Partials series 1-3 (Partials; Fragments; Ruins). Dan Wells

The age is sixteen now, Kira.”

      

      “It’s official,” said Isolde. She was lying down on their couch, holding a bottle of some kind of liquor. It was half-empty. “It passed this afternoon. Or yesterday afternoon, I guess—it’s past midnight, isn’t it?”

      “I can’t believe this,” said Xochi. She stared at the floor. “I can’t believe this.”

      Isolde took a swig. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. Your government just gave you two months to get knocked up.” She held up the bottle, her face dull and red. “Cheers.”

      “You better get your fill of the booze now, then,” said Xochi. “You’ll be drinking for two pretty soon.”

      Kira sat on the couch in silence, watching the other girls complain and thinking about the Senate’s motives. On the surface, this was likely due to the Voice’s ultimatums. Anything less would be seen as a concession, and they were making a statement in direct opposition to them. But in her heart, she knew it had to be because of Samm. The “contingency plans” Hobb had hinted at. She had warned them to ease up, but instead they were tightening their grip, exerting more control. For the people who believed in the Hope Act, sure, this might be seen as a sign of strength and solidarity, but to everyone else? It was practically a declaration of war.

      The worst part was keeping the secret. She knew that Mkele was right—if the truth about Samm got out now, with tensions so high, the riot would be terrifying, and she’d be right in the middle of it. She didn’t dare say any more about Samm, or the tests, or anything else. Better to work as hard as she could, and cure the virus before anyone else had to die.

      And yet even after two full days, she wasn’t any closer. She knew how Samm thought, how he communicated, how he breathed and ate and moved, but she still didn’t know how his immunity worked. She was confused. And because she couldn’t tell anyone, she was confused alone.

      She felt like she was drowning.

      Isolde took a swig from her bottle. “Drinking while pregnant is punishable by incarceration and full-time monitoring,” she said. “I have to enjoy this now.”

      “Your baby is more important than your rights,” said Xochi. “As far as the Senate is concerned, you’re just a uterus with legs.”

      “Grow up,” said Kira sullenly. As soon as she said it, she felt guilty—she agreed with Xochi, so why was she attacking her? The Hope Act wasn’t working, and the Senate was strengthening it for the wrong reasons. Maybe it was the way she said it, the focus on personal rights over everything else. Kira had believed that too, but things were different now. She’d seen the Senate debate this—she’d seen the fear in their eyes. This was about extinction, like Delarosa had said. The other girls turned to her, and their surprised looks only made her angrier. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe something is more important than your rights? That maybe the survival of your entire species is more important than your right to whine about it?”

      Xochi raised her eyebrows. “Someone’s feeling bitchy.”

      “I’m just sick of hearing about everyone’s civil rights and everyone’s privacy and everyone’s inviolable power of choice. We either solve our problems or we go extinct—there is nothing in between. And if we’re going to go extinct, I don’t want it to be because Xochi Kessler was too worried about her rights to pitch in and save us.”

      Xochi bristled. “We’re not talking about pitching in,” she said, “we’re talking about institutionalized rape. We’re talking about the government taking full control over your body—what it’s for, what you do with it, and what other people can do to it. I’m not letting some horny old dude screw me just because the law says I have to.”

      “Then pick a horny young dude,” said Kira, “or get inseminated artificially—those are all options, and you know it. This isn’t about sex, it’s about survival.”

      “Mass pregnancy is the worst possible solution to that problem,” said Xochi.

      “Okay now,” said Isolde, her voice slurring, “let’s all calm down for a minute. Nobody’s happy about this—”

      “Sounds like Kira is,” said Xochi. “Of course she’s the one with a boyfriend, so I guess that makes sense—she’s probably doing him anyway—”

      Kira jumped across the room with a scream, blind with fury, clawing for Xochi’s neck, but Isolde leaped up to block her, tripping drunkenly over her own feet. She lost her balance, but clung to Kira so strongly Kira couldn’t get past her to Xochi; Kira tried to fight past her, shoving Isolde away, gouging her forehead with her fingernail. Isolde yelped in pain, and Kira’s struggling devolved into tears.

      “Damn,” gasped Xochi.

      “Just sit down,” said Isolde, easing Kira onto the sofa beside her. Kira sobbed, and Isolde held her gently. She shot Xochi a cold glance. “That was over the line.”

      “I’m sorry.” Xochi settled herself back into her seat. “I’m sorry, Kira, you know I didn’t mean it. I’m just going crazy—this whole damn thing is over the line.”

      “What’s done is done,” said Isolde. “The law is passed. Now we can complain about it, or we can get drunk enough to not care.”

      “You’ve had too much of that as it is,” said Xochi, standing up and ripping the bottle from Isolde’s hands. Isolde’s grip was loose, her strength used up in the struggle with Kira, and Xochi took it easily, opening the window and throwing the bottle outside.

      “Hey, Xochi!” It was a voice from the street, one of the local boys—Kira didn’t recognize it exactly. “Crazy stuff with the Hope Act, right? You guys wanna talk? Can we come in?”

      “Go to hell,” said Xochi, and slammed the window closed.

      “That was my bottle,” said Isolde, her voice slurring. Nobody paid her attention.

      “I’m sorry, Xochi,” said Kira, sitting up straighter. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at . . . pretty much everything else in the world. But the world doesn’t have a face, so I was going to take it out on yours.”

      Xochi smirked, but her expression fell again just as quickly. “I’m not ready,” she said softly. “None of us are ready.”

      Isolde traced a pattern on the couch with her finger. “Haru was right, you know. What he said in the Senate hearing. We don’t have any children left, just adults who don’t know what they’re doing.”

      The girls sat quietly, lost in their thoughts. Kira thought about Marcus—she’d rejected his advances, and now the government had changed everything. A two-month grace period to get things going, and then she could get arrested just for not being something she’d never been before. If she had to have children, she wanted them to be Marcus’s, she guessed; she’d never thought about anyone else, not seriously. But if she told him now, he’d know it was for the law, and not for him. She couldn’t do that to him. And yet she couldn’t go to anyone else without hurting him even worse.

      Besides, she didn’t want to be pregnant. Not like this. If she was going to create a new life, she wanted to do it because it meant something, not because she’d been forced to.

      And yet she’d just yelled at Xochi for proposing the same idea. She didn’t even know what to think anymore.

      For just a second—just the briefest fraction of a moment—she thought about Samm, and wondered if a half-Partial child would be immune.

      “Do any of you remember your mother?” asked Isolde. “Not your new one, Xochi, your old one. Your real mother from before the Release.”

      “A