by ID Johnson
“Maybe,” Rain replied. Part of her wanted to. They could step over a lot of the clutter and walk directly on the floor. But then she imagined stepping on some hidden shard of glass or giant piece of metal and hurting herself. Then what would they do? If any of the Mothers found out what they were up to, they’d be in huge trouble. They’d probably have to go to Isolation for at least a week, and while neither of them had actually ever spent any time in there at all, they’d heard stories. It wasn’t pretty….
“We should be careful.” Mist’s comment echoed Rain’s sentiment, and she agreed with a nod before Mist slowly stepped out of the clear patch by the stairs and into the mess that covered whatever this place was.
A row of wooden shelves lined one of the walls. Most of the shelves were empty. Only a couple of cans sat on the bottom shelf. They were so old Rain couldn’t read them even when she held one to her face. Above them, she found a few glass bottles. A jug identical to one she’d seen on the floor sat on another shelf, far in the corner. Mist approached it with caution, stepping around some leaves like she wasn’t sure the floor would hold. Crouching down, she poked at it with one finger a few times and then carefully pulled it off of the shelf. It looked heavy as she struggled to lift it with one hand. “What is it?” Rain asked.
“Water,” Mist said, sitting it back on the shelf.
Chapter Six
“Water?” It seemed so strange to have a plastic container of water on a shelf, but then, perhaps they didn’t have hydration pills back then. She couldn’t imagine a world where a person had to worry about finding water.
“The cans must’ve been food,” Mist said as she stood back up and shined the light around toward the chair in the corner. “Maybe people took shelter down here during the war.”
“Maybe,” Rain agreed. It made sense that a room like this might be able to withstand the bombs they were dropping at the time, but it seemed dangerous to build the stairs of wood. If a fire had broken out, they could’ve burned, leaving them stranded. “It’s all so bizarre.”
“I agree.” Mist took a few steps toward the mess in the corner, walking slowly. While there was still some light radiating her direction, Rain didn’t want to move too far without the full effect of the beam, so she stood still and watched as Mist picked her way over the debris, kicking larger items out of the way, like broken wood pieces and some of the metal.
After several minutes of looking around and seeing nothing of particular interest, Mist shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe we should come back some time with protection gloves and see if we can find anything of value.”
“Yeah, that would be a better idea than digging around with our bare hands,” Rain agreed knowing protection gloves would be impenetrable to anything sharp or pokey. “We should probably get back home.”
“You’re right,” Mist said, her eyes still scanning the ground. “Too bad we didn’t find anything useful, though. Such an interesting place but no clues to anything.”
Rain had taken a few steps toward the stairs but stopped and turned to look at her friend. “Clues?” she asked, not sure what Mist meant. “What sort of clues?”
“You know, about the past,” Mist said with a shrug. “About… before the Claiming and the War. Don’t you ever wonder what life was like back then?”
Muscles constricted in her stomach as a nausea flooded her senses. “Mist… that’s forbidden,” Rain reminded her. “We aren’t allowed to explore that period of history. You know that.”
The red-head squared around to look directly at her. “Don’t you want to know, Rain?”
“It doesn’t matter if I want to know or not, Mist! We aren’t allowed to.”
“Rain, you’re too intelligent to continue to say things like that. Don’t you ever question… anything?”
A wave of anger took over as Rain looked her so-called best friend in the eyes. She took a few steps closer. “You’re right, Mist, I am smart. Too smart to get myself thrown in Isolation--or worse--over some stupid hole in the ground! No, I don’t question the past! We’ve been told not to, for our own good. Why would I want to go against the Mothers? They know what’s best for us!”
Mist made a sound like steam coming out of a vaporized cooking bag. “It’s time to open your eyes, Rain.”
Glaring at her, Rain insisted, “My eyes are open! I’m going up. You can dig through stupid cans and leaves all you want to!” She whirled around and headed back to the stairs, glad the sunlight penetrated the high trees on the perimeter enough to illuminate the way out, even though Mist wouldn’t be cruel enough to turn the flashtube off while she was on the stairs. She reached the top and considered storming off and leaving her friend alone, but she didn’t. Instead, she took a few steps back toward the woods, folded her arms, and seethed.
Mist stayed down a few more minutes, giving Rain just enough time to cycle through what had transpired. Her anger morphed into something else--something she didn’t even want to admit to herself: realization. In her heart, she knew Mist was right. So many of the Mothers’ teachings never made much sense, but Rain had never questioned them. In fact, she was under the impression no one ever questioned them. Now, she was beginning to realize some people did. People like her best friend. And she’d had no idea.
Footsteps echoed off the stairs. Mist emerged from the hole, an odd expression on her face. She looked a little surprised to see that Rain hadn’t gone home without her, and her hand went to her back in an odd way, as if she were trying to tuck in her shirt or something, which made little sense because the button-down shirt she wore over her T-shirt wasn’t tucked in at all. Rain arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything. Just because Mist was right didn’t mean she had to admit it.
She watched as Mist closed the door and buried it under some leaves, dirt, and logs, making sure the metal handle wasn’t obvious but they could still find it if they ever wanted to come back. Rain told herself there was no point, but in the back of her mind, she wasn’t so sure that was how she really felt.
Without a word, Mist began walking toward the path they’d taken through the forest, and Rain followed, but an uneasiness hung between them, one not sparked by the argument but by something else. A heavy feeling settled in her chest as Rain contemplated what it would be like to lose Mist’s friendship. She couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d have to find a way to apologize without Mist knowing Rain thought she was right. Questioning the Mothers was wrong--and risky--and Rain didn’t need any of those things in her life. Surely, Mist realized she was treading on dangerous ground and would stop making such crazy statements. If she’d said something like that to anyone else…. Rain couldn’t finish the thought.
Mist stepped through the trees, moving quickly, but Rain kept up, her haste to get back home fueling her speed. Whatever else was going on with Mist, Rain couldn’t tell, but a few times, she adjusted her pants in a way Rain had never noticed her yank on them before, and as they neared the exit of the forest, Rain got a glimpse of something protruding from the back of Mist’s waistband. She couldn’t tell what it was, but Rain was certain that, whatever it happened to be, it had come from the hole, and it could only mean trouble.
Chapter Seven
The bell rang as Rain slid down the slick hallway, her shoes losing traction, her hand reaching for the door just as Mother Swan went to lock it. Everyone knew if you didn’t make it into class before the mother locked the door, you’d be barred from entering for the entire period, and since this was a lab, that meant Rain would miss the entire day. Luckily, Mother Swan was feeling lenient this morning. She narrowed her wrinkled gray eyes slightly and said, “Good morning, Rain. Cutting it awfully close.”
“Good morning, Mother Swan. Yes, I apologize. It won’t happen again.” Rain waited for a nod of agreement from her instructor and then hurried to her seat next to Cloud, trying to catch her breath. She held her lab coat in one hand, her bag that contained her tablet and the other tools she’d need slung haph
azardly over her shoulder where it had fallen in her desperate race to beat the bell and reach the door before it became impenetrable.
Cloud raised an eyebrow, but Rain would have to wait until after Mother Swan was done with her opening lecture to explain. It was just as well. She couldn’t tell Cloud everything that had almost gotten her high marks cut in half from one silly mistake, but she could probably tell her enough to satisfy her curiosity. Rain settled down on her stool, glancing over the tools they had displayed in front of them and tried to hear the instructions over her pounding heart. Lab day was always a bit nerve-racking anyway, and she hadn’t set herself up to make it any easier.
“What you see before you is an incubator,” Mother Swan was saying, placing her hands on either side of the clear glastic container in front of her. Glastic, a substance created right before WWIII, was a product that contained the strength of plastic with the clarity of glass, and it was Rain’s understanding that there was nothing known to womankind that could shatter it.
Mother Swan continued to go over the different parts of the incubator, including the thermostat and the warming and heating components, where the life cord was inserted, how it hooked up to the nourishment system, which they also had on their tables, and a few other mechanical pieces Rain wasn’t aware of before. While she had seen an incubator at some point in her life, since she’d been nourished in one before she was deemed worthy of life and taken to the nursery facility, she certainly couldn’t remember any details about it. But having one in front of her now was fascinating. She took everything in with interest and made some notes on her tablet, hoping today was the day they actually visited the incubation room in the hospital building. She’d caught a glimpse of it once before when they did a tour of the facility last year, but she had never been inside.
Once they were given some instructions about how to log into the nourishment system and explore the settings, the women were given an opportunity to talk. Rain and Cloud took turns putting in different commands to see how their actions affected the nutrients fed through the life cord. It was hard to imagine they may someday be in charge of monitoring a fetus’s quality of life. Holding that sort of power in her hands seemed somehow both enticing and revolting at the same time in a way Rain couldn’t quite put into words.
Cloud made a few more adjustments so that the machine changed its ratio of specific nutrients necessary for a fetus to thrive. While most fetuses needed basically the same components, the medical personnel had discovered that with some slight changes to the nutritional support, what may have been a fetus once deemed unworthy of life could potentially be salvaged, so it was important to understand the nuances of the program completely.
The machine was designed to simulate the forty-week incubation period in a matter of moments, so the girls would find out soon enough if their fetus would thrive or potentially be taken to the Bridge. Rain hadn’t set any of the levels, but she agreed with Cloud’s figures and was eager to see the outcome. Cloud had done this once before, earlier in the semester when Rain was still in her former group, before her promotion, so it made sense to let her take the lead.
“Why were you almost late?” Cloud whispered near her ear. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Rain assured her, watching Mother Swan as she walked through the rows, studying the settings on each pair’s monitor. “I just forgot my lab coat and had to go back for it.”
“You might want to put it on then,” Cloud said, eyeing the garment Rain had tossed over the back of her chair.
Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, Rain did just that. In actuality, she’d forgotten her lab coat, earlier and just now, because she’d hardly slept at all the night before. Mist hadn’t said a word to her since they’d come back from the woods, and whatever it was she’d brought from the house, she’d managed to hide it somehow when Rain wasn't looking. So she had no idea what it was or where it was. And her friend wasn’t talking. Now, her head was as foggy as the weather her roommate was named for.
Mother Swan came over just as their simulation was ending. The screen flashed a few times with the word, “Calculating.” Both girls held their breath, praying their pretend fetus was nourished enough to thrive and be deemed worthy of life. In a few seconds, the screen went green. “Congratulations,” Mother Swan said, a corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile. “Not only is your fetus worthy of life, you’ve gotten a 9 on the health scale. Well done, you two. If either of you is considering a career in NW, I think that would be highly suitable.”
“Thank you, Mother Swan,” Cloud said, smiling at the instructor.
“Thank you, Mother Swan,” Rain echoed, relief still rolling off of her. As soon as Mother Swan turned and walked away, she grabbed both of Cloud’s hands in hers. “You did it.”
“We did it,” Cloud corrected, but she didn’t seem quite so happy now that the teacher had walked away. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at Rain just as a different pair of students across the room had their screen go red and a robotic voice announced, “Failure to thrive.”
Rain shook her head. At least it was just a simulator. A few more students got a similar message, and Mother Swan announced, “This is not an easy task, students.”
“Can you imagine?” Cloud whispered, taking a step closer to Rain. “Can you imagine losing one, after, say, seven or eight months?”
Rain’s eyes widened. “No,” she admitted. She’d tried not to think too much about losing a fetus, even though she knew that would be part of the job she’d have to accept. That… and the rest of the darkness associated with the Bridge. “But… it’s just a fetus. It’s not a person.”
Cloud stared at her for a moment. “Do you think you’ll still feel that way when you’ve fed it and kept it warm and watched it dance and swim for eight months only to be told it has failed to thrive and must be taken to the Bridge?”
A lump formed in Rain’s throat as she considered what that would be like. While her lips didn’t form an answer, they didn’t need to. She was sure Cloud could tell by the look in her eyes. No, she couldn’t imagine that. Not at all.
Chapter Eight
Rain carried her bag in front of her, both arms folded across it, as if the tablet and other odd assorted items inside were of extreme importance. That wasn’t the case at all. She was completely lost in her thoughts as she made her way to IW, trying to concentrate on what she’d learned in the lab that day, not on what she was about to do.
They had done rounds, as she’d hoped, and they’d actually gone into the incubation room, or Nourishment Unit, as it was officially named. They’d watched the medical team work to bring the babies to thriving states and had been shown some that were likely not going to meet the criteria needed to continue to stay in the unit for much longer. Mother Swan had explained that once their levels reached below red level and stayed there for more than two hours, the technicians in the medical unit would “call” them, give them the cursed label, “failure to thrive,” and they’d have to walk them to the Bridge. One of Rain’s classmates asked if they’d be allowed to see the Bridge that day, and Mother Swan had said they were not ready for that yet. Rain was glad. She hoped she’d never see it.
While part of the day had been fascinating, learning how the incubators worked and getting to try her hand at keeping a pretend fetus alive, the entire situation had left her feeling unsettled, particularly after Cloud had asked how she’d feel taking a baby she’d worked so hard to grow to the Bridge. She hadn’t seen much emotion in the face of the techs who were losing their fetuses. In fact, when one of the students had asked how they felt about it, the women had shrugged and said, “It happens. Some fetuses are just better prepared for life than others. We can’t possibly allow them all to live, now can we?” The other students, for the most part, had seemed to think that was a fair answer, but for Rain, it had begged the question, “Why not?”
She had not asked it aloud, though. But she saw the same ques
tion in Cloud’s eyes. It was Rain’s understanding that, a long time ago, when Mothers used to carry their children in their womb, it was impossible to tell what child may thrive and which may be sickly and weak. Once a baby was born, it wasn’t discarded or taken to a place like the Bridge, no matter its state. Rather, the mother always tried to nourish the child after it was born, praying it became healthy if it were born sickly or deformed. The Motherhood dismissed these actions as a waste of time and energy now, but Rain couldn’t help but wonder why it was this practice had been discarded. Something about deciding who was worthy of life and who was not just seemed… wrong.
Rain reached IW about the same time as a few other girls who were walking together in a pack from another direction. They were laughing and carrying on, much like the girls she and Cloud had seen the day before. Rain smiled at them to be friendly, but she didn’t feel the same way that they did about IW. This was a task she was assigned, something else she had to complete, and when it was over, she would be happy to have a few days off so she wouldn’t have to think about it again. It was clear by the other girls’ attitudes that some women actually enjoyed it, but Rain didn’t understand that at all. If she could get out of ever visiting IW again, she’d do so. It seemed a little ridiculous to her that women were required to practice so many days a week leading up to their attempts at Motherhood. There wasn’t anything difficult or grueling about the act itself. It wasn’t something that seemed to require practice to her. But who was she to question the Motherhood? Until recently, it wouldn’t have occurred to her to do so. Now… she seemed to be questioning everything.
This was one task she had done mindlessly in the past that she thought she could walk through with her thoughts elsewhere easily enough. She went into one of the changing rooms and slipped off her uniform shirt, leaving her bra on, which was optional. She had heard some women liked to take it off so they could touch their breasts during their session, but she’d never done that before and didn’t see the point. She muttered to herself, “Maybe that’s what I’m missing,” but it didn’t change her mind about leaving her bra on today. She slid the short black gown on overtop, slipped out of her sneakers, and discarded her khakis and underwear, deciding to leave her socks on. Sometimes it was cold in IW.
