Gestation, John Gold [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

you don’t have anything to do or anyone to do it with, studying is easy.

I just ate and slept, so I’m not tired. The fight was predictable, but now I have more important things on my plate. I walk over to my locker and take off everything that gives away the fact that I belong to the orphanage, hiding my city clothes on the outside. Then, I take off my virtual reality contact lenses. Nobody can find me now unless I want them to. The emergency tracker only kicks in when there’s a mortal threat or the owner activates it.

A year ago, I found a way into an area the kids aren’t supposed to be in. The space port is a separate sector that not even all adults are permitted to visit. Nobody inside is checked, it’s just really hard to get in. First, I stole some goods and sold them on the lower levels, but when the dock workers caught me, they surprised me by not reporting me to security. Sure, I got why they didn’t, though things took a turn I didn’t like in the least. They asked me to work off the losses I’d caused them.

The first few months were tricky, though by now, I’m glad things turned out the way they did. The dock workers are the family I never got to have—strict, hard-working, fair. I’ve learned everything they’ve been willing to teach me, I’ve done every job they’ve asked me to do. All I wanted to do was pay off my debt, since it was an affront to the people I care about, and I just wanted it gone. When I told the dock workers how I felt, they gave me a word to describe that feeling: shame. Thankfully, that’s all in the past. We’ve been even for three months now. When I paid everything off, the dock workers helped me open an anonymous wallet, and now I get a little something for doing the jobs none of the genies want to do. That’s what the dock workers are called.

“Remember, you always need to have an advantage when you’re fighting a stronger opponent. Always. Always control the situation.”

“What if there are several of them?” Far from a rhetorical question for me.

“Split them up, pit them against each other, make sure they can’t come after you at the same time. Create an advantage for yourself.”

“But how?”

“That’s your problem. If you really want to, you’ll find a solution. Remember, it’s always there, and there’s always more than one, no matter how cornered you feel.”

Galboa’s an electric engineer for small space ships, and his advice is always top of the line. I have no intention of ever telling him that I consider him a kind of surrogate father. At least, he’s what the father of my dreams would look like. I don’t have a mother, but I do have a family, and my future is here. The dock hands are who I’ve always looked for.

∞ ∞ ∞

“…”

“Never give up. There’s always a way.”

We’re talking the way we always do at work. Galboa is a communication electronics specialist, and he was the one who insisted that I pay them back for what I stole. His build is average, he’s swarthy, and he always has that damn prickly, black beard. With his work outfit and bunch of tools, he even looks like a terrorist from one of the old movies. He was from the orphanage, too, and he’s made it all the way to the third citizenship level. Three levels above mine!

Sometimes, the older kids try to follow me, but I always know how to shake them. Nobody is ever going to find the way here, my way home.

Galboa’s son Finx sometimes drops by to see how his dad’s doing, and we quickly became friends. He’s three years older than me. Fifteen! I’ve only ever felt like a kid around him, and he’s the only one I’ve ever played with. He knows how to fight without weapons, so that’s what we spend our time doing. He teaches me new strikes. I memorize them. We spar at half-strength. Finx instilled in me the habit of always doing my exercises every day, slowly building the intensity. For us, it’s fun; for Galboa, it’s a joy for the eyes. I’m not very emotional, but I’m great at sensing what other people are feeling. And Galboa is always happy when we’re playing down at the docks. Finx told me that I’m a good student, that I’m almost perfect. He has no idea, though.

He fights to have fun; for me, it’s survival. Galboa probably gets it, though he’s never said anything. I have to fight back at the orphanage all the time. Whatever Finx teaches me, I’m always working on it. I’m not very talented, and I don’t have access to the infonet, but my memory is excellent.

The day’s work began like it always does except, the somber brigadier came looking for me as soon as I got to the docks. I’ve never liked how serious he is. And as soon as I showed up, the workers all turned sour and fell silent.

“Hi, Anji. Listen up.” His eyes fall. “Galboa was hit by a flame from the nozzle—the whole right side of his body is scorched, and they had to amputate his arm. He won’t be working here anymore. Now, there’s an inspection, so they’re examining everything and looking for something. You should make yourself scarce around here for a while.”

My world collapses.

How could god allow something so unfair to happen? Everything I’d ever wanted, everything I’d ever had, everything I’d achieved, all of it was gone. Without bothering to listen to the rest of his speech, I change and head back through the ventilation tunnel. Strangely enough, I’m not crying. When I crawl out in our sector, local security grabs me immediately—they pulled all the tapes from the dock cameras. They haven’t found anything about me working with the dock hands, and I’m not about to