Pulse Point

by Colleen Nelson

  Lev

  “Guess this is your first balancing,” Raf said as we walked up the stairs to the elder’s dwelling.

  “Yeah. I’m nervous,” I said and then regretted admitting it.

  I knew Tar hadn’t picked Raf to be my mentor because he was a good listener. She’d picked him hoping some of his intensity would rub off on me. Raf was broad-shouldered, with hair cropped close to his scalp. Crevices ran along either side of his mouth, giving him a permanent frown. His lean physique was similar to many males in the City, but there was a toughness to him that only some overseers possessed.

  He checked the number on the door against the one on his hologram. A likeness of the elder floated in the air along with his name: Vic. He was nearly bald, with sunken cheeks and skin so pale and thin, the veins in his face showed through. There was no age listed. It didn’t matter how old he was, only that he no longer produced energy. Some starved themselves, sitting alone and wasting away, too weak to get help. Better to go this way, I thought, than to have to hide, afraid of the end.

  Vic opened the door as soon as Raf knocked. He was small and only came up to Raf’s shoulder. He knew why we were there; I could read the resignation on his face. “Will you come with us?” Raf asked, extending his hand. Those were the words we were taught. Make it sound like it is their choice, give them some dignity. The reality was that he had no choice. If he fought, we would give him a jolt with our stun gun.

  Vic nodded, loose skin trembling on his neck. I peeked inside the dwelling. It was dim and empty; he’d probably traded his belongings for a few last joules. The plants on his balcony were brown and wilted, long past the hope of producing food.

  I opened my mouth to say something, to reassure Vic that he’d made the right choice, but Raf threw me a look. It wasn’t our job to put him at ease, so I assumed the same stern expression as we marched along the walkway. Vic was slow, stumbling and leaning on us for support. By the time we arrived at the balancing clinic, Raf and I were almost carrying him.

  The room was sterile, empty except for one mat, covered only with a strip of rough hemp cloth and pushed against the wall. The balancer, his thinning hair so blond it disappeared against his pale skin, entered, holding a small bamboo bowl in his hands. He nodded to the mat. Raf and I were to place Vic on it, but his limbs went stiff and refused to bend. Through the transparent skin at his wrist, his pulse beat erratically.

  “Hush,” the balancer said quietly, nothing more than an exhale as he approached Vic. I shivered at the sound of his voice, but Vic relaxed, his arms hanging limply and his knees buckling. Raf and I positioned him so he sat with his back against the wall. Wrinkling my nose at the odour of urine, I looked down and saw he’d pissed himself. Was that normal? Raf looked unconcerned. Twenty years older than me, he’d probably led a hundred elders to this room.

  I pressed Vic’s wrist against the floor, gently. I didn’t want to break his bones but he needed to be immobilized. Holding his elbow down with my knee, I clenched my teeth and avoided looking at Vic’s face. My stomach churned and I tried to think about something else, anything else, than what I was doing.

  Raf reached for Vic’s chin, dragging it down so his mouth opened. Vic whimpered in fear, his body rattling. I struggled to hold his shoulder to the wall, surprised at the strength of someone who looked so weak.

  The balancer crouched down beside him. Despite the pallid colour of his skin, his lips shone red as they twisted into the slightest of smiles. “This will be over soon,” he said soothingly. He raised the cup of pulpy juice to Vic’s mouth and gave a nod of encouragement. “Freshly squashed white baneberries,” he articulated slowly. “You will feel nothing, I promise.”

  We all waited, the cup poised in front of his mouth. Drink it, I silently pleaded.

  The balancer tipped the cup and the liquid trickled into Vic’s mouth. But instead of swallowing, he spat it out, the poisonous drink spraying over the balancer, white and frothy. Vic thrashed out of my grip. One leg kicked and caught me in the jaw. I screamed with surprise and fell back.

  “Idiot!” Raf yelled at me. “Grab him!”

  I ignored the ache in my jaw and the heat spreading across my face. The balancer scrambled out of the way, wiping white baneberry juice off his face, and I lunged to secure one of Vic’s arms. Raf beat me to it, elbowing me out of the way and pinning the elder down.

  “Grab your stun gun!” Raf growled at me. I fumbled for it in its holster. “Never mind,” he grunted. “Hold him!” I straddled Vic, taking Raf’s place. Vic gnashed his teeth, the tendons on his neck stretched taut as he strained under me.

  “This could have been easier,” Raf grunted as he pressed down on Vic’s throat. I watched as the elder’s face turned purple and his lips and eyes swelled. Vic wasn’t fighting anymore.

  Blood pumped loud between my ears as Vic gasped and choked for air. “Lev!” Raf barked. I tightened my grip, but that wasn’t what he wanted. “You do it,” he commanded. “Balance him.” I looked at him horrified. “Put your hands here,” he nodded at Vic’s neck.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t. Balancings were meant to be dignified, the way we were taught in training. This was barbaric!

  “Do it!” Raf’s voice was a dangerous. “It’s an order.”

  I looked at the elder and then shut my eyes. The balancer came from behind and put his hands where mine were. Raf kept shouting at me and the room spun. I would have run if Raf hadn’t grabbed one hand and forced it on Vic’s windpipe. His trachea bulged but his pulse was slow. “Both hands,” Raf ordered. I did as I was told and squeezed.

  And squeezed.

  And squeezed.

  I kept my eyes shut, counting out Vic’s dying pulse until there was nothing.

  “He’s gone.”

  Raf pried my hands from the elder’s throat and I moved away, shaking. The balancer put his finger on the elder’s neck, checking for a pulse I knew wasn’t there. Raf rose and grabbed my shoulders, hauling me up. “They’re unpredictable. Even the weak ones fight back,” he said. “You can’t let your guard down. Not for a second!” He gave me a meaningful look. A wave of nausea rolled through me. I leaned against the wall to steady myself. “Take him away,” Raf said to the balancer. I thought he was talking about the elder, but it was my arm that the balancer tugged on. “Go back to the gymnasium. Wait for me there,” Raf called over his shoulder. I couldn’t get out of the balancing room fast enough.

  My legs trembled as I made my way to the gymnasium. As soon as Tar found out what had happened, she’d make me do another one. There was no room for weakness, especially in me, the offspring of a Councillor and Kellan, the City’s hero. But whatever robust genetic code they’d passed on had been rearranged into something else. I’d never be the person she wanted me to be.

  I made my way into the gymnasium and up to the balcony. I scanned the floor below hoping Kaia would be there, but instead my eyes landed on Mae. The oldest person in the room, she trudged along on the sensor mat. Even from where I stood, I could tell her hip bothered her. She held it and winced with each step. No matter how much energy Kaia shared with her, she wouldn’t be able to avoid a balancing much longer. Vomit rose in my throat thinking about Mae’s life ending the same way as Vic’s.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Tar approach. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the Citizens below, losing myself in the relentless pounding on the mats. “Lev.” Her voice was like a slap. “Come with me.”

  I wanted to shake my head and tell her to leave me be. I should have ignored Raf’s orders and gone to my dwelling. The last thing I needed right now was her reprimand. But she gestured for another overseer to take my place on the balcony and shot me a withering glare. To defy her would mean punishment. I had no choice.

  We descended to the walkway and followed the stream, not in a relaxed stroll, but with purpose. Tar had a long stride and her arms swung at her side
s. At the sight of her scarlet tunic, Citizens darted out of the way, bowing with deference as she sliced through them.

  Tar led me across a bridge over the field: rows of rice, the thin, reedy stalks steeped in water would soon be harvested. Insects were more plentiful in the garden and fields, so we kept birds to regulate their population and pollinate the plants. All small, the birds flitted, filling the space with their high-pitched songs. A bright yellow one with green feathers on its wings flew low and then darted through the door that Tar held open for me.

  I hesitated, wondering why she’d brought me to the aviary. Tar nodded for me to enter. Two dead trees, left over from before, stood tall and gnarled in the centre. Nests sat in the crooks of branches and knotholes, birds twittered and called to each other.

  Tar closed the gate after her. Its clang sent down a flurry of activity and downy feathers. “Come here,” Tar said. She’d stopped beside one of the trees. What was left of the bark was covered with layers and layers of splotchy, white bird droppings. The ammonia smell burned my nostrils, but Tar wasn’t bothered by it.

  She pointed to a nest, compact and the size of her palm. Within it, three newly hatched birds. Without feathers, their miniscule organs and veins glowed through translucent skin. Eyes closed, newly formed beaks opened instinctively, calling with silent tweets for food.

  “They only hatched yesterday,” Tar told me, her voice a hushed whisper.

  I looked at her, surprised.

  “I come here often. It calms me,” she said in answer to my unasked question. She turned back to the nest. “They’re totally helpless.” She reached into the nest and pulled out a bird. Its claws dug into her finger. “Raf informed me of the balancing.”

  I bowed my head as shame and guilt spread through me.

  “It’s hard being an overseer and it wasn’t your first choice of a career; I know that.” Tar held the bird up close to her, peering at its helpless form in her hand. “But balance has to be maintained. It might seem harsh, but the City depends on it.” She paused, waiting for me to look up. When I did, her brown eyes burrowed into mine.

  “To show weakness, remorse, empathy,” she shook her head, “to the elders will only weaken us. The City began with strict rules. It is up to us to enforce them. With a population of three thousand, how many elders do you think the City can support? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? And who determines who they are? Can you think of what would happen if every Citizen wanted their elder spared from balancing?” She shook her head. “There are only so many lives the City can support.”

  I followed her gaze to the bird on her palm. She closed her fist around the body, the tendons in her hand bulging as she squeezed. When she opened her hand, the bird lay lifeless on her palm.

  I stared at her. My gut rolled with nausea.

  “I don’t want to hear about another incident like today.” She dropped the dead bird at the foot of the tree amongst a mound of discarded feathers. She tilted her head, as though appraising me. An unfamiliar brightness filled her eyes. “The City is changing. The Citizens need a leader. One leader.” I stood frozen when she reached up to trace the contour of my cheek, her fingers cool. “It will be me. And when my time is up, the role will pass to you. Your future in the City could be secure, but you have to want it. You have to show others that you are willing to make the hard choices. The choices other people can’t make.”

  I stood motionless in front of her.

  “Be who you were meant to be, Lev. Be a leader,” she said in a dangerous whisper.

  Every piece of me wanted to scream the truth at her. I would never be the person she wanted me to be. I wasn’t her. I wasn’t Kellan. I wasn’t a leader.

  But all I could do was nod.

  The female bird returned, dropping food into the mouths of her babies. The two survivors fought over a worm that was deposited in the nest, oblivious to their sibling lying in a mangled heap on the ground below.

  Kaia

  The Sy of yesterday, so excited about the feel and taste of the grape, was gone when I returned to our dwelling after work. He didn’t acknowledge me when I joined him on the balcony. Instead, he stared at the Mountain in the distance, quietly mumbling to himself.

  I hated when he slipped away from us, but it was better than when he flew into rages, shouting that he’d do it all differently if he had the chance, that he’d made a mistake. He wanted Raina to come back. Mae was the only one who could calm him down. She’d whisper that it wasn’t his fault. Raina was gone and there was nothing anybody could have done to help her.

  We should have reported him to an overseer. His unpredictability made him if not dangerous, then at least a concern to the City. But if we did, we were condemning him to balancing. And the truth about my genetics would be revealed: deficiencies on both sides. No, our lives were intertwined. My survival in the City depended on his.

  Backing away from the balcony, I collected everything I needed to prepare dinner. He continued to stare, oblivious to my presence.

  “Kaia? Sy?” Mae burst in, a damp sheen of sweat clung to her face. She’d been to the gymnasium, even though I’d told her it wasn’t necessary. I had enough energy to share with her.

  “Did you see it?” she asked, breathless. Her eyes were filled with worry, eyebrows drawn together.

  “See what?” I asked, shaking my head. After work, I’d made one stop at the market, and then came back to the dwelling. A glistening pot of honey sat on the counter. A special treat for Mae, we’d dip Sy’s strawberries in it later and lick it off our fingers. Though it was worth as much energy as some people produced in a day, its purchase had depleted none of my joules.

  “The Council’s news!” she hissed, casting a furtive look at Sy. She waited for me to pull up my hologram and read it for myself, but if I did, she’d see that it was malfunctioning. What if she insisted I tell an overseer?

  I’d been careful not to draw attention to myself, although the honey had been an extravagance. That morning, I’d run for an hour and a half, enjoying the sensation of running because I wanted to, not because I had to. Having unlimited energy allowed me to help Sari and Mae; I wasn’t being selfish or indulgent. As long as I didn’t arouse suspicion by doing anything stupid, why did I have to tell anyone?

  “Can’t you just tell me? I want to get dinner ready.” I grabbed some fresh vegetables out of the basket and fussed with utensils, hoping to look busy enough that she’d let me off the hook.

  “Energy sharing has been suspended.”

  Her words caught me off guard and the squash I held slipped out of my hands. It hit the floor with a sickening thud. “What?” I couldn’t have heard her correctly.

  “It was sent out as I left the gymnasium. I thought you would have seen it.” She peered at me. News like this would have spread through the City in a matter of minutes. Of course, she’d think it was strange that I hadn’t heard.

  “But, that means…” the reality was too horrible to say out loud. Without energy sharing, every elder was in danger of balancing. “Why?”

  Mae shut her eyes and winced, one hand flying to her hip. “Because they can,” she said, bitterness lacing her words. When she opened her eyes, they were wet with tears.

  I pulled Mae into a hug. She rested her cheek on my shoulder. Her thin frame shook with silent sobs, her grey hair soft against my chin. I glanced to the balcony where Sy stood, still staring at the Mountain. Had he heard the Council news? Is that why he’d slipped away?

  Living with a broken pulse point had left me stranded in my own City. What else had I missed? But telling an overseer now would mean admitting I hadn’t reported it right away. The thrill of having unlimited joules had blinded me to the dangers of being disconnected. I couldn’t think about any of that right now though. All that mattered was Mae. And holding her tighter, I wondered what I would do without her.

  “I’ll talk to Lev. Maybe he
knows what’s going on, or can speak to Councillor Tar for us. Maybe they can make an exception.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded naive. Lev held no sway with Tar.

  But they gave Mae some hope. She pulled away from me and nodded, wiping her eyes. “I always thought I’d take the news better. All these years,” her voice cracked. “I knew the day would come, but I still don’t feel ready to go.”

  Clutching her hands, I held them to me and blinked back tears. I wasn’t ready for her to go either. “Lev can help,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  ⌓

  Locating Lev proved harder than I expected. The two-day-old reports in my ear were useless, so I silenced them. But without the constant banter, I felt like my head was in a dome of its own. Everyone moved around me with knowledge that I didn’t have. I’d been born in the City, yet without my pulse point to call up at a moment’s notice, I was lost. I had no way to locate Lev, except to search the spots he might be.

  First I went to the gymnasium, then to his dwelling, but he was at neither. Shaking my head in annoyance, I realized that if I wanted to find him, I’d have to ask for help. A somber mood hung over the Citizens in the kitchen. They worked silently with none of the usual chatter. “Sari,” I whispered a greeting. “I need your help. I have to find Lev.”

  Even Sari’s bright eyes looked dull. “You heard,” she said, frowning.

  I nodded. “I’m worried about Mae. I need to talk to him.”

  “It’s still broken?” she whispered. I wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or judgement in her voice.

  I swallowed back a retort. She was the one bribing an overseer so she could keep her hair. “I can’t tell anyone now.” And it was true. As long as Mae was in danger, I needed to be able to give her as many joules as possible.

  Sari hesitated and for a second I thought she wasn’t going to tell me where Lev was.