Rebels of Eden

by Joey Graceffa

  “Yeah, but some of you do. I heard the others agreeing with him. They think everyone in Eden is somehow subhuman. Weaker, less evolved than the people of Harmonia. Sure, we have a lot of technology, but that doesn’t make us bad people. How else could we live in a closed system without the efficiencies technology brings?”

  “Yeah, but a lot of people here are suspicious of it,” Mira says.

  “Not Carnelian. And you have more technology than I first realized. Anyway, Zander doesn’t understand! If everyone inside had the chance to live like this, I know they would!”

  “Easy there,” Carnelian says. “You might be right. You know the city people better than we do. But since it isn’t going to happen, why worry about it?”

  His words serve to shock me out of a complacency I’ve slowly, almost unknowingly settled into. I’ve been seduced by the peace of Harmonia for too long. I can never let myself forget that inside of Eden, a struggle rages, even if the brainwashed victim-citizens don’t know it. It is a war for their freedom and self-determination, and I have to fight for my family and friends inside. They would do the same for me.

  “If you don’t stop worrying about Zander, you’re going to be too stressed to do well tomorrow,” Mira tells me as we stroll toward Harmonia. We’ve fallen back from the others, and now we three walk alone. “You need something to distract you. Let’s do something special.”

  “I thought that’s what the Wolf Moon festival tonight is for,” I say.

  “Yeah, but that’s for everybody. We should do something special, just us two.”

  “Hey,” Carnelian protests. “Why not us three?”

  “You already passed your test last year. You’re a grown-up.” She says it in a mock-solemn voice, as if he’s decades older than us instead of just one year. “Come on, Rowan, what shall it be? After tonight we’ll have all kinds of responsibilities. We’ll have—ugh!—jobs!”

  I’m actually pretty excited about getting my “job” after the test tomorrow. Life in Harmonia is idyllic. With no money, no conflict, and an abundance of food, most people’s workday is down to about two or three hours of absolutely necessary tasks. Some of it is tedious, the household and community tasks we used to assign to bots inside of Eden: cleaning, tidying, refuse collection and recycling, and building maintenance.

  Other things are more interesting: gardening, gathering, textile work, and cooking. I’ve found I have a knack for cooking. In Eden, all of our food was either created from algae grown in skyscraper-like urban farms, or chemically synthesized proteins, carbohydrates, and fats. Everything was ready-made in factories, or assembled swiftly and efficiently by domestic bots, so there was no real need to cook at home. I thought everything tasted pretty good back when I was still a prisoner in Eden. Then I came here.

  Oh, great Earth, when I think of those poor people in their desert-ringed prison knowing nothing but the artificial taste of synthetic strawberry, it makes me want to cry. For my first real meal in Harmonia, Mira (then unknown, just a friendly face) brought me a dish of oats topped with the tiniest, sweetest wild strawberries. It made everything I’d eaten so far in my life suddenly taste like dust. With real ingredients, grown in our own gardens, harvested wild from trees, cooking was a pleasure. Mira and some of the older women taught me how to use the communal solar cookers, and I always volunteer to help whenever I can.

  But it is other jobs that really pique my interest. Harmonia may seem like a truly natural place, with its orchards and gardens, but there is technology here, too, mostly subtle and hidden.

  When EcoPan first released me from Eden, when I awoke in that flowery meadow on the edge of the forest and was greeted by my mom and a few other representatives from Harmonia, I was practically hysterical, insisting that they help me back in to rescue Ash, Lark, Lachlan, and the others.

  They’re just right over there, I kept shouting, pointing across the meadow to the scorching desert, beyond which the thicket of giant synthetic bean trees were a smudge on the horizon. If we get the right equipment maybe we can get back inside. At least send them a message, let them know the outside world is alive and ready for them!

  Oh, how I ranted and pleaded with them. They were patient with me at first, but after I broke away and tried to run back into the desert they tranquilized me. I remember being carried, a sense of almost imperceptible movement . . . and then I was in Harmonia. I had no real idea how I traveled, or how far.

  Once in Harmonia, I couldn’t settle down. How could I be happy when loved ones were still in Eden? How could any of the outsiders be content when their fellow humans were imprisoned and experimented on?

  I found sympathy, but no help.

  The natural-born outsiders couldn’t see how I could think about going back, even to help my friends. You earned your way out, they didn’t, I was told. They seemed to think the residents of Eden were some kind of subhuman, base and unworthy. People in Harmonia didn’t like to talk about Eden at all, except as an object lesson. That’s what we will be forced into if we ever cease to respect the Earth, they said. If we can’t be self-governing and respectful, we’ll have to be prisoners.

  Even those few who EcoPan had freed from Eden seemed to have no real desire to help their friends and family stranded inside. They just seemed grateful to be free themselves.

  I didn’t let that stop me. No one would tell me where Eden was, so every time I went out, I explored as far as I could. I found no signs of it. As far as I knew then it could be ten miles away . . . or thousands. I had no way of knowing.

  The elders put up with it for a while—it was usual in newcomers—but after I ran away for two days seeking any signs of Eden, they put me in intensive counseling to help me get over what they called my unnatural obsession with my damaged past. It was a form of psychosis, the counselors told me.

  Maybe they didn’t put wires in my brain. Maybe they didn’t change my vision so I couldn’t see the truth, or implant new memories. But I could see the intention was fundamentally the same: Accept the way things are now, or else we make life here very unpleasant for you.

  No one ever spelled it out. There are no formal laws in Harmonia. For the most part, there don’t need to be. There is plenty for everyone, and it is such a close knit community that everyone would know instantly if someone stole. The rare conflicts are quickly settled by the elders. Yet it was implied that some kind of punishment would certainly await me if I didn’t give up my quest to return to Eden for my friends.

  So after a struggle, I now play along. Enjoy being one with the environment. Forget everything that happened to you, the people you left behind. Be a good little member of our idyllic society.

  I’ve had a taste of utopia before, and it wasn’t as perfect as it appeared. Now cracks in Harmonia are showing. Still, it is far, far better than Eden, and my friends should be here.

  I remember something that Zander said. “What did he mean we’ve seen it before? What story was he talking about?” It didn’t sound like he was just talking about a thousand years ago when humans almost destroyed the environment.

  Mira and Carnelian exchange a look. “We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Carnelian begins.

  “Well, it’s not so much that . . .” Mira says.

  “More like no one wants to talk about it,” Carnelian concludes.

  “So we don’t. It happened a long time ago.”

  I wait, and finally, reluctantly, she tells me.

  “It was when my parents were about our age. Someone came to Harmonia, someone from Eden.”

  “We don’t know that,” Carnelian interjects.

  “Where else could he have been from? Anyway, we didn’t get notice from EcoPan, so we’re guessing he crossed the desert somehow. We found him one morning wandering in a field nearby, and took him in. We fed him, gave him clothes, and then that night . . .” She breaks off, swallowing hard.

  “What happened?” I prompt.

  “He killed the family he was staying with. The parents, the
grandparents, the three children in the household. He used some kind of gun that dissolved part of their bodies. It was terrible. Only one member of the family was spared, a young man who was out all that night courting his sweetheart. In the morning he found them, and the outsider was gone.”

  I don’t even know what to say. How could someone do something like that? Why would someone cross the desert, find this wonderful place, and then commit such a terrible crime?

  “There’s something else you should probably know,” Mira adds. “The young man who wasn’t killed along with his family was Zander’s father.”

  “So Zander grew up with stories about someone from Eden killing his ancestors?” No wonder he hates people from Eden. “Whoever did that was a psychopath, though. Or, maybe they had been reprogrammed? I don’t know. But how can he really think people in Eden are all like that?”

  “I just know it affects him deeply,” Mira says. “He hates everything from Eden, and he hates technology. So watch your back.”

  I’m silent for a moment, then Mira says brightly, “Enough of this! You need a distraction. I know what we can do.”

  “What?” both Carnelian and I ask simultaneously.

  “Not you, love. You have to work. This is just for Rowan.”

  Carnelian sighs dramatically and says, “Work! No rest for the wicked.”

  Mira throws her arms around him and kisses him. “I know you love your job, so don’t expect any pity from me! And maybe after the Passage Test I’ll make up for it by . . .” She whispers something in his ear that makes him blush.

  “On that note, you ladies have fun, and I’ll see you tonight.” He leaves with a huge grin on his face.

  “So,” I ask when we’re alone. “Where are we going?”

  She smiles at me knowingly. “You haven’t been here long. There are a few secrets you haven’t learned yet.”

  “Secrets?” I ask eagerly.

  “Just wait, you’ll see.”

  I get excited as she changes course and leads me away from Harmonia. Although logic tells me she’s not talking about anything that might help my plan, I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation as I’m let into each detail about my new home. Anything could prove to be the clue that will help me achieve my goal of getting back to Eden.

  We walk through a trackless forest. A couple of times she stops, checks the angle of the sun, and backtracks before resuming her course. “I don’t come here often,” she explains. “I don’t want to risk anyone else finding out.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s nice to have a place that’s just for yourself, isn’t it? Ah, here we are.”

  We’re standing in front of a dense tangle of rhododendrons. I know these plants—large shrubs or small trees—tend to grow in a tight, impenetrable thicket. As Elder Night said when teaching Mom and me, if you come across rhododendrons, go around, not through. People have gotten so stuck and disoriented in rhododendron thickets that they’ve actually had to be rescued.

  “Now turn around and close your eyes.”

  I do, and hear the rustle of foliage, then to my surprise the clink of metal and what sounds like a latch unlocking.

  “You can look now.”

  I turn and see her dark, freckled face peering out from the bushes, a frizz of her hair snagged on a branch.

  She beckons me, excited, conspiratorial, and she reminds me of Lark. I feel my throat tighten as I remember the abandoned tower Lark took me to, her special hideout where she could think her own thoughts, dream her own dreams.

  Mira holds the branches aside for me as I step through. There’s a stone wall with a door fashioned out of some unknown material. I’m tingling with excitement. Can this be some secret that will help me with my plan?

  As soon as I’m inside, I forget about my scheming, lost in the wonder of absolute beauty. Mira has taken me to a secret garden.

  Hidden behind the double fortress of rhododendrons and walls, the garden is open to the sunlight above, and holds the most miraculous collection I can imagine. Even the nightclubs of Eden, with their fake flowers in neon colors, couldn’t compare with this spectacle. I grew up with steel and concrete and symthetics—I am still in awe over a blade of real grass. Imagine how I feel seeing more species of plants in one small space than I’ve seen so far in all of Harmonia.

  “What is this place?” I ask in amazement.

  “I’m not sure, but it’s old. Really old.”

  “Pre-fail?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe. But look, there are plants growing here that don’t grow anywhere in the forest. Things I’ve never seen in the wild.”

  It’s true. There are exotic, delicate blossoms, fragrant buds that don’t look like they’d survive in the forest or the fields. “This garden was made just for pleasure,” I say. “Just for the love of plants, of beauty.”

  Strange as it may seem, this goes against the beliefs of Harmonia. We’re supposed to live in harmony with nature as much as possible, not control it. We don’t have livestock, even for milk. No domestic bees for honey, only wild ones. No pets. And though we grow vegetables and fruit, we don’t have any gardens that aren’t specifically useful. They have edible plants or medicinal ones. Growing something just because it is pretty is frowned upon. I find that very strange. Why wouldn’t beauty be as important as food? But I’m still learning all the ways of Harmonia.

  Mira pulls me in deeper. I see white statues of elegant figures—slim girls, boys with cloven hooves, a timid gazelle. A lizard with a blue tail crawls sinuously across one of the statues. Jewel-colored beetles crawl and buzz from plant to plant.

  There’s a fountain in the center, with a statue of a man sculpted in marble. He holds one hand out in benediction, but the other is curled in a fist. It looks almost like part of the Sign of the Seed, the gesture we make inside of Eden to remind us about the magic of life, of what we lost. But it also looks like a threat. Or maybe like someone clutching something possessively to their chest. I can’t be sure.

  The marble man is tall, lean, with the most benevolent eyes that seem to follow me. With a gasp I realize who it is.

  “Aaron Al-Baz!”

  Mira follows my gaze. “Really? I thought it must be a famous horticulturist, whoever designed this secret garden.”

  “You’ve never seen a picture of him?”

  She shakes her head. They have a library, with both written and digital records, but most things are taught orally, the wisdom passed down through stories and demonstration. Harmonia kids don’t sit in classrooms.

  “Well, no wonder his garden is so well taken care of,” she says. The fountain is pristine, just like the rest of the garden. The water in the fountain bubbles and gushes in decorative splashes in an algae-free pool. Through some trick of engineering Aaron Al-Baz seems to walk on water, unsupported.

  I turn away. Seeing that vile man who killed so many people—and who continues to delude so much of humanity centuries after his death—fills me with disgust, and taints even this beautiful place. Still, it is indeed beautiful, and I look at the flowers instead. “You do all the work?” I ask.

  She grins, a gleam in her eye. “Look closer at the bugs.”

  I peer at the tiny walking and flitting jewels. At first they seem like regular beetles. Then I notice the uniformity of their movements . . . and the fact that they seem to be working. Not just eating, or protecting their territory, or the things that insects normally do. No, these little bugs are tidying up! I watch one prune a dead leaf. When it drifts in a gentle zigzag to the ground, another beetle is waiting to grind it into tiny bits so it can more easily join the soil. Azure water bugs pluck detritus from the fountain and scour the sides.

  “They’re bots!” I gasp, and she nods. “I didn’t think this kind of technology was allowed in Harmonia. The elders are always talking about the need for labor, to appreciate the responsibility of being stewards of the environment. They say that if bots take care of things we’ll take them for granted.”


  I puzzle over it as I walk around the garden, marveling at the beauty around me. “No one else knows about it?” What would the elders do if they knew? Would their beliefs in keeping nature unfettered make them destroy this place? I understand that Harmonia has certain rules for a reason. I mean, we humans messed things up pretty badly before. But how strict are they? What would the elders do to keep their laws intact?

  “No one knows, not even Carnelian. My father and I found this place, and this was our special spot. We didn’t even tell my older brothers and sisters. I’m the youngest, you see, and Dad knew I always felt a little like the others always got the best of everything. He made sure this was a place just for us, something that made me feel special.” She sniffs, and pushes her hair back from her face. I know her father died just a year ago.

  “Then why did you tell me now?” I ask, curious.

  She takes a deep breath. “Well, part of it is that you’re hurting, more than I’ve ever seen anyone hurt before. People here tend to be happy. Even when my dad died . . . it was the most awful thing in my life, but it was part of the natural order, you know? It tore me apart, but . . . I don’t know if I’m explaining it right. We live, we die. We rejoice when a baby is born, and we mourn when someone dies. It is part of nature, the endless cycle, and that makes the pain somehow easier to bear. Like when winter comes—we miss summer, but we understand what is happening. The pain you feel, though . . .”

  She breaks off as she struggles to understand what I’ve been through. I’ve told her a lot, but not everything.

  “I’d think you’d be happy here, being free from Eden. You have nature, your mom . . .”

  In a way I am happy. I’d believed that Mom had sacrificed her life to save me. But EcoPan was so impressed at her dedication in keeping me safely hidden for sixteen years, and her determination to give me a real life beyond our courtyard, that it plucked her from near death.

  Mom told me how she’d lain bleeding on the street, certain death was only moments away. She remembered a greenshirt kicking her in the ribs with his boot, saying, “She’s not going to make it, load her up,” while another hauled her up and threw her painfully in the back of a robot transport. I’m still alive, she tried to tell them as the bay door shut on her and the transport lumbered toward the morgue. She told me about the shock of having been shot—really shot—in the first place. The greenshirts usually used stun weapons. She couldn’t believe they considered her crime of hiding a second child to be worthy of lethal force. Chief Ellena must have issued new orders around then, authorizing deadly force to anyone accused of that crime. She must have just been starting to experiment on the second children.