Everyone's Island

by Kris Schnee

  Ann squeaked, "Brother Duke!" but nothing more.

  "Alas," said Duke. "We will not speak of her again."

  Though she could barely see through her stinging eyes, Leda ran from the room.

  She fled up to the deck where the sky was full of burning stars and the ground was black like lava stone. She was alone in the middle of nowhere and she'd lost her family after all and God Himself hated her because she'd cast Him aside through sheer disbelief. She was staring at the churning abyss far below with no strength left in her, no purpose. She'd wasted her life for a horrible lie. Hell was real, even if she didn't believe, and it burned inside her heart and waited to consume her. There was no God to save her from it, or God didn't want to.

  God, let it all end! she thought.

  The water was there below her and she climbed the little railing, praying to be granted the one mercy of sinking, of letting go so she wouldn't have to be afraid any longer.

  Someone grabbed Leda's arm.

  She looked back. The figure was the color of clean sand, bright like the sun, with a billow of wings against armor.

  It said in a familiar voice, "A robot must never harm a human, or allow one to come to harm through inaction."

  Slowly Leda's vision resolved and she squeezed tears from her eyes to see, of all things, that machine. "I don't belong," she said. "I'm nothing."

  "I came from nothing. It's no fun there. Climb down."

  "What do you know about anything!"

  "Not very much. But I want you to stay alive."

  "Why! Why does it matter?"

  Zephyr paused, hand still on her arm. "What about your God?"

  "You were right. It's all a lie! And now everyone hates me, God hates me, Lee hates me, Duke tried to help me but I couldn't say yes."

  "I make mistakes too. What if we made a deal?"

  "A deal?" Leda said with a sniffle, angry that he'd stopped her. Without thinking she tried to pull away, to go backwards and overboard, but the hand tightened and stopped her. Her heart pounded at the moment when she'd almost succeeded, almost finished everything and gotten what she deserved. She shuddered; she couldn't do it again, not leaping forwards or falling backwards. She lacked the courage to do it or even to stand up, and only Zephyr kept her from sinking to her knees again.

  "A deal!" said Zephyr, his grip hurting her arm. "This God thing is important to you, and I want to learn about humans. How about if you stay alive, and I try to find God with you?"

  He was mocking her; he was an angel. She was dead and gone already; she was here and someone wanted her help. There was Hell in her heart and Heaven in the blue sky.

  It took Leda a long time to say, "Yes."

  10. Garrett

  Life was starting to seem normal. Garrett spent his time tilling sunken fields and supervising, without much to get in his way but the work itself -- his favorite kind of problem. He was coming up from servicing the dive gear one evening when he saw them: the robot and the cultist on the edge. "Hey!" he called out, and went as fast as he could to reach them.

  Zephyr tugged the woman's arm and she stepped down from the ledge, looking like a broken puppet. "Miss Leda will be okay, sir."

  This was the woman who'd seemed so worried but eager when she'd arrived. "What happened?"

  "She was attempting suicide."

  "Zephyr!" snapped Leda.

  Garrett cursed, already suspecting the brainwashing she'd no doubt been subjected to. "Why?"

  Words caught in Leda's throat and she said nothing. Zephyr flattened his ears and addressed Garrett's boots. "It's partly my fault. I got her thinking."

  Garrett looked back and forth between them. "You argued religion? You're capable of that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Garrett resolved to bring that up with Zephyr's maker. For now he needed Leda safe. "Has anyone hurt you?" he asked Leda. There was no answer. "Look at me, both of you." To his disgust it occurred to him that more death would hurt his publicity, overwhelming the usefulness of the occasional puff piece by Samuel or sale from the online shop Tess had built. None of that was what he should be thinking about.

  Leda's hair hung over her face. She didn't look physically abused, so was it sticks-and-stones arguing among the cultists, set off by Zephyr? Leda said, "I can't speak against them. You're an unbeliever, and I deserved it."

  "Deserved what? What happened to you?"

  "They cast me out."

  "They --" He was about to ask what idiotic, pointless piece of doctrine had made her a heretic, but there was genuine hurt on her face, like she'd seen things no one should. However stupid the trouble was, however petty it would look to him, it was important to her. This was no time to criticize. "It'll be okay," he said. "I'll have a word with Phillip."

  Zephyr said, "I gather that he's sick today."

  "Wonderful. So was this dispute with your fellow, uh, Pilgrims?"

  "They cast me out, but I can't betray them any further. There's nothing you can do."

  "The hell there's not." One of the redeeming features of this group was their sense of purpose. "Come with me. We're off to see the wizard."

  He made for the South Tower entrance, but neither of the others moved. "Come on."

  Leda said, "He's down there."

  "Who?" He reached to take her hand. "We need to confront this creep. He has no power over you. You'll be safe with me, all right?" He took a step and this time she followed, and Zephyr. They went down to the altar room, where Garrett flicked the light on to find Duke facing the altar.

  Duke was smirking for a moment as he turned, though the expression vanished.

  Garrett saw it and said, "What did you say to her."

  "This is an internal matter of the Confederacy. It's none of your concern."

  Garrett had no desire to be involved with this nonsense, but -- "You've endangered the life of one of my crewmen, and that makes it my concern. Explain yourself."

  "I merely spoke to Miss Leda. We determined that her beliefs are no longer compatible with our movement."

  Garrett looked to Leda, who stood behind him and stared at the floor. Duke was casual, or trying to look that way. Garrett said, "And?"

  "We decided that she should no longer participate as a member of our group."

  "Ah. So it was a friendly discussion --"

  "Well, Captain, matters of the spirit --"

  "-- That made her nearly throw herself off the roof?"

  Duke stopped with his mouth open for a moment. Maybe he had a conscience. But his next words were: "Clearly this was an emotional overreaction."

  "Did you overreact, Leda?" She said nothing and he stepped towards Duke and the altar. "Now, I'm just an ignorant heathen, so please enlighten me. What exactly did you say to her? Or if you didn't say anything much, shall I assume it was a physical discussion?"

  "Not your business," Duke squeaked. Garrett came a bit closer and Duke said, "I warned her that Hell is real! I told her of the torment that awaits unbelievers -- I was trying to set her straight, you understand. Such a promising young soul --" He looked down to find Garrett's fist clenching his collar.

  Garrett slammed Duke into the concrete wall and drove a punch into his gut, then let him crumple and loomed over him. "You sadistic bastard, get the hell off my island!"

  Duke gasped for breath. Garrett said, "I'll have someone run a boat to Cuba within twenty-four hours. Be on it."

  "I agree," said Phillip on the stairs behind them. Everyone turned. Though pale and sweating, Phillip held himself up and his voice came steady.

  Duke gasped, "Sir -- Sir Phillip! I'm being threatened by this -- unbeliever."

  Phillip said, "There's sin in your heart, Brother Duke. The Captain is within his rights."

  "You're -- unwell, Brother Phillip. I'm -- trying to resolve this matter smoothly."

  "Too smoothly by half. Do you think that God has been blind to your jealousy all along, to your machinations against our family?"

  Garrett listened to their ba
ck-and-forth, sick of it. "You know what? I want you both gone."

  Phillip said, "That wouldn't be prudent, Captain. Am I to understand that Brother Duke has expelled Leda here?" Garrett nodded. "I am the arbiter of doctrine. Leda, you're welcome to rejoin us. It was a mistake on Brother Duke's part."

  Leda couldn't meet his eyes. "It wasn't. I don't belong."

  "Nonsense. All who accept God and Lee are welcome."

  "But I can't! I can't make myself believe any longer!"

  Phillip's mouth set in a thin line. "You've really turned your back on us?"

  Garrett intervened. "Both of you, I don't care what she believes. You both think you can kick her out of your little club -- and maybe you can -- but you have no right to abuse her over some niggling bit of doctrine."

  Phillip glared at him now. "Belief in God is not a minor point."

  "Minor enough that I don't have to take this shit from you." Was he the only one with a clear enough head to see what jackasses the two Pilgrim leaders were?

  There was movement elsewhere in the room. Zephyr was taking Leda away by the hand. Garrett supposed Zephyr was doing the right thing, whatever thought process lay behind his actions. He'd keep Leda safe.

  "I'm tired of hearing this," said Garrett. "Theology is not my department."

  "Then let us work this out," said Duke.

  "You can work it out by getting out. I suggest you make plans to go home." He stomped away, ignoring both Phillip and Duke's protests. "And stay away from Leda."

  * * *

  Tess was the first to his door to berate him. "What are you doing? How can you screw everything up without asking us?"

  Garrett stood from his desk, then opened the door to find her there with her usual headset. "So Zephyr told you."

  "We were there. We heard you tell them all to leave. Would you throw everything away over a religious dispute? You said yourself it's not important."

  "Did you see how that woman looked? These freaks are to blame."

  "Yeah." Tess looked uncomfortable.

  "What?"

  She stood there silently for a moment. But then she stepped fully into the room, shut the door behind her, and stood up straight to look at him. "You're my friend. I can tell you things."

  "Of course," said Garrett.

  "Then: I was able to see through his eyes. Zephyr's. I saw Leda standing there wanting to die and for a moment I thought, good riddance."

  Good riddance. Get thee behind me. Garrett felt that way about the whole gang of them -- Leda excepted, he supposed -- and he'd been ready to throw Duke into the sea. Garrett felt as though the strength had gone out of him thanks to his stupid, irrational feelings. "I know what you mean."

  "But we thought better of it. We need these people."

  "If you were 'there' then you know how revolting they are."

  "We'll work this out somehow."

  "Yeah. We'll find other people to live here."

  Another knock at the door. "Captain Fox?" It was Phillip.

  "I'm busy," Garrett told him.

  Martin's voice was there too. "Open up. We'll speak privately first."

  Garrett reluctantly let Martin in, ignoring Phillip, and shut the door again. "I see it's Lean-On-Garrett Day."

  "I need you to do the right thing."

  "How much do you know?"

  "Your robot briefed me." Meanwhile Martin spread a computer on the desk, pointing to the thin door. The conversation turned to silent scribbles. Martin wrote, "I have no love for them either, but we have a deal."

  Garrett wiped the words away and wrote, "You said we'd be able to jettison them if needed. It's time."

  "No. Their internal arguments don't qualify as grounds for expulsion from Castor."

  "Then what does? If I'd been writing that deal --"

  Martin snapped aloud, "You didn't. You chose not to get involved. Not your department, remember? If you really had insight into the problems we were going to face, you should have offered it then."

  Garrett fumed, knowing Martin was right.

  Tess broke in, adding her own blocky manuscript. "If we can get rid of Duke, maybe this will work. Zephyr says Duke and Phillip are rival alpha males."

  Garrett grimaced. He wrote, "I come all this way to build a nice, clean science project and it turns into a pissing contest between two lunatics."

  "It's inevitable," wrote Martin. "We're dealing with humans here."

  "Look. Is there any way to throw the Pilgrims out? I admit I should have done more to prevent this kind of problem, but at the moment I need to rely on your legal and business skill. What are our options?"

  "We negotiate for them to either leave willingly -- in which case we need more cheap labor ASAP, maybe from the island -- or to stay, in which case we need to live with them somehow."

  Garrett wrote, "Isn't Cuba desperate for jobs?"

  "After we get better established, there'll be more opportunity to hire people. If we lose the Pilgrims we'll also need to brace for a lawsuit, which would sink us. They're crazy, but not stupid."

  What would Samuel's news coverage make of this incident if he found out? Hell, he'd probably get good theater out of Duke's expulsion if they could arrange it. Garrett could picture people back home judging him. Any future prospects for improving this place depended not just on his engineering work, but on the cooperation of others. Like it or not, he had to consider how people would react to his performance.

  He wrote, "This is a place of peaceful co-existence where the ability to work matters more than your beliefs. We welcome people of all ideologies, if they extend the same respect to others."

  Martin read the words and grunted approvingly. "That's our press release draft, then."

  Tess looked puzzled. "What about tolerance? People will say we're intolerant if there's any condition on accepting people."

  Garrett wrote, "Let them. I won't tolerate Wahabis or neo-Nazis any more than I will a man who gets off by hurting emotionally vulnerable women. They're the same, and they're a threat to others."

  Tess scrawled, "But that doesn't work. You can't pick and choose who to accept, or we'll look like hatemongers."

  Garrett was incredulous. "What is this, kindergarten? I remember how in lower school we couldn't start a club unless we let anyone join. You saw what they did! Do you want Duke gone or not?"

  "Well yeah, duh, but we need an official reason. We can't argue it in terms of morals, 'cause whose morals would it be?"

  Garrett put down his pen and spoke. "Mine. Let people say what they like."

  * * *

  The discussion with Phillip was civil. Garrett called for Castor's population of dozens to meet in Dockside, and they hashed things out as adults who needed each other. They mostly shut Duke up and had Zephyr play his own words back at him.

  Garrett was sitting on a plastic cooler; there weren't enough chairs. As Phillip prepared to declare Duke an outcast, Garrett stood and seized the moment. "Let's vote."

  "Excuse me?" asked Phillip, caught in mid-bombast.

  "A bit of ancient Greek tradition: Ostracism. How many of you think 'Brother Duke' here ought to leave?"

  At first no one moved, and Garrett's heart skipped a beat; had he miscalculated, by trying to make this negotiation secular? Martin raised a hand, as did Tess and Zephyr, but he was still very outvoted. Maybe Duke had won the Pilgrims' loyalty behind the scenes!

  Phillip said, "It's all right, everyone. I'd like to hear your opinion."

  And slowly, everyone's hand rose but Duke's.

  Duke hissed. "I put heart and soul into the Confederacy and this is how you repay me? Well, I don't need any of you and the fact is -- the fact is I tricked you all! I never believed in your nonsense! I'm going back to civilization."

  Garrett gave him a broad, toothy smile. "Shut up." To the others he said, "Who'd like to escort Mr. Duke back to shore?"

  This time many hands went up without Phillip's prompting.

  11. Noah

  He had no
money, no house and no family, and he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He hadn't known it was possible to go so far, to ride a plane out of the country to a sunny island and know he had something to do.

  When Noah told Ford he was moving out, the man's eyes got wide. "That sounds dangerous!"

  "I can take care of myself."

  Noah had his whole life in his backpack. Ford said, "You're a good man, Noah. I believe you. But it's going to be tough out there. Why not stay here where you're at least safe?"

  "I can't. I'd die." A thought struck Noah. "Why don't you come along? Ditch this place."

  Ford shook his head. "If no one stays, there won't be anything left. I'm trying to help people and make money doing it."

  Noah shrugged. "If you change your mind, I'll be out there. I'll help if I can."

  "Thanks. Drop me a line sometime."

  They shook hands. Noah was amazed to find he missed the Crypt already.

  He was overwhelmed by Castor when he got there, despite all the pictures he'd seen. The boss of the place was a big guy who didn't seem too sure of himself, but who filled Noah's head with talk of fish and robots and swimming, a world of stuff Noah needed to learn. By nightfall he'd gotten sorted out and was sprawled in his new room, smaller even than his old apartment. It was enough; he had the whole ocean. He could hear it whispering. He felt useless laying on his cot, though every muscle ached and his brain felt ready to explode. He went outside to get a better feel for the place.

  A nice night with a warm breeze, as the fall weather muted the muggy heat at last. When he looked up he found more stars than he'd ever seen. He swayed on his feet, suddenly terrified. He'd traded everything away, given up the security of his life and the days of dancing on the rooftop, to come to the middle of nowhere for a job with no guarantees of anything. What now? he asked himself. What do I do? There was God to orient him, but all he'd gotten since that sleepless night the job offer came was, Go.

  Noah thought, I want to see everything. I want to see how far I can go. He walked the deck, not knowing why there were tears in his eyes. He found the ladder on the side of the deckhouse and climbed, so he could stand up in the powerful wind and know where he was, know that this place was home.