Voices enter the room. A doctor? More than one? I don’t recognize any of the voices, and they’re talking too low for me to catch more than a couple of words.
“Progressing much faster than we thought…” This voice is deep, masculine, but I can’t place it. Not one of my regular doctors.
“Not much time left…” This one is feminine, gentler, younger.
“How could we have missed it?” Is he a doctor? He must be, otherwise he wouldn’t be in here.
Hey, I’m still here! I hear you!
“Move the transfer up,” the male doctor says. The female says something else, but I can’t catch it. She speaks too low for me, and her words slip through my mind like smoke. “No, I don’t care if he wants it or not. He’ll die without it.”
No! I’m not ready yet. Ellie? Are you there? Ellie! I need you! I try to gather all my strength, all my will, to merely open my eyes, move a finger, but nothing works, and the barest of efforts exhausts me. I slip away, back into the soothing, relaxing darkness.
“Dad?” A small voice rises from the darkness, and I feel myself chasing after it.
“Adam? Is that you?”
“Dad, what are you doing? You’re going to kill her, Dad. Please don’t do this!”
“Adam! Oh my God, Son, I haven’t heard your voice in so long. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t do it, Dad.”
“Adam? Where are you?”
“Please, Dad, don’t do this again.”
“Adam? Adam!” His voice fades away, but the other people move closer.
“How are his vital signs?” One of the doctors taps on the panel next to my bed that controls the monitor built into the bed. I’ve seen enough of the insides of hospitals to know that they monitor all of your vital signs without touching your body.
“Stable, for now, but there’s no telling how long that’ll last.”
“What should we do?”
The two voices pause. “Move up the transfer, like I said. We have to, otherwise he will die.”
“What about the Release Ceremony?”
“Skip it. He’s too weak. It’s unfortunate, but it can’t be helped.” I sense the two checking me over one final time. “It’s a pity,” the man says. “He’s done so much. To be brought down like this.”
“We’re not going to let him die,” the woman says. “Don’t talk like that. We’ll move the procedure up, the transfer will go smoothly, and everything will be fine. He just doesn’t have the six months he thought he did. That’s all.”
The other doctor sighs. “You’re right. It’ll all work out in the end.”
A minute later, their steps fade away, and I’m left alone with my thoughts again, slowly swirling into the blackness that is my mind, searching for my son’s voice, when hesitant, lighter footsteps enter the room.
“Socrates?” Mira whispers. “Are you in here?”
Yes, yes, my girl. I’m here, I say, in my head, of course, because nothing else works.
“I… I heard the doctors.” Her voice is apologetic, as if she feels guilty for something. “They said you don’t have much time left.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“This… this changes everything,” she murmurs, and I listen as she walks over to the chair on the other side of my bed and sits down. “I… I was going to back out.” Her voice is so low, so quiet, I almost miss it. She sniffles, and I imagine tears filling her eyes.
“I was going to ask you if I could back out, change my mind, and go home, even though I’d be banished. I…” Her voice cracks, and a sob breaks through. “I want to live. I don’t want to die. I… I even promised my brother that I’d go back for him. That I wouldn’t leave him again. I decided when I was at the farm that I wanted to get out, be free, let you find another Second. But… but now there’s no time, is there?” She trails off into silence and sits there, thinking. It goes on so long I almost forget her and fall away, deeper into myself.
“But I can’t be afraid.” Her words are stronger now, more assured, as if she’s made a decision. “There’s no one else who can do this. No one else who can take my place. I… I have to.”
No, you don’t! I try to shout, but once again, the words refuse to leave my parched lips. I’m trapped in my own body. You don’t have to do this, girl, you can still go home.
As if hearing my voice, she continues. “I can’t go home. If I’m the only person who can help you get that Act passed to free my brother and all the other Texans, then I’ll do it. I’m done being a coward. I’ll be your Second.”
We’re All Slaves Here
Mira
Numb, I wander around the Smith and eventually find myself at the pressure-locked entry to the gardens. Once inside, I make my way to the stream and sit down on the grass, putting my hands behind my head and watching the birds flap across the artificial sky. The early afternoon shadows are deep, and in the grass, little insects flit back and forth, reminding me of home. A bee buzzes near my hand, and I jerk my hand away. I know what I’ve got to do, but I can’t do it. I can’t say it. I’m too weak.
“They won’t hurt you.” Will’s deep rumbling voice comes from behind me.
I whirl around, startled. The quickest activity I’ve done since we returned to the Smith. Makes my head hurt.
Will smiles ruefully from where he’s leaning against the tall, paper-white skin of a birch tree. “They can’t. These bees don’t have stingers. They’ve been engineered to be harmless. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve had a pretty rough go of it the last couple days. I bet Socrates will be fine.”
“You don’t have to coddle me, Will. I’m not a child. I heard what the doctors said. Two weeks, tops. What I don’t get is how they couldn’t see it. How with all their advanced technology they couldn’t figure out his cancer was growing so fast, and now it’s in all of his major organs. Even his brain is getting screwed up. He may never wake up.”
Will closes his eyes. “I know. I’m just… I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that! Why does everyone keep apologizing to me!” I throw my hands up in disgust. Will puts his arms around me, impulsively, as if he can’t help it, and pulls me into a tight embrace. What am I going to do?
“Are you okay?” he murmurs into my hair.
I pull back and look up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The farm, what happened, it was pretty rough.”
I look away from him. “It’s fine.” I’m fine, right? Yeah, right.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” I try to pull free from his embrace, but he holds onto me.
“Did that guy bother you?”
“Who, Tanner?” I narrow my eyes at him.
Will’s eyes grow stormy, and I fight a grin. “Yeah, what did he want?”
Part of me wants to mess with him, play with his emotions, but I can’t. For some reason I feel as though I need to protect Tanner, protect what we had. “Nothing. He just wanted to see how I was doing.”
“Looked like it was more than that to me,” he grumbles. “Did he offer to help you escape?”
“Again?” I laugh. “How? He’s at the farm, Will. I’m here.”
“You never know. He’s a rebel. He has connections.”
I try to loosen his grip on me. “Sounds like you know something about that.”
As if I were on fire, he drops me and steps away, averting his eyes. “Never mind. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I turn away from him, weary of all the lies, the secrets, but also too tired to argue with him. I crouch down at the edge of the stream and pick up a smooth, flat rock and fling it at the water. It skips once, twice, three times before sinking.
“I don’t know how to do this.” He comes up behind me, so
close I can feel the heat of his body. After a few seconds, his arms loop around my waist, and I relax back into him.
“Then don’t.”
“I have to. If I don’t, everything will be for nothing.” I take a deep breath, fear warring with a calm understanding that this may be the right decision after all.
“Is that what you really believe?”
“Yes, no.” The merest whisper of the words leaves my lips, the opposite of my words when Socrates chose me, a lifetime ago. I step away from Will abruptly, bend over, pick up a whole handful of pebbles, and throw them all in the water, making a big splash. The stream turns cloudy before clearing again. Just like life. I’m a pebble in a fast moving stream, a cloudy ripple, then everything’s clear again, as if it never happened. I sit down on the bank.
Will nudges me over and then joins me. The heat from his leg burns through the material of my pants. For a few minutes, we watch a pair of yellow and black butterflies flitting from flower to flower on the opposite bank.
“I’ve always felt sorry for them,” Will says.
“Why?” The smaller of the two insects perches on a flower, while the larger one hovers around it, looking for a place to land.
“They live such short, pointless lives. In a brief time, they grow up, bring beauty to the world, then they disappear forever, and no one even remembers they existed in the first place. It’s like their lives don’t mean anything at all.”
“Kind of like mine?”
“That’s not what I meant.” He takes my hands in his. “You’re nothing like that, Mira.”
“I want to live.” I look away from him when tears burn my eyes. My hand goes to my mouth, as if to take the words back. “But this, this is the right thing to do. If Socrates can free us, how can I stand in his way?” I blink the tears away.
Will says nothing, just rubs slow circles on the back of my hands.
“I have to do this.” When he still says nothing, I glance up at him.
“But,” Will murmurs, and I can’t move, can’t look away from his chocolate-colored eyes filled with concern. Worry etches a slight wrinkle between his brows, and the familiar smile lines around his mouth are nearly invisible. He doesn’t say anything else, but it’s like that one word covers everything. There’s always a but.
I need to stand up, to move. I break free from his gaze, and once I’m on my feet, I hug my arms around my waist, holding myself together. “We should head back.” I laugh hollowly. “I’m just a wreck. I need to stop unloading everything on you. Stop talking about this. Grow up, and do the right thing for once.”
He stands up, takes my arm, and turns me gently, so that I’m facing him. “Mira,” he whispers. He bends his head, and his lips hover a breath above mine. His face is so close, not touching, but when I open my eyes, my eyelashes graze his cheek. I shiver, and finally his lips touch mine. Almost immediately, I realize this is nothing like the one-sided kisses I’d shared with Tanner. Nothing brotherly about Will, that’s for sure. This kiss is desperate, untamed, free and unexpected like the wilderness that surrounds the farm. A fleeting sense of guilt rushes through me, then disappears as Will presses his lips more firmly to mine.
His arms tighten around me, and I lean into him, winding my arms around his neck. I shiver as the kiss deepens. A rumble vibrates up from his chest, and I think I might have answered it with a groan of my own. I can’t think, only feel. What would it be like if I had a future? If Will and I could explore this, feel this? Would we stay in the Smith in a little apartment like the one I lived in at the farm? Would I get to banter with him every evening and wake up curled in his embrace?
No, I can’t do this. I push against his chest a little, feeling dizzy, as if I don’t remember who I am or how to breathe. Will sighs and rests his forehead against mine, keeping his arms looped around my waist.
“Will, what are we doing? We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For… this. I… we… shouldn’t have…” I just gesture at him.
“You’re right. You’d better get in there. We can’t do this again. I’m just a servant, and you’re… you’re not. If someone told, I could be killed.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re not just some servant.”
“You’re wrong, Mira. We’re all slaves here. Even your Socrates. None of us are free.”
For You Are With Me
Socrates
“Interesting weather we’re having,” the young blond-haired servant says as he wheels the cart into my hospital room. He’s got piercing green eyes that remind me of the mountains around my home after the summer rains have brought them back to life. My mind is groggy, full of clouds and thoughts that might have belonged to me, but are so old, I’m not sure anymore. Dancing children in white baptismal gowns grace my dreams along with raven-haired beauties and old men with pencil-thin white mustaches. At least the old men aren’t dancing.
“Yes, very,” I answer absently, yawn, then narrow my eyes at the boy as his words sink in. My mind, fuzzy, finds it hard to process his words, but I still find it odd. Servants don’t usually speak to Firsts.
He places the tray on my bed as it tilts automatically into a sitting position, sensing the presence of the tray. “I heard it’s going to be rather cloudy and stormy.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m really not that hungry.”
“Oh, I insist, sir. My supervisor just ordered a new brand of sweetener, from Scoffield, England, and he wants us to treat our esteemed dignitaries, like yourself, to it.”
Scoffield? Now where have I heard that name before?
“I’m sure it will taste lovely,” I say.
“Thank you, sir. We take great pride in making sure all of your needs are met.” That sounds strange, too. The boy is emphasizing the words, as if they have a greater meaning he wants to impart.
“I appreciate that.” I smile as he sets a deep burgundy cloth napkin next to me.
“As I understand it, you have a guest coming shortly. You may want to check your food first, to ensure it’s as you wish before he arrives.” He nods at the tray.
Hmmm, maybe he’s trying to tell me something. “Yes, I think that would be a wise decision.” He smiles, bows, and backs out of the room.
When I lift up the top of the tray, a small folded piece of paper sticks to the edge, and I peel it off carefully so it doesn’t rip. The paper is thin, translucent, and starts dissolving as soon as I pull it free.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
What does this mean? That I’m not alone? God, I hope not. No one should be alone in the end. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I need to make sure that, in the end, I’m not alone. In my head I see a little laughing boy in a baptismal gown, waving at his father. Are you still there, Adam? There’s no answer. Were you ever there? Was it all in my head?
So lost am I that I don’t even hear Ellie parade into my room as if she owns the place. “Don’t you even lock your doors anymore?”
“What the hell, Ellie? Is nothing sacred anymore?” I shove the note under my pillow, feeling it rip and wrinkle beneath my fingertips. “Can’t an old, dying man have some privacy?”
She strokes her close-cut beard absently, and I can feel her studying me. “Well, if you just stayed in bed and out of trouble, we wouldn’t be here, would we? Why didn’t you see your doctor when you started feeling worse?”
“He’d just drug me and try to move up the procedure. I’m too old for treatment, remember?”
“You’re a foolish old man, you know that? Besides, they’ve already moved it up.”
“I know. I heard them talking. The funny thing is, I’m still not ready. Mira’s not ready. The sands are at the bottom of the hourglass, and I still have a to-do l
ist half-filled.”
“You’re not making any sense.” She shakes her head and sits down next to my bed. “You’ve done this several times, and Mira… well, what does the girl have to get ready for? She’s going to die. A day, a week, a month, a year. Extra time isn’t going to help her with that. Is there anything else you’re not telling me? You’ve certainly been acting strange lately.”
“Everything is fine, Ellie, as fine as it can be.” I lean forward and lift the top off the food as if for the first time. I try to smile, but just a whiff of food brings on a harsh, barking cough that wracks my body. After fumbling in my pocket for a handkerchief, I grab my napkin and cough into it. When I pull it away, the dark red cloth is liberally spotted with dark red blood. I fold it up quickly and try to hide it, but I can’t fool Ellie.
She narrows her eyes. “That’s it. I’m calling a doctor.”
“No,” I murmur, then repeat it again louder when she acts as though she doesn’t hear me and starts to stand. “Please sit down. I’m dying, and nothing is going to change that. It’s painful, yes, but growing old always is. You know that.”
She shakes her head at me, an impossible, cranky old man. “True. We all die eventually.”
“Some more than once,” I quip, then chuckle. She doesn’t.
I drift off after she leaves, hearing Mira’s voice in my head as I sink back into the darkness.
My hope is that I’m the last kid who has to die so that your people can live forever. What if Mira’s right? How terrible it must be, always wondering if you’re going to be chosen, hoping you’ll be lucky enough to escape it, but wanting more than what you have at the farm. Wanting freedom, but never being able to obtain it, and peace, but that’s too elusive as well. I slowly drift off as the thrumming of the machines lulls me into a restless slumber. Maybe I’m not the only one who can do this. The only one who has the strength to stand up and fight for what he believes. What would the blowhards in Congress think if Mira stood up in front of them and argued for this bill? How would they react to her passion, her desire?
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