The simulations in the Pretends got progressively harder as the days went on. They practiced traveling through violent weather systems and negotiating catastrophic equipment failures. They fought off wolves and mountain lions, occasionally losing limbs in the process and rushing each other back to the green for emergency bioreplacement. Their mapping systems failed a dozen times over, leaving them to navigate their way back to the settlement using the sun and the stars as their guide. In one Pretend, a forest fire spread through the trees in a mission already plagued by a communications breakdown. The team neglected to keep watch on their air quality meters and missed the spike in CO2 levels that would have clued them in to the danger. The last thing Natasha saw was black, billowing smoke lacing through the trees before Jeffrey (who controlled the sessions) abruptly ended the simulation and spent ten minutes upbraiding them for their inattention.
But they all feared the dirty sweeps the most—when, at the sweep site, they came across half-alive Tribespeople tossed into the trees or sand, their hearts still incomprehensibly beating and their skin open with sour and rot. Once a man rolled down from a pile of toppled trees and took hold of Alejandra around the neck, crying and begging through cracked lips for what could only be water, before Eric wrestled him to the ground and Natasha delivered the merciful shot to the head.
“What do you think of our progress?” Jeffrey asked Natasha one evening as the two of them followed the others out of the Pod. “Think we’d be ready to go Outside, if it wasn’t for the Pines?”
It was the conclusion of the afternoonshift, and the team had just completed their fourth full week of training. Natasha’s shirt radiated the heat and sweat of her body, and she was looking forward to a quick shower before the dinnerhour began.
“We’re definitely close, I think,” Natasha said. “It feels good, it feels like you’ve had us work through every possible disaster.”
“That’s the idea,” Jeffrey said. “Actually, for next week I was thinking of rotating responsibilities—”
But Jeffrey did not finish his thought. As the Pod door slid closed behind them, Jeffrey and Natasha found themselves standing on one side of a strange confrontation. Facing Douglas, Nolan, Eric, and Alejandra—and now Natasha and Jeffrey too—was Raj Radhakrishnan and the four others who had been talking with him on the morning the team was announced.
Raj stood at the edge of the deserted soccer field, his arms folded. Flanking him on one side, leaning against the netted goal, was Mercedes Laplace, her bright hair haloing her face in a frame of tight curls. Eduardo Castilla perched atop the rolled, never-used stretching mats, and beneath him, almost touching, stood Sarah O’Keefe and Ben Rook, both ashen-faced and scowling.
“Finally,” Raj said. His dark eyes swept over their sweaty, disheveled bodies. “We couldn’t believe it when we realized you were still running a simulation. I have to say, as a settlement citizen, the idea of a last-minute cram session doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“What do you want?” asked Jeffrey, looking from one to the other. “Raj, what’s the meaning of all this?”
“Do you really have to ask?” Raj said. He seemed genuinely surprised, but Natasha knew better than to take any performance of his at face value. She couldn’t trust anyone so hateful of the Office of Mercy, no matter her own occasional uneasiness about the sweeps. “We came here,” Raj continued, “because we want to know your plans for the mission. We would have asked Arthur Roosevelt directly, but none of us have clearance for the Department of the Exterior.”
“You know our plans,” Jeffrey answered curtly. “It’s a standard Recovery mission. We’re going to fix the sensors, document the sweep site, and check for survivors. That’s public information.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, that’s all. And now I don’t feel that I owe you any more of my time. Come on, everyone.”
But no one moved.
“You’re telling me the plan from a month ago,” Raj said, glaring at them. “I want to know what the Office of Mercy is thinking now.”
Jeffrey repeated his previous answer, with even less of an effort for civility. “Anyway,” Jeffrey added, “why should it make any difference to you?”
Raj’s eyes hardened; Ben and Sarah laughed disdainfully.
“I don’t think you’re being totally honest,” Raj said. “But that won’t keep me from being honest with you. It makes a difference to me because I have spent most of my working life as an archivist, and I suspect that you are, at this present moment, acting in a way to repeat the wrongs of the past. I want to know, we all want to know, do you intend to enact a manual sweep on the Pines?”
Natasha relaxed a little at these last words and, beside her, Eric did too. So it was only a misunderstanding. Raj and the others did not realize that of course Arthur would not send them into the field until the Office of Mercy had swept the Pines in the usual way, with a nova, or else until the Pines had slipped across the perimeter. That was the plan since the beginning.
But Jeffrey had become disconcerted. “Why would you think that?” he asked.
“Ben saw the engineers bringing your biosuits to the Office of Exit,” said Raj. “We could only assume that you intend to leave the settlement in the morning.”
“If that’s true,” Jeffrey said, “then you know more than us.”
“Why sweep the Tribes at all?” Mercedes said, stepping forward to stand beside Raj, her cheeks and eyes alight with the force of her own accusation. “Why not let them pass through our area and travel south like they’re trying to do? There are inhabitable places there. We’ve seen them on your own satellite feeds. Why can’t you let them be, let them live and grow and reproduce themselves? And then, at the time of Expansion, we could incorporate them. Welcome them as our brothers and sisters of the human race!”
“That’s a conversation for another time, perhaps,” Jeffrey said with mounting impatience. “I would respectfully suggest that you’re ignoring the immense suffering and loss of life that would take place within that timeframe. Not to mention that you are greatly oversimplifying the difficulties of blending ourselves and the Tribes in that way—even in some distant future.”
“You of all people should know best, shouldn’t you, Jeffrey?” said Eduardo, hopping down from the mats. “You’ve killed more Tribespeople than anyone.”
“Enough,” Jeffrey said. “If you don’t get out of my way this instant, I will file a charge with the Alphas for disrupting Department business. If what you say about the mission leaving tomorrow is true, then your interference is all the more serious.”
“Murderers,” Ben spat. But it was an insult made in desperation, Jeffrey was moving past them already.
With a word from Raj, the group pulled away, and the team crossed the playing fields without further harassment, moving quickly toward the Office of Mercy.
“Useless people,” Alejandra huffed. “All talk and no solutions.”
Douglas, Nolan, and Eric quickly agreed, adding their own remonstrations.
“I can’t believe that Eduardo guy would speak to you like that,” said Natasha, catching up to Jeffrey. “We should file a charge.”
Jeffrey shook his head, waving it off, but his mouth and cheeks remained tight, his blue eyes cold.
“No,” he said, “it wouldn’t make any difference. If they’re that elementary in their ethical thinking, then only a solid course of reeducation would correct their minds. I’m more worried about what’s going on in the Office of Mercy right now.” But a second later he muttered, speaking to himself, “Unethical, instinct-driven people. As if the Alphas hadn’t thought through everything. As if I hadn’t.”
Natasha could not think how to respond, but she respected him so much in this moment. More than he could know.
They reached the Office of Mercy minutes later, and Arthur met them at the door.
“I
was just coming to get you,” he said. “There’s something you have to see.”
“Are the Pines attacking?” Alejandra cried.
“No, they’ve left the perimeter. They just picked up and left a couple of hours ago. But—”
“But what?” Jeffrey cut in.
“Well, here, we’re playing the sensor recordings back on the big screen.”
On the overhead screen appeared the image of the Pine camp. Around the room, the current shift workers rolled back from their computers to look. At first, the image of the camp appeared unexceptional, if somewhat more active than usual. The men, women, and children milled around the plateau, near the gaping mouth of the cave that had served as their shelter for the last ninety-four days. Many warmed their hands at the leaping fire outside the cave entrance.
“Watch the group on the far right,” Arthur said.
Three men off to the side—one of whom Natasha recognized as the curly-haired chief—suddenly looked at them, directly at them, their gazes piercing and aware. Eric cursed; Alejandra gasped. An iciness shot through Natasha’s core, her body perceiving the threat almost before she understood it herself. The men’s eyes moved away quickly, but the sensation remained.
“What was that?” Natasha asked.
“You saw it,” said Arthur.
“Hard to miss,” Douglas muttered under his breath.
“Well,” Arthur said, “it gets worse.”
Beside Natasha, Jeffrey seemed stuck in place; his face was absolutely still and his fingers bent awkwardly together. Natasha wished that he would say something, but apparently he was as shocked as the rest of them. The image jumped and now the chief was saying something to the other men. In seconds, his words seemed to spread across the crowd, awakening the bodies into agitation. Natasha noticed that many of the Tribe, even the children, carried woven sacks or other small objects, blankets or tools. The chief looked at the sensor again, only this time the others followed his lead. The screen filled with their hard eyes, and their stares seemed to burn through the cable that connected the sensor receivers to the Office of Mercy, and burn through the screen itself. The curly-haired chief jerked away from the group, approaching the sensor, and others took cautious steps forward. Natasha could see the pockets and wrinkles in their skin, the stubble on their cheeks.
“Great Alpha,” Eric said from behind her.
The chief lingered directly under the tree that held the sensor. Then he disappeared from view. An instant later, the image began to shake; the faces hopped and blurred, until the final blow came and the screen went to static.
“Why didn’t you sweep?” Jeffrey said. He had not spoken till now; everyone turned to look at him. “Right then, before they had the chance to move.”
“We didn’t have a count,” Arthur said. “I didn’t know how fast they’d start moving. We couldn’t see anything.”
“Why not later, then, once you caught them on a different sensor?”
Natasha glanced between Jeffrey and Arthur; she hoped that Arthur would miss the obvious tone of accusation in Jeffrey’s voice.
“There were no other sensors,” Arthur said. “They disabled two more, two on the north mountain ridge, smashed them apart just like the first. Here, we can play it for you.”
They all looked again at the overhead screen and watched as the Pines overwhelmed the images and went behind the sensors, and screens RN22 and RN28 went to static.
“It’s wild,” Douglas said, “a Tribe that knows about our sensors.”
“It’s more than wild,” Alejandra whispered. “It’s terrifying.”
“As long as we’re blind in those areas,” Arthur said, speaking over them, “I consider the settlement in imminent danger of attack. We’re going to have to change our plans. The Recovery team is now strictly a Repair team. Forget about checking the Crane sweep site. The work there will have to wait. Our priority is to repair the three sensors that the Pines destroyed. They’re closer to the settlement.” He tore his attention from the overhead screen and looked at the team. “Unless anyone has questions, you’re all dismissed. We’ll move you out in the morning.”
A cry of surprise rose from the group, Natasha included, and Douglas, Nolan, and Alejandra left the Office of Mercy almost immediately, talking excitedly among themselves. But Eric and Natasha lingered, determined to stay as long as Jeffrey showed no signs of abandoning the Office. Eric kept trying to catch Natasha’s eye, but Natasha would not let him, afraid of responding inappropriately to the news. It was clear that Jeffrey did not share their exhilaration. And indeed, as soon as the others had gone, he turned toward Arthur.
“You can’t be serious about this,” Jeffrey said.
“Of course I’m serious,” Arthur answered.
“But you said you never got an accurate count. What if part of the group stayed behind? Besides, the Tribe’s hardly over the perimeter. They might be planning to double back any minute!”
“If so, then we’d see them coming. Your team would have more than enough time to return to the settlement.”
“Natasha and Eric should stay behind,” Jeffrey said, with an air of decisiveness. “They’re too young for a mission like this. I never would have recommended them for anything but a basic Recovery job. They don’t have the same maturity of judgment. It’s too dangerous.”
The two Epsilons had only just opened their mouths to protest when Arthur spoke for them.
“Natasha and Eric are a part of this mission.”
“The mission has changed.”
“We need everyone, Jeffrey,” Arthur said. “The Alphas agree.”
Arthur dismissed Natasha and Eric again, in more certain terms than before, and this time they cleared out right away, terrified of giving their Director the chance to change his mind.
“We’re going Outside,” Eric said, as soon as they had gotten halfway down the Department hall.
“I know,” said Natasha. “I can’t believe that Jeffrey tried to kick us off the team, though.”
“Who cares? We’re going Outside.”
“Yeah,” said Natasha. “Outside.”
They stared at each other in wonder, and Natasha almost felt like they were kids again, the way they reveled in the confusion and danger of what lay before them. Anything was possible, it seemed, and the expectation of tomorrow swelled and shined like new.
That night Natasha could not sleep, however hard she tried. While Min-he slumbered with her head buried in her pillow, Natasha read two chapters in the Ethical Code, curled up under her blanket and seeing by the soft glow of the pages after the underground nightfall. Entering the field would be a shock, and she wanted to keep her thoughts in the right state to receive it—to maintain within herself a calm and ethical steadfastness. She had performed well in the Pretends and that was good, but the real thing would be another story. As far as upholding the Wall, well, it had occurred to her that this sudden change in the mission’s objective had eased the demands on her behavior. She had prepared herself to confront the Crane sweep site, the place of so much death, but now they would not see it. Instead they would be repairing sensors in the forest and investigating the abandoned, not decimated, Pine camp. Natasha skimmed the text, opening herself to the teachings of the Ethical Code. Perhaps it was the effect of her nerves, but reading the book filled her with a sadness and pride and hopefulness that she had not felt in years: the beauty of human intelligence poured into these words, the enlightenment of the Alphas, and the transcendence of nature’s false laws that the settlements had at last achieved.
5
“Arms out at your sides, please.”
Two long, thin gloves slipped over Natasha’s hands and over her elbows.
“Now lift your right foot. These might feel tight at first, but you’ll get used to it. We wouldn’t want your socks falling down fifteen miles from home.”
White socks of the same synthetic fabric reached halfway up Natasha’s calves.
“We only have the medreaders left. Veronica, if you will?”
Natasha stood very still while a petite Beta woman from the Department of Research began fixing cold, plastic circles, the size of thumbnails, across her bare abdomen, over her heart, and down the length of her spine.
The team was in the Office of Exit, suiting up under the direction of the settlement’s top engineers. They were all naked—the biosuits had to be worn directly against the flesh—and Natasha’s skin was shivery and goose-bumped despite the warm air coming through the vents. Eric and Alejandra were laughing nervously together, while Douglas and Nolan were asking one of the engineers about the particulars of the biosuits’ self-replicating material. Arthur stood in the far corner, his arms folded over his chest, wordlessly evaluating every preparation, ready to jump if he suspected an error.
Across the room, a male engineer was attaching medreaders to Jeffrey’s back. From this angle, Natasha could see the burn that covered Jeffrey’s whole right side, creeping rashlike over his back and stomach and up to his ear. She could not help but stare. Both because she had never seen Jeffrey without clothing before, and because she could hardly imagine the pain of a fire that would leave such a mark. Jeffrey rarely spoke about it, even when Natasha asked directly. “When the Palms attacked, they torched half the forest,” he would say with a shake of his head. “They tricked me into getting too close. But I was making the choices that day, and I have only myself to blame.”
Jeffrey took his glasses off and handed them to one of the engineers. His vision problems, Natasha knew, were a result of the fire too: a slight melting of the cornea, pupil, and retina. One day the doctors would need to bring him into the medical wing and give him new eyes and new optic nerves; though, in the meantime, Jeffrey seemed to be doing okay with the special lenses constructed for him in the Office of Dry Engineering.
Office of Mercy (9781101606100) Page 7
