by RF Hurteau
“A hundred!” she said, shocked, “What do they need a hundred stasis pods for?”
“Supposedly, they’re working on all kinds of stuff. That’s why all the pods need to be set up differently. And of course, we’ve come up with some theories of our own, too.”
“Like what?”
“Well, they’ve said they’re working on a way to use the pods to help heal serious injuries. From what I’ve heard, there are a lot of serious injuries down in the Geothermal Plant. But,” he leaned forward conspiratorially, “I think they’re working on a cure for the Sequencing.”
“What! Come on,” she said, punching him playfully in the arm. “You mean, for real?”
Ben offered another shrug. “A lot of the programming I do has to do with genetic data. It makes sense.”
“Get off it,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course they need genetic data if they’re going to put people in them. They’d need to be able to monitor vital signs, and diagnose illnesses, right?”
“I guess.”
“So, what other theories do you have?”
“Well, there’s the one where the Council might use them to keep criminals in stasis. You know, so they don’t have to waste food on them.”
Sylvia was both intrigued and disturbed. “That’s an interesting idea,” she admitted, reluctantly.
“Yeah, but I don’t buy it. If they put the criminals in stasis, who will run Geo? They might also use them to suspend parts of the population in times of food shortages,” Ben went on, “though they’d need a lot more than a hundred to make a difference. They’d need thousands.”
“Oh, I hope that’s not true!” Sylvia shuddered, imagining being locked in a pod, helpless and alone.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” said Ben, stretching, “Anyway, I’m tired. Another exciting day in Pod Manufacturing tomorrow! I need my beauty rest.”
“Right,” said Sylvia, standing. “Me, too. Goodnight, Ben.”
“G’night, Syl.”
She moved to the door to turn off the light, and listened, chancing a peek out into the hall, which was quiet. She spotted her father in the kitchen, sitting sullenly. He was eating his cold soup, her mother standing over him with her arms crossed, the hint of a smile on her face at the sight of justice being done.
Sylvia hit the switch and moved to her bed. Too tired to change out of her uniform, she tossed the papers on her bedside table, laid down, and fell asleep.
three
Cause and Effect
Strictly speaking, people weren't supposed to walk along the Tube tracks. Ripley and Felix, however, weren't the first people ever to find themselves kicked off the Tube, wandering the dimly lit walkway that followed the gentle curve of the tunnel. The domes measured a mile in diameter, and there was about a mile of tunnel connecting each of them to the next. The cooler temperatures seemed to make the journey feel a lot longer to Ripley. There were vagrants down here as well, but with plenty of places to hide they were rarely seen on the main line, where Security was likely to find them.
Sometimes, when he wanted to be alone, Ripley would come down here to explore. He never wandered far, though. Sanctuary's Maintenance crews kept the main line lit, but the lights in the tunnels and shafts that branched off had mostly burnt out long ago. Just like in the Observatory, it seemed that no one had the time to keep up appearances in the hidden underbelly of the city. Over ten thousand people lived in Sanctuary. Most of them likely had no idea of the sorry state that their main mode of transportation was in. Sometimes small, handwritten signs were placed at the entrance to one of the tunnels. They declared "D5 Market Station" or "D1 Maintenance," evidence of those who had come before and struggled to find their way. Most of the tunnels had no such signage, their subterranean depths left neglected and forgotten.
Felix looked around with amazement. "Wow, this place is kind of a dump, huh?" he remarked. Ripley walked several paces ahead. Felix kept falling behind, stopping to pick up trinkets as they went. "Come on, buddy. You can't stay mad at me forever. How was I supposed to know they'd make us walk? I mean, it was just a vape! You think it's cause I'm a Halfsie?"
Ripley rolled his eyes. "You think everything is because you're a Halfsie," he pointed out. "They revoked our Tube privileges for a week! You know how early I'm going to have to wake up to be on time now?"
"Well you didn't have to defend me. I had the situation under control."
"You offered to let him try and gave him a demonstration!" Ripley said in exasperation.
"Well, clearly your diplomatic approach didn’t work, either." Felix jogged up beside him. He held out his hand. "Here. For you."
Ripley took the offering. It was a pair of pliers. He flexed the handles, feeling the slight resistance of rust in the hinge. Why would someone throw pliers down here? He shrugged, slipping them into the pocket of his vest and giving Felix a wary look. "I'm still mad at you."
There came a sudden clanging from somewhere behind them. It echoed for a while, ricocheting wildly off the metal walls before fading away. Unlike the clean, smooth white walls of Sigil, the Tube’s path was constructed from a mixture of riveted panels of corrugated steel and concrete. Newer panels, freshly galvanized and gleaming, were interspersed among the original construction, where over a century’s worth of exposure to the elements had taken their toll. The whole tunnel had the appearance of an ugly patchwork quilt.
Felix grinned. "Don't be such a pessimist. Don't think about how long it will take to get to work. Think how awesome it will be spending time with me! Your best friend, Felix, the Magnificent!"
A smile tugged at the corner of Ripley's lips. "I can hardly wait," he said, sarcastically. "I'm so grateful for the opportunity to walk down these creepy tunnels full of weird noises. By myself. Seeing as you've got your bed at Sigil."
"Oh yeah, I do! Bad luck for you, then,” Felix replied nonchalantly. "It's not my fault they make me stay nights. What if one of the motion sensors went off and no one was there to sound the alarm?" There was a rumbling behind them, and they stepped to the edge of the walkway to allow wide birth to a passing train. "Could be worse, you know." He bent to examine another potential treasure. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand, then chucked it away, unimpressed. "I mean, at least you're in D5 so it's closer than my place. And the weather's nice."
Ripley tried not to laugh, but it was hard to argue with that. In school, they'd been taught how, outside of Sanctuary, there were scorching deserts and flood plains, tornadoes and storms. In Antarctica, there were months of darkness, and months of twilight, when the sun never rose above the horizon at all. The domes had been carefully crafted to simulate day and night, but Ripley knew that outside, it was dark more often than not. They'd been taught to have a healthy respect for the constant, comfortable temperature and lack of uncertainty. Yet Ripley found himself looking upward sometimes. He'd imagine the warm, unobstructed heat of the sun on his face. Instead he was met only by the gentle, frosted glow of the illuminated dome high above.
Felix's voice broke through his reverie. "Ripley?"
"Yeah, Felix?"
"You still mad?"
Ripley's fingers traced the pliers in his pocket. Felix was an unmotivated, lazy, mischief-making slob.
He was also the best, most loyal friend Ripley had ever known.
"Nah, I'm not mad," he decided.
"Good. Because Willow will be, and I'm going to blame you."
* * *
The dome's glow had already begun to fade when they emerged from the tunnels, signaling closing time for the shops that dotted the street outside the Tube Station. The domes simulated sunlight, allowing them to grow food and reap those benefits that the outside world obtained from normal exposure.
A lifetime of exploring with Felix after school had taught Ripley which market had the best price for which items, what shopkeepers would haggle, and those to avoid. He’d always loved the market. It was so different from the rigidly scheduled school or the mun
dane doldrums of Sigil. It was lively, colorful, and full of all sorts of people. In the market, everyone was free to make their own choices, instead of dutifully following orders like mindless automatons.
Felix held out his vape pen. "Do you have any fuel cells at your place? I don't have my spares."
Ripley raised an eyebrow. "You can't even be serious right now. First you get us kicked off the Tube over that thing, and now you want me to be your enabler? Felix, you're a special kind of crazy."
"Oh, come on. Everybody needs something to relax them. I like my vape. It de-stresses me!"
Ripley sighed. "I don't even know what you have to be stressed about." Yet somehow he found his feet veering to the right, toward a small concrete booth adorned with bright red streamers. "James!" he shouted, waving a hand above his head to draw the older man's attention, the sharp pain in his side returning as he did so. "Hold up!"
James smiled kindly as he stopped what he was doing. "Ripley! Fate favors you today. I'd have been home five minutes ago if I could get this infernal thing down." He glared upward. "Fiendish chain," he grumbled.
"Well, glad we caught you,” Ripley said. He hopped the counter and Felix followed. James stepped aside as Ripley reached up and gave a sharp tug on the chain, then another. He gritted his teeth as he willed the shutter to close. A sharp, grating sound made them all grimace as it began to yield, and a rolling metal shutter came down to meet the counter.
"Thank you, Ripley! It's always been stubborn, but it's gotten much worse the past couple of months. Or maybe I'm just getting old and weak. Who can say?"
Ripley peered up to where the edge of the shutter disappeared into a channel that ran to the stall's roof. "No problem, James. Looks like it might be rusty. I'll come take a look at it next week and see if I can fix it." He glared at Felix. "I'll probably be down this way every night till then. I'll help you pull it down if you don't mind waiting for me."
"Oh, I'd be grateful! Now, was there something you needed?"
"Do you have any fuel cells?" Felix inquired. "Size two."
James nodded thoughtfully, turning to rummage through a box underneath the counter. "Yes, you're in luck, I have a few here. A charger, as well?"
Felix shook his head. "No, I have one at home," he said, casting a sheepish grin in Ripley's direction. "Wasn't planning to be out so late."
"Well, mind you don't stay out too much later," said James in a grim tone. "I've got no problem with your kind, of course, but this time of year riles up the crazies, you know? The ones that still blame the Elves for…" here he waved a gnarled hand vaguely toward the dome. "All of this." James was clutching the fuel cells, which he passed to Felix, whose hand had been extended in eager anticipation. "Be careful. Last night I heard there was some kind of altercation, right here! In the market!"
Unfazed, Felix began screwing his pen back together. He took a drag and smiled, wisps of vapor escaping between his gleaming white teeth.
"Thanks, James," said Ripley, putting his wrist out automatically.
"No, no, don't worry about it," replied James, "Oh my! Did you get that from my shutter?" A large bruise was peeking out from beneath Ripley's cuff. James reached forward to take a closer look, but Ripley jerked his arm away.
Ripley tugged his sleeve down. "It's nothing," he said quickly. "Accident."
Felix gave him a questioning look, but Ripley offered no explanation. Instead, he looked back at James, who was ushering them toward the door. "Are you sure we can't pay you?"
"Oh no, it's the least I can do. I'll be holding you to your word! You'll be back to fix it, right?"
"Of course," Ripley replied kindly.
"Well then, if you'll excuse me, my wife will not be happy if she's cooked a hot meal and it's cold when I arrive. She thinks I talk too much!" He chuckled as he turned and hobbled away.
"James sure is a nice guy,” Felix said, with an approving nod.
"You're going to help me fix that shutter," answered Ripley.
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
They walked a little quicker now, heading toward Ripley's place. It wasn't much to speak of—few of the homes really were. There were the large, black stone homes reserved for Council members and their families, and some of the wealthier vendors. Most people, however, lived in small apartments. Some were born, raised families, and died, all in the same time-worn, tiny home. Felix walked in quiet contentment, puffing away, but Ripley kept hearing James' warning in his head. Humans, Elves and Halfsies generally remained, if not friendly, at least civil. There were occasional skirmishes, of course. But the Anniversary celebrations were guaranteed to lead to talking, and the talking would lead to finger pointing, and all the pent-up resentment would suddenly be right there. Right beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. Ripley had seen first-hand what could happen next. It wasn't pretty.
He was still preoccupied with worry as they got off the lift on his floor. He should have insisted Felix go home. He shouldn't have brought him here, not now.
"Hey," he said, trying to keep his tone light, "Want to crash here tonight?"
"Oh man," said Felix. "I'm so glad you offered, because I wasn't looking forward to walking those tracks after lights out. Spooky, you know?"
"Yeah. Spooky."
"Aw, Ripley, you worry too much." Felix laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave several pats. Ripley flinched. "Hey, you okay?" Felix said with renewed concern. "What was James talking about before? Did you get hurt?"
"I'm fine," said Ripley. "Really. I just got a little banged up."
"How?"
"At work."
"What happened?"
"I tripped."
Felix's eyebrow disappeared beneath his curly brown locks. "Tripped?"
"Yeah," Ripley muttered, not looking at his friend.
"You…tripped." Felix pondered for a moment, then grinned as a thought came to him. "What were you doing, staring at a pretty girl?"
Ripley forced a smile and was grateful to come to the door to his quarters. He went to enter his code before he noticed the tiny red light above the keypad indicating there was someone inside. He glanced up, for a moment wondering if he was at the wrong door. But there it was, 628, his apartment. He looked at Felix, who had that same look of excitement in his eyes as he'd had back in the Observatory. "Unexpected guests?" he inquired in a whisper. "Shall we see who's come calling?" Ripley had a few ideas, none of them good. Felix didn't wait for an answer, though. He punched in Ripley's code and, with a flourish, pushed the door wide.
Inside, on the edge of the bed, sat a beautiful Theran woman.
She had her knees up, slender arms clasped protectively around them as she sat, staring at the ceiling. Long auburn hair cascaded down her back, the tilt of her head revealing her delicately pointed ears.
"Willow!" Felix exclaimed, rushing forward. She rose in one graceful movement and he embraced her. "Why are you here?"
She gave them a small smile. "I'm so glad to see you! I'm sorry for letting myself in, Ripley. I thought you'd be home ages ago."
Felix cleared his throat. "I don't know why everyone keeps bringing that up," he mumbled.
"Well," she began, "I'm not really sure if—" she paused, chewing the inside of her lip. She looked at Felix. "I wasn't expecting to see you until the Anniversary. Why are you here?"
Felix let out a grunt of mock indignation. "It hardly seems proper for a woman to be asking her husband that question when he finds her in another man's apartment!"
Ripley knew Felix was just messing with her. Willow had been his friend for almost as long as Felix had. It had always been clear that she and Felix were destined to be together. She'd given up a future of prestige and comfort when she married him. Willow most likely would have sat on the Elder Council someday, like her father before her. To her parents’ great disappointment, she'd chosen to forge her own path. Not long after, Sigil’s education committee had instituted a policy barring Halfsies from attendance at the sha
red school. The Council always talked about integration for a “more cohesive community,” but those were just words. Ripley had long suspected Willow's father, Nero, had had a hand in the change, to prevent future “tragedies” like his daughter.
Apart from Theran Heritage studies, which Humans and Halfsies weren’t privy too, the students had been treated almost as equals until that point, without regard to race. Ripley feared that as this new, segregated generation grew up, tensions would become worse than ever.
"At first," Willow began again, "I was excited. I always knew it was a possibility, but I never really put much thought into it." Her words began to tumble out, as if they'd been bottled up inside and were now spilling out all at once. "I knew last week on your day off, but I wanted to make it special, so I decided to wait. And I was going to come ask Ripley for advice on how to make it special, since he knows you better than anyone…so I decided to come today after my appointment—"
"Appointment?" Felix said sharply, "What kind of appointment? What's wrong?"
"Oh!" Willow said, flustered. “I'm okay, it's just, well…I'm pregnant." Ripley and Felix both took a moment to process this. Felix's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, like a fish out of water. Ripley broke into a wide grin and smacked him on the shoulder.
"Felix? A father? Now that's something! I didn't know you could be a father if you never grew up yourself!" Ripley laughed as he enjoyed the rare pleasure of seeing Felix speechless. He gave Willow a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you both!" But when Ripley pulled away, he saw that her brown eyes, so beautiful with tiny specks of gold, were now glistening with tears. His smile faded to a frown, and he glanced at Felix.
"I'm…I'm going to be a father?" Felix whispered, "We're going to have a baby?" He jumped out of his chair and grabbed Willow around her waist, swinging her around. "I'm going to be a father!" he repeated, shouting now. "We're going to have a baby!"
Ripley was torn between joy and confusion as he watched Willow. Willow began to sob. Felix looked genuinely confused, turning to Ripley for help. "What did I say?" he mouthed. Turning back to Willow, he guided her back to Ripley's bed, where she sat once more. "What's the matter? You're okay, right? And the baby's okay? Is this hormones? Sweet Evenmire, does that start this early? I mean, I know there's something about hormones and crying, but—"
