Gen One Read online

  Start Reading

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Thank You

  Other Books by Amy Bartelloni

  Table of contents

  Copyright

  To everyone who feels like giving up.

  This book is the realization of a lifetime of dreams.

  You can do it.

  Delilah adjusted a stray brown curl under her cap as she hopped the rail line, balancing on the iron for a few seconds before she landed on the side of the tracks that marked the boundary from the Rez to the forbidden lands. Heavy tree limbs hung over the tracks, their leaves still wide and full though it was almost the end of summer. A warm breeze rustled them and sent a few circling down, dancing on the wind before they landed on the rail, burying it even further. The line was barely visible, but past it the ruins of old towns were ripe for the picking, if you knew where to look. And she and Zane knew where to look.

  “Over here!” Gen called. The third member of their exploring party, Gen, was a first generation bot Zane had found in the dump and repaired. She appeared completely human, if you looked past the chip in her eye. Through their months of living together, Delilah had seen the bot express surprising emotions she shouldn’t have been capable of, and they had developed a true friendship. Gen ran a hand through her blonde hair, which was cut in a bob.

  Delilah backtracked to where Gen stood, a few paces off the path, and tapped the plastic item with the toe of her boot. It cracked into pieces.

  “Too flimsy,” Delilah commented. She bent down to pick up a corner of red plastic. Its function wasn’t even identifiable.

  Gen sighed, a decidedly human sound considering the bot didn’t need to take in air. “I was hoping to find something,” she said, peering down the tracks. It had been a lousy day to start. They’d been stopped by a bot patrol and lost a precious half hour while they checked Gen’s papers. As a result, they couldn’t go far enough out to find any real treasures, just metals barely decent enough to trade.

  Deep gray clouds moved over the sun, carrying a hint of rain. It was a long way home, especially soaking wet. Gen’s logistics were such that she could function wet, but the water slowed her and it would take forever to get back staying under the cover of trees.

  “Maybe we should call it a day.” Zane hopped off the tracks and walked into the woods, their deep cover swallowing his figure after only a few steps until only the black of his curly hair remained visible between the foliage. Delilah rolled her eyes at the telltale sound of him relieving himself and walked further off. She kicked a section of rail with her foot, and when the dust cleared, the end of a railway stake poked out. Delilah bent down and picked it up, wiping the dirt off with her fingers.

  Gen peered over her shoulder at the find, and her pupils narrowed as she considered. “Not worth much,” she calculated. Her V-neck t-shirt hung over her shoulder, and she adjusted the collar. Clothes that didn’t fit were common in the Rez, the small section of land the bots had given humans for residences. Delilah and Zane helped Gen fit in. It wasn’t illegal for humans to own Gen One and Two bots, but Zane had to come up with some pretty fancy forged papers. Delilah always let out a breath when they passed inspection.

  “I know.” Delilah straightened up just in time to hear a roll of thunder in the distance. At least she hoped the noise was thunder. It had been a long time since human forces had attempted to battle the bots in charge, and that had ended poorly. Any more subordination and the bots were sure to impose new rules, ones that wouldn’t allow them to dally out in the ruins. Rules that would make the forbidden lands more patrolled, without the hope of forage or trade. Sometimes those stolen hours with Zane were all Delilah had to look forward to.

  She caught sight of him coming out of the woods, his brown, ratty pants and tan t-shirt blending with the foliage. He’d grown up so much in the time since they’d been foraging. He was now a head taller than her, and his hard work in the trading post called the Banks had given him solid muscles. Sometimes she remembered him as the twelve-year-old boy who comforted her when her parents died one right after the other, but somewhere along the way, they’d grown up. Somewhere along the way, she’d developed feelings that went farther than friendship.

  Gen’s pupils rolled back in her head for the shortest of seconds. “A storm. In the distance. We have approximately thirty minutes.”

  “Great.” Zane clapped Delilah’s shoulder as he joined them. “Time enough for a stop at the Banks if we hurry.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes and pocketed the railway spike. Her long skirt concealed a hiding place, a useful item when they foraged. “To sell what?” The Banks was a popular trading post for humans on the banks of the river. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of the food they sold there, but one railway spike and a pocket full of antique scrap wouldn’t buy much. And anyway, Zane wouldn’t be looking for food. His purchases were more of the liquid kind. The drinking age of twenty-one was rarely enforced, because there wasn’t enough liquor to enforce it, and besides, Zane was only about eight months from his twentieth birthday anyway. At one year younger than him, Delilah had no desire to drink her life away. Though there wasn’t much to do with her life. The bots handed out jobs stingily. She was lucky to have work cleaning the boats that went back and forth to Authority City.

  Zane stood on the hill, propping a foot up on the rail. He gave her one of his half-smiles, the one that told her he was about to do something he shouldn’t, and probably drag her into it, as well. A lock of dark hair fell into his face.

  “Who says I have to sell anything?” he said with a wink.

  “You’re not stealing.” She stalked off, eyeing the horizon for a minute before deciding to turn back. There’d be other days, but she might not find anything then, either. Pickings were getting slimmer lately.

  Zane’s voice called after her. “What are you, my mother?”

  She didn’t bother to turn her head. “I don’t need to be your mother to tell you the punishment if you’re caught.” She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped. Zane’s mother had been taken away for just such a punishment, only she hadn’t survived. And since Zane never knew his father, he’d been on his own since. His breath hitched.

  “No. You don’t.” He jumped off the tracks to walk in the woods. He did that sometimes, though he always stayed in sight. He disappeared into the trees until he was out of earshot.

  “I wish I could help him,” Delilah said to Gen. Zane said he loved being free and unattached, but Delilah understood he was hurting because she was, too. She picked up her pace. A flash of lightning lit up the sky.

  “Twenty-three minutes,” Gen told them.

  “We better get a move on,” Delilah said. She took off her cap and a headful of auburn curls spilled halfway down her back before she put it back on. “Zane!” she called. It took a minute but he appeared from the brush with something in his hands and an honest to God smile on his face. He held the item in the air, one Delilah didn’t recognize, and she was familiar with a lot of the ancient technology.

  “No thievery necessary,” he said. “Not today.” He matched her quick pace. The hovels of the Rez loomed to the right—gray and depressing. On the other side of the river, the towers of Authority City rose into the sky.

  “What is it?” She examined the oval disc in Zane’s hand but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

  He turned the item around. “A hover disc. People used to play games with it. Throw and chase the thing, I guess.” He tossed the disc gently and it wobbled in the air, then began to fall. He caught it before the disc hit the ground.

  Delilah bit her bottom lip. Thunder rumbled, closer this time, and Gen took off at a slow
jog. “People sure used to have a lot of time on their hands,” she mumbled. The idea of things like hover discs was so far away from their lives right now. No one had time for such nonsense, even if they could get it to work. Not after the war. But, such technology was valuable in the right hands. She matched Gen’s pace, hoping they’d make it back in time, and thinking what they could trade for.

  “Yeah.” Zane laughed. “Probably didn’t even know how good they had it.” He tucked the disc under his arm and ran faster, but bringing up the war was enough to make Delilah slow down. There were more rumors than facts about that time now, but the end result was bot control of Authority City, and the human residences, called the Rez. If the bots’ control extended any further in the world, Delilah didn’t know. Communications with outside had broken down, and rumor was the war still raged in other areas. For them it was done. The uprising was over. The bots had won. She pressed on as the first drops of rain fell, and turned to Gen.

  “Will you be okay?” she asked.

  Gen attempted a smile. “Perhaps a little rusty,” she responded in her high-pitched voice, “but not if we hurry.”

  That was all it took for Zane to look over. The corner of his lip turned up.

  “Race ya,” he challenged. Delilah didn’t have time to answer before he took off at a run.

  “Well, he won’t beat me,” Gen said, but she kept her pace as slow as Delilah. She pressed forward, but she’d never beat Zane. Between his long legs, and his practice at running away, he had quite a head start.

  “I’ll stay with you, if you stay with me,” Delilah told Gen. Already Zane was twenty paces ahead and the distance was growing.

  “I’ll always stay with you, Delilah.” Gen hesitated. “If you wish it so.”

  Delilah sighed. This was the problem with the Gen One bots, and one of the reasons they were phased out. Their loyalty to their human owners could be overwhelming. As it was, she and Gen had an unusual relationship with Delilah helping the bot to be more independent. She thought Gen was capable of higher thought, emotion, even.

  Delilah’s breath started to come fast. The river widened on their right as the water prepared to empty into the ocean. It was only another half a mile or so to the Banks. A pale mist fell, but the sky was darker as the gray clouds moved in. It was unwise to be caught out in the dark. More than just bots roamed the woods.

  “I told you, Gen,” Delilah heaved. “I’m not your master.”

  “No.” Gen suffered no such breathing difficulties. Her footsteps echoed on the path. “You are my friend.”

  “Yes. Friend.” Delilah slowed down and grabbed her knees. Ahead of them, Zane slowed and taunted them, but Delilah needed a minute to get herself together before going into the lion’s den that was the Banks.

  “And friends don’t abandon each other,” Gen said with determination. She offered Delilah a hand. Delilah took it, feeling the bot’s soft skin, which would never wrinkle or harden, even if she did hard labor.

  “No.” Delilah agreed, watching Zane. “They don’t.”

  Zane jogged back to them, hardly looking winded, but wetter than she thought. She reached up and realized her cap was soaked. She took it off and stuffed it in the oversize pockets of her long dress.

  “Could be waiting for Christmas for you two,” he joked, though his eyes took in Delilah’s soaked form. She waved him off.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I know how you feel about the Banks. Go home, if you want.”

  “I don’t want…”

  He cut her off. “But if you come with me, there’s a certain confectioner in the corner stall, and I might have a few coins in my pocket.”

  She tried to frown but it turned into a reluctant smile. “Bribe me with chocolate, then,” she said, but the thought gave her a renewed enthusiasm. She started to jog beside him. The Banks wasn’t her favorite place, but Zane knew how to navigate the stalls safely, and he’d never leave her alone there.

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a light brown tint to his. “Girls have been bought for cheaper,” he teased.

  “I’m not being bought, thank you. This trip was my idea, if you don’t remember.”

  “Ah, but it’s finders keepers out here.”

  The lights of the Banks shone ahead of them. Some of the illumination was electric, some the twinkle of fire. A mix of tarps hung over the banks of the river and spread far and wide until they reached the largest tent. Delilah was always amazed at the amount of wares they had to barter. Zane slowed.

  “Stay close to me,” he warned, then looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Or you won’t get any chocolate.”

  “Well, if you put it that way.” She only hesitated a minute before lacing an arm through his. His arm tensed for a fraction of a second before he relaxed. They’d touched each other before. Pats on the arm here and there, a hand to help one another over a stream, but lately things had been different. A charge, which hadn’t been there before. Feelings she wasn’t ready to admit.

  He patted her arm, but underneath his amusement was a nervousness Delilah picked up on. The Banks could be a dangerous, unruly place, with dark stalls even Zane didn’t dare go. She hoped they could do their trading and leave. And only just in time. The sky opened up, and they darted for the relative safety of the market, though, Delilah thought, that was only a different kind of danger. One far more sinister than rain.

  Rain poured down as they reached the entrance to the Banks. Delilah paused under the awning to wipe Gen’s arms, but the bot pushed her away.

  “It takes more than this to rust me,” Gen said. She gave Delilah a half-smile, because it didn’t take much at all to short her circuits. Delilah watched her for a minute, and satisfied the bot wasn’t going to blow smoke through her ears, turned to Zane.

  He placed the hoverdisk under his coat as a couple passed him going out. The echo of music and arguments carried out of the Banks, along with smells of various spices, food, smoke, and even human waste that mixed and created an atmosphere unique to the Banks. Delilah knew the game. Zane couldn’t tip anyone off to what he found, or he’d risk lowering the value as word spread. And spread it did. Even though the Banks looked like a loose-knit configuration of booths housed under one big tent, an undercurrent reeked of cheating and theft—and those were the least concerning issues. People had been known to go missing, and once illegal drugs were sold freely.

  They took a step in and Delilah eyed the bottles in the nearest stall. A brown tent flap covered the closest booth. It was tied open on one side with a threadbare string, but concoctions peeked out, deep amber liquids in small bottles. She made an exasperated noise and stalked off. The trouble was people believed these potions could cure their ills, or do magic, when really they were no more than colored sugar water.

  An older woman folded the other tent flap back. A messy bun held her gray hair away from her face, and she covered her shoulders with a maroon shawl, but her eyes were bright and aware. They’d have to be. She was trying to sell cheap tricks to easy marks, which Delilah surely wasn’t. Her mistake was making eye contact.

  “Handsome one, there.” The woman gestured to Zane, whose back was to them. “Sell you a little potion to get his attention? One silver piece’s all it’ll take.” Delilah rolled her eyes. Zane knew every seller in this market. The woman had probably sold a love potion to more than one girl to get his attention. Not this one, though.

  “Not interested.” Delilah stepped away, but the woman grabbed her arm. Gen moved to intercept, but Delilah waved her off. They didn’t need Authority bots getting involved.

  “Warn him,” the woman said under her breath. Breath that stank of onions. “Rank’s nosing around today. Looking for trouble. Tell ’im to keep his head down.”

  Delilah pulled out of her grip. She motioned to Gen to back up. “What do you care about him?”

 
The woman slipped back in her tent and jutted her chin in Zane’s direction. “Poor little orphan boy. He’s a child of us all. Belongs to the Banks, he does. And we look after each other. Here, come to think of it…”

  She dipped back into the tent and Delilah stood on tip-toe to look for Zane, who’d blended into the crowd. The woman pushed a small vial into her hands. “On the house.”

  Delilah held it up. An amber liquid swirled inside. “What is it?” she asked, with only marginal disgust.

  The woman winked. “It’s to prevent any little accidents. Take it one hour before…” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “No thank you…” Delilah tried to hand the vial back, but the woman wasn’t having it. If anything did happen, she’d never trust such an important thing to this vial. So far, though, there hadn’t been much more than glances and held hands. As much as she hated it, Zane had his hands full with other girls, and though there had been other boys, none were Zane. Delilah was his best friend, and sometimes he made her think he wanted more, but then he’d back off. She made herself be content to leave it at that. Friends were hard to come by in the Banks, and she couldn’t risk losing him.

  “Move along, then. I have actual customers.” The woman waved off Delilah, her eyes darting to the end of the aisle where two muscled guards searched a stall. Delilah took two steps back. They’d done nothing wrong, but Rank’s guards did what they pleased. If they brought you to Rank, the man who ran the Banks, all bets were off. He had a reputation for cruelty, among other things, and his punishments were severe and away from the eyes of the Authority. Every now and then the Authority would send bots to bust people in the Banks too, for even minor infractions. The place was a hive. And while everyone skirted the trade laws, most of the time the Authority, and Rank, looked the other way. Delilah didn’t want to be the exception. She took off down a side aisle where Zane had disappeared.

  Gen took her arm and forced her to slow down. “Zane is two booths ahead, waiting for us,” she said with forced calmness. She plastered on a fake smile and squeezed Delilah’s arm. Anyone else looking at them would see a short, auburn-haired girl and a taller blonde walking through the market with linked arms. Authority bots, though, read heart rate, and any suspicious readings were cause for questioning, so Gen tried to calm her down.