"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone."

—Orson Wells

Part One

malfunction

|malˈfə ng k sh ən|

verb [ intrans. ]

fail to function normally or satisfactorily

I open my eyes, but the only thing I can see is brightness. At first I think, Well, I guess I'm dead, but then I hear voices and realize that I am not so lucky.

"She was harder than most," a man's voice reports. "Had a strong sense of self, that one."

"Ah well," another says, "the damage is no longer there." I feel something cold prick against my index finger, and the pain tingles throughout my entire body. "Her memory is completely destroyed—that's all that matters now."

I shift a little in my spot, but something is binding my wrists and ankles. There's also something hard pressing against my backside. I must be attached to a table of some sort. A whimper of exasperation escapes my lips.

"She's stirring!" the first man announces, shocked. The other man bellows out a large swear word before turning off the light above me.

Without the light's blinding brightness, I can see who these men are. One is burly and has a great set of yellowed teeth. The other looks more like some benevolent man who is about to start handing out treats.

"Hello there," the nice looking man says brightly. The yellow-toothed man grunts, barely looking at me, and grabs a clipboard and snatches a pen from his front pocket.

"What's her eye color, Gellert?" he says to the nice man.

"Blue."

"Height?"

"Five-two."

"Weight?"

"114."

Gellert seems to be reading all of these answers off of a flashing screen to his left. He notices me looking and grabs it, a nearly translucent screen hovering in the air. He holds it above my face and I can barely make out the bright neon charts and letters scribed amongst it.

"Close your eyes, friend," he says. "This may hurt."

Without thinking, I obey.

Underneath my eyelids I can see a flash brighter than the light before me.

"Sulcri recorded."

I open my eyes and watch Gellert toss the screen behind his shoulder.

"Did you get that, Writ?" Gellert says, looking at the unhappy man.

Writ, who is examining a screen very much like the one Gellert had just held above me, replies with a thumbs up sign.

"Where shall she be located?" Gellert asks. He is holding his own translucent screen up very close to his nose.

Writ scratches some more on the clipboard. "Station X, I believe."

Gellert tsks and smiles at me sympathetically. "Toughie, that is." He shrugs and clamps his hand to my forehead. "Body temperature of 98.6 degrees, regular blood circulation, and there seems to be no amount of abnormal brain impairments."

"So in other words," Writ says, lowering the clipboard so we can both see his beady black eyes, "she's a completely normal—ah—seventeen-year-old girl, eh?"

Gellert nods. "Indeed."

"Chip in place?"

"Of course!" Gellert seems slightly offended. "How long have we been at this, Writ?"

"Arg," Writ says. "Well, Gell, all she needs now is her IDN and the Attire and she can go ahead and be dispatched. The rest of the pack that she came in has already been processed. Separately, of course."

Gellert nods and rolls his chair close to my face. He examines me closely, his happy green eyes searching my own. "What's her name, this one?" he asks, almost as if it is plainly out of interest.

Writ flips over a sheet of paper and peers right at the top.

"Her name…ah, here it is. Caspa."

Gellert touches my forehead with his index finger. "Welcome to Astro City, Caspa."