3 Predestination

Bo

The first thing that Bo noticed upon waking up was how cold he was. It felt like there were needles endlessly puncturing his skin all over his body. He was pretty sure that all his extremities had gone numb, and as far as he could tell, he couldn't feel his legs. Cold licked at his face and crept under his clothes, spreading across his skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. With purple lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth, the Bionic tried to wrap his arms around him tighter, only to find that he had lost all of the feeling from both of his upper limbs.

The second thing he noticed, was how dark it was. Bo wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or not, but all he could see was just a void of black. The biting cold chilled his fingers into clumsy numbness, cold seeped into his toes and spread painfully throughout his legs, as if it were his bare feet that was submerged in this pristine, icy whiteness rather than his brogues, and his teeth only continued to chatter like a pneumatic drill.

He began to lose his sense of time, after the seconds turned into minutes, and so forth and so forth. Had he been out there for hours? Days, even?

Bo breathed in, inhaling the fierce, raw winter air, and tried to focus his attention on rewinding the current past events which had led him to...well, where he was currently. Was he sitting down? Standing? Was he laying on the ground? Was he even sitting upright? Bo couldn't even begin to tell, because the longer he debated mentally the faster his entire body from the neck down become leeched of feeling, and the fact that the Bionic couldn't feel any pain gave out clear warning signs that something was not right.

Had he been drugged? The heaviness of his chest as he tried to steady his breathing, and the drowsiness which was clouding his trail of thought suggested that that was very probable. It also could have contributed to the numbness he was feeling, the weighted numbness residing throughout his blood which contrasted with the frosted unfeeling from the cold. Then again, it could be that he was simply hypothermic.

He couldn't remember anything at all. He needed to get out of this blizzard.

Even though he couldn't see anything, Bo could hear how the wind bawled and wailed above him like the stiff, frigid breeze that it was, and even though he couldn't feel anything except the cold, he was pretty sure he was covered in snow.

How was he supposed to move?

***

Larifa

As she walked down the now icy street, Larifa grabbed both ends of her coat and overlapped the sides, in an attempt to shield her body from the cold wind. She couldn't believe how bad the weather had gotten; it had only been raining this morning, and now the whole city had more or less shut down due to the thick snowstorm which enveloped it.

Micah had insisted that Larifa borrow his car to drive to the supermarket, but she had insisted back that the 10 minute walk down the road wasn't worth the potential damage to Micah's new car. Not that she didn't trust her wayward driving skills, but more so that she wasn't the type of person to chance things. So she had borrowed Micah's beige, fur coat since they were both near to the same height, and left him to clean up a bit while she was out.

The street was empty, and the only source of light that Larifa had was the occasional still-functioning lamp post which she passed at the end of each block. Most of the electricity had been cut off, and she could see that after walking past a few blocks of apartments, some still had access to power. So Larifa turned to simply walking slowly with one foot out in front of the other. It was a pretty awkward manoeuvre, but it prevented her from accidentally slipping on areas of ice beneath the snow which she couldn't see.

Being so engulfed in her own footsteps, she had completely missed the strange dark shape that that was leant up against the supermarket wall.

***

Bo

Was there someone there? Bo had heard the slow steps of a person gradually walking past him, and he had desperately tried to open his mouth and yell out for help, but whatever he had been drugged with had almost completely blocked off his sense of movement. He hadn't been called out to by that person, or anyone else for that matter, so Bo assumed that it was probably night time considering the lack of people. It would suggest why he hadn't been seen. He had heard a faint tune and the sound of sliding doors. Was he outside a convenience store? Deserted? So in other words, he had no hope?

If he could have, Bo would have sunk even deeper into the snow. Instead, he opted for simply listening to his surroundings.

It wasn't like he felt particularly bad or anything. To be fair, about a month ago, if he had been placed in this same position he would have been more accepting of this cold fate. As a Bionic, his main goal in life was to help humans, and since he felt that he hadn't lived up to that as much as he could have, he relished the thought of fading away.

But, miraculously, Bo wasn't sure if he felt that way anymore. Could it have something to do with that fact that he could be dying? Perhaps, the situation called for feelings of reminiscence and nostalgia, and maybe this was why Bo felt this way. He didn't have anything to reminisce about, therefore, he had turned to anything else? Did he feel anything at all, or was that the cold speaking for him? Was he still simply 'content' with his ending?

Did he perhaps, want to feel...more?

The closest thing that Bo had ever felt to such feeling, had been in that office with Omar. Just the sight of the first inklings of snow had brought out something in himself, and he couldn't call it anything that was close to an emotion, but maybe...a want. A desire to feel. Did that count as a feeling in itself?

At the time, it had been...nice. What had that meant for him though? Had it really meant anything at all? Could Bionics even admire beauty? Bo heaved out a long sigh. He didn't want to come to the probable outcome of death, because he still wanted to live a bit longer, and as a Bionic, he had only existed for a couple of months. But unless he was found and aided by someone, Bo came to the conclusion that outside somewhere in the snow, next to a convenience store, away from the factory, that that would be his deathbed.

As his mind started to dissipate, the sound of the sliding doors brought him back to life, and half in anguish, he tried for the last time to call out for help.

***

Larifa

When she entered the supermarket, Larifa was greeted by a cashier who smiled upon her entrance.

"Evening! I'm surprised to see anyone out here, considering how bad this storm is getting!"

Larifa reciprocated their smile, flapping the fronts of her coat to rid of the snow that had latched onto her. "I'm surprised there's still someplace that's open! Besides, my friend and I got hungry. We appreciate you not closing up shop for the night!"

She struck up a conversation with the cashier, who informed her to be careful when walking back. Apparently, earlier on that day, a group of suspicious looking men had come in after loitering outside for a while, and left after spending a fair good thirty minutes without buying anything. Larifa thanked them, before grabbing a basket and browsing the isles for food.

She could make some sort of pasta? It wasn't too hard to make, and she had enough practice throughout her three years of Uni. Her mind brushed over the idea of soup, something that matched the cold outside, and she smiled to herself. Herself, Ansel and June used to have so much soup in the winter that her brother came to the conclusion that he hated soup. To meet him halfway, and to not cook up an argument with a hormonal fourteen-year old, they had collectively decided to reduce the amount of soup in the winter. One pot of soup to welcome the cold season, and one to end it.

A wave of nostalgia and sadness swept over her. The last time Larifa's family had all been together had been maybe two years ago. Larifa had never known June's husband. He would have been her dad most likely, if it hadn't been for the unexpected raid amongst his camp, as well as a grenade and a shot to his stomach. Perhaps because of this, June had sought out Larifa, and to this day Larifa wasn't sure if she could ever truly be grateful for what happened.

Of course, she had to be. She had grown up in a home with two people who loved her dearly. If June hadn't contracted a case of Leukaemia, then maybe they would have had the happy ending that's shown in movies.

After moving out and attending University, Larifa knew that a lot of the workload at home had piled onto Ansel's lap. June seemed to have been getting better lately, and because of that, Ansel could finally take it easier, allowing him to concentrate on his finals.

But, Larifa knew that if anything, life was extremely unpredictable. Any day now, she could win the lottery, decide to invest in tacos, her mom could die of a stroke instead of the cancer, or maybe meet someone who would change her life drastically.

She just hadn't known at the time, that that person was slumped outside of that very store.

Larifa finally decided to go with the first option of pasta, since she betted that Micah didn't even own a big enough pot to make some soup to begin with. She hurriedly paid the cashier and wished them well, before stepping out again into the freezing cold. She walked a few paces into the snow until she stood beneath a lamp post, and watched as the snowfall began to ease. When she breathed out, the moisture from her mouth turned to vapor, and for a few minutes she simply stood there puffing out hot air and watching it disappear into the night, the only sounds reaching her ears being her own breathing.

But before she could walk away, Larifa had heard a faint voice behind her, seeking out a hand of succour. A voice so weak, that she almost didn't hear it.

"...help..."