by L K Hingey
Renee and Katherine crawled off the bed and out of the catacomb. Renee stooped down quickly to hug Kimber, whispering into her ear, “Hope he didn’t catch a cold in the pools!” Kimber’s eyes went wide. “Your hair dear,” Renee grinned impishly. Kimber laughed and grabbed the pillow off the bed and swung it at Renee. She was right; the roots of Kimber’s hair were still damp. Renee caught the pillow and tossed it back up on the bed.
The emerald Aurora and the dark blue Aurora sighed and sulked down the path to wait at the entrance. Raquel waved a quick goodbye and dashed down to the basins to check herself in the mirrors. Suddenly it was quiet again. Naomi walked over to Kimber and extended her hand, heaving her tired friend onto her feet.
“You are still on the hook to tell me the details after this shindig is over, you know that, right?” she told Kimber.
Kimber’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t think I have much of a choice, do I?” she said looking at her plump teal friend.
“Not even a little,” Naomi replied with her sweet smile.
They walked together to join the group at the mouth of the chamber. The twelve female Auroras were gathering like they had when the day began, only now the mood had changed, and their chatter was shrouded in apprehension. Mariam, Tegan, and Brie were talking in hushed voices to Kat and Renee, and they all turned to greet Kimber and Naomi with anxious smiles. Adelaide, Tauren, and Hanna ran up together, and behind them came Eve and Raquel.
The group of male Auroras walked down the path towards the female chamber. A distinct weight hovered on their shoulders as the two groups merged and little more than nods were exchanged. There were eleven male Auroras in total, and they looked as fierce, unique, and frankly as beautiful, as the females. Even though Kimber knew how patient and kind they were, she couldn’t help but to think that if she were human, she would not want to anger the group... male or female.
Zaak, with his characteristic barrel chest, stood tallest of the group at roughly 6’5”. He was yellow in color with a spotted black pattern. Most of the males sported patterns, stripes, or color blotches, which differed from the girls’ more uniform, but also more vibrant, colorations. As the two groups melded into one, the blues, greens, teals, purples, yellows, reds, and fiery oranges mixed with the intricate patterns of black, brown, and grey.
Zaak may have been the strongest of the males, but he was not the spokesman of their group. Aaron, one of Zaak’s closest friends, always seemed to drive the conversation. He was an intelligent and outspoken young man, who was as quick to temper as he was quick to be in the spotlight. His body was dark green with a light-brown speckled pattern accented by a lighter green chest. Kimber liked both Aaron and Zaak, but she was way too drained to compete with their energy right now, and she steered clear of the pair.
Two of the males were talking softly apart from the group, leaning against the wall of the passageway. Jameson and Hunter smiled as she walked up, and she greeted them like brothers. Jameson was a gentle soul with big sparkling brown eyes. He was tall and solidly built, brown in color with bands of bright yellow. Hunter, on the other hand, was a slender male of medium green with dark green stripes traveling vertically up and down his skin, instead of the more common horizontal pattern. He spoke with an endearing lisp so faint one may think they were imagining it and had one of the biggest smiles Kimber had ever seen.
“So, Raquel says there are plans in place?” Kimber asked the pair.
“Raquel always has plans in place,” replied Hunter. Then putting on an old English accent, he added, “Between her and Aaron, I’m surprised parliament’s not already overthrown.”
Jameson chuckled and nodded, “Yeah they’re all ready to fight. I guess we will see what happens, right?”
“Hey, nice bag,” Hunter noticed.
“Thanks.” Kimber smiled. “I, uh, I found it on the surface last week.”
“You do know that we can tell when you’re lying right?” Jameson cocked his head with a twinkle in his squinted eyes.
Kimber grinned. “Fine. I found a cow and sewed it together myself.” She delivered a swift punch to each boy’s arm.
“Ow! What did we do?” Hunter protested in amusement.
“Oh, that didn’t hurt you big babies,” Kimber laughed.
“Yeah, because she hits like a girl,” Jameson said to Hunter over Kimber’s head.
From the passageway came Susanne’s voice. “Alright dears. Time for us to file in.” She was letting them all know that the senior masters had taken their seats, and now it was their turn. After the Auroras, the teenagers would be escorted into the hall, and then after them, the children of the caverns. The air was suddenly charged, and a hush fell over the group.
Kimber looked at Jameson and Hunter with wide, worried eyes. The boys too, had become serious. They each affectionately squeezed one of Kimber’s shoulders and joined the center of the colorful gaggle for the short march down to the Rotunda. Kimber hung towards the back of the group. She felt odd and distant again, and more than anything wanted to talk to her mother.
As the group neared the giant chamber, the Auroras could hear the increase of the rumbling noise. Around two hundred people would be seated in the chamber today, and though everyone’s voices were kept low, the collective din echoed throughout the huge space. As was prescribed, the different groups of Inanna sat together. The six trades sat in triangular shaped sections, behind color-coded stacked rocks that indicated their assigned space.
The brightly painted rocks were stacked three high like they were every year, each one with a pebble on top. These rock cairns were laid out side-by-side for the entire length of the stage, with a fire bowl in between each stack. Blue represented the sciences, green was for agriculture, white was for the services, purple was for childcare, orange was for the engineers, and a mixture of all the colors was for the Auroras. After the ceremony, the children of the city would each be allowed to choose and keep one pebble.
The five members of the council were already seated, each wearing a chain on which a heavy metal pendant hung. The pendants were tarnished but still spectacular, and in the center of each was a bright red jewel. They were matching eight-pointed brass stars that represented the sanctity of Inanna. Instead of sitting in chairs, the citizens, to include the council, knelt on woven rugs to sit on to prevent the cold from seeping into their warm bodies. The rugs were thick, brightly colored, and traveled easily in neat rolls tied with thin leather straps. The only other rule for seating in Inanna was that the youngest sat towards the front.
The Auroras filtered into their section in no particular order. Since they were not susceptible to the cold, they did not carry rugs adorned with beads and leather. They simply knelt and waited. Kimber gently pushed her way towards the front and looked around for her mother. Two groups besides the council were given places of honor on the stage of the Rotunda. The space on the far left of the stage was the traditional place of the Mothers, and the space on the far right was reserved for the guild of the most senior masters.
Kimber did not see Kimberly anywhere, and the Mothers all seemed to be looking down. Actually, a handful of the Mothers seemed to be missing. Kimber’s heart leapt into her throat, and she looked around in panic for Caleb. She spotted him, calmly looking for her from the agricultural section. With a sigh of relief, Kimber sank to her knees. Maybe she was letting her imagination get the better of her. Caleb was fine, and her mother was probably just fine too.
She was seated near the rock cairns, just behind Raquel, Eve, Aaron, and a male Aurorean named Tristan. Around her knelt Jordan, Tauren, Hanna, and Renee. Glancing behind her shoulder, she spotted Naomi and Kat, who were seated near Jameson, Hunter, and a handsome male with dark dreadlocks, named Aeneas. Zaak was being polite by keeping his large frame towards the back, and the rest of the Auroreans were nervously seated in between. She tried to steady her breathing but could not swallow away the unease that kept rising up from the pit of her stomach.
“You okay, Kimber?”
the male Aurora Tristan asked.
Kimber really did not feel fine, and she looked at him a little wildly.
“I know, I counted the Mothers and the count’s off by four,” he said intuitively. “I’m sure there is a good reason.”
Kimber offered him a half smile. She didn’t know how he knew what was unnerving her, but she appreciated him not beating around the stalagmite about it. He returned her smile, and his steady energy helped calm her. They always seemed to be on opposite work/ training schedules and had never spent a lot of time together, but Kimber knew he had a reputation for being one of the most level-headed and intelligent of the Auroreans.
Some of the other Auroras had debated whether he was conceited, but Kimber had never personally gotten that impression from him. He was calm and calculated and had a cool charm about him. Where others might have seen arrogance, she saw a curiosity, as if he was constantly evaluating a situation, another person, or maybe even himself. He was extremely handsome, and Kimber found it hard to break away from his intense gaze.
Tristan was not an especially tall Aurora, but his body was a work of art. Unlike most of the males, who had subdued color variations with brilliant patterns on top, Tristan’s entire body was one vibrant, complex color pattern. His leaf-like scales were an amazingly random array of burnt-oranges, browns, yellows, greens, and even blues. Hazel, Kimber decided. Hazel would be the color to describe him.
Kimber could feel the concern radiating from his eyes, and she had the sensation, for a split second, that she was the only other person in the room. A stirring on the stage broke their gaze, and with a quick nod, Tristan winked and looked back towards the center arena. The council rotated the speaker each year, and this year was Councilman Nicholas Quinn’s turn. He was a clever Asian man, small in stature, and very expressive in speech. As he stood, a hush fell over the crowd. With his arms outstretched towards the citizens, he opened the 20th Inannian address.
Chapter VIII
“Good evening, Inanna,” Dr. Quinn said charismatically. “I hope this year finds you and yours in good health and contentment. We have much to celebrate and much to be proud of. We also have so much to be thankful for. On this day, twenty years ago, we had to do the unimaginable; we had to seal off our passageways to the world. We knew we would never see loved ones again, we knew we would never see the sun again, we knew we would never see oceans, or mountains, or green meadows... again. But we had hope. Hope that despite not having those things, we could still live lives worth living. That we could build a subterranean world where we could raise families. That we could teach our children how to be strong and selfless. We even engineered a new version of ourselves. A special, more resilient version of humanity.”
The councilman flashed a smile towards the Auroras and continued, “Today, I ask each citizen to reflect on his or her life. Are you living a life that has meaning here in Inanna? Are you giving back in every way that you are able, as if your every action shouts, ‘thank you!’ for deliverance? Are you teaching your sons and daughters the importance of productive and happy work? Our lives depend upon sacrifice. Our very existence depends upon your daily sacrifices.”
The Auroras shifted uncomfortably as Quinn went on, “And so, are you living a meaningful life? Are you sacrificing yourself, happily, for your sisters and brothers of Inanna? What we learned, those two decades ago, was that pride and pompous accomplishment got us nowhere. We learned that unlimited power got us nowhere. All the trinkets of the most advanced age in the history of mankind... got us nowhere. But Sacrifice... That is what got us here.”
“That- and an early detection system-” the councilman laughed, trying to inject some humor into his introduction. A ripple went over the crowd as they took a breath from Nicholas Quinn’s heavy opening. “As we enter into the next twenty years, we need to be focused on the preservation of our hard work. We need not to slow, but rather to tilt forward, embracing each new set of challenges with honor and grace. That is what today is all about. The future. Inanna’s future. Humanity’s future.” Mr. Quinn paused dramatically, letting his words sink in.
“With that, I will turn the floor over to our senior masters for snapshots of our past year, how Inanna is looking today, and the work that is yet to come.” The citizens clapped as Councilman Quinn bowed his head and returned to his kneeling run, sitting down gracefully.
A woman in her sixties walked over from the left side of the stage. With far less flamboyance, she greeted the city, “Hello Inanna. As you all know, I am senior master Farhana Ammar. I represent the sciences sector. I am pleased to tell you we have come a long way in building our labs and medical facilities. In this past year alone, we delivered seventeen healthy babies, and we were able to successfully build a series of mini-generators capable of powering our microscopes, without manual cranking. In the year ahead, we hope to be able to secure more critical medicine from the surface, while adding vital research equipment to our growing collection. Thank you for all you do for this city.” Dr. Ammar paused as if she was considering ending it there, and almost forcibly added, “Thank you for your sacrifice,” before walking back to her rug.
A man seated next to her rose and took the center of the stage. He was also in his sixties or seventies and spoke with a distinct Mediterranean accent. His hair was white, but his skin was a lively olive color. “I am Dr. Pollo Bianchi, head of the agricultural sect,” he greeted the cavern in his raspy foreign voice. “Due to the hard work of many citizens, we have been able to increase production of our shade-crops by 5% and our mushrooms by 7% in the past year, alone. All excess production has gone into the emergency stores and we are currently on a 4-year plan to continue adding all excess into these stores. This means the current rationing rate will remain in effect for every citizen.”
“Mr. Wayne...” Dr. Bianchi motioned to the small crowd of senior masters to where a lean silver-haired man was nodding, “has assured me the breeding program of the exotics is on schedule and that our zoo is healthier than ever.” Dr. Bianchi once again motioned to the senior masters to where a handsomely aging black man was bowing respectfully where he knelt. “Mr. Freeman is responsible for the successful continuation of the increase in the hen population for the 7th year in a row. Inanna’s goat herd decreased by two this past year, but Mr. Freeman assures me everything is being done to restore numbers in the upcoming year.”
The citizens knew a decrease in couple of goats was not a major cause for concern, but if more than a few perished, say in a blight of disease, there would be cause for panic. Milk, cheese, meat, and leather production depended on the survival of these animals. The city’s fate was vitally interlinked with its livestock. Rationing was a hot topic every year, and the disappointment was palpable after Bianchi’s announcement that the current rationing rate was to remain in effect. However, with seventeen new mouths to feed, and two less goats to help do the job, the math added up.
The olive-skinned man made no fuss about accolades and sacrifices. He bowed curtly and walked off to his mat where he sat abruptly. Next, a slender woman with white-blonde hair stood. She was dressed more smartly than most in the cavern and wore a pair of square spectacles low on her petite nose. She floated over to the center of the stage and smiled.
“Greetings from the services sector, Inanna. I am Dr. Jillian Cristiana. I’d like to thank each one of you for your service to your brothers and sisters. We may not all be in the same sector, but we all work with and for each other. We only have a few administrative notes to share today. First, we have decided to carry on with last year’s experiment. Breakfast will continue to not be served this year, and you can keep picking up your breakfast ration the night before, during supper in Rafinesque Hall.”
“Next, I’d like to personally thank our hospice team for helping six of our citizens transition from their life cycle into their death cycle... and to the families, I recognize and celebrate the life of your loved ones with you.” Dr. Cristiana bowed slightly. It was customary to giv
e both the birth and the death count every address, and every year both numbers were rising.
In a lighter tone, Dr. Cristiana delivered her last announcement. “And finally, we are pleased to announce that this past year’s production of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ was a hit! Thank you to all the ladies and gentlemen who helped produce that wonderful performance. Now, for this year’s theatrical production...” Dr. Cristiana paused for suspense.
This was another part of the yearly address that the citizens looked forward to, the revealing of the coming year’s theater production. Before the flare drove people underground, entertainment was everywhere. Comedies, dramas, television shows, movies, concerts, lightshows, and virtual reality experiences were a part of everyday life. But life underground was a much more somber affair. The citizens got one theatrical performance a year, put on by the services sector, to look forward to. It was always held here, in the giant space of the Rotunda.
“...This year’s play will be ‘White Snake.’” Dr. Cristiana dropped into a small curtsy and exited quickly towards the senior masters. Usually an excited tide of chatter bubbled up over the crowd discussing the coming year’s performance, but today, a silence fell so thick over the Rotunda that one could have heard a cave cricket’s chirp. The citizens who knew the premise of this traditionally colorful play, looked at each other questioningly and then looked sheepishly towards the Auroras.
The Auroras looked uncertainly back out at the humans. Was this meant to be a joke? Was the council using the city’s only form of entertainment as a tool to magnify the divide of the two species? Or maybe the services sector and the council thought they were paying some kind of honor to the Auroras... and the play was simply chosen for its beauty, comedy, and clever plot? No one seemed quite sure, and the chamber was charged uncomfortably.
Breaking up the awkward looks shared between the sections of painted rocks, the fourth senior master got up. She was tall woman with hazel eyes and a wide, sincere smile. Her ringleted curls faded from grey into brown, and she moved as if she had been carrying around a dozen dangling children all day.
