Then, he must want me to think that his motive is to create an aura of paranoia. But how could he expect me to believe that? What does he have to be gained from paranoia? I suppose even the most inane and sloppily spread seeds can fester if given enough time. But our bonds are too tight, and we are all far too suspicious of him for that to work. Surely this can’t be it… but, that’s what he wants—that’s what he thinks I will think about what he thinks! Oh, but he has misgauged my guile. In fact, I know that he must be trying to distract us. Or, he must be trying to yoke us together under common thought. An enemy united under common thought is more predictable—but, is it worth the sacrifice?! Does this benefit really outweigh the drawbacks of becoming a subject of ridicule? But alas, he is not the subject of ridicule! Should one have followed any similar line of reasoning this far, then one should have already made the fundamental assumption that he wasn’t a fool. He stands to gain, yet he risks nothing! How clever of him.
Then, of course, there is the possibility that I am missing the obvious! Perhaps our reports are guided by some nugget of insightful sub-conscious truth that he, somehow, can disentangle from the meaningless? Or, perhaps, if I report misleadingly, he will negate my statements and assume the truth! As long as I speak to him, he wins.
***
On the first day, they began work on the incubation chamber. Styles had Sven dig a small hole within the compact dirt floor of the basement—a task that was much more difficult than it appeared—while the rest of them purchased red and blue lights using money left behind by Kara’s parents. For the next three days, Luna helped route the electricity and establish outlets while the rest of them worked on securing the basement. By the end of the fourth day the incubation chamber was complete. The next week and a half was spent purchasing various machine parts, and building a secret passage which was to become the sole means for ingress and egress. The construction of the passage, which involved an elaborate system of fake walls and tunnels, required so much raw material that they soon burned through all of Kara’s inheritance. It wasn’t until after Sven’s mother agreed to foot the bill that Styles admitted to having buried a small fortune near George’s home and sent Sven out to retrieve it. Though the passage was never completely finished, its partial construction did succeed in bestowing some privacy on their operations.
When they were not busy running around completing little tasks or purchasing random items, everyone usually relaxed at Kara’s place, which was roughly equal in size and equivalent in layout to Sven’s. Owing to the ingenuity of Kara’s belated parents, who were both part-time inventors, the home was garnished with all sorts of fun trinkets and inventions that never ceased to amaze Maggie and Ember. They were particularly enthralled with the intricate cogs of a wooden grandfather clock and the randomly connected, steam-punk inspired, bubble machine that would go off every hour.
The object that most interested Maggie and Ember, however, was an old black-and-white television set. There were, of course, no stations to be played, but Kara explained to them how, once upon a time, whole civilizations would stare upon those glassy screens and learn about the news or laugh at a variety of situational comedies—which of course she had to explain to them. Kara told them that although the governments destroyed all the records and movies of the past, her parents had purchased, for a considerable sum of money, a movie by the name of Casablanca on the black market long ago. She told them how, as a child, she had watched it hundreds of times, and expressed regrettably, how the movie was stolen from them when their house was burglarized. She had to, of course, recount in intricate detail, the plot of the film and subsequently answer all of their questions. “What’s an airplane?” “What’s Morocco?” “What’s a car?” “What’s World War II and what happened to World War I?” Though she was unable to answer many of these questions, she did the best she could and apologized for not doing better. “I was ten when I last saw it. That was nine years ago, I’m sorry, I just don’t remember.”
Kara also told them about computers and about how they, despite being ubiquitous during the early days of the Underground, are now extremely rare. Luna assisted with the explanation of the technical details and promised that they would see one soon since the sequencing of Toxicodendron radican’s genetic code necessitated it. Kara, with the help of Luna, also introduced the idea of the Internet, which they both understood only through vague terms. Kara also believed that the Internet was ubiquitous in the past. She expressed her belief that the government destroyed the Internet to keep the masses from uniting and that the procurement of the Mainframe of Knowledge by the revolutionaries would allow for the restoration of the Internet to all of the Underground. “This,” she said, “is yet another alternative to violent revolution. With access to information and means of communication, the revolution would be able to proceed peacefully.”
At night, after they had discussed everything that they felt they needed to discuss, they would play a popular board game called Surreptitious Subterranean Squatters—or S3. The aim of game was to avoid following into the Abyss—which Sven said was a real place within the Buffer Zone, famed for its danger and exotic black markets—by collecting resources and squatting on the other players’ properties. The attainment of all resources, and the subsequent success or failure of any squatting attempt, was governed probabilistically by a roll of the die. Though the decision as to which properties to buy or squat in had some element of chance, they almost exclusively relied upon mathematical calculations and game theory for optimal strategy. Sven and Kara played with the additional rule that allowed for properties to be traded—this, they argued, made the game more skillful and fun, though was technically against the official rules.
Ember and Maggie were both terrible at the game, but improved marginally over time. Luna, by contrast, was so unbelievably good that she was either forbidden from playing or was forced to play with a harsh negative handicap. She, however, didn’t mind. She enjoyed watching them play, sharing in their laughs, and commenting on each of their playing strategies after the game was over. Sven and Kara claimed that they were both, by normal, non-Luna standards, very good at the game.
Ember enjoyed the friendships he was building. He believed them to be more genuine than any bond he formed in Erosa, save for that which he had formed with his sister, but nonetheless felt as though something were missing. He felt like there were certain things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. He longed to have, once more a deep heart-felt conversation with his sister, but was never able to get her alone. What he really wanted, however, more than anything, was to get Kara alone and share his deepest thoughts and feelings with her. He wanted to tell her how sometimes at night his soul would call out for no reason at all and how, in the morning, he would be ashamed of it. He wanted to tell her how utterly insignificant he felt at times and how much he feared the absence of a transcendent purpose. Never before had Ember felt such an indescribable urge to share his deepest and most vulnerable thoughts with another human being.
He wanted to make bare his whole existence. He wanted to take out his heart and show it to her. He wanted to be naked in front of her. No secrets. Yet, he knew, that she had secrets, that much was plain. As long as those secrets remained unshared, he feared that he could never truly earn her trust or love.
Since there were enough covers and pillows at Kara’s place, they usually at least attempted to sleep separately. As the night progressed, however, it usually happened that two or more people ended up cuddling together. Though such arrangements were undeniably personal, they were, in the strictest sense, platonic. Maggie and Ember, out of old habit, usually spent the night by each other’s side. Luna, who never wanted to sleep alone, would rotate sleeping partners each night. Since she usually took the night shift with Styles, however, this didn’t happen too often.
Though they all slept in the same room, and though it was not uncommon for them to have long, intricate conversations before going to bed, Ember still felt as though much went unsai
d. Even with the calm knowledge of his approaching dreams, he still felt like something was missing.
Chapter 14: Conversations
On the second week, a stem appeared. Luna, who was there when it happened, said that it was the first time that she really saw Styles smile. The truth was that he was getting worried. He had expected the stem to come a few days ago, and the delay had caused him considerable apprehension. He blamed it, of course, on the sub-optimal growing conditions of the Underground and the frailty of the particular strain. Not for a moment did he believe that his overbearing equipment, or personal intervention was to blame—and not for a moment did anyone think of suggesting that it was.
Since the donning of the stem’s green head, Styles’ requests had become stranger and stranger. Although he maintained that it would still be another two weeks before he could begin the extraction and finish the corresponding sequencing, he explained that it was now time to begin procuring “the more necessary and persuasive tools of the mission.” The items on today’s agenda were, the Gladius and a pair of Baselards, a medium-length double edge sword and a type of dagger, respectively. The items, Styles assured, could be bought, albeit for a hefty sum, at a nearby black market and wouldn’t even require venturing into the Abyss.
Sven, and to a much lesser extent, Kara, were initially opposed to such a purchase. They argued that violence was not their way and made impassioned speeches about non-violent revolution—going as far as to suggest, although it can scarcely be doubted that they disagreed with their own words, that a revolution won through the means of violence was not one worth having. Styles, who was more frustrated with their opposition than anything else, initially offered little by the way of rationalization. It wasn’t until he observed Sven—who appeared ready to use the issue as an excuse to finally make a stand—that Styles offered that he would only use the tools for self-defense. So spurious was the suggestion, however, that Sven had no choice but to grumble lest he appear foolish.
“Good,” Styles said at last, “Well I’m glad that’s settled.” Sven frowned but did not say anything.
***
It was Maggie’s turn to spend the day with Styles, which, in and of itself, was nothing special. She had already done this duty twice before, but on both occasions Ember stayed to keep her company. Today, for the first time since entering the Underground, Ember and Maggie were splitting up. The parting was met with trepidation on both sides and though neither stopped to make his or her feelings explicit, it was internally noted by each that today was momentous.
A lot had changed in two weeks, and in many respects, at least with regards to Ember and Maggie’s relationship, not for the better. The developments of new friendships had, necessarily, taken away from the time that they could spend alone together. This realization weighed all too heavily in Maggie’s mind as her brother left, and she, feeling guilty—for she, perhaps more than him, had been all too eager to explore the intricacies of her new friendships—resolved to once again have a deep conversation with her brother later that night.
It had been arranged that Sven, Kara and Ember would go pick up the swords at the black market. Owing to its proximity to the place from which Ember and Maggie had first entered the Underground, Styles was initially reluctant to let Ember go.
“The Police,” Styles explained, “will be all over that place. Though it has been two weeks since the entrance has last been used, they will undoubtedly be surveying the area.”
“So you’re telling us to be careful?” Kara asked, desiring for Styles to show some concern for them.
“If you get caught, don’t tell them about the plant,” he said with a shrug, as if they were completely disposable. Kara and Ember shared an exasperated huff, and Maggie laughed out of awkwardness.
Luna, at Maggie’s last second urging, agreed to stay with her to keep her company. Styles had no complaint with the arrangement.
***
“This is boring,” Maggie said, approximately one hour after her brother left with Kara and Sven. She looked around at Styles’ convoluted contraptions. She had understood the need for the incubator and she had even accepted the construction of an immense structure whose sole purpose it was to drip water at a slow rate and, at even intervals, spray a weird chemical—presumably liquid fertilizer—but what she did not understand was all the other nonsense equipment. Since the beginning of the undertaking, the pile of machinery and glassware had grown steadily and was now so large that it covered the whole side of the basement wall.
“What do you need all this stuff for?” she said, rising from the couch and wandering over to Styles’ work area.
“Don’t touch that!” he snapped. She was standing by a large balloon-like structure with a heavy mechanical base, into which dripped two other liquids at a slow rate, and out of which the excess product material pooled into a sealed plastic container.
“What does this even do?!”
Styles was evidently annoyed but explained nonetheless, “It releases carbon dioxide through this small aperture on the bottom, and puffs it onto the plant at a controlled rate.” She stared blanklessly. “You know… because the plant needs carbon dioxide for photosynthesis… Sit down, I don’t want you hovering near the plant, you might fall and break one of my machines. I hear you’re quite the klutz.” Styles was alluding to an incident yesterday in which Maggie tripped, rather embarrassingly, on the way to Kara’s house. Styles had not been there to personally witness the event, but had heard about it indirectly through Luna.
Maggie flushed. “You know, back where I’m from, we grow things with nothing but dirt and our hands and everything turns out just fine!” She stepped back away from the machine, but, so as to not appear completely submissive, did not return to the couch. “You know… you’re really rude.” Since he didn’t say anything, she thought it only fair to further lambast him. “For example, just now… when you talked about me falling… you didn’t express any concern if I should hurt myself… and earlier, when my brother went out with Kara and Sven to the market… you didn’t so much as wish them luck… And… you’re staying at Sven’s house, and used up almost all of Kara’s money, and you haven’t said so much as a single thank you. You don’t even talk to Mrs. Helsinki anymore.” His continued silence angered her. “Why? Answer me!”
“You want to know why?” he said, turning away from his work to look her in the eyes, “because I don’t care. I don’t care if you hurt yourself when you fall and quite truthfully, I don’t care if your brother gets caught by the Police—granted he doesn’t tell them about my mission or my whereabouts. If anyone should be grateful it should be you guys.”
“How so?”
“Without me you wouldn’t even have found the seeds. Without me you wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to even extract the DNA let alone sequence it. Tell me, what do you know about DNA? Nothing? That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t need to say it like that!”
“And without me, you won’t be able to get to the Gate. Face it, it’s you who needs me, not the other way around. Where’s my thank you?” He paused for a moment and resumed focus on his work. “And, by the way, I’ll have you know that Mrs. Helsinki loves me.”
Maggie sat back down, still frustrated with his conduct, but pleased that she had at least got him to express some emotion. After some time of internal debate Maggie finally muttered, “Thank you,” her justification being that it would open him up to further discourse. It did not.
Styles didn’t seem to have normal human emotion. He had, for example, no desire to brag or explain. The few explanations that he did offer were so superficial in nature and so narrow in scope that they seemed to be offered only as a means to placate others—enough to satisfy and justify without encouraging questions. He had no desire to teach and seemed to have no pride in his work. The few times that Maggie complimented him, he simply shrugged and remained silent. Indeed, it was Maggie’s goal to get him to express anything so much as resembling e
motion beyond anger, sarcasm or wry condescension.
The ensuing silence was broken by Mrs. Helsinki’s triple knock, which was to indicate Styles’ mealtime. He opened up a narrow slit at the bottom of the newly constructed fake wall, and in came his meal with a note on the corner of the asymmetrically shaped ceramic plate. Styles crumpled up the note and threw it on the ground before moving to devour the meal.
Maggie picked up the note and read it to herself. Hey Kid-oh! I hope you’re not working too hard! You should really get some rest! Love, Mrs. Helsinki. P.S. I baked some special chocolates into your bread today, I hope you like it! Maggie laughed, and passed the note on for Luna to read.
“How’s the bread today?” Maggie teased, with the tone of one who made no effort to conceal one’s knowledge. Styles narrowed his eyes a little to express annoyance, much to Maggie’s satisfaction, and continued eating. Feeling ambitious, Maggie attempted to elicit embarrassment, “Hey Styles? How come you always ask Luna to join you here.” Luna smiled, not from the implication, but rather from the mere mention of her name. “Is it because you like her?”
“Because she’s the only one amongst you all who has half a brain and half an idea about what is actually going on.”
“And what is ‘actually going on?’”
“My point exactly.”
Maggie frowned. “So you like her?”
“She’s tolerable,” he admitted.
“So you like her?” Maggie said. For the first time since entering the Underground, Maggie felt like she was having a genuine Erosan conversation, and she wanted to hold on to the illusion a bit longer. “Did you hear that Luna, he thinks you’re ‘tolerable.’”
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