1 It Smells Like Rain

The air shimmered with soft waves of pink in a polite warning of the coming rain. Not everyone saw the change in the atmosphere, sparking like a gentle version of lightning. Only those like me who preferred having time to open an umbrella over the spontaneity of a sudden summer storm.

Everything in my world was so calculated. So perfect. Everything, except, me.

When the chilly drops wet my hair and face, I didn't bother with a covering. Not today. I continued to run my hand along the grass and watch how every blade, perfectly trim and lustrous green, bowed and rose up slowly again. As soft as fur, it tickled the palm of my hand.

"You'll get soaking wet." Bell approached and offered a knowing smile. "The forecast says it'll be a heavy one."

"And the forecast is never wrong." My tone fell flat. The good felt like acid in my cold heart ever since my life fell apart.

Bell wrinkled her nose and sat beside me. "No. It's not." Her tender teal eyes met mine. "We have few truly unknowns in this world, but we still have some. I'm sorry, Jazz."

"Few imperfections as well." I let my tone sharpen even though I felt the tightness in my gut. Not real intuition, but a simulation of such. My skin felt fleshy and soft. But not even a blade would be able to pierce it. Our ancestors were born into a world of pain and imperfection with bodies as vulnerable as the world they lived in. Machine and mind had come together so long ago, I could hardly imagine living in those ancient times, when living also meant dying.

"Where's the baby now?" The instant calculation of the pain tightening Bell's smile so her lips pressed tighter together.

The question forced my head down against my arms. The weight of it more than a woman could bare. "In surgery."

"Jazz." Bell jolted to her knees and clutched my arms. "Why did you tell anyone?"

"Because no one can understand. No one."

"There's been other cases. Though not so extreme. Why don't I go with you to talk to those families?"

"It didn't even hurt when I had her." Tears dampened my cheeks. "Not the slightest bit of discomfort. I didn't expect to ever feel the pain of motherhood. Not the true pain. It's so bizarre."

The rain picked up and the wind whipped my gauzy sleeves. Storms were so rare. People actually didn't like sunny days every day. We needed variation. But such uncomfortable weather only came a few times a season. I looked up at the sky. I was causing this, wasn't I? The environment was reacting to my needs, because mine were the greatest right now. And I couldn't stand being in such a calm world when mine was falling apart.

"Come on." Bell stood and tugged me up. "We'll check on her."

"They said I'd know as soon as there's an update. It's been twenty minutes. Just silence." I lifted my face to the dark gray clouds that wept with me. "I never realized how fast everything is until having to wait."

Bell froze. "Have you been in the archives again?"

I clenched my teeth and started back for the clinic ahead of my sister.

"I told you to stay out of those files, Jazz."

Whipping around, I allowed my voice to raise, and it sparked like lightning within me. Real lightning. Not the shimmering pink of a coming storm. "It's the only place that feels like home right now."

"It's too much, sis. Please. It'll throw your empathy into overdrive. Tell me you've taken precautions."

I snorted and continued on my way. The best weakness for a human to have is too much empathy. It's the safest for our society. It's the only ailment we haven't tried to cure. The sting of another's pain. I never resented it before now. I wouldn't mind a selfish sister at the moment. One who would leave me alone in my misery.

Pain wrapped around my insides, tightening my stomach, piercing my heart with pain. Never had I experienced anything like. I rushed to the hospital and paced until the doctors took me to my daughter.

She lay wrapped in a soft yellow blanket beneath dim overhead lights. The fear and sadness melted from me as I reached out to touch her tiny, balled hand. "She's perfect."

"Our exploratory surgery confirmed what we feared. This body she has is beyond repair. It's time to transfer her consciousness."

My baby cooed and worked her light lips. I smiled, an entirely new feeling bursting within me. "I love you," I whispered.

"Ma'am, time is of the essence. We like to do these transfers immediately."

"Why?" I glanced at the doctor for only a moment before focusing back on the baby.

"The more time we wait, the greater risk of degradation. Transfers like hers involve structural changes. She'll be a little different, only in the ways that cure her condition."

"How different?"

"She won't suffer."

I straightened and glared into the doctor's eyes. "Which parts of my baby do you plan to strip away? Transferring to make her neurotypical will result in changes to her personality. I've read the research."

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile. "No one will ever know the difference."

I snorted. Covered my mouth with my hands as I burst out laughing. "Okay." Whipping around, I lifted my daughter into my arms, kissing the soft fresh skin on her head. "Time to go, baby."

"Wait."

"We're done here. It's safe to go. This isn't dangerous. Call me when you figure out a way to help her that doesn't change her."

A team of nurses and doctors rushed behind me as I abandoned the hospital, pleading with me. But I couldn't hear them. Only my heart thumping in my ears. Only the little noises my baby made as she rested in my embrace. The fuzzy black hair atop her head smelling like a spring day. Peace softened my heart.

"I love you just the way you are."

Times like these made me happy I'd chosen to be on my own. It's not that I didn't care about relationships. More that I fell in love with her before a man. Of course, I didn't know her before she was born, but I wanted her. I have all the time in the world. Why settle for anything less than perfect?

Eventually the medical team stopped following me, watching with concern furrowing their brows as I glided down the stairs with my perfectly imperfect baby.

These same people would push me to marry. I wanted it. I really did. And everyone should do what makes them happy. Except it'd always bothered me that I'd immediately know if someone would be a good match for me. I never even had to wonder who I was attracted to. What my gender was. The intuition always made sure I knew. Diligently protecting me from even an ounce of pain.

Despite free will it all felt so pre-determined. I preferred to refrain, at least for now.

Call me a romantic, but I'd always loved sinking into a bubble bath and reading stories of old. When lovers fought for each other and against each other. When pain could bond as much as joy.

No. I didn't want to be in pain. I just wanted to know what it felt like to want something so badly that you'd go through hell to get it.

I always had whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, at the difficulty I wanted. Sure I could adjust my world to challenge me more, but I always had the option to take the easy way out.

I'd lived a thousand of the lives the lovers of old did and yet it felt as if I hadn't yet woken up. Hadn't yet been born to the world. Like I slept within my mother in an eternal dream.

A damn good dream at that.

Everyone else could be happy, deep within their soul, without forcing it. Maybe I'd always been broken where no one else could see. Maybe I passed it on to my daughter and that's why she was different.

I burst out the hospital doors to lightning brightening my world, momentarily set ablaze. This place couldn't accept her. It would always try to change her. And I'd never accept that. My rage would burn it down. It only took a little hell to ruin heaven.

"Let's go on a trip," I whispered.

Tomorrow, we would set out. We would find a world where it was okay to be a little different before I managed to ruin this one.