By Gloria Liang

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This piece was selected as an Honorable Mention in the First Chapters Contest, hosted in partnership with Penguin Random House and Electric Lit.

In the mechanized faction of Chronodale in the Velorath Coalition, humanoid dolls have been forbidden for their destructive power and lack of humanity. That’s the way it’s always been—or supposed to be, at least.

Chapter 1

It was one in the morning when the emergency alarm shook Min from her rest. 

Chronodale wasn’t known for being a peaceful faction. Every other week some terrible accident occurred. Just last month, Min’s factory had caught fire during one of her rare days off. But this was the sector alarm, only for emergencies like large explosions or mass death. 

Still, whatever was outside could wait until a more godly hour. Min was perfectly willing to brave the emergency—she’d fallen asleep for once.

But as she wiped the haze of sleep from her eyes, Min remembered that she enjoyed being alive. The young inventor forced herself up, glaring with a fire that could have burned down the building as she threw open the blinds. 

“What the hell is going on?” Min muttered under her breath. Her gaze traveled down to the street in front of the apartment where she spotted a disheveled group of her neighbors.  

Min grabbed a jacket—the Vangate sector was always frigid—and flew down the ten flights of stairs, pushing past a disgruntled crowd. 

She spotted her next-door neighbor, the far too nosy Mrs. Joy, standing next to her other neighbors. They all lived on the same floor of the shoddy apartment, but Min didn’t know most of their names. 

Mrs. Joy was always trying to invite Min in for tea, only to interrogate her about why she was living with just her roommate, Kimi, and no parents between the two of them. Her name was—what did Kimi call it—a misnomer. Min would rather eat glass than try to hold a conversation with her. 

“Minyoung!” Mrs. Joy mispronounced her name, as she always did.

The older woman waved to her, and Min dragged her feet over to the cluster of people.

“What’s going on?” Min demanded. 

“The alarm went off,” Mrs. Joy said, lipstick smudged across a too-bright smile. 

How enlightening, Min wanted to retort. 

“I know,” she said instead, arms stiff at her side. It took all of her will not to let her confusion spill out as if these neighbors would have any answers. “Why?”

“No one knows,” a neighbor replied, shaking his head. “For now, we’ll have to stay out here to see if we get any news.”

“I don’t think I was even alive the last time the sector alarm was rung in the Vangate District,” wheezed that pushy old man who sold scrap metal at prices that Min considered a polite robbery.

Min looked up at the pitch-black sky above her, panic seizing her by the neck. “Where are you, Kimi?” she muttered under her breath.

“Don’t worry,” Min could practically hear him assure, “I’ll never die.”

Sure, Kimi—someone who could set a kitchen on fire without turning a single knob on the stove—would never die! Min sighed. She hoped he was safe. 

The sound of the alarm died down, leaving only the stillness of the night and the murmurs of a crowd bubbling with anxiety. Min glanced back at the apartment, wishing she could return to its warmth. It was one of those rare days when the heating was functioning. What a miserable day to be standing around outside.

Suddenly, a loud cry rang out. “The police are here!”

Min’s nails dug into her palms as she looked around wildly. No, she was safe, she told herself. The police weren’t after her today. The crowd, including Min, whispered as they parted for their organized formation.

Min recognized the officer in the lead. She knew that stoic frown and the sandy hair tucked under that hat. He’d been the one who reported to her school after the incident.

He’d looked younger then, she remembered, with softer features. Fewer stars on his uniform, less scarring on his face. But his voice had the same sharp, commanding ring to it then, as he had yelled for the paramedics. His eyes had darted to Min, who stood nearby, blank-faced but trembling. She had always stood out in the crowd of students, not quite cut from the same Lockfleur sector cloth. She lacked their prim clothing, their wealthy parents, and their brazen confidence that no matter what they did, money could find a way out of it. 

She supposed she owed him a debt. That officer had been the reason she wasn’t in prison right now. Still, the sight of him made her step back into the crowd, melting into just another face. Out of all the police that could have appeared, it was him. 

The officer scanned the mass in front of him. “Is everyone alright?”

The crowd responded with hesitant sounds of affirmation.

“What’s going on, sir?” someone shouted. “How come the police are all the way in Vangate? Did something happen to Ironfort?” 

“There’s been a violent incident in this sector,” the sandy-haired man explained, unperturbed by the milling crowd. 

Accidents in Chronodale were like the ever-present flies in her apartment. But violent crime? She narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t Coalfell, even if Vangate was about as close as you could get to Ironfort and the shadowy wasteland beyond it. The wall attracted the darker parts of society, as Min knew well.

“Our communication with the other police force was cut, so we are awaiting more information,” the policeman continued. “Please stay calm.”

Please stay calm. He’d said those words as soon as he’d arrived at Min’s school only a few years ago. Just like then, his last words didn’t do much now. The people huddled closest to  him burst into panicked speculation.

“What exactly is the cause?” one person enunciated. 

The man’s voice didn’t waver. “We believe a doll is on the loose.”

Min’s stomach churned. A doll. The word struck sparks in her head, setting her thoughts ablaze. Was it life-sized, meant to impersonate a human, or merely a child’s toy? Both could be dangerous, as her history classes had drilled into her. 

“A living doll?” one woman demanded. “Was it created by our inventors?”

The policeman shook his head. “It is unlicensed. It likely came from beyond Ironfort.”

Min’s heart dropped lower and lower. An unlicensed, living doll that could break past the border wall of Ironfort? She felt a wave of fear sweep over her, turning her knees to those jelly desserts that Kimi liked. 

Where was he now, with his mysterious job? It scared her, the way she wouldn’t know a thing if he got hurt, or worse. Min was by no means religious, but if it meant Kimi would come home safe, then she’d personally repair the long-abandoned temple to the god of fire. Please, she prayed, stay safe, Kimi. 

“How do you know that?” Mrs. Joy’s inquiry broke Min’s daze. 

“There are many details that have yet to be confirmed. We appreciate your patie—”

Static crackling over the policeman’s radio interrupted his speech. Instantly he pressed the device to his ear. The crowd surged forward, straining to listen to the tinny sounds. His subordinates tried to shove them away from their superior, but they couldn’t control the mob.  

“Please move away, this is confidential information—” His voice broke off as his face contorted in a cold rage. Min’s breath turned shallow. Three years ago, Min saw that face when the paramedics had told him what she already knew. She watched the paramedics whisper in his ear. He had turned to her with the same, frigid fury. The boy was dead. In the fog of shock over what she’d done, Min only remembered the last few words the officer said to her.

“Never let me see your face again.” His voice was low as he leaned down to meet her eyes. Min had faced criminals and starvation and explosions, but she’d never seen something as terrifying as that gaze.

In the crowd, Min ducked her head to avoid that expression. “Is that true?” The people in front of her stumbled back, jostling her until she nearly fell.

“What are you all saying?” the rest of the crowd demanded. 

One man pointed at the policeman wildly. “The poor officer on the other line said the doll cut the communication lines and killed seven police!”

Nothing would stop the pandemonium. People lurched forward, shouting at the police for reassurance that would not come, while others froze in place. Min stood still as her thoughts raced.

The doll had killed someone? How could someone create a doll that did that? Min had once tried making a doll programmed with simple commands to walk or repeat words, but the project had stretched into a year-long effort. Maybe making dolls was illegal for a reason. Any inventor who could create a doll capable of killing seven officers would be too much of a risk to the Mechanical Society. Even Min, who’d rather see their headquarters reduced to scrap material, had to agree.

“This is the Doll War all over again!”

Min rubbed her forehead, gritting her teeth. In the fluorescent lighting of her classrooms, learning about dolls waging war against their creators had filled her with a grotesque kind of curiosity. But under the streetlights in the bitter cold, all she felt was fear. 

“Silence!” the policeman yelled, his voice heavy with grief. “We will not allow another disaster on the scale of the Doll War. There is only one doll, and with all units searching, I assure you that it will be found. In the meantime, I advise you to remain inside your apartments.” He turned away. “Good night.”

A high-pitched voice interrupted. “Are you sure that the doll won’t come to attack us?”

The policeman pulled his hat lower. “We will do whatever it takes to capture it first.”

Min smiled wryly at the way the man had avoided the question. How disgustingly noble, to try to prevent more fear. But she knew the real answer. No one was safe. 

She returned inside, bumping hips with the other people returning to their apartments and side-stepping Mrs. Joy’s invitation to have some tea “to calm their nerves.”

Sighing, Min stepped inside her apartment and flicked on the lights. The stale air greeted her with a gust that sent goosebumps up her legs. Wonderful. The heating was down again. 

She wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Bare feet pressed against the rough tile floor, Min walked over to the couch in the living room and slumped onto the cracking leather, wrapping her sole knit blanket over her knees. 

In the harsh glow of the lightbulb, she glanced over the familiar room identical to other apartments in the building. Chronodale’s industrial residences all looked the same—it was cheaper that way. A squat television sat in front of the couch, but not much else; even the compact apartment felt wide and open. She had old memories of a warm home, full of carpets and furniture, without the peeling wall paint and chipped doors.

Min wasn’t a Chronodale native, she was sure. She didn’t have the numbers and letters carved into her skin, the black ink marking the base of her neck like Kimi did. They were faded and tiny, but visible indications of Chronodale’s meticulous record-keeping.

Kimi’s memory of his childhood was clearer than hers. He would talk about blinding, artificial light, small rooms filled with coal smoke where no sun would penetrate, and the clanking of machinery from some unknown panel in the walls. It was just like the Chronodale Min had come to know.

The details of her memories blurred around the edges, but Min remembered a blue sky, chairs, and sofas overflowing from one room, and trips to a body of water so large it could have swallowed her up. How laughable it seemed now, in land-locked Chronodale. She was no Nautican, but she could swear she had once lived a different, softer life.

Or maybe her mind was creating false memories to provide some comfort for her miserable situation, as if nostalgia was enough to keep her going. She wasn’t sure anymore. 

Min glanced to her side at the grated window, stomach churning. Her apartment always felt far too big when Kimi was gone. She wished she could count stars in the sky, the way her mother used to do the same with her, but the smog blotted out every last pinprick. 

What was going to happen? The anxiety had returned, a pit that pulled her in at the worst of times. When she acknowledged its gnawing at the back of her mind, the whisper of awful possibilities only worsened.

Min slapped her cheeks. “Stop being so fretful. You’re going to die an early death.”

She took a deep breath. Things would get smoothed out soon and return to normal. She would go back to work in the factories that belched black smoke. She would allow herself to have conversations with the four ladies who always invited her to sit with them in the corner, nearest the exit. They could tell she was always eyeing the door outside but didn’t question her like Mrs. Joy. She liked that. 

With another inhale, she reminded herself of the projects she still had to finish. Outside the factory, she worked as a freelance inventor, one of thousands, taking commissions from whoever heard of her work through the grapevine. Sometimes her clients gave her clear blueprints. More often they were over-ambitious, pricey projects that Min knew would be impossible before she even picked up a tool.

The oversaturated field of freelance invention meant Min had to chase improvement if she wanted some semblance of job security. Maybe her experiences with working for hellish clients who nitpicked and demeaned her skills had instilled a shred of admiration for the mad inventor who created the rogue doll, even if only for a moment. 

Min’s first doll had taken her a year and three months. It was a project born of curiosity and defiance of the Mechanical Society’s regulation. The rudimentary invention had merely flopped from foot to foot, whirring sadly as it struggled to raise its rough hands. Its speech was garbled, less syllable and more squeak. Her second attempt remained unfinished, buried in her closet like a skeleton. She had never understood why a law banning humanoid dolls existed—what kind of doll did the Society expect to exist? 

Now she did. Even if that inventor had dedicated their life to their work, creating a doll that could murder and evade humans would have still been a feat beyond what even the best inventors in Chronodale could manage. The mob had been terrified of the doll, but Min’s blood ran cold at the idea of an inventor with enough skill—and ambition—to do such a thing. 

She stiffened at the thought of dolls, chiding herself for allowing herself to dwell on this again. Min had a sickening feeling that, even after she had abandoned her second doll and left school for good, she was still not free from her life on the run. Those years made the sterile apartment look like a paradise. Min swallowed the lump in her throat. All she could do was push forward. It was the only way a girl like her could survive. 

 A single mysterious doll in Chronodale wouldn’t stop her from the life she wanted to live. She would not be rattled by something that she hadn’t seen. It could all be a one-off event.

Everything was going to be fine.

Min spent half of the night staring at the wall, eyes refusing to shut. Typical. Eventually, when she realized this was going to be another restless night, she headed into her bedroom and sat at her desk. 

An array of drawers filled with gears and screws sat on one side of her desk. Her toolbox sat on the other. Messy ideas, scribbled on scrap paper, were tacked above the workspace and scattered everywhere. Kimi wrinkled his nose every time he saw her desk, but Min knew the layout like the back of her hand. Her current project, a mechanical dog automaton for one of her regular clients, sat on her desk. At the moment, it was a wire frame that resembled a blob more than an animal. She hadn’t even started the circuitry. 

Min ran a finger across the switch of the lamp and turned it on, feeling the cold ridges of the metal. Working her hands always calmed her down, and she desperately needed a dose of tranquility. She pulled open the drawer to her right, seeing the wooden body of her first doll. She pulled it out, laying it on her desk next to the dog. Instantly she was reminded of how awful her work had been. The hands were more like claws, attached with clunky screws. It would have been better to use wire, or better yet, ball joints.

She sighed and rested her face on her arms, staring at the two projects on her desk. Today her old anxieties had resurfaced with a wave she hadn’t felt in a long time. Min’s instincts had long been honed by a host of near-death experiences and encounters with treacherous parts of Chronodale’s underbelly. This time, she wouldn’t let herself make the same mistakes.

The policeman’s face reappeared, and she thought of the expulsion notice she had stuffed at the back of her desk. That day, her last inside a school, she had forced words out of her terrified windpipe. A vow she never let herself forget.

I won’t get involved in anything dangerous. 

“Remember your promise, Lee Minyoung,” she whispered, and she picked up a spool of wire.

~

The figure had suspected they were being followed for hours. At first, it was the whisper of conversation that lingered in the air a moment too long. Then, the tiniest rustle of fabric, the splash of a puddle. Had their hearing not been so precise, they would never have noticed. 

They paused in one of the many narrow alleys. It looked identical to the ones they’d passed before—cracking, uneven ground; a few trash bags filled with garbage and some broken bottles; people dressed in rags. The figure had passed many of them, covered in soot and grime with strange eyes and an emotion the figure didn’t recognize. They never moved. 

What should they do about whoever was hunting them? Run? Hide? Confront them? Back in the workshop they never had to make choices by themself.

They didn’t need to make a decision. The figure heard the whoosh of movement one moment before an incredible force knocked them into the wall. They fell to the ground with a crash, their chest pinned by a sudden, heavy pressure.

“Got you!” A triumphant call rang out.

“Could you have shoved it any harder? I bet someone in the next alley heard the crash,” another voice followed. 

The figure stared up at the morning sky with blank eyes. The ground was wet and they could feel the water seeping in between their limbs. How the master would be irritated if he saw this.

When they tried to move their arms, they felt empty air on one side and cracking on the other. Their legs felt mostly intact, but they couldn’t sit up to check. 

A person wearing a marbled-blue mask looked down at them. Hazel eyes glared from behind the mask and dark brown wisps of hair peeked from beneath their hood. “Caught you, doll.”

The doll only stared. 

“Why isn’t it moving?” The dark-haired person looked back at their partner. “Does injuring it cause it to lose consciousness?”

Their partner snorted. “You broke its arms by slamming it against a wall and you’re standing on them with all of your strength. No one, not even a doll, would be able to move after that.”

Their voices both sounded male, the partner’s slightly higher. Despite the dark-haired one’s formal demeanor, the two still seemed young. 

“Hey. Doll.” The partner leaned down and poked the doll’s face. They glimpsed brown eyes from the eyeholes of the same watery mask the other boy wore. “Are you alive?”

“Yes,” the doll responded. 

“It speaks!” the brown-eyed boy exclaimed, leaping back.

“Shut up, Kimiko,” the dark-haired boy glanced up with a withering stare, then back down at them.

Kimiko leaned against a wall of the alley, fingers tapping against the brick to a rhythm only he heard. “Why was this important enough for me to get off my paid leave, Jax? I was just about to start enjoying myself. Clearly you all care and love—” 

“Are you stupid?” Jax broke in. “This must be the doll that broke through Ironfort, cut the communication lines in the North, and killed Squadron 1098. This should probably be the Mechanical Society’s jurisdiction, but the Council commanded us.”

“Don’t give it a Velorathian bureaucracy lesson, ” Kimiko retorted. “You’re supposed to be the focused one.”

“It’s not going to stay around long enough to remember any of this,” Jax responded, “We’re going to the nearest factory to dispose of it.” 

Dispose. The doll didn’t know what that meant, but by the way Kimiko stepped back, it didn’t appear to be anything good. 

“If the Society was willing to delegate it to us, it looks like they’re real scared about this,” Kimiko murmured. 

Jax rolled his eyes. “Did you listen to a single word I just said?”

“Shut it. Of course I did.”

“Then this protocol should make sense. No use keeping around ticking time bombs like this doll.” Jax kicked at what remained of the doll’s arm with a click of his tongue. 

“I need to find someone,” the doll said.

The two swung to look at them. Jax scoffed. “Tch. As if that’ll make us spare you—”

“The mistress called him Si-woo.” 

Jax and Kimiko suddenly hushed, glancing at each other and then back down to the doll. In a low voice, Jax muttered, “Well, this is far messier than I first thought.”

Kimiko just whistled. “Shocker. Working for the government tends to be like this.” 

They turned back to the doll. Jax’s pressure on them loosened. “The mistress, you said?” Jax questioned. 

“Yes.”

Jax ruffled his hair in a rough motion, grumbling something under his breath. “That complicates things. Still, an order is an order—” 

“Wait, Jax. New plan. We keep the doll around,” said Kimiko.

Jax paused in his pacing and stared at the other person. “What?”

Kimiko’s hands began wildly gesturing. “The information it has could be useful to us. Wink wink nudge nudge.” 

Realization dawned in Jax’s eyes and he laughed wildly. “Enough to warrant the risk? I don’t think you understand the pos—”

“Yes, yes, I know, a doll broke through Ironfort. But I don’t think it’s this one. If we discard it, we throw away any chance of a lead on the origins of the actual doll.”

“If it’s not the culprit, why would it know anything about the true criminal?” Jax rubbed his temples, sighing. “You’re not doing very well convincing me, Kimiko.”

Kimiko’s voice took on a quality similar to Jax’s. Less easygoing. More stern. “You know what Si-woo said about the mistress.” 

Jax didn’t respond. 

“I’ll deal with it,” promised Kimiko.

The two were silent for a moment. “Are you sure about this?” Jax finally asked, “I cannot hand this to you and expect things not to go wrong.”

“I know someone who can deal with this. I’ve been on the streets as long as you have. You remember what he said.” 

At the mention of a ‘he,’ Jax made a disgusted sound. “What are you, his dog? Fine then. This one’s your problem.”

The doll cut into their bickering with a question. “What are you doing with me?” 

“We’re going to be sending you to live with one of Kimiko’s contacts. They will handle you until we can come back and take you to Si-woo, or so he promised,” Jax raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

Jax’s eyes bored into the doll’s. “Let’s make a deal, doll, since Kimiko here,” he pointed at his partner, “is so hellbent on this shit.”

“Dang, you swore.”

 “Fuck off. If you comply with Kimiko and whatever contact he has, then we’ll bring you to the man you seek. Do you agree?”

The doll took a moment to consider. What else could they do? Where else would they obtain the answers they wanted? 

“Yes.” 

“That settles it!” Kimiko pumped his fist. 

Meanwhile, Jax started pacing again. “Can you live without parts of your body?” Jax asked the doll, all business. 

“Yes.”

“Then, maybe I should break off your legs to make it easier to carry you.”

Kimiko looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”

“Do you want to carry them?” Jax growled. 

His partner shook his head. “Dollface, how can we put you back together?”

Could they tell the truth?

“Magic crystals,” they responded, deciding they had no choice. “Resin, and magic crystals.”

Jax whipped back to Kimiko. “You’re buying those two. Out of pocket.”

“And I’ll carry them,” Kimiko promised dutifully. 

Within a minute, Kimiko strode down the alley carrying the doll’s torso while Jax held a bag of their shards. Kimiko’s eyes darted from place to place, slightly obstructed by long curly bangs a few shades lighter than Jax’s hair. While visibly taller than his partner, Kimiko still couldn’t quite keep up with Jax almost jogging ahead. 

“Turn left here,” Kimiko instructed.

“Where are we going?” Jax asked.

“My contact’s apartment. If I’m lucky, she won’t be back yet,” Kimiko huffed. He didn’t quite have Jax’s brute strength. 

“I’m curious as to who would willingly take in a doll,” Jax said, and stared at Kimiko.

“You shouldn’t be.”

Finally, the trio paused in front of a crumbling tall building, similar to many of the ones around it. The front of the scant apartment had dark grim weeds climbing up it. Some of the windows were broken and litter lay at the feet of the edifice. This was quite dissimilar from the elegant workshop where the doll used to live.

Still, they knew nothing would ever be the same as before, not after what had happened to the workshop. Where was Master? Was he happy now?

“Don’t worry, Dollface,” the boy called Kimiko whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of Jax, “Min will patch you up.”

Kimiko ascended the stairs with a large bag in his hands, the doll’s porcelain face hidden beneath the burlap. When he unlocked the apartment door, he was met with silence and no roommate. He knew Min would be angry with him when he asked her to take in the doll. But he didn’t know that the porcelain face cracked between his hands was one Min had seen before.