by L K Hingey
Caleb watched the colors of the chamber flicker through the veil of the waterfall as he cocooned Kimber’s rigid body. Gradually, he felt her relax. Her heartbeat slowed and he could even feel a little heat radiating from her lower back into his abdomen. He had been resting his head back, tilted upwards to give her space until he figured she would want his head near hers, and now gently dropped it back down until his cheek touched her face.
Chapter VI
“I’ve never shown anyone this place,” Kimber said gazing out, calm enough now to start a conversation.
“Not even the other Auroras?” Caleb asked in surprise, keeping his voice low.
“No one. I’ve told my mother of this place... but I tell her I come here in dreams. Years ago, I would have brought her here. But since the sickness started, all I have are stories to help her to see.”
Caleb nodded. He had always liked Kimberly. There was an intellect and a grace that she seemed to carry, with or without eyesight.
Caleb did not pry into Kimber’s reasoning for bringing him here, he simply thanked her for sharing it with him. “I didn’t think beauty like this existed anymore,” he continued, and Kimber felt him grin. “And even though you’ve starved me,” he playfully squeezed her as he went on, “I’ll always remember this as the best day of my life.”
Kimber rested her head back on his shoulder and looked up at him happily. “Me too.”
They watched the lights sparkle around as they sat there, enjoying the simplicity of being next to one another. Kimber was tuned into the sound and the feeling of his strong heartbeat. It was a wonderful sensation, feeling the pounding in his chest through her own body and how it naturally synced her blood to its steady rhythm. The wind chimes kept swaying softly and melodically, and Caleb would have done anything to not disturb the moment. But while his heart may have been willing to fork over all the mushrooms in Inanna to not interrupt them, his stomach was not as accommodating.
They both heard his body growl low and angry. Kimber wasn’t sure if she had heard it or felt it first, and laughed out loud.
“Glad you think it’s funny,” Caleb laughed sheepishly. “I told you I was hungry!”
“I wish you could have felt the way that tickled. And you say I’m the ridiculous one.” Kimber cheerfully pushed his leg down between muffled giggles and leaned over to grab her knapsack.
She was able to snag the long strap with her fingertips and dragged it towards her. Caleb tried not to stare, but with her body outstretched like a dancer it was impossible not to notice how stunning she was. Even her individual scales themselves were remarkable. Instead of a typical reptilian scale arrangement, the Aurorean’s scales, which of course followed the pattern of the African Bush Viper’s, were dramatically leaf shaped. The Bush Viper had been nicknamed the dragon snake long ago and for a good reason. The snakes, along with their human grafts, truly did resemble the dragons in picture-books.
“Problem solved,” Kimber said as she pulled the sack onto her lap. She didn’t lean back this time, and although it disappointed Caleb, his stomach was grateful she stayed on task. She reached inside and pulled out the mushrooms and the jerky. She handed the jerky to Caleb to unwrap while she unpacked the mushrooms.
“Glad I brought these,” he said hungrily.
Kimber nodded. “I’m glad you’re working in the greenhouses this cycle!”
They divvied the snacks and used the leather wrappings as plates, digging in vigorously. They had shared lunches a hundred times as kids and were not concerned with eating daintily around each other. When Kimber slowed down enough to ask a question, Caleb continued to chew, thinking about his answer.
“The greenhouses suit you. Do you think you’ll choose it for a trade someday?”
“I don’t know,” Caleb replied slowly. “I really do love husbandry type work,” he smiled and gently bumped his bent knee into Kimber to make sure she did not miss his joke, before getting serious again. “But I miss the research and technology side of things. I want to be on the cutting edge of developing ways to make our people healthier and happier. I want to help figure out how to bring power, real power, into Inanna. I want to design ways to bolster our tunnel systems instead of just waiting around for the next earthquake.”
Caleb was speaking quicker now, with a mostly eaten stick of rabbit jerky in an expressive hand. “I have so many ideas of how to expand our agriculture capabilities, but I can’t be working in the greenhouses to bring them to life.”
Kimber’s interest was piqued. “Like what?” She had not meant to put him on the spot; she was just genuinely interested. She had never spent time brainstorming about the many challenges the city faced.
“Well for one, if we could get wood, we could create multiple levels in the greenhouses and double, or even triple, our production. We could pair with some amazing people on the surface, cough-cough, to create more skylights. We could even start a forest!” Kimber, who had been sitting cross legged, pivoted herself to face him.
“A forest?” she asked, with a hand on her hip.
“Why not?” Caleb said excitedly. “We have piles upon piles of vacuum-packed seeds!”
Kimber considered it, moving her hand off her hip to prop her chin up. The soil used in the greenhouses had been put there in preparation before the flare, so the soil had not been scorched by years of radiation. But if enough glass could be used to trap enough heat to condense enough water… maybe soil from the surface could be rehydrated and made useful again.
“Glass,” Kimber said softly.
Caleb nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! We need more glass!”
“LOTS of glass,” Kimber pointed out. She was mulling it over. “But, I think, you are right. I think it could work.”
Caleb smiled, the stick of forgotten jerky still waving in his clutched hand. “And that’s just where it would start. We could pipe in natural gas after finding enough material for the pipes. Of course, we’d have to find a safe way of venting it, so we don’t accidently snuff ourselves out, but we’d find a way to make it work. We could bring in magnets and copper and build giant generators, someday switching over to 100% solar-powered machinery. Down the line, maybe even in our children’s lifetime, they could have a real city with a real electrical grid!”
“Have you ever thought of running for council?” Kimber asked with a laugh.
Caleb flushed slightly. “I’m sure I’m not the first one to think of ideas like these. It’s been twenty years and all we’ve done is learn to plant mushrooms and build fires.”
Kimber realized that she might have made him self-conscious. “No, I am serious,” she said earnestly. “The council, and actually all of the senior trade masters, remember the time before the flare. Think of how hopeless things look from their point of view. And technically, all we could do for fifteen years was plant mushrooms and try to survive.”
Caleb nodded. She was right on those two points. The entire city had had to wait until the Auroras matured enough to safely handle the surface. Once they came of age, the city suddenly had a reach back into the tool bag that was their old civilization. So, they truly had only had five years of time to grow as a people. It was a lot to expect of a world that had just undergone its most cataclysmic event in history.
She was also right about the trade masters feeling defeated. To them, just surviving must seem like a triumphant victory. “I think you’d be wonderful,” Kimber said softly. She took her head off her hand and straightened herself, looking down.
Even more softly and slowly she added, “And maybe... maybe you’d help the other humans remember that the Auroras aren’t just slaves conceived to re-build humanity.”
Caleb choked in every way but literally. His jerky was abandoned on the cold stone ground as he reached out for Kimber’s hands. “What?” His eyes were dark with worry. “Did they do something to you guys?”
His voice pleaded with her to look up at him. When she did, she was momentarily lost at sea. The mixture of
care and intensity had made a storm brew deep in his blue eyes. Kimber had not planned on telling Caleb what she knew of the council’s pending announcement. She had only planned to take an old friend on a picnic in case it was goodbye.
Now she did not know what to do. She had not realized how much he had fully come into his own. His jovial nature, his intelligence, and his honesty had become one with his strong body. Kimber could feel how much he cared, and the words were playing on her lips.
“They haven’t done anything exactly...” Kimber started, trying to reassure him. She was not lying. Apart from the debatably too-rigorous demands of their daily lives, no one was physically hurting them. “But we have no say in the direction of our lives. Absolutely none. And I’m not just talking about the hard schedules... I know the humans are scheduled too. Not nearly as rigidly, but I know you have rules too. Anyhow, we can never choose a trade. We can never become a master in a trade. We can’t enter the government. We are told when to go up on the surface and what to bring back. That’s literally our only role. They have been slowly separating us from the humans, which is sort of interwoven into the whole scheduling thing, and we are even barred from going to visit our Mothers.”
“They stopped you from visiting your mother?” Caleb was shocked. “But Kimberly said she had just seen you during your last shed!” Kimber could tell that Caleb was getting pretty shook up, but she did not see a point in backing off the truth now.
“I have been sneaking in to see her every shed since the surface excursions started.” Kimber looked down, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “We were told that we may be bringing contaminants back, and with regular contact… that we could make them sick.”
“Oh Kimber,” Caleb’s heart broke. “It’s not your fault Kimberly is sick. That just happens to older people, especially those who have gone through what they did.” Kimber did not look up. Caleb had been one of the dozens of orphans who had been brought in before the tunnels were sealed, and it was hard for her to ask for sympathy from someone who had never gotten to experience the joy of a mother at all. A small tear rolled down her cheek, and Caleb gently wiped it away with his thumb.
“She told me when it started, that it didn’t matter where the sickness was coming from, that to lose a daughter would be a far more agonizing cancer of the heart.” Kimber continued painfully, “So, if you have ever wondered why I have kept such a distance...”
Kimber looked up in time to see realization and horror light up Caleb’s eyes. “You’ve been worried about me getting sick? They put you up there, week after week, in all that danger, and they have you worried that it could maybe take a few years off our lifespans?” Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t care about me maybe getting sick.”
“It gets worse than that,” Kimber said, glancing sideways. The words almost refused to come out of her mouth. Her mind was searing. She had not prepared for this charged of a day. “The council is going to announce some new ordinances tonight at the address... one of them is a ban on Aurorean-human mixing.” She finished her sentence and glanced back at him. What she saw brought another tear down her face.
Pain. She saw pure pain. Caleb didn’t even try to mask it. He was frozen in shock and disgust. “Why?” he whispered.
Kimber watched him as she spoke, not trying to inflict more harm but to make him understand. “To keep the Aurorean genome pure. To guarantee enough workers on the surface. To ensure the hope that your children can have a real city with a real electrical grid...”
Caleb could not take it anymore and had to get up. He knew Kimber had not delivered that final blow to be spiteful. That was the piece he had needed to click everything else into place. What he couldn’t figure out was if he was more outraged or sad. He paced under the waterfall and around the ledge, crouching where she had brought him the shrimp. “So much knowledge. So much ability. So much history to draw from. And we still make the same damned mistakes,” he hissed though gritted teeth.
Kimber was watching him, hoping that he didn’t decide to jump into the pool to cool off. She got up and quietly walked behind him, reaching out to touch his shoulders. He was blazing hot. Kimber swallowed the ensuing dizziness and held onto him. She had seen the Aurorean boys get into fights, but she had never seen raw anger like this. She had not done it intentionally, but the heat transfer acted like a grounding rod for Caleb. His temperature started to lower as hers rose, allowing his head to slightly clear.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He grabbed her hand, as tender as ever, and pulled her into a squat near him. “How can humans be so brilliant as to make this miracle happen...” he said as he reached into the water and pulled up a handful of the beautiful glowing lichen, “and not understand the damage that they will be causing all of our people?”
Kimber stood back up and ran her fingernails though his hair. She let him lean backwards into her legs. “I told you you’d be good for the government.” She smiled ruefully trying to lighten his mood. She then spoke matter-of-factly, trying to infuse as little emotion as possible into her words.
“The concept isn’t completely wrong. To protect human life here in Inanna, the Auroras need to maintain our tardigrade-level resistance to the UV and gamma rays. Not just for one or two generations, but for a very long time. I think the fear is if our DNA is diluted, we could lose our extra copies of protective genes. If that happened, we are of no use anymore.”
“You’d still have use. You’re still a person.” His eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of her nails in his hair.
Kimber smiled. “While I love that you see it that way, I wonder what the majority perceives. Our two species may coexist, but it has been years since we’ve actually mingled. I would not be surprised if more humans than not, have forgotten we are more than a science project. Not to mention that the Auroras are getting a little venomous.”
She was choosing her words carefully. “There has been more and more discussion about what to do as the council increases their grip. I fear this new proposal, and who knows what else may come with it, may be the camel’s straw.” Kimber had not gotten the old saying quite right, but it didn’t matter. Neither of them were ever going to see a camel. Or straw for that matter.
“I fear a boycott is likely,” she finished bluntly.
“But Kimber, new ordinances have to be voted in by popular vote. Proposals this severe will never pass. Don’t forget, we grew up knowing our only hope of survival depended on you. The council themselves even preached it. You guys are our living versions of fairy tales. Remember the comic books that the older kids gave us? The ones about that superhero group called the Avengers? Or the X-men? Think about it. There’s not one human in Inanna who doesn’t want shining armor or self-healing abilities.”
Caleb pressed on. “Why would we hurt what we love and idolize? I mean, am I a little jealous? Sure, I’m a little bitter that Zaak could murder me with his pinky finger... but that doesn’t make me hate the guy. Your Aurorean counterparts may be impossible to compete with, Kimber, but that doesn’t change how I feel about them. I respect every one of you for doing what you do for the good of the city. It’s the definition of heroism.”
A smile flashed across Kimber’s lips when Caleb brought up Zaak’s name. She was not surprised that the males had a complex with him. He was the strongest of all the Auroras but was funny and good natured about his size. His happy-go-lucky temperament only made the envy tougher to swallow, because it was impossible to dislike the guy. Kimber had personally always thought that Zaak was a bit of an airhead though and diverted the conversation back to their more pertinent discussion.
Kimber chuckled. “Okay heroism is a stretch, but here, look at it this way,” she paused gathering her thoughts. “How many times did the masses turn against the heroes when it was convenient? I read the comics too. If aliens weren’t pouring out of make-believe holes in the sky, the world defaulted to turning on their superheroes. Out of fear, jealousy, prejudice, hatred, misunderstanding...
the list goes on and on, but it happened every time.”
Kimber went on slowly building her case. “Fairy tales and other stories are usually derived from real life. Or are at least rooted in some kind of truth, right? So, let’s take it a little more historically. Right before the turn of the last millennia, the Dalai Lama himself was persecuted and forced to flee from his home. He was literally the people’s symbol of peace and hope.”
Kimber’s eyes were slightly glassy as she continued, the past coming alive in her imagination. “Or we can borrow some wisdom from one of the great religions. Jesus himself, in the Book of John, said that ‘a prophet has no honor in his own country.’ Want one of like a hundred scientific examples? How about the brilliant Leonardo Da Vinci, who had to exile himself from his homeland in the early 1500’s?”
“How do you even know all of that?” Caleb groaned in amazement.
“Must be my superhuman ability called curiosity,” she responded tritely, still working hard to get him to smile. Then she added softly, “When people get scared, they will vote for anything. They will do anything in the name of control and stability. History has proven it over and over. If the council decides they want to create a panic, they will have Inanna agreeing to whatever they tell them.”
Caleb did not seem convinced, but he let it go, instead asking the question he already knew the answer to. “So, if the Auroras decide to boycott... that means you go as a group?” Kimber nodded from above, knowing he could not see her.
“How long?” Caleb asked.
“Honestly... I don’t know. There’s plenty of canned food in the cities so we could survive for a while.” She shrugged. “I suppose we would form our own council and go from there.”
“What if your new council decides to never come back?” Caleb glanced upwards at Kimber, and then he decided to stand.
“We have loved ones down here, Caleb. We’d never abandon Inanna,” Kimber said a little taken aback, transitioning from looking down to looking up.
