“Stroke?”
“Apoplexy.”
Skylar stared at her fingers, lithe appendages that were far more soft and manicured than those of the women he knew. His jaw worked in agitation as he thought of Lady Rain filing his mother’s nails.
“I believe she is happier with her family.” He tried to sound as bored as possible to hide his turbulent thoughts. “I find she is most responsive after long visits with me or my sisters.”
“Of course.” Dr. Nichols smiled. “It sounds like your mother enjoys the company of her children. Whatever induces happiness and peace of mind is the best course of action in the absence of modern medicine.”
“Is ... my father well cared for?”
“Yes.” She removed her hand and adjusted her position on the chair so that her ankles crossed to the side. Both he and Leaf focused on objects around the room and not her legs. “Formal charges are not being issued, per request,” she continued, business-like. “Therefore, I signed the release papers for his permanent residence in a psychiatric home for adult patients.”
“Thank you, My Lady.”
“Does your mother receive regular care?”
“Several matriarchs from the village have donated their time to care for my mother whilst my sisters and I work. The Herbalist brings tinctures to reduce anxiety and depression.” Skylar released his grip on the chair seat as he thought of Lady Rain. Mother appeared the happiest after her visit in particular. “She eats soft foods and can swallow water and cider,” he continued. “Though she continues to lose weight.” He angled away and picked up a stone figurine on the edge of Jeff’s desk, similar to a chess pawn. His thumb caressed the smooth, cool surface.
“Caregiving for a dependent parent is a heavy burden to carry, especially when also raising children. I cannot imagine the stress you must be feeling at this moment. Do you find time to care for yourself?”
“My Lady, I wish to speak of other matters of import, if I may?”
She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow in that inquisitive way of hers. A sliver of light from the latticed window touched her raven tresses and violet hues glimmered in reply. Seemingly amused by his ungentlemanly staring, she asked in a light tone, “Why am I here, Skylar?”
“It concerns the Techsmith Guild.” He cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes to remain polite. His body stilled beneath his heavy thoughts, save his fingers, which continued to fidget with the figurine. “The community has expressed displeasure over technology education. Surprisingly, the first generation acts as though they know not of technology. At first I thought it a ruse, but...”
Dr. Nichols smiled and, in such a way, shivers raced across Skylar’s skin until goosebumps appeared. “How much do you know about psychological conditioning?” she asked.
“Very little, My Lady.”
“Are you familiar with mind control?”
“No,” Skylar said.
“The term ‘brainwashing,’ perhaps?”
Leaf scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward. “Are you suggesting that the first generation have somehow had memories washed away?”
“Not suggesting it,” she said. “From my own observations, most in New Eden no longer cling to their prior lives but adhere strictly to basic beliefs and values as a unified front, beliefs that are in strong conflict to their previous reality. The memories are still there, but they are hidden behind blind spots. Think of it as a veil, if you will.”
“The first generation remembered their loved ones from the Outside when Fillion demonstrated his technology,” Skylar said.
“Yes,” Dr. Nichols replied. “The blind spots move and can reveal snippets of memories with certain triggers. Though, it should be noted that a trigger or token will not produce the same result with each person or situation.”
“How is this possible?” Leaf asked.
The haunting smile returned. “In 1971, a renowned social psychologist by the name of Dr. Phillip Zimbardo led a breakthrough study known as the Stanford prison experiment. Groups of young men were asked to role-play as prisoners and guards. Those selected to participate in the experiment went through rigorous psychological screenings. Long story short, good, mentally healthy men were psychologically traumatized when the roles were played to realistic extremes. They had, in a sense, lost touch with their previous reality. After only six days, Dr. Zimbardo ended the experiment.”
“Six days,” Leaf whispered, more to himself. His face slackened as he repeated the words again.
“Surprising, I know. It was to Dr. Zimbardo as well,” Dr. Nichols said. “Twenty years is a long time to behave and believe a certain way.” She ironed out the wrinkles in her dress with her hands and frowned. The sudden change in her facade bothered Skylar and his pulse accelerated in response. “You were raised to believe a reality that only exists here and nowhere else,” she spoke, barely above a whisper. “To impart that reality with a morally clear conscience and to discourage ICE symptoms, the first generation had to believe this world as well.”
Skylar lifted his eyes to the wood-planked ceiling as his head fell against the back of the chair. Angry tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to give in to the strong feelings of betrayal. He knew the biodome was a social experiment. He knew they were not really on Mars. Still, to hear the intentionality of it all––the willingness of the first generation to shed not only their pasts but their children's futures in favor of a new reality––iced the roaring blood in his veins. Skylar grit his teeth and pushed out of the chair to pace by the window. Did his father use him for revenge, to punish Hanley? To end the experiment so as to regain an original reality he could no longer live without? Did the Techsmith Guild play any part in this decision?
When the initial surge of emotions passed, he cooled his countenance to stone and asked, “Then how is it, My Lady, that The Elements remembered their prior lives with clarity when others did not?”
“Each had connection to the lab in some form that anchored them to both worlds.” Dr. Nichols sought his eyes. “There are some from the village who recollect their prior lives, too.”
“Since I was enlisted into the Guild as a lad,” Skylar replied, “I was taught that people learn best from their own, a form of diffusion, it was called. The intent and purpose of the Techsmiths beyond providing simulation data for the lab was to aid the community in transitioning toward Outsider ways, namely technology, during Project Phase Two.”
“So I have been informed, though I am still wading through years of research and data to fully confirm that statement.”
Skylar rested his forearms on the back of his chair, fingers curled tight around the stone piece. “The community is vehemently opposed to the introduction of modern technology. Hanley is adamant that we educate the residents in drafted rotations. To disobey the Guild Master is insubordination and punishable with possible banishment. To disregard the community’s vote dishonors my vow to represent their needs as their Wind Element.” He shook his head with ill-humor. “I am not exactly the most popular man even without this test of honor, as you can imagine. The residents already fear me.”
Leaf took in a shaky breath. “Sky—”
“No, do not defend my reputation,” he ground out. “You and I both know it is true, which is why the Daughter of Fire was branded a witch instead of accusations being flung at me! And both you and Lady Ember allowed it.” Leaf dropped his head and studied his fingers as his shoulder’s fell. “My father burned the village and usurped your authority! He conspired to physically assault you, even unto death!”
The Son of Earth chanced a look at him and half whispered, “You are not to blame, Sky.”
“He is not here to pay for his crimes!” Skylar slammed the stone figurine onto the desk. “Why do you protect me, Leaf? Perhaps it is best they know he murdered your father so I no longer have to carry the shame and duplicity of my heritage in secret! It shall leak out one day, I am quite sure of it. And then what?”
“Think of your sisters and your mother,” Leaf said. He cast a nervous glance at Dr. Nichols, who had blanched. “I protect them as well as you.”
Skylar refused to cry, to give his father the satisfaction of more tears. “You are right.” He locked eyes with his King. “They deserve happiness for as long as we can falsify it. Forgive me, I have forgotten myself.”
“No, My Lord.” Leaf grabbed his forearm. “You have not.” The Son of Earth pulled him into an embrace and whispered in his ear, “If it is forgiveness you seek, then I forgive you.” Skylar sucked in a sharp breath and Leaf’s arms tightened around him. “But punishing yourself for your father’s sins shall not bring mine back, nor make yours a better man. You cannot redeem him. Stand upon your own merit, Son of Wind. Do not hide in fear and shame. Allow the community to see what an honorable, upstanding man you are.”
Skylar’s knees buckled as fury gusted through him. “And how do you advise I do such a thing, Your Majesty?” He pulled away and righted the fallen statue on Jeff’s desk. “Shall I create more scandal for my family and burden the community to care for them in my banishment?” he asked. “We have canceled classes, yes. But I now fear that even offering an education opportunity to those of the second generation who have come of age will still infuriate the majority of residents and incite unrest for technology does not align with New Eden’s core beliefs and values. We need to heal, not create more chaos.”
A muscle pulsed in Leaf’s jaw as he stood silent, eyes narrowed and limbs akimbo.
“How can we forget the visible problems with air quality as well? It is only a matter of time before fingers point to my office, accusing me of poisoning the biodome.” Blood rushed in Skylar’s ears as he held Leaf’s steady gaze. “I am not so certain the Techsmith Guild ever had genuine purpose beyond deceit and manipulation. I cannot trust anything my father designed and managed.”
“Do you believe modern technology is useful?” Dr. Nichols asked.
Both he and Leaf cut a sharp glance in her direction, having nearly forgotten her presence. She cupped knotted fingers around her bare knee and leaned forward in anticipation of his answer. The Son of Earth sank into his chair and twisted to face Skylar’s direction, chin tucked toward his chest and his hands clasped tight in his lap. Strangely, the unaffected, even tone of her voice re-centered Skylar, as did the topic redirection. He blinked back the toxic emotions, ones he closeted away with eagerness, and forced his face to become even more bland.
Skylar offered Leaf an apologetic frown then acknowledged Dr. Nichols. “Yes, technology has its uses,” he finally mumbled in reply.
“If you were to create a new mission statement for the Techsmith Guild, what would it be?”
He thought back over the years of simulation work and indoctrination. The problems they fixed were never real, but to test how they would respond if a real colony on Mars. Simple machines and software programs designed solely for their own education. The truth was, they mattered not. The Guardian Angels were the real engineers. Skylar slumped over to his chair and collapsed in a dispirited heap. Decorum and gentlemanly behavior required far too much energy this moment.
“I suppose,” he began, “it would depend on the mission statement of New Eden Township moving forward.”
“The answer will come to you and, with it, renewed purpose and vision.” Dr. Nichols rose, her mouth set in a thin line. “I have a video meeting soon and need to return to the lab.” She stepped toward Skylar and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “When grieving, it is normal to re-evaluate one’s life. Usually there is a period of anger followed by a bargaining phase. ‘If only’ I had known my father’s plan before he took it too far. ‘If only’ the Techsmith Guild had never formed. Right now, you have one foot in anger and the other in bargaining.”
She removed her hand with a trembling smile as tears gathered in her eyes. The break in character disarmed Skylar and his chest tightened.
“You will never be able to accept the selfishness or aggression, nor should you. But you will find a way to appropriate grace so that you can heal and move forward.” He was unsure if she spoke to him or to herself. Her eyes locked with his and he knew the intensity of pain she allowed him to see mirrored his own. “And I believe that is your desire, correct? To move forward? To begin afresh with restored honor to your family name?”
He grimaced with the enormity of heartache he contained. But, somehow, he had the presence of mind to nod his head in answer.
“Until then, give yourself permission to grieve and allow the community to grieve with you.”
She opened the door at the end of the small hallway and mid-day light spilled into the office. Violet shimmers threaded through her black hair as she peered over her shoulder, and the soft light brightened her eyes a shade to silver. Even Leaf quelled all movements at the sight of the otherworldly image in the doorway. Beyond her the world appeared white, though he could hear the familiar sounds of New Eden—the clank of Connor’s hammer, the cluck of whispers, and the stampede of small feet dashing toward the meadow. Her dark red lips curved in a commiserative smile before she spoke once more.
“Perhaps the fear you sense may be the community’s inability to know how to behave around your stoicism rather than your fear of being seen as no different from your father.” Dr. Nichols held his gaze a beat before bowing her head at Leaf. “A pleasure, as always.” She flicked her attention back to Skylar one last time and said, “When you have a renewed vision for the future of the Techsmith Guild, contact me and we will discuss details. Leave Hanley to me.”
The overly sweet scent of honey clung to the air in her wake and Skylar held his breath a few heartbeats until the perfume cleared. Leaf deflated next to him and stretched out his legs. They rolled their heads toward each other, expressions wary and relieved. Sobriety quickly gave way to laughter, however. Skylar could not help but join the lighter shift in the atmosphere.
“I think we may have bonded,” Leaf said with a lopsided grin. “If we were not brothers before, surely we are now.”
Skylar attempted a straight face, but laughter spurted from his compressed lips. He turned in his seat to better face his friend. “Do you believe she speaks true?”
“Yes, actually.” Leaf sobered and considered Skylar. “Especially concerning you, Sky.”
He released another heavy breath, long and slow, and extended a hand toward Leaf. “I am most sorry. For shouting at you today with Dr. Nichols as witness, and for all the shame I have brought your household.”
Leaf shook his hand. His friend’s sideways smile appeared once more. “You have not shamed my household.”
“Lady Ember—”
“Is not shamed by you.” Leaf diverted his focus to the floor. “If anyone is cause for shaming her reputation, it is I. We eloped, which has provided more than enough speculation for the town gossips, especially now...” Leaf blinked several times and rolled his head toward the window. “She is a strong woman, worry not.”
“I ... I have given her a life debt.”
Leaf looked at him again. “I know, I heard everything on the observation deck.”
“This does not bother you?”
“Should I be bothered?” Leaf cast him another sidelong glance. “Is there affection between you and my wife beyond friendship?”
“No,” Skylar shook his head adamantly. “Nor was there ever. I did not hold romantic affections for Lady Ember.” He had never shared fully with anyone, not even Lady Ember, though she knew snippets of details. His throat tightened. Leaf deserved an explanation and Skylar’s anxieties reignited. “My father,” Skylar began, “would punish me.” He looked away. “If I disappointed him, even over simple matters. If I did not share conversations overheard in homes I visited. If my sisters or mother embarrassed him publicly. If I did not become the next Aether.”
“He would physically harm you?” Aghast, Leaf’s face slackened, eyes wide and mouth agape.
“The villagers laughed at his jokes and lis
tened with rapt attention to his many stories. Mother is patient and kind and well respected by adults and children alike. Who would believe me?” Skylar clenched his jaw. “I excused the bruises during bathing sessions as work-related injuries, nothing more.”
Leaf twisted in the chair to face Skylar, his face drained of color, even his lips. It made the nearly faded black eye Leaf sported appear gruesome. “Did he touch your sisters and mother?”
“No, I ensured he took his violence out on me alone. Though I could not save them from his biting words.” He squeezed his eyes shut and forced back the roiling emotions, especially the ones souring his stomach. “The only woman he had threatened to physically harm was Lady Ember. He was convinced she was the next in line to become The Aether. If ... if I refused to court her and eventually marry her, then he swore he would put her life in danger and in such a way that New Eden would blame me for her death. It was a madness he possessed.” He looked up at Leaf. “What choice did I have? Who would believe me? What proof could I provide beyond my word? I would be branded as mentally unstable and a disgrace, for what son dishonors his father? Not a single man or woman from the second generation has accused their parent publicly and especially over something as grievous as conspiring to murder.” Skylar fidgeted with the hem of his tunic and murmured, “I am the first, though I am ashamed I waited so long to do so. Perhaps ... Perhaps...”
“You are not to blame, Skylar Kane. I shall continue to repeat these very words until you believe me.” Leaf shook his head. “All these years as friends and I never once suspected or thought to question the persistent bruises. You have always been methodical and careful, in all that you accomplish.”
Transitions: Novella Collection (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2.5) Page 8
