Rebels of Eden

by Joey Graceffa

  “Oh bik!” I say aloud. I just realized how long I’ve been down here. I want to explore more, but my mom and Mira must be frantic, thinking I’ve drowned!

  As I hurry back to the dome, I see a clear panel that gives me a view of the city below. The glass is a bit grimy, so I rub it with my sleeve and peer down at the remnants of a great city. There are boulevards where people would have strolled with their friends; shops and offices—all the trappings of bustling, comfortable life.

  There’s an open area right below me, what looks like a kind of town square. Maybe there was a park where children once played. What happened to this place, I wonder? What happened to the people? I climb back down the ladder and lower myself into the water, taking deep, calming breaths before my long ascent. As I do, I take one last look around. There’s another poster made of that strange, enduring material. This one is an exaggerated map showing the city’s attractions. Here is a place for river rafting expeditions, there a place for hot air balloon rides across the mountains. Restaurants, hotels, an amusement park, playgrounds, sports fields . . . this place must have been bustling in its heyday.

  The map shows domes like this one scattered throughout the town of Three Rivers, all connected by that tube system. I bet that the entire closed system has air and power in it. We can explore to our hearts’ content, at least until the sunset deadline. I better get back and tell everyone.

  Just as I’m taking my last preparatory breath, I see an inset in the main city map, showing the surrounding landscape. The city sits on the easternmost of three rivers that flow south until they almost converge. A star on the map says “You Are Here.”

  For a moment I stare at that map, wondering how on Earth the city went from a riverside town to a city beneath a lake. I leave before I come to any conclusions, but it nags at me as I swim up to the bright surface.

  Mom meets me halfway up, her face going from terrified to relieved the moment she sees me. She intercepts me in an embrace that is half hug, half clawing rescue as she drags me up to the sunlight.

  Panting, her eyes wide, she says with exasperation, “I want you to have freedom and adventures, Rowan, but there are some limits!”

  I can’t help but laugh, even as I sincerely apologize for the worry I caused.

  “Glad you’re not dead,” Mira says blandly as her own face relaxes into a relief she tries to hide under flippancy.

  “Me, too,” I say. “I had my doubts there for a minute, but Elder Night said to trust her words, and it worked.”

  Mom shakes her head. “I’m surprised you were able to trust the words of any authority at this point.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t easy,” I tell her. People in charge have a reputation for lying, I’ve found.

  I tell them what I discovered, and after a brief consultation Mira swims off to tell the others. A while later most of us are under the dome, except for Lotte, who swore she didn’t have an ounce of energy left to keep going. I think it’s just as much fear as exhaustion, though. There was a haunted look in her eyes. Even if we all went first, she’d never commit her faith to such a risk. I understood, and I didn’t think any worse of her. Most normal people prefer a safe, comfortable life, and will embrace security even if it means giving up the possibility of something better.

  For just a second when he first emerges in the air bubble under the dome, Zander catches my eye. I’m not sure what I see there. Maybe a grudging respect, combined with (and probably overwhelmed by) irritation that he owes this to me. Still, it is enough to make me think that maybe, after I’ve proven myself for the next twenty years or so, he might be brought to admit that everything from Eden isn’t corrupt. For now, though, the best I think I can hope for is that if he catches me alone he’ll only break another finger, not my whole arm. Baby steps.

  We branch off into the tunnel system to search for artifacts. As the group separates, Mom shouts out a warning to remember the way back. Mom, Mira, and I stick together of course, choosing the same tunnel section. There’s a little dance as we figure out who is going to walk ahead—the first person will naturally see any interesting detritus of society first, and maybe thus win the challenge.

  “You should go first,” Mira says. “After all, you’re the one who found this place.”

  “How about we take turns,” I suggest. “Mom, the oldest, should go first, for the first twenty steps. Then you, then me, each for twenty steps.”

  Right away, Mom finds an electronics panel. Its small door is open, revealing wires and fuses. Mom pulls one of the fuses out. “Maybe this,” she says. “It represents mankind’s reliance on technology, which led them to neglect the environment.”

  It’s a good choice, I think.

  The next stretch seems empty, and I have the idea that the farther we get from the station, the more meager the pickings will be. These tubes were made for a sealed vehicle to move through. People would only be out in the stations, so it would only be there that they would leave their personal effects behind. I’m sorry about this, because it would have been nice to learn a little more about how they lived. I can see from the poster they were really no different than us. People of the past are painted as monsters hell-bent on their own destruction. But in the poster they just look like people doing their best to be happy.

  Everything seems so peaceful and normal down here, as if the tunnel has just been shut down for maintenance and isn’t buried under thirty feet of water. I wonder how this happened. I know from Eco-History classes that climate change melted the polar glaciers, made the water levels rise, but that would flood the coast, not an inland city.

  For a while it looks like we might not find anything else interesting. Then, while Mira is in the lead, she gasps and bends down quickly, coming up with a small, shining thing. “What is it?” she asks excitedly. “Is it jewelry?”

  Mom and I both recognize it. In school they showed us pictures of old pre-fail currency. We explain it to Mira as she turns the pretty silver coin over and over, letting the golden light emanating from the tube shine on the head embossed on one side, the angry-looking bird on the other.

  “So, the metal itself isn’t worth anything?” Mira asks, puzzled. “But you can exchange it for things like food and clothes?” In a world where everything is provided, where people work for the community not for reward, the concept of money is alien. She tosses up the coin and catches it neatly. “It only has value because everyone agrees it has value?”

  I nod, and tell her how people would compete to have more money than their neighbors, how they would fight and kill for coins like this one, destroy the environment, start wars, let children suffer, all for the sake of getting more money.

  Mira shudders. “I’ve definitely found my artifact,” she says, pocketing the coin.

  When it’s my turn to take the lead again, we hit a roadblock—literally. The tunnel is blocked by what must have been the vehicle that once ran through it. All we can see is its bulbous back end. It blocks the entire path except for a few inches all around. We have to turn back.

  Mom rubs my shoulder. “It’s okay, you can have my artifact.” When I refuse, she says, “Or pull something else out from that panel, a wire or something.”

  “No, I can’t just copy you.” I try to look hopeful, but as we retrace our steps I’m feeling more and more glum. There isn’t time to try another tunnel. It must be near sunset.

  The tunnel is completely bare; we missed nothing. Only at the last moment do I see something on the ground, something small and forgotten, by both the original inhabitants of Three Rivers City and by these people in the test. I scoop it up and shove it in my pocket.

  When we get back to the dome, I see that everyone has something. Zander keeps his find hidden in his cupped hands, so I’m guessing it must be good. Quinn has the biggest thing, a monitor as big as his chest, wires dangling from where he ripped it out of the wall. One person has what looks like a toy, a small figure of a curvy woman. Others have objects I don’t immediately reco
gnize, things that must have been useful so long ago but are irrelevant and forgotten now.

  We return to the surface with our prizes . . . all except Quinn. Elated about his fabulous find, he doesn’t stop to take physics into consideration. After a deep breath he jumps from the ladder to duck under the dome and return to the surface . . . but he isn’t strong enough to kick up with that extra weight dragging him down. I can see his panic as he tries to decide what to do as he sinks slowly, wasting air and energy fighting the pull. He tries to get back to the dome, to take a breath and try again, to buy time to think of a way. But the heavy monitor pulls him past the rim of the dome. His only choice is to drop it, and I watch it disappear into the depths of the sunset lake as Quinn goes back into the dome. I know he’ll search for something else, but he’ll either come up empty-handed, or too late.

  At least he’s alive.

  The competitors shiver on the beach, comparing their finds. Not me. I keep mine tucked away.

  Zander struts up. “What did you find, City?” he asks with derision.

  I don’t want to show him, and cover my pocket with my hand. He sees the protective gesture and grabs my hand away, and since it is my injured one I can’t fight him. I jerk my hand away before he hurts my fingers any more, and he pulls my artifact from my pocket.

  “Look at that!” he crows, holding it up for everyone to see. “Garbage! That’s all she can find, because that’s all she is!” He throws my scrap of plastic wrap on the ground, where a breeze catches it. I have to chase it before it blows away, all dignity lost. I catch it at the feet of Elder Night, and stand up slowly, holding out my offering.

  “Tell me why you chose that,” she commands in her serene voice.

  I gulp, not wanting to admit that it was the only thing I could find at the last minute. “It . . . it shows the endurance of the temporary.” I’m pleased with that phrase, and go on more enthusiastically. “It is plastic wrap, used to cover one leftover piece of food, for maybe a day, and then thrown away. The next time someone wanted to cover food they didn’t reuse this one—they tore off another piece. It was easy, convenient . . . and deadly. Used for just a moment, this plastic is still here after all this time, as perfect as it was the day some mother tore it to wrap her child’s sandwich. It will live longer than our species, probably. This artificial thing will get in oceans, in the bellies of whales, in our very bloodstream before it is gone. And when they used it, the people of long ago didn’t care at all, as long as it made their lives easier. That was the attitude that brought about our destruction.”

  Elder Night closes my hand around my terrible treasure and gives me one simple nod.

  Then she addresses the others. “You have completed the Trial of Water . . . and I think you all understand why I did not name the test to you beforehand.” She chuckles. Yes, that would have made it too easy.

  Then, as the sun is sinking low on the horizon in a red-and-pink glow, she questions each person about their find. After a while Quinn emerges, weary and empty-handed. I have no idea how mine compares to the other artifacts . . . but in the end, as Elder Night passes by me again, she gives me a smile that buoys my spirits.

  When she has finished, she says, “I’m sure you know the routine by now, no need for sneakery or surprises. I have a meal laid out for you just beyond the trees. After you refresh yourselves, you’ll be given a pill that will render you unconscious. When you wake, the next test will begin. I am proud of all of you. Some of you have surprised me, for good or for ill, but you are all showing your true natures, your strengths and weaknesses, and the community of Harmonia embraces all of you. Enjoy your respite, and may you show your best selves in the third and final test.”

  She points us to the feast, then drifts away into the forest.

  I sit with Mom and Mira and a couple of others, talking about the first two tests, and when the feast is over, when I’ve drunk my fill of honeyed tea, I reach along with the others to take one of the pale little pills on a dish at the center of the table.

  SLOWLY, I DRIFT toward consciousness. The first two trials have been pretty extreme, so I can only imagine that they must have something almost impossible for us on the third and final test. Just like the other times, I have no memory of being transported. I could be anywhere—the ocean, a desert. As I lay in a semiconscious haze, letting the tranquilizer wear off, I try to prepare for every possibility. By the time I manage to open my eyes, I’m ready for anything.

  Air or fire, Yarrow says.

  Maybe both, I think sleepily.

  What, then, falling off a cliff . . . into a volcano?

  The one thing I’m not prepared for is waking up in a soft, comfortable bed.

  With Zander.

  I scramble off the bed, literally brushing my arms with my hands in revulsion as if something disgusting was crawling on them. What the bik is going on?

  Zander snores away.

  This has to be a test.

  What, a test of your patience? A test to see if you’ll murder him in his sleep?

  I have to admit to Yarrow that the idea has some attraction.

  Then I have to pull myself together and take stock of the situation. This looked at first like one of our traditional bubble houses, high up in a tree, but there are differences. This is a one-room structure, a simple sphere situated just under the canopy. I don’t know what kind of tree we’re in. It is some kind of conifer, maybe a relative of redwoods but not as massive. Still, we’re pretty high up, at least fifty feet, and there are no branches on the trunk below us. We’re surrounded by the same kinds of trees. I see other one-room bubbles just like this one, in other trees, none too close. Are there other candidates in there?

  Then I notice other differences about this structure, and the others I can see. While most bubble houses are wrapped around the trunk, integrating the tree into their architecture, this one is hanging suspended from a limb like an ornament. Also, more troubling, there are no stairs. The only access is a hole in the bottom.

  In the room there’s only a bed, and a coil of rope. And Zander.

  So, you strangle him maybe?

  I wish. Fire. Air.

  Even with that guess, I do not immediately notice anything odd when the light around me seems to flicker. It is morning, and at first I think it is just the light filtering unevenly through the overhead limbs and the rest of the forest as the wind blows through them. Then something about the character of the light makes me take a second look.

  Fire!

  I’ve never seen a wildfire, but I envisioned it creeping insidiously along the ground, with flames licking up tree trunks as they climbed skyward. I never imagined that a forest fire could come from above.

  Maybe it was sparked by lightning. Maybe there was a fire on the ground far away that sent up a shower of embers to rain down on the nearby trees. Whatever the cause, the ground is clear but suddenly a raging fire is spreading with incredible swiftness through the tree canopy. Before my eyes I see it jump from tree to tree, and take hold until each tree looks like a giant matchstick.

  The fire is still some distance away, but it is coming closer. I have to get out of here!

  We, Yarrow reminds me. We have to get out of here.

  I might grumble a little, but there’s no doubt about what I’m going to do. I shake Zander and shout, “Wake up!”

  No response.

  Inside my head, I can actually feel Yarrow grin wickedly.

  I shout at him again, but he lies insensible. Did they drug him more deeply than me? What other choice do you have? Yarrow asks with glee as I slap his face. The sound echoes in the bubble, but he doesn’t respond. I hit him again, harder this time. Nothing. He’s breathing, he has a pulse, but he’s dead to the world.

  I run to the glass to check the fire’s progress. In disbelief I watch it reach one of the most distant bubble rooms. Is there anyone inside? Frantic, I press my nose to the glass and look for motion inside. I can’t see anyone. Did they already escape?
/>   Or are they drugged, too?

  The fire rages in the branches above the bubble. Suddenly, the bubble bursts, sending crystals of glass showering through the flames. The fire got so hot that it exploded!

  I flinch back, shielding my eyes even though it is still far away. And still the fire comes closer, leaping to the next tree. In only a few minutes it will be here.

  Okay, calm down Rowan, Yarrow cautions. This is a test. First of all, you’re probably not in any real danger, right?

  I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I could have fallen off the cliff, or drowned. Maybe the elders take precautions, but there’s risk of death in each of these tests.

  And second, you’ve been given the tools to pass each test, if you know what to look for. Here’s it’s easy. A climb, and a rope. Just lower yourself down and escape the fire.

  She’s right, of course. But what about the unconscious Zander?

  Leave him, Yarrow says, but I know she doesn’t quite mean it.

  But if I can’t wake him, what choice do I have? All I can do is climb down, and hope that he wakes up in time. Or look for help. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

  I tie the rope up to the only possible anchor, the bed, and tug against it, testing its strength. Yes, the counterweight is enough to hold me. I try one more time to wake Zander, then give up. I’ll have to figure out how to help him later.

  Then, just as I’m about to lower myself down with the rope, I see movement in the nearest of the bubble rooms. I run to the glass and peer through, expecting to see Mira or Mom or the other competitors.

  Instead I see a bubble full of children.

  There are a dozen of them at least, and I’m just close enough to make out their faces. They aren’t children I know from Harmonia, but they remind me of them. One resembles Lillibet, all of three years old, a precocious girl who follows the elders everywhere, begging for stories. Another is reminiscent of Ianni, a shy boy of ten with a passion for insects. He told me all kinds of interesting things about ants. I’ve gotten to know all the children of Harmonia in my time here. I don’t know these children, but there’s no doubt I have the same urge to protect them.