by Emily Shore
At first, I give no response. Serafina is far too perceptive than I care to admit. Unlike Bliss, however, she doesn’t try to manipulate or goad me. Unlike Serenity, she speaks reasonably, logically.
“Skylar is a good man. More than that, he is good for her. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped invading their love?”
She wipes up the last remnants of blood from Bliss’s back. I continue standing beside the bed should she require anything else.
“With all due respect, Serafina, it’s not in my nature to give up,” I say to her.
“It takes a great amount of courage to let go of what you love, Luc. To admit you were wrong and move on.”
“I’m not wrong,” I deny, then glance at Bliss, expecting her to wake at any moment.
“Then, let me ask you two questions, and I will prove you wrong by them both.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I am Serenity’s mother.” Serafina yanks my eyes to hers. While I’ve always recognized the fire in Serenity’s eyes coming from Force, her ice all stems from Serafina, who finishes, “So, with all due respect, Luc, you better damn well listen.”
I keep my hands stiff at my side but remain where I am, giving her the benefit but displaying my lack of pleasure from the occurrence. Bliss still does not wake.
“I’ve learned a few things about you in the past few months from Skylar. You spent fifty million dollars for Serenity. You spent weeks in the Aviary and more weeks beyond its walls with her. You shielded her from the Temple. You killed for her on more than one occasion. You gave up your very Museum for her and followed her, prepared to do her bidding. You seduced her, which I will not address at this time. You have brought her to the very pinnacle of infamy through your costumes and fine exhibit renderings.” She pauses, takes a deep breath, and finishes, “After all of this, Serenity still chooses Skylar. She will only ever see you as the man who exploited her. So, why do you refute it? More than refute it, you utterly deny it. Perhaps you hold tighter than even her father does.”
I grit my teeth, clenching the muscles in my jaw. One more question until I can leave. My eyes drift to Bliss’s statuesque features.
“And what is your second question?”
“If your feelings are so strong for my youngest, then why haven’t you stopped looking at my oldest since you brought her into the room?”
Not answering Serafina, I turn around and depart. Silence, I suppose, is an answer in and of itself. At the moment, mine speaks volumes. Even when Serenity enters the room, I refuse to meet her eyes. Even if she’s never managed to read my expressions as openly as I’ve managed to read hers, I’d rather not take the chance she read my guilt. Bliss’s words from our first discussion gut me like ice shards; I’m a convicted felon according to their truth. Guilty of fantasizing Serenity’s persona on Bliss’s body. It would be so simple to indulge in it. To imagine it. Bliss could make it so simple. And I’m losing patience with Serenity’s continuous rejection. Bliss would welcome me with open arms. The temptation bores into me. Whether I nurture it is my choice.
Force catches up to me in one of the halls. “I’m concerned about Serenity,” he informs me.
In no mood to hear of his supposed concern for Serenity, I keep walking toward my room. Once I return to my sketches and am afforded the opportunity to study her anatomy again, I’m certain I will give up on this fruitless temptation. With the footage Force managed to acquire from Serenity’s Skeleton Flower exhibits in the Garden, I can relive her moments again and again, foster my zeal, and capture every curve to render it for future display. My own method of having a piece of her even if I want all of her.
“She is withdrawn. Did you ever encounter her like this in the Aviary?”
His question diverts me from my train of thought, returns memories of Finch, of Raven, of Gull. Memories I don’t wish to harbor.
“Yes.” Perhaps if I keep my answers simple enough, he will relinquish the discussion.
“And what did you do to overcome it?”
No such luck.
I stop before my door, hand prepared on the knob. “What she needed most was empowerment and compassion. I took her to the Glass District. Let her select a child for me to purchase.”
“For you to rescue…” he surmises.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Luc. Your information has been most helpful.”
Thrilled beyond words, Force. I don’t bother to say a word before I retreat into my suite, head straight for the bedroom, and turn on the sprite light on my canopy to select footage of Serenity. Removing my shirt and shoes, I discard them to the floor. Quite uncharacteristic of me, I leave them there.
Desire—sharper than ever—rouses a fire inside me when I see the outline of her form through the transparent shift of her Skeleton Flower costume. I swipe to a new image—her latest Swan exhibit and then to her Mermaid one.
I sit on the bed, then use my digital pen to sketch.
The moment I saw her, I knew I wanted her for the Aviary… but also for myself. I knew I would spend well beyond fifty million dollars to acquire her. And with her fulfilling my vision every time she enters one of those exhibits, I am closer than ever. Close to her but sensing her refusal. Knowing my brother’s mouth is free to open hers, free to explore and taste and touch as much as he desires but knowing he will not drives me damn near mad.
Pausing after a few minutes, I examine the sketch I’ve just completed. Then, I curse.
It’s not Serenity on the paper.
It’s Bliss.
26
S u n S h i n e
Serenity
“Where are we going?” I demand of my father, not the least bit enthusiastic about his dragging me away from my room.
Weekdays are my only reprieve from him. And times with my mother and Sky. This week, I also plan on trying harder with Bliss, but if my father decides to cart me all around the Temple, it’s going to make it difficult.
He scans his barcode into the elevator, then punches a level for the halfway point of the Temple. As we descend, he waves a hand, triggering motion sensors that peel back the metal to reveal glass walls, allowing me to see a different side of the Temple. When I lean over to peer down at the vast sky-city, my father waves his hand again, slowing the motion. From here, I can see the camping level, which is a manmade forest wrapping around two floors. Strategically placed are cabins with artificial fire pits. Temple fantasies are boundless. If one is not provided, my father will carve out a new location by renovating an old level.
“Ahh…” Force gestures to a trail of hover boards gliding above our heads a couple of hundred yards away. “Looks like a tour is in progress.”
“You really don’t miss any money-making opportunities, do you?” I quip, planting my arms on the railing.
“You won’t either when you take my place. I’m certain your resourcefulness will become just as limitless as mine. Particularly if you pair it with Director Aldaine’s imagination,” he hints, and I respond with nothing more than an irked sigh.
“Where are we going?”
“I thought you might appreciate seeing your birthplace.”
The Centre.
The elevator glides to a stop, and my father escorts me through the door and into a hallway connected to a skyway. From here, we’re still a good distance from the ground, and all the city traffic and people look like dollhouse figurines and model car sets. Connected to the skyway is the infamous Centre—a vast skyrise itself with even more security than the Temple. Of course, we have security escorts.
“I thought you said you had a problem with security,” I practically snort at my father when the automatic Centre doors open, revealing a detail of soldier-like men.
“I do, which is why I am in the process of screening candidates with the assistance of Director Aldaine. Perhaps you could recommend one? I seem to recall one young man who seemed to have much potential.”
“He was just an Aviary security guard Luc e
mployed at his retreat,” I excuse, doing my best to remain nonchalant to protect Sky.
“Oh, come now, Serenity.” Force rolls his eyes. “There should be no secrets between us.”
I pause in the middle of the long white hall we’ve just entered where rows and rows of plaques adorn the walls, depicting various physicians and medical scientists in every field imaginable. Animated digital plaques that scroll to a sprite lite of the physician or scientist in action with more information. On my left are a series of windows to capture a view of the outside world—a city network of clogged arteries and veins. The Centre itself reminds me of a Tetris game with one high-rise and multiple lower ones branching out from its side—a domino effect. Other than private donations, countless grants, and tax dollars, I know the Centre’s well-oiled machine also runs Temple money since so little funds go to the girls who work it. Those who choose the Centre are paid more, but they don’t last as long—physically or psychologically.
“The Centre assists in every medical problem down to the smallest contraceptive,” Force begins his monologue. “But our main purpose is dedicated to boosting fertility whether through research and development or new breeding methods or treatments for sexually transmitted diseases,” he regales me with the Syndicate’s side pet project—one they’ve had their hand in since its conception.
“And what about the new virus that’s on the market now?” I challenge him, my eyes straying to the walls, whiter than cocoons. “Isn’t that a problem for you since Neil’s the only one with the vaccine?”
Laughing, Force just dips his head. “Ahh, I see he hasn’t told you, has he? That naughty boy.”
“What?” Impatient, I fold my arms across my chest, shifting my weight.
“He traded the vaccine. So, you’re quite wrong it’s only in his possession.”
I drop my arms. “Why would he do that?”
“Because I offered him something he could not resist in return.”
“Like what?” I tap my fingers against my arm, waiting.
Force opens his hand. “Access to you.” He continues in spite of my surprise. “Of course I couldn’t blame my own daughter, but after his assassination plot, do you think I would’ve allowed him to return to the Temple, much less see you again? During the weeks while you waited for your temporary prosthetics to wear off, his scientists finished the vaccine, and he agreed to trade it for an all-access pass to the Temple for himself and Aldaine.”
Seems like I’ve underestimated my brother. I’ll have to give him a tighter hug next time I see him.
Several medical staff members stop to address my father when we enter one birthing level. Doctors, nurses, receptionists—all pause to pay him some form of respect. Hearing a high-pitched shriek, I spin my head to the right, but the door is closed. The next one isn’t, and I see a young woman in a hospital gown, abdomen swollen, as she walks around the room with a nurse standing nearby. I purse my lips and watch as the woman suddenly grips onto a wall railing, clenching her eyes in what I assume is mid-contraction.
Some of these girls have spent years upon years pregnant.
“We’ve discovered a way to speed up the rate so the nine-month gestation is unnecessary,” Force says. “Test tube babies were considered for a time. Even invented an artificial womb that is still in use for lower birth rate months, but it’s been proven life thrives much better in a real womb environment. Designer babies are for the elite. Ahh…here we are.”
My father motions to a door. “I reserved the very best for Serafina.”
The number doesn’t matter to me. Only what’s inside. I should have expected something like this—something that resembles a suite more than a hospital room. Two rooms rolled into one complete with couch and dining table, a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the park, elaborate sculptures, and an opulent, state-of-the-art birthing bed. The walk-in bathroom features a large, circular whirlpool. I dredge up images from my mother’s journal, but she had little to say about the room and much about me. It feels like entering a mausoleum—a ghost of my origin. Bliss should be here with me. We should share this together.
Force swings his hand as if it’s a proud battle axe. “Would you care to see the nursery?” he offers.
I knew it was a mistake to come here. The thought of all these babies growing up without mothers and fathers, pretty ones groomed for life in the Temple, others chosen for breeders, causes all the butterflies inside me to stumble like drunkards. I almost grin at the thought because I doubt I’d be particularly good at holding a baby. Looking down at my hands, I consider how fragile they seem but know they could hold lightning.
One nurse approaches the glass, arms coddling an infant she raises for us. A girl. Force nods his approval. The last thing I’d ever want is a girl—if I ever had one at all. Does Sky want children? I wonder why I’ve never bothered to ask him. Maybe it’s because of Forget-Me-Not and Cosmos. Maybe I’ve even denied the notion all this time because I’m simply not interested in finding out. With so many deformed or frozen fetuses, stiller than abandoned birds’ nests, I know I could never handle it.
“Ahh…punctual as usual.” Force’s tone lightens as he twists his neck toward the entrance. “Good to see you, Queran.”
At the mention of my preparer’s name, I perk up, turning to see him progress into the nursery. Curious, I study the objects in his hand—small paper shapes dangling from two crisscrossed twigs: an infant mobile. That’s when I notice the scores of other mobiles already hovering above the cradles. Mostly animals or stars and flowers, except for Queran’s newest one. I press my fingers to the glass and smile as the nurse lowers the baby into the cradle, and Queran attaches the mobile with several swan shapes above her crib. Then, he straightens, looks at me from the side, and raises his hand.
“Queran, I will finish giving Serenity a tour. Once you’re finished, you may accompany us back to the Temple.”
Even as my father places a hand on the small of my back to lead me out, Queran holds up a finger, indicating he will join us. Only three mobiles for today, it seems. Just before we leave, I notice him scoop up a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, press his cheek to hers, and then hurry to join us.
Force mutters something that sounds like, “Probably an orphan thing”.
I have no problem with Queran tagging along. He’s dressed in what assume are his everyday clothes. Instead of the Penthouse-preparer uniform, Queran wears casual street clothes—nothing like my father’s dramatic white suit with black vest accented by embroidered lace and digital-enhanced swans with a narrow gray scarf draped around his neck. No, Queran’s style is more timid with his collar buttoned all the way to his neck along with a gray Newsboy hat and simple skinny jeans that seem to work for his figure.
Ahh…” my father croons, signaling to his temple. “I just received a Center alert. It seems we have a triplet birth. The first in the country this year. Would you care to accompany me?” He gestures toward the nursery door.
I shake my head. “No, I’d rather stay here.”
A delivery should be a celebratory moment, but I won’t be able to focus on the life without remembering the death of Forget-Me-Not’s baby. And Cosmos. A shrill baby’s cry off to my left startles me, but Queran wanders past me to scoop up the squealing infant. A nearby nurse smiles. I imagine they are understaffed and appreciate the volunteer help. While Queran hushes the infant, rocking him back and forth, I stare down at the sleeping babe right below me. So peaceful. Too peaceful for this place.
Out of the corner of my eye from beyond the glass window, I see a nurse wheeling a young girl down the hallway. My spine goes rigid. She looks like she’s no more than fourteen. What I notice the most is the puckered flesh all along one side of her face, trailing down her neck, one side of her arm…old burn scars. What is she doing here?
Curious, I hasten out of the nursery, almost missing Queran staying close on my heels when I follow the nurse, who strolls the wheelchair into a nearby room. She doesn’t notice me
or Queran enter. Even if I could make demands to be here, my father would still be notified, so before the nurse can turn around, I grab Queran by the collar and yank him into the adjoining bathroom. Fortunately, he plays along.
“Shh…” I warn him, finger to my mouth even if it’s too dark to see anything.
Queran doesn’t respond but stays close. We wait. A curtain pulled, muffled words, a wall screen turned on…finally, footsteps recede and a door closes.
I’m about to open the door when I hear the girl call out, “Either you two peepers can give me a hand, or I can always press the nurse button.”
When I step one foot out, the girl is in the process of moving the bed, metal legs screeching on the floor. It’s only after she looks up at the ceiling that I realize she’s trying to line it up with the vent.
Finally, the girl glances up and straightens, jaw dropping, but she picks it up rather quickly, though she shakes her head. “There’s no way Lina’s going to believe I met the Swan!”
Almost shell-shocked, I stand there, observing. Her soprano voice is not lilting in any way. Much too perky for that, as well as her movements. Nothing bird-like about them, she reminds me more of a cricket.
“Sunshine’s the name?” she croons, frolicking up to me, extending a hand, gold-toned hair swinging around her shoulders.
After she’s done shaking my hand, she prepares to do the same with Queran. Instead, he holds up a finger, retrieves a piece of paper, and folds it into a sun shape within a minute.
“What are you doing?” I point to the vent as he works.
Sunshine opens both hands as if it’s obvious. “Escaping.”
He presents her with the sun. Sunshine presses it to her chest. “Guy’s got skills. Now, are you going to help or run to your daddy?”
I wish Sky were here.
