1. 6 - Swell Sickness

The Industrial Complex.

Tuesday - morning.

Modun found his way home on autopilot, too wrapped up in his own glitches to take note of where he was. He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t clear his head. The sight of all those broken Units, the sound of their cries. The whimpering, simpering Lord, looking so much like a scared Unit. He could not get them out of his processor, whirling like a cyclone, a mess of terror and regret and confusion that he just could not understand.

Not for the first time, he wished he didn’t have a biological computational system. Proper cybernetic robots like the Boss Units had much more efficient brains that didn’t do stuff like this to them.

Panting, he climbed his way up the ladders built into the fronts of other domis, up the tiered, ramshackle structure that had grown over the passing generations of Units. Modun’s settlement was built against the base of a Column, clustered there like acorns piled at the base of a mighty tree. The Bosses didn’t interfere with Units building domis, so long as they were built off the clock, out of the way, from scrap materials.

Awareness returned when he stood in his front room, his breath ragged. The darkness helped ease the burden, helped him feel safe to just stand and breathe with no one watching.

Bosses had been here. The door to the back room was open, the insulation shredded, his infested pallet torn and tossed about, his hand-made electric heater mangled.

But the Bosses hadn’t found what they were looking for. They had come for Addie.

Modun rapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. Why had he come here? Addie wasn’t here, and Addie was what he wanted.

Crankin’ auto-pilot. My brain’s too glitchy with all this muck. Embarrassment, confusion, excitement, terror. I need to sleep it all off. With Addie warm and safe in my arms.

Modun left his own domi, climbed two more tiers further up, cautiously scanned for watching eyes, and lifted a panel of rubbish between two domis. He ducked into the crawl space and shimmied through the dark, his under-Deck eyes adjusting quickly to the gloom. Back and back, through zigs and zags, deep into the old, buried heart of the settlement.

When they’d discovered Addie’s condition they had both grown desperate to protect her, to keep her alive. Not an easy thing to do when the Bosses controlled everything, and any sane Unit would turn her in without a second thought. Better to be a snitch than to be seen as an accomplice. They’d found friends, though, old Onetooth and a couple of Units who’d seen what was happening to Addie and offered help rather than exposure. It seemed Janks now counted among them.

Modun didn’t know who had built this bolt-hole into the settlement. The passage pushed back through decades of buried construction. He came to the end and dropped down a few feet into a space like a pit. Scant light flowed in from a murky plastic sheet; the skylight was at the bottom of a shaft stories high, a communal chimney.

There was a door at the back wall, cracked open and lined with golden light.

He entered the room, opening and closing the door quickly to keep the heat in. The little room had four simple walls, made of scrap metal sheeting and plastic panels pilfered from the recycling heaps. He had lined the walls with tight-taped layers of tarp and cloth. That, along with being crammed into the jumble of other domis, made for excellent insulation.

She had been cleaning again. He could tell; everything just in place, rips in the insulation patched up. She’d spent the night with the windows to the chimney open, airing out the musty room. There were new shape-things hanging from the ceiling; twists of wire, cloth, circuitry and bright found objects which she worked together into unique shapes. She didn’t know why she made the shape-things. Modun figured it was just worker’s hands, seeking something to do.

She lay on the pallet, a nest of rare, soft things. Her back was too him. He stared at her for a moment, watched her side shift as she breathed slowly.

A little ripple of calm washed through him, working against the tide of desperation.

Finally finding what he needed, what he hoped would ease his jangly brain, Modun shrugged out of his coveralls, cranked down the light and crawled onto the pallet. He fit himself to her warm body, needing the heat and the welcoming touch of soft places.

*****

It was not unusual for Units to pair up and share a Domi. It was crowded down in the Complex, and resources were limited. Most Units were free with plugging, eager to jump off for a quick session with whoever struck their fancy; Beard or Chin, Greener, Grimer or Tinker. But there were plenty of others who felt something else when they plugged. It was one of those things most didn’t really talk about. Why talk when there’s so little time between work?

Modun thought of the feeling as mine. Sometimes a Unit plugged up with another and found themselves chasing that same Unit for another plug. It wasn’t just about plugging – the whole brain just screams Mine! Some Units didn’t have that. They just plugged away in their off time with whoever; work, scum and dram, chase a plug, catch a sleep, and back to work.

Work is your function.

Modun and Addie were the other kind. They’d met by chance, bumping into each other one day in the mess. She never ate there; sly Greeners skimmed their own meals off the crops they tended, unless they wanted the company of the mess. Addie didn’t like loud places, but she’d been forced to come down when the Bosses were out on the Scrutiny, looking close and making it impossible for her to score her own fresh meal.

Her deep green eyes, brilliant in her dirt-smudged, pudgy face had incited severe lag in Modun’s thinker, followed by a powerful plug response. Once he got his brain past the glitch, he had taken notice of her discomfort. Smiling, he’d led her to a far corner of the noisy hall. They had eaten together, an awkward, giggly meal, sharing little bits about each other, touching casually.

She’d moved to his Domi, with her intricate shape-things and tinkly laughter, and never left. She had been something steady and good between Modun’s shifts until she caught the swell sickness.

*****

Addie woke at his touch, squirming to burrow back deeper into his arms. Modun kissed her neck softly, saying “Shh... keep sleeping. I just want to sleep.”

He slid his hand across her thigh, wanting warmth, but careful not to touch the swell. It was not exactly that it repulsed him; it should have, such a huge growth of sickness. What sickened him was that he wanted to touch it, to stroke it, to squeeze a little and feel the texture; firm or yielding? Some part of him was drawn to Addie’s swollen belly, and wanted to cherish it. That repulsed him. His own instincts disgusted him. So he sought her warmth, but kept far from touching her belly.

Soon, he hoped, she’ll get better, and it’ll go away. If we can just keep her hidden, keep her safe from the Bosses and their Hunters.

It was a rare condition, something like a huge cyst that formed in Chins sometimes. Beards never got it. It was more myth than anything; it never happened more than once in anyone’s memory. Something dangerous, something deadly; that’s why all the stories ended in the Bosses rending the swollen Unit when they found her.

Addie twisted over to kiss him. He returned it awkwardly, arching his back to keep her belly from touching him. She cut the kiss off short and rolled away.

“I hate that you won’t touch me anymore. Where have you been?”

Modun stroked her thigh. “No, no... I’ll touch you. Just... It... I...”

“You think I’m diseased.”

“Well... you are--”

“Where have you been?”

“Heavy night. Q’s were high. Sorry. Part of me wants to... you know, touch it... kind of... but I’m afraid. I--”

“Forget it.”

“There was an accident.”

“Anyone we know?”

“No. But... ah, I’ll tell you about it later. Addie?”

“Mmm?”

“You cleaned today. You aired the room, had the doors open, didn’t you?”

“It’s fine. I was careful.”

“You need to rest, if you want to beat this. Don’t work so hard. And you can’t let them see you. Remember what Onetooth said. The Bosses will rip--”

Her voice came back strong, all shreds of sleep lost. “I remember everything Old Onetooth said.”

Old age was another rare condition among the Biological Labor Units down in the sludge and muck and smog. Good care and regular maintenance could keep any machine running for a long time. Units received little enough of both. They were lucky to have eight hours off shift for every day, and they got that boon only because it played out better in the Bosses’ long-term cost-benefit analyses. Onetooth had been a crusty fluke; a Chin once, but she lived so long it was hard to tell. She just didn’t stop working, no matter what ached, so the Bosses never had reason to recycle her in the vats, send her useful proteins and molecules off to build up some fresh new Unit growing in its tube.

Onetooth had seen the swell before anyone else but Addie and Modun, and she’d been old enough to remember another victim of the sickness.

Addie looked him in the eye. “I think you’ve forgotten. This ain’t something that gets better. It ain’t a sickness. You remember? Remember what she said?”

“She’s just glitched in the brain. Shoulda been recycled a thousand shifts ago.”

Addie’s eyes narrowed. “So you do remember?”

Modun shook his head, the words coming back to him. Onetooth had told them “Hide and live. They got reasons to kill swellers so quick. I seen it. Was a friend of mine caught the swell. We hid her long as we could, but there’s only so much coveralls can do. Boss saw that bump of hers. Down came a Hunter, arms out, blades open. Sssching-sching! Tore her up faster’n a rat in a Big Lifter’s mitts.”

Modun shuddered at the memory, the words. They’d never hurt him before. Death was daily life down in the Complex, Units getting used up like any other machine. Those words never hurt before, but remembering them now, they came up vivid and terrible.

Onetooth had gone on; “I watched them tear her up, and I saw what was in that swell. No cyst. No pus.” Then she’d pointed at Addie’s own bulge. Her voice shrank to the barest whisper, the voice of blasphemers, hoping the Bosses would not hear if she were just quiet enough. “She’s a fruiting shrub. Just like a Lord.”

The Units had their own myths about the ones they called Lords, stories handed down from one batch of worker Units to the next, all the way back to the beginning of Work:

The Lords were not bound by the Earth, and ruled all the air, and all above the air. And so they lived above the Deck. The poisoned Earth was left to those who were fit for grime, servitude and toil.

The Lords were not bound by their hands, and moved all of creation with their minds alone. And so they completed great works. Drudgery was left to those who were fit for pain.

The Lords were not bound by machines, and created life from within their own bodies. And so they prospered in light. Darkness was left for those born of machines.

Modun could not accept Onetooth’s ramblings. To grow life was a Lordly trait, not one for mere Units. Mere things.

He envisioned the fallen Lord’s face, his body, thin and brown and much like his own, though lacking in muscle tone.

Modun shook his head. Lords looking like Units and Addie growing a new Unit in her just like a Lord – it was too much, too wrong. Accepting it would be too terrifying, so he had to reject it. “I can’t believe that. I will protect you. I will hide you until you are well, so you are not taken from me. But you can’t be--”

Tensing, hissing, Addie grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly. Modun tried to pull away, but Addie was strong as any Unit, and held him there.

“Feel it. Feel it!”

The skin was soft, warm, a yielding layer above something firm and strong. Modun panted, whined, cringing as old, ingrained lessons and fears roared in his mind. DANGER! INFECTION! RUN! But he could not run, could not fight free of Addie without hurting her.

“Modun, stop being such a new-make. I am listening to my components. I know what I can do. I know what’s happening. I feel it. Now stop worming and feel it.”

His breath was ragged in his own ears. For weeks he had hidden her here, smuggling her food, hoping for her to get better. All that time she had never spoken of this, never put him through this. His breath rasped, panting, afraid but a little ecstatic at the danger, and all the more repulsed for that.

And then his breath stopped. He froze, every muscle stilled from his core outward as something rose and moved under his hand. Something small, mighty and defiant. Something which could not be, but was.

Addie laughed, a sound not so light and dancing as normal. “This is not a sickness, Modun. This is life. And it’s coming out soon.”

The fear melted away, replaced by fascination. He brought his other hand to her belly. It was really there, really moving. Something else, growing inside her.

Life.

Addie’s shift fell open, and he looked at her, really saw her for the first time since the swell began. Fascination grew to arousal as his hands stroked her yielding belly. Addie took hold of his plugger, the sharpness draining from her features.

“H-hm. See? Your components can accept what your brain’s too dim to grasp. And your components know you like it!”