Chapter 13

Since telling him who I had been the last four years, Marcele had only managed to sputter with disbelief. The only life he had known was wealth and prosperity. The gravity of life began to sink in, it seemed. It was if the life I had experienced was unimaginable.
Marcele filled me in on the last three days. Since blacking out, he had hidden me away in a bedroom while his housemaid, Cassandra, opened the door to the remaining Elysian police. With most of them having taken off after the Raven for whatever reason, the tension was decreased drastically. Two Armadyne bots, Marcele had explained, questioned Casandra at the door about a missing person and why the mercenaries had come to Marcele's house. With ease, she derailed their suspicions, ranting on about how they ought to be searching the CCB building and the area around that, not the suburbs, disturbing the sleep of many.
Though she detested me and my crashing here, she liked me enough to turn away the government. That was the last kind thing she did for me, Marcele explained. "She didn't even fluff your pillows when I asked her to!" he joked.
I could have easily been handed over to the police, then all their problems would be solved. Why I was still here, I couldn't imagine. I know if my current self had come through my doorway years ago, I would have the police on speed dial.
Funny how things change.
"What are you thinking about?"
Marcele interrupted my thoughts. It took a moment to realize where I was. I was in a wheelchair, in a pristine looking waiting room. Expensive looking holograms hung on the walls around me, all displaying important pieces of art from the dawn of modem art, which was nearly a century old now. Picassos with overturned faces mocked the institution I found myself sitting in.
"Just thinking about what my new face will look like..."
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Marcele noted gravely. "I'm serious. You don't have to do this."
I looked up at him seriously, a grim line pressed onto my lips. "New citizenship, new ID... right? Makes sense to me..."
I bore down into my lap, eyes fixed on the space just before my feet. I could feel the wheelchair being pushed forward, but I couldn't comprehend what was happening around me. Voices sounded garbled in my ears.
I buried myself in the last few scraps of decent memories I had left, focusing on only the bittersweet. There was no good memory without sadness or fear, so even bittersweet was like a fine nectar.
Images of the past flickered across my vision. The day of my brother's birthday, just before I was captured and deported, flooded my memory with soft, warm sunlight. I closed my eyes, and imagined my old backyard. It was a beautiful deciduous area of Elysium, with simulated mountains on the horizon. Northern lights shone above at night, I remembered that. I could almost feel the sunlight glowing warm against my skin. Sunlight, shade, and breeze. The soft breathing of sleep. I remember looking up at a moment like that, and seeing him laying there with me, a protective arm draped around my shoulders. The warmth of that moment was bliss. Remembering it now made it all the sweeter. When he looked down at me, my heart fluttered.

And that was the bitter part.
I snapped out of my delirium with a start. Marcele was looking at me as if waiting for a response. His eyebrows were raised expectantly, as if he were asking a question, as we're the doctor's, who was now standing beside him.
"Hmm?" prompted the doctor.
"What...?" I mumbled absentmindedly.
"I said, will you please describe to me what you want your new identity to look like. You must have given this some thought."
.I looked blankly at him. "No. Not really," I said simply. I was under a haze. Everything felt numb, especially reality.
"Well, as you know," he looked to Marcele for a moment before turning back to me, "the only reason I agreed to this operation was because I owe monsieur Leopold a favour." Marcele nodded, smiling like there was an inside joke going on between old friends. "Regardless of the illegality of this scenario..." He scratched his neck, which was littered with raised, inkless tattoos of old English words. The word 'perfect' scrawled in old cursive wrapped around the majority of his neck. I couldn't help but turn up a lip at the irony of what he was about to do to me. A plastic surgeon would be paid to take away my face, my memory and my past. Now I would have my memory erased, taken away, just like my physical identity.
I had believed sincerely that Kruger would have been my end. As it turns out, fate was merciful. Perhaps it was fate that had torn him from me, or perhaps it was blind luck. I was free, but nonetheless, I still felt chained to the ground like an animal. Part of me wanted to forget, part of me wished it had never happened. But deep down, I knew there was a feeling that would have otherwise revolted me; affection. In the remotest sense. But even when I tried to convince myself the feeling was as far from legitimate as it could get, I always found myself reveling in its unlawful feeling.

Maybe I was just attracted to danger, especially when it had pale green eyes and a manic tendency towards violence.

How fucked up…
"Protea? You okay?"
Snapping out of 'unlawful' feelings, I glanced up at Marcele from my wheelchair. He looked very concerned. His handsome face was crinkled with uncertainty. He didn't want me to go through with this, this face change, but there was no way I could ever go back to the way things were.

Protea Angelico was a fugitive, an outlaw. If she didn't die, I surely would, whoever I was at the time. Delacourt would have me on a platter. Kruger couldn't save me from her wrath the next time she saw me, no, I would not survive Delacourt a second time.
"There's no other choice..." I murmured solemnly. "Otherwise, I die. This is the only way, aside from the former. This is the only way I can stay hidden from her."

And from him, I added silently.
"As long as you're sure about this…"

"I am, Marcele," I nodded solemnly. I motioned for him to lean in further. "I can't thank you enough for your help. I don't even know what to say."

"Just survive."

"Okay..." The doctor seemed to be antsy and impatient. He motioned for Marcele to wheel me further into his office. "Now please, don't be scared."
I'm fucking terrified, you moron I spat at him, shooting daggers through my eyes. This is not who I am. You're changing me.
Once again, I had to restrain my disdain for Elysians.

I did like Marcele. He was different. It was if he were a different breed than the rest altogether. He had a modesty about him, without the weight of arrogance, not like a true born Elysian. Not like me.
For a while, I had forgotten my heritage. I was an heiress, technically, though I never told anyone that. I would have been dead as soon as I was flung upon the streets of Los Angeles three years ago. I was an heiress to my parent's fortune. Since my mother was still alive and well, and would have been for some time, I had no worries about inheriting my family's fortune and having to decide what to do with it. With my father having supposedly died when I was young, I was taught the value of life from a young age. I was taught how to save and spend effectively, so that my output into the community came back to me. Of course, no six year old girl wants to learn how to complete a spreadsheet of taxes, but I was thankful for my mother's uptight methods eventually. She was part of the reason I started my mission so long ago, a mission I had no hope of fulfilling now…

"We're ready to begin the process," the doctor announced rather quietly. I hated the way he looked down his nose at me. Though I was physically below his level, the way he looked at me made me feel as though I were a rat picking through garbage. "Please select your new facial features while I prepare your new citizenship."

He walked away, leaving me and Marcele alone next to the twelfth generation Hyper-Bay. Elysium could truly do anything, it seemed.

The machine that would change me and heal me at once was incredible, I had to admit. It was huge, nearly twice the size of a standard issue Medbay. White, sterile looking glass panes lined the side of the monstrous machine. Lovely golden vines were imprinted in the glass, spreading out along its length and glowing as if they were alive. The healing arm was gold, like the vines, and had pearlescent designs like the rest of the machine. A large, touch-screen control panel was presented on the side of the elliptical bay. On the screen currently, were faces of beautiful women around my age.

The images did not look real; they were fake. Phony faces contrived by a machine that had a generated code of beauty. None of these women actually existed. They were all images, raw computer data, and I would soon take one of them, pluck their pre-conceived images from the database and make it a reality.

My ethical and moral center was on fire, blaring alarms about how disgusting this was, how ridiculous this whole process is. But regardless of the voices in my head, the tech-savvy, Elysian genius in me was absolutely amazed.

"Wow," I mumbled, scrolling through the thousands of unique faces. Each one had a code, an unused citizenship. Was this how the government chose its citizens? Were all Elysians once computer generated images?

These questions made my stomach churn with anxiety but also with anticipation. I found myself excited, however repugnant that sounded.

"That's a lot of options…" Marcele mumbled, looking over my shoulder as I scrolled.

"How do I pick? I mean, what if I don't like the one I pick?"

"You can get it changed again," Marcele informed, almost proudly. "Those are the perks of knowing me," he punctuated with a wink.

Damn, he's incredible, I thought dreamily, all feelings of anxiety forgotten in his silky brown eyes.

Since I first met him, I had felt safe with Marcele. Though he was still a stranger to me, I felt as though I could trust him to keep my identity a secret. Because there was no space on Earth for me, and even less on Elysium, I thought bitterly, I could not go back. I was not yet ready to die, and I could still do more from Elysium than I ever could from Earth. With the options weighing in favor of staying on my original home, I decided to make what time I had worthwhile. I just had to bide.

"So what are you gonna pick then?" Marcele prompted. "Blonde. Brunette… Ginger…?" I saw him grin like an idiot, adorably.

"What is it about gingers, honestly?" I wondered with a smirk.

"I don't know," he murmured innocently, "they're more mysterious?"

"Ah ha, yeah… I'm sure…"

I continued to scroll through the faces. Since I already had long, dark hair, I decided I would have it short and light. Not too much like Delabitch, I thought with a scowl, trying to contain my buzz of emotions.

Yes, short, light brown hair was the way to go. A softer jawline, too, for mine was sharp, square and almost to a point; very recognizable. My eyes should change too, but there was something about them that I adored. As narcissistic as that sounded, I still wanted to retain a part of me. With everything that would soon change, I wanted a small reminder of my past, even if I did not remember it.

I scrolled through the faces, filtering down by features. I finally found a suitable one, one I liked, with a satisfied groan from Marcele. "Even shopping for a face, women take forever!"

The doctor came back in at that moment, holding a silver keycard. He waited until we were both sizzling with anticipation. He dipped his head before cheerfully asking, "Have we made a decision?"

Marcele and I looked at each other. All of a sudden, I got a rush of terror. I wasn't ready to have everything I was taken away from me.

But then again, there was more that I'd like to forget than I'd like to remember.

I was loaded carefully into the Hyper-Bay with the help of two strapping young nurses. They positioned my broken body onto the wide cushioned bed. The polished fabric squeaked when I dragged my fingers along it. As I was reveling in my amazement, Marcele clasped my hand in his. My fingers found their way as I entwined them in his.

It was more of a natural reaction to the numbness I had been feelings as of late. The obscurity and the potency of fear and regret had come clashing together to create a vast expanse of grey. I had seen no colour for the past few days. The last colour I potently remember was pale green…

"You ready?"

Inhale. Exhale.

"Yes."