Metal Hearts

The information society injects its cerebral juices of cyber shit through stiffened spines. Our Griot reminds us that we had a choice. Become an organism not born and raised but conceived and developed, or run while you pray for sanctuary. Steel mesh skin, mechanized organs; this is the new world.

I am Shay, and my people chose to flee. With nothing but what we could carry on our backs, my clan ran down the long desolate highways until the concrete crumbled. We vowed never to change who we are in the body or spirit, so we remain the last organic humans.

We are a nomadic clan, wandering the forests and valleys that Mother nature has lent us. We learned to hunt and live through the old ways. Tonight the Griot, old and wrinkled, adjusts the wolf skin around her shoulders and tells the story of our great escape. She only does this during special ceremonies, and tonight the occasion is my wedding. When the Griot finishes, she hands the staff to my father, and everyone gathers around us.

"Ingwaz!" Deep and commanding, I hear my father's voice, "You are the bravest of warriors, honorable above all else. So I give you my daughter Shay as your wife." His words make me flinch; I am now a wife. Ingwaz is strong, with bronze skin and sharp features. He moves forward, the fire reflecting against his long black braids as he reaches a hand for me. I grasp it tightly and open my other palm to accept his gift. It is a golden heart-shaped locket. My eyes go wide, for it is lovely. Ingwaz ventured near the cities to find this. I see a look of approval on my father's face as he speaks the words that will tether us together in this world and perhaps the next.

The Griot pulls a knife from her sheath and cuts off a piece of Ingwaz's hair. He remains unmoving even as she hacks on his braid without restraint. Placing the lock of hair inside, she snaps the locket shut and fastens the chain around my neck. The metal is unnaturally warm against my skin. I touch it and smile up at my new husband before tucking it under the soft leather of my shirt. It is done, so we feast and dance and drink until the world spins around us like a stary dream.

When the night is nearly over, Ingwaz guides me to our home. He pulls the bear skin flap open and places my few possessions inside. The air smells of cedar and earth; it smells of him. There are soft fur skins on the ground and a fire pit with a tea kettle filled with steamy hot water. The embers of the fire give light and warmth, and my heart beats harmoniously. I look down again at the heavy locket that will symbolize our union and smile to myself.

Ingwaz walks up behind me, whispering in my ear, "Do you like it?"

Turning to him, I answer by pulling my shirt over my head. I let him take me; it is rough and passionate. I pray to Mother Earth that I may bear him a child. When we are done, I am dizzy and exhausted. He brings me a drink, and I rest my head on his chest, letting the sounds of his beating heart lull me to sleep.

I dream of many beautiful and terrible things until I wake up drenched in sweat. Morning has come, and Ingwaz is dressing swiftly; I sit up as he tosses me my clothes and sword. Only then do I hear the commotion and know we are being attacked.

"How?"

He doesn't answer me because the how is not important. He throws open the tent and is running before I can finish pulling on my boots. This is not my first fight, but it has been many months between; I feel anxious and off-balance. My weapon gleams brightly in the early morning light, the steel is cold but familiar, and I roll the sword over in my hand to gain my bearings. Cyborgs are everywhere, but they seem preoccupied. They are searching for something. This is not a regular round-up of humans for harvest and slavery. They rip the clothes of the dead away, upturning baskets, and empty our tents.

I see Maka, one of our strongest warriors. She holds a dagger in each hand. Nimble as a cat, she waits in the shadows until an unsuspecting soldier rounds the corner. She pounces on his back, screaming out a war cry while driving both daggers into the sides of his neck. Blood sprays her face, and she rides him to the ground as if he were a wild horse she was trying to break. Sparks fly from his wounds, and his altered eyes fade from bright red to a dull, lifeless grey. Maka lets out a howl of victory as she frees her daggers from the mess of circuitry and flesh.

I hear a familiar click, and I spin around to face a female soldier. She is raising her gun to my head. This cyborg is fast, but I am faster. I bring my sword up and over, taking her hand in one move. A shriek of fury and pain pierces my ears. The weapon falls harmlessly to the ground as she stares at the stump in shock; wires and bits of gore dangle from the wound. I lunge forward, and my blade catches her under the chin and through the top of her helmet. Today the grim reaper is on my side.

So many of our people are dead, but I have no time to weep. I hear the blades of our enemy's helicopters low in the sky. They make a "whop whop whop" sound as they hover nearby. I turn around and see Ingwaz fighting two Cyborgs. He swings his mighty sword, keeping both soldiers off their balance. A loud crack rings out, and then blood sprays the snowy ground as a bullet stings Ingwaz like a wasp. He barely acknowledges the pain; instead, he transfers the blade to his good arm and slashes it out again and again. More shots ring out, but none hit their mark.

Even the best warriors have finite skills. You can always be outnumbered, as we are now. With no other choice, we run! We run to save our children, to save ourselves, we run because to stay is death.

It has been three weeks, and still, we are hard-pressed. Our clan has separated to ensure that at least some of us will survive. Only when it is safe again will we meet in our main camp we call the Grove. It is well hidden and provides us shelter through the harsh winter months.

As the days go by, my hope starts to fade. The gunshot in Ingwaz's arm is infected; we are tired and what little food we gathered is almost gone. Unwilling to risk giving away the location of the Grove, we continue to move further and further away. Each footstep is more painful than the last until we collapse, too tired to go on. My husband's fever warms me as I dream of war and death.

I am not sure how long I slept. Ingwaz wakes me gently, placing a finger to his lips so that I know to be silent. I do not hear any helicopters, but I trust him, and we prepare to move. The forest is unnaturally quiet; we both sense something is very wrong. Our soft leather moccasins barely make a sound as we work our way through the tree line.

We only make it twenty yards when the cyborgs appear from out of nowhere. The largest of them steps forward; thin lines of green and yellow lights course through his face in a brilliant repetitive neon display. He is even bigger than my husband, most likely from an enhancement. Unable to accept defeat, Ingwaz lunges for the cyborg only to be tackled by metal soldiers. Ingwaz fights hard, but their strength cannot be outdone, and soon he is held in submission. I cry out to him, but he only stares back at me with a look of agony and grief on his handsome face.

I hear twigs snapping, and then I see a female approach; she is holding a small bundle. Fear paralyzes me as the male cyborg grabs me by the neck, lifting me off the ground and pushing me against a tree with immeasurable strength. I hear my husband bellow out my name.

To my shock, the cyborg rips my shirt open, revealing my locket that now gleams brightly between my breasts, and I see his red' eyes flash. A knife jets out of his hand, and tears slip down my cheeks when I realize that everything is lost. I do not feel the hot sting of his blade even though he uses the knife to snap the necklace from my body and flings it toward his woman. I faintly hear Ingwaz pleading for my life. He begs our captors to let me go and take him instead. They respond by wrapping strong hydraulic arms around his neck until he can not breathe.

The cybernetic woman kneels down and opens the locket. She brushes my husband's hair away, and as much as I am gripped by fear, I am also curious. Is it possible that they have hunted us down like dogs for a small trinket?

She sets the bundle down, and I gasp in astonishment. Beneath the blanket lays an infant. A child made more of metal than of flesh. It should be impossible! She opens a small part of the infant's chest, and inside I see a heart-shaped locket identical to mine. There is a faint flashing light that seems to be almost extinguished. She rips the old locket out in one swift move and replaces it with mine; it fits perfectly. My eyes widen as my locket begins to glow. To my horrified amazement, a blood-red light begins to pulsate like a heartbeat. The Cyber infant convulses for a moment and then starts to cry. It wraps tiny metal fingers around its mother's hand as she lifts it to her chest.

Her mate points the muzzle of his gun at me, but she stops him. Placing a hand against me, the woman motions him to do the same. I flinch at the feel of his metal fingertips probing against my belly. I picture that vicious knife gutting me open, but no pain comes. He releases his grasp on me, and I fall to the ground gasping but uninjured. Guns still pointed, the soldiers shove Ingwaz, and he staggers towards me. Confused, we hold each other tightly as the Cyborgs disappear back the way they came.

It has been a year since we made it to the grove, and in that time, we have suffered no attacks. Still, my people remain vigilant. We recite our oral history telling our children that all cyborgs are evil, but now I wonder if that is true. Cyborgs cannot show compassion, yet I have seen them do so. Cyborgs do not love but was it not a mother's love that prompted them to come for the locket. I often think of the cybernetic child, and I wonder if he lays safe in his mother's arms. I should hate my enemy, but I cannot help to wonder if they are genuinely my enemy or just a different iteration of our own evolution. It is late, and I am exhausted as I cradle my newborn son close and rest my head on my husband's chest so that his heartbeat may lull us both to sleep.