Four days later, a visitor arrived at their doorstep.

  Jazelle had watched the days and nights pass by like the long-shifting hand on a clock. Jazelle kept herself alert and awake by focusing on the shadows shifting in the desert. She let her imagination keep her active. Jazelle stared off into the distance, wondering what shapes she could make out with her eyes.

  Dinosaurs? Coyotes?

  Just as she was trying to make out the shapes, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. Jazelle’s vision faded to black, and she fell to the ground.

  -

  Jazelle had passed out for some time before she heard footsteps approaching. They were heavy and weighted. Against the numbing force of her body, she pushed herself up. She had barely managed to pull herself to a stand when she noticed a figure in a green cloak approaching them. Jazelle looked at her. She looked considerably older than her. Her face was half-covered by a metallic mask. The masked figure didn’t enter the compound and tossed a sack at Jazelle’s feet.

  The sack unravelled, revealing a series of goods, water in canisters, snacks, and various other things. The metallic tubes rolled on the floor. Jazelle smelled lingering traces of steam and other corrosive artifacts. She knew it must have taken a lot of effort to transfer them here. She lifted one of the containers to her lips, screwed the cap off, then drank it down like a life-stream.

  As the figure was about to leave, she realized they wouldn’t have arrived unintentionally without a statement.

  She spat out her words like trickling water; the trickling turned into an explosive scream.

  “Wait!”

  Spectre lifted her head towards Jazelle’s voice.

  Jazelle was right by the entrance. Her arms buckled around the opening of the compound.

  She panted in and out, muttering under her hoarse breath.

  “At least before you go, have some tea with us!”

  Spectre looked at Jazelle amongst the vast expanse of The Scorchlands behind her, took in her expression that pierced like solid glass, and, after pausing for a moment, decided to follow Jazelle into the enclave.

  -

  Jazelle poured water from the canister for Spectre. The water trickled into a stream into a cup Jazelle had separated from the canister. She mixed the cup with some desert herbs she had found one evening in the Shelter compound. Jazelle passed the cup to Spectre. Spectre placed the cup to her lips.

  Spectre sipped. The tea had a refreshing aftertaste like mint and lemon.

  “What is this?” Spectre asked.

  “Desertgrass,” Jazelle answered. “I found it right by some quarry rocks in the compound.”

  “You’re rather resourceful,” Spectre said, setting the cup down. “You should’ve used those resources on yourselves.”

  Jazelle curled her fingers into her palms and looked at the gap between her crossed legs. Spectre caught a trace of uncertainty; she looked past Jazelle and saw Lior still covered up in her leather coat, still sheltered in the corner of the compound.

  Spectre’s mechanical hand dangled in mid-air as if she were grabbing onto the teacup.

  “Lior told me about you.”

  Jazelle’s eyes lit up. “Lior did?”

  A faint smile appeared on Spectre’s lips. “Yes. She never talked about you much, but when she did, she looked relaxed.”

  Jazelle leaned forward. “W-What did she talk about?”

  “Basic commands. Jazelle read, Jazelle cooked, Jazelle learnt…That’s all she ever knew.”

  At that moment, Jazelle imagined a young Lior. A young Lior who probably didn’t know how to say much, who observed Jazelle like a curious rote-study, nervous when Jazelle toppled over a tower of blocks, or held a book upside-down when she didn’t know how to read. Always looking, always glancing, always observing, like a mirror impenetrable through glass, she always stood by in the background looking after her.

  She never knew what Lior did, and now that a person called her by name, she finally had the opportunity to ask all her questions. But for some reason, she stopped. Only a single concern came to mind.

  “Will Lior be alright?”

  Spectre looked to the ground.

  “I’m unsure about that. ShArDs don’t tend to live long.”

  Jazelle gasped.

  Spectre continued, “She had to go on a lot of life-depleting missions for funds. I haven’t heard from her since. The system only marked her on vacation.”

  Jazelle’s jaw stiffened, held back by the weight of present ghosts catching up to her. Her chest tightened; it felt as if Lior’s stiffened hands were clinging onto her, dragging her back, pulling her back to an anchor of safety. Still, she pushed; the plague of an uncertain future was scarier than anything she knew.

  She asked the question.

  “What do they tend to do to them? The ShArDs.”

  Spectre looked up. She spoke about everything with point-blank precision.

  “They dispose of them once they outgrow their usefulness. Incinerate their remains, and throw them in the energy reactor.”

  “The energy reactor?”

  “That’s what we use to power The Scorchlands. We don’t have many resources anymore. ShArDs are boundless with power, and they’re useful to the government even if they die.”

  The compound, which once felt comfortable with the presence of another human, vanished into thin air. The vast expanse now seemed dangerous. The wilderness was going to swallow them whole.

  “So…what do we do now?” Jazelle asked.

  Spectre turned her head to the side and looked at the empty desert that stretched between the two provinces.

  “Run and try to exist between the two provinces. Ask anyone you can to provide you with food and shelter…”

  “Or?”

  Spectre looked at Jazelle. “Join the ShArDs.”

  Jazelle’s heart stopped for a moment.

  To join them? To become what Lior had become?

  Lior used to be a loaded bullet. Now, she was like shrapnel ready to be scrapped. She was unresponsive, and it appeared like she was gone. To become like her, Jazelle would have to become the thing that she detested. Cold, unflinching, unfeeling, bodied in a suit of armour. Heart unexposed, covered up, and a machine.

  “You clearly have the ability. I’m sure the government will find you useful.”

  Jazelle stilled herself. Useful, like a utility.

  “And Lior?” Jazelle asked.

  “If you join them, the government will find ways to retain you. Health care and insurance are extended not just to you, but also to your family members.”

  Jazelle felt glass shards biting into her soul. Her body would be splintered into bits, weaponized, not hers to control anymore.

  Spectre rose. “The choice is up to you. If you’re over at Headquarters, ask for me; this is my token.”

  Spectre passed to the digital chip to Jazelle, swept her cloak and left the compound.

  Jazelle stood in the emptiness of that building, sinking into the ground. Her lips quivered and trembled. She looked over at Lior, heart still beating, sheltered from the sand and wind coming from the desert.

  She thought about the warmth they both shared when they were younger. Once she did, the trembling stopped. Jazelle smiled, a lonely smile.

  Jazelle turned to look at Spectre’s digital chip in her hands. She looked at it like a portal to another world. Jazelle clenched on it tightly, feeling its digital veins and its looming chatter sounding throughout her mind.

  -

  After a week and a half, Sun-Downe halted the search for the two fugitives and Jazelle. The investigation had come to a halt. Detective Tru’s subordinates and surveillance drones withdrew. The residents of the area flocked back to the main squares, and soon Sun-Downe was bustling with activity again.

  In The Works, everything was the same. The only thing was that Jazelle’s workshop remained closed. The metal shutters tightly guarded the workshop doors, disallowing anyone from seeing all the beautiful intricacies and secrets inside. Lots of Jazelle’s customers were upset, and many in The Works were tempted to open up Jazelle’s workshop, but a man stopped them.

  “She’s young,” He said. “She’ll return.”

  He was forty, gruff, with a messy beard. He had thick, muscular arms and wore a thin cotton vest. Everyone looked at his height, arms, and bald head, felt the force of his authority and left.

  As they parted ways, the man looked at Jazelle’s lonely workshop. He wanted to inquire where she had been, but in Sun-Downe no one asked about each other’s business, so he dropped it.

  He remembered he had been one of the many adults who had taught Jazelle about the mechanics of the world when she was younger. He thought she was a precocious kid. When she was young, she always sat on a slab of stone in the middle of The Works looking at any adult who caught her attention, and once she did, she would wave at them as if they were an old stranger or friend and ask them lots of questions about their work.

  He remembered her enthusiasm and her ability to absorb massive amounts of information without trying. If there were any books in his study (rarely the case), she would always ask for them. He found it odd: a girl who actually loved studying and reading, and asking questions.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The thought was lonesome, precious and memorable.

  And now, as he looked at the steeled-off workshop, he wondered — where was the girl?

  She was gone.

  -

  In that same week and a half, The Iron-Batallion Fortress received some unexpected news. A young sixteen-year-old girl had arrived at the gates of their headquarters.

  It was highly unusual. Usually, ShArDs would leave for their missions in groups or pairs, but this girl came alone; not only that, she was the only one conscious. She carried another girl, sixteen, who was cradled in her arms. The two girls almost looked identical.

  The girl retracted her hoverboard, cradled the other girl to one side and showed a digital token.

  Everyone in The Iron-Battalion Fortress noticed it — it was Spectre’s.

  They let her pass through.

  -

  That very week, they interviewed her. She said she wanted to join them, but that her sister Lior required immediate treatment. They obliged.

  They assessed her abilities. The way she manipulated and tweaked machines. How she talked to them would prove to be an asset. They entered her ability in the database, and she was the only one of her kind, an S-ranked ability. S-ranked ability users usually could topple down continents. Based upon this, they halted the investigation for the other two fugitives.

  The government had been running out of S-ranked ShArDs for a while, so they had no choice but to scan and recruit them themselves. For one to show up at their doorstep was a rarity.

  They scanned her biometrics and initiated a full-body examination to ensure “Jazelle” was healthy. They ensured her sister would be safe and in full medical care. After giving her a full run-down of the facility, they showed her to her room, a private suite with a full desert view, and told her that her ceremony and her training would start tomorrow. They shut the door behind her.

  -

  Days had passed by since Jazelle had first arrived at the facility. For some reason, when she first arrived, she felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had seen such a place before. When she stepped in, it felt natural. The air was chillier. The facility was spacious with barely any walls or barricades; everyone's steps and movements could be heard within the commune.

  When she first arrived, they inspected her, took her tools, and her hoverboard away. She was sad about that, but once she showed her abilities, they were intrigued. She figured that once she gained their trust, she could ask for her belongings back.

  The facility spanned several floors; interestingly enough, all she saw were scientists in long lab coats. The majority were in their thirties or forties, except one. He was only a few years older than her. His blond hair was combed back, with not a single strand seen in sight. He was holding a clipboard and flicking through the pages. He glanced at Jazelle and turned his back.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He glanced at Jazelle’s hands. There was still dirt lacing the ends of her fingernails and fingertips. She looked like a cat who had been grabbed from the back alley. He turned around and treaded first. Jazelle, uncertain about where to go, followed him without question.

  Oddly enough, all she was thinking about was that she hadn’t changed clothes or showered for days.

  They went into one of the examination rooms, and she sat up on the examination table, while he placed some plastic discs around Jazelle’s wrists. He ripped a plastic packet, took out the alcohol prep pad, placed a hand on her shoulder, and wiped a part of her chest that was exposed.

  Jazelle looked at him, doing so delicately. Apparently, this was the last examination. He had a pair of icy-blue eyes, and he did the procedure so carefully that his age almost betrayed his experience. He placed the plastic discs attached to wires on her chest, and he looked at the monitor as it beeped with two lines, red and blue, indicating her heartbeat and vitals. Holding the clipboard, the man quickly jotted down some notes before unhooking the plastic discs from Jazelle.

  “You’re free to leave now,” the man said.

  Just as he was about to leave, Jazelle rushed over, clinging to the doctor’s sleeve.

  “If you don’t mind me asking —” Jazelle said. “How is my sister?”

  The man appeared taken aback.

  He looked at Jazelle; her face was dirty, and it was obvious she hadn’t washed in days, but he noticed the freckles scattered on her face. They looked like stars. In a world of perfection, he considered them an anomaly.

  He sighed. “Not so well, between life and death.”

  “I see,” Jazelle said.

  The man looked over at her, “We’re trying our best. ShArD JZ-21 is stabilized, but we don’t know what will happen to her.”

  Jazelle let go of the doctor’s sleeve. Jazelle’s head was downcast, and without saying goodbye to the doctor, she left the room. The door automatically shut behind them, and the doctor remained.

  He looked at the sleeve where Jazelle grabbed onto him. Two dirty fingerprints remained there from Jazelle, who toiled through days in The Scorchlands — desperate, not knowing what to do.

  -

  The room that Jazelle was given wasn’t too bad. It had a wonderful view of The Scorchlands. At least, that was what she wanted to think. She wanted to scream, ruin her perfectly ruined bed and throw a pillow to the wall, but she couldn’t. Sound travelled fast, and in a facility full of strangers, it was best not to make a bad impression.

  Jazelle slid open the closet. There were three military suits, all clad in leather, with heavy mesh fastened to the chest. Jazelle analyzed the material; it was bulletproof. She looked at the heavy armour meant to fasten around the heart and chest, and slid the closet closed, turned off the lights and went to sleep.

  -

  The next day, she woke up early. It was 5:00, and she was alone in the mess hall. The facility ran on a twenty-four-hour schedule. People took rotational shifts to ensure the fortress was well-protected.

  Jazelle walked across the third floor of the facility. Each floor was circled like a ring. The third floor was unique, as it had windows covering the exterior of the ring. Jazelle looked past the window into the vast expanse of the dark and stared at the stars twinkling in the sky, and the curvature of light that was starting to appear on the earth’s rim.

  Just as this was happening, the Doctor who inspected her the previous day was walking by. He was about to wave at Jazelle, but decided against it. He saw the curvature of the earth reflected in Jazelle’s eyes. The light expanded, becoming brighter and brighter, and not wanting to disturb Jazelle, he looked towards the horizon.

  Both of them stared at the desert, previously filled with stars, turned bright, marking the start of a new day.

  “You were just going to stand there and not greet me?” Jazelle asked.

  The young Doctor turned towards Jazelle. She was suited up in her gear. Her face looked too soft for that heavy mesh of armour. The neckline of her suit poked awkwardly as if it were a size too tight.

  The Doctor turned the question, “I was just wondering why you were up so early.”

  Jazelle turned to face the horizon, “Well…I like to catch the world when it's dark.”

  “Come to think of it,” Jazelle stroked her chin, “I never caught your name.”

  Confusion flashed across the Doctor’s eyes.

  “Dr.—” He said.

  “No, your actual name,” Jazelle said. “I mean, you don’t look much older than me.”

  The young Doctor swallowed. The face he saw the other day, he now saw why he had been terrified by it. She was irregular. Everything down to her stride, the asymmetrical cut of her hair, the sparse freckles that decorated her face — she was even missing a tooth near the front lines of her teeth.

  In a space like this, how could such a person exist?

  But his curiosity betrayed him; he wanted it to work.

  He wanted an anomaly to prove to him that such a thing could exist within The System.

  “Asher,” he replied, giving his name like a confession. “Asher Giles.”

  He lifted his arm slightly, like an automatron. Jazelle clasped it with a firm shake.

  “Dr. Giles, huh? Nice to meet you!”

  -

  The ShArD recruitment ceremony started at 7:00. Recruits for the term were to show up on the dot and pledge their allegiance. After, they would be given a general overview of what they had to train for.

  Beforehand, Asher kindly showed Jazelle a tour of the medical facility in another wing on the third floor. They walked through the sanitized corridors and room pods until they arrived at Room 3065. Through a vertical slit in the door, Jazelle saw Lior’s face hooked to lots of machines.

  Jazelle ran towards Lior.

  “Lior!” She yelled.

  Asher held back Jazelle’s arm. Jazelle looked at Asher.

  “Only medical personnel are allowed access through these doors,” he said. “I’ll let you pass, but once you head out, let me know, alright?”

  Jazelle slowly turned towards Asher; his eyebrows were furrowed, showing a trace of concern.

  “Okay,” Jazelle said.

  Asher loosened his grip, and Jazelle stayed near the door. He walked past Jazelle, allowing the door to scan his biometrics, and the door slid open.

  Jazelle turned to face him; his eyes were steady, looking past her.

  “Thank you,” Jazelle said.

  Asher’s eyes softened. He usually went about his day checking patients, logging in his reports, and walking down hallways alone, but when he saw Jazelle the other day, he stopped. Her expressions were different. She paused, looking at a person walking by, and asked them questions about their day and routine. She talked about machines, dunes, and various other things.

  And he noticed that even now.

  She stepped past him into the room with Lior. He wanted to follow her, but decided against it. The door closed between them, and he stopped. He looked at the barred space where Jazelle and Lior lay, and saw quite a sight.

  Jazelle hugged Lior, who was still trapped on the hospital bed. Her head drooped. Asher could not see her face. However, underneath that shroud of hair, he saw the medical facility’s blanket blotched in tears. He looked at the image as if separated by frosted glass.

  The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air.

  -

  The ShArD recruitment ceremony started at 7:00. On the facility’s ground floor, beyond a set of heavy-duty doors, was an atrium shaped like a dome. The dome had three levels. Asher watched the recruits from the second level of the facility. He was present alongside all the other Doctors. They all dressed austerely in their white lab coats. Asher readied his clipboard, ready to catch any detail within his sight.

  He looked at the fifty recruits on the floor below, centred near the stage. On the stage was the Director of Recruitment, her hair tied back into a bun. She wore a military-style uniform with chevrons cuffed at the sleeves. Attached to her breast were lots of military accoutrements. She stood near a microphone.

  Asher scanned the room looking for Jazelle, but realized she wasn’t there. His palms were drenched with sweat.

  A colleague of his placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Asher, what’s the matter?”

  Asher did not turn his gaze towards his colleague; he continued scanning until he noticed her. The doors opened.

  A young sixteen-year-old girl strode to the front. He looked at her suit; it glimmered and shone in the light with hexagonal holographic sequin patterns. The collar was looser, and she had bands around her arms. All the recruits noticed her as she strode towards the front with her modified boots. She squeezed herself into the second row and stood at her station.

  Asher looked at her and smiled. Neat modification.

  The Director of Recruitment spoke. Her voice boomed through the microphone like a tidal wave.

  “Welcome, recruits! We know it's been a long journey for you to reach here; some of you have travelled here far and wide just to join us! We want you to know it’s an honour for you to serve your country. We congratulate you on your decision. Your training will consist of several things: mental training, fitness aptitude, flight training, and War Strategy. The training will be long and arduous. Some of you will fail. But for the best, we ensure a bright future. With our High-Tech medical professionals and state-of-the-art facilities, you’ll be ensured for life!”

  Yes, at the price of people’s bodies and sanity, Jazelle thought.

  But she didn’t say that. She stood, one out of many recruits.

  Half will be eradicated. Only the best survive.

  ShArDs didn’t live long. She knew that. The power within their bodies didn’t make them sustainable. Spectre was a different story. Lior got torn from the inside. Jazelle clenched her fist. She would do better.

  Shards were beautiful shrapnels of glass. Originally formed from limestone and sand, they forged over time into beautiful works of art. As to what she will be forged into — Jazelle didn’t know. All she knew was that she wanted to keep Lior's dying heart alive, and she would do the best as she could within any given circumstance.

  Her mind screamed: Take up the Shard.

  To herself, she wasn’t part of the Specialized Human Augmented Response Division. To herself, she was Jazelle.

  So she’ll take up the Shard. That weapon that was hers, and she’ll use it for Lior, just as Lior did for her.

  In that hospital room, once her tears stopped, she got up and looked at the frail, weakened Lior with resolution.

  She’ll find a way.

  They will tell her it's all over.

  But she’ll not believe that, for once she did, she knew the facility would become her cage.

  Lior, Jazelle thought. I’ll make you proud.

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