Chapter Text
“Hey, hey lady! You’re holding up the line!”
Mandy’s gaze - heavy with fatigue and blurring around the edges - remained settled on the vending machine in front of her. This machine - made by I.Q like everything else seemed to be - sold “fresh” spring rolls. Bundled up in foil, then placed in a sealed, insulated package, they rested like little soldiers in packs of two. The vending machine’s glass was frosted, blurring her view of the food inside even more, but somehow the little spring rolls would come out of the slot at the bottom piping hot and ready to eat.
She blinked. And suddenly the vending machine was gone. The bright lights of the Mall replaced by the inky blackness of night, shot through with spot fires, embers floating through the choking, smoky air. Between two rows of melted, mangled seats, a body lay still. Tiny, and lifeless.
She blinked again, the machine and the Mall coming back to her.
How fresh were they? How the heck could a vending machine hold so many spring rolls for an indefinite amount of time and have their products still be “fresh”? Her gaze drifted up to the eponymous I.Q logo in the top right-hand corner of the light-blue coloured vending machine. Was this another lie of I.Q Robotic? Were the spring rolls laced with arsenic, to slowly kill off the people who ate them? Was it another method of Ares’ to ensure humanity’s ultimate demise?
Another blink. The lifeless little body was closer now. It was Piper Pin, the girl Mandy had – not a week before – promised to help. To be there for. Mandy saw her own hands, as if disembodied from her arms, reaching for the girl. She saw more than felt Piper’s cold, clammy skin under her fingertips, the stillness at her neck. No pulse. Nothing. In the haze of this nightmarish memory, Piper’s face came closer, and Mandy’s hands fell to the girl’s chest for the first of several rounds of CPR.
“Lady - for the love of - MOVE! Just move! I’m hungry, there’s like seventeen people behind me who are hungry. Either get a snack or move it so we can!”
Mandy blinked, the buzzing in her hazy, tired mind settling just enough for her to hear and understand the words spoken behind her. Turning around, she saw a woman, face red and fuming, glaring back at her. The woman, like most people she had seen over the last few weeks, wore many layers of clothes, to combat the cold of late autumn, and for practicality. A lot of people had lost everything in what was quickly being called “The Massacre”, so the survivors held all their possessions close, on their bodies in layers of clothing, handbags, and backpacks.
Not that Mandy herself looked much different.
Blinking slowly, she shook her head, stepping away from the machine. The woman scowled and strode forwards, pulling out her ID clip and swiping it over the vending machine’s scanner. The first row on the left-hand side shoved forward with a mechanical whir, the machine rattling for a few seconds before a hot, steaming package of two spring rolls flopped into the chute at the bottom.
With a cry, the woman lunged for her food, ripping open the packet and taking a bite of one spring roll, despite the clouds of steam smacking into her face. She turned around to glare at Mandy, flashing her the middle finger as she sauntered back to a toy shop in Grainland’s First Mall. Mandy watched the woman flop onto a stool behind the toy shop’s counter, still munching on her food.
Ah. So, she worked in the Mall, then.
After the toy shop cashier had left, the line that Mandy had been holding up moved quickly. First a bedraggled man with half is face covered in dirty bandages grabbed a packet of spring rolls, then a woman clutching the wrists of two small children, a tiny baby strapped to her chest.
The line snaked from the vending machine, past benches and around a corner, where Grainland Bookhub sat at the corner across from Prestige Jewellery Design. The overhead lights blared white and harsh, settling into Mandy’s eyes with piercing, painful intensity. Grimacing, she turned away, slowly looking for somewhere else to get food.
Mandy did not know why she had gone to an I.Q vending machine looking for something to eat. Maybe it was the last vestiges of familiarity, of safety that the idea of that company brought her. Maybe it was a subconscious desire for things to go back to the way they were before the Massacre.
Mandy blinked again, her memory sending tingles down her arms. She remembered holding Piper, cradling the girl’s body to her chest as she ran through the desolate city streets. Foul, smoke-hazy air seeped into her lungs, explosions rocked the ground under her feet. Mandy remembered tripping, stumbling several times, remembered watching evil Q-Bots advance on her, before their harsh, glaring gazes had seen the girl in her arms and they’d backed away.
Shaking herself from the memory, and the confusing questions it brought, Mandy focused on her surroundings. She was in the Mall, looking for something to eat. The idea of eating Mrs. Quang’s burnt rice again was not appealing.
In the days after The Massacre, there had been pandemonium. Utter chaos. Rioting, looting, and for those who still had money, panic buying. No one touched anything that came from I.Q in any of their desperate escapades unless it was to destroy it. But even in a panic, the rioters and looters seemed to realise that destroying a vending machine full of “food” was a bad idea. Grains Grocers - the biggest of China’s chain stores - was mostly empty. Huge bags of Affectiva: The Dog Food Humans Can Eat had been snatched off the shelves, leaving them bare and empty. Many had even taken regular bags of dry dog food - meant only for dogs - plus cans of wet food. The fresh produce section held only a few meagre items, all of which needed cooking to be consumed. And with power cuts and sporadic blackouts plaguing the city - all the power supply diverted to the hospital, police headquarters, the Mall and the offices of government - no one could cook that produce properly. Living in a world where people would input their recipes into their stoves, and it would automatically set the temperatures and cooking times - and that was IF people decided to cook for themselves instead of letting their Q-Bots do it - meant that no one was that good at cooking. Whether it was on a small camping stove, or over an open fire, the smell of burnt food joined the ever-present haze of ash and stench of decaying, burnt bodies that lingered through the city streets.
With supermarkets stripped of everything shelf-stable and edible right down to the last stray grains of rice scattered on the linoleum floors, Mandy set her sights on the nearby bakery. Mr. Moon had come from a family of bakers and knew how to work the ovens. He too, was doing it rough, struggling to get supplies of flour and yeast, but he managed, a little. Maybe he would have something for her.
As she walked to the bakery, Mandy passed the remains of an I.Q store, its glass doors shattered, the insides gutted and burned to nothing more than black powder. It had been a gleaming store, she remembered, a place where people could go to get parts of their robots changed, or buy smaller products like the hairbrush bot, or the toothbrush bot. Now, the only reason someone would go in there was to exert their rage, or cry in the ash.
Quickening her pace past the remnants of her old life, Mandy soon found herself edging into the bakery. It wasn’t that crowded today, and she could see why. The cabinets were almost empty, a few sweet rolls sitting on the top shelf. There was no hot food, no fresh Bahn mi rolls, or sandwiches available. The fridge that had once held a selection of iced drinks sat dark and mostly empty; all the iced milk options taken in the first day after The Massacre by desperate people seeking a quick caffeine hit after staying up all night watching the battle.
Mandy had not been one of them.
That first day, as the sun breeched the horizon casting the horrors of the previous night into sharp relief, Mandy had been huddled in the waiting room of the Emergency Department at Grainland Central Hospital, the biggest hospital in the city. Piper was clutched tightly in her arms, her head resting on Mandy’s left shoulder.
The emergency department had been pure chaos, filled with people rushing in with burns and explosion wounds. The doctors in the ED had thankfully abided by strict rules not allowing personal Q-Bots in, only sanctioned med-bots were allowed. Thus, the emergency department had faired a lot better than the rest of the hospital, in which portions had been blown up. In wards filled with long-term patients who had their Gen 6’s by their side when The Massacre began, little remained bar ash.
It had taken Mandy at least five hours before Piper was eventually admitted at three in the morning. She’d had to deal with an angry doctor who refused to let them in after she gave him Piper’s name, before finally being let in by a kind nurse. After that, it had been a lot of anxious waiting, filling out form after form after form as the computer systems were down. Trying to explain that she didn’t have ALL of Piper’s information only made it worse, the only thing working in her favour was that there were survivors who were dragging in others from the streets, and they had no idea who these people were, only that they needed help.
Finally, at 6 in the morning, Piper was in a bed, intubated and hooked up to an ancient-looking observation machine. The nice nurse who had let them in - Nora - had shepherded Mandy away from the crowded hospital room, telling Mandy to come back the next day to see how Piper was going. In the meantime, she’d said, they would call if anything happened, and urged Mandy to get an iced coffee from the vending machine before she collapsed.
But by that point, there were no iced coffees left.
Shaking herself out of the memory, Mandy’s eyes met those of the baker, Hal Cheung. A soft *ding* chimed as she entered, causing Hal to smile softly.
“Hi… Mindy, was it?”
“Mandy. Hi Hal.”
“Right. Hi. What can I get for you, Mandy? I’m sorry but I don’t have much to offer today.”
“That’s OK. As long as it’s not from an I.Q vending machine, I’ll be happy.”
Hal chuckled, shaking his head as he drummed his fingers on the counter. “True that! True that… alright. So… I have some pumpernickel bread - very heavy and dense - and some almond cookies. Most people are going for the bread, so there’s not much of that left…”
“What about those?” Mandy pointed to the sweet rolls in the glass cabinet.
“Oh… bugger. I forgot to get rid of those. Didn’t realise the milk powder I used to make the cream was bad until a customer threw up on my floor. Sorry. Your only options are the bread and almond cookies.”
“Almond cookies sound nice,” Mandy nodded, grabbing her ID clip to pay.
“Cool. That’ll be 30 Regional Dollars.”
“30? For how many cookies?”
“30 for ten cookies… sorry. The price of food has gone through the roof, I’m afraid.” He sighed, handing over a medium sized plastic container filled with round, cream-coloured cookies.
Mandy nodded, pocketing her clip. “I understand. Thanks for the cookies, Hal.”
Tucking her purchase securely in her backpack, Mandy headed out of the Mall, arriving in a desolate parking lot, filled with the rusted, hollow shells of half-exploded cars, stray litter tumbling over the dusty asphalt in the breeze. She glanced left, then right, wondering where to go now. On the one hand, she could go back to the hospital, to see Piper. On the other, she could go home.
Neither option were appealing. But then again, nothing about this new world that Ares had called “perfect” was appealing at all.
The world outside the hospital had been just as chaotic as the world inside. At first glance, it looked as if most things were fine - there were more buildings in the city centre standing then there were not. Yet the lines of people waiting for food, water or medical assistance seemed contrary to that. Groups of survivors huddling in doorways or building lobbies showed a picture of human despair. The air was still thick with ash and the suffocating stench of smoke choked Mandy’s lungs as she walked from the hospital to the apartment. Transport was suspended until further notice.
Returning home had been… jarring for Mandy. Her apartment was on the bottom floor of a red-brick and concrete three-story building of six apartments. Out of the six, only two were still functional, and even that was a stretch. They didn’t have chunks blasted out of them or burns scarring rooms and charred furniture, but they also didn’t have access to electricity, heat or running water.
Out of Mandy’s twelve neighbours, seven were dead. She wasn’t sure how they had died, the survivors falling silent, eyes wide, shaking their heads slowly.
Mandy’s apartment was the bottom left. The narrow cobblestone path that led from the footpath to the mailbox also led straight to her door, another path branching off that one to lead to the apartment directly to her right. Her front door was still locked - after everything, it felt strange to dig in her pockets for her keys.
The inside of her apartment had been mostly intact. The kitchen, her bedroom, the spare room/office and bathroom were all fine. A thin layer of ash coated everything in solid, dark grey, like a grungy film. Turning to her left and walking into the living room though… revealed a sight that Mandy had hoped she would not see in her own home.
The TV was a twisted, mangled wreck of shattered glass, warped plastic and burnt wires. Her rug - the lovely purple and black polka dot one that her brother had given her for her birthday that year - was gone, reduced to a charred, ashen mess. Her couch was half obliterated too, burnt down to the metal frame in some parts. The sliding doors that led to the courtyard were gone, blasted out by the explosion. And there, in the centre of the room, was the twisted, mangled carcass of the thing that had caused the explosion.
In that moment, Mandy was equal parts grateful and resentful that Piper had told her to leave her Gen 6 at home. If she’d taken it, there was a good chance it could have killed her in the I.Q Tower as she and Tanner tried to find a way down to the stadium. But, by leaving it at home… she had this mess to deal with.
In the days that followed her grim discovery, Mandy had banded together with her neighbours, pooling whatever resources they had like food, bottled water, blankets, clothing, hygiene products. One of the neighbours had figured out how to construct a makeshift pump right into the storm water drain halfway down their street, creating a sort of well. The police hated their communal well but permitted it until complete public order had been restored. They set up a bathing area in the courtyard of her ground-floor neighbour to the right. Water was heated for cooking and washing in a big, metal drum from a washing machine over a small fire and tipped into the bathtub. Salvaged curtains were hung from the washing line for privacy.
It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.
Mandy had put sheets up over the yawning gaps whee her sliding glass doors had been, swept the glass shards into her courtyard; and shoved the destroyed furniture out there too. It was by no means perfect, there was still ash everywhere and the sheets did nothing to insulate her apartment from the bitterly cold winds that came through at night, but it was better than nothing. She ate burnt food that she prepared with her neighbours, bathed in her neighbours’ courtyard and shared what little she had left to her name.
Being at home wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. All Mandy really wanted was for her phone to work properly, so she could call her brother and see how he, his wife and their son Liam were going. But no matter how many times she called his number, she got a busy signal. It was infuriating and terrifying all at once.
Sighing, Mandy rolled her shoulders, repositioning the backpack a little. The only people that brought her some comfort these days were Tanner and Piper. Sure, the kid wasn’t family - not like Liam - but she was still Mandy’s responsibility. Three weeks ago, when Mandy had made that promise to help take care of the girl, she’d meant it. The “person” she’d made that promise to turning out to not be a person at all didn’t change things. That not-person being dead didn’t change things either. Piper still needed someone to take care of her, Mandy was alive, and able, so she would.
As for Tanner… he was her friend. The most unconventional friend she had ever made, but still. Normally, her friendships had all started with meeting someone - male or female - at the bar, getting drunk, playing plenty of pool then sneaking into the cinemas to watch movies and steal other people’s popcorn. And sometimes, instead of sneaking into the movies to steal popcorn, she and her “friends” would go to either of their homes and… the rest was history. But Tanner? Helping him process ten years’ worth of grief before embarking on a crazy-ass mission to try and save the world was not how she usually made friends. But somehow, she felt like his was the most genuine friendship she had made in the last twenty years.
Heading west, Mandy passed by City Central Park, where scores of people had set up tents and lean-to’s, a mini refugee camp springing up from where survivors had gathered the night of the Massacre. She passed more wreckage in the streets, noticing that there were more people dressed in orange and yellow safety vests today than there were yesterday. Passing by a gutted I.Q store, Mandy spotted a poster emblazoned with the crest of the Department of Grainland Security, seeking volunteers to help in the city-wide clean-up. They would be paid in food, apparently.
Her stomach growled.
Hopefully, Piper would be awake today. And if she was, Mandy hoped she would be able to eat solid foods. If not… she could sneak one to Tanner.
Tanner had gotten into the hospital just as Mandy had left the day after the Massacre. He’d literally been wheeled in on a stretcher, passed out, as Mandy shoved her way through the still-clogged doors of the Emergency Department. Recognising him, Mandy had rounded on the doctors pushing his bed, asking if they knew who he was. They didn’t, and so Mandy had found herself filling out forms again, only able to verify the man’s name from his I.Q nametag, as well as let the staff know that he was Piper’s uncle.
Since then, she had been by - if not every day, then every second day - to visit them both. Piper had been unconscious since the Massacre, while Tanner woke up after the first week. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was nice to have someone to talk to who had been with her through the worst of that horrible night.
Reaching the hospital about fifteen minutes later, Mandy paused at the fence, watching the doors to General Admissions. Tanner had been moved out of the ED, as his condition was not critical, once they set his arm and wrapped it in tight bandages over cool cloth. Piper on the other hand... was not well. Mandy wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the nosebleed the girl had had when she’d arrived in her apartment, or whatever Piper had done to distract Ares at the stadium. Either way, she was not in a good way, and needed constant observation, her condition having the potential to change wildly without a moment’s notice.
Sighing, Mandy decided to see Tanner first, trudging towards General Admissions.
The waiting room was still busier than usual, but nowhere near as chaotic as it had been in the first week after the Massacre. There were more visitors now, coming to see patients, rather than people being admitted. Wading through the crowds of people - some small groups of young and late teens, adults sitting alone or in small groups, some with children, many without - Mandy found herself at the front desk.
Behind a pane of shatter-proof glass, a man with curly black hair looked up at her with tired blue eyes.
“Hi,” she said, hoping her smile didn’t come out more like a grimace.
He didn’t even try to hide his exhausted wince. “Uh… hi. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m here to see a patient. His name is Tanner Rice.”
“Oh, uh, yeah… gimme a sec…” the receptionist’s face disappeared behind the semi-transparent holographic screen of his computer, scrolling through a list of names.
“Sorry,” he grunted as he worked. “We only just got the system up and running again. I mean, yippee, we’re not working on backup generators anymore, some power’s coming back on to critical areas in the city, but at the same time, ugh. Man! It’s so much work digitising the lists we made over the last few weeks!”
“I bet. Hey, if you need any help, I can volunteer my time.”
As much as home was OK… waking up coughing every morning, with a layer of dust and ash clogging up her windpipe and settling in her lungs was not fun. At east here, the air was filtered, recycled and cleaner than the air outside.
“Yeah?” The man grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “Sure thing. Just… when you’re done visiting the patient, ask a nurse for a yellow vest and we’ll sit you down behind my desk so you can get started. Basically, all you gotta do is type up the information. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Chuckling humourlessly, Mandy reflected on her old job. She’d spent all day in front of a computer, basically managing I.Q from an administrative standpoint.
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, her voice low, bitter.
“Cool. OK, found him. Tanner Rice - oh. He’s a doctor, right?”
“Yeah. Not like a medical doctor though. Uh, I don’t think anyway.”
“Eh. Even if he was, I don’t think he’d be able to help. Says here he’s ‘physically incapacitated’. Poor guy. Anyway. He’s in room 102C. Need any help finding it, or can you follow the signs?”
Mandy cracked another smile, this one feeling softer, more genuine than her first. “I should be fine. Thanks.”
Heading out of the waiting room, she hung a left, heading down a long hallway. Repairs had started here, with sheets of bare, tan-coloured drywall already standing where walls had been blown to bits three weeks ago. The edges of exposed wires were bundled up with electrical tape, carefully insulated with materials that Mandy had never seen before. Some black patches remained on the walls, floors and ceilings, but the strong scent of bleach overrode any of the choking ash smell that still lingered outside.
How long, she wondered, would it take for the world to smell alive again? Weeks? Months? Years?
… Decades?
Tanner’s room was a floor up from the waiting room, and with the elevators shut down - for safety precautions - Mandy huffed and puffed her way up the stairs. By the time she made it to Tanner’s room, her stomach was clenching and growling angrily at her, demanding food. It was kind of strange, she thought, feeling as if she had earned the food she’d bought. Before the Massacre, food was a commonplace luxury, something she had taken for granted. Now, after her exercise, those meagre almond cookies felt like a fantastical fesat. She wondered if there was anything Hal the baker needed… soap, a manual toothbrush… anything at all. She wanted to thank him for all he did for her, and for so many others.
The hallway harbouring room 102C was crowded with doctors and nurses, some wheeling other patients around in wheelchairs or on gourneys, others leaning on their companion’s shoulders. Soft sobs could be heard up and down the hall, the doctors overworked, overtired and overwhelmed. Wincing, Mandy shot them a sympathetic look, knowing there was little to nothing she could do to help, before ducking into her new friend’s room.
“Knock, knock.” She murmured, lightly rapping her knuckles on the doorframe.
Tanner, sitting up in bed, glanced her way, his face lighting up when he spotted her.
“Mandy!” He cheered, waving her over with his left hand. “Come in, come in. Have a seat. How are you? How are things outside? How’s Piper?”
“Whoa, whoa… settle down there, buddy. You don’t wanna pull a muscle or something.”
“From asking questions? Please. I’m made of stronger stuff than that.” He scoffed, rolling his green eyes.
Mandy laughed lowly. “Says the guy with half his right-hand side bandaged up.”
Tanner scowled, shaking his head slowly. “Yeah, well… that won’t be for long. They’ve already taken bone marrow samples from me, so I think they’re going to use the stem cells in the marrow to grow me new muscles, tendons, bones and skin. My arm will be back to normal in no time!”
“Uh huh. Good to hear buddy. Hey, you hungry?”
“Always!”
Pulling out the cookies, Mandy grabbed a small table attached to the side of Tanner’s bed by a large, metal swinging arm. A lot like a desk chair in a college lecture hall. Swinging it in front of him, she set the cookies down on the smooth, white table top.
“Ooh, cookies! Where did you manage to get these? I’ve been living off military-style MREs for the last few weeks when they said it was safe for me to eat solid food. Did I tell you how bad these things are -”
“For your bowels? Yes. At least twenty times, man. I really don’t need to hear about your constipation issues today. Which is why I’m offering you cookies… even though you’re not supposed to have them.”
“Ah. Right. Sorry. But thanks.” His cheeks burned, and Mandy smirked. For some reason, seeing her friend flustered was weirdly enjoyable. She had no idea why.
Popping the container open, Mandy nudged it towards him, watching as Tanner grabbed a cookie with his left hand.
“As for your million and one questions,” she sighed, grabbing a cookie for herself. “I haven’t seen Piper today, so as far as I know, she’s the same as yesterday. Comatose, intubated, still on fluids, still on the brink of a turn for the worse. But hopefully, she’ll be better today. As for outside… it’s insane, man. Utterly insane. I…”
Mandy swallowed a lump in her throat, shivering. “I don’t wanna take about it,”
Tanner nodded, placing his half-eaten cookie on the table, reaching out to pat her right hand with his left. His eyes were wide behind is orange-framed glasses, filled with the deepest empathy Mandy had ever seen.
“I understand,” he said, voice soft, yet hoarse.
“Thanks,”
“How about answering my last question, eh? How are you, Mandy?”
“I’m… I’m not good,” she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. “My apartment is mostly intact, but my living room is gone. I’m bathing in my neighbours back courtyard, and none of us know how to cook food properly. We’ve built a well in our street… it’s crazy. It’s all just - INSANE!”
She stood, suddenly, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her hands shook, heart racing, vision swimming with tears and rage.
“All of this is so messed up, it’s not funny. I wish - I wish I could go back in time to two weeks ago and just - just kill him. You know? Just… grab a big ol’ mallet and bash Ares’ stupid head off his stupid body! Then the Pin puppet would fall to the ground, and it’d be over. All over. The Gen 6 would just be boring old Q-Bots, and I’d be in jail for ‘murdering’ Justin Pin, but who cares? Who gives a damn about me? None of this bullsh*t would be happening, the world would be good and… and…”
She stopped, doubling over, hugging herself tightly as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, choking through her clogged throat. Her breathing rattled through her clogged lungs, every hacking cough tasting like ash and decay.
The table creaked as it settled away from the centre of the bed, Tanner grunting as he shoved himself to the side of the mattress. Mandy jumped when she felt his large, warm fingers lightly brush the back of her hand, spinning around so her tear-stained brown eyes met his oh-so-sad green ones.
“I understand,” he said again. “There were days - before all this happened - when I wanted to kill Ares, too. I would imagine myself just… yeah. Grabbing something heavy, like a mallet, and smashing his head off his body. The dumb thing is… seeing him puppeteer the body of my best friend always stopped me. I thought… I thought that maybe Justin was still in there, somewhere, and if I killed Ares, I’d lose the last link to my best friend. It was stupid, I know, but… yeah. The point is… I know how you feel, Mandy. But please, don’t blame yourself for any of this. You couldn’t have known. Nobody knew. I bet every single person who worked for I.Q are feeling the same way. Like they should have known. Like they should have done something. Or that they could have done something. Hey, maybe some psychiatrist will even name a new kind of trauma after this, and our old workplace, who knows? The point is… there is nothing you could have done. That’s what you said to me. And it’s true for you, too. The main thing you can do now, is… is… c’mon, you said it to me, three weeks ago. Remember?”
Sniffling, Mandy squeezed his hand, choking out a small, sobbing laugh. “The main thing I can do now is focus on helping the people that are here… rather than dwelling on the past. Yeah, I remember.”
Smiling down at him, she reached down, hugging him close. She had no idea why she did it, and no idea why her heart jumped in her chest as she did, but whatever. Pulling back, Mandy chuckled, lightly punching Tanner on his good arm.
“Thanks, buddy. I needed to hear that.”
“You’re welco -”
“Dr. Tanner Rice!” A voice called, exasperatedly, from the doorway.
Tanner shrieked, flinching back, flopping against his pillows. Mandy gaped at him. She’d seen him do that over the last few weeks, flinching only when someone said his name with his title. Frowning, Mandy made a mental note to ask why he freaked out so much when people did that.
As for right now, the Doctor in the doorway cut an imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, with brown eyes half-lidded with disdain over his single-use surgical mask. His arms were crossed over his scrubs, left foot tapping against the linoleum floor.
“I thought we told you, ‘No sugar’, Dr. Tanner Rice.”
“P-please… don’t call me that.” Tanner croaked; face suddenly pale.
“Er, don’t call you by your name?”
“N-no… just… d-don’t… don’t use my title, then my name. Please.”
The doctor stared, before shrugging. “OK, I’ll make a not on your chart. But seriously, Dr. - Tanner - I mean. Ugh. What do you want me to call you?”
“Er… just ‘Tanner’ or ‘Dr. Rice’ is fine. But not all together.”
“OK… very well then. Tanner, we did say no sugar for you. And what are you eating?”
“Um…” Tanner’s cheeks burned, and Mandy winced. This wasn’t nearly as amusing as it was when SHE made him blush. “Almond cookies?”
“Which contain…?”
“Sugar?”
“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! Where did you get these?”
Mandy sighed, raising her right hand in the air. “Guilty as charged, Doc.”
The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And did Dr. Rice tell you he couldn’t have sugar?”
“Yes…”
“Then I’m afraid you’re both the transgressors in this situation.” The doctor said, sternly.
Mandy sighed, hanging her head.
From the bed, Tanner flashed a small smile. “Give them to Piper, Mandy. If she’s awake and wants them, at least.”
Mandy nodded, popping the lid back on the container, stuffing it back into her bag.
“What about your cookie?”
“Er…” he frowned, holding out the half-eaten snack. “Would you like it?”
Mandy cringed away. “Ew, no! Don’t be gross, man.”
The doctor chuckled, striding to the end of Tanner’s bed, grabbing his chart. “OK, just this once, you can finish the cookie. But from now on - NO SUGAR. Do you understand, Dr. Rice?”
“Yes... I understand.”
“Good. Now, we’d better go. You’re due for another blood test, and another scan on your arm to check healing.”
“Alright,” Tanner sighed, nodding slowly. “Bye Mandy, thanks for the cookies.”
“You’re… welcome, I think. I’ll uh… I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Tanner smiled, as the doctor helped him into a wheelchair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mandy desperately tried to ignore the way her heart flip-flopped in her chest when he smiled at her, resolutely staring at the signs that pointed back to the waiting room as she made her way to the Emergency Department.
That part of the hospital was far more crowded than the General Admissions area. Doctors and nurses bustled about, their faces contorted with stress and exhaustion. Monitors beeped and blared from various rooms, all packed full of standard hospital beds, mats on the floor or fold-out cots. Getting herself signed in as visiting a patient, Mandy made her way to Piper’s room.
On the day of her admission Piper had been shoved into a shared room with many people suffering burns and explosion-related injuries. After four days, when the doctors had determined that Piper’s injuries had nothing to do with the Massacre, they’d moved her to an empty room, cleared out when a group of patients, who no longer needed immediate care, were sent across to the main hospital. Shuffling her way through the bustling, buzzing halls, Mandy intercepted the nice nurse - Nora - who had helped Piper get into the hospital three weeks ago.
“Hey Nora,”
“Oh, hey Mandy. Here to see Piper?”
“Yeah, is she doing OK?”
“So far, yes. No changes from yesterday. Although - and I’m glad you’re here, because I wanted to talk to you about this - the scans we ran yesterday have shown something strange.”
Mandy stopped, frowning at the nurse, who, like the doctor who had attended Tanner, had her face covered by a mask.
“What sort of strange something?”
“I… we don’t know. They couldn’t get samples - it wouldn’t go into a syringe. It was like, solid, somehow. Definitely metallic. Localised in the base of her spine, winding its way up to her brain stem. It seems the parts around the brain stem have fractured, and scattered through her neck. We…” Nora’s mask shifted, and Mandy could imagine her biting her lip. “We’re thinking… we’re thinking it might be uh… robotic, in nature.”
“What, like… micro-bots or something?”
Nora shook her head. “That’s not a thing. But nano-bots, those are a thing. Although if Piper has nano-bots inside of her, that raises a whole lot of issues. Security issues for us, questions about Ares - is he really gone? Or has he somehow transferred his consciousness into Piper? She’s unconscious, so we have no way of knowing what, if anything, is going on in her head. It’s… not good, Mandy.”
“Why… would she have nano-bots inside her?”
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Why would she not? Look at who raised her!”
Mandy nodded, feeling sick. “OK,” she croaked, swallowing a mouthful of burning bile. “Th-thanks for letting me know.”
Nora nodded too, twiddling her gloved thumbs. “Uh, normally I’d say ‘you’re welcome’, but…”
“Yeah. This information isn’t welcome.”
“No. It’s not. Uh, anyway, try not to let that put a damper on your visit. I know that Piper’s vital signs usually stabilise a bit when you’re there. Head doctor reckons it’s because, even comatose, she recognises a friend. Hopefully that means that things are gonna be OK.”
“Yeah, hopefully. See ya, Nora.”
“Bye,”
They nodded at one another, heading in opposing directions. Nora headed back towards the hustle and bustle of a full room, while Mandy walked up the hallway towards Piper’s room. Her mind whirled as she walked, every step seeming to echo through the wide, white hallway. Why would Piper have nano-bots inside her body? What did it mean? Was Ares somehow still alive? Would he exact revenge on humanity and destroy them all through the body of a little girl?
Well, if he did, no one would suspect it. Piper’s personality, Mandy imagined, would be easy to mimic. Quiet, anxious, shy, fleeting smiles and fiddling fingers. No one would suspect a tiny, innocent waif of a girl to commit genocide.
Shoving her own anxieties away, Mandy peered through the small window of the door to room15.
“Hey, Piper. It’s me sweetie, it’s Mandy. Can I come in?”
Piper lay on her narrow bed, looking more like a science experiment than a child. Her long, dark blonde hair had been shaved to mere stubble on her scalp, allowing for a cap of electrodes to wreath her head in a strange halo. She was intubated, a machine to the left of her bed breathing for her. Other tubes and wires were connected to her arms, a feeding tube to her stomach. She looked pale and thin, almost dead.
Mandy winced, easing the door open. She was greeted by the hiss of a respirator, the soft beep of a heart rate monitor. Crossing to a small, plastic chair to the right of the girl’s bed, Mandy sat, swinging her backpack onto the floor. With trembling hands, she gently grasped the thin, limp fingers of Piper’s right hand.
“Hey sweetie,” Mandy whispered, gently squeezing. “It’s Mandy.”
The respirator hissed, the heart rate monitor beeped. Mandy grimaced into the medicated silence.
“It’s been three weeks exactly since the Massacre,” Mandy murmured. “And things are still… still bad. People are homeless, there’s not enough food – and if there IS food, the prices are insanely high. I… I can’t reach my family, and I hate it. I’m scared for them, you know?”
The oxygen saturation level on one of the machines ticked up a notch. Mandy smiled.
“I know you do, you’re wiser than your years, and incredibly kind. But, we need to figure out what’s going on with this metal in your spine. The doctors will let me know when they come to a decision, though.”
Piper’s left foot stuck out from her powder-blue blankets. Was it a trick of the light, or did her big toe just twitch?
“I brought you some almond cookies, but it doesn’t look like you’re in any state to eat them now. Sorry kiddo. Well, when you’re awake, and better, you can have some. I’ll get more. I promise.”
Giving the girl’s hand one last squeeze, Mandy regarded her sadly. She’d promised to help her, but… she didn’t feel like she was doing a good job.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Mandy left Piper’s room, making a beeline for the bathrooms. After relieving herself, she was further relieved to see that the hospital not only had some electricity back, but also access to running water. Splashing after on her face, Mandy winced at her reflection. Her hair was growing back out the roots showing up starkly black against the red dye. Her eyebrows were growing back in too, all black, bushy, and generally disgusting. Grimacing, Mandy shook her head. As much as she wanted to re-dye her hair and pluck out her gross black eyebrows… there was no point. Why should she look like the secretary of a global technology company when the world had just gone through an apocalyptic disaster? There was no need. As much as it physically pained her to admit, looking like a gross hobo was worth it right now. Trying to look pretty would only draw attention to herself.
Leaving the bathroom, Mandy’s thoughts wandered back to Piper. The girl looked so small and lonely in her hospital room. And when she woke up, Mandy imagined she would be scared. But what could she do, or give her, to provide comfort and security? A sense of safety? Maybe… a stuffed animal or something? Mandy meandered her way back to the ED’s waiting room, thinking back. She hadn’t seen the inside of Piper’s room when she had arrived at her apartment the night of the Massacre, the door had been locked. Did the girl have stuffed toys? Things she could cuddle or snuggle with? Coming to a decision, Mandy picked up her pace, hardly smelling the stench of ash, burnt wires and decay as she burst into the afternoon sun.
As she left the Hospital, Mandy called her brother one more time. Maybe this time she would through… please... please…
“Hi,” her brother’s voice chimed happily.
“Steve! Hey, thank god, I -”
“You’ve reached Stephen Liang. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you shortly.”
BEEP.
Mandy gulped, tears stinging her eyes. Well. At least it wasn’t a busy signal this time. At least she’d gotten through to voicemail.
“H-hey Steve, it’s Mandy. Uh, I -j-just wanted to see how you, Angie and Liam are? I hope you guys are OK. I… I hope you’re… y’know, alive. I-if you get this, please call me back as soon as you can. I love you, all of you. Bye.”
Hanging up, Mandy swiped at her eyes. As she made her way back to the Mall, a patch of bright, new graffiti caught her eyes. Spray-painted on a sliding door was a stick figure with spiky purple hair, standing beside a white blob with a green face. Two human police officers stood alongside a group of youths, their clothes ratty and torn, faces smudged with filth.
“You gonna tell me where you got the inspiration for this?” An officer asked one of the boys.
“The internet, duh.” He laughed, his friends guffawing behind them.
The officer leaned over to his comrade, murmuring. If it weren’t for the direction of the wind carrying his words to her, Mandy wouldn’t have heard what he said.
“We really need to nip this in the bud. Or else the Su’s won’t have a chance at integrating into a normal life after this…”
“Affirmative, boss.”
Averting her gaze, Mandy hurried past. She had no idea who the “Su’s” were, but she had heard rumours that Ares was beheaded by a girl with purple hair. Was it the same girl who came up on clips from the news of the rogue robot a month ago? Maybe.
When she arrived at the Mall, Mandy made a beeline for the toy store across the hall from the I.Q vending machine. Like that morning, a queue had formed around a corner, desperate people still lining up for the machine’s spring rolls. Mandy gaged, feeling another rush of gratitude towards Hal the baker and his almond cookies. Entering the toy store, Mandy knocked on the counter, waiting for the woman she’d angered that morning to arrive.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, just gimme a - YOU!” The woman gasped, her hazel eyes narrowing into a glare.
“Hi, uh, yeah. Me.”
“You come to hold up another line, bitch?”
“Uh, no. Actually, I’m here to buy a toy.”
“You’re here to… are you serious?”
“Yes, I am. Uh… what do you have in your stuffed animals?”
The woman narrowed her eyes again, crossing her arms. “Why do you want a stuffed animal?”
“I… it’s for my uh… for a kid I took to the hospital the night of the Massacre. She… she needs comfort.”
The woman softened, her arms falling to her sides. “Oh. Yeah. OK. I, uh, I know what that’s like.”
Mandy didn’t miss the way the woman’s eyes darted to a back room, the door slightly ajar behind the counter. She could see through the crack in the door, a small fold-out cot, and a backpack. Hiding a sympathetic wince, Mandy followed the woman to an aisle filled to the brim with fluffy toys. She browsed through them, eyeing off sloths, otters, bears, dogs, cats, lizards, unicorns, penguins… all manner of real and fictional animals, until her eyes landed on one. A panda bear, as big as a toddler, sat at the top of a shelf, its amber-coloured eyes gazing down at her.
“See anything you like?” The woman asked.
“Yeah, that panda.”
“Panda? OK, sure. Let me get it down for you.” Dragging a small ladder over, the woman stepped up to the top rung, grabbing the panda and handing it to Mandy.
“There you go. Hope the kid likes it.”
“Yeah. She’s… I don’t think she’s ever had a stuffed animal before, and she’s kinda lost everything so… hopefully this’ll comfort her some.”
The woman nodded, leading Mandy back to the counter. “I hope so too. I get it.”
She glanced towards the back room again, ringing up the panda. Mandy bit her lip, shifting from foot-to-foot. She didn’t know this woman. She was openly hostile and antagonistic that morning. But… she still needed help. She, like everyone, had lost so much. Steeling herself, Mandy grabbed out the notepad and crayon Piper had used to write notes on. Turning to a new page, Mandy scrawled her address in the bottom corner, ripping it off and handing it to the woman.
“Look, I don’t mean to, like, intrude on your situation, but uh, if you need a place to stay, you can come and crash at my place. I have a spare room; my neighbours and I have a sweet commune kinda set-up going and… yeah. It’ll… it’ll be better than being here, on your own. The food’s not that great, you have to bathe outdoors for now, but… it’s better than nothing, I guess.”
The woman gaped, accepting the scrap of paper with trembling fingers. Her hazel eyes welled with tears, her lips trembling.
“I… I… th-thanks. I… my husband… my kids…” shuddering, the woman closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. “Thank you. I’ll uh... here’s my number.”
She offered Mandy an old-fashioned paper business card which read: Joy’s Toy Emporium listing her phone number and email address below her name. Mandy offered a small smile.
“Thanks, Joy. If you want a new place to crash… give me a call. Or, if the line’s busy, just... just show up. Tell my neighbours you’re with me - my name is Mandy Liang. It’ll be fine.”
Joy nodded, swiping tears away from her eyes. “OK, thanks. I, uh, I hope the kid likes her panda.”
“Thanks. Me too. See you around, Joy.”
“Bye… Mandy.”
Mandy smiled, waving at Joy, her new... friend? Geez, what was it about the end of the world that had her making friends like a normal person instead of a dysfunctional drunk woman in her 40s? Whatever, it was… actually kind of nice to make friends like this. The circ*mstances sucked, but… not being at a bar was a nice change of pace. Heading back to the hospital, Mandy grinned. She had a toy to deliver and a yellow vest to don. It was time to stop numbly staring at vending machines and start helping people!
