by P. Mattern
In the unfortunate case of those who cannot find mates, no one really knows what happens to them. A couple kids I had known from Kindergarten, Yaz and Tom, seemed to always prefer each other’s company, and never attended to ‘Socials’ thrown for us about three times a year, dances with a live band and extra food.
As we all grew older, they were very open that they wanted to be considered a couple. I was fine with that. I was crushing on a girl named Lamara then, and as far as I was concerned, it meant that there would be two less guys vying for her attention, so it was all good. To each his own and all that.
One day they both vanished, from classes, community work detail, everything. Rumors circulated that they had committed some infractions. Someone told me they had a suicide pact. I didn’t know what to believe, but one thing I had learned from living in our artificial and protected environment was that anyone who disagreed, protested, caused harm to others or was a danger to his or herself was gone one day, never to return again.
I see from my peripheral vision that Rollo is messing with his hair in an uncharacteristic nervous gesture. He moves over and looks up at Tish hopefully.
He’s relieved when she smiles and sits down beside him.
Rollo and I are polar opposites as far as body type. I work out, but I have a slender build. Rollo has the natural build of a prizefighter in the Heavyweight Division. He has always been the biggest kid in the class as far back as I can remember. He likes to joke that one of his ancestors was a giant, and it’s not like we can prove him wrong. One rule of Naris is that we don’t discuss our lineage or ethnic heritage. I have to agree with them; so many countries and populations were wiped out during the Great Upheaval, and our survival depends on seeing each other as united and not recognizing differences… but it’s like the elephant in the room.
Having a big guy for your best bud is a godsend, though. You never have to worry about bullies. If anyone said crap to me Rollo would just take one menacing step towards them and they would change their mind about harassing me.
But I get the impression that the Officials might be grooming him for something. He always seems to get an extra cut of meat on his dinner tray. I guess I’m not the only one who likes to have a bruiser watching his back.
We hang out awhile and then part company. Rollo smiles and shoots me a look, and I shoot one back. This hour of the day is known as ‘The Make out Hour’ because couples usually use it to explore their sexuality. For some, finding a private place is difficult, but Rollo has no roommate, and my little sister Bree is in Ballet class, giving me, the privacy Pagan and I need.
After we make out, she rolls away from me into the center of my cocoon shaped mattress, just big enough for us to lie side by side.
It’s only been an hour, but both of us feel relaxed, all of the tension of the busy school day gone, and after we adjust our clothing and wash off at the sink, I take her small hand in my larger one and we head out to the Dining Hall.
Life is good.
Chapter 2
THE VANISHING PLAN
I’m not sure why I woke up before my alarm the next day, but my eyes popped open and I was instantly awake and ready to bolt. In my momentary confusion, I felt like someone was in the room with Bree and I.
I jumped up and opened the curtain around my cocoon, walking the short distance to where Bree was sleeping to make sure she was all right.
She was of course. I couldn’t understand why I’d felt so panicked.
I pee and wash up in the tiny shower unit on my side, trying not to make too much noise. I am just finishing dressing and pulling on my sneakers when I hear a tapping sound at the door to our quarters.
I must have looked startled as I open the door, because the first word out of Rollo’s mouth is “Sorry!”
I shoot him a quizzical look.
“What the hell Rollo?” was how I greeted him. He looks weird to me, kind of sweaty and nervous, two things I had never known him to be.
Well, maybe sweaty, but he wasn’t the nervous type.
He looks around like he was paranoid.
“They’re lying Billy. They’re lying about what they are grooming us for. They have me taking all their medical classes, right? Upper level courses in medicine, pharmacology, psychopharmacology, anatomy…all that right?”
I am staring at him, trying to wrap my head around why he looks like he’s becoming unhinged, especially for it being so early in the day.
“So?” I say cautiously. Beyond the partition behind us I can hear Bree’s alarm go off and hear her shower starting to run. I am hoping that Rollo will wind it up before she emerges because the look on his face is scaring even me.
“So, they took me for an ‘Advanced’ training session yesterday. We took the elevator because it was on one of the restricted levels. And guess what I saw?”
I am fairly certain that I don’t want to hear whatever he says next. I have a strong impression that whatever it is, it’s going to change my life.
But I listen anyway, and it does.
“People in cages,” he tells me, speaking with difficulty as if the gorge is rising in his throat, “And the guys in the Security Patrol acts as if it’s no biggie. I ask them why people are in cages, and why they aren’t making any noise, just staring as we walk past.
“One of the Security Patrol answers my second question. He turns around and winks at me and tells me it’s alright, their tongues have been cut out!”
Rollo covers his broad face with his hands and starts sobbing uncontrollably. I can still hear Bree’s shower running, thank goodness, and I pull Rollo over to my sink.
“Wash your face and get a grip,” I tell him. My mind is racing a million miles a minute, “You need to get it together or it might be you in one of those cages, okay!”
“They made me inject someone with a big hypodermic full of pentobarbital, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride. Billy, if you could have seen the look in this man’s eyes, it was like he was trying to communicate, pleading for me to do something. Now I know what all the practice in giving injections last week was for…
“I don’t think they are training me to be a doctor, Billy. I think they are training me to be an executioner!”
By this point in time I am herding Rollo out the door, trying to get us both out of earshot before Bree finishes her shower.
“As true as that might be,” I tell him, “You don’t have enough proof. Not yet anyway.” I knew what I was saying was calming him down, but I felt guilty. I had an agenda.
I liked it here. I had a girlfriend, I had protection, and I had my grades. Oh, I had gripes of course, but considering the icy death of the surface world, this was a paradise.
Rollo speaks and another doubt pierces my bubble of comfortability.
“I think I saw Pagan’s dad in one of the cages, Billy. Pretty damn sure it was him. He had that same vacant look in his eyes…
“It was like that book we read: Dante’s Inferno, ‘Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.’
“I think I know where our parents go after they hit 40. For all I know they’ll have me killing another batch of discarded citizens next week—hell, every week!”
I take a moment to check out his demeanor, but he just looks determined and gravely concerned, two expressions that I have never seen on his face.
“We can figure this out together,” I tell him. “Is there any reason you can think of that they would have human beings in captivity other than torture? Maybe they have something contagious and terminal? Maybe the Collesium is protecting us without causing a widespread panic! I mean it’s not like you interviewed anybody!”
Rollo keeps staring straight ahead and walking.
“They didn’t have tongues, Billy,” he says. “And I don’t appreciate you talking to me in that placating, condescending tone, like I’m crazy or something. I know what I saw, heard, felt and did. I killed somebody with a lethal injection. That’s not something you can just shrug off. Is—is this what
we’ve come to? Are we just a collection of well-sharpened teeth for the monster living underneath us? And I feel crazy trying to explain to you how wrong this is, and Billy…
When the hell did you become so cold?”
I can feel my face flushing. Not because I’m insulted, but because I recognize the truth in what he is saying. Behind all my well-meaning reactions is a fear that I have never allowed myself to recognize.
My fear is that we are all prisoners, swallowed in the belly of a huge controlling beast five floors underground.
“There’s no exit,” I say, looking directly in his eyes. “Rollo, no matter how much we hate this, we cannot get out of here.”
Just before we walk into class, he turns to me and his eyes are flinty grey and serious.
“Oh yeah we can. I already know a way. I have special clearances now and I know the code to the elevators. Maybe it’s not as bad as they say it is up there. Maybe it hasn’t been that bad for years. Hell, maybe it’s worse, but I don’t care. I studied so I could help people. If I can’t help myself, I’m not gonna be any help to anyone else.
But you stay here if you need to, man. I know what I need to do.”
Any joy I would have gotten out of the rest of the day was overshadowed by what Rollo had shared that morning. I can’t get it out of my mind. I can’t get rid of the nagging sense that he had opened up a can of worms and said worms were boring holes in my brain.
That’s what it feels like anyway.
* * *
Sunday arrived soon enough, and I am glad for it. Rollo had been uncharacteristically quiet and doesn’t seem to want to talk about his experience, which is kind of a relief. I am scared shitless to the core at the thought of leaving our warm little bunker for a frost-covered hellscape. Even if they only ever lied to us about the dangers lurking above, I don’t want to go anywhere without a plan for where we’re headed and how we’re going to survive.
When Bree and I depart to visit my parents, I forget all about it. She is so happy she is skipping and has a big bunch of daffodils she grew in Horticulture Class to give to our Mom.
When we enter their quarters, I can smell home fusioned food. It’s the best way to cook since they figured out to safely pipe the exhaust from the fusion reactor into the couples’ quarters. I can tell Mom has prepared my favorites, lasagna and fried chicken.
Dad and I talk shop. I have been studying tweaks to the design of the geothermal energy units and he has been working on a design for a thermostat that would allow every housing unit to choose their own temperature setting.
Mom is an expert in Practical Living Skills. She teaches a few seminars here and there for citizens that are interested. There’s so much we’ve forgotten how to do, and anyone who can get things done when the machines break down is considered a godsend. For the class, they provide an electric stove and Mom teaches cooking, canning, thread-spinning, and sewing.
She tells Bree she made her something new, and disappears to go get it. Bree bounces up and down in her chair as she waits. Mom emerges with two new tunics, both made from a fabric produced within the community called Swilk. It’s a blend of silk and suede and very durable.
The bombshell comes at the end of our meal. A moment comes when Mom starts shooting meaningful glances at my Dad, and I notice he is returning them, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes and a pregnant silence falls over all of us.
Dad lays his fork down on the side of his dessert plate. His homemade chocolate cake is half eaten and I know it’s his favorite. I can feel myself tensing up.
“Your mother and I are approaching our launch into a new phase of our lives,” he tells us, looking from myself to Bree and back again, as if he is afraid we might bolt from the dinner table. “I’m turning 40, as I am sure you are aware, and your mother is only 39 but she has the options of coming with me, and she has decided to do so.
“After being a couple for so long, it’s natural that we don’t want to be separated.”
My hands have gone clammy, and I wipe them off with my dinner napkin. I am remembering what Rollo told me and I am thinking that if by chance my parents end up on the Medical Floor it might be my best friend that gives my parents the Death Cocktail.
Bree bursts into tears and runs to my Mom, throwing her arms around Mom’s neck. My Dad throws me a helpless look. He doesn’t look scared, just resigned.
“So, what happens next?” I ask over the pandemonium, “How long do we have before…before…”
“Not sure.” My Dad answers, “We just got the notice. From what I understand it could be as long as three months before the arrangements are made, or as little as three weeks. From what I gathered; it varies.”
Something inside me kicks in and I feel my face crumble and tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. Inwardly I’m kicking myself. This is not really news. I was always aware that this moment would come, just like when the moment of emancipation came and Bree and I got our own quarters in Naris. I’d always taken it for granted that the Collesium had saved humankind and knew what was best for us.
That was before I studied history. Before I learned that humans have always been a bunch of greedy assholes that cling to life half-heartedly.
I thought I was ready for all of it—the parents being ‘retired’, Bree and I having our turn at pairing up and procreating on the schedule, being a productive part of the underground hive until my day to retire came…
But I wasn’t, not even close.
I look over at Bree. She’s sitting on Mom’s lap. Mom’s face is buried in Bree’s hair and Bree has calmed down although she’s still making hiccupping sounds.
I am realizing the uncomfortable fact that in spite of living independently in separate quarters I am attached to my parents in a way that goes beyond reason, practicality, or intellect.
I could feel my attachment to them in a visceral way, deep in my gut. I wasn’t ready to let go of them. Even though we lived apart there was a strong connection there. They were touchstones in my life, helping it to seem full, like I was part of something bigger, providing encouragement and feedback and helping my entire existence make sense.
Maybe I’d watched The Walton's and The Sons of Katie Elder and Lassie Come home too many times, but family mattered. Even when the world didn’t.
Our family gathering ended on a somber note. I had reached a turning point. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I had never questioned anything the Collesium had decided on our behalf. After all, they were our saviors. They were the only reason we had survived—that’s what we had been told from earliest.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Bree held the rest of her tears in until we were in the area known as the Crossroads. It was a section as large as half a football field with a lot of eateries, food kiosks, and tables to eat on located around a centralized hub with a merry-go-round.
It was a place I had taken Bree to often when she was down or upset. As the soothing calliope music drifted out from the rotating merry-go-round in waves and settled over us, I see Bree’s shoulders relax. She turns to me and I grab her hand and walk over to purchase tickets.
It is everything we need. Bree is riding her favorite silver unicorn with the pink and purple saddle and I am beside her on a fierce looking white polar bear, and as the merry-go-round spins faster and faster and the crowd and the lights around us start to blur we start to laugh like we always do. The up and down motion of our animals and the spin of the ride cause all of our worries to blow away with the breeze it creates.
We take one more ride. Bree stays on the unicorn to hold our places and by the time the second ride is over we have left our fears many rotations behind.
Then. we get some tiny scoops of ice cream. Bree has just enough chits in her jean pockets to get me a dollop of pistachio. We take our time at the Crossroads, licking our cold treats slowly and watching the other people say goodbye to each other and drift away in different directions. Some are emancipated kids like Bree and I, some
are working stiffs for Naris. I study their faces to see if I can tell if they look happy, but I can’t tell anymore. They look calm and placid, like the pictures I’ve seen of cows. Content with knowing that their futures are entirely mapped out and that they are members of Naris in good standing. As long as they follow orders and keep their mouths shut.
That night as we turn in, I cocoon in my pod bed and dream of Pagan. She might be the only wild card in my existence. I could be happy anywhere, as long as we had each other.
As I drift off into blessed oblivion, I can still smell her on the sheets.
Chapter 3
BREACH
There are alarms in the morning. Alarms have only sounded twice before in my entire life. Once when I was about four years old. My Mom was pregnant with Bree and we lived in the family section in Western Naris. Everyone knew that when alarms sound the protocol is to stay in your quarters and stay clear of the hallways.
That time it was because of a minor fire somewhere in the huge power generating complex. It became legendary and there were rumors that an act of sabotage had precipitated it, but the Collesium announcement called it an isolated incident and left it at that.
The second time was when Bree was still a toddler, and no explanations were offered. Shortly after we shut the door, we heard screaming in the hallways, people running, and gunfire, at least what I thought was gunfire. It sounded way louder than the movies. Our father made us promise not to talk about it. When the danger was over, all citizens resumed their normal routines as instructed and no citizen asked any questions.
This morning is the third alarm, and aside from the blaring horn, I don’t hear anything. Did Rollo try to escape? All of us wait for the signal that the coast is clear. An announcement is made that we may resume our regularly scheduled activities. Once again, there is no explanation for the 10 minute or so delay. Bree and I get ready for class, and grab an orange, a banana and a protein smoothie to tide us over until lunch.
