by Desy Smith
“You could be killed if any of this got back to Emperor,” I inform him.
“Again, I’m aware, but you didn’t answer my question.” I scratch my head, not really knowing how to answer that.
“Why would Emperor make that up?” I ask Knighthood. Knighthood doesn’t say anything.
“Is there even a planet Earth?” I ask him, now unsure about anything I’ve learned so far.
“Yes, I’ve visited it hundreds of times. The Disturbed are real as well.”
“So what’s false?” I question.
“The story about how the Disturbed became the Disturbed.” I scratch my head again, confused. He’s playing with me— he has to be. I mean, he was on the shuttle with Emperor, Highness, and the others when they landed on Gaia. If the story was being told incorrectly, wouldn’t Emperor and Highness correct everyone?
“Why haven’t you said anything?” I question, now sitting back down. “Why haven’t you corrected the scholars? Why let us think that?”
“What if we were forced to think that?” Knighthood asks. His eyes were red and glazed over.
“You’re high and you’re fucking with me,” I tell him. Hell I might be high too, contact high was no joke.
“I’m definitely high, but I’m not fucking with you.” Maybe I’m the only one high then because what hes saying, couldn’t be factual.
“You're saying the women erased all of you guys' memories,” I state, now clarifying, not believing that for a second. We men, prideful as we are, wouldn’t let that shit happen.
“What if the women's memories were erased, too?” Knighthood ask.
“If the men and women's memories were erased . . . ” I trail off, putting the pieces together in my mind. “It means someone . . . someone on that shuttle did it purposely.”
“Exactly,” Knighthood replies, now looking at the tent ceiling.
“But why?” I question. “No, better question, who?”
“Yes, who, indeed,” he says as he falls on his back, still looking at the ceiling. “As you can see, we have no time to waste.”
“What?” I ask him, even more confused.
“I set you up for a reason, Horatio,” he confesses. “Your life of lazy luxury is over. I need you. Your planet of Gaia and the men of Scipio need you.”
“I’m guessing I don’t have a choice in any of this?” I question on a sigh.
“Nope,” he replies.
Chapter Three – Essence
Planet: Gaia
Diara: Women’s Division
11 years later . . .
I grab hold of my seat belt, taking calming breaths as the turbulence in the air shook us once more, scaring me to no end. For two years now, I’ve been a part of these monthly Earth recon missions, and still, I despise flying. Regardless of what the women of Diara thought, women are not meant to fly.
“Sorry, Essence,” Cher, the pilot and today’s HBIC - head babe in charge - apologizes. If it were any of the other girls who are part of Grand Dame’s She-Heroes team, a name she bestowed upon the twelve girls she hand-selected, were the pilot, they would see to my discomfort. It goes without saying, none of them liked me. I suppose I wouldn’t like me, either, if I appeared in the middle of the night out of thin air. The girls knew something was amiss and the extra training and alone time with Grand Dame also didn’t help matters either.
A sneer from Amelia makes me roll my eyes. Here she goes in three, two, one.
“We’re so sorry, Princess Essence, that the shuttle ride is not to your liking,” she teases, making the others seated next to her chuckle. I ignore her, not wanting to drop-kick her ass, again. Grand Dame hates when we purposely injured each other, practices excluded, saying something along the lines of needing all her babies well and able to defend, if ever the time came, even though the time hadn’t come in our five hundred years of being on Gaia. I take a few more calming breaths before I open my mouth.
“We can’t survive in space,” I tell Amelia before swallowing, feeling the need to throw up. “As soon as your skin touches the darkness out there, it freezes you to the core within seconds.”
“Okay, and your point is?” Amelia questions, looking every bit confused.
“I’d think twice about fucking with me when you aren’t suited and the exit door is directly next to you.” Amelia crosses her arms over her non-existent chest. She gives me the finger before turning to the others and resuming her conversation.
The turbulence rattles us again, causing me to nervously clutch at my seat belt, this time unbuckling it. I rise on shaky knees, making my way to the front where Cher is. Lucy is in the passenger seat next to her, reading one of her textbooks for class.
“Back!” I bark at Lucy, louder than necessary while quickly covering my mouth, afraid this time the vomit may actually appear. She rolls her eyes before she gets up, grabbing her book, and sack pack, purposely bumping into me as she makes her way to the others.
“Threatening to throw Amelia out into space, taking Lucy’s seat, and you wonder why they don’t like you,” Cher says sympathetically as she reaches to her left, handing me my trusty brown paper bag. The scent of lavender immediately calms me as I begin breathing in and out of it.
My mind seems to always go back to that night when Grand Dame took me from Madame and the others. To this day, I can’t bring myself to visit Madame or my school friends. My prescence could somehow remind them of those memories which is dangerous to their mental health. AND if I attempted to try to make them remember those erased memories, it could yielded inreversiable results, like a coma. I’ve always wondered why she didn’t make me forget them, as well. Of course, I never asked her, never had the balls to do so. If she would have erased my memories of them as well, it would have made my transition into my new life, a whole lot easier. My body jerked abruptly, signaling that the plane has finally landed. I cry out in joy. Fucking finally!
“Listen up, you guys,” Cher calls out, as the six of us meet at the back of the plane. She’s holding what appears to be glasses. I marvel at them, never having seen a pair personally, only reading about them in class. Due to our twenty/twenty eyesight, the women of Diara didn’t have a need for correctional lenses, or the plastic devices one can stick in their eyes. I take note of the small square device stuck on the right lens. I can’t recall ever reading about that device being attached to the glasses. “You’ve got two hours,” she holds up her watch, we all follow suit. “Two hours and five minutes, set it now.” We synch our watches.
“Make sure you bring along your sack packs. Can’t have you out here dying from dehydration.” Cher clears her throat. “If you aren’t back before the two hours and now,” she looks at her stopwatch, “Four minutes, we will not send a rescue party for you, we will leave your ass.” She looks at Green, who is looking everywhere but at her.
Green stumbled into some trouble three trips ago where a cluster of the Disturbed cornered her alone. None of us knew how they were able to marginalize considering they lost all common sense and intelligence once they became what they are now. But they did. Since it was my mission, I couldn’t - well, wouldn’t - leave her behind. Breaking protocol, I went and found her. Surprisingly, she had not one mark on her body. We didn’t understand it and Grand Dame didn’t offer any insight into the matter. Instead, she punished all six of us on the trip. But she punished me most severely— I ran suicides for an hour every day until the next mission.
“I will be available to talk with you all through the two-way earpieces. Dial into the station that you were assigned to last night for us to chat.” We all nod our heads simultaneously. “Also, we’re trying something new. As you know, the two-way earpieces cannot record visual representation of what you see out there. That’s why you have these.” She hands us each our very own pair of glasses. Mine are pink cheetah print, stylish. “Off you go,” she tells us. Cher pushes the button which opens the shuttle door and pushes out the stairs.
&nbs
p; “Highness has a separate assignment for you,” Cher says to me, stopping me in my tracks.
“Princess!” Amelia teases as she and the girls step off the shuttle, giggling. Cher goes to the front and comes back holding a folder.
“Here, read it as you head there. Apparently, there’s no time to waste.” She points to the scarf worn fashionably around my head. It’s infused with iron, preventing others from reading my mind or controlling it. When I started out, Grand Dame used to force me to wear it because I had very little to almost no control over my telepathic abilities then. Now I suppose wearing it was second nature. I never left my room in the Palace without it. “Leave that here. I can’t read your mind with it on, and I need to be able to read your mind. You’re solo on this, Essence. I can’t and won’t lose my best friend.” She playfully shoulder bumps me. “Get going,” she calls out to me. I place the dust mask over my nose before heading out, the scent of lavender filling my nostrils
“You better hope I make it back or you’ll be stuck with Amelia,” I tease my voice coming out muffled due to the mask.
“I’d kiss Serenity’s ass before I’d even think of befriending Amelia,” Cher replies as she gestures for me to leave.
It always amazed me how Earth in the year 2600 did not resemble Earth from 2100, at least not according to photos in my History book. I recall the glossy pictures of tall glass buildings called skyscrapers, apartments, and even houses, some one-, two-, and three-stories, some as big as the Palace in Diara, all different shapes, sizes, colors, some old, others new. Oh, and streets, busy crosswalks - I believe that’s what they’re called - filled with so many people, women, men, and children all at one time. Animals, dogs, cats, birds - pets is what they’re referred to in the books also roamed Earth back then.
- Now, the tall glass buildings were obsolete or destroyed, the glass shattered, littering the ground. The apartments, houses, all destroyed, burned to the ground, the colors they once were washed away, leaving behind the greys, browns, and blacks from the fires set in attempts to destroy the Disturbed, all of which failed. The streets and crosswalks are now full of weeds and grass. The animals are gone, all of them, infected by the stench of the Disturbed. The people, women, men, and children, also gone, replaced with creatures who never showed any emotion. The Disturbed truly did destroy Earth.
I continue walking, ignoring the scenery or lack thereof, listening to the mindless rambling of the Disturbed. Their minds always recall those olden days. I was puzzled and amazed at the specific things they remembered. Some thought about their loved ones, others about beautiful scenery. I wondered if these were the same Disturbed from the year 2100. Once they became Disturbed, did they too stop aging as the women and men did in Gaia? And though it’s weird and probably not possible, are they reproducing? I posed the question to Grand Dame once and even she didn’t know, which is surprising because she knows everything. I suppose I, well we, would never know.
Not seeing or mentally hearing any of the Disturbed in close proximity to me, I decide to open the folder Cher gave me. Inside is a single piece of copy paper. I read it quickly, something about a shipment at a warehouse holding a product labeled V. I pull out my map and look for the warehouse, which is ten miles from my current location, that’s if I’m reading this right. I’m terrible with direction.
Cher? I call out to her telepathically.
Yes, my love? she replies instantly.
What’s my location?
Latitude: 120 . . . she begins and trails off, now laughing, knowing damn well that means nothing to me. Where are you trying to go? she questions as I stop walking, looking back at the copy paper.
Warehouse 9X I tell her.
Fifteen miles, straight ahead. If you run into any body of water, you’ve gone the wrong way.
Gotcha, I reply.
Click the square shape on the glasses to begin the recording, she reminds me.
The two-story warehouse is dimly lit, due to the windows on the second floor appearing to be covered halfway by some type of paper or material, maybe even feces or blood. I wasn’t sure nor was I going to find out. I notice a set of stairs that appear to be rusty, no longer the orange or red color they once were. Boxes littered the ground along with metal rails and a small-size tractor. In the far corner stood something covered in a tarp. I guess that would be the V.
I walk toward it and undo the rope with a knife from my sack, keeping the tarp on top of it. Dozens of boxes sit underneath it, no label but a code, TEST 235.
Are you getting this? I ask Cher mentally.
I won’t be able to see any visuals until we download it to the servers on Gaia, Cher replies back. Well, that sucks. I turn my attention back to the boxes. Who even knew what this stuff is? It could be dangerous. I quickly stick the knife into one of the boxes, waiting for goo or something to spill out of it, when a crystal-like substance falls out instead. I step back hesitantly. I look to the floor, wary of it combusting or something. When nothing happens, I cut the box open and see several small plastic translucent size bags, containing more of this crystal stuff.
What is it? Cher asks me.
Something crystal-like, I reply to her. You think I should take some back with me? I ask her, now holding the plastic bag.
No! she screams. The paper said to write down the test number, not bring a sample back. I sigh.
I should have known you read it, I tell her.
I couldn’t help myself, she replies. Go ahead and write it down and come back. I’m bored out my mind. I look at it once more, not knowing what to do. Leave it there, Essence, she tells me again. I’m careful to not think anything, already knowing what I want to do as I stuff the package into my sack pack. It’s a lot harder than it sounds to not think considering you always think about stuff before doing it, but with practice, I’ve learned to do it
On my way back, I tell Cher mentally. She cheers in response.
“What are you doing here, woman?” A male voice startles me. I jump, turning around, trying to identify where the voice came from. A tall male lays on the dirty ground, his hands tucked behind his hand, looking up at the ceiling. Freaking psycho. I notice the Scipio sigil, the custom shield with a spear. We women of Diara think it resembles a circle with a confused arrow. The sigil is also located in the middle of the bandana around his head, something the men wear to avoid having their minds read by us women.
“Did I startle you?” his gruff voice questions. I can’t recall there ever being a time when the men and women of Gaia have ever ran into each other during our recon missions on Earth. I couldn’t help but think that they were somehow ear hustling us on Gaia. I suppose the teachings in Diara are right, that the men thought they could lead but really all they did was follow.
“You must have followed me here,” I state as I approach him. “You men definitely don’t possess the skills or talents to do anything on your own.” He scoffs in response.
“How insulting,” he says as he gets up, now approaching me. He appeared taller as he stood up, and that’s saying a lot because I’m the tallest of the women at five-feet-ten. He had to be at least six-feet-four, and he wasn’t lanky and petite like me. No, he’s thick, solid, built like a mountain. I read that expression in a book once before, though I’ve never used it until now. His butterscotch coloring made him appear a darker shade of brown in the shadows but lighter when the sun reflected off his face. I’m surprised he isn’t bald like the majority of Knighthood’s Heroes, a name Knighthood stole from Grand Dame, by the way. Instead, the hair on his head is short, he has a goatee that’s cut low, and his jawline is cleanly shaven. You could tell he took pride in his looks.
“I suppose you would have thought of something more original if you weren’t checking me out,” he teases. He crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. “You like what you see?” His voice deepens.
From the way you described him, he sounds delicious, Cher says to me mentally
.
You’re just horny.
No, seriously, geesh, she’s literally begging for some action as we speak, Cher replies.
Eww. I did not care to know how certain parts of her body were feeling.
“It’s rude to ignore me, woman,” he says, surprising me by reaching for the glasses on my face. I swat his hands away. His eyes go wide, surprised by my action. When he reaches for them again, I ready myself. Are men really that stupid? I swat his hand away again, but his other hand wraps around my waist, startling me. He pulls me toward him, forcing out a noise I don’t think I’ve ever made before. When I collide with his hard body, he smiles and takes the glasses off my face, putting them on his face.
Did you just whimper? Cher asks me mentally as she laughs. I ignore her as I try to get the glasses back. He turns around quickly, evading my hands, before turning back around with no glasses. Shit!
“Give them back!” I tell him as I pat his body, trying to feel for them.
“Stop,” he fakes laughter, “your baby hands are tickling me.” I gasp. The audacity of this man.
I stop to look at my hands as I exclaim, “I do not have baby hands!”
“You gotta admit, they’re pretty damn small.” Oh, my gosh, I’ve never been so insulted in my life. The mental sound of mindless babbling makes me turn my head in the direction of the Disturbed, whose now walking into the warehouse. There must be a dozen of them. “Took them long enough,” the man says, making me gasp again. He set me up. He must have ran into them on his way here, got their attention, to which they followed him. One thing about the Disturbed, they moved really slow, snail-pace slow. I always wondered how at there pace, they could infect the others, back then.
I can’t believe he just set me up like that. He then rips my sack pack from my back, tearing the straps as he pushes me to the ground. I lay there, utterly shocked again that he would snoop so low. That bastard! I snap out of it quickly, knowing now isn’t the time to get distracted.
