by Jason Gurley
Nathan Gerard is my name, Nathan says. It wasn't a lie. It isn't.
It's a stage name, Anya says. It's a costume.
Yes, Nathan says. That's exactly what it is. A mask.
Anya stomps one foot on the pebble path. You tell me these things, Nathan.
Tasneem looks on, amused, as Nathan goes to Anya.
Sweetheart, Nathan says. He takes her hands. Anya. Look at me.
Anya looks at the ground.
Anya, Nathan repeats.
She looks up reluctantly.
My grandfather was a very rich man, Nathan says. On Earth, he threw his money around like a battle axe. When he moved to space, he had to give up the money, so he learned to throw his influence around instead. He wasn't a nice man. He wasn't evil, but he wasn't kind. He believed in the elite class. He believed in privilege.
Tasneem walks to a bench and sits down. She tilts her head again as if listening to someone who isn't there.
Who cares about your grandfather, Anya says.
My grandfather invented the Harvard Club, Nathan says.
Anya's eyes widen.
For my grandfather, it was simply a boys' club, he continues. He and other formerly rich men would gather in secret, share alcohol that they'd skimmed from station resources, and tell stories of their glory days. I'm sure they had ideas of overturning the class-leveling system of Ganymede -- they probably hated being considered the equals of working-class residents -- but to my knowledge they never did much more than bitch and moan about it.
Nathan exhales heavily. If it had stopped there, it would have been fine. The Harvard Club was just a bunch of crabby old men. It wasn't what you know it as. In fact, it died with my grandfather. The club disbanded.
Tasneem says, Nathan's father was William Bogleman.
Anya shakes her head. William Bogleman was childless. That's why he was able to be so --
So ruthless, Tasneem finishes. That was a fabrication. William had six children, each with different mothers. Nathan here is the last of the brood. The runt, so to speak.
Anya turns to Nathan. You have brothers and sisters? You told me you were an only child.
I am, he says. They're all dead. And I never knew them, anyway.
William's children were murdered, Tasneem says.
Anya gasps.
Nathan looks down at his feet.
They were murdered by enemies that William made when he resurrected the Harvard Club and turned it into a criminal organization, Tasneem says. William's children were delivered to him in pieces. It was quite gruesome.
Nathan nods. I changed my name. Well, my mother changed it for me.
She was murdered, too, Tasneem says. When she wouldn't give her son up, she was walked to a shuttle dock. They put her into an airlock. Then they opened the door, but only a couple of inches.
Anya claps her hands to her mouth. My god, she says.
Nathan's mother was --
Stop, Nathan says. Jesus Christ.
Tasneem nods. So your boyfriend has a new identity. I don't know if you can tell, but he's had some reconstructive treatments. That's not his nose, for one.
Anya's eyes are damp.
Nathan says, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you.
Anya shakes her head. I -- you -- Nathan, I --
It's okay, he says.
Anya steps into his arms. Nathan looks over her shoulder at Tasneem.
What do you want, really? he asks.
Tasneem says, What do you know about David Dewbury?
In here, Tasneem says.
She leads Anya and Nathan into a narrow space between two towers in the Gaia District. Tasneem presses her palm against a sheer wall, and it shimmers and becomes transparent. Inside, Anya can see modest living quarters -- a simple bed, a table and chair, a basic kitchen module.
A segment of the wall slides open.
Please, Tasneem says.
Anya follows Nathan inside, and can instantly see that the living quarters are only one small piece of a larger facility.
What is this place? she asks.
Tasneem enters behind her. The wall slides closed again. She presses her palm against it, and it becomes opaque, invisible from the slim alley outside.
This, Tasneem says, is your war room.
Anya looks confused. I don't understand.
Nathan says, You have to tell me what you want, right now, or we're leaving.
I agree, Tasneem says. Please. Sit.
David Dewbury, Tasneem says again. What do you know?
Anya says, I learned about him in school. A few years ago.
Tasneem nods. Nathan?
My father killed him, Nathan says. It was what led to the breakdown of the Harvard Club.
David Dewbury was a beloved thinker, Tasneem explains. If you put him in a room of astrophysicists, he would dazzle and confound them. If he were among a party of theologians, he would have them proclaiming that the god myth was over. He was the sort of man for whom genius was too shallow a word.
And your father killed him? Anya says.
David wanted the Soma treatment, Tasneem continues. But he couldn't have it. Nathan, you know why.
Everybody knows why, Nathan says. The man's a sort of cult figure now.
Why? Anya asks. I can't remember.
He killed his parents, Nathan says. He was a prodigy, and his parents were drunks and addicts. They would lock him in closets, or tie him to furniture. They treated him like an animal because --
-- because they didn't understand him, Anya finishes. I remember now.
When people applied for Soma, Tasneem says, they were subjected to weeks of careful examination. If you failed even a tiny component of the exam, you were denied treatment. David knew he would never pass muster, no matter how vital his mind was to mankind.
He took Amrita instead, Nathan says.
Holy shit, Anya breathes. And your father --
My father ran the black market for it on Aries, Nathan says. All told, nearly seventy people died from Amrita. Nobody survived it.
Anya turns to Tasneem. This is terrible, but why the history lesson? What does it matter?
Tasneem says, Watch.
Tasneem removes a wristband from her left arm and places it on a depression in the table. The table begins to glow.
Nathan, do you mind? Tasneem says, pointing.
Nathan follows her gaze to a square button. This?
Tasneem nods. Press it, please.
Nathan does.
A seam in the ceiling opens, and a tiny projector descends. A few feet away, two more appear. There is a rainbow flare of light, and the three projectors shine down upon the table. A pale hologram rises from the light, and gains substance as the lights begin to flicker more quickly.
Anya, Nathan, Tasneem says. I'd like you to meet David Dewbury.
Anya stares in wonder. It's like watching an old movie.
It's not a movie, Tasneem says. Otherwise I'd agree with you.
What is it? Nathan asks.
It's David, Tasneem says. Say hello, David.
The holographic figure bows modestly. Hello, it says.
Oh, my, Anya says.
How? Nathan asks.
It's not terribly important how, Tasneem says. David, would you like to take it from here?
The figure sits down on the table and folds its legs, one over the other.
Sure, David says. Pardon my appearance, please. It's not a perfect representation, but it's what I have to work with. Nathan, I'd like to answer your question -- what does Tasneem want from you? It's a bigger question than that, though. You might also ask what I want from you. But it's bigger than that, still. Do you know what the question is?
Nathan shakes his head.
Anya? David asks.
Anya says, What does history want from him?
That's a very nice way of putting it, Tasneem says.
I agree, David says.
What do you mean, history? Nathan asks.
Y
ou are each Machine-class citizens, correct? David asks.
We are, Nathan says.
What history requires is quite simple, David says. Tasneem?
Tasneem leans forward and looks Nathan in the eye, then Anya.
We want you to overthrow Station Administration, Tasneem says. We want you to bring down the Onyx program.
Anya is stunned.
Nathan jumps up. There's no way, he says. Let us out.
David says, Nathan. You've run from your name for a very long time. Wouldn't you like to reclaim it, and redeem it?
Fuck, no, Nathan says. My new name serves me fine. I have no loyalties to the Bogleman line.
You're happy with your status as a second-rate citizen, then, Tasneem says.
Perfectly happy, Nathan says. Keeps me out of sight. It's easy to hide.
And you'd like to continue hiding, Tasneem says.
Damn straight, Nathan says.
And you, Anya? Are you content with a life such as that?
Anya bites her lip. I don't know, she says.
When he returns home late from work, Tasneem says, you'll worry. Was this the day he was found out?
Leave her alone, Nathan says. What good does it to me to go public? Then I'm just a target for anybody who remembers my father and his crimes.
People still love a good story, Tasneem says. Especially a redemption story.
It's not that easy, Nathan says.
It actually is, David replies. Of course, we'll provide you with some protection, but we expect that a well-placed rumor or two would lead to a groundswell of opinion reversal. Not to mention a rise in your ranks.
Nathan shakes his head. I'm not a revolutionary, he says. The system works just fine.
The system says that you and Anya can't have children until the government says so, Tasneem says. Anya? Do you want children?
Anya looks at Nathan. We've never talked about it, but --
There's no use getting her hopes up, Nathan snaps.
-- but I hope every year that we're one of the few, Anya finishes.
Nathan stops and looks at her. You never told me that.
It seemed foolish, Anya says. Only a few hundred people are even allowed the chance. It would probably never, ever be us.
Have you heard of Meili? Tasneem asks.
Meili is a myth, Nathan says.
I assure you, Meili is real, David interjects.
What is Meili? Anya asks, looking back and forth.
Meili is the next space station, Nathan says. It's a rumor.
Meili construction is underway, David says. I've been following its progress religiously.
Tasneem says, It's planned as a second Onyx station.
Station Argus's social experiment has proven so successful, David says, that Meili will be structured in the same way. There is talk of rolling the program backwards across the other stations as well.
Nathan stops pacing. They can't do that.
Anya says, What does that mean?
Tasneem levels her gaze at the two young people and says, It means that from here on, forever, the Egyptians will whip the Israelites until their backs are bloody and they die in the trenches. It means that you, and your children, if you are so fortunate as to be allowed to reproduce, will be slaves. Forever.
You see, this isn't just about you, Anya, David says. It isn't just about you, Nathan. If the Machine-class people of Station Argus do not rebel and claim the freedom and expression that is rightfully theirs, then almost all of humanity will join you as subservient members of a once-free society.
It won't pass, Nathan says, weakly. One of the stations will revolt. They won't just take it.
Do you want to count on that? Tasneem asks.
Anya says, Nathan --
Nathan explodes. Why me? Why not someone else?
Tasneem says, You're Matthew Bogleman. Who better to lead the revolution?
David says, Will you? Will you help us?
Anya looks at Nathan balefully.
I need time to think about it, Nathan says.
You don't have time, Tasneem says. I'm deeply sorry about that, but this must begin now.
Anya says, Nathan. I want to have a baby.
Nathan looks at Anya, then closes his eyes. I don't want to do this, he says, finally.
What is right often has nothing to do with what you want, David offers.
Tasneem folds her arms. Well?
What if you're both wrong? Nathan asks. What if Onyx never goes any farther than this station?
Then congratulations, Tasneem says. You're both members of the most discriminated-against group of human beings in the fleet. Nathan, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. We'll find someone else.
Either way, David adds, there will be a revolution.
You can lead it, Tasneem says, or you can be swept up by it. And I have a feeling that as much as you're pushing against us, you aren't really the follower type. I think you've got a bit of your grandfather in you.
Like him or not, David says, he refused to be marginalized.
Anya squeezes Nathan's hand. Nathan, she says.
Nathan's shoulders slump. Alright, he says.
Tasneem claps her hands and hops to her feet. She picks up the wristband from the table, and David's image vanishes.
Good, she says. Follow me. There are people for you to meet.
Anya stands up. Can we have a moment first? Please?
Tasneem looks at the two of them. They suddenly look very small. The last thing that anybody would mistake Nathan for would be a revolutionary.
Of course, she says. I'll be outside.
Well? she thinks.
I think he's weak, David says.
Do you think he can win?
I think it doesn't matter if he wins, David says. All you need is to turn public opinion. If he fails, someone else will rise up. You'll have planted a weed.
Weeds are good, Tasneem says.
The door opens, and Anya pushes Nathan forward.
Anya says, Go on, tell them.
Nathan looks almost sheepish. It's just -- I --
He doesn't know how to start a revolution, she says. You can teach him, right?
Nathan looks down at his feet.
Tasneem steps forward and puts her hands on Nathan's shoulders.
We can teach you everything, she says. First thing's first -- you need a first mate. Who do you trust?
Nathan doesn't hesitate. Eldon, he says. Eldon Heave. He'll do anything for me.
He's loyal? Tasneem asks.
Completely, Nathan says. As am I, to him.
That's where we start, then, she says. Let's go.
She called again, didn't she.
He stops fumbling in the closet in the dark. I didn't know you were awake. I was trying not to wake you.
But she did, didn't she.
Yeah. Yeah, Zita, she did.
Zita says, Lights.
The bedroom illuminates.
Well, what does she need this time? Zita asks.
I'm not sure, he answers.
Why does she call you? The station has people for these things.
I don't know. You know how the repair team is, he says. They take a pretty long time.
What are you looking for?
He is shoulder-deep in the closet.
Zeke, she says.
Huh?
What are you looking for?
Zeke steps back and plants his hands on his waist. Huh, he says. I was looking for my shoes.
They're under the bed, Zita says.
Zeke kneels down. They're under the bed, he says.
He fishes them out, then sits on the edge of the bed to put them on.
You don't want to know why they were under the bed? Zita asks.
Zeke shrugs. I guess I put them there. I just forgot.
Zita scoots across the bed and whacks Zeke's head. No, you idiot. I put them there. Don't you want to know why?
I guess, Zeke says
, rubbing his head.
Because, Zita says.
Okay.
She snakes an arm around his chest.
Because, she says again.
Because why?
Because I don't want you to go to her, Zita says.
Zita, honey --
No, don't take that tone, she says. You're not going to her. You're staying here with me.
Zita slides her hand down his chest.
Zita, come on. You know I have to go.
She sits back on her knees and pulls the blanket around her. You do not, she says.
If I don't go, she'll just call again. You know that.
That's no reason to go running off to her.
You say it like she's some slinky thing, Zeke says.
Zita doesn't answer.
She's not some slinky thing, Zeke says. She's your sister.
Even more reason, Zita says, but she senses that she is losing the argument.
She needs help now that Arnan's gone, Zeke says.
Arnan, Zita says. If you'd asked me a year ago, could Arnan be any worse than he already is? I'd have said no. But then he up and left her with those little ones.
You're making my argument for me, Zeke says.
Zeke, please don't go. She'll be fine. I'm sure it's just a broken switch or something.
If it is, she could freeze to death, Zeke says.
She won't freeze to death.
She might, he says. We've got it okay here on Tycho. I mean, it's no Argus, but Galileo is a shit station, and you know it. It's like an old automobile somebody crashed in the woods and let the battery run out. If she's got a climate problem and nobody fixes it, her compartment will have icicles by morning.
Well, then I'm coming with you, Zita says.
Zita, he says.
It's final, Zeke.
Zita, it's a long trip. I'm just going to sleep in the orbital on the way there, and sleep on the way back, and then I'm going straight to work. There's no point.
Zeke, she says weakly.
You have nothing to worry about, he says, taking her hands in his.
I don't trust --
I know, he says. But there's nothing to worry about. She's your sister. And I'm your husband, for Pete's sake.
She's cunning, Zita says.
I'm impervious to cunning, he says.
Stay here?
He shakes his head. Look, I don't want to go any more than you don't want me to. But it's the right thing to do.
