Allaying Alideya (1)

If they come for you, you're dead.

Dad used to bury that warning into our heads, let it rot and stagnate until we knew with every bit of us that we should be scared of the Fosters. And I was terrified. Cal would attempt to make dad stop mid-story and it'd always end in laughter. They didn't think I would catch them, but I saw the wary glances and the look in their eyes after the smiles had faded. The Fosters would come for me on my thirteenth birthday and there wasn't anything they could do to stop it.

Four years' work in the Factory, mandatory once you hit thirteen, something about preparing us for our future. Some of us learned that lesson with swollen cheeks and hardened hearts. The rest of us barely made it out limping, or if by some miracle you were favored, dead.

---

I still remember Mr. Brelnin's sickly yellow eyes when we were 'inaugurated' into the ranks of the Factory. It took me all of one week before I found myself swallowed whole by those eyes. "Bubbles" was the unfortunate nickname he earned because he'd perpetually carry a bubble wand in his pocket. No one knew much about the half bent object, except we'd seen him take it out of his pocket and stare at it whenever there was a lull in work.

I had just happened to be performing my best imitation of him, strolling about a meadow and blowing bubbles, when he walked past my station.

"So what is your name?"

He clicked his tongue softly before smiling as he sat in the chair next to me. I scowled at him, wrinkling my nose up as he leaned in closer.

"Alideya."

"And are you a trouble maker, Alideya?"

"No, sir."

"Oh, but you are. We'll be keeping an eye on you, my little flower."

---

Work builds character and strength. Strength fosters unity. Unity brings peace.

Working in the Factory didn't make you strong, it made you weak. It made you complacent and paranoid of the Fosters and of everyone around you. You learned how to listen in on others, the best ways to make enemies, and that you were never, ever safe. Not from them. Not from them. You would learn you were all alone because you only got to go back home once every three months. You had a week and it wasn't enough for most of us to restore our faith in family. In the end all you had was your Foster family and you could never trust them.

There was no unity and I knew it. Cal made it out and taught me that, told me everything I needed to do, how to keep my head down, where the best places to hide were, and how to make it out and still be his little Addie. Most importantly though, he taught me how to fight back. I can't say I used it to keep myself unnoticed though.

I'd been in trouble with Mr. Brelnin dozens of times and I secretly kept count, 82 and a half. Half because one of the other Fosters nearly fell head-first into a vat and I managed to slink away in the commotion. Two months before I was set to be released from the Factory I managed to get into my own little "accident". A fight between me and Jayni, one of the stupidest girls I had the pleasure of knowing in my time at the Factory, that landed my arm inside one of the ever-turning gears.

A cybernetic arm sounds amazing when they tell you about it, when you see, when you test it, and when you get to keep it. What made it terrible was the tracking chip inside the metal interior, the one they'd replaced, free of charge as stated in their liability policy. They may have been the ones who had given me back an arm, but they were also part of the reason I lost it.

Now they could always find me.