The exact number.

The man, thin and greying, took out a packet of crayons. He had one lazy eye and his jaw was always slightly jutting out. “My favourite colour is yellow,” he said with a heavy drawl.

“Why yellow?” asked Jin.

“Dunno.”

“You’re using it to colour that sunflower. Do you like yellow because you like sunflowers?”

He shrugged. “I just always said yellow. Always was, always will be.”

Jin waved away the smell of offal and blood. There was no point in further small talk. She opened up her interface and began the interview. “Could you please state your name and details for the record?”

“My name is Barry. Everyone calls me Boil.”

“Hello, Boil.”

“I work at the local abattoir. On the killing floor. Been working there since I was fifteen.”

“Do you like working there?”

“Dunno. Pays well, I guess.”

“Alright. And what do you do on the killing floor?”

“I kill.” He reached for a different crayon. “At the beginning, I used a sledgehammer. The homunculus comes over, I give it a whack on the head. Boop. Like that. Cracks the skull, bashes the brains. Quick death. I never see what happens after, though. Somebody else takes it away and turns it into meat.”

“That sounds like a tough job.”

“Very hard. You needed strong arms to keep lifting the hammer and slamming it. I was very strong back then so it wasn’t so bad.”

“What about now?”

“I’m older now. Arms aren’t as strong as before. But thankfully, abattoirs don’t use sledgehammers anymore. We use bolt guns now.”

“Bolt guns?” Jin made a note. “Could you explain those?”

Boil bit the end of his crayon. “It’s like a pistol. You press it on the homunculus’s head, pull the trigger, but instead of a bullet it’s a metal rod. Rips right through the bone and you don’t need to go digging around for the bullet after. Isn’t that nice? It’s so easy, a toddler could do it. I let my son try it when he was eight.”

“You let a child kill a homunculus? Isn’t that a bit irresponsible?”

“Why?” He glanced at Chang, who was watching the interview from the doorway of the house. “You guys do it.”

“That’s…” Jin sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Nevermind. Let’s continue. You keep mentioning how you kill the homunculus instantly. Why?”

Boil looked at her like she was stupid. “Because slow death makes the meat taste bad. If the homunculus knows it is dying, if it can feel the pain, all that goes into the flesh. Pain makes the meat too tough and all the blood that pools there makes it taste like copper.”

“Homunculi don’t have blood.”

“What do you call it then? The white blood. Like milk.”

“The official term is Lymph.”

“Dumb word. Blood is better. Easier, too,” said Boil. He went back to his colouring. “I tried slow before. Y’know, out of curiosity. I built a soundproof room out the back, put a pipe down the throat and let it bleed out. Tasted okay to me, but I guess the customers don’t like ‘em like that.”

“Why soundproof?”

“Cause they scream. Real loud. Will burst your eardrums if you ain’t careful. See, homunculi can sense the bloodlust. They’re smart like that. They know what you’re thinking so when you come at them with the knife, they know they ‘bout to die. It’s the same with the quick deaths. It takes real skill to hide your thoughts. I’m real good at it. They never scream when I’m killing ‘em.”

Jin nodded along. She took a few rough notes on her interface before asking the next question. “You reported a missing homunculus two weeks ago, yes? Could you go into further detail with me please.”

“Oh, I remember that one, “ he said. “I don’t remember most of them, but I remember her very well. Small for her age. Had some warts on her backside I had to treat so there’s a scar there. I called her Betty.”

“Do you usually give homunculi names?”

“Nope. Just her ‘cause I was fond of her.”

“Could you tell me about the day she ran away?”

“It was the day before she was supposed to be gutted,” Boil recalled. “Cause she was gonna be gone the next day and I had a fondness for her, I treated her real nice. The homunculi usually sleep in the cages, but I brought her into the house for the night. Fed her some potatoes from my dinner, too. I thought I kept my mind pretty guarded but she must’ve sensed something was off because by mornin’, she was gone.”

“Breed?”

“Dunno. Cattle’s cattle.”

“Any markings?”

“Burned a brand on her forehead. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Do you think it could’ve made it to the national park?”

“National park? Beats the hell out of me.” Boil paused for a moment, staring at her. “What’s that thing they gave the veterans? The medal. Black something?”

“The Black Laurel? What about it?”

He smiled. Most of his teeth were missing, and the only ones left were yellow and disfigured. “They should give me one of those. I bet I’ve killed more homunculi than you.”

Jin glanced at Chang, who just shrugged. She turned back to Boil, closed her interface, and stood. Boil kept colouring. “Thank you for your time, Boil. If the Runners Bureau needs anything else, we will make sure to call you. Alternatively, if you remember anything else about the escaped homunculus, you can notify us here.”

Jin spun around to leave after putting a business card on the table. She didn’t make it one step out when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

“Ms Runner,” said Boil, one hand hooked on her.

“Do you have something else to add?”

He picked up the sheet he was colouring in and waved it at her. The strokes were thick and roughly done, and rarely stayed within the lines. It took a moment for her to even recognise the original artwork: a handful of pink cartoon pigs, surrounded by sunflowers. They were smiling in front of a classic red-brick barn.

“I’m done.” Boil grinned.

❖

Jin Yurinhalt approached one of the trees, a vaulting sentinel of fading brown and emerging grey. She rubbed her hand against the bark and felt only cold metal. Even after knowing what they were and noticing the seams of the disguise, the disparity was disorientating. One moment, it was a tree, the next, a steel tower.

“This shit is so trippy.” Chang’s voice came directly into her mind via the interface. “The first time you see it, you don’t think much of it, but then someone points it out to you and all of a sudden, you can’t see anything else.”

“Faster we search, the faster we can get out of here,” she replied.

“Are you sure the bureau won’t let us shut down a few of the cell towers? We could finally use the infra-red scanner without all that static fog. Would make it so much quicker.”

“Their hands are tied, just like ours. Federation won’t let them damage important infrastructure.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, tell that to Séquard, I’m sure he’ll listen.”

“Chang.”

“What? Not like he can hear us.”

Jin rolled her eyes, despite Chang not being there to see it. She kept trudging through the forest, turning her head from shoulder to shoulder. Orange streaks of sun filtered through the slits between the trees. It was a constant reminder that they were burning daylight.

“Why are you so antagonistic towards him?” she asked.

“I’ve been nothing but respectful.”

“Antagonistic isn’t the right word then. You’re terrified.”

“Colonel, have you seen him? He was too crazy for the bureau, and that’s saying something.”

“He recognised you. Called you cadet. You two met during the war?”

“Twice,” Chang recalled. “There was a bridge down at Nephros. Command called it a strategic outpost or whatever, but it was overrun by homunculi. Turned out a Grendel made its nest there. They could’ve sent a whole company, but they just sent in Major General Clint Séquard. We were just there for cover fire.”

“I remember hearing about that battle. The news had a field day with it.”

“Cause the man took out a fucking Grendel model by himself. He didn’t just kill it either, he decimated it. But that’s not really the part I care about or remember. See, it was after the battle, right? I was just sitting on my ass, trying to scrub Lymph off my skin. Séquard himself comes up to me and asks for a lighter. He used it to light one of those big thick cigars.”

“Why’d you have a lighter?”

“Don’t remember. I think I liked burning incense or some shit. Anyhow, he asks me how many homunculi I think I killed. I told him I was just a conscript and I couldn’t give a shit how many I killed as long as I get to go home alive with a pension. He says, I know exactly how many you killed. The exact number.

“I knew if you managed to get a Black Laurel, the federation will give you a wad of cash, so I told him, ‘fuck it, why not.’ Séquard says, ‘do you really want to know? Those weren’t mindless beasts out there, they’re living, thinking animals just like us. They got friends, they got families. In fact, they’re probably out there mourning their dead right now. Killing a homunculus is the same as shooting your pet dog through the head. Do you really want that on your conscience? That exact number?’

“I don’t know what I was thinking, but I told him yes. I told him I wanted to know how many I killed.”

“What did Séquard say?” asked Jin.

“Not enough, Cadet.”

She opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it with a snap. There was a rustling noise. She pivoted on her heel. Her head spun towards the sound, and froze on a white blur hiding behind a tree. The homunculus, small for its breed, was hunched over on the dirt. Long spindly limbs stretched out from a pale white torso; two black pits sat in place of eyes. Jin knew homunculi had white skin, but with its emaciated body and skull-like head, it looked more like the skeletal remains of a long dead man.

The only things separating it from its feral brethren was its thin coat of fur, a tinge darker than its flesh, and the deep burn marks on its forehead. It was likely seared into the flesh with a piping hot iron.

“Betty,” said Jin, out loud. The homunculus raised its head at the sound of its name, and Jin could see what it had been doing. The creature’s mouth and chin was smeared crimson, a striking colour on its pale skin. Bits of muscle and sinew dripped from its two open jaws. There was a carrion on the ground, so shredded and mangled, she could not recognise what animal it was.

“Colonel?” Chang’s voice spoke. “Did you find something?”

Without thinking, she reached for the pistol on her belt. Her instincts were screaming. Shoot it in the leg, keep it immobile. Cut the scalene muscles so it can’t breath. Kill it.

The homunuculus backed away, shivering. Was it cold? Or was it afraid?

Jin stared into Betty’s eyes, the two gaping voids that stood in their place, and the voices in her head dulled. There was something familiar about those eyes, as alien and monstrous as they were; like glimpsing someone you knew in the face of a passing stranger.

I’m tired, Ms Yurinhalt, his voice echoed. Please let me rest.

“Colonel? Colonel, is everything okay?”

“It was nothing,” said Jin, finally. She lifted her hand of her pistol. Then, before she could regret her moment of defiance, she muted her communications.

As slowly as she could, Jin put her hands in the air. “Betty,” she repeated. “Hey girl.”

The homunculus peeked her head out further, if only out of curiosity. Her eyes were twitching, perhaps to scan her surroundings.

“I…uh…”

What was she supposed to say?

“My name is Jin Yurinhalt,” she decided on. “You can…just call me Jin.”

Betty tilted its head. It wasn’t the ideal reaction, but at least it wasn’t running away.

“When you killed Samuel West, I know it wasn’t out of malice. I know it’s just…in your nature. It’s just how it is, right? The lion eats the gazelle and nobody bats an eye.” Jin breathed deeply. “But you are dangerous, and with Samuel West, you have proven it so. I am sorry, but I cannot let you roam free.

“If the other Runners find you, they will execute you on the spot, as I thought to. I know what it’s like to be scared. To believe you are alone. Please, let me help you.”

She extended a hand, hoping desperately that beyond words, on some fundamental level, her emotions got through. Betty inched closer, craning her head. She gave the hand a sniff, pulled back for a moment, and met Jin’s eyes again.

Little by little, she raised her claw, extending it towards the hand. The fading sun refracted in her fur coat, colouring her body with a golden glow. Their breaths, both Jin and Betty’s, turned to fog in the evening chill. They, too, caught the light and shined white.

Just as their fingers threatened to touch, the day’s beam flashed purple. No, Jin realised. It was another light, one strong enough to block out the sun’s. Their foggy breaths disappeared as the cold air shifted warm, then became scalding hot.

Betty pulled back in pain, hissing. Her legs kicked back, and she darted in the opposite direction.

“No!” Jin called out. She poised to run, yet the sun flickered violet again, and this time, her instincts won out. Jin threw herself back.

She could barely glimpse it when it came rampaging past. She could only describe it as a vortex or maelstrom, though instead of water, it was purple flames. They tore through the trees, ripping them from the soil, root and all, with thunderous clap and rumbling earth.

The exposed wires sparked as they were cut, shooting bolts of electricity all around. Jin felt a few strike her, searing hot and flaying her skin from its flesh. The pain was so great, she thought she would faint.

When the light faded and the flames calmed, there was a river of mud, scorched black between grassless earth. Some remnant embers were still burning on what few trees remained.

“Colonel?!” Chang cried out. “Are you okay?”

Jin coughed amongst the smoke. “More or less. What about you?”

“Fine. I wasn’t in the blast radius. What the fuck happened?”

“Séquard.”

“He’s blacklisted from all cybernetics, let alone ones this powerful.”

“That wasn’t cybernetics.” She forced herself to stand. “That was his Axiom.”