Aquifer

by Jonathan Friesen

  I stare at my eagle eye, and my dial stares back. Each of us faces one tuned to our individual frequency, the one given to us at birth. My arrow hangs and quivers. This is not good. A quiver is acceptable; a swing is dangerous.

  Here again, I am Other. I was not given a frequency implant. These mistakes do not happen, and surely my attending Birther was undone for the error. But I am now too old for my heart to accept the personalized signal implant, and I stare at my unsynced dial, a first-generation model able only to note changes in body temperature. Such instruments are much more prone to error.

  Behind me, in the center of the circle, Teacher Two drones on. I miss Teacher One. He had become too passionate in his defense of the New Sydney uprising and was replaced. Rumor has it he now works an outpost oil field. Let his passion burn to pump oil, or something like that.

  Teacher One had sounded like Father did yesterday.

  Father. My hands sweat. The dial jumps, spins, and quivers again. Calm, Luca. Calm.

  Behind me, the door creaks, and boots strike the floor slow and heavy. I stare at my screen, and a man in a crisp, red uniform steps between my eagle and me.

  “Luca. We need to talk.”

  I stare at the bulge in his shirt pocket. A dial. An Amongus.

  “My dial isn’t synced. I don’t know what emotion it registered. We were in the welcome. There’s little passion in that.”

  The Amongus turns, his dreadlocks swishing down across his back. He approaches my dial, and I start to recite in my mind.

  Left, slight jog right …

  The monitor falls quiet.

  “Would you please replace my dial?” I ask. “I’m getting tired of these faulty readings.”

  He removes the monitor, turns it over in his hand, and glances at the teacher. “Keep your welcome calm. You may continue.”

  When the door shuts, I smile. More than once my Birther’s error has saved me. I can’t understand my agemates. I’ve schooled with them for ten years, and never once has any dial twitched but mine.

  Today’s lessons, as they always do on the day of descent, focus on history, the History of the Exchange. The class hears the annual retelling of Rabal and the gold mine.

  It was he who first discovered it, the bed of fresh water rock deep below the ocean floor. The thirsty world had no choice but to give to him allegiance, and all countries became one.

  “But how fortunate to swear fealty to such a wise man, the first PM. Soon the once-necessary evils of this world were gone, and surrounded by the Council of Nine, Rabal and his wise sons established the security we now take for granted.”

  Blah. Blah.

  “Such fortune was not had below …”

  The tone of the story darkens, and my stomach flips.

  “The nine miners who had worked alongside Rabal made a fateful choice: to stay below, to live near the mantle of the earth. While they took on the important task of providing life-giving water to the people above, I don’t suppose they realized they would devolve. From human in form to little more than rats, crawling on all fours in the darkness. And there they would breed, and multiply. It’s to them that Massa will descend today to make the trade on which our lives depend.”

  Lendi glances my way with eyebrows raised. He knows the task will one day fall to me.

  Teacher Two pauses. “Please stand for your recreative minutes.”

  “Happy Birth Hour,” whispers Lendi, leaning over.

  “I forgot.”

  “You always forget. The curse of a seventh of the seventh birth hour. I consider it my job to remind you.”

  At quarter of noon, I will turn sixteen, and be escorted up the stairs to the next room for the last months of my formal schooling. I’ll miss Lendi. He’s already a Sixteen, but was detained. Hopefully, he’ll join me soon.

  “How does your father look?” Lendi asks.

  “He’s strong,” I lie.

  Lendi exhales slowly. He is an anxious sort, always concerned about Father’s wellbeing. I suppose it makes sense. His life depends on the man.

  “Back to your positions.” Teacher Two points to the clock. 11:45.

  “Class, Luca will be moving up today. Wish Luca well.”

  Nobody speaks. They can’t. Their parents have given them orders, and on this day alone, Teacher accepts their disobedience.

  “On behalf of the entire class, I wish you well.”

  I nod and stare at my eagle.

  “Save me a good seat.” Lendi speaks, and I hear the smile in his voice. I shift in time to see the wiggle on his dial. The door opens and the Amongus returns. He whispers to Lendi, who rises.

  “And while I’m here,” says the Amongus, “I will escort Luca to the Sixteens.”

  I rise and join Lendi. He’ll only be chastised, but that’s still quite a sacrifice for a mate.

  The three of us exit the door and circle higher.

  “You shouldn’t have said anything,” I say.

  “You do.”

  “My position is somewhat more protected than yours.”

  The Amongus opens the door to the circle of Sixteens. Nobody but the teacher turns to look.

  “I have a new student for you.” The Amongus pushes me through the doorway, and then grabs my shirt. I glance over my shoulder. “Wish Massa good luck.” He smirks.

  Amongus never smirk.

  I whip around. “What do you know about last night?”

  The door slams, and from behind me the teacher speaks gently. “Your presence, though honoring, cannot be accompanied by these outbursts.”

  “It won’t.”

  The room clock clicks twelve and all rise. “When we return from Holiday, we will be visiting the Hall of the Old. Prepare to be disturbed. Good day.” The teacher strides out into the hall. My peers rise and part and exit, each one cupping their hands as they walk by. It’s the universal gesture given to my father, who fills each hand with water, with life. Now as a Sixteen, it is given to me.

  I stand alone in the empty room. It’s time to go home. I’m afraid of the man I will see.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Father Massa, I’m home! What do you need me to do?” I bang through the screen door, and slow. Father’s hammock sways gently in the main room. There is no breeze.

  I feel cold, though the day is warm.

  Of course. Today he will recite the path of descent in the sitting area, repeating it backward and forward. He says the route must be known both ways, for there is always the return journey to the surface.

  I pull the sheet that shields Father’s sitting chair from the rest of the shanty.

  He slowly lifts his head.

  “Father Massa, I was worried.” I glance around. “Is everything well? Have you checked the boat —”

  He raises his finger to his lips and stands. His eyes are fiery and clear, and I warm in that terrible, wonderful gaze.

  “Come, son.” He tousles my hair and takes hold of both shoulders. “Let me look at you. There is so much of your mother in your face. The child of hope, that’s what she called you, and you turned out well.”

  “Uh, thank you, Father Massa.” Words falter. He is changed. “What happened to you? Where’s Wal —” Father slaps his hand over my mouth.

  “What happened to me? Well, the brain is not meant to be tinkered with. As we’ve known for far too long, debriefings can steal memories, but” — he smiles broadly — “occasionally after too much tinkering, those memories find their way home.” He sighs. “There’s so much I need to tell you, but not now.” I feel the strength in his arms, the certainty in his voice. It is Father, but not one I’ve known. He slowly releases me.

  I rub my mouth. “You’re so —”

  “Late. Massa is late to depart.”

  I swing around. The sheet rips from its clasp and an Amongus approaches, while two more block the doorway.

  “Ignore them, Luca. I’m not late,” Father says, his voice soft and tender. “I can’t stop looking at you. How l
ong have I been gone?”

  “Get up, Massa,” the Amongus hisses.

  “My mind, how long has it been absent?”

  “Years,” I whisper, and peek toward the door. And in the corner of my eye, there is a tickle I can’t explain.

  “Up, Man!”

  The Watchers push my small frame aside, and I land with a thud. They stride toward Father.

  He stands and points at each of them in turn. “Leave my home. You will not touch my son again.”

  They stare at each other, and Father steps forward. “Out. Get out.” He bends and gently lifts me to my feet. “I wish to speak with Luca.”

  Father shoves the lead Amongus, who raises his fist.

  “Hold it, Mape.” His companion leaps from the door and grabs Mape’s arm. “Only he knows. He can’t be hurt. Not today.”

  Mape slowly lowers his hand. “Not today.” He turns, and along with the others steps out of the shanty.

  Father kneels. I kneel as well. “Luca, I have a job to do, and then we will talk. In the meantime, you have taken on quite a task. Your bravery yesterday means you must now care for the package you rescued. You will need to find a place for it.”

  “Not here?”

  Father slowly shakes his head. “Here is safe and good, but only for you, son.”

  Inside, I warm. He said Walery couldn’t stay, but I warm. Because I can. I matter. I’m his son.

  Father looks at me, deep and full. The stare reaches places the dials never find. Does he see my fear? My sadness, and the emotions that have no names?

  He rises and hoists his backpack over his shoulders. A beam pierces from inside the pack. Even though the light rods are in their inactive state, there is no way to fully contain the glow. “How was school today?”

  “It was … uh, fine. I moved into the Sixteens.”

  “Sixteen! Three more months of school, and you are done. Finally a young man. No more a boy.”

  “Ow!” Lendi stumbles into the shanty and crashes into Father, who doesn’t flinch.

  “Why is this boy prowling about?” Mape follows him through doorway.

  Father raises his eyebrows. “A good question.”

  I step forward. “When you’re gone, he sometimes comes over to keep me company.”

  Lendi turns a slow circle. “I swear that’s all. I didn’t know there were any Among — I mean Watchers here.”

  “Seems I should leave so you can enjoy each other’s company.” Father kisses my forehead. I turn toward Mape. From his pocket, I hear the whirring of his dial. “I’ll see you early in the morning, my son, after the celebration begins.”

  Dad leaves, and Lendi and I walk to the door. Outside, Father is escorted to the end of the dock, where he climbs into his boat.

  “There’s far too much water in this vessel for one man.” The gentle swells carry Mape’s words to the shanty.

  Father pays him little mind, and unties the rope. “You’ve never descended. You don’t know what’s needed.”

  “Hmm. Go now,” Mape says. “The world waits.”

  “Not until you leave my gates. I would not abandon Luca and Lendi to you.”

  “He’s right. They’ll come back,” Lendi whispers. “They’ll go and come right back and we’ll be debriefed and I won’t remember my parents and —”

  “Shh!”

  The Amongus back away from the dock. Father starts the engine and calls, “Your dials. Toss them to me.”

  The dials. During the New Sydney uprising, several Amongus had been attacked, their dials removed, and with them, their authority. They had quickly been undone. An Amongus without a dial was nothing, and even unfeeling citizens found relief in their embarrassment.

  Mape shakes his head.

  “Fine.” Father reclines in the boat. “You came to see me off. Let’s wait until others come, and you can explain to the waiting world why I’m still at the dock.”

  “We have to do it, Mape,” his companion says. “There is no option.”

  Mape reaches into his vest pocket and removes the dial. “You feel you have control. Because of your position, I will do this. But …” He glances toward us. “A penalty will be paid.”

  “No, it won’t.” Father reaches out his hands and catches three dials. “Accursed things. You’ll get them back when I return. Now it’s your time to go. You’re late.”

  The Amongus quickly disappear. Father waves to us. “Luca, the path in your mind — give it to no one else. If you are asked, you’ll know what to do.” He speeds out toward the reef. “Oh!” he yells back. “Please clean my closet.”

  “He took their dials.” Lendi backhands my chest. “Luca, did you see that? How can he do that?”

  I breathe deep. I don’t know the answer. But I’ve never been so proud.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Clean the closet?

  I run to the back of the house and throw open the door. Walery steps out, wide-eyed. “Are they gone?”

  “Luca?” Lendi calls. “Where are you?”

  My mind races, and I shove Walery back inside, slamming the door. “In Father’s area, Lendi. Come on in.” He appears, and I lean back against the closet. “So, where do your parents think you are this time?”

  “Caesar’s, as always. His place in Scarboro makes for a long trek, and the idea of staying overnight makes sense to my parents.” Lendi grabs my arm — another rare physical touch. “I need to show you something.”

  I wait, and my friend chews his lip. Fortunately for him, the Amongus don’t patrol New Pert when Father drops below the surface; his anxiety will go unnoticed. Even the Watcher’s lives are on the line.

  I peek at Lendi’s fingers tightening around my forearm.

  “We can’t talk here, but I found something. You’ll want to see it, Luca. This is the only day we could go unnoticed.”

  “Where —”

  “No questions, all right? Just follow. I’m already a walking wrinkle, and thinking about it only makes it worse.”

  It’s a day for secrets, and my body tingles. Lendi’s mouth is a risk, but that increases my urge to confide about the boy in my closet. “I’ve got something to show you too.”

  Lendi puffs out air. “You know I blab. You know … Oh, fine, what is it?” I step away from the door, and Lendi slowly pulls it open.

  “Why is Walery in your father’s closet?”

  “It’s somewhat of a story.”

  Lendi lowers his voice. “Wait. I saw him in the march. Wasn’t he undone?”

  “Does he look it?”

  Lendi peeks. “No. But he’s supposed to be undone, isn’t he?”

  I say nothing.

  “He came through your gate, and somehow you hid him.”

  More silence.

  “And nobody knows about it but you, and now me. Blime! I can’t keep this kind of confidence. You know that.” Lendi drops to the floor and squeezes his dreadlocks.

  I sit beside him. “It’s okay, mate. Now, what was your news?”

  “My news?” His breathing quickens. “Yeah, my news! Maybe my news will help me forget your news.”

  I gesture to Walery, and he steps out while flattening his shirt. “You’re not going to slam me back inside again …”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” I grab a fish from the cold box and drop it into Walery’s hands. “The place is yours tonight.” I offer him a quick slap on the back. “Lendi and I are going on a little trip.”

  Walery presses his toe into the wooden floor. “I could … I could come with you. It’s, uh, really dark here, and really …”

  Lonely. The word you’re looking for is lonely. You haven’t been allowed to talk of it, but there it is. I know it well.

  “I think it’s far too soon for you to be outside this house. Even Lendi knew about your scheduled undoing.” I wince. “Sorry, Lendi. Anyway, I need to find a place where you can stay. Forever. Perhaps the Northern Territories. A different district. Father knows people. Stay here until he gets b
ack, okay?”

  Walery raises his palms and lets them flop back down. “Yeah, you’re right. This is just a strange place.” He glances around. “So quiet. So full of something.”

  It’s called emotion. That takes some getting used to as well.

  I touch Lendi on the shoulder, and then together we push out the door and into the heat of afternoon. The streets of New Pert are nearly deserted. We wander along the Swan River and toward its lagoon, around which citizens’ homes huddle. Dotted among the dwellings, remnants of massive buildings stand in decay. The Swan is the heart of New Pert, both a magnet for those who remain and an image of what’s been undone.

  Millions used to fill the city, but no longer. Thirst has seen to that.

  Today, the shoreline is deserted — no bikes, no scooters. Not on the eve of Water Day.

  Lendi leads me across the river and then veers toward Freemanl Wharf, close to the sea, where only a few tardy fishermen are frantic at work tying down their boats and hauling in their catch. In another hour, even the most secret alleys of the wharf will be uninhabited.

  Only the water mission will remain open. All day, every day, it collects extra from donors and gives water to the destitute for free. Father sends me daily to contribute.

  Lendi’s face is tense and his gait quick; odd for my friend. There are no jokes. There are no words.

  There have always been words between us.

  Lendi first approached me when we were Sixes. He grabbed my swing at the play yard and twisted it, and I swirled and fell on my back while he laughed. His reprimand had been severe, but I felt an immediate kinship with the wild, jittery boy.

  “You know, Lendi, Tamari’s home rests near the wharf.”

  At the sound of her name, his legs slow, and he flashes me his most-controlled look. “Yes. Why do you mention —”

  “Because you never do.” I raise my palms. “You just stare and stare. She could be your match. You could ask your father to make the request.”

  Lendi freezes. “And just when have you ever heard of any request being granted? No, I have a better chance saying nothing.”

  I glance down. “She’s pretty.” I sweep my hand before my eyes. “I can see it now. The Joiners are pleased to announce the selection of Lendi, son of Beldi the Tanner, and Tamari, daughter of Jokthan the … What does her father do?”