Leave Your Love at The Gate

The bulletins made it very clear, as did the pamphlets, and the line-maintenance drones, and the few human personnel on-duty: all emotional contraband must be discarded before Package holders could clear the Passover Gate and board the train. What precisely constituted “emotional contraband” was vaguely defined, but Ayla understood it to mean “any object that carries deep sentimental and/or emotional value for its owner.” She had purged her luggage of all possessions that fit this description, save for one.

“You should just drop it somewhere. If you bring it all the way up there, they might question your… you know, your commitment.” Calder put his calloused hand on her exposed shoulder. His fingertips were cold as ice to the touch, and sent a chill reverberating through her whole body. His hand recoiled, but she grabbed it back and held it tight, as if her warmth could melt through the skin that jaded him.

“I know. I do, really… I know. I just need another minute.” She pulled one of her hands away from his and touched it to the golden heart dangling from her neck by a thin chain.

“You’ve said that like five times now. Will you just let me toss the thing already?”

She pulled her other hand away from him.

“It’s not just a thing.”

“You’re right. It’s—”

Calder was interrupted by a shrill snarling sound. Behind Ayla in line was an old man, and at his side a big German Shepherd strung up to a short, fraying leash. Since entering the line with its owner, the dog took up a ritual of growling at the drones and guards whenever they passed by. Calder took this as a signal to adjust his posture and disposition accordingly so as not to attract unwanted attention from the line-maintenance personnel. Once the dog quieted and the guard was well-past, he loosened up a bit and continued.

“It’s emotional contraband. If they catch you with it at the Gate, they won’t let you on the train.”

Ayla’s fingers passed over the keyhole in the locket. Her nails caught on the crisp edges of the empty slot. She wished she could open it one last time.

“When did you get rid of yours? I didn’t see you do it.”

Calder darted his eyes about, landing his gaze everywhere but on her. “I chucked it in a bin when you weren’t looking. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it or anything.”

Ayla scoffed. “They really are just things to you, aren’t they? Just some stupid things that you don’t care about at all?!”

She attracted stares from down the line going both ways. The guard that had just passed them by broke off from its usual patrol route to assess the situation. It approached and stopped mere inches away from Calder, causing the dog to start right back up.

“Is there an issue?” The guard asked with a voice so default, they could hardly tell whether it was human or android.

“None at all.” Calder responded in the most blank tone he could muster. The guard's face—if it even had one—was completely obscured by its all-black visor, which was so glossy Calder could see his reflection in it. His skin was firmed and spotted in a fashion characteristic of someone twice his age, and his eyes appeared drained of all their color. The sight unsettled him; it appeared as if he himself was trapped inside that plasticky armor. He only hoped that, through its tinted visor, the guard wouldn't notice his hands shaking.

Evidently, it either didn't notice or didn't care, because it turned its attention towards Ayla instead. It raised its baton to the amulet resting between her collarbones. She did not flinch. She was not shaking.

It spoke again. “Such paraphernalia is typically associated with emotions that are highly discouraged in the Interior City. Are you aware of this?”

Ayla pursed her lips to seal away any rebellious remarks, and bobbed her head in confirmation. Despite being at least a foot and a half taller than her, the guard didn't tilt its head down to meet her gaze. She couldn't see herself reflected off its faceless visage like Calder could.

“Then you know what to do,” the guard said as it clinked its stick against the locket, prompting the dog beside them to start barking and pouncing. The owner tugged at the feeble leash and shouted all kinds of obscenities to make it stop, but to no avail. The creature only calmed down once the guard disengaged and continued making its rounds.

Calder exhaled sharply upon its departure and tried desperately to catch a full breath despite the toxicity of the air. Ayla squatted down beside the dog, who sniffed at her locket. She checked the dog's tag, which, funnily enough, was also heart-shaped.

She laughed. "Hey, wouldja look at that! We're matching..."

Ayla read off the dog's name.

"Ohh, Maggie! What a pretty name. You're such a good girl, protecting us from that meanie. Who's a good girl? You are!"

Ayla scanned Maggie's matted fur and scratched at the first clean-ish spot she could find. Maggie sputtered like an engine and spun her tail all around like a propeller, thumping it against the floor repeatedly.

Maggie's owner broke up the moment by pulling hard on the leash.

"What the hell?!" Ayla exclaimed in a hushed tone as she popped to her feet.

The owner spoke in a scratchy southern drawl.

"I don't wantchu rewardin' my girl for bad behavior."

Ayla was about ready to start yelling again, but Calder put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head, as if to wordlessly say 'there's no point.' Ayla looked back down at Maggie one last time; the poor dog looked so sad and tired. But then, Ayla thought, don't we all?

She turned back to Calder and touched her hand to her locket once more. He spoke to her with the same austerity in tone that he spoke to the guard with.

“You're right," Calder said. "They’re not just things. That’s why we have to get rid of them. Because if we don’t, we’re going to lose a lot more than just necklaces.”

Ayla tried to appear unfazed by the difficult truth, but the lonely tear sinking down her cheek exposed how she really felt. Calder wiped it away with his thumb, which felt more like leather to the touch than it did human skin. Still, she found some small comfort in the action. It affirmed what she had been trying to remind herself all along: no matter what they left behind, at least they'd have each other.

Calder continued, carefully reaching around her and removing the pendant as he spoke. “You worked so hard to get us here. I don’t want to jeopardize that for anything, you know?”

He held it before her so she could steal one last look, before curling his fingers over it like a protective shell. She lost track of it after that, but she figured he must have discarded it somewhere along the way as invisibly as he did his own.

An hour later, they were near the end of the line. The train was not far off. The blue LEDs gilding its chassis set aglow the smoke surging forth from its undercarriage. This haze stretched itself across the entirety of the landing platform and wavered like a steady sea. Ayla had never seen colors so bright, besides perhaps red.

Whenever someone else was called up, Ayla recognized herself embodied in their gait. The quickness in their step matched the eagerness of her own heart's beating. All that stood between her and her new life was the fabled Passover Gate, or 'Automaton Gauntlet' as some called it. Ayla couldn't understand why people dreaded it so much when it appeared to be nothing more than a lone metal detector.

Whatever the case, she'd find out soon enough. The absence of her locket made her feel naked in a way that true nakedness couldn't compare to, but she also felt secure in the lack. It was the only thing holding her back, she thought. And so, with it gone, she must be ready.

Calder was ahead of her in line, facing forward and waiting patiently for his time. She tapped his shoulder and smiled at him widely when he turned around. He hardly reciprocated. The closer he came to the Gate, the more he seemed to shut down, as if he was already going through the Gauntlet in his mind.

He glanced over her head at what he was leaving behind. The lights were dim and dying at the entrance of the train station. Groans and cries of lost souls from outside reminded him of people he had once known, and long since lost. The stench of death and burnt goods was not gone indoors, only diluted. He could still catch a hint of it riding the breeze that billowed in through broken windows. He figured that only upon boarding the train would that scent vanish from his life forever.

People often debated whether it was worth forsaking everything you’d ever felt anything for, and spending all that money to buy the Passover Package, all to uproot your life and go to a place some people didn’t even believe existed: a place where humans walked the streets with androids and you could hardly tell which was which; a pocket of the world untouched by war, famine, crime, poverty, and mass extermination; somewhere you wouldn’t have to fear losing everything you loved, because there were more than enough lovely things to go around.

For Calder, the decision was easy. He could stay in the slums and die randomly and unceremoniously before he turned thirty, or he could leave for a price that meant very little to him in the first place: a necklace, and similar baggage. He looked ahead at the Gate and did not turn back for anything.

Ayla caught a glimpse of an elderly couple up ahead who were holding hands as they boarded, which seemed magical and romantic to her. She couldn’t tell that it was a loveless formality between two people long since emotionally detached from one another.

“We should go through like that,” she said to Calder, who didn’t respond. She chalked his silence up to nerves, and didn’t hold it against him. He was almost up, after all.

“Next!”

Calder stepped forward and placed his luggage on the belt beside him. The attendant at the scanner said a few words to him—nothing he hadn’t already heard, and nothing he took any issue with. He stepped into the Gate, stood there for a few seconds, and was admitted passage by a bright blue light that lit up around him. Ayla smiled, expecting him to turn back to her all excitedly. Instead, he nonchalantly grabbed his luggage and started walking across the misty field. She strained to rationalize his apathy. He must’ve just wanted to get them good seats. Or, he must’ve just been eager to board. Who wouldn’t be? Or—

“Next!”

Ayla jerked from her lapse in focus, and approached the Gauntlet.

“Ma’am, does anything on or near your person at this time elicit any emotions in violation of the terms and conditions which you have agreed to?”

She reached a hand to her neck out of momentary forgetfulness, but the locket was gone, so she answered, “no.”

“Please step forward.”

Ayla complied, positioning herself central in the metal frame. It whirred to life and made all sorts of clanging metallic sounds as it picked at her brain, or her soul, or whatever. She paid it no mind, and was focused only on Calder as he shrank away into the fog.

After a few seconds of stillness, she couldn't contain herself anymore. She took a step forward and called out to him.

“Hey, babe, hold up!”

The scanner lit up red all around her.

“Ma’am, please step out of line,” the attendant instructed.

“Wait, what? What happened? I—”

“Our sensors indicate strong emotional attachment to something on or near your person at this time. You have violated the terms of your agreement by failing to discard all emotional contraband—"

Ayla rose her voice. “Was it because I, you know—because I spoke, because I can go through again. I’ll be quiet this time.”

“That will not be necessary. If you would like to attempt Passover again, you will have to re-purchase the Passover Package after a six month buffer period. For now, please step out of line.”

“Six months?! Who the Hell says I'll even be able to survive that long out there?! No, I—I threw it away. I threw the locket away! I threw away everything that I cared about! Everything I had! What else is there?!”

The attendant sighed, as if he had explained this a million times before.

“What constitutes emotional contraband is unique to every individual. Typically, it consists of items that carry deep—”

"Deep sentimental and/or emotional value. Yeah, I got that. I've got nothing like that left."

"Ma'am, please let me finish. While this is the most common form of emotional contraband we encounter, we have on occasion found more abstract assets such as locations, pets, and people to be detected as emotional contraband."

Ayla hardly had time to process. She had no home nearby by to miss. She had no dog, or cat, or parrot in her life to bring her comfort. She only had Calder.

"Are you saying it's him? Are you saying I can't... I can't go to the Interior with the man I love?"

She closed the gap between herself and the attendant, who didn’t appear particularly intimidated by her whatsoever. She was the same devastated person he had seen countless times, just with another new face.

“You can’t do this. You can not fucking do this! I worked for years to get here. You can’t just… not let me through! What, I have to just live like some loveless drone, and pretend that I don’t care about anything, or anyone? I'm a fucking human! Fuck that! And fuck you!"

She broke off from the attendant and stepped further into the mist.

"Babe! Calder!”

Calder did not freeze, or pause, or show any hesitation at all. He just kept fading away into the deep blue. Suddenly, she wasn’t furious because she couldn’t pass the Gauntlet, but because he could, and he did.

She marched after him, but was halted by a massive pain in her stomach that dropped her to the ground. Another crashed down on her back, and another, until everything was smoke. She felt like she was drowning. But instead of water flooding in through her mouth, it was rising up from inside her. And it wasn't water at all; it tasted like metal.

After the blows ceased, she could feel herself rising off the floor, being lifted and dragged away by who knows who. The last discernable thing she could see before everything faded away was the man she loved disappear into a mass of azure clouds. She swallowed down blood as her eyes rolled the world from blue, to red, to black.

____________

The slumber was long, and much-needed. He might've slept far longer had he not been disturbed by a warm feeling on his palm, which he thought at first might be Ayla's hand touching his own. Except, there was a peculiar wetness to the sensation. Was he wiping away her tears? Was he the reason she was crying?

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the train, right where he left off. The same smell of lavender that lulled him to sleep now greeted him as he awoke. The seat beside his was vacant, and in front of it was the dog from earlier—Maggie—licking away at his hand.

"Hey there..." Calder said quietly.

He reached his hand back out to Maggie and awkwardly, but gently, patted her head. After getting a bit more comfortable, he searched out the same spot Ayla found earlier and scratched at it. Maggie drooled on his arm happily.

"You didn't strike me as a dog person," Maggie's owner said.

"Honestly, neither did you," Calder responded bluntly.

"Heh, guess I'm not. I used to be. Not anymore, though."

"Then, why'd you bring her along?"

The man looked at Maggie, then back at Calder, and shrugged.

"'Cause I could."

Maggie started sniffing at Calder's pocket. This made him uncomfortable, so he nudged her away, stuffed his hand in the pocket, and started fidgeting thoughtlessly with what was inside.

The man chuckled. "Ye-he-heah, I'd push her away, too. They catch you gettin' too lovey dovey in the Interior, they'll have you sent back in a heartbeat. The Gauntlet doesn't end just 'cause you got on the train, y'know."

Outside Calder's window, the slums raced by. In the distance, miscellaneous towers of black smog reached into the grey sky, and every so often a plume of rosy fire would spit out from some nameless alley. Buildings would descend out of sight here and there, and all he could think about was how insignificant it all seemed from afar. Like a miniature that some bored God could just run its fist through whenever it pleased. The year’s cleansing cycle had just begun, which meant things were about to get a whole lot worse.

He turned back to the man and asked for his name. It was Brian.

"Brian, did you see what happened to my—to the woman I was with?"

Brian chuckled again, which devolved into a gurgling cough. Once he had opened his throat back up enough, he answered.

"What, that broad? She tried to chase after you, so the guards beat 'er senseless, and dragged 'er away when it was lights out."

Calder figured that was more or less what happened, but he couldn't be sure without asking. All he had to go off of was the sounds: the sound of her crying out his name; the sound of her flesh being pulverized into putty; the sound of her choking on her own blood. Yet, for as awful as these were, they meant almost nothing to him. He'd heard them so many times, from so many people, that he grew numb to them. They were the ambient sounds of the world.

The train rattled as a nearby sky-rise toppled over and crashed into another. This caused a chain reaction of buildings pushing each other down like dominos until all that remained was smoke, sirens, and screams. Calder shut the blinds over his window to block out the visual calamity, while the cacophony of sounds melted together into a morbid, but familiar, white noise.

Brian continued. "I dunno if she died then and there, or what. But for her sake, I hope so. Things are lookin' pretty grim this year."

Calder didn't say anything in response. He didn't know what he hoped happened to Ayla, or if he even cared at all.

"Did you love her?" Brian asked candidly.

Calder tightened a fist around the metal in his pocket.

"No. I mean... not anymore. I thought I did in the beginning. But, I guess... after spending so much time being afraid..."

"Fear becomes the only thing that matters anymore, right? It's like breathing. Everything else falls by the wayside."

Brian stared down at Maggie, and for a moment there was a shared glimmer in their eyes: the hint that maybe there was once mutual love between them. But, as Brian pulled his eyes off her, the glimmer broke away into shadows. He continued.

"Everything else just feels like... Accessories. Things to keep on you 'cause they're cute, beautiful, familiar, whatever. And if they start to get in the way of what really matters, you just strip 'em off and throw 'em out."

Calder looked ahead a few seats to see the elderly couple from earlier. They were so still and quiet; they could have died the moment they sat down and nobody would've had a clue. Their hands were still conjoined, adorning each other's calcified bodies like...

"Accessories..." Calder murmured.

He pulled out the thing he'd been toying with in his pocket. Maggie's ears perked up at the sight and smell. Calder's fingertips were so hardened that they didn't sink into the keyhole at all as he rubbed Ayla's heart-shaped locket.

He reached into his other pocket and removed another pendant—a golden key, laced up to a chain he often forgot was around his neck. He held the two of them close. They seemed so tiny in his hands, and so insignificant. He wasn't entirely sure why he even still had them. Perhaps he had forgotten to dispose of them. Or, perhaps, he kept them deliberately, simply because he could.

Overtaken by curiousity, he nearly inserted the key into the slot, but ultimately decided against it. He wasn't even sure what was inside anymore, if anything at all. Ayla was always asking him to unlock it for her so she could swap around its contents. Nothing ever felt quite right in there. Nothing truly fit.

A robotic voice piped up over the intercom.

"Attention passengers. If you look out your window, you will see that we are quickly approaching the Interior City. Congratulations! Your new life begins now."

Calder thrust open the blinds and peered out the window to see in the near distance a skyline of towers bathed in blue light.

"If you'll look in your overhead compartments, you will find that each of you have been granted a standard issue dual-purpose filtration helmet. We strongly advise you to wear your helmets outdoors at all times to protect your lungs from our atmosphere's air, and your eyes from light pollution."

The helmet in the compartment was much like the one that the guards back at the station wore, similar right down to the lack of visibility through its visor.

Calder tuned out all further instructions. When he glanced out the window again, they were well within the Interior, gliding past clean streets and pristine buildings. Every pedestrian wore one of a few select outfits, all topped with the same signature helmet. He could see himself in each and every one of them: the way they walked like they had somewhere to be; the way they didn't stop or slow down for anything, not even each other; the way you couldn't tell if they were happy, or sad, or terrified.

The necklaces were still in Calder's hands. He had forgotten them again. It was about time he got rid of them, he decided. At best, there was no point in keeping them around any longer. At worst, it could be dangerous. What if there was something inside the heart after all? What if it unearthed some suppressed feelings or sentimentality within Calder? No point in creating emotional contraband out of things he never cared for before. It just wasn't worth the risk.

So, he pawned them off on the next cabin attendant that passed down the isle. She was overjoyed to receive such a generous 'tip,' but quickly calmed down in fear of being reprimanded for an 'emotional outburst.' And that's when it hit Calder: he hadn't escaped fear. He simply dressed it up in all new clothes, gave it a new face, and doused it in blinding blue light.

He'd live the rest of his days afraid of his own head and heart; afraid of ever feeling anything ever again; "a loveless drone," as Ayla had so passionately decried.

With quivering hands, he grabbed the helmet and stared into his reflection. He looked the same as ever.

"What was that you gave 'er?" Brian asked.

Calder's breath trembled as he sank the helmet down onto his head. His voice emanated from it filtered and metallic, like some kind of android.

"Accessories."