2: Distrutto
The dorm was quiet. Night had fallen and most of the agents were retiring to their rooms to tie up the loose ends of the days work and get their well-deserved rest. The lights in the hall were turned off and Henrietta skipped back to her room veiled in darkness. A childish giggle escaped her and no amount of conditioning could suppress it.
She hugged the portrait to her chest as if it were her child and she danced down the corridors, singing a tune to herself, though in the relative silence of the dorms she could be heard clearly. Every now and then a door would open and a weary head would poke out to catch sight of the young girl skipping away, lost in her own joy. One such person was Amadeo, a cynical intelligence officer for Section 2. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. "A little ballerina huh?" He bowed his head and added, "A ballerina with a gun..."
Henrietta passed the open courtyard and smiled as she was bathed in the light reflected off the full moon. The stars only reminded her of Jose and she felt her cheeks burn. Thankfully no-one was around to see her blush and she was able to move on without embarrassing herself.
The short walk back to her room was a pleasant one and she continued to hum the song she had heard during Hillshire's last class. It had been composed by one of the great classical composers, but she could not recall it. All she could remember was the powerful joy she felt when she heard it. It paled in comparison the joy she felt around her handler but it was still delightful.
She approached the door to her room and took a deep breath. She pushed it open and leapt into the room. "Rico, you'll never guess what-" She stopped herself when she realised the room was bare. Rico was not there. She laughed at her own excitement and strolled over to the window. In the light she noticed the blood-stains still soaked into her uniform. She frowned and set the portrait down on Rico's bed for a moment while she got undressed.
The smell of blood was strong, but she was conditioned enough to ignore the odour as if it were as natural as that of flowers in bloom. She changed into something clean and folded up the bloodied uniform. She placed it on the nightstand and sat in Rico's bed, gazing longingly at the beautiful portrait. It was a marvellously realistic portrayal of them in Sicily, standing on the balcony of Jose's family house overlooking the seaside port far below. Jose had an arm draped over her shoulder and Henrietta blushed from the thought.
She sighed and sat back, leaning against the wall. She waited for Rico to come back, but the door never opened. It seemed Rico was away for something important and probably wouldn't be back until much later. Henrietta left the portrait there on the bed and took up her laundry. Since she had nothing else to do she decided to get it sorted now, besides, tomorrow would be a busy day and she would probably forget. She ducked out and headed to the laundry room.
The halls were even quieter now. None of the lights were on and most of the agents and cyborgs were asleep. Henrietta tread carefully this time. She found Triela in the laundry room, sorting through a load which had come out of the dryer. She looked up to Henrietta as the younger cyborg entered and smiled.
"Oh, hello Henrietta. I didn't think anyone else was awake at this hour."
Henrietta looked off into space and sighed. "I couldn't sleep. All I can think about is Jose."
Triela cocked her head. "You two seem pretty close."
Henrietta nodded. "He's so wonderful to me. He got a portrait painted of us while we were in Sicily. It looks amazing. I'll show it to you tomorrow."
"Sure," Triela yawned, "But right now I'm exhausted. I've been working non-stop since I was released from the hospital."
Henrietta waved to her as she wandered out of the room. "Good night Triela."
"You too." She murmured.
The delighted young girl put her clothes in the bland white machine and left it to its own devices for she too was feeling the weariness of a long day finally getting to her. She strolled back to her room and found the lights on, she could even hear a voice coming from inside.
Oh, Rico's back. I must show her the painting.
Moment's earlier Rico emerged from Jean's office. He had been drilling her about the importance of the coming mission and taking the time to teach her everything she would need to know about the Col Moschin, Padania and even some tips to help her shooting. The lesson had dragged on for a while but boredom seldom set in, especially with a girl like Rico. Every second of every day was like a blessing to her. Just the ability to sit upright in a chair was a wondrous miracle.
But still, her body was growing listless and she knew it was about time to rest. Even machines need to power off once in a while. She expected Henrietta to be sitting up waiting for her but the room was vacant when she entered. The lights were off but she didn't care. She didn't need them on if she was going to sleep.
Rico kicked off her shoes and collapsed down onto her bed. Her eyes narrowed when she heard a distinctive 'crash' within the room. She tried to roll off the bed and into a crouch but a wave of blinding pain ran through her for a fraction of a second and her concentration faltered. Even if it was only for the blink of an eye, she could still feel pain.
She scanned the room nervously and then turned back to her bed which seemed darker for some reason. She switched on the light and then she saw it.
Blood was soaking into the sheets and amidst the red patch was broken glass. Rico frowned in confusion and approached it. She lifted up the sheet and found a broken wooden frame and inside that a torn canvas. She turned it over and stared into Henrietta's smiling face.
"Henrietta?" Rico studied the painting and noticed a small message behind a cracked piece of frame. Scrawled in black pen someone had written: 'Dear Henrietta, thanks for being such a good little sister.' Written after that was the name of her handler, Jose.
Rico placed a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Uh oh."
"Rico?" The door opened and Henrietta poked her head in and smiled. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to show you something."
Rico looked around, for once feeling pain but only due to anxiety. "Oh really...What is it?"
"Jose gave me a present tonight! You would like it as well. It's a painting," Henrietta explained innocently.
Rico stood in front of the mangled mess that had become of the portrait in question. "Ah, well...That was nice of him but...Uh...I'm tired. Can I see it tomorrow?" The lies hurt her as well. She would never have thought that something other than bullets could make her feel any slight semblance of pain. She put her hands behind her back and carried the portrait to her pillow. She placed it underneath and then stepped away casually.
"Don't worry, it will only take a second," Henrietta crossed the room and gently shoved her room-mate aside. "I'm pretty sure I left it on your bed," She mumbled as she ducked down to search. Her entire body tensed up at the sight of blood and she traced her eyes along the mattress to the fractured piece of timber jutting out from under the pillow.
The sound that escaped her was terribly human. It was a cry of absolute sadness, as if her heart had been shattered into a million pieces. The tortured squeal rang out across the dorm and the sound of pounding footsteps swept in from outside. In the very same instant tears flowed in graceful waterfalls down her soft features. Henrietta dragged the painting out from under the pillow and stared at it. The canvas had been torn so that now there was a rift between her and Jose. A shard of glass had pierced her painted chest and it very much felt the same in reality.
A flood of alert agents entered the room, some with guns drawn. Even the other cyborgs appeared on full alert. Henrietta took no notice of them. She looked up from the portrait to the remorseful young girl beside her.
"You...The painting...Jose...I..." Words failed her and for a moment she just sniffed loudly. Then, she snapped. Henrietta grabbed Rico by the throat and shoved her to the floor. Tears still flowed from her eyes but her teeth were clenched in a furious scowl. "How could you? Why? Why?"
Rico gagged and tried to wheeze out a feeble apology but the words came out as strangled coughs and nothing more.
The other cyborgs swooped down upon the two girls and Henrietta was dragged away from her and restrained while Rico was assisted as she clambered to her feet. Both girls were sobbing and neither could remain standing. Almost in unison they fell back down to the floor where they curled up into balls and wept like the little girls that they were.
Triela helped Rico up again and led her out of the room. "Come on, why don't you spend the night in my room. Henrietta needs to cool down." She glanced back to the weeping mess on the floor. Just moment's ago she had been so happy, so full of life and now she was like this...What could have set her off like that?
Jean stepped aside to let them go and then turned to several waiting agents. "Go find Jose. Bring him here immediately. Get Henrietta a glass of water. Go!" The agents rushed off leaving Jean alone with the cyborg. He never understood why Jose treated her as a human girl. She was nothing but a machine, a machine that needed to be fixed.
"Why?" Henrietta wailed.
Jean ignored it and peered out into the hall. His brother was running up the hall ahead of his escorts. He almost tripped as he raced up towards the tiny room. He caught himself in the doorway and panted heavily. "What happened?" He wheezed.
Jean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "We don't know. We heard screams and found Rico on the floor with Henrietta's hands around her throat. It seems you perfect little girl has some problems Jose. I advise that you have them fixed before we set out. I'll leave the rest to you." Jean strolled off and waved to the agents waiting for orders. "Dismissed." He groaned, just before uttering a yawn.
When they were gone Jose closed the door and approached the girl. He found the portrait strewn across the floor in pieces and something clicked in his mind. He remembered the kaleidoscope incident...
"Henrietta, would you care to tell me what happened?" He asked as calmly as he could. Henrietta's eyes lit up for a moment but in the end she shook her head and averted her gaze. Jose rolled his eyes and sat down next to her, rubbing the back of her head gently. "Are you sure?" He was met with another shake of the head and he sighed. "Is it about the portrait?" He knew the answer already, but it still had to be asked.
Henrietta hesitated to respond and bowed her head after a moment's contemplation. "Are you mad at me?" There was genuine sadness in her voice and it tore him apart to hear such things. Jose leaned against her and cradled her like a child, like he had with his sister before he joined the military police.
"No, I am not mad...I'm worried." Jose glanced down at her and smiled. "I'm here to help you. If you don't tell me what is wrong, I cannot help."
Henrietta hugged him, her hands gripping him tight, afraid of letting him go. Jose patted her back and whispered in her ear, "Will you tell me what happened?"
She responded almost instantly. "Rico...She...She broke it..." She sobbed, pausing to wipe her eyes and sniff halfway through.
"Was it an accident?"
"I...Don't know..."
Jose chuckled softly. "Well I don't think Rico would damage something so precious to you on purpose. I bet it was just an accident."
"But-"
"We have a big mission in a few days. Now isn't the time to be getting upset over such silly things."
"But the painting..."
Jose ruffled her hair. "A painting can be replaced. It is your friends that are most important. You should be nicer to Rico; she is your friend isn't she?"
Henrietta said nothing. Jose decided to let it slide and made to leave, but he felt something dagging him back. He looked down upon Henrietta whose eyes were glistening like stars. Tears still rolled down her cheeks and her body was trembling. She held his sleeve with a grip no man could break.
"Please? Don't go." The urgency in her voice was heart-breaking. Even if he had tried, it would have been impossible to deny the poor girl such a simple wish. He sat down beside her and immediately she hugged him close.
"Henrietta..." He was going to ask her to go to bed, but she was already asleep, her head nestled snugly against his chest. Jose smiled and pulled a blanket around himself and the poor girl in his arms. He sat there for some time, just watching her shoulders sag slowly with each breath, her sweet expression of angelic serenity. He felt her heartbeat...Yes, a heartbeat. No matter how many microchips and machinery they place inside of her she would always be a little girl...
That weak little heartbeat...Something so simple, yet a reminder of humanity...Machines don't have hearts, they don't feel. Their thoughts are controlled by their programming, not emotion. As remarkable as she was with her expert marksmanship, her resistance to physical pain and her unwavering loyalty to the people who shortened her life...Throughout it all Henrietta was still just a little girl...A normal girl.
