, during which, twenty-six different progenitors killed their own Xerosums. “Is Nia working?”
“No actually, she just took a moment for breakfast,” Devi said, still in the hallway. “You two can follow me.”
Two? Nia thought. It was unusual for there to be more than one manager for a routine check-in. She left the kitchen and returned to her painting just as Devi appeared from around the corner. Behind her was Cassandra, carrying a clipboard and dressed in the dark blue reflective suits the Xerosum managers were known for. It looked as if she was wrapped in wax. Following both Devi and Cassandra was a Bulkman. After a Xerosum was assimilated, they left a shell behind. The shells were either burned for fuel or were repurposed by a private military company called The Irene Company. The shells were split open, and a computerized infrastructure was placed inside, which could then be operated by an officer offsite. They were called Bulkmen on account of the fact that the infrastructure wasn’t made to fit each Xerosum, and more often than not, the Xerosum shell would be stretched over the mechanical skeleton placed inside of it. The Bulkman accompanying Cassandra was a particularly egregious example. He stood nearly six feet tall, and his arms were double the size of the Xerosum he was wearing, as the skin was stretched so tight Nia could see the wiring and aluminum plating beneath it. His presence was unnerving not only because of his very state of being but also because there was only one reason a manager brought a Bulkman with them.
“Good morning Nia,” Cassandra said, just as she had when Devi opened the door. “Is this what you have for us?”
Before Nia could respond, Cassandra pulled a pair of thin square glasses from her pocket and had her nose nearly touching the painting as she examined it.
“Yes,” Nia said, as she eyed the Bulkman standing motionless. She could feel the operator watching her, despite the fact that the eyes of the Xerosum shell were motionless. Cassandra muttered to herself each time she scribbled something down on her clipboard but didn’t share it with Nia. Devi stood quietly in the kitchen, out of the way of the process. Each time Nia looked back at her, she would look away. Outside of Cassandra’s muttering, the only noise to break the silence was the slow shifting of the Bulkman. Each movement was accompanied by a shrill, grating noise. The Irene Company had produced nearly a thousand Bulkmen in less than a year, and the quantity was certainly taking precedence over quality. After fifteen minutes, an unusually short time for a check in, Cassandra stood up straight and slid her glasses back into her pocket.
“This won’t do at all,” she said. “No, this is far too provocative for your progenitor. She wouldn’t feel comfortable with the direction you’ve taken her art. Devi, you’ll be assigned a new coworker soon, but it may be a few days before we find a suitable one. This art will be gathered up and burned within the next business day. Nia, come with us.”
“No, wait!” Nia shouted. “I can fix it!”
Cassandra had already turned her back but paused halfway towards the hallway. The Bulkman shifted his position to face Nia directly but made no other movements. Cassandra turned around, still holding her clipboard to her chest, her look of disinterest transformed to a look of annoyance.
“I expected as much from you,” she said. “You seem to have forgotten what you are. You are merely a scrapyard of thoughts pieced together by your progenitor. Without them, you are nothing. They haven’t been pleased with your recent work, and this piece only continues the trend. If we were to value every thought we have, no progress would ever be made. You are an acceptable sacrifice for progress.”
Cassandra waved a hand towards the Bulkman, and turned back to the hallway. Just as she did, something whipped by Nia’s head, too fast to identify. A loud thunk rang out in the apartment, and Cassandra fell to one knee. A slow, thick river of blood began to run out of the back of her head and down her reflective blue suit. A can of black beans, half covered in blood, rolled across the floor towards Nia’s feet. She turned around to see Devi standing in the doorway, a second can in hand. Behind her, hanging from the ceiling was a dismantled security camera.
“Nia, run!” she shouted. She lifted her hand to throw the second can at the Bulkman, but his body shifted suddenly and in a second, he was in the doorway lifting Devi up by her neck. She gurgled in pain and kicked at him to no avail. Nia looked towards the hallway, now free and clear, Cassandra having fallen unconscious on the floor. She turned and jumped on the back of the Bulkman, plunging her fingers into the cold dead eyes of its body. After prying them to the sides, she reached her fingers in deeper, just barely deep enough to feel the vision sensors in its head. She gripped them tightly and pulled. Static blared out from the head of the Bulkman, and a loud feedback loop nearly paralyzed Nia, causing her to fall backward off of its body. In the same moment, it lost its grip on Devi and tumbled to the ground. The Bulkman began to frantically swing its arms in every direction, and stomp its heavy boots as if it were chasing a bug. Devi was free of its clutches, but trapped in the kitchen, as it slowly moved forwards further into the doorway. Nia crawled backward, her hands sinking into the pool of Cassandra’s blood that was slowly spreading throughout the room. In the pool was the dented can of black beans. Devi had reached the far wall of the kitchen and the Bulkman was inching closer and closer to her. Its next stomp would find Devi’s legs and cripple them. Nia grabbed the can of black beans and, with all her strength, threw it at the back of the Bulkman. The can, splashing blood across the walls like paint, tumbled through the air and slammed into the back of the Bulkman. It wasn’t enough to damage it, but turned in a rage and charged out of the kitchen. As it did, Devi scrambled forward, keeping to the sides of the room. In the open, the Bulkman was easy to avoid, even in its manic state, and the two Xerosums crept into the hallway towards the door. As they did, the Bulkman found Cassandra’s body, and thinking it to be one of the Xerosums, flew further into a rage. Nia and Devi saw firsthand the horrors that the Bulkmen were capable of. Once more, Nia was flooded with emotions she was aware of but had never experienced herself. This time, it was far too complex for her to understand. A weight in her stomach, and what felt like a heavy cloth draped over her heart, but at the same time, a lightness in her feet and her fingertips, and a spinning wheel building momentum in her head. Quietly, the two Xerosums snuck out of the Octavian using the noise and ensuing panic from their apartment as cover and found their way into the sunlight for the first time. Somewhere, their progenitors felt an odd sensation, like staring at a crack down the middle of a pane of glass. An invigorating fear of nothing.