Ten percent.
I decided now was the time to panic. Never had I let my battery charge get so low. Never had I let myself come this close to death. The lowest I had ever let my MeTab’s battery sink to was fifty percent. Now here I am in a broken down train, alone, with a dying, life sustaining, device in my hands. There’s no way out. It’s dark. I’m dying. I’m done.
“Your heart rate appears to be speeding up.” Nova, the voice of my MeTab, says in her monotone. The blinding brightness of the illuminated screen stings my eyes. “Would you like me to slow your heart rate down?”
“No.” I stammer, my voice ringing out into the metal chamber.
“Alright.” Nova says.
I press the button on the top of the small device and I’m plummeted back into darkness as the screen goes dark. Spots dance in my eyes. I can hear the sounds of the city above me, traffic zooming by, the people walking along the streets talking on their MeTabs, wandering around in their own little bubbles. They are completely unaware of the young, trapped girl beneath their feet.
I wish there was a calling signal so I could call for help. Or at least call my parents. Or Sophie. Or Kyle. I wish I could just tell someone where to find me when I’m gone. I wish I could change things.
Nine percent.
I sink to the ground onto all fours and feel my way through the darkness. My fingers itch to just use my MeTab’s flashlight, but that will only drain my remaining time. I bump my head on the wall, cursing under my breath. I pull myself up onto one of the seats, leaning my pounding head against the cold window. I close my eyes.
I remember my brain surgery. When I was twelve, that’s the age everyone gets their MeTab, I went in for surgery to get the chip in my brain that corresponds with my MeTab. I was so excited. I would never have to remember to breathe or blink again, my MeTab would do it for me. It would keep my heart beating. It would be my brain. Who wouldn’t want that?
It never crossed my mind once that running on a battery might not be a good idea. I never thought it would result in this.
Eight percent.
I remember waking up that morning to Nova’s ping.
“Good morning, Taura. I am fully charged.” Nova said as if reading off of a script. “I understand that you are craving pancakes. I’ll send a message to your mother.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled, burying my face into my pillows.
“You have one unread message.” Nova continued. “Would you like me to read it?”
“Yes, please.”

“It’s from Sophie. She said ‘Hey Taura! I’m going downtown to that cool new club with the live bands. Everyone will be there. You have to go! Bring Kyle.’”

“Reply yes.”

“Alright.”

Twenty minutes later, I was downstairs dressed in my school uniform: an awful navy blue dress with the MeTab logo stitched onto the back above our school name. My hair was pulled up into its mandatory ponytail.

Mom had already set out a plate of hot pancakes at my spot at the counter. She didn’t say anything as I entered the kitchen. Her nose is buried in her MeTab, work spreadsheets reflected in her glassy eyes.

Dad entered the kitchen, his fingers swarmed his tie, expertly tying the knot. I heard Stephan, his MeTab’s persona, reading off the weather for the day from the depths of his suit pocket. He kissed my forehead as he walked by, his mind set on the cup of coffee lounging on the counter.

“I’m going to a concert downtown tonight.” I announced.

Click. Tap. Click. Answered Mom.

“Ok, make sure that you have your charger.” Dad answered in my direction. He pulled his MeTab from his pocket. “Read me the news.”

That was the final conversation I had with my parents.

Seven percent.

The class bell rang right as I slid into my seat. The tele-teacher turned on and the robot began its lecture. I typed notes on my desk screen and stared ahead pretending to listen. My eyes drooped several times, but my MeTab buzzed from my pocket until I was awake again. I smiled hearing several other student’s MeTabs buzzing.

At lunch Sophie and I sat together at our usual spot with the rest of our friends. The cafeteria was a sea of navy blue. Buzzing MeTab’s messengers and laughter filled the air. Sophie chattered on about the latest gossip, and I nodded and smiled, my eyes scanning the room. Sophie didn’t notice my lack of interest; her thumbs were dancing across her MeTab screen, pink nails moving in a blur.

Sophie and I had been best friends since we were young. Like magnets, we were opposites, but we couldn’t be separated. We would play all day together, pretend games if Sophie got her way, and sports games if I got mine. Either way, we were always laughing, or at least that’s what I remember from it. As we got older we told secrets and talked about boys by the light of the moon as we slept under the stars. As we approached twelve years, Sophie got prettier, her blonde hair grew longer and she began to develop curves. I, on the other hand, had hair that grew more unmanageably curly rather than longer. I got taller, longer, and more awkward.

Then came our twelfth birthdays. Hers was a month before mine, and everything changed. She didn’t talk to me anymore, only to her MeTab. She didn’t share her crazy ideas about the world anymore, she was silent. She was typing. She was clicking. She was gone. After spending a month alone, I finally got my MeTab and all in the world seemed to be right again. Except it was different. Our relationship was different. We were different.

Six percent.

After what seemed like a never ending day, the final school bell rang. I met Sophie outside. Our ponytails danced above our heads as traffic zoomed by.

“I have to run home first to recharge,” Sophie shouted over the noise. “Do you wanna meet downtown?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I’m going to Kyle’s.We’ll see you down there.”

We waved goodbye and walked opposite directions down the street. Kyle graduated from school last year. After getting his MeTab programmed with the right software, he started a job as an accountant. He worked a few days a week, and partied all the others. When he was still in school, and I was a starstruck sophomore, he would take me to the movies and sometimes out to dinner. We messaged 24/7 and I would wear his jersey for every football game. Now, I only saw him occasionally and when I did he would be working on his MeTab or nursing a hangover. His MeTab held a charge for less time than it used to. He was still the same Kyle, but wrinkles frowned below his eyes and his hair was quickly running from his forehead.

I checked my charge, 62 percent. I’d charge it at Kyle’s house.

Only working a few days a week, Kyle lived in a small apartment down in Old Town. Hover Buses didn’t run that far and anyone who wished to travel in ways other than by foot was forced to take the old subway. The old things creaked and rattled, but managed to get passengers where they needed to be.

Or so I thought.

Five percent.

My shoes clicked on the tile stairs as I sauntered into the dim lighting of the subway.
I’m on my way over. Get ready. We are going out tonight. XO. I typed feverishly on my MeTab and sent to Kyle.

A storm of air hit me as the train screeched to a halt before me. I boarded the train. No one was on, which was no surprise. Hardly anyone lived in this area anymore, and those who did, didn’t have anywhere to go at three in the afternoon. An eerie stain on one of the old cloth seats encouraged me to stand. The train lurched forward, its overhead light flickering. It traveled on for a while, winding through tunnels. Winding. Curving. Slowing.

Four percent.
I looked around. The train was, in fact, slowing. This was not a stop, nothing but concrete walls encircled the train. The trains groaning voice muted. Slowing. Stopping. Darkness.

Pissed. That was my first reaction. Typical old machines, breaking all the time. I pulled my MeTab from my pocket to text Kyle I was going to be late.

“I have no service.” Nova said.

Scared. My second thought. What was I going to do until the train started again?

“You are at fifty percent.” Nova said. “You may want to consider charging me as soon as possible.”

S***. My third thought. Now what?

Hours passed. The train had not moved. I had not moved. My battery life had moved down however.

Three percent.

My whirring thoughts suddenly slow.

“Entering power save mode.” Nova announces.

It may be my dying brain, but I swear I can detect a hint of pity in her robotic voice.

Sighing, I break the dam and tears begin to fall from my eyes. This is really it. This is the end. When I pictured my life I never would have thought I would die inside a train, at the age of seventeen. I want to scream and kick. I want to get out!

Two percent.

A sense of peace washes over me. This is the first time I’ve slowed enough to hear my own thoughts. I smile.

One Percent.
A whimper escapes me, but I remain still. Ignoring the slowing pounding in my head.
My mind goes still.
Then nothing.
I wait a few minutes then sit upright. I press the button on my MeTab. It’s dead. But I’m not. I breath in, breathing on my own. My mind feels suddenly clear as if a fog has been lifted. Then I laugh. I laugh so loud it rattles the train. I laugh until I cry, curled in a ball on the cold floor.
I lay there laughing until the train roars to life. It continues on down the track, naive that this old piece of metal has forever changed my life. Kyle’s stop passes in a blur, the city rushes by me, but I am no longer a part of it. I am my own person. I am free. I am unstoppable.
I am unplugged.