What Is Love?

One thousand thirty-three, one thousand thirty-four, one thousand thirty –

The conversation outside of her sterile room interrupted Nyla’s counting.

If they don’t want to be overheard, they should speak softer.

She paused and listened to the voices. Even without her heightened hearing she would have been able to understand their heated debate.

“She’s still too ill to be taken away, General,” a woman pleaded. Nyla recognized the strained voice as Dr. Bunder, the physician who had been attending to her.

“Have her wounds healed?” a man asked. His gruff, low voice held its own authority, which led Nyla to believe that the man was a high ranking official of some kind. He had to be with that kind of self-assurance.

Nyla lifted her heavily bandaged hands to her face. The hospital had continued to wrap them even after the skin stitched back together had healed. She thought it was unnecessary, but the staff was uncomfortable looking at her mangled fingers. So they stayed on - it wasn’t in Nyla’s nature to disobey.

“Well, yes. Her hands are technically healed. But she’s not ready to leave yet, General.”

A General, Nyla mused. What did a General want with her? She’d never dealt with anyone superior to the Major.

“Then there is no reason to keep her here. This is a hospital.” With his last word, the door to the room swung open. A thin, reedy man stood in the doorway. He was easily recognizable as a three-star General by his uniform. Nyla rolled out of bed and stood at attention before her superior.

“Sir.”

“At ease, soldier,” the General said while gesturing towards the bed. “Please, take a seat.”

Nyla perched on the edge with her back erect. It was a relief seeing the military colors again; they were a reprieve in the sterile white of her room.

They’re finally here to collect me.

The General addressed her right shoulder, avoiding her stoic doll face. Among soldiers who felt uncomfortable with Menhits due to their expressionlessness, it was common to look over a Menhit’s shoulder. Such behavior didn’t surprise her.

“It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that the war has ended, and you are being decommissioned.”

            “I’m being what?” Nyla asked, his words not processing. Menhits spent their entire life in the military. Decommission wasn’t an option.

            “Decommissioned. You have been a valuable asset to the military, and we thank you, but you are no longer needed.”

His words crashed down on Nyla, each one a mighty blow. She was dizzy with shock by the end of his sentence. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand. I am a tool for the Major.”

            “And you did your job well.” His words did not assure her. “But we no longer need you. There’s no need for us to keep you.”

            Nyla sat still, trying to process what the General was saying. “Then what am I supposed to do instead? I have been a tool for the Major for as long as I can remember.” The Major was all she knew.

            The General finally met Nyla’s eyes. “We have selected a host family for you. You are, technically, still a minor. They will keep you until you turn eighteen, upon which you will be given a stipend and be free to go where you please as long as you keep the government informed of your location and stay out of trouble.”

            Nonplussed, Nyla asked, “But who will give me commands? Will this host family be giving me civilian directions? Will the Major be giving me directions over a holopad?” The Major wouldn’t just leave her; he was her handler. He was the person who controlled every aspect of her life.

            The General cleared his throat before saying, “About that. The Major will no longer be giving you commands.”

            “But I was assigned to him,” Nyla insisted. “I am his tool for success.”

            Staring at her, the General’s mouth pulled down at the edges. “I don’t know how to say this because we all know that your kind doesn’t feel. I suppose that makes this easier.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “The Major died in the last battle, the one you were injured in.”

            The air left Nyla’s lungs as she processed the information that was just given to her. “How can that be? I pulled him to safety and I treated his wounds as best as I could. Statistically, he should have been fine. I did everything I was supposed to do, he couldn’t have died General. I did not fail in my orders. I –”

            The General cut her off. “Calm down, Solider. No one is accusing you of not doing your duty. We found you gravely injured. You could have done nothing more. He’s dead.”

            Nyla stared at the aged man before her, noticing for the first time the gray hair on the top of his head. This man was much older than the Major. An unidentifiable pang tore through her chest; it felt hollow and empty. “Then it is right I am being discarded. I failed in my mission.”

            Looking away from her towards the single window, he said, “You are not being discarded. You are a child and will be going to school with your peers.”

            Nyla shook her head at the General’s evident confusion. “Under Code 454B – 24, I am not a child, General. I am just a Menhit regardless of my age.”

            The General started pacing the small space. Nyla tracked his movements automatically. “The law has changed, and you’ve been reclassified. You are now considered the same as a regular child and must attend school.”

            None of this made any sense to Nyla. “Why the change, General? I’m not the same as a schoolchild; I am a weapon.”

            Slowly emphasizing each word, he said, “You were. Now you are not.”

            “But my physical abilities are far beyond a regular human’s,” Nyla pointed out. Many things set the Menhits apart from others, but their super speed and strength were the most prominent.

            “They won't be for long.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to Nyla. She opened it and found a thin gold band nestled in its fold. “Put it on. You are forbidden from removing it; that’s an order.” In her peripheral vision, she saw the General’s eyes widen as she removed her bandages to expose her crooked fingers that were wrapped in thick scar tissue. The ring had to twist and turn over her flesh before it settled on her bent ring finger.

            “What does it do?” she asked. Without warning, she felt her senses dull. Everything was muted as if she was plunged underwater. She had the urge to shake her head to dispel it. Nyla wasn’t sure how she felt about the overall sensation, or lack thereof, except that it was vaguely unpleasant.

            The General cleared his throat. “It has two purposes: it tracks your location so we can monitor you at all times, and it lowers your body’s natural superiority so that your abilities are much closer to a human being’s.” He glanced at his holowatch before adding, “Your host family will be picking you up in a few minutes. You will start school tomorrow.”

            School? I’m going to a civilian school?

            “But I am barred from organized education as a Menhit. We aren’t allowed in schools.” Menhits couldn’t enter any place civilians gathered. They were weapons and stayed with their handlers. The longest she had ever been away from the Major was this stay in the hospital.