A History of What Comes Next

by Sylvain Neuvel

  …

  I wouldn’t want my daughter to think of what she’s lost. Leaving her life behind time and time again. Never saying goodbye. Waking in a strange place, not knowing her name or what language she speaks. I wouldn’t want her to relive it. A woman she loved and will never see again. Words never spoken. Kisses never kissed. The utter vastness of an empty bed. No. I wouldn’t want her to go through that. An empty womb. Breasts aching, gorged to feed a life that isn’t. A promise broken before it was ever made. I wouldn’t want my daughter to relive that loss. I wouldn’t want her to imagine losing me, because I know what it would do to her. I wouldn’t want her to be stubborn, to draw the line and say: “Fuck no. I’m not losing any more.”

  I wouldn’t want her to turn around and head back the way she came—that would be foolish—to take one step, then another. Faster. Her feet beating the ground like a war drum, waking the animal inside her.

  It starts with a tingling, hair standing on end. Heightened senses. Everything becomes clearer, crisper.

  I wouldn’t want her to welcome the beast. To let herself become what she fears the most. I wouldn’t do that to her. I’d be afraid she’d lose herself for good. I’d be afraid she’d like it.

  I sure as hell wouldn’t want her rummaging through the shed looking for a weapon. She wouldn’t do that. I know she wouldn’t be stupid enough to think a tiki torch was a good idea.

  No. I’d tell my daughter to run and to keep running, just like Mother would tell me. Think of all that came before you. Three thousand years of sacrifice on the line. Ninety-nine lives spent making sure you survive. Don’t blow it. When I die, you will be the last of us.

  Well, fuck all that. I don’t have a daughter and Mother’s not dead yet.

  Last chance to turn around. My heart wants to burst out of my chest.

  The back door’s still open. Slowly. Don’t make a sound. They’re in the kitchen. I can see him, one of him. The other must be looking for me.

  Mother. What the fuck did he do to her? Her face is all swelled up. She’s bleeding all over herself.

  Slowly.

  I feel the warmth taking hold. I feel the monster waking.

  Slowly.

  Her eyes are swelled shut but she can see me. He doesn’t know what she’s looking at as I raise the spike high above his head.

  —Why are you smiling? Did you hear what I just said? I’m going to slice you up like a ham. What the hell are you smiling at, you crazy witch?

  Let the animal loose, Mia. Let her rage.

  59

  At Last

  —You should not have come back, Mia. I am grateful for what you did but it—

  —You’re welcome, Mother. Can we do this another time? He was right on our tail a second ago.

  I saw him, too. Ford Fairlane, Corinthian white. The Tracker stayed three cars behind the whole way, but I am certain he knows we spotted him.

  —Are you sure it is a good idea to stop here? We could keep driving.

  —We’ll be safe down here. There are soldiers everywhere. Now will you please get inside the elevator?

  —How deep are we going?

  Part of me is glad we stopped moving. I am still dizzy and I can barely see. I have never been to a missile silo before. Vandenberg is a development launch site, but this is what they will all look like. Three nuclear-capable ICBMs buried underground. On the surface, all we can see are the two-hundred-ton circular doors. Beneath them lies a small maze of tunnels linking the silos to the control room and whatever else is down there.

  —It’s not that deep, about a hundred and fifty feet.

  We have been here for less than a minute and I am claustrophobic already. Good, the control room is just across from the elevator. It is roomier than I thought. I imagined something like a submarine: narrow corridors, low ceilings. There are filing cabinets everywhere, I wonder what they keep in—Oh wait. They are part of the computer.

  —This is the machine you were talking about?

  —Yes. That’s the ATHENA computer. Now you unders—

  —What kind of unholy abomination is making that noise?

  —They’re testing the Titan I. That’s why we came here. I knew there’d be soldiers around. What you’re hearing is the elevator raising the missile above ground.

  —That sound!

  —It can lift half a million pounds, but it has its kinks. It won’t move sometimes. Still makes that noise, though. They’ll raise the missile to the surface to load the liquid oxygen. I’m supposed to make sure the guidance computer and the rocket are talking to each other. They’ll do a pretend countdown and abort just before sending the signal to ignite.

  —Then what?

  —They bring the missile down again, remove the liquid oxygen, and everyone goes home.

  I do not like it here. There is only one exit. Nowhere to hide.

  —What about us? He will be waiting for us.

  —I’ll ask for a military escort. We’ll figure out where to go.… Do you think it’s true, what the Tracker was saying?

  —Which part?

  —That we came together, that our world was dying. Did you believe him?

  —I am fairly certain he believed it. Whether you and I do does not seem particularly relevant.

  —What if it’s true? The necklace I’m wearing, did you know it’s not from Earth?

  —I suspected.

  —What if we let our people die by hiding that thing?

  —Let us assume for a moment that the device he mentioned does exist. Would you use it if you could? Would you bring billions like him to this world? Besides, I am not hiding anything and neither are—

  —What?

  —Did you hear that, Mia? It sounded like gunshots.

  —Maybe the army will kill him for us.

  —How far is the silo from the control room?

  —It’s … at the end of that tunnel on the left.

  —Take us there, Mia! We are not waiting for him here.

  —He might be dead already.

  —He might not be. Go.

  —Fine. This way.

  There is no one inside the tunnel. There were plenty of soldiers outside, but I have only seen a handful since we went underground.

  —Is it always this empty?

  —I don’t know, I’ve only been here twice. But these things are designed for a skeleton crew.

  —How much farther?

  —What did you say?

  The noise is getting louder and louder. It sounds like a thousand baby goats are being burned alive.

  —I SAID HOW MUCH FARTHER?

  I see a door ahead of us. It is much closer than I thought, fifteen hundred feet from where we were at most. If we were above ground, the control room would be miles from the launchpad.

  —In here.

  This is impressive. Our ceiling is rising along this giant metal structure, no doubt bringing the missile to the surface. It must be near the top now. There. It stopped. I do not know if it is fear or the beating I just took but that noise was driving me mad.

  —This is better.

  —That platform is holding two hundred thousand pounds of rocket fuel above our heads, Mother. I don’t mind the noise as long as it doesn’t drop it.

  A fair point, though I’m certain it would not take a feat of engineering to quiet this monster down a bit.… And now we wait. With any luck, the guards will t—

  [Hello? Anyone?]

  There is someone here. I did not hear him coming. It could be a soldier, or an engi—

  —Mother, it’s him.

  This one might be a couple of years younger, but he looks the same. Same height. Same cold eyes. Same response. Adrenaline is binding to my heart and arteries. My heartbeat is speeding up; so is my breathing. He is blocking the only doorway out of here, and I do not have a weapon. His is a baton. He must have grabbed it from one of the guards. We will not last five seconds without something to fight with.

  [Oh, here you are! I’m so glad to
see you both here. So which one of you ladies killed my brother?]

  I see an ax next to the fire extinguisher, but it is too slow a weapon. Mia is digging through a toolbox. She grabbed herself a hammer. That is anger talking, not fear. I will take a screwdriver if there is nothing else. Box cutters. Perfect. I prefer short blades.

  —Let me take care of this, Mia.

  [Take care of this? I just want to know who left a tiki torch inside my brother’s skull. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.]

  —That would be me.

  —Don’t talk to him, Mia. I will keep him occupied. You run.

  My hand is killing me but I can still hold a knife. I do not need to kill him. I only need him out of the way. If Mia makes it to the exit, there should be armed soldiers above us.

  —Like hell I am, Mother. I’m not leaving you here. We’ll take him together.

  [You’re not holding a grudge because I kicked you off that launchpad, are you? Fine. I don’t feel like talking either. Let’s dance.]

  —Mia, stand back!

  He is swinging his baton. Close the distance. Don’t parry. A baton is mechanical leverage. Basic physics. Amplification of the input force is proportional to the distance over which it is applied. Take the hit close to the grip. Slice his forearm.

  He is transferring his weight. Walk back and slice again. There is a lot of blood but I am not cutting deep enough. I need to hit muscle and tendon if I am to weaken his arms. Baton again. Walk forward and slice. I cut him deep this time. His right elbow is moving back. He will swing again. He is strong, but predictable. He will not last long if we continue this routine. Baton from above. Walk forward. Slice his fore—Aaaagh. He grabbed me by the hair.

  Headbu—

  …

  …

  …

  Where am I? I am on the floor, dizzy. I must not have been out long. Mia is running towards him. He raised his baton but she slid on one leg and swung her hammer into his knee.

  —I’ll kill you for what you did!

  His leg buckled. She’s behind him now. Crack his head open, Mia! He is walking backwards. He will slam her against the wall.

  [What I did? You just killed my brother, you stupid bitch!]

  They are facing each other again. GET YOUR HANDS UP!

  Mia took a blow to the temple. She is barely conscious.

  [Is that all you got? How about I rip your ear off so you and your mom match? Then you can be mad.]

  He knocked both of us out in under a minute. Time to face facts.

  I need him to come to me before he kills her.

  —LEAVE HER ALONE!

  [Hey! You’re back!]

  You should have killed me when you had the chance.

  [If you insist.]

  The Tracker is limping towards me. Come at me. Keep coming.

  I don’t need the knives anymore.…

  Only now, in the end, do I understand.

  It is not our path that brought us here but my straying from it. I let selfishness and doubt distract me. I wanted what other people have and I forgot the treasure we possess. I forgot my purpose.

  Hsue-Shen was right. We cannot change what we are. I tried, and the Tracker knocked at our door. I broke the rules, and my daughter paid the price. I pretended to be something I’m not, and Mia lost her child.

  Now I get to set things straight. Survive at all costs.

  I got the ax off the wall. It is heavy. I can see the Tracker in the corner of my eye, but I am not looking at him. I am staring at the platform hydraulics.

  —MOTHER, NO!

  Good. Mia knows what I am doing. I wish there were another way but there is not.

  —…

  —NOOOOO! PLEASE, MOTHER, STOP!

  One swing of the ax. She will need to run fast. The closest blast door is a quarter mile away. Run, Mia. Always run.

  The Tracker stopped dead in his tracks. He does not know what just happened. He sees the cable dancing, spitting oil like an angry snake. He does not understand. He just now realized Mia is gone. He can hear the pump struggling. The platform above us just dropped three feet on one side.

  Now, he knows.

  [What have you done?]

  That is a good question. I have lived. I have learned. I have made mistakes. I doubted. I did what I could to honor the ones that came before me. I brought a life into this world. I tried to help. Now I die, but, as my friend said, at least I will die knowing who I am.

  —I hope I have done enough. Now burn, you fucking piece of shit.

  The platform is coming down hard. We will be dead before the fuel tanks rupture and blow this place to hell. There is so much I have not done, but I have no regrets, for this is not the end. Ninety-nine of us are gone, but we were born a hundred times.

  My name is Sarah Freed, and we are the Kibsu.

  CONCLUSION

  60

  Stand by Me

  1961

  A handful of fine clouds linger over the ocean, thin and wispy, while the sun dips its toes and sets the sea on fire. I look forward to our time on Mallorca. It will be … It will be just that, our time. Me and her and nothing else. No rockets, no computers. I came here to give birth—the Tracker will never find us here. A new life is coming. It’s exciting, and scary. We’ll make it work. I have it all planned. The three “B”s, I call it. Books, beach, breastfeeding, probably not in that order. I have some time to figure it out. She won’t be born for another five months.

  I was pregnant a week after Mother died. I was in shock when I came out of that base. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t think. All I had left were the rules.

  Preserve the knowledge.

  I ran home, threw our journals in the trunk of the car, and drove east.

  Survive at all costs.

  I found a shitty bar next to a truck stop and dragged the first man I saw into the bathroom. I don’t remember what he looked like. Ugly, I think.

  Don’t leave a trace.

  I torched the car, found a truck on its way to Miami, and hopped on the first boat heading for Europe.

  I’m not sure when I cried for the first time. I know it took a while. I still … I haven’t quite come to terms with Mother’s death. It doesn’t feel like she’s gone. In some ways she’s not. She’s inside me. She’s … happy. Happy that I’m alive, that we’re alive. It’s for her that I—that we’re here tonight. I found this secluded cove a few days ago. It’s just us, all one hundred of us, looking at the sky.

  —Look up, Lola! I know you can’t see, but there is a man up there. His name is Yuri. He doesn’t know that we’re looking at him but I bet you he’s looking at us. Not you and me, he’s looking at the planet. He’s seeing more of it than anyone in history. He can see whole continents. He can see Earth’s curvature. Did I tell you we live on a giant ball? We do! And right now, this very minute, there is a tiny tiny spaceship spinning around it with Yuri inside it.

  I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he know how many lives were spent getting him up there? Can he grasp the sheer amount of work that went into it? I bet you he couldn’t care less at the moment. Good for him. He’s the first man in space, it would be a crime if he weren’t having the time of his life. He left from Baikonur, on my rocket. Well, Korolev had something to do with it as well, he and a million others, but there’s a bit of me in that rocket. Lots of memories. Not many regrets.

  Oh! She’s moving.

  —You like that, don’t you? Someday you’ll build ships like this one. You’ll send people even farther. Don’t worry, not today. There’s a lot I need to teach you first.

  We’ll stay here for a couple of years, then we’ll find somewhere I can work. There’s lots to do. Mother said it: getting to orbit is only the first step. We need to go farther, much farther. We’ll start with the moon, then, another planet. Then … Then Lola can figure it out.

  Lola … I had absolutely no idea what to name her. My one friend here—I made a friend—told me not to worry about it. She said
: “Wait until she’s born. You’ll know when you see her.” I laughed. I know exactly what my daughter will look like. I would have named her Sarah, but that’ll be weird and creepy when she grows up. Billie, well … There’s only one Billie. I took out a piece of paper to make a list, but I couldn’t come up with a single name I liked. Finally, I wrote down a big “101” and pinned the sheet on the kitchen wall. One morning, I was making eggs and I saw it. I added the “a.” 101a. I think it fits. I can see myself as a Lola.

  I wonder what she’ll think of me. Will she look at her mother the way I looked at mine? Will she see a pillar of strength or the insecure child I still see in the mirror? Now that I’m in her shoes, I often ask myself whether my mother was as sure of herself as I made her out to be, or if we were more alike than I thought all along.

  I don’t know where we’ll go. I don’t want to return to the United States, not now. When Lola’s older, maybe. If she wants to work on rockets, we’ll have to go where the rockets are. Unfortunately, that’s also where the computers are. We’ll see. Fortunately, I can continue Mother’s research anywhere. I will finish what she started. I think I owe her that much.

  There’s something else I want to do. I want to find out who we are. I want to know if the Tracker was telling the truth. I want to know where we come from, what our world is like. Mother said that we lost the knowledge a long time ago, but I think it’s out there somewhere, waiting to be found.

  I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but I’m eager to find out. For the first time in my life, I know exactly who I am. I am a mother, a daughter. I am all of those that came before me and all that will follow. I feel … very much alive.

  —Can you feel it, Lola? We’re alive!

  We are alive. We are the One Hundred.

  FURTHER READING

  (Not as boring as it sounds, I swear.)

  The story’s over (for now). I learned a ton writing this book. I knew little of the space race when I began, nothing of rocket science. Writing in the past was the biggest challenge. Basically, nothing exists and women can’t do anything. When were women allowed to open a bank account on their own? Was there duct tape in 1945? Was “alpha dog” a thing back then? That said, I love research, and digging into history was a lot of fun. I thought I would share some interesting bits about the people and events that make up this book and throw in some reading suggestions if you want to know more, or if you’re looking to pass time while waiting for the next book.