by H. A. Swain
“Wow,” I say, looking with newfound respect at Darshan glimmering in my peripheral. “You can really do that?”
“Sure. It’s not even that hard. These old models are super easy to break into. Actually, I can’t believe they let you have one. Why don’t you have an implant like everybody else at MUSC?”
“I always thought it was because we didn’t have the money, but turns out—”
“Parents didn’t want you compromised?” he asks.
My jaw drops. “How’d you know?”
“That’s what I’d do if I had a kid,” he says. “The less connected you are to the cybermind, the more freedom you have in life. You want access to the machine, but you don’t want to become a part of it.”
“Gad,” I say. “Talitha’s right. You’re brilliant.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, just a bit, in what I think might be a glimmer of a smile.
“You want me to change his appearance? Get rid of that goofy old-school British accent?” Castor holds out his hand.
“Sure.” I laugh and hand over my device. “And while you’re in there, can you make him understand the difference between physical illness and being nervous so he’ll stop asking me why my heart is racing and I’m sweating?”
“You mean you want him to read your emotions?” Castor says with a snort as he rustles around in his knapsack. He takes out a palm-size black device with a screen and a few wires that he physically attaches to my device. “I can’t help you there! My brain functions more like a robot.” He rolls through lines of code on his screen, reworking them as he goes. “Feelings are Talitha’s job.”
My heart palpitates at the thought of Talitha. “You’re sure she’ll be on this Shuttle?” I ask, and hold my breath.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he admits.
My heart sinks. “What if—” I say.
“No what ifs. This is Talitha’s plan. We have to trust her, but…” He frowns and bites his bottom lip. “I wish I knew why D’Cart is sending her up there.” He looks out the window at the Moon. “She said something about ending the ExploroBot program and expanding her empire, but I don’t know what that means or how Talitha is a part of her plan, do you?”
“Sorry, I have no idea. But if D’Cart thinks she can take on MUSC, she must be all kinds of crazy. That place is a fortress.” I shiver at the thought of Talitha being caught in the middle of some ill-fated plan. “But, Castor, I promise you, I’ll keep her safe until she can get back here.”
“And what about you? Will you come back to Earth, too?”
“I doubt it.” I look away and hug the little toy dog to stop from shaking. “I’ll probably be assigned some horrible LWA as punishment and not be allowed to leave again until my mother dies.” I gaze out at the vague shapes of cactus and crooked Joshua trees dotting the mountains in the murky moonlight. “I wish I had more time here.”
He hands me my device.
“What about you? What are you going to do?” I ask.
He pulls in a deep breath. “First, I’m going to figure out what that loony bird D’Cart is up to. Then I’m going to kick Mundie’s ass.”
“Be careful,” I warn.
“Don’t worry. I have backup,” he says with a wink.
Out the windscreen, we see a line of blue AutoTrucks with the MUSC logo pass by on the road.
“Time for you to go,” says Castor. “Will you be able to get on board?”
“That’s the least of my worries,” I say with a dark chuckle. “As soon as they know I’m coming, SecuriBots will swarm me like flies.” I take a deep breath and steel myself for what’s to come. Darshan, I command, alert MUSC that I’m returning on this Shuttle.
MUSC has been alerted. Shuttle boarding has begun, says Darshan, who now has deep red hair and a flat American accent that makes me chuckle.
“Thanks, Castor,” I say. “Now whenever Darshan talks to me, I’ll think of you.”
“My pleasure,” Castor says, then he pulls me in for a quick hug. Despite how much he looks like Talitha, his embrace is nothing like hers. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too.” I climb out of the car and walk on shaky legs toward the terminal entrance. I go slowly so that I can savor every last moment on the surface of the Earth. I breathe in deeply, drawing the atmosphere into my lungs. Nitrogen and oxygen and argon, true and real. In the distance, I see a small pinprick of light speeding toward the Shuttle site, buzzing like an angry insect, and wonder what it could be.
I stop for a moment to watch the life-support capsules holding the bodies of the brain-dead soldiers unloaded by WorkerBots from the back of the MUSC AutoTrucks onto a conveyor belt going into the belly of the Shuttle. Of course, I want to run to the tarmac, shouting Talitha’s name as I rip open each casket until I find her. But then what? We wouldn’t get very far with all the MUSC security around. The best chance I have at seeing her again is to follow her plan and get on board.
As soon as I step inside the terminal entrance, two SecuriBots clamp onto my wrists. I tighten my grip on the little toy dog as they escort me up the escalator, over the beautiful babbling stream, away from the green wall welcoming me to Earth.
At the top, we pause, waiting for the boarding doors to open. From here, through the enormous windows, I see the sun casting faint morning beams over the mountains to the east. There’s just enough light to see the planet one last time. It’s almost hard to look. There’s so much I’m about to lose. So much I haven’t done and seen. So much I’ll never do.
“Good-bye,” I whisper to everything I’m leaving behind. Before I look away, I see something very strange. A fat-tired, rainbow motorbike with a sidecar skids to a stop beside the tarmac in a puff of dust. A person climbs off the bike and pushes sand goggles to the top of her head to survey the area.
“Rhea?” I say aloud.
She reaches down and lifts something out of the sidecar. The sand swirling around her is too thick for me to see what it is at first, but as the sand settles, Castor runs toward her from his Pod. She sets the squirming bundle on the ground, and I see clearly.
“Quasar!” I shout, and kick the window. The dog hobbles toward Castor, back paw held delicately in the air. Castor catches him up in his arms and lifts him to his chest while Quasar smothers him in kisses.
The door ahead of me begins to hiss. “No, wait!” I yell, but there’s no waiting any longer. My return to MUSC has been set in motion. The SecuriBots pull me away.
“Stop!” I struggle to get another look before I’m dragged inside. Are Rhea and Quasar the backup Castor was talking about? Are they here to rescue Talitha?
“What about me?” I yell at no one. “Don’t make me go alone!”
One of the bots backs off, as the other one yanks me through the boarding door, which shuts and locks behind us. I turn and kick at the door, terrified that I’ve been tricked. Was this the plan all along? To lure me onto the Shuttle with a false story of being reunited with Talitha? Was it his idea or hers?
The other MUSCies stare at me as the SecuriBot drags me wailing to my seat. I must look bizarre to them, real tears shedding from my face, unprotected by a hood. They grimace at me, but I don’t care.
From the back of the Shuttle, a man stands up. “Uma?” he calls. I glare at him, then see it’s Burnell Chen-Ning.
“Guess you found me,” I sneer at him as the bot pushes me into the first seat, then locks my harness into place. Luckily, there’s no one across the aisle from me, so I can cry as miserably as I want without anyone looking at me. The bot parks itself in in the bulkhead area in front of me and trains a red visual sensor on my chest to make sure I don’t try to make a break. I squirm in my seat to get a look out the window and see whether Castor and his mother have found Talitha, but the AutoTrucks and the cargo loading bay are too far under the belly for me to see from where I sit. Now there is nothing that I can do. No way to escape. No way to know if Talitha is going with me to the Moon. I clutch the little stuffed dog an
d cry like a small child as the Shuttle engines rev.
TIME STAMP
SUMMER SOLSTICE
MOON
DAY 3, MONTH OF SOL, MUSC YEAR 94
EARTH
JUNE 21, 2XXX
UMA JEMISON
MUSC SHUTTLE TO THE MOON
I WATCH OUT the window of the Shuttle as we taxi beneath the full Moon on the horizon. Some Earthlings call this a supermoon, and tonight I understand why as I watch it full and foreboding on this summer solstice night. I feel its power over me. Calling me back. I doze fitfully through the takeoff and exit from Earth’s atmosphere. Through hours of climbing into the weightlessness of space, I dream of searching for something I can’t find. I look through every exhibit at a hologram zoo. I hunt through hundreds of petri dishes lined on shelves. I flip through an endless Stream of channels. I go through tunnels and climb mountains and dig through piles of trash, but I can’t find the thing I seek. Finally, I wake up, bladder screaming, body stiff and sore. Now that we’re nearly home, the SecuriBot’s red light is out and my harness is unlocked.
I unbuckle and use the handles on the ceiling to navigate through the aisle toward the lavs in the back. Since I’m calm, none of the MUSCies on board seem to notice me. Most of them are asleep or lost in their work Streams anyway, including Burnell Chen-Ning, who’s zoned out in his seat.
In the lav, I relieve myself in a VacuuTube and wash up, then I float out to the snack area, where I stare at a display of drink pouches and packs of freeze-dried food. I know I must be hungry, but I’m too sad to eat. I sigh and start to turn away, then I notice a thin mesh curtain affixed from floor to ceiling between the lav and the snack bar. Affixed to the wall is a small sign that says CARGO HOLD. I reach out and press my hand against the sign, wondering if Talitha could be down there in the belly of the ship after all. What if Castor and Rhea couldn’t find her? What if she didn’t want to go with them? My heart speeds up. If she’s here, I don’t have to wait until we land to find her, but I do have to get inside the hold.
I look behind me to make sure no one’s watching, then I push the curtain aside. In front of me is the outline of a closed door etched in the back wall of the cabin. I search for a handle or a button to let me inside. I just want to see her. To know if she’s here or if I’m truly alone.
Darshan, I command, open the cargo hold door.
The cargo hold door can only be accessed in an emergency, Darshan tells me.
This is an emergency, I argue, and wonder if Castor lied about installing a blanket override.
No emergency status has been received from the automated flight crew.
Override, I command, then hold my breath and wait.
After a few seconds, red-haired Darshan says, The cargo hold door is locked.
Override lock? I say, uncertain Darshan will be able to do what I ask. But, to my surprise, he projects a hologram keypad on the wall and flashes a series of numbers on my Lenz. I enter the code on the keypad slowly and carefully, then wait, my stomach churning. After a few seconds, the door wheeshes open.
Quickly, I pull myself through and propel past stacks of clear storage bins bolted to the walls and stocked with extra food and beverage pouches, travel suits in various sizes, lavatory supplies, and first aid kits. I pass giant floor-to-ceiling containers of sanctioned Earth goods—mostly vacuum-packed, decontaminated fruits and veggies and nuts, bags of irradiated soil, blocks of salt, and a few small luxuries like plant-fiber clothing and bags of coffee.
At the bottom, lining the belly of the Shuttle, I find the ExploroBots.
Ten of them hang in life-support jelly bags anchored to the floor by thick black straps. They sway like animal carcasses in a meat locker. Except the ExploroBots aren’t dead. And not exactly alive either. They’re somewhere in between, which is exactly how MUSC wants them. The vague outline of a human form is visible through each opaque bag, but the gel inside that keeps the bodies in a state of suspended animation is too thick for me make out facial features, and I’m glad. As much as I want to find Talitha, I don’t want to look into the eyes of these undead humans. It’s bad enough that I can hear their labored breathing through the ventilation filters attached to their mouths. One coughs, and the bag jiggles, which sends a sickening shiver through my body.
My father or mother or I could have ended up here, had we not made it off the Earth in time. Talitha’s father was here, and now she may be, too. I shake my head at the stupidity of it all.
If the people before us had taken care of the Earth … If they had listened to the scientists calling for action for decades as glaciers the size of large cities sloughed off into the oceans … If they had used their resources more wisely … If they had stopped consuming so much and caring only about being entertained … If they hadn’t elected egomaniacs to office who promised the impossible and delivered only benefits for the wealthiest few … If, if, and only if. When confronted face-to-face with all this senseless death, I understand why the first humans left the Earth. Because there are no different versions of the world. Where we are is all there is. All other doors have been slammed shut. Once science died and reason was replaced by gut feeling and alternative facts, what was left to do but start fresh someplace else?
I draw in a ragged breath, terrified both of finding Talitha in this state or not finding her at all as I push through the bags, reading the names, serial numbers, and a list of injuries on each one:
ALSOP, 12ksdl393, chest wound, lower left extremity amputee
BINLARBY, 45345lkq545, right eye missing, hip fracture, no liver function
CZENSKI, 900945isda, partial spinal cord severance
GREIG, 57854clik, double amputee to knee
KAOUTHAI, 48482, total spinal cord severance at C12
MYEONG, 55098, shrapnel to heart, collapsed lung, left arm amputee
PATEL, 45459, renal failure, occipital brain damage
SANCHEZ, 11218, burns to 80% of body surface
TEVALATHIAN, 493406zpyd, internal injuries
VYHOVSKY, 46064, blunt force trauma to skull
I go through twice, listening to the dissonant inhale and exhale of the bodies, the rattle of coughs, but I don’t find one labeled Neva. My heart plunges as the reality of the situation sinks into my brain. My stomach ties in knots. My skin prickles with shame as I allow myself to fully comprehend. It was all a ruse. Talitha is gone. I was tricked by her or her brother or both, but what did I expect? Their lives were spent in parody. They are brilliant thieves and masterful liars.
I will return to MUSC, shamefaced and in trouble, my LWA placement in the toilet. And for what? An impulse? A desire? Some feeling that I thought was love? Ha! Kepler and Castor are right. Human emotions are stupid and only get in the way.
And yet I can’t stop feelings from burbling up inside of me—sadness and betrayal and anger spill out of me like lava spewing from a volcano. I curl into a ball and wail with my fist pushed into my mouth. I let myself cry for like this several minutes. I don’t care if anyone in the Shuttle hears me. I don’t care what they think of the foolish Earthling that I am because whatever they think of me is probably true. I am an idiot! An easy mark. How could I ever think a girl as beautiful and conniving as Talitha would love someone as plain and stupid as me?
“Talitha,” I moan. “Talitha, oh, Talitha!” until I can’t cry anymore, then I float silently away from the ExploroBot bodies. In the silence, I hear a sound. A cry, really. “Uuuuuuu” echoes through the belly of the Shuttle.
Afraid I’ve woken the dead (or half dead) with my cries, I swim away.
“Mmmmmmm,” it says. “Aaaaaa.”
I should leave these people in peace. They don’t need to deal with my pain on top of their own. But then I hear it again.
“Uuuuuuu. Mmmmmmm. Aaaaaa.” And a cough. “Uuuuuuu. Mmmmmmm. Aaaaaa.”
My heart jumps into my throat. I brace myself against a wall and listen more carefully.
“Uuummmaaa.”
“Talitha?�
�� I say. “Talitha, is that you?” I push through the bags again, pressing my ear against the ventilation disk of each body until I come to the one marked Tevalathian one more time. I grab it by the shoulders.
“Talitha!” I yell. “Talitha Neva! Is that you?”
The body inside coughs and moans. I grapple to open it. My hands shake violently as I release the flap, and the top opens like a flower blooming. Then, slowly from the bag, a body rises as if from the dead. It is wrapped in a gauzy shroud and covered with thick, opaque gunk. I try to catch it, but it slips through my arms.
I strip off my shirt and chase the floating body through the air, wiping the goo from the face until I see my Talitha!
“It’s you. It’s really you!” I cry. “I thought I’d never see you again!”
For a few seconds, her eyes flutter open but don’t focus. The bright green of her irises has soured to yellow. Her beautiful hair is gone. Her warm brown skin is now ashy gray, and her perfect lips cracked and flaking white. I hold her against my body. She is racked with a violent cough. I press my lips to her forehead, which is clammy and too warm.
I swim through the cargo hold, dragging Talitha’s body with me as I make my way back up to the storage bins. I find hand washing cloths in the stash of supplies for the lav. I use six of them to clean her up. As I remove the gauze from her skin, I find a small patch attached to her hip.
Darshan, what is this? I blink on the label.
Oxymorphone and benzodiazepene, he says. An anesthesia and amnesiac patch that will last approximately eighteen hours.
With one hand, I press her body against the bins while I pry the patch loose, but it’s firmly in place. I keep picking at the edges, pulling to release it, and in the process, I rip off a bit of skin. Blood seeps out and pools on her hip.
“I’m sorry! So sorry!” I cry as I tear open a first aid kit from the supplies. Small scissors, bandages, wipes, tape, and painkillers float past me. I stanch the bleeding and cover it with an antiseptic bandage. Then I search the rest of her body but find nothing else attached.
