Gray Skies (4 page)

Declan wore a grin from ear to ear as he played with the children. Over the squealing and laughter from the first few rows, he gave Sammi a faint wave of his hand that touched her heart.

He’s the one
, she thought firmly, and dropped any thoughts about Sheila Myers or other girls. Instead, she thought of the great announcement, and not just the one about the End of Gray Skies. She was going to get Declan alone that afternoon, and tell him that she’d chosen him. She was going to ask if he would have her. At once, the thought of it all became overwhelming; joy gripped her, and she wanted to cry. She’d choose him today, it was confirmed.

With her heartbeat racing, Sammi swiped at her eyes, and tidied herself before joining the class in the chant. She found herself leaning forward in her chair, excited to see Andie. It had been a while, and recently, there was worried talk that maybe the poor old thing had finally gone the way of the others androids in the Commune: rusted beyond repair. While Ms. Gilly acted as if she very much disliked the android, she had been seen a few times talking to Andie, as though the robot were one of her students.

The younger kids didn’t know how fortunate they were to have Andie. The classroom had been only a few votes away from never even having an android. Because their Commune was one of the largest, the parents’ requests had overwhelmed the oversight committee, and resources had been found to furnish the build. With no manufacturing, all of the parts had to come from the salvagers. Extinct company names, and etched labels peppered Andie’s little frame, like inky body art, worn over the years. But nobody really saw those names and labels; instead, they only saw the face that the salvagers had made for Andie. In a way, Andie was a student too.

Sammi recalled the day that the android had been delivered. She remembered the large men who’d carried the crate into their classroom, and how she and the other children had remained motionless, and in deep silence. Childish fears had gripped all of them, as the unfamiliar men approached. Their presence, and the heavy smell of the fog’s salty air that was brought with them, had been daunting, and out of place. Though they had worn the same gray-colored coveralls, each of them had also worn a set of black bands circling their arms to signify their reporting group and status.

The older gentleman wore two black bands. His face was tired, and aged, and maybe even sullen, as if he’d surrendered to the idea that his stature in their Commune was a life sentence. When Sammi had grown older, she’d later come to know and understand that look. Her father wore the same two black arm bands, and had the same weary resignation in his expression.

The younger man had worn only a single arm band: a feeble ribbon that appeared to have been pinched on haphazardly with a few fasteners. His face and expression had looked much like the older kids in the class: lively, and still wanting things from life. His brown eyes had taken in every corner of the room as he’d helped to carry the crate. Unlike his partner, there had been no struggle with the weight, and no sounds of reluctance or strain of his young muscles. It had been effortless for him.

Unmoving, except for their gaping eyes, Sammi remembered how she and the other children had studied the men. When the younger man had smiled at them, and chuckled with a greeting instinct had released the frozen grip on them. They had smiled back, and volleyed a collection of pent-up questions, asking about the crate and its contents. The men had wasted no time. Digging into the top panel, they’d pried the boards apart, even cracking one in half. The loud splintered explosion bounced off the classroom walls, and had seemed to strike Ms. Gilly from the side, sending her pitching forward, grabbing at her chest, and laughing at her own overreaction.

When the front panel of the crate crashed to the floor, the little android was revealed to the class. “It’s an Andie-roid,” one of the children had declared, and in unanimous agreement, the class named him Andie. Since that day, they’d loved every minute with him.

That was a long time ago
, Sammi thought, and then wondered if the children who sat with them that morning remembered Andie’s first day, as she did.

“Come on Declan, get Andie. We wanna see Andie!” A young voice lifted from the second row. Soon, more voices were added, tempting the chant that had briefly subsided. “We wanna see Andie! We wanna see Andie!”

When Declan reached the nook where Andie was stored, he motioned to the kids, and teased in a goading voice, “Do you
really
want to see Andie?”

The kids roared a single response, and went back to chanting, “Andie! Andie! Andie!” Sammi joined in, not caring that the older boys and girls around her remained removed in their conversations.

“Are you sure?” Declan taunted. Sammi could see that he was having a lot of fun. The children roared louder, and stomped their feet faster. Sammi leaned forward until her middle was pressed hard against the lip of her desk. Declan swung the door of Andie’s nook open wide, and pushed the large graying button on its front panel. The child-sized android sputtered, shook, and whistled a loud mechanical yawn as it came to life. The children clamored another cheer, loving every bit of it.

Immediately, Sammi could see how long it had been since Andie had visited the class. As the old android powered up and struggled to move forward, he turned, bumping into the side of the nook until Declan repositioned him. Sammi recognized the failed motor sensors, and the glitch in the programming. But despite its struggle, the children ate up the dreamy technology, and clapped as Andie sputtered again, and inched forward from his nook.

The sounds of aged pitted metal and plastic belts joined the children’s enthusiastic hollers. Andie circled, and stopped, and then circled once more before rolling forward to the front of the class. The gray metal of Andie’s chassis was mottled with heavy rust; more than Sammi had ever remembered seeing.

Too much salt in the air. Always too much salt
, she thought, shaking her head. Although it was just an android, Sammi couldn’t help but feel sorry for Andie. She pitied the android, as though he were a sickly classmate. It wouldn’t be long before a resin coat or plastic replacement would be needed.
Anything but metal
, Sammi thought.

“Hi, everybod-dy!” Andie sang in a playful tune. The children responded with another cheer, pounding their feet, and clapping their hands. They all waved to Andie; their fervent eyes stayed large, and fixed on the android. Sammi saw a few of her peers around her abandon their conversations and wave, too. Maybe it was rehearsed from years of seeing the same, or maybe it was in good fun. Perhaps it was just nostalgic, and sentimental. Whatever it was, she liked it.

“Almost a full room! I love, love, LOVE a full ROOM!” Andie sang, and trilled his words. As he elevated his perfectly round head a half meter above his body, Sammi heard the soft purr of his motor. Andie turned left, and then right; his two silvery eyes reflected warped oval-shaped images of the class as he studied each student.

“We are missing someone. Re-calculating. Re-calculating. We are missing a few?” Andie asked, lowering his bulbous head, and turning his face up to Declan. Sammi quickly looked around, and found that what Andie had said was true. Three classmates were missing: Harold Belker, and his two sidekicks, Peter and Richie. Sammi studied the empty seat next to her. She wondered what foulness Harold might have left behind on his seat. Thinking of the years of sitting near him, she shuddered, particularly as she thought of the last year, and the torture of having him next to her. How many times had she looked into his piggy face as he snorted and huffed callousness and cruelty, bullying anyone close enough to hear him?

He has the face of a hog
, she thought, as images of his sunken, beady eyes and his upturned nose with wide, flaring nostrils, reminded her of the hogs on the farming floors of their Commune. There was an ugliness, and even a meanness, that seeped from his pores, violating everything that he touched. As she considered the years of teasing and hair pulling, and the types of bullying that nobody should be subjected to, resentment began to turn in her, like a revolting sickness: vile and putrid.

How many times had he put his hands on her? How many times had his cronies held her down in the corner of the classroom, hidden away from everyone? How many times had she felt his eager, piggy fingers on her skin, touching her, squeezing, and pushing where his hands should never have been? This last thought fed the burning vileness, and for a moment, she thought that she might just vomit right there on his chair. Deep down, she wanted to. She wanted to throw up her morning soy crackers and goat milk, making a puddle of her own pool of foulness for him to sit in.

But what scared her—what doused the anger and the disgust, and woke her in the middle of the night, as emotions riddled her body in sweat, and caused a chill to run across her skin—was the last exchange of words she’d had with Harold.

“You will be mine,” he’d told her at the end of the school day. “Your time to choose someone is coming up.” He’d lifted his piggy nose, sniffing at the air around her. “I know you’re ready; I can smell it,” he’d said, and then snorted a piggy laugh. “Nobody will have you, but me. You’re going to choose me.” Sammi felt revolted, and when she’d scoffed at him, his lips thinned into a menacing sneer. Before she could get away, he’d reached across from where he sat, gripping her arm, pulling her closer to him. Sammi’s body lurched downward, hard and violent. She’d let out a soft cry that was loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction. But the fear that Harold held over the class turned their faces away, as he’d challenged them with a firm look.

“You
will
be mine. You
will
carry my babies, and nobody else’s. And if you choose someone else, someone like Declan, I’ll hurt him. I’ll hurt him bad. And I might just want to hurt you, too.” When Harold let go of her arm, springing her free, he’d laughed an evil sound that had stayed with Sammi for days after.

As Sammi watched Andie and Declan, she felt the place on her arm where the bruises were still raised and sore. “Ugly boy,” she mumbled, wanting to dismiss his threat, as just his bullying ways. But she was afraid of him.

“Very good, Andie,” Ms. Gilly answered. “It seems that Harold and his two friends have decided on some extracurricular activities this morning, and won’t be joining us,” she continued. Sammi thought she saw a hint of relief on Ms. Gilly’s face, and maybe heard a little lift in her voice. Harold and his two bully friends wouldn’t be missed. While they didn’t bully Ms. Gilly, they certainly gave her a rough time. They gave everybody a rough time.

Declan stepped forward. “Andie, would you please show us what the world used to look like?”

“Do you mean Earth? Our Earth? Or do you mean another Earth?” Andie hooted and beeped as his head bounced up and down. The younger kids ate it up.

“Yes, our Earth,” Declan answered, playfully nudging Andie. A metallic thwack echoed through the room, and all eyes peered forward when the crown of Andie’s globular head began to open. When the opening grew large enough, Andie revealed to the classroom a glassy dark orb.

“It’s Andie’s brains!” One of the children screeched. Sammi let out a breathy laugh. She knew it wasn’t Andie’s brains, but she held her words. She enjoyed watching the children and their reactions to Andie, but more so, she enjoyed Andie.

The glassy orb lifted up and above Andie’s head, pointing at the ceiling, and the skylights. Then there was silence, except for the low hum that was emanating from somewhere inside Andie. Almost unnoticeable at first, a tiny flicker of light appeared from inside the orb. A few of the children flinched at the lively sight. They settled a moment later when the intensity of the light increased. Through the anticipating chatter of young voices, a low hum crossed the room, and Andie began groaning. Sammi let out a disappointed sigh, thinking that maybe it was too much for him; maybe his orb light-projector was broken. Andie groaned again, and the glassy orb’s light grew brighter. He coughed out another groan, louder than before, and the orb’s light flashed into an illuminated ball of yellow and white, floating inside the glass. A very faint image started to appear above Andie. The electronic photograph was marred with black crevices, and was covered with scratches and holes, reminding Sammi of the dark, icky mold that she often had to clean from their dwelling.

“Andie, the photographs are all grainy, and scratchy-looking,” Declan said, sounding disappointed.

“Might be some d-dust on my projector lens? Could you please clean me?”

Declan leaned over, and blew on Andie’s glassy orb. A storm of dust particles circled up into the vortex of his breath before falling out of the path of projected light.

“Oh my, that feels so g-good. Again, again, again!” Andie sang, begging for more. The younger kids laughed. Their eyes fixed on Andie with mesmerized awe. Laughing, Declan blew once more, clearing the remaining dust.

“Thank you, dear Declan. Now, let me try that again. Here we go!” Andie said, and began to cough and groan; much louder this time. A few of the children covered their ears to the unfamiliar sounds. The light grew brighter, and all eyes widened, as their hands fell from their ears.

Seconds later, a glorious eruption of colors flooded the classroom. Mouths fell open, and all of the children, even the older teens, hushed, except for the sounds that accompany reverence and wonder. It was the same electronic photograph show that Sammi remembered from years before, the one with the butterfly. She searched for the butterfly in the mural of animated light, finding the winged miracle almost within reach of her hand. A sentimental joy and tenderness fluttered inside her. Today
was
special for more than a few reasons.