“Dravo called again.” An unfamiliar man’s voice drifted to me, muffled and distant, like something from a dream. It was cold in this dream.

  “Senior or Junior?” a gruff male voice replied.

  “Junior. Wants to see his wife,” the younger man answered.

  “I already told him we’d get her prepped for tomorrow. How’s it comin’?”

  “I reset her leg and cleaned her up as best I could, but…”

  “What? She’s gotta look about a thousand bucks. That’s what he’s payin’ us.”

  “Oh sure. Sure. She’s still soaring… as long as you’re not looking at her face.”

  “Shit, man. Have some respect.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault she sprinted in front of a Fastcar. Dravo’s lucky she still got a head! Most sprinters get fully flattened.”

  “Yeah. Ghastly way to go. Initial tox screen come back?”

  “Yup, but it just says ‘sample insufficient for testing.’ No request for another sample.”

  “Figures. That’s how these elite protect their reputations.”

  “Illicit substances?”

  “Almost definitely.”

  “Shame. She was cosmic. Should I take her out the fridge now? You gonna get to her tonight?”

  “Sure. Got these six others to work through first.”

  A few moments later, a door opened with a heavy suction sound. I felt my body moving, like I was floating seamlessly through the air. Metal tires squeaked, rolling across the sticky floor beneath us. Shadows floated across my closed eyes as the light changed on the other side of my eyelids. The dream smelled oddly of fresh beef.

  My skin began to tingle all over in painful pins and needles, as if every limb were waking at once. I started seeing stars across the red backdrop of my eyelids. Awareness of the cold metal beneath my body slowly registered. There was music playing all around, but I couldn’t quite discern it. The fast whirring of mechanical instruments echoed in the distance. Eventually, I was moving again.

  I came to an abrupt stop, and I felt fingers brush past my arm. The music was close now. Slow drums and a mournful electric guitar chord reverberated around me, stretching and fading through the air like wisps of smoke. A distant, haunting male voice drifted over it, soft and hollow.

  “Hello? Can anyone hear me? If you’re there, give me a sign.”

  Metal clanged beside me. The voice sang, “Come on…I can feel your weight, your struggle. Let me help you bear it. You won’t stay down for long.”

  Water ran into a nearby sink. The electric beats continued to pulse around me with slow consistency.

  “Calm down…Can you show me where it aches?”

  The wheels of a chair were moving back and forth near me followed by a strong cinnamon scent. The singer’s voice rang up an octave, “There’s no pain only drifting. Your lips move… but the words don’t reach me.”

  The grunts of an old man and the snapping of elastic gloves followed. He cleared his throat and said, “Beginning internal examination. Standard Y-incision.”

  “I am peacefully numb.”

  A holophone rang at the moment I felt a sharp prick near my shoulder. The gruff man sighed heavily and metal clattered like he dropped something on a nearby tray. There was a hurried snapping of elastic, and the whooshing sound of a trash can lid. His footsteps faded away with the music still playing. The guitar solo electrified the air around me.

  My fingers tapped spastically against the cold metal beneath me. I tried to open my eyes, but the overhead lights blinded me. I blinked rapidly and started shifting my stiff neck. My breath came fast now. My whole body ached in a way I’d never felt before, and I started shivering uncontrollably. I hugged my arms tight to my bare chest and curled sideways on the table, hugging my bare legs. That’s when I realized I was fully exposed.

  And I wasn’t alone.

  My damp skin pulled uncomfortably from the cold steel when I propped myself up. I looked around the sterile autopsy room. Identical tables lined the walls with undressed bodies in various states of disrepair. I shut my eyes against the scene, trying to forget them, and turned to study the distance to the tiled floor, its drains unsettling.

  With a loud groan, I slid down from the table. I fell to the floor as my leg buckled before my brain could even register the pain. I muffled a scream into the crook of my elbow. The music still played loudly throughout the room.

  The floor was cold on my exposed skin. My fractured leg throbbed beneath the lazy stitches. Swelling and bruising painted unnatural colors across my body, stark against my ghostly pale skin. Someone had tried to patch the skin on my arm, but it was bubbly and loose.

  “Dr. Dravo, I understand what you’re asking, but the request is highly unusual. The law is clear on this. Incineration directly follows the post-mortem,” The gruff man spoke animatedly from behind a closed office door.

  Fear crept over me before I comprehended the words. My heart started racing in new determination from the mention of Dravo. From the floor, I was at eye level with the open shelf attached to my table. A clear plastic bag labeled, “Personal” was filled with my clothing.

  “Forgo the post-mortem? Sir, that’s interfering with an ongoing investigation. I could lose my license,” the gruff man loudly protested.

  Nerves all over my body screamed as I reached for the clothing bag, but I pushed through the pain, fueled by adrenaline. I zipped up my thin jacket, torn and crusted with blood, but still functional. Then I wiggled into my jeans, keeping my leg as still as possible. I didn’t bother with undergarments or shoes, but I did take the lab coat hanging from the back of the wheely chair I’d heard earlier. The gruff man’s badge was clipped to the pocket. Convenient.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Fifty thousand? Alright, alright. Once I’ve got the paperwork, I’ll sign off, and you can pick up the body,” I overheard the gruff man concede as I used the wheely chair to support my broken leg as I scootered past the door to the exit.

  Thankfully, the exit signs were clearly lit. I used the badge to access the doors. Outside, it was dark and extremely cold. The temperature had dropped since my accident. Typical.

  Accident? That might not be the right word.

  The medical examiner’s office was in Boston’s South End. It was owned and operated by ViraRx now. I knew this area well from my childhood, watching Mom’s guest lectures at the medical school nearby.

  The adrenaline began to wear off. Sharp aches radiated all over and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. The air was too cold. I was losing feeling in my toes and fingers. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go much further.

  I managed to wheel myself a couple of blocks to the dimly lit Franklin Square. It was a modest park with a central fountain surrounded by benches. Defeated, I laid down on an empty bench. Looking up into the sky, I saw a handful of shooting stars. That was odd. Usually clouds of pollution obscured the sky, let alone display a plethora of falling stars.

  Maybe a meteor shower?

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A woman in her forties followed closely by a young girl, around twelve years old, approached me. “The news says they’re decommissioned satellites.”

  I smiled and laughed weakly. How absurd normal small talk felt.

  “Do you want me to call someone for you?” she asked.

  “No…” my voice was barely audible. “Too…dangerous.”

  “Okay,” she was serious. “You’ll come with us then.”

  I started to protest, but she cut me off, “You’ll freeze to death here.”

  She helped me to my feet and supported me on one side while her daughter supported me on the other. She introduced herself as Sara, and her daughter as Ruth. They interlocked their arms, forming a square-shaped platform where I sat as they carried me two blocks down the road to their apartment. The old brick fa?ade had faded, and the concrete steps were worn in places.

  Inside, it was small and dark but very warm. The living, kitchen, and dining space were all combined. There was one small bathroom off the main room, and what appeared to be two bedrooms.

  Sara spoke to Ruth in what I recognized as Spanish, but I didn’t understand it. Ruth returned with a first aid kit. Sara pulled out an old-fashioned blood pressure cuff and stethoscope and started taking my vitals.

  She sent Ruth to get ready for bed while she checked me over, attending to the various cuts and contusions with practiced hands.

  “Nurse?” I asked.

  Sara nodded. She bandaged my arm where the skin wasn’t adhering well and sanitized and dressed my other wounds. She offered me water and food. I thanked her for the water but couldn’t bring myself to eat.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have anything stronger for pain, but this should help some,” Sara spoke kindly handing me two pills, “Can you feel my touch on your fingers?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. It’s hard to tell if this discoloration is from the cold or… your ordeal.”

  I nodded again. After a short rest, Sara helped me to the bathroom and got me into clean clothes before settling me back on the couch for the night.

  “Will he be looking for you?” Sara asked as she tucked me into the couch.

  “I don't know,” I replied.

  She chose her words carefully, “I know what this pain feels like… my husband only stopped, when he was forced to stop. If you need any help… I have a church.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t ask you to get involved, you have a daughter,” I said gesturing to Ruth’s bedroom. “I just need to get away from the city.”

  “We can help with that,” she smiled. “Rest for now.”

  I’m not sure I had a choice. I couldn’t fight the exhaustion any longer if I wanted to. It wasn’t a restful sleep. I was woken by my body shaking and trembling periodically throughout the night. The pain came in waves. Too much to ignore. I shook in agony until exhaustion won again.

  When morning came, I was relieved to be feeling better. I even dared to put weight on my foot. I didn’t immediately collapse. Progress.

  I limped to the bathroom by myself, and for the first time, looked in a mirror. I instantly closed my eyes, took a breath, and tried to look again. It was hard to stomach. Most of my face was swollen. One eye was swollen shut. I had lost a good amount of scalp and hair on that side of my head as well. Someone had tried to replace the skin there too. My nose was misaligned giving me a sharp crook. Miraculously, my teeth were all intact, though some were painfully loose. I was unrecognizable.

  The mirror was attached to a medicine cabinet. My hands shook as I opened it and found the painkillers. I swallowed six pills this time.

  Sara made me a soft breakfast. After we ate, Sara and Ruth helped me into a hired car. She had found some old crutches in her closet and gave them to me. Sara said the driver was a friend from ‘church’ and she paid him to take me to Newton, a suburb outside of Boston, where my parents lived. The car didn’t have tracking plates either, but I didn’t ask why. I just said thanks and told them how grateful I was for their kindness.

  I had the driver pull over at the street behind my parent’s house. There were woods separating the houses. I thought it would be safer to go through the neighbor’s yard to the back door of my parent's house.

  The streets were quiet for almost noon, and the air was piercingly cold again. Sara had given me her spare parka and gloves. I pulled the hood up tight around my face, and crouched in the woods. Then, I noticed black SUVs out front.

  The dread was instant. Julius was walking toward the house holding a plain metal canister. The same kind Sophie came home in. Several men accompanied him. Derek wasn't among them.

  I sank to the ground. Cold and wet seeped through my linen pants. They're watching the house.

  I had nowhere left to turn.

  The smell and taste of leather muffled the scream I let out when a hand grabbed my mouth from behind and another arm wrapped around my torso. I thrashed and the arm tightened like a boa constrictor around prey.

  “Miss, Miss, Miss. I’ll let you go if you promise not to scream,” Harry’s voice whispered into my ear, “Trust me.”

  I stopped struggling. Harry slowly released me and walked around to face me, crouching to my eye level.

  I shook with fear. He was loyal to the Dravos. I knew he was going to turn me over to Julius. He brushed some of my hair aside with a look of sympathy entangled with grief.

  “Please,” I begged. “I just want to go home.”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss,” he said sincerely. “But this isn’t your home anymore.”

  “He’s going to kill me, Harry,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.

  “You’re already dead, Miss,” he said, wiping my cheeks. “And I’m going to help you stay that way.”

  ***

  "Order! Order! I will have order in my Courtroom," shouts Judge P1-L8 bringing down his gavel on his bench. The buzz of the courtroom quiets.

  "Your Honor, at this time I would like to submit Exhibit B as evidence for the Tribunal," requests Faith, displaying holographic documents with the wave of her hand.

  "This is the death certificate of Mia Alden Dravo dated January 2, 2053, along with the medical examiner’s report," Faith continues. "I want to draw your attention to the medical examiner’s notes: ‘Decedent pronounced deceased at scene. Post-mortem examination determined cause of death to be catastrophic blunt force trauma consistent with high-velocity impact involving an autonomous Fastcar. Manner of death: Suicide. Remains released for cremation following autopsy in accordance with statutory requirements.' This report was signed and dated January 3, 2053. Everly, do you affirm that you are Mia Alden Dravo, the decedent referenced in this report?”

  "I do."

  "Objection, Your Honor!" Daniel shouts from his podium. "I don't appreciate counsel's insinuation that ViraRx was somehow responsible for this accident. This is pure speculation by the witness and should be struck from the record. The accident could easily have been caused by a software malfunction in the early days of autonomous travel."

  "And the fraudulent report?" Faith challenges.

  "It's an obvious clerical error. A miscommunication among overworked staff. After all, Mia Alden did die,”

  Well, mostly dead isn’t the same as all dead.

  “but her symbiotic nanobot alterations restored her. Accelerated her healing beyond comprehension. An unintended outcome far outside the limits of human biology.”

  Accurate.

  “An outcome ViraRx sought to conceal for centuries, and in doing so, radicalized a new group of insurrectionists. Now you recklessly seek to dehumanize their lead operative,” Faith rebukes.

  “Humans aren’t immortal.”

  “Until now.”

  “That is for this Tribunal to decide, Counselors,” the Squat Judge loudly interjects. “This Court will need to hear the rest of the witness’s testimony to ascertain the legitimacy of either claim.”

  “Of course, Your Honor,” Faith reluctantly turns back to me, “Please describe for the Court how you became Everly and the atrocities that followed.”