Prologue - New Eyes

Bixenta was six when they moved to Kansas and she got the implants.

It was neither the first nor the last change that Bixenta would experience in that frightening transitional period, the move from the Old Country to the States, with all that entailed. But in the years to come, it was certainly the change that she remembered most clearly.

Mother had fussed over her long dress that morning as they waited on the curb for the auto to come. Bixenta could see the sign welcoming people to the small complex of buildings that she explored in her waking hours: tall, narrow houses surrounding a shared green space of grass and trees, interspersed with low-slung structures that invited climbing and other child activity. The sign itself advertised the units with a colorful display of numbers, showing the positive net energy production and negative net carbon footprint of the efficient buildings. Bixenta had seen these numbers when they first moved into their home two months previously, and had asked Teacher about them. All she had retained from Teacher's answer was that they were good numbers that buildings needed to have so that people would be happy living in them.

The auto pulled up - a small six-seat passenger vehicle without a cargo compartment - and a man and woman got out. Mother placed a hand on Bixenta's shoulder to keep her in place, and made a tap on her wrist to hold the auto as she loudly greeted the two. Bixenta cringed as she heard Mother stumble over a phrase in English; the girl was already more fluent than either of her parents. But the couple, back from an early morning shopping trip based on the bags they carried, were nothing but friendliness and smiles as they easily returned Mother's greetings.

"Heading to the Eye, did you say?" the woman bent her knees in front of Bixenta to meet her eyes, offering her a gentle smile. She was pale, the makeup accentuating her narrow face framed by brown hair with lighter stripes, something Bixenta had seen on many American moms. "Time to get yourself plugged in, huh? You excited?"

The girl nodded, wanting to agree with this pretty woman. In truth, it just seemed like something that needed to be done, like going to the dentist; she hadn't known she should be excited for it.

"Having your implants is going to be so much fun!" The woman smiled. "Wanna see a trick?" Her grin was broad, almost mischievous, contagious.

At Bixenta's nod, the blonde stranger tapped on her forearm and stared, waiting, at the girl. It was a moment before she saw it, and she gave a little gasps of surprise that pleased the performer. Small dots of brown had appeared in each iris of what had previously been a pair of clear blue eyes, rapidly spreading out until the eyes were fully brown. She turned her head so Mother could see as well. "Useful for matching formal dresses," she explained, "although I had a problem with a payment scan once when I forgot I'd set it to something unusual. Cat eyes for Halloween, I think it was."

The auto gave a complaining sound, and Mother quickly exclaimed their goodbyes before ushering her daughter into the adjustable seats. They sat across from each other, Mother with a cheerful expression on her face, hiding the worry in her eyes. They each rummaged through their packs as they settled in for the long ride.

"Will I be able to do that? With the colors?" Bixenta asked, easily slipping back into the language she had learned from birth. She wanted a full answer from Mother, not one confined to her command of English.

"I don't know, my heart. We can ask the doctor." Mother reached out to smooth back her long dark hair, always the source of so much praise from adults.

"Is it… going to hurt?" She glanced to Mother's wrist, where the buttons were no longer visible under the surface; the skin was unbroken and unblemished. "Did yours hurt?"

Mother followed the girl's gaze, turning her wrist so the back of her arm faced them; a colorful interface glowed to life. "Not when they put it in. There was some soreness later, a lot of itching. Some of that may have been in my mind."

"Will my eyes be itchy?" she rubbed her hands across her face, imagining it.

Shaking her head, Mother snaked a long arm around the young girl, pulling her close. Bixenta felt her deep intake of breath. "Everything will be fine." And then, in English, "You are okay, my daughter. I am here."

*****

"Destination approaching," the automobile chimed. "Please gather your belongings."

Bixenta opened her eyes to find her mother slowly running one hand down her hair, which had spread out behind her as she dozed. "Time to wake up. We're nearly there; look!"

Miles of flat land had been replaced with the tall buildings of Omaha. Bixenta pressed her face against the window to look as high as she could up the side of one structure as the auto rolled smoothly. Bustling adults made their way quickly along the walkways, tugging jackets closed against the wind.

They exited in front of a tall building no different than the others; Bixenta read the large decal printed along the glass and steel. "United States Office of Citizen Protection and Management." The words were around a seal that showed a fierce bird with alert, piercing eyes looking down on a city.

She held Mother's hand as they waited their turn to take a revolving door into the building. Inside, a glass gate the same height as Bixenta turned green and opened as the man in front of them stepped past, but it turned red when she and her mother did the same.

"Ma'am, look this way please?" A man wearing dark clothes with a tie stepped forward and pointed something at Mother's eyes. "Alazne Ibarra?" Without waiting for Mother's response, he looked toward the gate, which turned green. "This way, please."

Mother didn't have implants, Bixenta had already known, but it was the first time that the girl saw how that made a difference. The mass of humanity continued orderly through the gate, served by the automation of the building; only the girl and her mother were treated differently, requiring a human escort. She kept a tight grip on her mother's hand as they followed behind him.

*****

Bixenta awoke again to the background hum and intermittent shudder of riding in an auto. Her hand went to her face even as she failed to open her eyes, feeling the edge of the slick tape that held them closed. "Mother?" She cried out in the old tongue.

"Shhhh," a comforting hand covered hers, steering Bixenta away from touching her face. "You're safe, my heart. We're still an hour from home. You can sleep some more if you like."

"Am I…" she swallowed, "...'plugged in'?" If there were Basque words for this, Bixenta didn't know them, so English would have to do.

Her mother sighed. "Tonight, the doctor said. When you awake in the morning, you will be connected to everything."

"Okay," the six-year-old replied, allowing herself to drift back to sleep.

*****

"Good morning. Are you awake?" The voice was pleasant, melodic, unassuming. Bixenta had never heard it before.

She sat up in bed, noting the familiar sounds and smells of her own room. The unnatural darkness of her closed eyes was broken by a small window that appeared in her vision:

GOOD MORNING. ARE YOU AWAKE?

"Yes," she said.

"Hello," the voice greeted her a second later. "I'm your virtual assistant. You can respond to me verbally, or by focusing on options provided in the visual display." This message came up in her vision as well, and was replaced after a moment as the voice continued. "Let's try this now. Focus on the word 'OKAY'." The word was in the center of her vision, but very faint. As Bixenta focused, the word became crisp and defined. After less than a second, it shimmered.

"You did it!" The voice seemed surprisingly happy for her having accomplished such a basic task. The same message appeared on her screen in stylized, rainbow-hued letters:

YOU DID IT!

"We can now set your preferences. Your visual and audio interfaces are entirely customizable. To begin with…"