Escaping All Constraints

In an open field at the base of the mountains, the hushed buzz of a million cicadas reverberates through the air. Hugo pulls back on the joystick, and his ornithopter rises into the sky. Through the front windows, he sees eleven more ornithopters do the same.

With eight wings and the body of an insect, ornithopters mimic the flight movements of a dragonfly. The wings rotate at blinding speeds in order to create lift. Only small adjustments in these rotations – controlled by the joystick in the front cockpit – are enough to perform rapid in-flight maneuvers.

“Final checks, complete,” Hugo says, his hololens picking up and relaying only his voice to the person in the rear cockpit.

“Good to go,” Maria replies.

Hugo lets the ornithopter rise twenty more feet off the ground, then edges the joystick forward. They fly off, in tandem, with the other ornithopters.

Even though Hugo can see the ornithopters through the window, his hololens details their exact speed and distance away from him. It even briefs him on the position of aircraft behind.

Emily’s voice comes through his hololens: “All right, teams, once we’re in position, wait for my signal.” She’s back in the open field, monitoring the position of all aircraft in this exercise.

It’s the final test of flight training. The time that the recruits complete the race course effectively ranks them amongst each other. And it determines whether or not they pass.

The ornithopters in front of Hugo form a horizontal line, hovering mid-air. Hugo edges his ornithopter to the starting line as well, an invisible line projected in his vision by the hololens.

This is the second test of the day. The first – earlier this morning – enabled the pilots of this round to copilot in the rear of the cockpit. The copilot test is supposedly much easier to pass, but Hugo barely managed, thrown around like a ragdoll by Maria’s sharp but controlled turns.

“You’ve got this, Hugo,” Maria tells him, as if sensing his nervousness. Perhaps she sees his hand, quaking softly on the joystick.

A voice from outside of the aircraft enters Hugo’s hololens: “Please don’t mess us all up this time.”

In the ornithopter to his left, a young man gives him a wave and a condescending look.

Hugo’s unsure of whether or not he should reply; they’re not meant to be communicating between ornithopters during the test.

But it’s true. In the basic stages of learning to fly the ornithopter – and even in recent practice exercises – Hugo’s subpar skills caused friction between him and his other teammates. This resulted in him being the only recruit without a partner for this test.

Luckily, Maria volunteered to be Hugo’s crewmate in order for him to complete the testing. And there was quite the reaction when she beat everyone with her time this morning.

But this recruit’s comment throws Hugo into a loop. As he grapples with thinking of something to reply with, the voice comes through his hololens again:

“Not all of us are here as a coping mechanism. So don’t hold us all back, yeah?”

Hugo freezes.

“All pilots, standby.” Emily’s voice comes through all hololens, oblivious to the comments that have just been made. “Begin in three… two… one… fly!”

Hugo, plagued by the reality of those comments, is late to the mark. Is this whole military stint of his just an emotional reaction to Eugene’s death? He has no time to come to a conclusion, though, because it’s his ornithopter who’s last off the start line.

“Hugo?” Maria questions his lateness, but he rams the joystick forward.

The ornithopter lurches forward, prompting Maria to squeak in surprise. Hugo might lose a few points for that; they’re also tested on the strain they put on the aircraft. But he doesn’t care about that now.

The ornithopters fly at full speed for a couple of minutes, reaching the rocky cliffs of the mountains. They fall into a single-file line and begin curving around the rock faces, following the course projected by their hololens.

While Hugo flies, he knows Maria’s busy completing the radar and navigation tasks of the copilot in the rear of the cockpit. It’d be a cinch for her, seeing as she designed most of the ornithopter tech in the first place.

Hugo yanks the joystick into a maneuver, overtaking the ornithopter in front of him. He pulls it off, just in time before the ground surrounds both sides of Hugo’s vision. He makes tight turns through the canyon, while slowly increasing his speed.

A radar starts beeping in the cockpit, letting him know that he’s getting a bit too close to the aircraft in front of him.

“Hugo, don’t push it,” Maria warns.

But something about her doubting his abilities drives him up the wall even further.

The ornithopters exit out of the canyon. Hugo jerks the joystick to the side, close to brushing the side of the ornithopter he was just tailing. As he pulls up alongside, he sees the recruits shoot him a dangerous look – the proximity alarms must have been blaring in their cockpits.

Enemy aircraft are projected in Hugo’s hololens. He makes small movements with his joystick, avoiding the holographic fire from the fake aircraft. Of course, in a real dogfight, it’d be much different. But this test is concerned more with speed and handling the ornithopter under pressure than actual aerial fighting.

In open parts of the course like this, both the front and rear cockpit is tested. They’re required to take out all enemy aircraft before they hit this next section of the course.

Hugo sees Maria take out an enemy aircraft with their on-board weapons system. About time, too, as the mountain range resumes just ahead of them. He pushes the joystick forward even more, accelerating ahead of a couple of ornithopters.

“Slow down!” Maria says. “At this speed, most copilots will find it difficult to target enemy aircraft.”

But Hugo knows that Maria is not like most copilots. She’s not like the recruits in the other ornithopters.

“Okay,” Hugo says, but he doesn’t slow down. Not even a bit.

He might be pushing it, but he knows she won’t do anything to hinder his result. She hasn’t mentioned her past involvement with Hugo thus far, so he highly doubts she’d do anything like that now.

Maria takes out the last two aircraft with ease, and the ornithopters fall in a rough line once again. This time, however, Hugo and Maria are midway through the pack.

On his radar, Hugo sees the ID of a certain ornithopter in second position. Its pilot is the one who taunted him earlier. Hugo scoffs – the young man’s cocky, but skilled.

The terrain on this section of the course is tight. Hugo zigzags past cliffs, his heart leaping occasionally as he worries he might lose control. But he manages to gain on the ornithopter in front of him, and that’s all he really cares about.

The alarm in the cockpit beeps again as Hugo approaches.

“Careful!” Maria warns. “You’re too close!”

But he sees an opportunity. He pushes the joystick down and steers into a gap under the ornithopter in front. In response, the pilot in the ornithopter above jerks upwards, giving Hugo their position.

The course directs the ornithopters along the top of a mountain ridge, the ridge’s peak remaining at the same height for several kilometers. Invisible enemy aircraft appear on Hugo’s radar and in his hololens.

After the ornithopters spread out to fight their own fake enemy aircraft, Hugo incrementally increases his speed. He knows Maria’s focusing on taking the aircraft out, so she might not notice him pushing ahead of the other recruits.

However, Maria performs her duty effortlessly, shooting the enemy aircraft down immediately. And she does realize.

“Hugo, you’re not acting within your abilities,” Maria says. “If I catch you pushing it one more time, I’ll fail you myself.”

Hugo rolls his eyes for a fraction of a second, before his eyesight is required and he snaps out of it to focus. If Maria was just a recruit, she wouldn’t have the power to threaten him like this.

The mountain ridge ends and Hugo throws the joystick down the edge of the mountain. It’s an exhilarating feeling, traveling downwards with the ground just below you every step of the way.

At the base of the mountain, the ornithopters get back in line in anticipation for another canyon. This one’s much tighter and more twisty than any they’ve been through.

Hugo confirms it on his radar – he’s in third position. He’s severely pushing his abilities to remain that way, though, because ornithopters try to sneak past him from behind.

A curve almost makes him lose control, but he jerks the joystick and saves it at the last minute. Maria shouts out in fear. They exit the canyon and curve around mountains. It’s an easy trip to the finish line, with plenty of opportunity for overtaking those still in front.

But Maria’s not having it anymore.

“Alright, Hugo, you’ll have to return to the base now,” she says. “I know you’re not in control. You’re putting everyone’s safety at risk.”

Hugo curves a mountain on the outside of the second-place ornithopter. He knows at this point that he’s failed the test. And the entire training program.

So he’s going to push it just a little bit further.

He pulls back on the joystick, then immediately rolls it to the left. Gravity seems to disappear for a moment as their ornithopter rotates upside down. It rolls over the second-place ornithopter and rights itself on the other side.

This is it – Hugo’s pulled it off. He’s now closer to the mountain, putting him in second place. If he can maintain this pace, victory is only twenty seconds away.

But Hugo loses control of the aircraft. He feels its momentum slip away from his steering. He tries to correct it, but in the next second they’re plummeting towards the side of the mountain. He pulls back as hard as he can to steer the ornithopter over the mountain, but it’s too late.

Alarms blare in the cockpit, these ones much more threatening.

“Eject!! Eject!!” Maria screams at him through his hololens, her wiry voice clipping at peak volume.

As the cockpit’s entire window becomes rapidly approaching terrain, Hugo ejects from the ornithopter. His parachute immediately deploys.

A split second later, the aircraft crashes into the mountainside in a fiery explosion. Several of its wings tear off on impact, the metal grating viciously against rocks.

Hugo’s too close; the shock wave throws his parachute for a spin, making him lose control of that too. He lands several meters from the wreck, his side scraping on the rocks as he hits the ground.

From within the twisted metal, microbots emerge. Microbots aren’t just suitable for fixing solar panels – they’re also stored on board aircraft to sense and repair minor damage. In the midst of such a major crash, however, they seem unsure of where to go.

“Hugo!” Maria, having landed safely herself, unclips her parachute and rushes over to him.

Apart from the scraping on his body, he feels uninjured. So he relaxes, thinking about how close he was to beating that jerk. The jerk that might have been right, after all.

Several microbots crawl in his direction, communicating with the others using wireless technology. He sits up as they reach him, chuckling as their little mechanical feet crawl up from his torso to his arm.

Being helped to his feet by Maria, he doesn’t hear what she’s telling him. Instead, he thinks about how wrong he was to be relying on other people to help him.

He doesn’t need the military to find out more about his brother. Or even to help him find Noah. He’s more than ready to do it all himself.

* * *

For two months, they’ve left Noah in the bathroom alone. At first, he wallowed in pain and pity, concentrating on healing his fingers. Simon entered once more, offering to wrap them, but Noah declined. Instead, he did the agonizing process himself, taping the splints into place and resting his hand.

Once the initial burning was replaced by a constant, dull thumping in his fingers, his mind drifted to focus on only one thing – escape. Staring at himself in the cracked mirror above the sink, his face glared back at him like a ghost. But he gradually became used to observing his own pale, shallow cheeks.

Perhaps more startlingly, though, he examined the jagged, sharp edges of the glass fragments – his easiest means to escape. But although Noah might be a coward, he’s certainly not weak-willed.

He did end up peeling off one of the glass pieces, though, but not for such a purpose. And he still uses it now, weeks later, after using it with his left hand at any moment he’s awake.

Noah’s cut halfway through one of the wooden planks over the window. He scrapes the glass back and forth, careful not to slip and cut himself, as he’s done a couple of times already. Once again, however, it slips between his fingers, and he exhales violently. His hand tenses up in pain.

In that same moment, the bathroom door opens behind him. Noah immediately drops the glass piece, turns around and sits flat on top of it, leaning his back on the wall.

Simon walks in, evidently suspicious. Whether he’s seen Noah sit down abruptly or heard a noise, Noah isn’t certain.

Noah stares Simon dead in the eyes, clearly indicating that Simon’s unwelcome.

“How are your fingers healing?” Simon walks over to Noah, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

Noah gives it a moment. “You haven’t been concerned in weeks.”

“I’ve wanted to give you time to think about what I said.”

“That you’re a liar?” Noah retorts. But he isn’t sure he believes it.

“You don’t need to be so defensive anymore,” Simon says. “I know you understand.”

Noah clenches his jaw, refusing to answer.

“You’re on the right side of history, Noah,” Simon continues. “And you should be proud of what we can achieve.” He grabs Noah’s left hand, holding it in both of his.

Noah doesn’t pull his hand back, but winces involuntarily from his fresh cut. Simon notices and takes his hands away, letting out a small gasp of surprise – there’s a trace of Noah’s blood on his hands.

Noah tries to take Simon’s focus away from it. “You’re a psychopath.”

Thankfully, Simon does seem to push it aside. “There you go again – calling me names, but you know I’m right.” He stands, hesitating before he walks away. “You know I’ll be here for you when you’ve come to terms with everything.”

And then he’s gone.

Noah doesn’t ponder Simon’s words this time. He pulls out the glass piece from under him and begins cutting through the wood, even faster than before.

But, after slicing his hand just before, it hurts to cut like this. He gives up, tossing the piece of glass against the side of the bathtub in anger. The glass shatters, but Noah barely notices. He grabs the wooden plank in both hands – groaning at the pain that shoots up both his arms – and heaves it backwards.

At the point where Noah cut, the plank splinters off. Daylight streams into the bathroom, bouncing off the walls and brightening the space at last. Adrenaline pumping through his body, Noah reaches his arm out the gap. He then tries to fit his head through, but the space is still too small.

Noah’s not going to let himself be discouraged, though, so he grabs the back of the plank above and yanks with both hands.

The plank doesn’t budge. Of course it doesn’t – he hasn’t even cut a sliver through this one.

But, in a mixture of frustration and determination, Noah yanks on it again, groaning at the aching of his hands and fingers. He does it again, then again, and then one last time. It finally comes free.

Noah fits his head through this time. He pushes the rest of his torso out with his elbows, falling onto his side on the concrete ground below. He has to shield his eyes from the sun; it’s not intense, but he hasn’t experienced full sunlight in two whole months.

He takes off his watch and throws it back inside the bathroom. He looks into his prison one last time, then turns and dashes away from the warehouse.

The decaying buildings blur past him as he runs through the streets, traveling in the vague direction of the place he wants to go.

He’s conscious that it’s only a matter of time before Aiden and Simon find out he’s missing. Once they find that out, they’ll do a radar scan of the old world and find him in no time. Thus, he needs to go to the one place he knows for certain they won’t be able to find him – the abandoned bunker.

Noah finds the edge of the old world. He keeps up his pace until he spots the entrance to the bunker, hidden in the overgrowth. He trods down the concrete steps, less slippery in sunny weather. The bunker’s door is still stuck open, so he enters. He relaxes his tensed shoulders, knowing he now won’t be visible on any vital sign radar scan.

It’s dark inside, but Noah has no watch for a source of light. He walks up to the control room door – barely visible in this light – and hopes for the miracle that it isn’t locked.

But the door handle won’t budge.

Noah kicks the door in frustration. Of course it’s still locked. He sighs heavily, frustrated at himself for being so deluded.

All of a sudden, his face rushes to meet the door. His arms are pinned behind his back from an unknown force. He whacks his nose, pain erupting in the middle of his face.

“Thought you could escape, did you?” Aiden’s voice tickles Noah’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

As Noah moves his mouth to speak, the blood from his nose trickles into his mouth. “How did–?”

“Your father knew something was up when he found fresh blood on your hand,” Aiden says, relishing in revealing this information. “So he came to me like the good dog he is. And look at what we’ve found.”

Something about Aiden talking about Simon this way angers Noah. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but the feeling’s there. He tries squirming away, but Aiden wrestles him back into place.

“Just come with me,” Aiden demands, his powerful voice immediately bending Noah’s will.

Noah knows he’s lost. If he struggles, he’s just going to get himself even more hurt. He allows Aiden to take him to the main bunker door and up the concrete steps.

Aiden guides him through the streets, back to their hideout. The whole time, Aiden taunts him, but Noah doesn’t rise to his words and blocks them out.

About halfway back to the hideout, Aiden freezes, immediately shutting his mouth and preventing Noah from walking forward.

A white drone – similar in both shape and size to Eugene’s – emerges from a building in front of Noah. But this one has a machine gun.

Aiden jumps in front of Noah, throwing him backwards onto the ground. Noah’s eyes can barely process the bullets ricocheting off Aiden’s metal legs and torso, positioned between Noah and the drone.

In the next moment, Aiden grabs Noah and they run for cover off the main street. Noah’s half-carried by Aiden as they go; his legs barely hit the ground.

“Stay down!” Aiden throws Noah through a doorway.

Noah crouches inside the building. He shuffles over to a window and takes a peek from below.

Outside, Aiden stands in that same stance as before, ensuring the bullets only hit the metal parts of his body. The drone approaches Aiden slowly, firing an endless torrent of bullets.

When it’s within ten meters, Aiden brings his other leg forward and pushes off the ground. He dashes at the drone, before jumping into the air. With a single blow from Aiden’s metal arm, the drone’s sent spiraling towards the ground. The course of the bullets spray in all directions, making Noah duck back behind the window.

In a couple of seconds, the gunfire stops. Noah stays as still as possible, careful not to make any noise. His heart fights for a way out of his body.

The thought dawns on him – it’s a military drone, and it really is trying to kill them. Not just Aiden, but both of them.

Aiden stumbles through the doorway, clutching his stomach. Blood drips to the floor, leaving a trail of red droplets as he walks. Noah, stuck like a deer in headlights, doesn’t resist when Aiden grabs him in both hands and yanks him to his feet.

“We’ve got to move,” Aiden growls.

Noah supports Aiden as they stumble back to their hideout, cautious of more military drones lurking around any corner.

They’ve just been found together, so escaping with Aiden is Noah’s only hope. It won’t be long before the military comes after them – indiscriminately, and with full force.