Secret Value of Zero, The (5 page)

Arya sat by a tree, arms hanging over her knees. She glanced up as Meke approached. “Hey. I’m sorry about all this,” her small hands swept across the horizon, but Meke wasn’t sure what she meant. Sorry for last night? Sorry for the experiments? Sorry for the escape? Meke supposed that it didn’t really matter and crouched down at a tree across from Arya.
 

“So, why did you bring me here?”

Arya smiled—a weary upturn of her mouth—and nodded. “Right to the point.” She tucked in a stray strand of long, rich black hair. “Well, as you probably know, the institution isn’t really about curing people. It killed me to sit there and watch them do it.” She spat onto the ground. “It’s called Genex. It’s a military-grade program. I don’t know a lot of details since I was just an employee. I just know that Genex is about turning humans into weapons. You can guess why.”

“Are they trying to fight the Foreign Powers?” Meke almost gasped.

It was unthinkable. The Foreign Powers controlled everything in the world: the trade, the technology, the raw materials of civilization.
 

Arya shrugged. “I suppose so. Although, I can’t be sure. I was just a tutor.”

“Why us? Why Zeroes?” In her mind’s eye, Meke could still see some of the other patients, their sunken cheeks and dull eyes.
 

“Because you’re Zeroes,” Arya said. “I’m sorry.”

Zeroes didn’t matter in the grand evolutionary scheme of Prosperon. They were the least efficient, least productive and the least loved members. Most parents, rather than to suffer the embarrassment of having a Zero offspring, abandoned them on the side of the road. Some were luckier and lived on the streets until some trouble befell them: starvation, beatings or neglect.
 

Meke had been even luckier. Her mother and father had hidden her away, kept her safe in their small and warm apartment. Some parents loved their Zeroes just as if they were Fivers or Stars. Meke thanked the heavens for that one small fortune: her memories of a warm childhood.
 

She could only remember the vaguest outlines of her father’s face—he had died in some sort of factory fire—and his dark blond hair, the same hair that Meke had. Meke and her father had dirty blond hair and light brown eyes where her mother had dark brown hair streaked with gray and light blue eyes.
 

Meke sighed and leaned back on the tree trunk, letting its roughness anchor her. “Okay,” Meke said, even if it wasn’t really okay. “So, what do you want with me?”

“Just know this. I wanted to get everyone out years ago, but,” she shrugged, “we needed information. Now we have something big. Something that will tear this thing down.”

“What thing? What does that have to do with me?”

“Sterling would be the best one to explain it to you. He’s the leader. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” Arya blinked. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think straight right now. I need sleep. Maybe I’ll make more sense later.”

Meke nodded. Her own thoughts dissolving into a mess of exhaustion, she inclined her head onto the tree and fell asleep.

MEKE SQUINTED into the direct sunlight, blinking away sleep.
 

“We have to go. They’re still on us. I don’t understand why they’re being so persistent,” Arya said, as she shook Meke awake.

Meke’s sluggish brain wondered if it was because she had confronted Doctor Ball. The few more hours of sleep had made her thoughts clearer. She remembered Doctor Ball’s gleaming eyes when she had told him about her strange new sense. She didn’t want to see that gleam again in anyone’s eyes. It had been a proprietary gaze, as if Meke only existed for other’s ends.
 

As Meke’s thoughts sharpened, she wondered if this Sterling’s plan involved her and her new
thing
. No, she told herself, Arya wouldn’t allow that. Arya had saved her. One niggling thought poked at her. If Arya had cared ever so much, why had she sat by and watched Meke get turned into an experiment? Then, Meke remembered Arya’s words, “We needed information.”

All five men and women weaved a haphazard path through the forests and valleys, ducking behind large rocks and crossing small ravines. It was springtime, so the air was warm, but the ground was still cold.
 

A few hours later, they reached a craggy formation where they rested. The guards trailed them somewhere far off, so far off that they could relax a bit.
 

Meke chugged some water from a bottle, her eyes roaming the world around her. She marveled at the colors—some grays, some reds, some browns, even some yellows.

Arya walked up to Meke, the blond boy’s arm tucked under hers. “Cecil wanted me to introduce him to you,” Arya said, pointing at the blond-haired boy.

Meke glanced at Cecil, who was smiling in her general direction. He had his hand out. For a moment, she was not sure what the hand was for until Arya poked her arm. Tentatively, Meke extended her hand and shook Cecil’s hand.
 

Cecil’s smile widened and he whispered something to Arya. “Cecil said don’t be nervous. He’s nice.”

Meke laughed a little and supposed that she should return the friendliness. “Tell Cecil that it’s a pleasure to meet him and my name is Meke.”

As Arya translated Meke’s signs into spoken words, Meke wondered at the halting nature of the exchange. She had grown too used to the easy flow of conversation between two signers.

Arya’s moving fingers regained Meke’s attention. “Cecil wanted to know how long you were at the institution.”

“Eight years.”

Cecil’s eyebrows went up and his mouth fell open. “He’s shocked. He doesn’t know anyone who survived for more than a year there.”

Meke knew that she had been at the institution for a long time, but she never realized how much longer than everyone else. Now that Cecil mentioned it, she couldn’t remember anyone who had been there longer than she had other than Doctor Ball. She examined Cecil. His skin had a gray tinge and the last remnants of a blue-purplish rash covered his forearm. Meke glanced down on her own arm and saw the fading signs of a similar rash. A question occurred to her.

“How long were you with Doctor Ball?”

His mouth flattened. “Just three months. He hurt me. I hated it there.” He frowned a bit. “They took me away from my parents. Do you know where they are?”

Arya shook her head. Meke’s throat hurt, but she didn’t need her throat to talk. “No, I’m sorry.”

Cecil sighed. “They hid me for my whole life. They told me I’d be safe. Then one day—” his forehead creased and his lips stopped moving.

Arya whispered something in his ear, which made his shoulder sag a bit. Cecil nodded, his blond hair falling over his eyes.
 

Arya looked at Meke and smiled a sad smile. “We’d best be going. The guards are still following us. They’re further off, but we can’t stop.”

The steady pace lulled Meke’s body into a constant rhythm of movement. Her brain, however, buzzed with thoughts. Strangers surrounded her, pulling her toward an unknown fate. Just because you couldn’t see the strings didn’t mean they weren’t there.
 

She had no idea about this Sterling, this revolution. Her mother’s words nudged at her consciousness: Do not believe them. Meke chewed on her lip. Now, that she finally left the institution, Meke wondered if she should just walk away and live her own life as she had dreamed of doing when she had been stuck behind glass windows. Then Meke thought about Arya who had risked her life for a Zero and decided to stay with her.

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That night, Meke slipped into her sleeping bag, grateful for horizontal sleep. Despite her body’s limp exhaustion, Meke’s brain ached. A day of forcing her sensory world into the right orientation had worn her out.

Her headache reminded her of the reality. She had a twitching mass of sensation in her mind that interfered with her every thought and her every move.
 

The new sense—this thing—hadn’t faded as they drew away from the institution. Instead, feelings and images assaulted Meke from all directions. She could tolerate it during the day as her eyes settled her mind, but at night, her world spun, the notion of direction becoming meaningless.

How could she live like this, at the mercy of some strange thing growing in her mind? It felt like a parasite, siphoning her energy and her thoughts from her.
 

Her mother had told her that she needed to master the absence of a sense. “If you want to, you can do anything,” she said, her light eyes all the more startling in her sun-worn face. “But you need to find ways around it.” Meke exhaled. She needed to master this thing. This sense wouldn’t beat her. Meke squeezed her eyes shut, trying to upright the world in her mind. The more she tried, the more the world swirled around her.

Meke clutched her sleeping bag, letting her nails dig into the rough fabric. It was no use. Meke released a breath that she didn’t know she had held. Her brain strained to maintain the focus. After a day of righting and steadying her world, the wall between this sense and her mind crumbled.

The world flooded her mind. Shapes, contours, textures saturated her, driving out all rational thought. All Meke did was feel. She felt the specks of dirt on the rock next to her as she felt the tip of the evergreen swaying in the breeze. She felt the wind’s current past the evergreen needles. Meke’s brain struggled to make sense of the shapes. Her mind couldn’t fathom the distance between the rock and the tree. A speck of dirt seemed as tall as a boulder.

Meke squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the deluge. The feelings refused to leave. After what seemed to be hours, Meke’s brain grew to accommodate these interlopers begrudgingly and painfully. Neuron by neuron, her brain righted all shapes and found some rhyme and reason to them.
 

The world filled in around Meke. Things found their rightful place. Her world felt bigger, more intense than ever before. Meke gasped as she felt a bug crawl on a tree trunk as she sensed the wind sweeping along the ground.
 

Meke was too tired for wonderment and awe. She fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
 

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The new way of relating to the world felt too vivid, too full. Now, however, her head didn’t ache so. It only throbbed dully, as if her mind had overexerted itself.
 

Meke walked through the forest, feeling every evergreen needle in its own clarity, tracing the contours of the cliff on her left. Meke stumbled, her sense of the ground inconstant and fickle. Her sense still left her slightly heavy-headed and dizzy, but now she didn’t wince in pain or need to steady herself on trees as she walked.
 

Meke had to smile. This thing, this sense, was becoming hers. No longer did it feel like something alien lived in her brain without her permission. Her mind was hers again. She had achieved this all by herself.

She could even feel Arya slow down in front of her. Arya adjusted her belt, which had protruding dagger hilts. “You okay?” she asked, glancing at Meke’s slightly too-wide stance.
 

Meke nodded, righting her feet. Her balance felt unreliable these days, so she had nudged her feet apart to compensate.
 

“You know. We’ll be over the mountains in two days. There will be some people there to pick us up.”

Meke exhaled. “Okay. Then what?”

“We’ll go to the Barracks. That’s where Sterling is. You’ll meet him and see what you can do.”

Meke frowned. “What if I don’t want to do anything?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Meke thought about telling Arya about her old plans to roam the country. Then she looked at Arya’s expectant gaze and just shrugged. Arya glanced at her. “This will be a way for you to make things right,” Arya said.

Meke nodded. Arya walked ahead, satisfied with the mute reply.
 

Meke looked around her. Not just with her eyes and that sense, but with her brain. Arya, Theria and Trove all formed a loose triangle around her. Cecil stayed with Theria, but he walked with her without hesitation. These people had ringed her for the last few days, just like this.

Meke slowed, making sure to lag behind Theria who had been behind her. Trove dropped back as well, keeping level with her. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him, but Meke felt his attention on her. She slowed down even more, stretching the distance between her and Theria. Trove glanced at her, turning his body toward her, keeping his eyes on her. Meke sped up, closing the gap and Trove turned back, his posture relaxing.

They’re keeping me with them
, she realized. Now she was having trouble breathing.
Why
?

Meke tried to think. She was still a Zero, a speck in a universe of important things. Surely, they would leave an unimportant thing like her alone. Then again, they’d risked their lives to rescue two meaningless specks. Meke had to trust that there was a good reason.

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She hadn’t consciously kept this new thing from them, but every time she raised her hands to tell someone, she dropped them. This
thing
was hers, something that she didn’t want to share with anyone. Besides, how could she tell someone something she didn’t even understand? She couldn’t put these feelings into words. Now that she felt like it was
hers
, finally, she couldn’t give it up so soon after she had mastered it.

She should tell Arya. Not only should she tell Arya, but Trove was noticing. Sometimes she would feel something flutter or move nearby and turn to look. Every time that happened, Trove would fix these dark eyes on her. His mouth would twist into a strange shape as if he needed to pick Meke apart and study her. What if he figured it out? Despite the improbability of it, Meke still dreaded the thought.
 

Meke picked up a few small stones and mentally traced their protrusions and dips. Her sense was becoming more exact. These minuscule indentations showed themselves in staggering clarity in her mind, even though her physical eyes couldn’t see them. She threw the rocks away, feeling them bounce until they slid to a stop.