Mirror: Chapter 13

"How can you be okay with this?"

Ido didn't react at first, taking a moment to enjoy a spoonful of soup, "He seemed reluctant about letting go, so I'm not surprised."

"Can you extend his clinic hours? Keep him here?"

"Not by one minute. Alita, it's not our choice. You're the one that taught me that."

Her spoon swirled absentmindedly in her cooling food.

"It's nice having you here, this time of day. Usually, you're on the roof practicing your Panzer Kunst. Where's Adem?"

"He took my spot, to do motorball drills," she pouted, before dropping her utensil in the bowl, "Dad, what does The Right Side of the Valley mean?"

Ido answered, "It's an expression about synchronicity. It's not a linear score. It is divided into two parts: the left local maximum and the much higher right local maximum, and in-between them is a dip called The Valley. The right side of the valley means the score has increased enough to pass the dip."

"Why is everyone talking in another language, today?" Alita complained, rubbing her temples, "Now I have more questions than before."

With a patient smile, he continued, "People have an ingrained psychological instinct regarding the acceptance of what is human and what is not, and what is a machine and what is not. This is critical for cyborgs, as it pertains to cybernetic rejection. Too far to the left or to the right, or if the dip falls too low, and cybernetic core and mind desynchronize."

"And Adem went through two of those?"

He responded with a solemn nod, "His sister had a similar experience, but she had difficulties crossing the valley..."

Alita held her hands open in front of her, studying them, "I didn't realize being a cyborg was this difficult. This isn't something I think about, for me having a cyborg body is natural."

"Your score is very high, and it's obvious you peaked on the right maximum. It never wavers." Ido gave her a reassuring smile.

"What does that mean?"

"Peaking the right hill means your core and mind are flawlessly interlinked, and you consider yourself a whole individual."

"And if I had peaked on the left?"

"Then you would view yourself as a machine, and use your body as a means to an end. The worst examples of these are the Deckmen or Centurians, who have been partially lobotomized to remove the right hill altogether."

Alita studied the ceiling.

"I'll clean up," Ido suggested, and got up to tidy before she could stop him.

Two traffic-cones were spread out, and Adem raced from one to the other, circling them and then crossing in a figure-eight pattern. He had already repeated the path enough times for his wheels to leave black trails.

Alita silently applauded him despite his poor form, at least he didn't trip.

"Break time," she said, carefully carrying a bowl, "Come and sit."

"I need more repetitions," he panted, about to wipe his face with his metal forearm before stopping himself.

"Wrong," Alita smirked, "I'm team captain, so you have to do what I say."

He chuckled, "Who put you in charge?"

"It was a democratic vote, and I won by unanimous decision."

"I don't recall voting."

"New teammates don't have voting rights."

She sat and patted the space next to her. After a moment Adem tsk'd and coasted over.

"Eat up," she commanded, extending the bowl.

He held it in his hands and stared at the broth for a moment, "Still feels weird."

"What does?"

"Food."

She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers. Prompted as such, he lifted the spoon with tape-covered fingers.

"When you're done eating I'll practice with you."

They left the spoon clattering in the bowl and abandoned the roof.

"Is this what you meant by practice?" Adem asked, dismayed, "We're coasting around town."

"Oh, we're just having a little fun," Alita smiled over her shoulder at the trailing Adem, "We're not practicing yet."

Each graceful kick sent her surging forward like an Olympic swimmer in the water, even with her hands in her pockets she maintained precise balance. Adem felt clumsy, having to balance with his hands and rely on the motors in his feet.

She led him to a dry aqueduct, dampened only by shallow puddles. True to Iron City's aesthetics, large pipes, for transporting goods and fluids, encroached on the underused space. The entire thing was a mess of overlapping paths, ramps, pitfalls, and makeshift obstacles. As far as courses go, Adem felt, if he could navigate this one then the simpler motorball track should be fine.

"We'll race," Alita suggested, letting him pull up beside her, "The first one to the end wins."

She lifted her arms over her head and stretched.

"There's no way I can keep up in my current condition."

"Don't worry so much about it. I've never raced here so if you find a shortcut you can still win. We'll go on my signal, okay?"

"Sounds good," Adem said, crouching into a runner's take-off position, and tensing like a coiled spring. He preloaded his wheels by putting enough torque on them for forward pressure but not enough to peel out.

"On your marks, get set--oh I almost forgot--go!"

Adem burst forward but got nowhere, Alita kicked out his legs.

He landed face-first, right in place.

Narrowing her eyes, she gave a wolfish grin, "I never did pay you back for that punch you gave me in our last match."

His voice disappeared into the ground, as he hadn't lifted his head yet, "Why you little--"

"If you catch me," she giggled as she sped off into the distance, "You can have revenge!"

It was clear from the beginning that he wasn't going to win.

Her path was long, alternating between sides of the aqueduct like a rising and falling ocean wave. When she floated by a puddle, she leaned to the side, her shoulder only a foot of the ground as her inertia defied gravity. As a testament to her speed the disturbed water sprayed into the air several feet when she ran her finger through it.

Adem dodged the spray, the sudden change in his direction forcing his entire body to waver and nearly crash.

It reminded Adem of the foam of giant waves crashing on a cliff.

Another cascade of water crested with peals of laughter, "Have some faith and feel your way through it. Stop relying on the motors."

Adem didn't like his fuming was evaporating by watching how happy she was.

"Well, if I can't win, I might as well try something new."

The motors in his feet cut out, and he coasted until he figured out how to angle his feet to kick for more speed. Matching her cadence was impossible, but he remembered his body before total replacement.

It was a living thing and made motions only something alive could.

His new body, the one Alita kindly picked for him when he couldn't, was the middle-ground, the broken piece of glass between person and reflection. It moved fluidly, not like the EEMR with fixed joints.

If anyone could have asked his opinion, then he would have said he hated it. He didn't want a body like that back.

A short while ago, something horrible happened.

Don't remember that.

He bent his knees and kicked even harder, and keeping up was a little easier. Each cut imitated hers, leaning over the puddle, like laying on the air current.

Stay ahead of it.

His face, his original face, framed by the red and purple clouds, like flames, frowned back at him.

So he put out his hand and disturbed it, and he went as fast as he could to make the water fly as high as he needed it to.

Water soaked into the athletic tape and it uncurled. When held it up he could hear it flapping like a flag.

I'm still here goddamn it. You spent a year trying to kill me. Fuck you, I'm still here.

When the tape finally whipped away something inside him clicked, like a switch. The tactile feedback from his hand finally engaged.

No, it was always on, I forced myself to think otherwise because I didn't want it.

The air moved through his fingers, wiggling from the force, and he could feel it.

He stopped kicking and rolled to a gentle stop. There was no way he could look at her right now.

Accumulated exhaustion made his artificial lungs burn. Not because he was dying, but because he was alive. Long after he recovered from the fatigue, he continued gulping in air.

She returned quietly, asking to his back, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered, lifting his dry shirt up to his face, "Some water splashed me, that's all."