Josh Roseman - The Clockwork Russian and Other Stories

My hand went to my mouth and I distinctly heard myself gasp. Jenn One had been on greeter duty for the week, even though no one new had arrived for four standard months. Now Jenn One had a black eye, nearly swollen shut, and was bleeding from her mouth. Jenn Two had her in a choke hold, and when she saw the three of us, she tightened her arm. “What the hell is this?” she screamed. “Where am I?”

I was frozen. Powerless. I hadn’t seen violence like this since…

…oh. Of course. Since Jenn One. But Jennie One had knocked her on her ass with one good roundhouse kick — most of the Jennies were athletic, and Jennie One in particular; she ran the exercise classes we all forced ourselves to attend. When Jenn One had come to in the medical center — restrained at first — we’d made her see reason.

But that had been years ago. Jenn One had calmed down, channeled her anger, and was the source of most of the new artwork in the house I shared with Two. I hoped that Jenn Two would someday find a healthy outlet.

First, though, we had to keep her from hurting Jenn One anymore.

“Jenn,” Two said, stepping forward, “please. Let her go.”

“No!” As Two got closer, Jenn Two backed up until her shoulders were against the port itself. I could see Jenn One’s face getting redder, but she trusted us. She trusted us to save her.

“Jenn, please,” Two repeated. “You’re hurting her!”

“Who is she?” Jenn Two’s eyes darted around, and when she saw the rest of the Jennies moving to flank her position, she yanked Jenn One’s arm up and behind her back. Jenn One couldn’t stop the cry of pain.

“Put her down, Jenn,” Two said. “Put her down and we’ll talk. We’ll explain everything, I promise, but stop hurting her.”

“Explain now!” Jenn Two twisted and Jenn One howled.

And that was that. The Jennies moved in and, although I saw Jenn One’s face go white as Jenn Two dislocated her shoulder, that was the worst of it. Jennie Six pressed an injector to Jenn Two’s neck and she went limp.

Jennie Four and Jennie Seven carried the mercifully-unconscious body of Jenn One to the medical center, and Jennifer Nine set her shoulder and fixed her eye. Jennifer Four restrained Jenn Two, but Jennie Two and Four remained on either side of the newcomer’s bed.

I nodded — as the first and oldest, I was the unspoken leader, though we didn’t need much leading, when it came right down to it — and Jennifer Four brought Jenn Two around.

When Jenn Two saw all of us glaring down at her, she stopped struggling. It was Jennie One who did the talking.

And Jenn Two, just like with her predecessor, listened.

Jennifer Sixteen

We learned from Jenn Two. Seven more Jenns showed up over the next year, along with four Jennifers and an eighth Jennie. Four Jennies were always called in when someone new arrived, and although Two nearly got her leg broken when Jenn Five came to the island, for the most part things were uneventful.

What worried Two and the other Ones was the frequency they were arriving. Michael seemed to be more and more touchy; Jennifer Sixteen was in tears as she sat on my couch, Two’s arm around her. “It was horrible!” she said, wiping her eyes with a piece of tissue. “Ever since we arrived, Michael’s been on edge. It’s like his experiments are all going wrong and he can’t figure it out and he t-takes it… he…”

She broke down and Two cradled her in her arms. Jennie inclined her head toward the kitchen doorway; Two nodded, and the other two Ones and I left the living room. I told the computer to close the kitchen door; I don’t think Jennifer Sixteen noticed.

“It’s getting worse,” Jennie said. She was the decision maker among the four of us these days. “Remember what Jenn Eight told us.”

I nodded, more to myself than to the others. Michael had backhanded her in a fit of frustration; she’d hit him back, and that had been the end of her. That had been three weeks ago, and Jennifer Three was still counseling her, trying to convince her that it wasn’t her fault.

“So what do we do?” asked Jenn.

“We can’t leave,” Jennie said. “We’ve tried. All of us — the Jennies — and I know both of you have had your people try too.”

“What about the port?” I asked. “Can we break through?”

“To what?” Jennie asked, almost snarling, though she shook her head and murmured an apology a second later. I could see this was bothering her more than any of us. “There’s nothing out there but argon air and acid seas. We’re only here because Michael thinks he can remake this hellhole into something more people can live on.”

“It’s been almost ten years. There’s thirty-three of us now.” Jenn drummed her fingers on my kitchen island; I noticed that she was painting her nails pale-pink again, and letting them grow long enough to click on the decorative blue-and-white tiles. “We create.” She obviously meant herself and the other Jenns. “Maybe we can create something to get us back to Michael.”

“But to where, exactly?” I hated being the devil’s advocate, but someone had to be, and Jennie had that gleam in her eye that said she was about to start organizing things. “It’s a huge planet. This was the only settlement. We can cross the sea, find another landmass, but what would be the point? We know Michael’s still in orbit.” His work was done from a geosynchronous satellite, and each time a new arrival showed up, she confirmed that he was still up there. “Can you build a liftship?” I asked, and Jenn shook her head.

“We can’t just sit here and let him keep making more of us!” Jennie’s fingers were on the edge of the island, gripping tightly, the skin almost white at the tips. “We have to do something!”

The kitchen door opened. Two stood behind Jennifer Sixteen, whose eyes were swollen and red, nose still running a bit. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice hoarse and thick. “I think.”

I was closest. I opened my arms and let Jennifer Sixteen hug me. I kissed her forehead and smiled. “Welcome to the island.”

She smiled back, ever so slightly. It was enough, for now.

Jennie Ten

Another twelve showed up in what was, I realized one day, my thirtieth year of exile. They all came within days — a week at the outside between each — until forty-five of us populated the small island settlement. There was plenty of room, enough houses for each of us to have our own, even though the Jennies had commandeered one large home and lived together in it. There were nine of them now, plus fourteen Jenns and twenty-two Jennifers — I found it helped if I didn’t think of them as me.

None of the Jenns could come up with anything on the island — or create anything in the fabricator — that we could use to build a liftship. The Jennies wanted to find a way to take over the liftship that brought the others to us, but we had no idea why everyone just shut down when it arrived.

Then Jennie Ten came.

I went to visit her in the medical center. Jennifers Three and Nine were standing near her, monitoring her brain; Jenn One was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, explaining where she was and what was going on. She told Jennie Ten she’d be right back and, while Jennifer Three took over hand-holding duty, Jenn and I went to the small office Jennifer Nine had been using since she’d taken over as head of the medical center. I took the guest chair; Jenn hitched her hip up onto the desk. “She’s a blank,” she told me. “Nothing in there. Just her name: Jennie.”

“Nothing at all?”

Jenn shook her head. “Doesn’t know her last name, where she’s from, even why she’s got that scar.”