As all of this is happening, a lithe figure on the opposite side of the atrium abruptly catches my eye. He emerges from a concealed door in the large space of wall between the East and West Quadrants, a door I’ve passed countless times but never been able to enter. It sits so perfectly flush to the wall, with no handle or keyhole to speak of, that even to pick the lock, wherever it may be, has always proven an impossibility. For that very reason, I’m incredibly intrigued by the scene playing out.
The figure, dressed in white like the rest of us, but a shade of white that’s been marred with brown by the grime of the tunnels, moves at a broken stumble along the wall of the atrium. His arms are nearly hidden from view, tucked into a roll of fabric that hangs from his neck as though to support them. I’ve seen this before, when a wrist is broken at the hands of an overzealous guard, but I don’t know that I have ever seen anyone in this bad of shape. Heads turn to follow his pitiable progress across the open floor, but no one raises an alarm. He could very well be one of us, or even a Neither, and it’s not like Optics to betray their allies in the city.
The figure finds his way to the South Quadrant opening just as a monorail pulls up to shuttle the lunching Optics back out to their Plenties’ homes, but he ignores it. My heart skips a beat in fear for him. Guards will be patrolling the quadrant tunnels between the atrium edge and the point where the Plenties’ homes begin. Optics aren’t explicitly prohibited from entering the area, but neither is it recommended and just to pass through is often sufficient to earn a beating that will leave you sore for a week.
Those are the stomping grounds of the guards, where they smoke strange sticks of burning paper, snack on their augmented rations and make bets on government elections. They don’t take kindly to visitors. As the figure disappears from my view, I add a small prayer for him to the empathetic thoughts circling around in my head.
Be brave, Henrick, and take care, whoever you are.
As the last few Optics begin to depart from their lunch break, I take to my feet as well. I want so desperately to hear from Henrick, to know that he’s safe and that Mack and Mr. Watson and the rest of the government have done him no harm, but I owe it to Ruth and James to be there for them on time. By the time I make it to the south monorail, I’ve given up any hope of seeing him before dinner.
Until an ecstatic voice suddenly calls out my name.
“Io! Wait up! Io!”
I search the crowd around me for the owner of the voice, unsure who in this city could be so thrilled to see me. The rush of faces pouring into the monorail, most silent and serious, still hungry even immediately after lunch, provides few clues, though I should think a smiling face would stand out brilliantly against such melancholy. I get swept into the monorail right along with them, and when a hand falls upon my shoulder, it startles me so much that I nearly knock over half of the other passengers.
Henrick. The voice was Henrick.
“I don’t understand,” I state bluntly. He laughs delightedly at my entirely serious statement and tries to drag me back off the monorail.
“Stop! What are you doing? Henrick!” With a final tug that forces me through the closing doors, we fall to the ground at the feet of a small group of Optics waiting for the next monorail, who now watch us in unfettered shock. I see a guard’s boots passing by from between their knees, and the group forms a tighter wall, hiding us from the guard’s view. Another example of the unspoken agreement: protect your own – no matter how strange they’re acting.
“What was that all about?” I demand as I stand up again, rubbing my bruised elbows. I’m completely over my previous concern now, reassured and then some by Henrick’s apparent euphoria. “And what are you so happy about?”
He catches his breath, eyes sparkling like a five-year-old Governor with a new toy, and declares, “I can’t tell you here. We have to take the next shuttle, last car.”
He lowers his voice so that only I can hear him. “I have some awesome news.”
I can’t help but absorb a bit of his joy. With so little lately to really rejoice about, I’m not about to turn down the opportunity to hear of something going well. After a quick survey for guards, Henrick links his arm in mine and the other Optics stare at us as we make for the atrium end of the platform. Everything they’ve seen of us today has been all over the place, one side of the emotional spectrum to the other, and I can’t blame them for watching us as though we are complete strangers. At this point, I’m even beginning to feel like a stranger in my own life.
When the monorail finally returns for the second round, Henrick forces me inside ahead of him and immediately twists around, jamming his fist against an emergency open button. A snap, and the door is released from its mechanical bondage, allowing us to subtly slide it closed. As soon as he releases the button, the door is bound again, locked to the outside world until we so choose to open it again. A few Optics still on the platform pound half-heartedly on the window and throw us dirty looks, but after just a few seconds they give up the fight. Thanks to our childhood trick, this monorail car just became our personal headquarters.
“Now will you please tell me what is going on?”
Henrick shakes his head, a glint of mystery in his eye. “We have to wait until it starts moving, so they can’t hear us.”
“So who can’t hear us? Henrick, we’re the only ones in here. If you don’t tell me right now, I’m getting up and going to another car,” I threaten, expecting him to laugh in my face.
His jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”
I shake my head in agreement. “Probably not. But really, you need to talk.”
Much to my chagrin, he waits a few more seconds as the monorail hums to life and commences its slow journey through the tunnel, before beginning in a harsh whisper, “Okay. So, you know how Mr. Watson wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes, and you thought he was going to kill you.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He brushes off my remark, eyes bright with excitement. “That’s not important. What he told me is that he’s been examining these old government records, some documents they uncovered from twenty years ago written by a man named William Abbott…”
He stops, eager, apparently, for my reaction.
“Okay…” I begin, waiting for him to finish his dramatic pause.
He takes a deep breath, then dives right in, a slurry of words racing the monorail to our stop. “So, this Abbott guy, he was pretty high up in the government. Like, maybe third or fourth to the president, and he had a family. A wife and two daughters. Got it?”
I nod, slowly and deliberately.
“Good. So, the thing is, these two daughters were, like, complete opposites. The older one loved everything to do with the government, all the benefits, the extra food, living in the Governors’ City. She was really intelligent, too, and beautiful, and everyone loved her. Everyone. At least, all of the Governors. They thought she was going to be the vice president someday. Her name was Heather. Are you even paying attention?”
Henrick snaps his fingers in my face and I jump to attention. “What? Yes!”
“You weren’t even looking at me!”
“I’m sorry. I was listening, I promise.” And I’m not lying. Maybe tired from the time spent staring out at the atrium from the 22nd floor, my eyes keep drifting to the right, following the doors and stationed guards as they pass lazily by outside the window behind Henrick.
“Fine. So anyway, the second daughter, the younger one, was the exact opposite of her sister. Her name was Lilly, and she hated everything to do with the government. She loved to serve, not be served, and she found the Governors too pompous and arrogant. She wanted to be with humble people, people who had to work for everything they got, so she befriended the Neithers and snuck away almost every night to visit them. One day, one of her Neither friends, a man named Jonah, became sick, and she wanted to take care of him. She knew he would never get better in the tunnels, so she brought him up to the city. In the middle of the night, she sn
uck him into her room and made a bed for him in the closet. He was hidden there for two weeks before the worst happened.”
“What?” I whisper interestedly, half to prove my attention and half because, in the hushed but melodic tones his voice has assumed, he really is making the tale a riveting one.
“Heather discovered him. She heard him coughing in the middle of the night, and she crept into her sister’s room to see who it was. When she opened the closet door and realized there was a person there, she was going to scream and raise the alarm, but Lilly stopped her.”
“How did she stop her?” I ask, leaning in despite myself to better hear his muted words.
“She turned on the lights.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Hang on! I’m getting to that part. Lilly turned on the lights, and Heather finally saw the face of the man in the closet. She didn’t scream, or move or say anything at all. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because she fell in love.”
I sit back against the window behind me, the atmosphere abruptly shattered. “You’re kidding, right?”
“What?” he asks defensively.
“They fell in love?”
“Yes!”
“That – that doesn’t happen. That’s not a thing. People don’t just see someone and fall in love.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Just because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Io, it’s a story. I wasn’t there. I’m just retelling it. Just let me finish, okay? I’m getting to the important part soon.”
“Fine,” I agree, regretting my reaction now that I see how much it has frustrated him.
“So they fell in love…” He pauses warily, as though expecting me to interrupt again. I wave him halfheartedly on. “They fell in love, and with both the sisters in on it, it was a lot easier to hide Jonah. Once he got better, he returned to the tunnels, but then Heather went to visit him almost every night. After about three months, she came to Lilly, crying hysterically. Guess what happened.”
“What?”
“Guess!”
I humor him. “Um, I don’t know. She got pregnant?”
“Yup.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. So Heather was pregnant with Jonah’s child. Can you imagine? A Governor with a Neither? It’s the ultimate scandal.”
I nod in agreement, wrapped up in his words against all better judgment. “So what happened?”
“Well, naturally, after a few more months, she began getting bigger, and since she didn’t have a husband or any boyfriend that they knew of, her parents got suspicious. They wouldn’t let her leave the house, for fear of someone discovering what had happened, but they weren’t willing to accept not knowing who the father was either. When she was eight months pregnant, they finally got the truth out of her – including the part about Lilly being the one who snuck Jonah in. William Abbott was furious, partially because of the scandal itself, but even more because he knew it would ruin Heather’s reputation and her chance at political success. And he blamed it all on Lilly for bringing Jonah up to their house in the first place.
“When the child was born, a few spying neighbors heard him crying and came over to investigate. To protect Heather, William told everyone that the child was Lilly’s and that she was in a relationship with a Neither. This infuriated the more conservative of the Governors, and they demanded that the child be killed for the breach of standards that had been committed. Heather was terrified for her baby’s life and she begged Lilly in secret not to allow him to be harmed, but to instead leave the infant outside an Optic’s dormitory, to allow him to be adopted into the system as an orphan. She thought that was the best chance the child had. Lilly, who was also protective of him, agreed and did as she was told. When the neighbors realized what had happened, they wanted Lilly to be killed instead, but she fled to the tunnels to live with the Neithers and was never heard from again.”
The monorail is getting closer to the stop, but I want to hear the end of it. “What happened to the child?”
“Another orphan numbered into the system like the rest.”
I pause for a moment, considering the story. “Wait, so Mr. Watson wanted to talk to you to tell you this? This story is why you’re so happy?”
“No.” His voice shakes a little, and suddenly a rim of tears forms in his eyes, glinting in the bright white lights of the monorail and catching me entirely off guard. Something much, much deeper is going on here.
“No, Io. He wanted to talk to me so he could tell me...” He pauses again, finding his words among abrupt emotions. “So he could tell me that I’m the child.”
As much as my eyes drifted before, I can’t look away from him now. Time has slowed almost to a stop. I can’t move or speak, only stare at the few tears that still glisten at the corners of his eyes, beginning to dry up now that the words have been spoken. Only my heart, beating steadily in my ears, reminds me that any time is passing at all. I’m having trouble comprehending what he’s saying, but some part of my mind is beginning to make sense of it all, and that part is not particularly thrilled about the conclusions it has come to.
“Io, Heather is my mother, and even though the conservative Governors tried to have me killed, government law still says…it still says that I have the rights of a Governor, too.” He finishes with a mix of relief and reluctance, pleased that he’s finally shared the news, but fearful of the judgment I may now pass upon him.
My eyes turn once again out the window, and only a scene unfolding on the platform outside snaps me out of my half-consciousness. The figure from the atrium – I recognize him from the discoloring of his clothing – sits against the wall between two doors, weak and barely conscious. Even as I look on, a guard approaches, yelling at him to get up with a few accompanying kicks meant to serve as extra encouragement. The young man – or maybe even a boy – trembles at each blow, but accepts them. He doesn’t seem to have the strength to defend himself anyway. In the background, I hear Henrick still addressing me.
“Anyway, Io. I promise you this isn’t going to change anything. I’m still me, and they’re going to give me a choice. If I want to stay an Optic, I can, at least for a while.”
Now the guard is angry, choosing to take the young man’s immobility as a sign of rebellion, not weakness. He puts more strength into the force of his blows, each pound of the plastic club drawing more blood, each kick sending the poor thing sprawling in a new direction. The monorail is still passing, yet to stop, but I can’t take my eyes off of the boy and the guard. In the last second before they leave my range of vision, the boy glances up toward the window. His eyes meet mine, and I shudder, a few tears clouding my vision. His eyes are pink. The guard is beating a Plenty.
“I’m sorry, Io. I know this is probably hard for you to hear,” Henrick continues, but he notices my eyes wandering across the window pane and turns to see for himself. The young man and the guard are already out of view and he shrugs, certain now that it’s astonishment at his revelation that has left me in this state.
“Just think about how much good will come of it.” A small, hopeful smile turns up the corners of his lips. “Maybe I can even get more information about the food and the curfews.”
He whispers in my ear, “I can be the insider. We won’t need to spy on them anymore.”
Two immensely significant situations are both calling for my full attention, and, struck with an inability to rule out one or the other, I am inadvertently ruling out both. I stand and disembark when the monorail finally stops, but it’s only the flow of the people on the platform that keeps me moving. I can’t seem to get out of my own head.
“Io!” Henrick grabs my shoulders to stop me in the middle of the crowd. He studies my face, eyes hard and jaw set, and mutters, half under his breath, “I don’t get it. Why are you so…glum? I thought you’d be happy.
This could solve so many of our problems!”
“I – I’m sorry,” I stammer, but my eyes simultaneously find their way back in the direction I last saw the young man. Though I swear to myself it’s involuntary, an inescapable drive to protect an innocent person, that doesn’t mean it escapes Henrick’s notice.
Openly frustrated, he turns and backs me against the wall by my shoulders. He leans over me to block my view and puts his face right in mine. His proximity wouldn’t bother me – we’ve been friends our whole lives – if not for the anger I can practically hear coursing through his veins. Something makes me uneasy about seeing Henrick this furious. It’s like he could snap at any moment, with me stuck right here in front of him.
“Just listen to me for a minute, Io. Please,” he finishes desperately, backing off now that we’ve made eye contact once again.
I nod wearily and fight off an onset of unwanted tears and a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired today. Maybe you could tell me more about it later tonight, or tomorrow morning?”
Henrick accepts my explanation much more readily than I would have expected. Maybe he can see the tears in my eyes. He takes a few breaths, still standing before me, and when he speaks again his voice has gone gentler and softer than I’ve ever heard it before.
“Just one more thing, before I go. See, the thing is, there are certain privileges that come with being a Governor. You have the ability to raise another person’s status a bit, given the right conditions and…and relationship. Do you know what that means, Io? You don’t have to be an Optic forever. If you ever got, you know, bored, or tired of working, you and I could, well…I could make you a Governor, too,” he finishes hopefully, maybe expecting some dynamic profession of gratitude on my part, but my mind is still not entirely with my body. He seems to perceive my passivity as exhaustion and quickly bids me goodbye.
Be Thou My Vision (The Population Series) Page 6
