INVALID

INVALID - Chapter 5: Compassionate Reassignment

I woke up tall.

That's the first thing you notice. The world was wrong. The light fixture that had always been just out of reach was now too close. My hands — bandaged, throbbing — were too big. My legs were straight iron bars of pain.

I tried to sit up and vomited from the blood-pump pressure shift. The vomit was clear. Jerome's plasma.

"Easy, Adonis," Aris said. She was suturing my left eyelid. "Your new corneas are settling. Don't rub them or you'll blind yourself with someone else's eyes."

Jerome wheeled over, holding a mirror.

I didn't recognize the man in it. Symmetrical jaw. Perfect nose. Grey eyes that were not mine — they were cold, Valid eyes. A stranger's face stretched over my skull. I looked like a statue that had learned to bleed.

"Say something," Jerome said.

I opened my mouth. My voice was hoarse. "Where's... Eli..."

"He's gone."

The words didn't register until my mother's voice screamed from Jerome's tablet on the table. He had tapped our home line.

"MICAH! MICAH THEY TOOK HIM! THEY SAID COMPASSIONATE REASSIGNMENT! THEY SAID HIS HEART IS INEFFICIENT!"

Aris ripped the tablet away. "She shouldn't be calling this number!"

"Replay it," I said, trying to stand. My new femurs screamed. I fell.

Jerome replayed it. My mother's voice, broken.

Two men in white had come at 6 AM. Not police. Genetic Welfare. They showed her Eli's latest scan — cardiac efficiency down to 61%. Below the 65% threshold for state support for Invalid children. She had signed a paper under duress that said she understood that "compassionate reassignment to a low-exertion facility" was in his best interest.

There is no low-exertion facility. Everyone in the Outer Ring knew that. There was the incinerator behind the water plant. The one they called the Nursery.

They recycle inefficient children. They don't put it on the news because Valid parents don't have inefficient children.

"How long ago?" I asked.

"Two hours," Jerome said quietly. "They will hold him for 24 hours for processing. After that, it's... done."

I ripped the IVs out. Blood — Jerome's blood — sprayed the shipping container.

"Where?"

"The Welfare Hub, Middle Ring. But you can't just walk in, Micah. You're still healing. Your gait is off, your—"

I was already putting on Jerome's clothes. Expensive, clean clothes that smelled like nothing. In the pocket, a silver card. JEROME MORAWSKI - GQ 98 - HELIOS PRIORITY CLEARANCE.

For the first time in my life, a door would open for me instead of closing.

"The pump," Aris hissed. "If your heart rate goes over 140, it will rupture!"

My heart was already at 135.

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The Welfare Hub was beautiful. That's what made it evil.

White stone, a fountain that Invalids weren't allowed to drink from, children playing — perfect children — on genetically modified grass that never died.

I walked in. I didn't limp. I forced my new bones to move like Jerome's. The camera above the door scanned me.

WELCOME, MR. MORAWSKI. GQ 98. YOUR COMPASSION IS NOTED.

The receptionist stood up instantly. "Mr. Morawski! We weren't expecting a Priority visit. How can we serve?"

I used Jerome's voice. The accentless, calm voice.

"I'm here for the Rowe boy. Eli Rowe. Faith Birth intake this morning."

Her smile faltered. "Oh. That case is... flagged as inefficient. The processing is already scheduled. I'm not sure a volunteer visit is—"

"I'm not volunteering," I said, and I felt the power of that GQ number like a drug. "I'm auditing. For Helios. We're reviewing Middle Ring efficiency protocols for Titan resource allocation. This boy's stem cells are of interest for exobotany research."

It was Jerome's line. We had rehearsed it in the container.

She scanned my card again. The system believed I was Jerome. And Jerome could ask for anything.

"Of course! He's in Holding C. Low-exertion. Very peaceful. Would you like me to bring him?"

"Take me to him."

Holding C was not peaceful. It was a white room with 20 other children, all Invalids, all hooked to monitors that weren't treating them, just measuring how long they took to fade. No parents. No doctors. Just a soft, piped-in lullaby and air that was slightly low on oxygen to make them sleepy.

Eli was in the corner, tiny in a gown that was too big. His lips were dark blue. He was awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Eli," I whispered. My perfect voice cracked.

He turned. He didn't recognize me. He saw a tall, perfect Valid man leaning over him.

"Are you... are you here to fix me?" he asked. His voice was so small.

I couldn't speak. The blood pump in my chest was thudding. 138 bpm. 139.

I pulled back my sleeve, showing the raw, freshly grafted fingerprint. Underneath, my old skin was still trying to grow back.

"It's me," I whispered in my real voice, the ugly one. "It's Micah. I got tall."

His eyes — my mother's eyes — widened. He didn't care about the perfect face. He recognized the way I said his name.

"Your glasses..." he said.

"I don't need them anymore."

He touched my new face. "You look scary."

"Good. Scary people get to leave."

I picked him up. He weighed nothing. 11 years old and 29 kilos.

The receptionist met us at the door. "Mr. Morawski, that child is not cleared for—"

"He is now. Helios custody. Here." I shoved Jerome's tablet at her. Jerome had forged the transfer order 30 seconds earlier from his chair in the slaughterhouse, hacking into the Welfare Hub with a Valid login that no one ever questioned.

Her tablet pinged green. TRANSFER APPROVED - HELIOS MEDICAL VAULT - PRIORITY RESEARCH.

Because when a GQ 98 says a GQ 41 is useful, the system doesn't argue. Usefulness is the only morality it understands.

We walked out of the Hub, past the fountain, past the perfect children. No one stopped us. A Valid carrying an Invalid looks like charity. It looks good on camera.

Outside, Aris's van was waiting, illegal engine running.

I put Eli in the back. He immediately fell asleep against my new, perfect chest, listening to a heart that wasn't mine thudding inside it.

Jerome's voice crackled over the van radio. "You have 23 hours before they realize that order was fake, Micah. If you're not inside Helios by then, they will incinerate all three of us and use us as fertilizer for their perfect grass."

I looked down at my brother, breathing too fast in my arms.

"Then we better learn how to be perfect fast," I said.

My blood pump hit 141 bpm and for a second, everything went white.

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