The harsh reality of UTOPIA’s cost has resulted in sects of generational cults and dogmas, each bent on achieving entrance into UTOPIA. Due to rising crime rates in earlier centuries before UTOPIA, the UCA implemented the M82, and later Milky Way-wide PLANT system.
Mick focused on PLANT, fighting his heavy lids to consume more knowledge:
PLANT: a UCA-created crime regulation device present in all galaxy citizens through genetic nanotherapy. Children born of PLANTED parents automatically inherit their PLANT. The last known non-PLANTED citizen died in 3912. Some speculate that some of the corporate elite never received PLANTS, and can still create children that are PLANT-free, which has led to speculation of organized crime (This sentence has been flagged as insubstantial and opinionated, and should be researched further). By way of entangled particles within the quantum implant, the UCA is alerted instantaneously of changes in brain and body rhythm indicative of moral lapses ranging from petty crimes through to precognition of murder.
I’m the perfect criminal in a far away world, and all I want is innocence.
Mick retreated into bed. He closed his eyes and fell into black.
Tonight there is the real possibility that I’ll see you in my dreams.
Come back.
33
“Daddy, do you think the rain will stop in time for tomorrow?” a little girl asked.
“I don’t know honey. I hope so,” he replied, sliding close on the couch and squeezing her. “We can go in the rain though, that is, if you think you’re tough enough.”
“Of course I’m tough enough! I’ve been wanting to ride a boat in a real lake since I was three years old!”
A fire crackled from the corner of the log cabin. The wall in front of them displayed the rolling credits of a movie. The melody of a happy-ending played.
“I know honey. I’ve been hearing about it for four years, more than half your life,” He smiled. Orange flame reflected on his cheeks. They were warm, a family, and safe. He cherished the moment as if it were eternity.
A boy, slightly older than the girl, walked into the room holding a large bowl of popcorn and three glasses filled with juice.
“These old-time cooking things—micro-ovens?—are really neat,” he said.
“Careful Teddy,” the man said, watching the boy wobble into the flickering living room.
“I’m okay—” at that moment, the boy’s toes dug beneath an end table and he tripped. The bowl of popcorn exploded into the air, white fireworks, followed by three juice-filled glass rockets. Kernels scattered on the brown rug, the juice landing in the bowl and making popcorn cereal. Teddy stretched out his hands to support his fall, one of them landing squarely upon the length of a cylinder of glass; with a pop, it shattered.
“Damn it Teddy!” his father reacted, then he rose in fear: “Oh my god, are you alright?”
Teddy looked stupefied, and finally turned to look at his dad and sister: “Yea, I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
“Teddy you’re bleeding!” the girl screamed.
“What?” He looked down at his wrist. A gash, open to muscle, ran in a line; he hadn’t noticed any pain. Gazing upon the muted wound, he slipped into shock—blood gushed onto the brown floor, the white popcorn—he couldn’t speak.
“Hold it up,” his father said quickly, ripping his shirt off. “It’s nothing, I’ve had much worse—high—hold it straight up son.” The man grabbed the boy’s arm and coiled his shirt tightly around the cut. “Come into the bathroom.”
“Is he going to be okay daddy?” the girl whined, forgetting her excitement about the movie marathon they’d embarked upon, the boating trip planned for the next day, and the last two days of their vacation on Cedar Minor; it had been the first time the family had felt whole since the loss of mom.
“He’s going to be fine. Stay there Sera, don’t come in here,” the father called back.
Sera stopped. In her seven years, she had never known her father to lie. If he said Teddy would be okay, then she had no reason to continue to worry, no reason to let the fun die. She turned back to the mess of juice, popcorn and blood on the rug, the wallscreen still scrolling credits.
“I’ll clean up and put the next movie in,” she hollered into the bathroom. She could only hear the muffled voice of her father instructing Teddy to calm down and follow his directions. She waited for his affirmation of her hope that things could resume just as they’d been going—no reply came. To her, suddenly, it seemed unfair that Teddy had sucked the life out of their fun.
“We’re still going out on the boat tomorrow, right?” Sera asked, louder. “Right daddy?”
“Not now!” her father replied in a rare flash of anger. She questioned her original assumption:
Maybe things aren’t back to normal. Maybe everything’s bad again.
Before her mind slipped into familiar depression, she walked into the kitchen, grabbed a towel, and returned to clean up the mess.
Morning dawned on Cedar Minor, a red gold wonder lighting its sky. By the Conlon’s cabin rental stretched a deep lake, pressing itself through twining forest leads, reflecting the copper birth overhead. A long wooden dock yawned on the lake; roped to a pole at its end, wobbled a fishing boat. A lone figure, slightly taller than four feet, hopped and skipped along the dock. She sat at its edge, pulled off her sandals, then dipped her toes into the water. Cool liquid pressed between each of her toes. She paddled back and forth and stared down, trying to make our her feet through the brackish water. A wooden door slapped back against its frame. Sera twisted her neck to see the cabin. Her father strode out toward her, Teddy nowhere in sight.
He sat down beside her, and she knew his words before they exited his mouth: “I’m sorry hon, Teddy won’t be feeling good enough to go out today. I’m going to stick around to keep an eye on him. You understand, right?”
She wanted to yell at him, to tell him that it wasn’t fair, that there would never be another chance, that Teddy was responsible for ruining their vacation, their chance of being a family again. She wrestled with darkness she couldn’t understand. Her father placed his strong arm on her tiny shoulder and caressed her hair the way her mother had used to do. She wanted to tell him to stop, that only mom could do that. She wanted to scream at him, and tell him it was his fault that she died, that he was supposed to protect her no matter what. Instead of words, she made tears. Her father pushed her head into his massive chest, in this moment somehow as soft as her mother’s had been. Mom’s voice spoke: It wasn’t his fault. You have to let go. It was nobody’s fault.
Sera lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. The last day of the trip had been one giant, wasted opportunity. Teddy had started to heal already, but dad had kept them inside. He had said he didn’t want to run the risk of an infection on a fringe world, so far from civilization and good hospitals. Though she couldn’t accept that they’d never get to go on a boat, she decided that she half-understood why: she didn’t want her brother to get sick. A soft knock came at the bedroom door.
“Come in,” she said. Dad had tucked her in two hours ago—what does he want now?
Teddy walked into her room.
“Teddy.”
“Shhh,” he hissed.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
“I feel really bad about what happened, how the vacation ended. I know how much you wanted to go on the boat,” Teddy said in his best thirteen-year-old adult voice. “So I’m going to make it up to you.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. That stupid table shouldn’t have been there.”
“We go home tomorrow morning. Tonight is the last chance we have to take the boat.”
Sera thought of her home world, New Earth Two—all of its water ran in pipelines, and there were certainly no lakes. It really would be their last chance to drive a boat on a lake.
“Dad would never let us,” she finally replied, thinking it through.
“I know that, stupid. Don’t talk so loud. We’re going out tonight.”
Sera looked to her window—a cold black square—out of place in the warm, golden room. “It’s too dark.”
“No it’s not, I just checked outside. You can’t see it, but there’re two full moons tonight.”
“Dad will be mad at us.”
“It’ll be worth it. He saved for a year to take us here. When we get back home, he’s going to be working sixty hour weeks to make up for this trip—he’ll want to know we enjoyed it as much as we could. This is our last chance. And I’m not stopping you from what you really wanted to do on vacation because of my dumb wrist.” He held up his half-red, gauze-wrapped arm.
Sera looked back to him from the window: “Are you sure we’ll have enough light?”
“C’mon, get dressed. Quietly. Meet me in the hall.”
Teddy hadn’t lied: they snuck down to the dock under bright silver moonlight. He nervously glanced back at the house when they reached the water’s edge.
“What is it?” Sera asked.
“Nothing, I just want to make sure we didn’t wake him up.”
Sera kicked off her sandals and touched one foot into the water—it was only slightly colder than the morning; silver ripples ran away, the lines of the moons’ shattering reflections.
“You were right Teddy, it is really light out. There’re so many stars. I can’t wait until I can pilot my first spaceship,” she said.
“Shut up and get in. You’re not going to get hung up on flying ships when we’re about to finally go boat riding, are you?” he said, steadying the rocking boat.
“No—I’d rather do this.”
She stepped in and took a seat. Teddy untied the boat, grabbed an oar, and dug it into the muck below them. He pushed hard and they were moving, drifting toward the distant shore.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” Sera said, mesmerized by the wake of the boat, pushing wide lines in time with Teddy’s steadfast rowing.
“It is. Check the cabin, do you see anything?” Teddy asked, breathing hard.
“No. The coast is clear. We made it.”
“We did. Now isn’t this nice,” he said, and began to set the oars back into their hinges.
“Thanks Teddy. I love you—you’re the best big brother in the world,” she said, looking up to the silver globes above. It felt weird—saying I love you. When mom had been around, they’d said it all the time—it was normal then. Ever since her death, it had become taboo for some reason. But she knew, as strange as it had felt to say it, it felt right, for it was true.
“Shit,” Teddy said.
“What?” she looked back at her brother. He’d lost one of the oars into the black waters.
“I can’t reach it.” He stretched as far as he could, reeling back before the boat rail came too close to the water.
“What are we going to do?” Sera asked, beginning to worry. Teddy ignored her and worked vigorously with his one oar, switching sides every other stroke. Sera waited but he didn’t reply. He worked harder to bring them close to the oar, but with each stroke in which he gained a meter, he seemed to lose it right back to some mysterious current in the water.
“Teddy?” Sera said, quivering. She looked back at the shrinking cabin, most of its lights out, her father sleeping too far away to help them if something should happen.
“Shhh,” he silenced her, gasping for breath, rowing frantically. “I’ve almost got it.”
It seemed the oar was finally within reach, and Teddy would not miss his chance. He leaned as far as he could over the edge of the boat without taking on water, grasping for the wooden pole.
He couldn’t reach it without tipping the boat.
“Hold this, don’t lose it,” Teddy said.
“What are you doing?” she said, watching her brother tear off his shirt.
“I’m going to grab it, stay here and hold the oar. Do not let it go,” he said.
“Teddy don’t! Let’s go back. Dad won’t be so mad if we lose one oar. He might not even notice.”
Teddy didn’t listen; instead, he leaped headlong into the water.
“Teddy!” Sera shrieked. A splash, then endless seconds of dark quiet passed as she waited for him to surface. His head rose in a fountain.
“Wooh! That’s cold, but it feels so good!”
“Come back Teddy.” He ignored her and swam toward the oar.
“Got it!” he called. “Haha! It feels so great in here. You should come in.”
“Come back. I’m scared.”
“I am coming back, calm down. Sera look, I got the oar!” he said, proudly holding it high above the water. “Don’t be so sour, you’re ruining the fun,” he smiled, silver light caught in his eyes.
He swam quickly to the edge of the boat, about to hoist himself up, when Sera gasped. He looked up to her; she looked back in the direction of the cabin. Teddy couldn’t see past the boat’s hull.
“What? What is it?”
“It’s dad, he’s at the edge of the dock,” she said. Teddy swum around and saw it for himself: searching out into the lake was their pajama-wearing father.
“He’s going to be so mad at us.”
“We have to get back,” Teddy said, gripping the rail. As he began to pull himself up, he heard his father’s calls:
“Sera! Teddy! Ted!”
Teddy pulled, pulling the boat down toward the water.
“Teddy no!” screamed Sera, but it was too late. The boat tipped, flipping her into the cool water. She frantically grabbed her brother, dragging him down with her into darkness. Their father leaped from the dock, swimming as hard as he could toward the violent splashing.
“Sera—stop—you’re—pulling me—down!” cried Teddy, struggling to grip the mossy, upturned keel of the boat, unable to hold on as Sera wrapped her body around him and tried to climb his body to the surface, pushing him under.
“Daddy help!” she screamed, clawing up her brother’s shoulders, struggling desperately for air.
The moons watched: A tiny dot moved, drawing a line of foam in its wake—father—along the one hundred meter expanse of lake that separated him from all the family he had in the world.
Hollers turned to voiceless splashing.
Two points slowly converged, fate changing its mind as if by whim. They became a singular form, enlarged, slowly losing energy, speed, and closeness to life.
34
Bright white lights, a cold metal wall, and a nurse greeted Sera as she opened her eyes. She was lying flat, face up on a hospital bed. The nurse moved the light aside and her face came into view: it was warm, round, her mother’s—not her mother’s, but familiar.
Am I dreaming?
“Are you awake?” said the nurse.
“Where am I?” Sera said.
“Doctor Shaw, she’s awake. Doctor Shaw,” the nurse said. “Relax honey, you’re in good hands. The doctor’s coming in.”
Doctor? What’s wrong? Why am I here?
“Hi, I’m Doctor Shaw.” A face, old, wrinkled, filled her vision. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Sera.”
“Good. Sera, you’re okay and you’re safe here. I’m going to have to ask you some questions—is that okay with you?”
“What happened? Where am I?” She tried to remember: popcorn, a movie, Teddy’s fall, the gash—the lake.
We snuck out onto the lake.
“Where’s daddy? Where’s Teddy?” Sera said.
Teddy’s voice split her head: you’re—pulling me—down.
“Are you hungry Sera? What would you like to eat?” the doctor said, ignoring her.
“Where’s daddy? Where is he? Where’s Teddy?” she said, hysterical.
“Calm down, it’s going to be okay,” the doctor said, motioning toward the nurse.
Sera looked at her hand and realized it did not look anything like her own; somehow, her fingers were lighter in color, her nails were longer and thinner, and her h
air was the wrong color. She screamed and kicked, but found her body strapped to her bed. The doctor hovered over, restraining her, whispering calm words that did nothing to ease her terror. The nurse handed him a long needle.
The bright white light of the hospital room dissolved into gray, then black. Her fear transformed into strange dreams of silver light that broke upon the sleek wood of two oars.
35
“They’re in a coma. They may not recover. We’ve been through this, Sera,” said an impatient voice.
Sera looked away, fighting not to remember.
He said everything would be fine. Just a quick dash onto the lake and back. No one was supposed to get hurt. There was enough of that already. It’s not fair. I can’t do this.
“Sera?”
She turned back to her doctor, her eyes wet steel.
“You’re going to have to leave in a few days’ time. We will continue to watch after them as long as we can. You have to say goodbye. You want to say bye, don’t you?”
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