“Um. It’s still a few hours away.” I thought quickly. I just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. “Any advice before I go to sleep?” I wasn’t going to sleep, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Advice?” She released, of all things, a husky laugh. “Well, I can say listen to your body. Is it telling you to run headfirst into our gauntlet, become one of us, and then move on? As you’ve asked? Or is it telling you something else? Perhaps that you should consider alternate arrangements?”

  My brows flicked up. “Alternate arrangements? Are you telling me, after making me go see that crazy shaman and everything else, that I shouldn’t do this?”

  Her eyes turned exacting. “I’m not telling you to do anything. I know the path you are on now. But when I completed my Chitakla many years ago, I did not have a smooth time with the shaman. It took many times for my spirit to be ready. Perhaps they didn’t think I was strong enough to make it through, to end my childhood, and receive a new name. I had to look deep inside myself to do that transformation.” For some reason, I thought of Chamuk. Of her reminding me of the ways I would never change. Would never transform. “There is no shame in not being ready the first time.”

  There may not have been shame, but there was urgency. My mission had been derailed enough. I shook my head. “No, Chieftess. If that’s your advice, then I know I’m ready.”

  “Ready to relinquish your childhood name and receive a new one?” she asked. I had to hold back my frown. Annoyance went through me at this silly notion, of being renamed by people I didn’t know existed days ago. People who didn’t know Fentons ice cream, or clam chowder in a bread bowl, or chicken and waffles. Not that I ate any of that stuff anymore, but still, I didn’t need to belong to them; I just needed to find One and get back to Yerba City.

  I also couldn’t deny my curiosity. What name would they give me? And what would it mean? I’d gone by Seven the Hunter since replication. A number, really. Not a name.

  Gerel continued, “This village is a good village, but perhaps you should consider finishing your journey on your own. If you think the Chitakla isn’t for you, then heed your body’s notice. My advice is that you think long and hard before midnight. Search your dreams for answers,” she said, flicking her hand for me to go⁠—a clear dismissal. “And your nightmares.”

  I stared at her long and hard. “Thanks for your advice.”

  What was that about? I thought as I returned to the snow. Gerel’s words weren’t settling right with me, so I took my walk away from the women’s tents and toward a hill near their sector. It wasn’t isolated like the shaman’s hill had been, but it would put distance between me and the women of the village. Most of the folks seemed happy to have a Tsirku in their midst, but when it came down to accepting me, there were a lot of words of doubt that circled like the pack of wolves I’d tracked only so many days ago. Sure, I had this big ceremony to do, but was there another way? One that would get me out of this place without having to abide by all their rules and traditions? I trudged up the hill, peering at the sky. The stars glittered now as a blanket of darkness had settled over the village. Once high enough, I searched each angle I could find for the cicada and Thaddeus. But as with every survey since I’d crash-landed in Siberia, they were nowhere to be seen. No, it was just me out here, with the long sky and her moon and stars.

  At the highest ground, sparse trees were dressed in fresh snow. I placed my hands on my hips, determination running through me. I was Seven the Hunter. I was the best tracker in Saturnalia. If need be, I could find One without these people’s help or their damn ceremony. I should never have trusted that hologram man who’d led me here anyway. But still, my mind was blank and the sky was empty. The snow had only just stopped falling, and ice crystals lay frozen on the ground. I shrugged. I could always just leave and try to figure it out as I went.

  “What are you doing?” someone asked behind me. I turned, but not fast. The voice wasn’t unfamiliar or unwelcome. In fact, when Oktai found my side, something in me relaxed a bit.

  “You know what I was doing,” I said. “Trying to find a way out without doing the Chitakla.”

  He stilled. “But the shaman said you could go through with it. Why would you want to leave now?”

  “Just seems like a lot of hassle,” I said. He held my gaze, and I relented. “Your shaman and chieftess gave me a lot of crap tonight. Everyone saying I’m not ready. Maybe I’m not ready for adulthood and this new name, but what I do know is that I’m a good tracker. I can figure out my next steps without”⁠—I waved my hands around⁠—“all this.”

  He only smiled. “This isn’t about everyone else, or even the information you need from my people. You found your way to us for a reason, and likely because your spirit needs to go through the Chitakla. It wants to do this. To transform. That’s all that matters.”

  “I’ve already been through a transformation or two, buddy,” I quipped as he shook his head. I thought about not saying my next words, but they came out anyway. “Why is Chamuk on me so much about you?”

  This time he looked away. “She’s behaving this way because of how I am acting. I can say that. Because I’m here with you instead of in my tent thinking of what the elders have set for my life and hers. And this is the short time when maybe that could all change.” He sighed. “Until yesterday, her world was one way and so was mine. And now new possibilities are around. I blame me. Not her.”

  “Then why don’t you stop?” I asked.

  He stepped closer. “If you want me to go, I will go.”

  His words hung in the air. In the quiet now nestling between us. My eyes on his onyx gaze. Then I looked back toward the sky, the stars beside the moon. And, ironically, thought of those moments after my fight with Crystal Walker so long ago at camp. She had balled her fists and rushed me between makeshift activities. She hadn’t expected me to throw the perfect, tight-fisted punch Aunt Connie had taught me the night before. The pop in “pop her one good time.” Crystal, who was taller than me, also hadn’t expected her jaw to connect with that punch and go careening toward the ground.

  Kids are so extra during fights. They gathered around me, making a big fuss about what I’d done and Crystal’s defeat. But I wasn’t focused on them. All I could see was the unexpected events that unfolded next.

  As most of the kids jumped around me, one of them headed toward Crystal, who held her jaw and writhed on the ground. A tall but scrawny light-skinned boy. All gold all over. Garron took her hand and helped her up before anyone else noticed. She let him. She also let him lightly brush her knee, which had gotten scraped in the fall. She smoothed out her clothing. She whispered her thanks. He leaned down and said something that made her giggle in return. And then her hand was in his, and they walked together wherever they went after that.

  That was the last time I saw Crystal or Garron, as the church camp shut down soon after, and Yerba City finally came to collect us kids for transport to the Local Ones and Zeros.

  But I was on a hill with Oktai now. “I don’t want you to go,” I said, knitting my fingers together. These hands hadn’t hit Crystal. If my machine hands had done so, they might have knocked her head off. I uncurled my fingers. These hands were strong. But these hands were also soft. I looked back up to the sky.

  “You like the stars?” Oktai asked. “You’re always looking at them.” I was always looking for my ship, but I shrugged and smoothed my furs. I distantly realized he was still talking. “Do the Chitakla, Josephine. Get your name. You will be glad that you did.”

  “What do you think the name will be?” I asked. He smiled now and stretched out his hand as Garron had done for Crystal so long ago. Panic, and shock, and a hint of awkwardness, coursed through me. I was . . . a robot, after all. But I allowed his hand to find mine. I wondered if he could see or feel the biomachinery, that I wasn’t human. I wondered if I should tell him that although I wasn’t, I felt very human in this moment. This was what Crystal had wanted. And now, staring at the stars beside the moon, it was what I wanted, too.

  “I’m not sure what it will be,” he said. “But it will be fitting.”

  I nodded and leaned into him. I would do the Chitakla. And I would have my name.

  Chapter 10

  The Chitakla

  Chieftess Gerel’s attendants worked quickly. No one would dare say it, but I could tell the night was colder than normal, as their hands shook and their teeth chattered. I reminded myself to mimic them, one time giving it too much gusto. My elbow thrust out awkwardly into the nearest person . . . being Chamuk. She’d been holding the shaman’s paints and nearly dropped her bowl. No one could miss the way her eyes cut in my direction. Her fresh scowl. I smiled tightly back. Chamuk could at least try to be happy. She would be rid of me soon enough. The women didn’t give me a mirror once finished, and instead they ushered me into the whitest furs, careful not to mess up any of their painstaking work⁠—my hair braided back and three thick lines of red paint now streaking my face. With a quick breath, I was out of my tent and being led to the Great Hall.

  My Chitakla had drawn a crowd. Men and women in clusters spoke together until I entered the Great Hall; at my presence, they all quieted like the quick whoosh of a candle flame. They parted for Gerel’s attendants, who brought me to the front of the room. I made eye contact with everyone I could, just to show them I wasn’t afraid. In fact, I stuck my chin in the air and strode as quickly as I could. I had to get this done. One had to stay out of our enemy’s lab. The attendants left me at the front of the crowd and standing before a raised platform, waiting, I assumed, for the chiefs⁠—and possibly for an asteroid to hit. Time passed without either chief’s appearance, so my eyes danced around, seeking some sort of explanation. Only unfamiliar faces met my stare. I rolled my eyes. On with it. Someone’s probably dissecting my sister’s head in a lab somewhere.

  “You know, it’s fairly easy to read your face.”

  I smirked, knowing Oktai was at my side before I turned to him. “You’re probably not supposed to be standing here on my special day,” I said. “I’ll be a woman soon. And if they wanted me to look happier, they would hurry up.”

  He laughed and circled before me, standing between me and the dais. “Patience is a good thing,” he replied. “And I’m already a rule breaker, since you came. Might as well pile it on thick now.”

  I glanced toward a few men and women whispering at my company. “They’ll definitely have something to clutch their pearls about.”

  He nodded, though he probably didn’t know what I meant. Then his gaze swept over me, lingering on my fur-wrapped sleeves. “You look perfect,” he said. “Ready.” I appreciated the compliment but was unsure exactly how ready I could be. Sure, I wanted this over with, but what about the other stuff, everything that would make me an adult? And when I finished this silly ritual, would that change how much of me was a person and how much was a machine? Was this not just a Chitakla, but in its own way, another replication?

  But I didn’t have time to ponder that. “I am ready.”

  He nodded. “I was when I did mine. Don’t be so much like me.”

  Something seemed to fight with the happy appearance he wore. Something was pulling him down. “Joining my people is a wonderful thing. An expressive thing. We have a lot of words for what we cherish most, many ideas of love.” My brows flew up, but he kept going, avoiding eye contact and rushing through his speech. “I love every member of my village, as I’ve known them my whole life. Yes, some are more difficult than others, but that kind of love is what bonds us, keeps our community strong. But it had to change when I became a man. Everything down to the ways I could be with them was different.”

  “Like your cousin and the feet-wrapping thing?”

  He smiled. “That, yes. And how I would relate with others, like Chamuk. There became an expectation of something different between us. Something being forced to grow.” He raked his hand over his face. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this right now. Just, I wanted to say thank you.”

  “Thank you? For what?”

  Finally, his eyes met mine. “Because when you came along, I could just be myself . . . feel however I wanted to feel because you are who you are.” His smile widened. “And how I feel about you is something new.”

  Heat filled my cheeks. “You’re welcome,” I said, unsure of what else to share.

  He nodded and then looked toward the doorway, where some attendants had started gathering. “We should begin soon. When you’re all done, we’ll be there to greet you and hear your new name.” And then he winked, and that burn in my face grew. “You’re almost there.” With that, he nodded again and disappeared into the crowd.

  As soon as he’d gone, the doors swung open, revealing the chief and chieftess in their regalia. The guard who’d taken me to the shaman was at the head of their retinue, straighter-backed and more formal if that was at all possible. Unlike me, who’d walked fast, they took their time getting to the dais and situating themselves. If there had been a clock on the wall, I would have glanced at it. My hand found my chest⁠—a reminder to breathe. Finally, the shaman made her way beside Chieftess Gerel. Both wore completely impassive faces. My gaze focused on the again-humbled Gerel, who was completely different from the woman who’d sown doubt in my mind earlier that night. She may have been surprised that I was still here. I was pleased to not give her the satisfaction of seeing me quit.

  Chief Turgen spoke first, with a loud welcome that echoed throughout the chamber. “This is a great night, a sacred evening, one where the Tsirku Josephine Moore will begin her traditional Chitakla, the transition from youth to adulthood ushered by the spirits of our vast community.” His hooded, dark eyes fell on me, and again I stuck my chin in the air. I wasn’t a Tsirku. And I wasn’t just a Josephine. I was Seven. And I would show them that.

  “Josephine, our honored guest. These are the last moments of your childhood. When you complete your Chitakla, you will put childish things aside and take your place as an adult, as one of our people. Your transitioned self will be renamed, and all that is ours will be your birthright.”

  Or you could just tell me how to find those Yetti twins now. But I kept my mouth shut in that regard, only saying, “I’m ready,” as I had just declared to Oktai.

  “And so are we,” replied Chief Turgen, who turned to the shaman beside his wife. An unspoken communication passed between them, and the shaman stepped forward as the chief took a rickety step back.

  I held back my frown. She still had that slight air of crazy around her as her arms swept open wide. “The Chitakla is one of the holiest times in a person’s life, from the first breaths in your old life to your first breaths in your new. We are here to help you as the spirits guide your way. Some spirits will be kind. Others will be cruel. But no matter their disposition, they are here to see you through. They are here to teach you the lessons that will make you strong.” My ears perked up. Strong? Did she mean the strength that Dr. Yetti had promised?

  But she was already waving me forward. “Come with me,” she said.

  My feet moved even as my mind perched on her words, and soon we stood at the opening of a long passageway. The shaman had swung herself behind me, pointing a bony finger just over my shoulder, while the rest of the village remained in the Great Hall. “This part you do alone,” she said, “as when you come into this world and when you leave it. Go forward. The spirits will guide you.”

  She moved back into the shadows as I took a step forward. Alone was fine. My mother, my sister, my father, Zenobia, even that army of me building an Afro-Utopia back in Yerba City . . . somehow it seemed like I had become more and more alone as my life went on.

  The hall was tight and shrouded. My computer brain began calculating with each step. There was only the spray of darkness. Where were the ghosts? Just then, a lamp was lit at the far end of the narrow hall, revealing those who would escort me to adulthood. On each side of the hall were women in white masks, some small and dainty, others large and grotesque. Some of the women began wailing, something like a mourning cry. And others did what you shouldn’t do to a Josephine⁠—reach out and strike. It was a quick jab that I saw coming probably before that person wanted to send it. I had to remember to slow my reflexes to keep from grabbing that woman’s wrist and snapping it like a dry twig. They can’t hurt you. Just get to the end, I reminded myself. This was the hall of spirits escorting me. And if I made it through this space of annoyance, then I was a step closer to One, and a step closer to home.

  As I casually batted the last person’s hand away, a sense of oddness gripped me. Maybe it was my heightened Josephine senses. Maybe it was leftover intuition from the part of me that had been human. Whichever, it was the same weirdness I’d felt in the shaman’s tent, just before that sudden pull⁠—

  The floor dropped from beneath my feet, and I was free-falling, plummeting into new depths. After the sudden descent came an even faster slam into hard ground. I hit it with a thud. When I’d been in the passageway, I’d known that the Great Hall and entire community were only so many yards away, waiting for me to finish. In this new place, I instantly knew those people were not here, and that I was more alone than even the shaman had guaranteed. This room wasn’t a hallway, but a square chamber like a box, or a holding cell. I rubbed my head, more from shock than pain, then called out.

  “Hey!” My voice echoed back. Empty. This was definitely not part of some old-timey cosplay: the box was shiny stainless steel.

  I needed to get up. Not seem so weak. I was a Josephine after all, not some scared little girl. Someone had dropped me in this stupid little box, but I was made for this, and able to handle even this kind of dark. My eyes readjusted, allowing an effect like night vision to take hold. And when it did, it showed me something I hadn’t expected. No, I wasn’t alone. The room was full of machines, all in the same ghost masks the women had worn. All carrying weapons and spears⁠—as if they’d need them⁠—and all aimed at me. I bent my legs and balled my fists. Looks like a party. Then let’s dance.

 

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