by Nirina Stone
Then she sits in the tiny chair assigned to patients as she waits for him to analyze her.
He uses a flash syringe to pull four ounces of her blood, slots the tube into the analysis-bot and turns to her. “It will take a minute, likely less. Then you can head out of here. Just two more stops and you can go make yourself comfortable in the Red Dome.” Another smile.
These are the same words he’s said to the thirty one Blue Domers that came through before her.
So when the machine pings, he turns to see—red where it should be green.
Her eyes widen at the same time his do.
“Does that mean—” she says.
He nods. “I’m so sorry—”
She stands and looks towards the door, as if meaning to run out it but he knows she won’t. There are too many people in the way, too few escape hatches.
Still he braces himself, waiting for her to move.
Instead the door slides open again and two Red Domers walk through, dressed in the same stark white lab coat they all wear.
They stand beside the woman as tears well in her eyes, comprehension draping over her like a cloak. She moves away with them through the door, without another look back at Gideon.
He knows what’s next, or at least he’s heard of what happens next, but he doesn’t have time to regret it or overthink it, as the thirty-third Blue Domer walks through the open doors.
“HOW MANY DID YOU PROCESS?” Marlo asks.
Gideon sits in the scientist mess hall, contemplating life, when he looks up to Marlo’s smiling face. His colleague’s eyes are glassy, much like his, he imagines.
“A hundred and two,” Gideon replies. “That’s enough for me today. I’ll be in the control center this arvo.”
Marlo takes the seat beside him, looks around, and says, “She’s decided that the flu broke out because some people in the Blue have been breaking laws and getting away with them.”
Gideon doesn’t ask who ‘she’ is. Marlo is referring to the Great Leader herself, President Chamda. Democratically elected by the people of the Red Dome, and in power for another three years. Gideon didn’t vote for her. Luckily, votes are anonymous.
“So what has she decided?” he asks, knowing full well what’s coming next.
“Martial Law in Blue,” Marlo says. “And Red’s not far behind, I reckon. What do you think?”
“Sounds about right. We don’t want a repeat of—” Gideon doesn’t finish the sentence, though he was about to say “the Orange Dome.” Nobody speaks of the Orange, not if they know what’s good for them.
“I’ll be working on my next hundred this arvo,” Marlo says as his eyes glaze over. “Might as well get it over with—” Then he stands and walks away. His shoulders slump as he does, and Gideon fights off a shiver. Marlo’s a far stronger man than I, he thinks, as he cleans up his mess and drops the rest in the bin. He’s lost his appetite, but has heaps of work to do left.
On the way to Control, Gideon walks by The Lab—glass walls take up the entire southern corner of The Lab and he watches for a moment as one scientist walks across the way carrying a small glass container that holds a tiny red animal which resembles ancient rats from Earth. Marlo stands, watching them at work as he nods at Gideon. “Thought you were heading back?” Gideon says.
“I am,” Marlo returns. The tone in his voice stops Gideon from questioning him further.
They watch as the gloved scientist picks the rodent up gently and places it in a chamber. Though any noise from within is silent out here, he imagines it chitters and chats away, as all the others do. “They’re very social,” Marlo mutters, and Gideon knows he’s probably held one himself—it’s a well-known secret in ChemSoft. The scientists in the Lab don’t mind as long as they’re all cloaked and gloved when they touch the animals.
As the rat makes small turns in the glass enclosure, Gideon knows it’s about to fall asleep. “At least they’re humane about it, right?” he says to Marlo.
The man nods, then says, “What is it that they’re looking for anyway, with all this testing?”
Gideon shrugs his shoulders. “Something to do with how their lungs process the air out there, I guess. Trying to replicate it.”
Then he turns to Marlo, knowing that he’s pushing his luck. They’re not supposed to talk about their projects in too much detail, but he reckons Marlo seems in the mood to talk. “How is your program going, with the bots?”
Marlo’s chin pops up, a spark in his eyes. At least this is a far more interesting project than processing the flu-ridden. For a moment Gideon wonders if Marlo will put him in his place. Instead, the man says, “Think we’re getting close to full phase.”
The term doesn’t sound familiar but Gideon hesitates too long and the moment for a clarification passes.
“Don’t you think—” he says, “perhaps it’s not conducive to our existence, what you—what we’re doing here?”
Marlo’s expression darkens and Gideon knows he’s gone too far, wondering if he’ll be in trouble. Instead, Marlo says, “We don’t think, Doctor. We follow orders.” Catching the unusual formality from his friend, Gideon remembers they could be recorded from anywhere within the dome.
Then Marlo turns away again, his shoulders slumped lower than before. Isn’t that right, Gideon thinks, as he takes a long breath. He can’t imagine what’s come over him, asking questions like that, but if not today of all days, then when?
In the Control Center, Gideon busies himself to set up his program, the one for which he received an award years ago, for creating a solution that would help clean out city streets with little fuss.
His fingers maneuver across the massive screen as he adjusts temperatures and water flows in the Blue Dome, then he presses the three buttons that will start the nightly rains for the next few years.
His colleague Peterson peers over his shoulder. “Ah, your infamous acid rain,” Peterson says. “Bet you’ve been looking forward to the moment you could start them up.”
Gideon looks up. He hasn’t worked with Peterson that long, he’s wary. He remembers the last Christmas fiesta where this fellow was by President Chamda’s side, whispering sweet nothings into her ear all night long.
“Yes,” Gideon replies, knowing the answer is too curt, and expecting Peterson to walk away to take care of his own business. The business of programming bots so they hunt any left over Blue Domers who didn’t make the trip over to the Red Dome. There will be at least a couple hundred of them. He doesn’t know why so many, but can imagine why they’d rather stay and hide, fight. Live.
There’s a commotion behind him but he doesn’t react until Peterson stands and moves away from his console.
When Gideon swivels his chair, the first thing that comes to mind is, What is Marlo doing here? He’s supposed to be working in his office. His office being three floors down, just around the corner from Gideon’s.
The second thought, as two men in red suits drag him away, and blood streams down the right side of his head is, I’ll never see him again. Goodbye friend. Their final conversation runs through his head and he fights a dark cloud of guilt. Did my words trigger something in him that got him in trouble—?
Small cleaning bots roll out of the walls, quietly spray and mop up Marlo’s blood, and spin back into their compartments in the wall. Peterson makes his way back to his console and stares pointedly at Gideon. The latter finally swivels his chair back into place, not hearing a word Peterson says as his pulse pounds in his ears. He takes a deep breath in and lets it back out as quietly as he can.
The last thing he needs to do is let Peterson see that Marlo’s situation has affected him.
He gets back to work, determined not to be seen, determined to get home tonight, to his family.
GIDEON’S HOME IS STARK, clean, clutter-free, a perfect clone to the rest of the homes in the Red Dome. “Mess is for the idle, for the unambitious,” according to President Chamda’s rules. “Cleanliness is the first indicator of a civilize
d society.”
Of course she’s right, he thinks. Any speck of dirt or clutter is distracting. He finds himself unable to work in anything but a sparkling clean station. Besides, mess costs money. Though he’s got more than most, he needs every penny for his family, not for “dirt” taxes.
He thumbs the small disc he’s smuggled home from ChemSoft and looks his wife Terrion in the eyes. Her deep brown eyes match the color of her long hair perfectly. They sparkle as she tucks a wisp of hair behind her right ear. She never leaves the house without the tight bun updo as all other Allendian women, but this is his favorite version of her—contemplative, unstressed, relaxed. Not for long though, he sighs.
“It’s time to go,” he says. “Red Dome is no longer safe for us.”
“What happened?” Her eyes read the panic on his face, though they both remain calm for the sake of their pregnant teenage daughter.
“Martial Law in the Blue Dome,” he says. “Flu outbreak. Laws are strictly being enforced here, now. They took Marlo. We’re not safe.”
As he speaks, they move quickly throughout their apartment, stashing away food, water, his forbidden collection of cloakers and everything else they will need for the journey.
“But where do we go?” Terrion asks as he pulls the tiny disc out from inside his coat pocket. “Marlo would have been the one to trust. Who else is there?”
He considers his options, wonders if Marlo was already dead when they dragged him away or if he would be soon. Doesn’t want to think about his friend any longer, or how their options have narrowed down to—well—no one.
“We’re on our own,” he decides as he looks at the disc. Will he have time to reverse engineer the information he needs on this thing? He doesn’t have the time to worry about it now.
He pulls Terrion closer, kisses her on the forehead. “Things are about to get even more dangerous Thea,” he says. “Do you regret choosing me now?”
“Not in a million years,” she whispers as she holds him close. “I’ll travel through the stars with you.”
He remembers the words well. It was part of their vows, so many years ago.
He responds in kind. “I promise to forsake all others, all things, for you are my North Star.”
They embrace for several minutes, then she gently holds his shoulders in her hands and stares into his eyes.
“Now, what do we need to do? And where are we going?”
The way she looks at him, tears in her eyes as her hands shake in his, he thinks she already knows what he’s about to say as he replies, “The Blue Dome.”
Chapter One
Sidney
LEAVING THE CITY, LEAVING the Dome, finally, Sidney thinks as she follows Henry and Gideon back to the site of the latter’s home, now nothing more than a burning ember in the middle of the forest. She wonders just what they’d find in that smoldering pile. Still, her thoughts keep going back to Petra and their goodbyes and then the bot’s final dance as a stream of metallic silver ash rose to the sky and landed back at Sidney’s feet.
She wonders what the bot would say right now, knowing what their plans are. She watches the men’s backs and wonders if Petra would tell her to follow them, wonders if Petra would trust this strange little white-haired fellow though it seems clear Henry is willing to follow him out of the dome.
Sidney pulls her bag to her front as they travel. She does another mental outtake of the things in her bag and knows she must replenish her supplies soon. Now that she knows what the silver dust is made of, there’s no way she can collect any more of the stuff to make little sparkers. She doesn’t have any other option at the moment, but watching the men ahead of her, she hopes they won’t be necessary any way.
Nayne always taught her to have a plan and a plan ‘B’ and a plan ‘C’ though. So she’s more than happy to follow them out of the dome if necessary, but she also knows she can only rely on herself to get out of any danger they might encounter.
Besides, who was this Gideon fellow anyway, why does Henry trust him so easily, and what’s his whole deal with those weird twins that they’d come across, that tried to feed her and kill Petra?
“So you have a lair?” Henry says ahead of her as Gideon eyes him.
“Interesting choice of word,” Gideon says. “It’s my personal space, yes, where I keep all my supplies.”
“How long will it take us to travel to the Red Dome?” Henry says, as he slows his travel disc to line up with Sidney’s bike.
Gideon pauses. “It usually takes me the better half of two days,” he says as he looks back at Henry, then his eyes land on Sidney. “No saying how long it will take with a child in tow though. I’ll give it a week, maybe. We’ll have enough supplies in case of delays.”
Humpf, she thinks, but doesn’t object to him calling her a child. Some grownups are clueless, she’s learnt—but she’ll save her breath.
They arrive at the smoldering heap that was once the house where the twins had lived.
Finally, Sidney says, “Who are you? What were the twins to you?”
Henry frowns slightly but doesn’t say a word.
“They were my girls,” Gideon says, his voice low and angry. “My grandchildren.” He kneels down and touches a piece of burnt house with the tip of his finger. “They were my everything. So I guess there’s nothing left for me here.”
“How do you know so much about the Red Dome?” Henry asks as he watches him stand back up.
“I travel there a few times a year,” Gideon says. He looks like he’s about to say more but decides against it as his eyes land on Sidney again. “This trip will be an earlier trip than expected , I guess.”
He knows what it’s like outside the dome! The thought makes her heart race and a million questions run through her mind. She never thought she’d ever meet someone who knew Allenda better than Nayne. Here’s a fellow who knows the terrain outside the dome. An area that she's only ever imagined is flat, hard, red, and hot. Not a safe place for Allendians.
Sidney watches him, deciding that she trusts him enough. For now. If he’s been able to travel back and forth from the Red Dome, at the very least she’ll follow him until he gets her there. Nayne used to fill her head with stories about the Red Dome, to the point the place had an almost magical feel to it in her imagination. Even better than the Blue had ever been before the flu hit. “They have more food in the Red than they'd ever need,” Nayne had said. “Can you imagine, never being hungry again? No more thirst, ever?”
The trio walk through the rubble, avoiding any steaming bits, and Gideon finally stops at the northeast of where the home used to stand.
He takes out a tiny disc and places it on the ground in front of him. It shoots out a holographic picture of buttons. His hand floats over it and, as if he changes his mind, steps back to where Henry and Sidney stand.
“Strangers,” Gideon mutters. “I’ve never shown this to strangers before—”
He eyes Henry, as if seeing him for the first time. “What did you say you did, before all this went down?” They didn’t have much time to get acquainted before, what with the raiders about to throw them into a bonfire.
Gideon’s left arm rises to the air, indicating where the house used to stand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.
Chapter Two
Henry
GIDEON WAITS EXPECTANTLY and Henry realizes what he answers now could be a life or death moment. If he tells him he was once a raider, will Gideon go berserk and go on the attack? After all, it was raiders that hurt his granddaughters, raiders that took over his home, and raiders that ultimately caused the destruction of everything he’s built.
On the other hand, Henry trusts his instincts that truth is best with this strange little man. Henry eyes him, mulling over his options. Gideon appears strong enough, but, if needs be, Henry is certain he can outrun him. He hopes he won’t have to do anything more than run—like defend himself from an attack. If he does, he knows what he must do. Still he hopes it won’t come to that
.
So he tells Gideon the truth. “I was born North of here,” he starts, “in a large family. We were shunned for most of our lives but we were family. When I lost them—” not the time to get into too much detail, he thinks, “—I was taken in by raiders and brought up by them, but I promise you—”
He hurries through the rest of the story as Gideon’s face falls into a frown. “I promise you, I was never part of the group that did this. I never did anything like this or—purposely—hurt anyone in my years as a raider.”
When Gideon’s eyes shift to Sidney, Henry can tell he’s working through how this “raider” ended up with the girl, and the bot that just sacrificed itself to save her. Gideon’s a scientist, Henry thinks. He’ll probably have heaps of questions for them.
Instead, the old man runs a wrinkled hand through his stark white hair. Then he says, “Okay,” as if that was nearly enough of an explanation. He steps towards the disc again and his hand hovers over it until it pops up the image of a numbered screen in the air. He waves his fingers over the screen in such a way that Henry can’t tell what numbers were actually depressed, then he steps back again, further than where Henry and Sid stand. He says, “You might want to move back,” just as the ground beneath them shivers and a two meter portion of it slides down and to the right, making way for a hole leading far down into the earth via a small staircase.
Henry hears Sid’s sharp intake of breath and breathes out, realizing that he held his own this entire time. It’s his turn to doubt what they’re doing here. After all, they just met the man, and his granddaughters were bizarre too.
Do they trust him enough to follow him down into the dark earth, into who knows what?
When Henry doesn’t move right away, Sidney slightly pushes him on his lower back.
“What’s down there?” she asks him.
