Designed : A Young Adult Dystopian Romance

I got my answer when I stepped off the commuter train.

Downtown Atlanta was larger and louder than I ever could have imagined. I’d seen vids, of course, fictional and reality. But seeing something on a wallscreen and seeing it in person were two different things.

Buildings of every shape and size crowded together, stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions. Some of them shifted in appearance as their double-skinned glass exteriors showed advertising vids or just morphed from one pretty image to another.

Impossibly tall skyscrapers nearly blocked out the sky, though it was no great loss. The sky here was not blue but an unappealing brownish haze.

Vehicles moved along the roads as well as overhead through criss-crossing suspended tunnels.

The noise was like nothing I’d ever heard, a cacophony of hums and roars and horns and electronic tones.

And the smells. As soon as the train had stopped and the doors slid open, a smorgasbord of scents assaulted my nostrils, some pleasant, some repulsive.

Food, garbage, the combined perfumes and bodily odors of millions of residents.

It appeared every one of them was currently occupying the streets below, jostling for space on the crowded sidewalks or maneuvering their hover vehicles in the tightly packed traffic.

I descended the moving stairs from the station to the street level. The buildings around me were so tall and close together they blocked any view of the horizon.

There were digital street signs, which was a good thing. I wished I’d thought to look up the Gideon Corp address on my holoconnect before leaving home.

But then, no, it was best I hadn’t. The first thing my parents would do when they discovered me missing was check my digital records.

The second thing they’d do was contact Ketta, who thankfully had no idea of my whereabouts.

The next thing… well, I didn’t want to think about that right now.

The good news was I was off the radar, untraceable. The bad news was, without the device I’d grown up so dependent upon, I’d have to figure out another way to find the location of the Gideon headquarters.

Merging with the pedestrian traffic, I started looking for a friendly face. Surely many people in the city knew where Gideon Corp was located and wouldn’t mind giving me directions.

Of course, anyone near my age would be in school, so all I saw were adults, young ones, middle-aged, no old ones of course.

Most of them speed-walked past me, busy people with places to go. They were all so interesting looking, wearing such a variety of clothing styles, colors, patterns. A woman hurried by in a Tommy Hilfiger hijab.

Another spilled coffee on her white blouse, cursed, then tapped her sleeve and changed the garment’s color to a dark brown to hide the stain—all within seconds.

A man stopped at the corner and asked his shoes which way to turn, pausing as an electronic voice spouted Google maps directions.

A few people returned my gaze, but I couldn’t say they looked exactly “friendly” and open to helping a stranger. They glanced at me and quickly away.

Okay then. City people were obviously different from the base residents.

One older man did look directly at me, but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak to him, he wrinkled his nose in apparent disgust and walked away.

Behind him a pair of women shot me alarmed glances then turned and whispered to each other.

My pulse kicked into a panicky pace. Did they know I was from the base somehow?

Were they contemplating reporting me for skipping school?

Probably not. There was no way they could know where I was from, but the thought made me feel even more self-conscious than I already did.

It didn’t help when a voice called out, “Hey you—five-foot-six, dark brown hair.”

I spun around, my heart thundering, but then I relaxed. It was only a shop window.

One of the ever-changing visual displays was showing an image of me wearing a super-short red dress from the store’s Fall line.

“Check you out in our new fun and flirty Cherry Bomb design,” the salesy electronic voice continued. “Order now and find it waiting on your doorstep when you get home.”

When I turned to keep walking, the bot’s voice rose in volume. “Get it for thirty percent off if you come back and order within the next five minutes.”

Despite the fact I’d never wear anything called a Cherry Bomb or be making any traceable digital purchases, I had to give the bot credit for persistence.

I continued down the bustling sidewalk, not really sure where I was going and beginning to despair that I’d ever encounter anyone, biological or virtual, willing to help me with anything other than making impulse buys.

Finally, I spotted something useful in front of a shop advertising imported duck, goose, and chicken in its large window.

An infobot—I’d seen them on the news vids. It could give me information about Gideon.

I worked my way to the inside of the sidewalk and pulled out the money I’d stashed in my pocket, setting my backpack on the sidewalk between my feet so I could feed payment into the bot.

It woke with a series of pleasant tones, a happy-sounding jingle. The words Informational Assistance Network scrolled across the display screen.

“Hello. I’m IAN. How may I help today?”

There was the friendly voice I’d been hoping for—too bad it had come from a machine instead of a person. I’d never used one of these things. Heck, I’d never needed to ask for directions before, but it seemed pretty straightforward.

“I need information on Gideon Corp please.”

“One moment,” the bot answered in a voice that sounded neither male nor female but something in between.

Its screen-face filled with the Gideon logo.

“Gideon Corp, founded in 1995 as an online retail outlet, quickly branched into technology development and is now the world’s largest manufacturer and supplier of technology products, ranging from holoconnectors, to vehicles, to life-saving and enhancing biomedical technologies, to assistive robots like the one you’re interacting with now.”

“Not that much information,” I said, adding a quick, “Thank you,” so as not to seem rude. Which was silly. Bots couldn’t be insulted.

“Where’s it located?”

At my interruption, the infobot stopped speaking, pausing a moment while emitting a low whirring sound before speaking again.

“Following the loss of its Southern California location due to uncontrollable repeat wildfires, Gideon Corp’s global headquarters moved to Atlanta, Georgia. The Atlanta facility houses Gideon’s research and development branch as well as the offices of its founder and CEO, Apollo Gideon.”

Throughout the short tutorial, vids of catastrophic fires and then a shimmering high-rise building played on the screen.

I noticed there was no photo of Apollo Gideon to go with his bio. The billionaire industrialist was notoriously camera-shy and reclusive, rarely seen in public and opting to have junior officers at his company address the news media whenever it became necessary.

“What’s the address?” I asked the bot. Apparently you had to be super-specific with these things.

“One Gideon Boulevard, Atlanta, Georgia.”

“Great. Can you give me walking directions from this location?” I said, getting the hang of it.

“Fifty blocks north on Peachtree Thoroughfare. Left turn. Twenty blocks on Peachtree Street. Estimated walking time one-point-seven-five hours. Public transport recommended.”

“No kidding.” I chuckled. The whole base wasn’t that large.

I felt like I’d already walked miles today, so I was happy to take the bot’s suggestion.

Now that I thought about it, I probably should have hailed public transport in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend money asking for the location of the headquarters. The car could have done my research for me.

Well, I was new at this. Live and learn.

I turned toward the street, watching sleek vehicles whizz by in a near-blur. It was obvious which ones were rental transports and which were private cars, but I’d never hailed a taxi before in my life.

People in the old vids stood at the curb and held up a hand. I tried it, and for good measure, said rather loudly, “Stop,” followed by, “please.”

It worked. A black and white rounded rental unit zoomed to my side of the road, hovering a foot off the ground and rocking side to side a bit as if impatient for me to get in.

The door opened, and I slid into the passenger compartment. As soon as my feet touched the floor, the door slid closed again.

An electronic voice asked, “Where to?”

It sounded rather conversational for a car, even had a light accent of some sort.

“Gideon Corp headquarters. It’s at—”

“One Gideon Boulevard. Please prepare for departure,” the car responded and darted back into the flow of traffic so fast I lurched to the side in my seat and had to brace my arm against the door.

Within five minutes we reached the destination. IAN the infobot had described the headquarters as “glittering.”

Maybe it was—above the fifteen-foot-high solid steel fences.

From my perspective it looked like a massive granite and metal fortress with enough security to keep out several armies.

How was I ever going to get in? I couldn’t even see a front entrance.

The transport thanked me for my business, asked for payment, and once I’d inserted the cash, opened the rear doors, instructing me to exit the vehicle and have a nice day.

“Oookay then. What now?” I said aloud, staring up at the imposing fence surrounding the Gideon property.

Was I going to stand outside the gates yelling ‘Heath’ at the top of my lungs? That would get me exactly nowhere, unless you counted the mental health facilities.

I sat on the ultra-clean curb and lifted my hair away from the damp skin at the back of my neck.

So, the place was a little bigger than I’d expected.

A lot bigger. I needed to think and regroup here.

I knew Heath drove a delivery van, but the facility was so massive it was bound to have many entrances and exits. And perhaps dozens of delivery vans, hundreds even.

What were the chances I’d just happen to see him? He might not have even been working today.

Maybe I could walk the perimeter of the fence and watch to see where the vans went in and out?

The smart thing to do would have been to flag down another rental transport and tell it to drive me back to the base.

Maybe my parents wouldn’t kill me if I got home before dark.

But I couldn’t do that.

Not yet.

Not before I’d exhausted all my options. I’d left home for a reason, and as far as I knew, that reason still existed.

If I went back to the base now, my parents would rush me directly to Dr. Rex’s office, and then who knew what would happen? I might forget I’d ever seen Heath the way Ketta had forgotten suggesting we ditch school together.

The thought sent a cool shiver down my back.

Getting to my feet again, I walked along the fence until I reached a corner. Turning it, I spotted what had to be the front entrance.

There was a recessed area in the security wall where a driveway led to a tall gate. In front of it was a group of about twenty to thirty people.

They were neither going inside the facility nor leaving it but rather standing in a clump. A few of them held signs.

As I got close enough to read the signs, I realized who the protesters were—Pioutisticals, religious extremists I’d seen on the news vids from time to time.

I didn’t know what they were in favor of, only what they hated—Gebbies.

The term was a nickname for Genetically Engineered Beings, lab-grown humans manufactured by Gideon Corp to work in the factories and service jobs left vacant by those who’d perished in the Calamity and that weren’t suitable for robot labor.

I didn’t want to tangle with the protesters. I only wanted to get inside and find Heath, and I assumed being associated with hostile protesters wouldn’t help my cause.

So I gave them a wide berth and approached a small building near the gate I assumed was a security hut.

Maybe I could simply walk up and get a visitor badge like visitors to the air force base wore? Maybe Gideon Corp only looked like an impenetrable fortress.

Before I reached the hut two men came out of nowhere, each of them armed and wearing intimidating expressions.

Nope, it was a fortress, and it came fully equipped with soldiers.

One of them was tall with broad shoulders and a long face. The other was much shorter, but burly, built like a bulldog.

“Who are you?” the stocky guard demanded.

At the same time, the taller guard barked, “Why are you trying to access Gideon property?”

“I’m not with them.” I hooked a thumb at the chanting group behind me.

My gaze bounced between the two highly annoyed men. “Am I in the wrong place for visitor check-in?”

“Admittance is by appointment only, and only for cleared and chipped persons.” The short guard waved an electronic wand in front of me from my head to my shoes before announcing, “Your chip’s not authorized.”

“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to… listen, I changed my mind anyway, I’ll leave. Sorry to have troubled you. Have a good day.”

The words came out rapid fire as I back-stepped away from them then turned toward the street, planning to walk away as quickly as my feet would carry me.

A loud squawking sound stopped me and turned me back around. The guard holding the scanning wand was staring at his hand where the device had come to life, pulsing with bright light and continuing to emit the piercing noise.

He shook it, but the noise continued.

The other guard gawked as well. “What is that? I’ve never seen one do that before.”

The two men simultaneously lifted their eyes to my face. They moved toward me once again, clearly intending to grab me this time—no more questions.

I spun and started running but got only a few steps before they caught me.

“Come with us please,” one of them said as they turned me around and dragged me toward the guard house.

If I hadn’t been so freaked out, I might have laughed at the polite wording. Because it had not been a request.

They were forcing me into the guard house, and I had no idea why. Was it really a crime to even approach the outer gates of the facility?

“Let me go,” I demanded.

My heart thrashed in my chest like the fish at the base’s freshwater aquaculture farm. “I didn’t do anything. I’ll leave and never come back if you just let me go.”

“Put her in there,” the burly guard said to the other one. “I’ll call it in and see what they want to do with her.”

“What who wants to do with me? What is happening?”

I stumbled along with the tall guard as he marched me toward a door leading to who-knew-where.

A white Gideon delivery van pulled up to the guard house, rebellious 20’s speed metal music blaring from its open windows.

The shorter guard greeted the operator with a smile and friendly tone.

“Heath. How’s it going buddy?”