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The beach smelled horrendous. It was spring and the algae had begun to bloom in the shallows creating a putrid-sweet scent that got caught up in the western winds and blew back into the city. The dome-nanos, and the waft-spirals of the tallest towers, were working overtime to filter the air that went in, but Polis still reeked.
Down on the streets, it wasn’t much better. The faux frost that coated the thoroughfare was vanishing and the foot traffic was picking up, and with that brought out thawing vermin of all kinds. The vagabonds unfurled from their hiding spots, the criminals were back on the prowl, and everyone in the city was shaking off the dry-ice on top of their weary, cold bones.
The city’s saving grace, though, was its Farmers’ Market. It was by the docks, in view of the sparkling hi-tech skyscrapers and green-ecos across the bay, a conglomerate of locally grown produce, flowers, and art from inside, and out, of Polis. And it smelled heavenly.
The breeze that blew over the docks was of the filtered city air, and it carried the smell of the market like a trail of breadcrumbs for all to find. The fresh coffee at opening, the bread and cheese at the entrance, fruit as sweet as candy, and micro-veggies as crisp as dirt-grown, were mixed in with the arts; paintings of Polis and her ocean, caricatures, sculptures, and the flower section.
Lexa Woods owned a flower shop in the city, Flos Potentia, but the smell of the algae overpowered the scent of her flowers there, so every year she came to the market to sell in the spring.
She carted her flowers, grown in the valleys of Mt. Weather, down to the docks every Saturday. Roses that smelled thick and heady as cloves and cinnamon, peonies that smelled as sweet as citrus, and gardenias that smelled like creamy coconut, with lavender, jasmine, and lilacs tucked in around them. The flower cart had a nitro-cold storage for transport and a mist to keep them fresh throughout the day.
At first, she was the only florist there, but over the years she had found herself in good company sandwiched between artists of all kinds. In between the cars that didn’t make it into the air that were turned into funky deco booths, and under the canopies of synthetic cotton mesh for the pottery wheels and honeycomb displays. Flowers were sold as attire, or artwork, or made edible.
Lexa sold her flowers in bouquets and arrangements for all sorts of occasions. She had a dozen roses for lovers, irises for daydreamers, sunflowers for the cheerful, and orchids for the wealthy and stylish. The tulips, peonies, and dahlias were for the Spring enthusiasts. And Lexa saved her poppies, red as the setting sun, and purple as a deep plum, for the ones who looked as wild as the flowers themselves that grew in the deepest part of the valleys.
Lexa also resembled her flowers, tall and strong, with slimmed muscles from carrying buckets and buckets of flowers from the mountainside. Her hair was tawny brown and braided down her back like a Gardenia trunk. She always wore a t-shirt with the Flos Potentia’s logo on it and mud-smudged jeans.
The flower stand was next to Luna’s Reef Rocks. It sold jewelry made from the ocean. Coral pieces and driftwood washed up treasures from long ago, and the finest sea glass baubles in all of Polis. Luna lived on the beach, outside of the dome-nanos, and carried her stock in a silver-combed fishing net. She had curls that smelled sweet like the ocean, a ferocious mane of burnt-orange coral and saltwater that cascaded over her sun-weathered skin. Lexa had never seen her wear shoes, but she had a permanent flip-flop line over her feet.
The early sun shone brightly over the bay and warmed the concrete steps to the old wooden docks. The creak of every footstep echoed faintly under the bustling market babel. It was always packed on market days. The beach was too smelly and the city too dull, so the people of Polis wandered lazily between stalls and stands until the last of the goods were sold.
There was a woman who bought a bouquet of flowers from the Flos Potentia stand every third Saturday. She had been coming for several months. Luna liked to tease Lexa about it, but she had to admit she was a little clueless when it came to the beautiful and mysterious woman.
It was like clockwork that she would pass by their stands as Fred’s Flonies was making a second turn around the Farmers’ Market. The trolley was full of fake flowers that were shaped into animals like air-filled balloons. He always tried to sell her a daisy dog or a daffodil duck, but the woman sidestepped his cart and went straight for Lexa’s flower.
She had a head full of curls that bounced with every step she took, almond-shaped eyes, and wore the most colorful outfits. On that day, it was a bright yellow romper that brushed the bottom of her calves and made her bare arms look glossy. She walked with an air of confidence and importance that made Lexa first take notice. But it was her love of flowers, though, that kept her looking.
Her hand skimmed over the cool mist that poured over the lavender. Lexa made the woman a flower crown quickly as she browsed and then handed it to her over the tops of her pick of pink peonies. Lexa tucked a stray blossom behind her ear before slipping her hands into her apron fiddling with the garden shears she kept there. The woman smiled and smelled the crown before placing it into her thick, black curls.
“Thank you,” she spoke softly and threw up two fingers like a peace sign. Lexa mimicked the gesture and smiled back. The woman kept on walking, checking out Luna’s and then the honeycombs before turning around abruptly. She walked back to Lexa. Her eyes narrowed in determination.
“I’m Costia, by the way. You’re beautiful—I mean, your flowers are beautiful,” she said in one short breath.
“Thanks...Lexa...pretty.” She pointed to her chest, having hardly caught on to what the other woman had said or what she was even saying, so stunned to hear her speaking to her at all. They had never spoken more than the necessary words for flower exchanges.
“How do you get your flowers to smell so fresh?”
“Well, have you been to the valleys? The dirt is infused with enhancements and they create these bulbs and blossoms that…,” Lexa prattled on.
“Not like Fred’s then?” Costia teased and jerked her head to the passing Flonies cart. The old man had a wreath of lilies he was shaping into a unicorn and waggling his eyebrows at her.
“He doesn’t leave you alone, does he?”
“No, he’s relentless.”
After the awkward introduction, they chatted effortlessly about where Lexa gathered her flowers, how long Costia had lived in the city, and what both of their favorite cheeses were that were sold in the market, for the next several moments, until they were interrupted.
“It looks like rain,” Luna called, pulling Lexa away from the conversation. All three looked up at the sky. The clouds were rolling quickly across the bay, small waves slapped at the sailboats, and the seagulls squawked from their perches in aggravation. “The wind is pulling from the ocean.”
Luna had a knack for predicting wave patterns and thunderheads at the beach, so Lexa didn’t question her forecast now, but before she even had a thought to close her stand down for the day, the rain began to pour. Fat, cold drops fell from the sky trapping everyone on the docks. It became slippery and most of the patrons scattered. Fred’s Flonies was wheeling away before Lexa could blink off the water coating her eyelashes.
Luna wrapped her jewelry up in her net tightly and then helped Lexa navigate her stand a few feet away under an awning for a yacht club dock. Their voices tumbled over the thunder and thudding downpour as they scrambled to protect the flowers.
Lexa looked back to see Costia standing frozen on the dock. Her curls were deflating around her face, sticking to her skin, and the white petals of her crown fell to ruin in the rain. She looked around wildly, drawn to the safety of the awning, yet yearning for the stormy path back up to the city.
Lexa and Luna beckoned her towards them waving their arms and shouting encouragement. She finally relented and hustled to them. Under the awning, she shook out her curls splashing Lexa, and apologized by bumping her arm.
They were both freezing, but the rain beat on. The sky was angry and dark threatening to break through the barrier and snatch them up, but then suddenly something was rushing up behind them, like a gust of wind or a couple of thugs. The secluded trio was knocked out from behind. Lexa felt the blow to the back of her head, hit the dock seconds later and everything went pitch black.
When she awoke, the rain had stopped, but she was lying in an alley, not the docks. From her position on the ground, she could see the red fire escape stairs that led up to a large window with familiar plants spilling out of it. She was outside her apartment in Polis. The stink of the algae was faint thanks to the rainstorm. She sat up slowly letting the blood rush back down in the right places and reached up to the back of her neck. Her fingers were sticky and caked in crimson when she brought them down in front of her face.
She looked over the rest of her body. Her clothes were dry, her hair had fallen from its braid, and her wrists were bruised. She wasn’t sure if it was late evening or early in the morning. The Polis sky in between the old brick buildings was rosy pink above her. There was no way to know how long she had been knocked out cold or what had happened to her. But she seemed relatively unharmed.
She sat there reveling in a state of shock, trying to gather her bearings so she could stand and retrace her steps back to the docks. She felt the panic swell as she searched around for her friends, calling their names, but the alley was empty.
All of a sudden, there was a pull in her mind and Lexa was back at the Farmers’ Market. She could see the overturned stands and ruined paintings through the sodden mesh. But the water looked odd to her. Bluer than she recalled. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t physically at the docks but seeing everything through someone else’s eyes.
“What the hell is happening?”
“Luna?”
“Lexa?”
It sounded like a retina receiver, a small computer implanted into the eyes that sent and received messages. Lexa had one, but she didn’t remember activating it. Luna sounded like she was right beside her and she could see what she saw, but that was impossible even with the hi-tech pupil advancement.
“Are you in my head?”
“I think so?”
Lexa tried to wrap her brain around the situation but her head throbbed. “Turn around and lift your hair up,” she told Luna.
As she lifted the soft-dried curls off her back, Lexa could see the trickle of blood staining her shirt and knew they both had the same jagged cut at the base of their heads. She got closer to Luna and saw the fresh stitches haphazardly sewing the incision back together.
Lexa wanted to touch it, run her fingers over the roughness, but before she could, Luna caught movement by the water and she took off for the beach leaving Lexa to snap back to the alley below her apartment.
“Wait!” Her voice echoed down the narrow passage.
She felt dizzy as she rose to her feet and walked toward the fire escape. It was three flights up to the broken window into her bathroom. She figured she could shimmy her way inside and get a fresh pair of clothes, maybe something solid in her stomach, and then she would figure out what the hell was happening to her.
She tried to reach out to Luna, but the link between them was blocked like something was jamming the sígnal. Whenever she reached out for Costia, she was met with darkness.
After she had freshened up, she sat down on her sofa to pull up the city interface and searched for an explanation for the scar on her neck and the possible connection inside her head.
She drifted off and it didn’t take long for her to be pulled a second time. This time to the center of the city in the highest tower. It was a clean loft, with sharp white walls and fancy chrome appliances. The walls were filled with geometric art designs that reflected off the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the city. Costia was leaning against the glass watching the cars fly along the freeways. She seemed relaxed and unaware of Lexa’s presence.
Lexa moved closer to her, testing the boundaries of their connection. She could sense they were alone. When she looked back around she could see the room was covered in vases of flowers, in various forms of life and decay. Every bouquet Costia had bought from Flos Potentia.
“Stay here with me,” Costia’s soft voice floated over Lexa. It felt like they were in a dream up in the clouds of luxury. Costia was obviously rich. She was wrapped in cashmere, she smelled of roses, and she had clearly tricked Lexa.
Her curly hair was pulled up into a bun. And as she turned around, Lexa could see that her neck wound was no more than a scar, not fresh like hers. The line had white spider veins shooting down the sides of it. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her body.
“Costia...what...happened to...us?” Lexa whispered.
“Artificial Intelligence is the next step in human evolution. It will help solve all of the world’s problems. Greed, war, famine…”
“There’s an AI in our head?”
“It’s for her. She uses our bodies when she needs to. It’s a test run, but it’s working.”
Lexa’s eyes volleyed back and forth to Costia’s beautiful brown, she found no lies there, but she didn’t understand. Lexa was a nobody. She was just a florist, for crying out loud!
Costia chuckled, reading her mind, and Lexa felt warmth as the woman reached for her hand.
“There is so much potential inside you now.” Costia smiled and leaned toward Lexa. Their bodies overlapped and Lexa rested in her until she heard a faint call.
“Lexa...Lexa…”
Luna was calling for help. Lexa looked toward Costia who was pleading with her to stay, but Lexa prayed for her not to stop her. She placed a kiss on her lips, the pressure of it light like she was kissing the air. When she pulled away, she didn’t have time to look back as she snapped back to her home and then fled down to the sandy shores.
There was a woman in Luna’s mind fighting to get control of her body. Lexa could see and hear and feel the struggle of it all as she ran faster. Her senses felt heightened. Being linked to others’ minds had created new sensations she didn’t have names for. A strength that was not only her strength, knowledge she didn’t know she had learned, and viewpoints of the world that were not her own.
The way from her apartment to the beach was short, but Lexa had to make it through the dome-nano. The shield crackled with energy and she briefly worried the AI in her neck would get her brain. A swipe of her city card and she was through without any problems. When she finally made it down to the beach, Luna had surrendered. Her body sagged in defeat. But as Lexa trudged through the heavily beaded sand, Luna’s head popped up. Her curls hung wildly around her face, coated in sand and salt, and her face was bloodied.
As she drew closer, Lexa could sense the woman who controlled Luna. She was hidden in the shadows of their shared minds. A tall brunette woman concealing where she really was.
The mysterious woman finally stepped from the shadows, and Lexa saw her for who she really was. It was Becca Franco, mad scientist, and ex-government adviser. She had been rumored to have created an AI that would be the next step in evolution. It must have been her creation that was in their heads now like Costia had told her. They had no control over their bodies.
Costia was pulling at her again. She was desperately trying to sync them together now. Like a siren call or a trail of flower petals for her to follow. She was no longer in her glass tower, but on her way to the beach.
A fog was settling over the shallows and Lexa’s mind. She knew what they had to do. To cut Becca from the mind link she would have to sever the bonds that held them all together. She had to take a chance that she could free them from this madness.
Lexa pulled out the garden shears from her pocket and swung her arms in a perfect oval shape. The microchips melted under the steel of the blades and four heads tumbled from their shoulders to the ground.