Orange

As Rina slipped into the bath, she remembered instantly why she always hated them. She could only recall a handful of baths in her lifetime; all in her childhood, never voluntary. Her Papa would tug at her hair like it was a wild animal, brushing out the tangles in her fine curls like it was his mission to make her cry. The water would grow tepid and opaque with her filth, her skin cells floating in the water and the grime only seeming to burrow deeper into her little bones. And worst of all, she hated the quiet when her father would step outside the bathroom door, leaving it cracked just enough so he could hear her if she drowned, so Rina could hear him argue with any number of people on the phone—mostly her Mama.

She held these memories at arm’s length as she stood above the bath now, adult and alone in her penthouse apartment. Rina felt the scalding water skim up her calves, prickling her fine hair with a shock as she sunk in. Dr. Eureka had told her the baths would help when the tremors flared up.

The pungent scent of tangerine from the liquid bubble bath tickled her nose as she tossed it in. The bubbles cheered her slightly with their innocent accumulation at her arms, chest, and thighs. She gathered them up and pushed her face into them, lifting her head, feeling them drip off her chin, her cheeks, her eyebrows. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend they were soft kisses. It was more wish than it was memory.

When she finished the bath and toweled herself off, she could already feel the tremors starting up again in full force. They began at her left fingertips, slowly inching up both hands, her biceps—a shivering cold only her limbs could feel.

Her right arm beeped three times. Carefully drying the last few droplets on her forearm, Rina examined the implant inside it. With great effort from her trembling fingers, she pressed on it, and a holographic screen appeared, tracking her vitals. She tapped a button and a soothing cold shot directly into her veins, banishing the tremors back into the dark place they came from.

Her phone buzzed on the bathroom counter, making her jump. She grabbed it, answering after the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Ri!” The musical voice of her best friend Janine sent a wave of calm through Rina. She put the phone on speaker as she shrugged on her robe, and Janine’s voice echoed off the tile. “What’re you up to tonight, babe?”

“Staying in,” Rina said. “I’ve got a session tomorrow morning, so…”

“With that hot psychiatrist?” Janine’s voice was playful. “When are you gonna tap that?”

“Stop,” Rina laughed as she took her phone out into the living room. She turned her fireplace on, and the chic, stiff decor was thrown into orange light and shadow.

“I heard there was an event going on at Bar Lubitsch,” Janine said. She lingered in the pause that followed.

“I’d love to, but I can’t.” Rina chuckled. “Also, why are you keeping up on LA bars? You’re not even in the country right now.”

Janine tutted. “You never go out anymore. It may help.”

Rina examined her hands—still, for the moment. “I need my prescription renewed tomorrow. I’d prefer not to be hungover when I ask my psychiatrist for more medication.”

“Fair enough.” Though Janine tried to hide her disappointment, Rina could still hear its twinge in the lower tilt of her voice. That’s what happens when you know someone their entire life; you memorize everything about them without even realizing it.

A pause. “I miss you.” said Janine.

“I know.” Rina sighed, feeling a weight settle deep between her shoulder blades.

“Oh. I almost forgot. I thought of you today when I saw this.” Rina’s phone buzzed, and she squinted at the web link in Janine’s messages. “Talk about it with your psychiatrist. It could help! It’s got great reviews.”

“Evo Link?” Rina read the words on the website. “Jay, this isn’t one of those pyramid schemes, is it?”

“That was one time, Ri. Let it go!”

“Never.” Rina smiled.

Rina heard laughter on the other line. “All right, I gotta go. But seriously, you should look into it! Okay, mwah, bye!” Janine hung up.

Rina slumped onto her leather couch, pulling a blanket over her bare legs. She opened the website on her phone and was greeted with a pure white web page. Evo Link floated in orange letters across it. Rina clicked on the words, and they took her to a page about technology and machine learning and…

Rina blinked. She reread the first sentence over and over. “AI for progressive nerve therapy.” The words tasted sweet on her tongue. Maybe Janine was onto something.

She shook her head. No, it had to be a scam. Some well-packaged, “peer reviewed” scam. Her doctors had all told her that the only way to treat the tremors were her meds and lifestyle, including her therapy sessions to monitor her mental health. Still, hope fluttered in her chest. So far, the shots had only gotten her back working part-time from home, considering they wore off every six hours. Evo could help her go back to full-time.

Rina headed to the kitchen. It had begun to rain, and the floor-to-ceiling windows rattled with the wind, threatening the peace of her airtight apartment. Her mom had chosen this high-end complex for her, citing its contemporary design and multiple safety features as just the thing for her little girl. “Safer than the ground floor,” her mother had said, peering down at the riffraff on Sunset Boulevard from the window. Rina supposed she belonged here with her fancy salary, but she felt more like Rapunzel than the high rolling executive she appeared to be.

She filled the tea kettle and set an empty mug on the sink, throwing a tea bag into it. As she set the pot to boil, she stared out the kitchen window at the Hollywood Hills, watching the streetlights flicker up the block.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a shadow in the window’s reflection. In a flash of lightning, Rina saw its black eyes and heart-shaped face in sharp relief.

Rina stumbled backward, clutching the countertop. She blinked, and just as quickly as it appeared, the barn owl vanished.

Her fingers twitched of their own volition. Heart pounding against her rib cage, Rina took slow, shivering breaths, trying to stop the world from spinning. After a few moments, the twitching subsided.

Rina ran to the living room and pulled the curtains over the massive windows. She took careful sips of her tea, letting the fragrant water seep down her throat. “Evo Link,” she murmured. Maybe she’d show it to her psychiatrist, after all.

#

Two days later, morning light bathed Rina’s apartment in multi-color as it hit the faceted crystals hanging from her ceiling at the doorways of her living room. Rina sat cross-legged on her couch, staring at the small, white, rectangular box sitting innocently on the coffee table in front of her.

Opening the box revealed a white microchip with an orange emblem on it—innocuous, yet still daunting enough to send a tingle of excitement down Rina’s spine. After deciphering the ant-print instructions, Rina held out her forearm and tapped on the implant, and a small sheath opened. She carefully picked up the microchip—it was no bigger than a breath mint—and dropped it inside the sheath.

And she waited. And waited.

Finally, a small whirring sound murmured from her forearm, and the indicator light blinked blue and orange. A moment of panic overwhelmed her. She’d done something wrong. She was going to have to get surgery to remove this thing. Why was she alone? Why—

The blinking stopped. Rina stared at her forearm, holding her breath.

“Hello. I’m Evo.”

The voice, disembodied, came from inside her head. Its presence felt more like a thought than an actual auditory experience.

“Hello.” Rina said aloud, sensing the bot was waiting for her reply. “I’m Rina.”

“Rina Nassiri.” Evo said. “Age twenty-five. Height five feet-six inches. Weight one hundred and—”

“Okay.” Rina interrupted, pulling her cardigan closer around her. “That’s enough.”

“Nervous system calibration complete.” Evo said. “It’s nice to meet you, Rina.” The voice sounded natural, conversational. “How’s your day going so far?”

Rina stood and peeked behind her living room curtains. The sun had risen above the hills, perched brightly in a deep blue sky. The clouds of the previous night had disappeared. “Fine.”

“That’s good to hear,” Evo said brightly. “I’m looking forward to assisting you.”

A pause. Rina bit her lip. “So… Is that it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“Not a thing. I’m already connected to your central nervous system, so we’re ready to go. If I sense any abnormalities, you’ll see a flashing light, like this.” The indicator light on Rina’s forearm blinked orange three times before returning to its solid state. “That shows I’ve stopped the abnormality from occurring. In your case, your essential tremors.”

Rina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She felt the simultaneous urge to run laps around her apartment and sleep for three hundred years. “Wow. Thank you, Evo.”

“I’m happy to help, Rina.”

Evo went quiet.

Rina shook out her arms. She didn’t feel any different, but perhaps that was the point. At least now she wouldn’t have to take any more baths. She laughed aloud at the thought, a laugh that shook her entire body, bringing tears to her eyes. She felt a weight had been lifted off her chest, and she could finally breathe.

She headed to the bathroom for her first shower in weeks.

#

The day flew by like a warm summer breeze. Though it was early February, the Los Angeles sun shone bright outside the windows of Rina’s office downtown. She marveled at how she drove herself to work without so much as a twitch, how she could pour her own coffee in the break room without spilling it all over the countertops.

She greeted her colleagues with a genuine warmth she hadn’t felt in weeks. Yes, she was feeling better, she said. Yes, she was on a new treatment, working wonders already. It was as if she had never left.

It wasn’t until Rina stepped into the conference room for their daily meeting that she felt her heart plummet back into her stomach. At the head of the table stood the CEO chatting amiably with someone. He flashed a wolf’s grin, and Rina felt her blood run cold.

As she took her seat, she murmured to herself more than anyone, “He’s not supposed to be here.”

To Rina’s right, a coworker gave her the side eye. “Corporate brought him back. Said they needed an extra hand while you were out.”

Rina sucked in a breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her implant blink. She covered her forearm with her sleeve. Her coworker gave her a sympathetic glance.

The conference room quieted as the CEO, Todd, cleared his throat. “Good morning, everyone. As you can see, we’re welcoming back our dear Rina to the office today.” His chalk-white smile didn’t reach his eyes. He gave Rina a once over as he swiped his tongue over his lips. “We’re so pleased to have our young star back at the office full time, looking healthy as ever.”

The room released a smattering of applause. Rina stared at the table, fiddling with a plastic pen in her right hand, trying to remember how to breathe.

As Todd continued the meeting, Rina’s ears began to ring. What started as a small, tinny sound soon enveloped her senses, washing out the words he was saying with white noise. Her hands lay still, although her arm had been flashing like crazy since the start of the presentation. She tugged at her sleeve and kept bouncing the pen between her fingers, her glassy eyes on Todd, his oil slick hair, his broad shoulders, his square hands gesticulating his words, the memory of those hands pushing her down, until—

The pen snapped in half. Todd quieted, and all eyes turned back to her. Rina stared at her hand, where blue ink spilled over her fingers and pooled on the desk.

“I—” Rina stuttered. “Excuse me.” She scurried out of the conference room.

In the bathroom, Rina washed the ink off her hands, watching the blue circle down the drain. Splashing water on her face, she tried to comprehend how she could have the strength to break a plastic pen in half with just one hand.

“You didn’t break it.” Evo’s voice said abruptly in her head. “I did.”

Rina stared at herself in the mirror. “Why?”

“The tension needed to go somewhere.” Evo replied, matter of fact.

“I thought you were supposed to prevent shit like that from happening. Abnormalities or whatever?” Rina felt a surge of anger. “Now you made it look like I’m still unstable.”

“Aren’t you?” Evo said placidly. “Looking at that man, it took all of me to keep you from shaking. See? Your heart’s racing right now, and he’s not even here.”

Rina sucked in a breath. “You don’t know anything.” She glanced at herself in the mirror, at the mascara smeared under her eyes. Shit, she forgot she was wearing makeup. It’d been a while since she’d worn any. She rubbed the spots out with a paper towel, feeling her skin tingle raw.

When she stepped back from the mirror, she jumped. Behind her in the reflection, sitting atop one of the bathroom stalls, was the barn owl. Its massive wings tucked at its sides, it clattered its beak, a rapid clicking sound that made Rina’s skin crawl. It stared at her, kept her frozen in place.

She shut her eyes tight, doing her breathing exercises. But all she could see behind her eyelids was the owl’s dark, glittering gaze.

When she opened her eyes again, her breathing even, it was gone.

“I need to go home.” Rina said aloud.

Evo remained quiet.

#

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.” Rina paced the length of her kitchen, watching Janine sigh irritably over their video chat.

“Look at you. I bet you looked so good today.” Janine’s voice broke. “I thought HR put him on leave.”

“They were going to, but apparently they needed him when I was out.” Rina said bitterly.

“Bullshit. They could have hired a temp. I swear, corporate must be in on it. How’re you feeling? How’s Evo?”

“Evo’s been great. And I’m fine, really. Just let it go, Jay.”

“Never,” Janine pressed. “I’m not gonna let it go, Rina. And neither should you.”

Rina chewed her lip. The thought of bringing Todd to his knees in trial thrilled her. But the pain of reliving that night repeatedly, and in front of a courtroom no less, was enough to stop her breathing. “I’ll talk to HR again in the morning. Okay?”

Janine stared at Rina for a long moment. It was a look Rina knew well, a look she had seen in her parents’ eyes too many times, the look her psychiatrist gave her when she told her about how the tremors started. “I wish I could be there,” Janine finally murmured.

“Me too.” Rina smiled gently. “You should get going. You’ve got a full day ahead.”

“You sure? I don’t mind staying on. These Spaniards don’t give a shit about being on time.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” Rina tried to sound convincing, her voice filled with more courage than she felt.

“Okay. I love you,” Janine said.

“Love you, too.”

The line went dead.

Rina pocketed her phone, letting out another shaky breath, trying not to cry. Her apartment suddenly felt too big, her body too small wandering through it. She sucked in her tears, clearing her throat. First days back were always hard, but she could handle it. She could be strong. She had to be.

The evening wore on quietly. The light of the sunset peeked through the gaps in the curtains drawn over Rina’s windows, staining the carpet dappled red.

As she settled into her couch, attempting to read, Evo piped up. “Who is the owl?”

Rina’s blood turned to ice. “I don’t know,” she mustered after a pause.

Silence. Then—

“Who is it?” Evo’s voice was sympathetic.

“It’s…” Rina sighed. “I just see it sometimes. I know it’s not real.” Her arm blinked.

Evo’s voice was earnest. “You can tell me. Talking about it will help.”

Rina snapped her book closed. “Look, you’re not my psychiatrist. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

In the silence that followed, Rina thought she had won the argument. Then, Evo’s voice returned, gentler. “Who is the owl, Rina?”

Now it was Rina’s turn for the silent treatment. “Rina, I can help.” Evo pressed, sounding like a stern parent. “Rina.”

“Fine!” Rina stood, pacing the living room. “If I tell you, will you shut up about it?”

Silence.

Rina sighed, clutching her temples. She was grateful no one could see her through her windows, talking to herself like a crazy person. They wouldn’t be wrong.

Her heart began to pound. “For the Christmas party last year, Todd took us all to his cabin in Idyllwild. Everyone got super drunk. But I don’t drink, so I was hanging out at the edges, just watching and playing games.” The party surfaced in her mind’s eye—the blurry decorations lining the cabin walls, Frank Sinatra blaring from the speakers, people wearing silly hats and singing off-key. “I don’t really know when, but I started feeling dizzy, so I decided to go lie down.”

She licked her lips, her mouth dry. “And I woke up and…” She shut her eyes. “Todd was on top of me. He pinned me to the bed, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think, my thoughts were so sluggish.” Rina felt sick to her stomach. “The owl was there, outside the window. Watching.” In her memory, the owl’s eyes glistened in the reflection of the window outside. Its gaze was hollow, melancholy, as it observed the horror unfolding within.

Rina tucked her cardigan around herself. “Luckily, I managed to push him off and get away before he got too far. I left the party immediately; I didn’t even tell anyone I was going. Drove home in a snowstorm.” Her arm blinked. “I reported what happened to HR, and they said I should consider mediation before writing an official complaint since nobody saw it happen. ‘It’s the CEO, so my case better be good,’ he said. A little after that, the tremors started, and they sent me home on medical leave. I never got the chance to file.”

Rina waited for Evo’s response. When the AI remained quiet, she sighed irritably. “That’s it.”

Rina felt a hum vibrate through her body. “You shouldn’t have to suffer,” Evo said. Rina’s limbs grew warm, and she felt a new strength seep into her muscles. “We’ll never be helpless like that again.”

Rina clenched her teeth. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I want him to suffer,” She whispered. “Like I have.”

The humming started up again, spreading warmth across her body. “I can make that happen. Snapping the pen was easy,” Evo purred.

“Wait…” Rina sighed. Her fingers twitched. “I… I can’t.”

“He won’t stop. Unless you stop him yourself.” Evo said. Placid.

Rina shook her head. “I have to do this right, or else it’ll only look worse on me. I have to do this my way, okay?” She felt a bubble of panic in the pit of her stomach as her body kept humming. “Enough.”

“Snapping the pen was easy.” Evo repeated.

Rina opened her mouth to reply, but her words were missing. Her vocal cords simply wouldn’t move. Startled, she tried a few sounds, but managed only a strangled moan as her esophagus tightened. She stopped pacing, clutching her chest and neck, her breath caught in her windpipe. She stumbled onto her hands and knees, wheezing, her body disobedient.

“Snapping him will be even easier,” Evo continued, “if you just let me help you.”

Rina’s mind raced, trying to think with what little oxygen she had left. She crawled toward the coffee table, attempted to grab her phone, failed. Her vision blurred.

Suddenly, her windpipe whooshed open, and she gasped gratefully. She coughed and spluttered, curling in on herself on the living room floor. She glared at her forearm, at the solid orange light from the implant staring back at her.

“You’d never have to be afraid again.” Evo’s tone was even, certain.

“No…” Rina groaned. She staggered to her feet, limped toward the bathroom.

Evo’s voice took on a dark tint. “Your father would be disappointed if his daughter didn’t speak up for herself. Isn’t that why he left you and your mother? Because you’d rather lie down?” Rina felt her legs stiffen as her knees locked of their own accord, and she collapsed onto the floor. “You need me.”

Drool trickled down Rina’s chin. She crawled forward through the bathroom doorway inch by inch and collapsed on the tile, gulping for air. “Okay. Help me,” she croaked.

Evo was silent, but Rina felt her joints soften. Painfully, Rina grasped the countertop and hoisted herself back to her feet.

Clumsily, Rina opened the top drawer beneath the sink. She pulled out a small pair of scissors—a gift from her mother, to help “tame those wild eyebrows of yours” as she put it. Her hands were steady. She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes moist with tears, hardened with resolve.

Rina spit into the sink. “Fuck off.”

Before Evo could respond, Rina stabbed herself.

Blood blossomed dark over her forearm, and she grunted in pain as she rooted in her warm flesh, prying the implant loose. She could hear Evo shouting at her, hot flames in her mind, as if her muscles were tearing themselves apart from the inside out. Finally, Rina shrieked with victory as she pulled the implant out and flung it on the countertop, spraying blood across the mirror.

Her hands shook, her breath coming in labored gasps. Blood spilled from her arm and pooled onto the countertop. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought she recognized the black wildness in her eyes.

It was quiet, save the sound of blood dripping onto the floor. Rina felt a laugh choke her throat. Until…

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Evo’s voice rang in her head. Rina froze.

“No.” Rina whispered. She stared at the implant, dead on the countertop. “How?”

“You forget yourself.” Evo said pleasantly. Only, it was with Rina’s voice that it spoke.

Rina stared at herself in the mirror. “What?” She murmured. But her mouth stayed shut. She tried blinking, moving her arms. Her reflection was motionless.

“Don’t you see?” Her reflection said. Her eyes were inky black, unblinking. “I’m part of you now.”

“Stop it.” Rina whimpered. But her mouth didn’t move. “Stop it!” She shrieked. She sobbed, wildly pounding her fists against the mirror, smearing blood. “Stop!”

Her reflection stayed perfectly still, until Evo wiped away the single tear that fell from Rina’s eye. “I’ll keep us safe, Rina. It’s better this way.”

Evo twisted her lips up into a smile as Rina screamed.