Moms sweating again. It happens everytime debt collector barges in our home.
I can feel the warm drops on my forehead as she holds me against her chest, both of us crammed behind a dumpster in the narrow space between two crumbling apartment blocks. The neon signs above cast everything in sick blue light, I can't see her face but can imagine the tense look on her face .
"Mama, why are you sweating?"
She presses her hand over my mouth, gentle but firm. Her fingers are shaking. "Shh, baby. Just the rain."
But I know it's not raining. The city's dome keeps all weather out. The only wetness in the undercity comes from broken pipes and people.
Through the gap in the debris, I watch the metal spider crawl down the wall of the building across from us. It moves as if it's floating instead of walking. Its red eye sweeps back and forth, back and forth, painting laser lines on the concrete walls. Red laser within blue light creates a beautiful green dots.
"Target confirmed," it says in a voice like grinding gears. "HID-76433. Surrender for processing."
My mother's arms tighten around me. She's wearing the black jacket she saves for special occasions, the one with silver threads . But now the threads are torn.
"I'm not give up on my boy," she whispers.
I don't understand why she's talking to the spider. Nobody talks to the city's machines. They just do what they're supposed to do, and people stay out of their way.
The spider's legs click against the brick as it repositions itself. "HID- 76433. Your emotional regulation has failed. Report for immediate correction."
"My what?" She laughs, and it sounds like glass breaking. "You mean this?" She touches her back where something metallic is shining. I've seen this in everyone's neck except mine "I'm supposed to be broken because ….? Because I love my child?"
I've never seen anyone cry before. when kids of my age get hurt, they just stand up and walk to the medical station. When adults talk about sad things on the screens, their faces stay blank and calm. But my mother's face is twisted up like she's in pain, except she's smiling too.
"Mama, your face is leaking."
"I know, baby. It's okay. It's supposed to happen."
The spider starts moving toward us. I can hear more of them now, coming from different directions. The clicking of metal feet on tungsten wall .
My mother stands up, still holding me tight. She looks around the alley as if she's seeing it for the first time like the broken windows, the graffiti that spells out words I can't read, the dim glow of the heating vents.
"I wanted to show you the world," she says quietly. "The real world not where we live. I wanted to teach you everything I know. But now… I don't…"
"We can still go, Mama. After we crush the spiders. They look nasty."
She kisses the top of my head. Her lips are warm. "No, Robin. We can't. But maybe... maybe someday you'll see it anyway. The way it used to be."
She puts me down and kneels so we're eye to eye. This close, I can see that her eyes are different colors—one brown, one green. I've never noticed before.
"Listen to me very carefully. When I count to three, you run to the red door with the painted bird. Tell them your mama sent you. Tell them you're the one who can feel things."
"Why don't you take me there yourself?!."
"I know. But I can't. Listen to your mom, everything will be fine. I'll meet you after taking care of things" She cups my face in her hands. They're warm and soft . "Can't you do this for me?"
I nod, even though I feel scared and confused .
"One."
The spiders are getting closer. I can see their red eyes reflecting off the wet concrete.
"Two."
My mother stands up. She pulls something from her jacket—a small device that hums and glows blue.
"I love you, Robin. Remember that. No matter what they try to make you forget."
"Three."
She steps out into the alley and the blue star in her hand explodes into lightning. The spiders burst with a rhythm as if they are screaming.
I run.
Behind me, I hear more spiders coming. I hear my mother's voice but am too scared l to look back
I keep running, down metal stairs that ring under my feet. The deeper I go, the darker it gets, until the only light comes from cracks in the ceiling far above.
Finally, I find it. The red door with a bird painted on it. The bird looks sad, like it's trapped and wants to fly away.
I knock.
When the door opens, an old woman with kind eyes looks down at me. Behind her, I can see a warm room with people who look... different. Their faces move. They smile and frown and look worried and happy, all mixed together.
"My mama sent me," I say. "She said to tell you I'm the one who can feel things."
The woman kneels down, and I see that she has sadness on her face too.
"Oh, child," she whispers. "GOD FORBID What did they do to her?"
I don't answer. I can't.