¨Pendeja.¨ Yásmin´s scorching self-critique burned between her ears as she tested the panels of the gently humming box in a futile effort at escape.
Indifferently, the box gently lofted a few centimeters off the patchy floor of the forest clearing and dutifully headed in an unknown direction...short-term, her fate was sealed.
Usually she would have closely examined the perimeter the moment she felt the buzz, that familiar 9-volt tingle in her inner ear that told her an Internet access point was close by...today, not so much.
Obviously, by now access points were nearly ubiquitous--had been for about 20 years, you know that--but without an address to call home or much money to spend in Internet cafes, finals for connected classes at Mech Tech had merited a balance slanted more toward urgency than caution.
By the dim, slightly hazy interior lighting of her confinement, she was just able to make out the proud manufacturer claim of the Trapomatic Foldabox, by 203X the scourge of anyone who found themselves on the wrong side of the law: ¨25 YEARS UNBREAKABLE, GUARANTEED¨...apparently placed for the appreciation of its typically unwilling passenger.
They had been rolled onto the streets of the Eastern States of America just 6 years ago...not that many people would have noticed at sight, thanks to their cloaking technology...can´t have visible crime boxes flying around town, InspireTech was very clear about that on release day.
With a resigned sigh, Yásmin provided a customer review: ¨No mames.¨
She swore to herself she would never end up in a cage again--not after That--but here she was, after spending almost two years begging, borrowing, and stealing her way from the detention complex outside New Guadalajara to the shadow of Chicago, right back in some iron cube.
She allowed herself to have the thought that it was almost funny, in a cosmic sort of way...and it was only as she realized how strange a thought it was that she realized she was falling asleep...even as the world softly faded away, she instinctively clutched at the backpack that contained her entire life: a laptop, battery packs, and some fruit snacks...one of the few luxuries she had become accustomed to over her short, difficult existence.
When she slammed into consciousness again with the terrifying realization her hands and feet were bound to the chair she was in, her first bewildered sweep of the stark concrete-walled space paused momentarily on the concerned countenance of Beverly Mae Walker: serious and guarded, but somehow matronly and reassuring.
The nascent good vibes quickly faded as she realized again that her hands and feet were bound to the chair she was in, and her stolen Cybercuff had in turn been taken from her.
It is at this point that Yásmín Xochitl Andrea Maria Fernanda Malinali de la Cruz unleashed a long stream of Spanish curses passed down from her mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her...inciendiary invectives that she had only heard spoken, and several of which she only barely understood the meaning of.
Clueless to the content of the tirade, but understanding of its inspiration, Beverly patiently waited for an indefinite period for the diatribe to exhaust itself before she began.
¨You´re Yázmín, yes?¨
Yázmín, short of breath from her furious oratory, responded with furious silence.
¨They let me come in here and talk to you, otherwise you´d be--¨
¨Right back where I was, stupid lady.¨ Yasmin spat.
Beverly´s patience endured. ¨You shouldn't be here, but I guess you already know that. The reason I´m talking to you instead of someone a little less chatty is that someone figured out you´re special and I want to help you.¨
Yázmín was unimpressed by her overture. ¨People like you never want to help me...you just want to use me for what you want.¨
Beverly´s icy professional countenance cracked at the very edge as she took a quick glimpse through the circumstances to see herself in the chair-bound little girl across the room. She paused, weighing her response before moving forward. ¨It often seems that way.¨
She took one, then another tentative step toward the girl as she spoke.
¨The point is that I´m here because I understand that you are a gifted young woman. I´ve been doing what I do a long time, where weren't many opportunities for girls like us when I was growing up.
¨
The daggers Yázmín stared at Beverly blunted slightly at the tip. ¨What do you know about me?¨
Sensing a sliver of rapport, Beverly gave Yázmín the gift of truth. ¨Only what they got from your laptop...you´re 16 and taking advanced engineering courses at Mech Tech. A girl like you doesn't need to be in the gutter.¨
Yázmín had heard that last line before, and her body tensed defensively. ¨What are you going to do with me?¨
Beverly took a deep lungful of the stale warehouse air and placed a very particular timbre in her voice as she made her next pronouncement ¨What I´m going to do is take a risk with you right now, because I honestly believe our best futures run together.¨
A vague glimmer of recognition sparked into Yázmín´s mind as Beverly spoke. Obviously she had never seen this woman before in life--how could she have, not knowing a single living soul within 1,000 kilometers, but she was almost certain she had heard that voice before somewhere.
The stately silver-haired woman scanned the trapped teenager´s face, and their eyes locked. Something intangible was exchanged, and from this grew the confidence she needed to commit to something ever so slightly insane.
¨My name is Beverly, but you just might know me better as Lady Liberty...I´d like you to be a part of something special.¨
Beverly, now revealed as the legendary superheroine known the world over as Lady Liberty, must have looked quite strange in the role of captor to Yásmín, who had once owned a publicity poster of her complete with a rendering of her signature in her (literally) patented shade of electric teal.
Her mind struggled to wrap itself around this new reality, where she had survived the greatest evils she had ever known only to end up at the mercy of someone who she once considered a role model. Her worldview was only further thrown into chaos as Beverly continued her gradual approach to the stifling seat which held her fast, producing a small remote control device from her pocket and unlocking the restraints at the swipe of a finger.
Yásmín rubbed her newly freed wrists, as is tradition.
¨I´ve managed to convince The Unit that you could have a place in our tech support department.¨ Beverly elaborated. ¨Your potential is incredible, but you never had a chance...I know a little something about that.¨
¨There are a couple of people I´d like you to meet.¨
The bunker doors hissed softly as they split in two, retracting into the frame to reveal a large circular conference room covered in all but one section with panels displaying various scenes apparently taken from all over the planet. The solid section, directly across from the portway, appeared to her to be some kind of blackboard, the scribbles and scrawls densely dotting its massive surface giving off a mild luminescence.
In the center of the room was a long table, currently populated by two other individuals.
One wore the classic costume of the military, bedecked lavishly with pins and pendants. Sitting at the head of the table pensively stroking his beard as he took account of Yásmín in person for the first time, he was pretty clearly the shift manager at the very least. He also gave off something of a strange sheen, the characteristic appearance of holoprojection.
A chair away sat an unusually solid-looking older gentleman with a granite jaw that could only be truly appreciated in the flesh, hair streaked at the sides with silver with a peppery crown.
His deep blue uniform was interrupted only sparingly with blood red accents, and punctuated at the chest the embossed silhouette of an eagle. One steely blue eye regarded Yásmín warily as she walked into the room, but the faintest hint of a smile struggled free as he lay eyes on Beverly, who escorted her to a seat at the table.
Military Man spoke first. ¨I want you to know that your presence here is an extreme breach of protocol, but your new friend Lady Liberty was willing to put her reputation at stake for you.¨
Next was Salt-n-Pepper´s contribution: ¨I don´t understand what she´s doing here.¨
Beverly had heard enough of his critiques by now: ¨Well, for one unlike you she can open her own email.¨
She earned a carcinogenic glare for the quip.
The badges and buttons rose from their seat at the head of the table and walked around to where Yásmín was seated. She shrunk in her chair, uneasy and frankly helpless.
Upon reaching her seat, the military man extended his right fist, and firmly pounded his own chest, causing the hologram to quickly flicker as it touched itself. An authoritative voice listed forth from hidden speakers. ¨I am General Irving Reese, and this is my Unit...at least, part of it.¨
niketalk.com
