Unity by Jeremy Robinson Page A

hand and moves carefully over the tree. While my balance, and full-body pain, have returned with the morphine’s fading effects, Mandi’s limp form has Gwen in a permanent state of instability. And she refuses to let me take the girl. They were either good friends, or Gwen is over-committed to the Support dogma.
    Daniel, in the lead now, says, “People modify their bodies for a variety of reasons. The first was likely spiritual. Circumcision, for instance.”
    Gizmo pauses to shake his body and say, “Ugh.”
    “Gross,” Gwen says. It’s one of the few things she’s said since we left the beach.
    “It’s not like people don’t still do it,” Daniel says. “And there are other reasons. Social. Aesthetic.” He lifts his right hand, showing his Base brand. “Identification. The most recent and soon-to-be prevalent body modification is technological upgrading. And I’m not talking just the 3D-printed replacement organs. Full-on cyborgs. Enhanced physical capabilities.”
    “Like ExoFrames inside the body,” Gizmo says.
    Daniel thrusts a finger in the air, head down, watching his step. “Exactly.”
    “Sign me up,” Gizmo says. “I don’t want to be weak forev—”
    “You’re a Base,” Gwen says. “Strength is not a requirement.”
    “Maybe I don’t want to be a Base,” Gizmo says, waiting for me to lift him over another fallen trunk. This one is low to the ground, and I think he could easily make it over, but he pauses, lifts his arms slightly and waits for me to hoist him over.
    Are we bonding? Is this what bonding feels like? Is he doing it on purpose or is this a natural thing? Survival bonding?
    “Body piercing,” Daniel says, unfurling a finger with each word. “Tattoos. Scarification. Subdermal implants. Tongue splitting.”
    “Okay,” Gwen says. “Enough. Seriously.”
    “That’s not even the grossest stuff,” Daniel says. His voice has become higher, almost bird like. He’s getting a kick out of this. I think he meant to razz me, but he’s satisfied with grossing out Gwen. To his credit, he doesn’t push the subject any further into the obscene. “The point is, people change their bodies for a variety of reasons, but not simply because they like a color. It’s an outward expression of the psyche, or psychosis, depending on the person. Which brings us back to Gizmo’s question, why color your hair orange?”
    I sigh. In addition to being smart, another Base trait seems to be persistence. “This is the most I’ve had to talk in years.”
    “You’re doing great,” Daniel says with fake exuberance and a smile, turning around and giving his fist a chipper thrust. The move nearly spills him on his butt and gets a laugh from everyone, including me.
    “Fine,” I say. “My foster-mother hates it.”
    “Is she nice?” Gizmo asks.
    “This one is. Most of them weren’t.”
    “Oh.” His forehead furrows, but he continues onward and upward. “Why not?”
    “I was a way for them to get money.” I take a few steps and realize there’s more to it than that. “And I wasn’t an easy kid.”
    “None of us are,” Gwen says and then clarifies, “Unity recruits. Daniel, Sig, even me. We’re different. Most people don’t understand the way we think.”
    “But we do,” Daniel says. “It’s why you and Sig became friends. It’s why you like us.”
    The argument against this statement comes and goes like a breeze. I do like them. Having friends feels alien, and while I can admit it to myself, I don’t really want to talk about it, or rehash the ping-pong match between foster homes that was my childhood.
    So I deflect like a pro. “The orange streak is a warning.”
    Daniel looks at me with wide eyes and a half grin. He likes the sound of that.
    “It says I’m different. I’m unpredictable. It says I’d rather not knock your lights out, but I will if you mess with me.”
    “Like a poison dart frog,” Daniel says. “Other frogs hide. Try to blend in. But the poison