by Krista McGee
“We live in the palace,” Alex says as he leads me up a staircase with a rail covered in—what else?—gold. “My father, my sister, and me.”
I want to meet Helen, to ask about her. To tell her Peter is all right. But I am not supposed to know anything about her. I have to maintain my story as a fugitive arriving from the State. A fugitive who knows no one in and nothing about New Hope. “And your mother?”
Alex slows down for a moment but then moves on. “She died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” I wait to see if he will elaborate, but he does not.
We reach the top of the stairs, and it leads down a hallway with three doors on each side. “These are the bedrooms. My father has his own suite one floor above, but my sister and I both sleep here. I’m the last room on the right. Helen is across from me. You will stay here, in this first room.”
Alex opens the door and I look in. The room is very large and colorful. Red seems to be the color of choice in here, with the bed covering, the window coverings, and the floor coverings all in the same scarlet shade. But the fabric is different. I walk to the window and touch it. It is soft, but not like the material used in New Hope and certainly not what we had in the State. “What is this?”
“Do you like it?” Alex is behind me. Closer than I would like. If I turn, we would almost be touching. He smells nice, a different sort of smell than anything I’ve encountered before. He reaches past my shoulder to touch the fabric, grazing my arm with his. “We develop that material here. It is synthetic silk. I’ll show you the factory later.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Alex finally moves away, and I rush out of the room. His nearness is disconcerting. His kindness is baffling. What did his father say to Alex to make him so attentive? What were the unspoken messages being sent? I expected to be an oddity, coming from the State. And I knew they would want to know more about what is going on there. But they aren’t asking me questions. Alex is giving me a tour and standing close. The king remains in his chamber. Of all the scenarios I imagined, this was not one of them.
I look to my right. There is another set of stairs at the end of the hallway, leading up to the king’s suite or down into the kitchen. We go down. As we descend, something smells wonderful. My stomach growls as soon as we reach the last step.
“Would you like some lunch?” Alex snaps his fingers and a woman stirring a pot at a cooking appliance quickly turns. Her eyes look almost empty.
“Yes, Prince Alex? What can I do for you?”
“My guest is hungry.”
The woman lowers her head and opens a door that leads to a storage room. She comes out with a plate, silverware, and a cup. She fills the plate with the contents of the pot she was stirring. She walks with it into an adjoining room. Alex follows her in and seats me at a long table. It is gold and filled with bowls of fruit and candles, and covered with a cloth made out of the same material I saw in the bedroom. The plate is decorated all along the edges. I touch the designs. I have never seen anything like it.
“We make those too.” Alex smiles as the woman places a drink in front of me. The cup has a design that mirrors that of the plate.
“Beautiful.”
“What do you use in the State?”
Now he asks questions. I want to begin eating—the food smells delicious, even though I have no idea what is in it—but I explain how everything in the State is white. The food is genetically engineered to provide us with the nutrients we need.
“But how does it taste?”
“Taste?” I think of the meals we shared in Pod C. “I never thought about it.”
“Then it must not be very good.” Alex turns to face me. “Try this and tell me what you think.”
I take a forkful of the meal and place it in my mouth. My mouth waters and I close my eyes with the pleasure of it. “Wonderful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Alex smiles.
He really has a kind face. Perhaps he is more like his sister than his father. I want to ask him about himself. I find the process of learning about a person fascinating; something I have only recently been able to do. In the State, I knew everyone since birth. There was no need to ask them any questions. I knew all the answers. And this . . . this prince—raised by a king in a world totally different from John’s or mine, totally different from New Hope. I want to know everything about him—his past, his memories. But I hold back. I am not here to get to know Alex. I am here to find out about Athens. But couldn’t I do both?
I stop thinking because I need to concentrate on what I am eating. Flavors are bursting on my tongue, even after I swallow. I want to enjoy the sensations. I don’t recall the food in New Hope tasting this good.
Alex is watching me. One trait that is the same from the outside here is his stare. He watches everything I do. But it isn’t quite as uncomfortable as I thought. In fact, I might like it. I need a friend here, an ally. Maybe Alex could be that. And if he could be, there is hope. He is heir to the throne. He doesn’t seem the type to burn someone alive or try to destroy innocent villagers.
Of course, I have been fooled before. I need to spend more time with him before I consider trusting this young man.
I take the last bite of the food with reluctance. “This was the best thing I have ever tasted.”
“This was a simple dish.” Alex’s blue eyes twinkle in the lamplight. “Wait until you try some of our gourmet dishes.”
“I can’t wait.” That is one whole truth I can gladly state.
“There’s much more of the palace to see.” Alex stands.
“I don’t know if I have the energy to see more right now.” Just standing made me tired. “I just want to sleep. Is that all right?”
“Of course. That is the sign of a good meal.”
I walk back to my room, still savoring the taste of the food. Perhaps Athens isn’t as terrible a place as I was led to believe. I fall into the bed covered in synthetic silk and dream of breakfast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A week has gone by. It has taken that long for me to see all of Athens.
The day after I arrived I toured the rest of the palace. And I ate steak and potatoes and asparagus, all flavored with different spices. All delicious. The palace is ornate and massive and unlike anything in the State. It was built from stones quarried not far from here, natural stone. Most of the furniture and appliances are made from synthetic materials, but none of those materials are similar to what was made in the State. They were all made here. I asked who helped develop them—knowing the answer—but Alex only responds that it was “the people.”
Then he took me to see what the people do—we spent the last few days touring factories that make everything from utensils to vehicles. Everyone works without complaint. They all seemed happy to see Alex. And Alex was happy to see them. He is kind to everyone. Authoritative but kind. He knows the names of many people. I cannot even try to recall all the names I heard. They are so strange, names like Abraham and Katherine and Nicholas. I have difficulty even pronouncing them.
These Athenians do not seem at all like the evil people Peter and Diana painted them to be. They work hard and laugh and seem to enjoy their lives. I saw some last night, singing and eating at what Alex called a restaurant, playing games at large tables. They didn’t appear to be worried that they would be destroyed by a brutal king or plotting the deaths of innocent people in the nearby village.
I am feeling more and more confident that Alex could be an ally in brokering peace with New Hope. He seems to want what is best for the people of Athens. He wants them to be happy and successful. He is very concerned for my welfare too, always asking if I slept well, if I liked my food, if there is anything more I need.
The king calls me to his chambers every day. He asks many questions about the State—what I learned, how I was taught, what the Scientists were doing. I answer as much as I can to demonstrate a thorough knowledge. I try not to speak too much of Berk and Rhen. Nothing of
John. I told them I escaped alone. The kinder they are to me, the more guilt I feel at deceiving them. But if I am right and they are better than those in New Hope believe, then maybe I can reveal the truth in time.
I recall my conversation with Peter and Diana, the fear and anger in their eyes. I recall seeing a group from Athens riding toward New Hope, to take their food and set fire to their homes. What I am seeing now and what I saw then are paradoxical. I must determine the truth before I can move on.
“I have a surprise for you today.” Alex stands outside my door. He is wearing a purple shirt and brown pants, a departure from his usual black.
“A surprise?” I follow Alex down the stairs that lead through the grand hall to the heavy door at the palace entrance.
It is warm outside, and I am grateful for the dress Helen loaned me. I don’t see her often. I feel a connection to her because of what Peter said. But Alex says she rarely leaves her room. “Depressed” he called it. I tried to press him for more information about his sister, but he responded in much the same way as he did when I asked him about his mother: with complete silence.
But Helen did bring a box full of clothes to my room three days ago. Clothes like this dress, made out of the synthetic silk. It feels cool against my skin. I find it strange to have my legs bare, but I can learn to enjoy this sensation. I wish Helen would have stayed and talked to me. She left the box outside my room, knocked, and was gone by the time I opened the door.
The walkways here are narrow. So much of the space is filled with buildings—some homes, many factories. Very little food is grown or raised here. When I asked Alex about that, he simply said they have outside sources for that. I want to ask him more about that. Those “outside sources” are the people of New Hope. I want to tell him those people work hard to raise their crops, that they don’t deserve to have their crops taken from them, that they could combine their resources and be two strong communities at peace instead of two separate, warring communities.
But I don’t say any of that because the time is not right. And because Alex is talking and I am supposed to be listening, learning more about this city.
We pass the largest building—their medical facility. Alex told me they are most proud of their pharmaceuticals. I tried to mock surprise when he said two of the Scientists from the State escaped here not long after the War. He said they were able to develop vaccines for the children and medicine for the sick. So much good has been done here. Peter and Diana did not mention any of that. Maybe they didn’t know.
“Here it is.” The building, like all the others, is coated in black. Solar power in Athens is infused in the black paint, allowing the entire city to have electricity and maintain the factories. An ingenious device, actually, using space that is already available to serve a dual purpose.
He opens the door of a small building. Dust fills my nostrils. This is obviously used very little. He turns the knob for the light panels, and I see piles of dusty instruments. Clarinets and oboes and saxophones. I want to jump up and shout when I see a violin on its side in the far corner of the room.
“I remember you said you were a Musician in the State,” Alex says. “We haven’t used this building for years—we’ve been too focused on other tasks. But you are welcome to choose as many instruments as you want, and we will have them sent back to the palace for you to play anytime.”
I put my hand over my chest. I cannot speak. My eyes feel like my stomach the first day I was here—starving, with a delicious feast set before me.
“I have to visit one of the factories.” Alex is speaking, but I barely hear him. “I will leave you here. Can you find your way back to the palace when you’re done?”
I think I want to move my room here, stay for days, weeks, and never come out. But I just nod at Alex, my mind filling with music.
“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” Something in his tone pulls me back to this room.
“Of course.” I look into his eyes, making sure he understands how sincerely I feel this. “Happier than I have been in a long time.”
Another look passes over Alex’s face. I don’t know what it is, but the thrill at being with so many instruments keeps me from being able to think about it.
Alex shuts the door, and I rush to the violin. It is coated with dust. I open a cabinet and find cleaning cloths and sheets of music. Somewhere in the history of Athens, someone loved music. I can bring that love back.
I rub the cloth into the wood, clean the strings, tighten them, and find a bow in decent enough shape to use. My heart aches with longing to play. I lift the instrument to my chin, lay the bow on the strings, and play all I have been feeling since we arrived here.
I find my memories of New Hope are fuzzy. I can’t even recall the emotion of traveling from the State to get there. I remember seeing Alex greet me outside Athens. His friendly smile, his helpfulness. The kindness of the king. This is a wonderful place, and I am fortunate to be here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I am playing the piano when Alex returns. The instrument is terribly out of tune, but I enjoy the feel of the keys beneath my fingers anyway.
“You play beautifully.” Alex pulls a chair next to me. “Please don’t stop. I have never heard piano playing before.”
“How can you have all these instruments and allow them to sit and collect dust?” I talk as I play. Alex is watching my fingers.
“After the War my grandfather insisted the people of Athens focus on building the factories.” Alex leans back in his chair as I transition to another song. “He wanted our city to be firmly established. Then the wall needed to be constructed, our forces needed to be trained . . .”
“Forces?” I stop playing.
“We have enemies.”
“But the War?” I’m not sure how much I should reveal.
“Ours wasn’t the only group of survivors. There is another, smaller village about sixty miles away.”
“Why don’t you work together?” I try to keep my voice as even as possible. Curious, not demanding. “Why must you be enemies?”
Alex shrugs, his blue eyes looking deep into mine. “They do not wish to work with us.”
I bite back an argument. Are they really trying? I saw no evidence that New Hope had animosity toward Athens. But all I heard was their perspective. Perhaps there is more going on. I cannot rid myself of this feeling that the people of Athens are better than what those in New Hope believe.
“So how did you learn to play so well?”
“I was designed to play well.”
“Designed?” Alex says the word like he has never heard it before. It is easy to forget what different beginnings we have had.
“You say there were Scientists here who escaped the State.” I play again. I can speak with greater freedom when I am playing than when I have nothing to do but look at Alex. “Did they not speak of their work?”
“I did not know the Scientists well. But what does that have to do with anything?”
I sigh. This is a strange discussion. I begin playing again, modifying the key of the piece to reflect this. Alex laughs. It is a nice sound. “I do not have parents.”
“What?” Alex jumps up. I keep playing and he eventually returns to his seat.
“The Scientists believed that the ancient way of procreating was detrimental to the evolution of the human species. So they eliminated it.”
“But how—?” This is the first time I have ever seen Alex anything but confident.
“The ingredients to create life were stored in the State years before the War. The Scientists use those ingredients to develop embryos. The Geneticists then inject the embryos with the genes they will need to be of most use to the State.” I repeat what I was taught in so many lessons. “Each member of each pod has a role to fill. Each role is important, each individual is important, and we all must work together to maintain peace and unity in the State.”
“So you were . . . made?”
I think of the Designer,
of how John told me we are his creations. He created the ingredients for life. The Scientists might manipulate them, but that does not make us any less his. But I do not feel the freedom to say that to Alex yet. “I was designed to be a Musician.”
“So you were just born knowing how to play like that?”
It is my turn to laugh. “No. I had to take lessons and practice. But I have the intellect and gifting to be able to learn quickly and retain well.”
“Did you enjoy living there?”
“That is a difficult question.” So many memories flood my mind. “It was all I knew, so in that respect I enjoyed it. I was able to play instruments almost every day, and I enjoyed that very much.”
“But . . . ?”
“But I was very different.” I think of the many times I was corrected for my behavior, of how I always felt out of place.
“In what way?”
“I was an anomaly.” Even now, even with all I have learned, admitting that is difficult. “We were designed without the excessive emotions the Scientists believed were harmful.”
“I do recall my father discussing that with me.” Alex leans forward. “But he disagreed with the Scientists. He thinks emotions are very good. Necessary, even.”
I swallow hard. Alex is so close to me, I can feel his breath on my face. I lean back. “I was to be annihilated because of mine.”
“Annihilated?” Alex’s voice rises. He certainly has no problem expressing emotions. “That is ridiculous.”
“That is why I escaped.”
“I’m glad you did.” There is something I cannot identify in Alex’s eyes. Almost like he’s sad. But then it passes, and he is confident again. “I think you will find you are most welcome here in Athens.”
