Memories blurred like rain on a windshield. There were faceless people, monochrome places, remnants of a life she had once lived. They were comforting. They were home. She went through the motions of each memory, piecing them together.

  Remembering. Internalizing. Awakening.

  First came the comfort of floating in a vat of warm, gel-like soup. It cushioned her in all the right places, so she kept her eyes closed, adrift in bliss.

  Then came the vibrations, subtle at first, like a gentle knocking. The gel tickled her, sliding against her bare skin. Then more vibrations came, followed by a deep whine that made the gel bubble. Something else appeared, too. Traces of light parted the darkness, intruders from beyond her mind alone.

  Her memories faded. The blissful reverie was shattered. She could confuse nothing for a dream no longer.

  She woke up.

  Hundreds of tiny bubbles burbled from vents beneath her feet and tickled her. Her long, brown hair spread like seaweed. Glass walls curved around her. A pod. How she knew this was a mystery. The ghastly sight beyond her pod, however, she did not know.

  Concrete chunks and twisted rebar lay broken on the cracked floor. Bare wires sticking out the remaining walls and ceiling spit sparks. Light panels drooped from severed cables and grazed the floor. Some had shattered into glass shards that caught the faint glow settled around the few remaining ceiling lights.

  In the distance, she heard a faint roar. Sometimes the faint trill of machine guns followed. Sometimes it was both, and moments after, vibrations would shake the pod and send ripples through the gel. She touched the glass wall and ran her fingers down its curved length. It was cool to the touch.

  Suddenly, the room and pod quaked. Several walls came crashing down, kicking up gritty clouds that slammed into the ceiling lights and extinguished them. The gel hardened in response, cocooning her.

  She stared down at her naked body.

  Suddenly, she was terribly aware of the gel pressing against her lungs. Air. She needed air! Yet despite the uncomfortable pressure inside her chest, settled like a bad congestion, she didn’t need to breathe.

  She flinched at a shrill whistle that was followed by a second quake that rocked her pod and cracked the floor further. Near the base of the pod, where it met a circular platform raised above the floor, cracks spider-webbed up the walls. They were one bad shake away from shattering and slicing her to ribbons.

  She had a vague impression she’d visited this place once. Maybe more. It was brighter, livelier, filled with people and the chatter of drama and friendly banter. Now, vacant offices–what remained of them–and empty chairs remained. Artifacts of something that had once been great.

  Instinct guided her hands over the smooth glass walls until she found a tiny groove near the top just big enough to slide her fingernail into. She wiggled it around until she felt a switch flip.

  “MasaStar protocol complete,” a computerized voice chimed. Before she could question who or what spoke, the vents stopped burbling. Instead, they sucked at her feet. She stepped off the vents.

  The fluid drained quickly. Her hair drooped and plastered onto her shoulders. Pressure settled over the soles of her feet. She was standing, and it was terrible. She coughed out the fluid and it, too, was slurped away into the drain. Strangely, she found she could breathe.

  Air, unlike the fluid, was dry and thin and cold. So, so cold. She shivered. People wore clothes to protect themselves from things like the cold, didn’t they? She was a person. She needed clothes.

  No clothes to be seen, though. Nothing lay beyond ruined walls except more ruined walls. The ceiling lights were either broken or dying, plunging vast swathes of the building into darkness. Metal tables were reduced to misshapen lumps. Computers, which had been neatly tucked near the pod, were hollowed out, their glass shattered and their electronics strewn out like mechanical organs. Entrails of wire coated the concrete floor in lines of plastic and rust.

  This place was desecrated. A graveyard without bodies, apparently. She shivered again and rubbed her arms. She once strode these halls and strolled into these rooms, she was sure. The place was so familiar that she could almost see what it had looked like before, the grand technological palace it had once been. People talked to her. She used to be somebody here.

  She had a name.

  Evelyn.

  The thought jumped to the forefront of her mind, hare-like. It felt comfortable. Familiar. My name is Evelyn, she thought, and she didn’t protest that.

  Evelyn searched the rest of the glass for another switch to flip. She was halfway finished searching when a second whistle pierced the static silence. Farther this time, so it was quieter, barely audible over the sound of the drain slurping away the last of the gel.

  The rest of the world must’ve heard something different, though. The pod shook again. Cracks spread from floor to ceiling, and still the glass held strong. Gusts of debris slammed into the remaining walls and gouged out chunks. Parts of the ceiling rained down. A few more ceiling lights winked out until two remained. The rapidfire of machine guns followed, and then stifling silence.

  All Evelyn could hear was her thundering heartbeat and her shaky breaths. What was out there? She didn’t want to know, but she was morbidly curious.

  “MasaStar protocol complete. Preparation sequence activated for EV-1. Please follow the marked trail to the nearest bunker. We are currently under lockdown,” the same computerized voice chimed.

  I’m Evelyn, not EV-1, Evelyn wanted to say, but her vocal cords hadn’t quite finished flushing out the fluid.

  Slits opened at the base of the glass. Quickly, the walls dropped, and then there was nothing separating her from the harsh outside world. A cold draft blew in, chilling her wet skin. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burnt hair and rotten eggs. It was vile, wrong. Everything was wrong. This place was once beautiful and humming with life. So where did everybody go?

  Lights twinkled near where she stood. A pedestal rose out of the floor. It slowed halfway, groaned a bit, and jerked to a stop. Packaged in a layer of thin plastic was a set of silky white clothes that shimmered even in the dim lighting, matched with a pair of pale boots, gloves, and white crew socks.

  “Please wait until you are processed,” the computerized voice said. Puffs of air blew onto her and quickly dried her skin. She shivered. “You may proceed, EV-1.”

  Clothes! Evelyn wasted no time slipping her garments on. When she was done, she found a tiny handheld mirror and a pair of snow goggles tucked into a hollow beneath the pedestal.

  The goggles were just that–goggles–but the mirror shocked her. Evelyn stared at the girl with straggly hair falling to the waist, sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks. Was that supposed to be her? She traced a thumb down the reflection’s face, then her own. Pointy cheekbones. Shallow cheeks. Limp, lifeless hair.

  She had to keep moving, she knew. It was the logical choice if she didn’t want the next quake to kill her. Yet she couldn’t stop staring at the girl who couldn’t possibly be her. This girl was too skinny, too haunted. This girl was a stranger except for the identical birthmark, a little crescent at the corner of her left eye.

  Evelyn’s past was stolen, her identity erased except her name and the cloudy memories that felt more like fading dreams.

  Who was she? Evelyn’s hand trembled while returning the mirror to the pedestal. Why was she here? Who built this ruined palace of scrapped electronics and strewn debris? Thanks to the silky clothes, she was warm, yet she shivered anyway, pressing her back against the nearest intact wall. Her lungs ached with every dry gulp of air she took.

  The absence of life was more than enough to tell her everything. Whoever was here hadn’t been here for a long, long time. They left her. Evelyn touched her eyes, fingers coming away wet, before warm tears trickled down her cheeks.

  Evelyn opened her mouth and a low, raspy noise came out. “Why?” she said softly, throat tight. She could barely squeeze her next words out. “Why?”

  The world, in its callous cruelty, said nothing.

  Evelyn hiccuped. She curled up at the base of the wall and tucked her knees into her chest. She was once loved, she was sure. She remembered the warm, fuzzy sensation of belonging, of purpose, settling into her chest, the warm arms of another wrapped around her. She remembered bitter arguments and their brutish conclusions. Words had been spat then with such vigor and ferocity.

  Their contents, however, were lost to time. Evelyn once loved and had been loved. Now, she had no one except herself, and she was a poor substitute. She hated the haunted version of herself reflected back through the mirror. The girl in her memories was strong, beautiful, healthy, happy. Surrounded by people who cared about her.

  She sobbed and wiped her tears away and still they came, until they dried on her face and she noticed the cool draft of wind on her face.

  Wind? Evelyn turned and was greeted by the sight of a gaping hole where a wall used to be. Instead of twisting corridors and dusty rooms, pure white blinded her.

  Snow. Suddenly, she remembered tumbling down a little hill, laughing with someone and hurling snowballs at each other until each throw burned, so they retreated into the comfy haven of her house.

  The memory settled like a dull ache at the base of her chest. Evelyn had no more tears to give. The gnawing pit in her stomach was more than enough. She pushed herself onto her feet and approached the hole. Metal was shorn away at some point, hanging like ribbons from the ragged edges. Stuffing her gloved hands into her coat’s pockets and dragging a hood over her head, she peeked out.

  Rolling hills of blinding white stretched as far as the eye could see. Clusters of needle-like trees stood tall and proud, baring rich green leaves. Boulders studded the landscape, some little more than mounds, others the outlines of sleeping giants covered in a carpet of snow. In the horizon, the air settled into a hazy purple.

  What left Evelyn awestruck, though, was the sky. Bubblegum pink stretched like a wad of used gum over the world. Static grooves, ripples, and folds were etched into the pink sky. It was once blue, she was sure, just as sure as she was about her name. Fluffy white clouds once graced that sky instead of the dark, wrinkled folds providing contrast against the lighter pink background.

  It was beautiful, and it was wrong. She didn’t belong here. She belonged where her memories took place, with friends and love and a world that made sense. Not this. Why this? Why her? What happened while she was gone?

  Evelyn jumped at the sharp crack of metal snapping under incredible stress. Machine guns firing followed.

  “MesaStar Protocol has been activated. Your safety is under threat, EV-1. Please follow the marked trail to the nearest bunker,” the computerized voice said.

  Evelyn whirled around. Tiny dots lit up what remained of the floor, and they trailed past an intact doorway and wall before slipping out of sight.

  “What’s happening?” she said. She was keenly aware of the muffled explosions that shredded portions of the building earlier. Small miracle she hadn’t been blown to pieces yet.

  “We are currently under lockdown. MesaStar Protocol is ready. Please follow the marked trail to the nearest bunker in thirty seconds.”

  “Wait!”

  But the disembodied machine did not listen. Evelyn took one look before she took the mirror back and stumbled down the illuminated path toward the bunker. Shadows loomed in corners and revealed themselves to be hulks of ancient machinery long since rusted away. Lights lit up, and she followed them, until suddenly they stopped.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Evelyn took a step past them and met nothing but air. She shrieked, tumbling through a void, flailing her limbs until she fell into a foam pit. Tiny red lights beamed on every part of her body. They turned green, and more lights sprang alive.

  She was inside a vast cavern, so vast she couldn’t make out the other side. Pillars held up ceilings of hewn stone. Metal circles emitting yellowish light were embedded deep into the stone. Stalactites of blinking purplish metal hung from the ceiling. Dozens of semicircular metal doors remained closed, dotting the walls like freckles.

  Strange machines sat on the floor. A pale, teardrop-shaped craft sat beside a blocky, angular fighter jet. A few oval-shaped capsules lay dormant behind four triangular aircraft.

  Airplanes. Evelyn remembered fields of swaying wheat and the soft hum of airplanes drifting overhead, spraying clouds of pesticides onto crops. Those were normal compared to the freakishly overdeveloped aircraft sitting inside the cavern.

  “MesaStar Protocol has been deployed. Three… two…” The computer’s voice echoed painfully loud inside the cavern. Evelyn clapped her hands over her ears. “One.”

  Seconds later, brilliant light flooded the cavern. A terrible roar, like the final cry of a wounded creature, threatened to burst her eardrums. Moments after, a pressurized wave of heat and energy slammed into her. She stumbled back a couple of steps, hands still over her ears, while the dying light of the explosion faded away.

  “Eighty-five percent of the invaders have been eliminated,” the computer chimed. “Twelve percent are estimated to be injured or damaged beyond repair. MosaStar agents have been deployed to eliminate the remaining threat. Please stay inside the bunker, EV-1.”

  “Invaders?” Evelyn called out hoarsely. She could barely hear the computer’s announcements over her ringing ears. She stumbled a few short steps before collapsing, stomach twisting and chest constricting.

  “Eighty-nine percent of the invaders have been eliminated. Their reinforcements are estimated to arrive in approximately two hours. Contact with the ODP is null. Contact with ComSec is null. Chances of survival for all life forms in the vicinity have fallen to thirty-eight percent. Namely, you. Please stay inside the bunker, EV-1.”

  Evelyn’s head swam with the new information. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Please, tell me what’s going on.” The computer fell silent. She pushed herself to her feet and looked up, trying to find whatever cameras the disembodied voice used to keep track of her. “Where do I go? This isn’t a bunker! It’s a hangar!” A disembodied fragment of a memory completed the rest. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, either.

  Again, silence. She was growing sick of it. Here was a person, or at least a semblance of one, and it refused to talk to her. “Tell me! Why am I here? Why are you calling me EV-1?”

  Her throat was sore. Evelyn rubbed at it and glanced at the aircraft again. Was it her, or did the teardrop-shaped craft move closer to the triangular aircraft?

  It must’ve been the blast, she decided. No sooner did she turn away that she saw it.

  A pair of tinted red goggles reflected back at her. Set deep into a horned helmet, strapped onto a body that was more metal than flesh, wearing armored plates that scraped against each other, the creature stood silently like a statue. It held a gun whose barrel split into halves, with an egg-shaped space nestled between them.

  And that gun was pointed straight at her.

  Evelyn was not stupid. She recognized a threat when she saw it, even if her brains were scrambled and she wasn’t sure if she was still having a horrible dream.

  Maybe that was why she didn’t cower like a sane person would. She was sore and tired. She didn’t care what happened to her anymore. This world was not hers, and she did not belong to it.

  Whatever the case, she imagined herself like the old superheroes of her time, brave and daring and stronger than life. Nothing could stop her. She charged with nothing but her bare fists and a steely resolve that whatever happened, she couldn’t lose. She already lost the moment she woke up in this desolate world.

  All it took was a quick flash of the gun barrel to stop her. Agony exploded in her left leg. She stumbled and slammed into the ground, clutching her leg where she’d been shot. Whether it was the rapid blood loss or her dwindling sanity, she saw the filthy floor through a tiny clean hole beneath her kneecap. Blood quickly drowned the opening, and she tried pressing against the wound to stifle its flow, but the creature painfully wrenched her arms behind her back and produced a set of handcuffs from its waist.

  “Should’ve stayed in your place, yeah?” it rasped.

  The fact it spoke English was the only thing she could focus on as the creature planted its boot on her back and slipped the handcuffs on. Her skin burned. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, pinned like a bug beneath a rock that stabbed her.

  Evelyn whimpered, and the creature produced what could only be described as a snicker.

  “You’ll fetch a good price. Yes,” it said, and then it lifted its boot. She gasped for pure, fresh air, shuddering violently. “Good.”

  Four scaly hands lifted her off the ground. She was treated to a side view of the creature’s armored chest and helmet. Tiny inscriptions ran along the edges, and they glowed a dull gold.

  Kill me! Evelyn wanted to scream, but the creature stuffed an oily cloth into her mouth. She choked, twisting and trying to spit it out, throat clenched tight and stomach churning violently.

  She should’ve run. She should’ve never left the pod. She should’ve stayed until an explosion shattered the glass and pulverized her to dust.

  “MosaStar agent deployed,” the computerized voice said. The creature whipped its head around and threw her aside just as a new creature entered the cavernous bunker.

  Tall, lanky, and coated in a shimmering hue that rippled rainbow over its metallic exoskeleton, the robot agent held a gun that made her kidnapper’s look like a water pistol. They stared at each other, hands on their triggers, reddish goggles meeting a black dome encased behind thick glass and metal replacing the top half of its face.

  “Goodbye,” the agent chimed. Identical to the disembodied computerized voice.

  The creature snarled and took aim. That was all it could do when the agent dropped the gun and struck. Articulated metal hands curled into fists and punched holes straight through armor. When it retracted them with piston-like speed, silvery liquid dripped from its fingers.

  The creature's gun clattered uselessly on the floor. “Burn!” it howled, and the remaining armor inscriptions smoldered a steady gold. Flames erupted and engulfed the agent. Still, despite being coated in fire, it punched at inhuman speeds, breaking limbs and ripping off every armor piece that spit out flames until there was nothing left but a ruined body on the floor.

  Evelyn trembled as the agent knelt. She braced herself for the finishing blow, but it gently pinched her handcuffs and cracked them open. The agent stuck out a hand, still dripping in that silvery liquid that could only be blood.

  “Let me help you,” it said.

  She ripped out the cloth from her mouth and threw it as far as she could, then spat out globs of oil that left her tongue tingling. “Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing the agent’s hand and letting herself be hoisted onto her feet. She wobbled. She wiped her hand off on her clothes, leaving gray streaks. Her wounded leg stung, but the entry wound was far smaller than she expected, pin-sized, weeping blood.

  “Of course. It is not safe here, though,” the agent said. “We must leave.”

  “What’s going on? Why am I here? What–” Evelyn’s breathing hitched. She sucked in a deep breath and did her best to speak clearly. “What’s happening?”

  Just like the disembodied, synthesized voice that guided her, the agent fell silent. Evelyn clenched her fists and restrained the urge to batter them against its metallic exoskeleton.

  “Tell me!” Whispering, she added, “Please.”

  “Soon. Time is essential. You will need to plug the agent into the nearest socket. I will guide you, and the rest is up to you.” It pronounced words and mimicked airy breaths following sentences like a normal human, but there was no nose or mouth. Instead, a curved piece of smooth metal wrapped around its lower face like a scarf. “In order to ensure your survival, you will need me. I will download a copy of myself onto this agent once you plug it into the socket.”

  Evelyn glanced at the torn, ruined creature. Then the silvery blood still coating the agent’s fingers. “Why can’t you do it?” she asked. The robot looked strong enough.

  She winced, ears still tingling from the blast, as a circular door slid open and metal screeched against metal. Inside was a small room. A ribbed tube hung from the ceiling. Screens were plastered on every wall, though they sat dark, surfaces cloudy and warped.

  “You will see. Follow me,” the agent said.

  Evelyn did. She tread quietly behind the agent. Its feet clanked against the floor, every footstep making her wince. She rubbed her ears. They throbbed and ached. The slightest squeal felt like thumbnails stabbing her eardrums. Every step sent waves of liquid fire racing down her leg.

  “You’re in pain,” the agent asked, head still facing forward. Or its version of forward. It lacked the slope of the back of a human head, or the gentle curvature of a neck.

  Evelyn raised her head. “You can tell?”

  “I see omnidirectionally. Here. This will help you.”

  A tiny vial popped out of its back. The agent delicately extracted it and presented it to her. She puzzled over the silvery goo sloshing inside.

  “You took its blood?” Evelyn asked, pointing at the creature. It had long since gone still, joining the rest of the structure in eternal slumber.

  “No. This will accelerate your healing process. Drink it quickly. My data logs indicate it possesses a bitter taste.”

  She opened the vial and let the liquid drip onto her tongue. Immediately, she gagged. The bitterness brought tears to her eyes. She gulped it down and shuddered, passing the vial back to the agent, who inserted it into its back compartment and sealed it shut.

  “Thank you,” Evelyn said. Already, the pain began ebbing away, receding to the back of her mind. “What’s your name?”

  “MosaStar Commanding Operative 312-A.”

  She mulled over the name, sounding it out and deciding that if she was going to be with the agent, at least for a short while, she’d rather give it a real name. Like her old friends. The pain hadn’t quite left, but she mustered a tiny smile and rubbed her arm.

  “What about Aster?” she suggested.

  “That would be nice. My name is Aster, then.” They continued the short walk to the room until they stopped at a black and yellow striped line. “Stop here.”

  Evelyn puzzled over the dead screens, the buttons and switches spread across the sides of a table placed under the ribbed hose. “Is that where I need to plug you in?”

  Joints creaked, fans whirred, and Aster gave a nod. “Once I cross the boundary line, I will be deactivated. You will need to carry me, deposit me on the table, and connect the end of the hose here.” Its glass helmet peeled back, exposing the black glass of its omnidirectional eye and a square hole inlaid with gold and shimmering blue metal. “Once you hear a click, the download will start automatically. You do not have to worry about anything else.”

  “I don’t know if I can carry you,” Evelyn said.

  She stretched out her arms and poked them. Her wrists were cherry red from the handcuffs forced onto them, her upper arms even redder from the creature’s rough grip. Not a single muscle rose from the softness of her flesh.

  “You’re stronger than you think. What I gave you should help,” Aster said. “I will make it easier for you, though. Be ready.”

  It–or he, she thought of it as a he–took several steps back, crouched, and leapt. The moment he crossed the striped lines, he was reduced to lifeless junk. He landed on his arms and legs with a screech of metal, collapsing onto his stomach moments later like a limp mannequin.

  Evelyn gingerly stepped over the line, bracing for the worst. When nothing happened, she stood over Aster’s lifeless body and grabbed his arm. It was cold to the touch, and by itself weighed so much she was huffing just to hoist it over her shoulder.

  “Aster?” she said. The robot was silent. “I’m supposed to carry you like this?”

  His glassy domed head stared back at her. She sighed. He had warned her he’d be deactivated, after all.

  “How am I supposed to carry you?” Evelyn tugged at his arm. She huffed. She braced her feet against the smooth floor and lurched backward, miraculously dragging the robot a smidge closer to the table.

  “Step away,” a new voice said.

  Evelyn whipped around. Unlike Aster’s, this voice was markedly female. And hoarse. Too imperfect to belong to the computer running the building.

  Standing past the marked line, a hooded figure lurked beneath the wing of a triangular aircraft. Unlike the creature, the newcomer held something that made her eyes water. An impossibility, she was sure, yet the proof flickered before her. Lilac flames writhed over the newcomer’s gloved hands and forearms. Like living snakes, they arched and snapped at the air, releasing tiny motes of light that fizzled and faded.

  Nothing in Evelyn’s memories prepared her for that. “Aster!” she shrieked. No matter how hard she shook him, he didn’t stir.

  The newcomer stepped toward the edge of the line and stopped. A gray geometric mask hid her face save for a pair of fiery purple eyes. A white hood swept over her head, ending at just above her eyebrows.

  “Step away,” she said again. Her tone hardened.

  Evelyn had no weapons, no protector, no excuses left except to attack and inevitably get captured again, or worse. She played the only card she had left. “Leave, or another agent will kill you,” she said, breathless. Her hands started to shake, so she crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

  A ghost from her past once taught her that, she was sure. She couldn’t be seen as weak. It helped that the creature’s ruined corpse was visible, proof that yes, Evelyn wasn’t lying.

  For a second, the newcomer said nothing. They stared at each other, two souls from what might as well have been two different worlds locked into a cruel conflict Evelyn didn’t want to fight. But Aster made it very clear. It was kill or die. No alternatives.

  “They’re tied up elsewhere, sweetie.” The woman’s voice dripped with honeyed sweetness. Evelyn shuddered. She squared her shoulders and planted herself in front of Aster.

  “They’ll arrive any minute,” she said. “Leave and never come back.”

  “Sweetie,” the woman said. Evelyn refused to listen to a word she said. “Step aside and don't look. You may be blinded.” The woman reared her arm back. A sphere of distorted lilac light condensed like a bowling ball, materializing around her fingers.

  “No!” Evelyn cried out.

  “Step away!”

  The last thing she saw was a ball of hot and blinding light.