by JN Chaney
But he didn’t feel like going today. In fact, all he wanted to do was lay in his bed, close his eyes, and sleep. “I don’t feel good,” he said. “But you go ahead.”
John left and Terry went to his own room. As he lay there in his bunk, he couldn’t help but remember the incident with Nick, but tried his best to focus on something else. He imagined himself in the arena, holding the rifle and trying to win. He thought up strategies and acted them out again and again.
Then, he pictured himself on the surface, standing next to his friends. He wondered what kind of dangers he’d face there, what sort of wonders he’d see. Would there be animals? What if they were scary? He wondered what he’d do if one of them provoked him. Would he fight back? What if he had to shoot one of them?
An image of Alex flashed before him, and ashamed, he pushed it aside.
As he drifted off to sleep, another question lingered, and for hours it circled in his mind like water in a drain, following him into his dreams, becoming a part of him. In the night he awoke, cold and hot and wet, and there the question stood, tapping at his brain. Would I kill to save myself? He trembled at the thought.
Terry hoped he’d never have to know.
*******
May 06, 2346
Housing District 01
Standing outside Ava Long’s home turned Mara’s stomach. When she first brought up the idea of approaching her mentor to Ross, it sounded like a good one. The closer she got to the door, however, the more she second guessed herself. After all, Ava had left her in charge of the motherhood, given her more responsibility than any other woman in the history of the city. And what had she done with it? Practically given it away, like an antique rug, torn and unwanted. What would the first matron say to her after hearing this? How ashamed would Ava be?
But she had come too far to go back now.
Captain Avery Ross stood beside her, patiently waiting, rarely speaking. Ever the soldier. She wore civilian clothes today, a similar set to the outfit she had worn last week at the train station. Today, however, she looked even more inconspicuous. Her shirt and pants were two sizes larger than they needed to be, masking her athletic frame. She wore a pair of glasses, seemingly fake, and her hair draped neatly around her neck and ears, encasing her smile—a rare sight, normally, but a welcome change. If anyone saw her today, they might think she was a scientist or a shy intellectual, her nose stuck in a book. Mara found a shred of amusement in the physical transformation her friend had undergone, and in fact, she liked her more this way.
Mara swallowed the lump in her throat, then pressed her finger to the digital screen on the door. A series of chimes echoed from the other side, followed by a woman’s voice. “Coming,” she called.
Ava Long opened the door and smiled instantly. “Oh, my goodness, if it isn’t my favorite daughter.”
Mara returned the smile. “Matron,” she said, nodding.
“Addressing yourself?” asked Ava. “I’ll have you know I’m a regular citizen now, young lady.”
“Nonsense,” said Mara, defiantly. “You’re still my matron.”
Ava laughed. “And who’s this?” she asked, looking at Ross.
“A friend. Avery Ross.” Mara said.
“Oh, my. Yes, I know Captain Ross,” she said.
Ross nodded and put out her hand. “Matron Long,” she said.
“Honey, you put that hand away and give me a hug.”
Ross blushed but did as Ava instructed. They embraced, Ava patting her back. “I didn’t know if you’d remember me,” muttered Ross, grinning.
“How could I forget about my little pioneer?” asked Ava.
Ross nodded. “You’re too kind, ma’am.”
“Is it alright if we come in?” asked Mara. She didn’t want to interrupt, but someone might take notice if they lingered outside too long.
Ava’s smile faded. “You sound serious. Is everything okay?”
“I’ll explain in a moment, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, of course,” said Ava. She moved aside and let them in.
Ava’s apartment always smelled so lovely, a constant stir of freesia, citrus and hazelnut in the air. This was a result of her frequent visits to the farms, where she would accept donations of food and flowers from the local workers, who never denied her. She did this so that she could put together gifts for those she felt needed them, particularly new mothers who were just starting out. During her time as the matron, Ava had taken to visiting each new mother’s apartment, greeting each with a basket full of gifts and a warm, wrinkled smile. She had done the same for others in the city, particularly those who had fallen on hard times, but the bulk of her hobby was aimed toward the motherhood, where her heart still lay. Looking around the apartment now, catching glances of half completed baskets, it became clear that Ava’s humble hobby had finally become a fulltime job.
“Sorry for the mess,” said Ava. She began clearing off the dining room table, which was covered in translucent cello wrap and two half-finished baskets. “Please, take a seat. Would either of you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” said Mara.
“Suit yourself,” said Ava, gleefully, then poured herself some Earl Grey tea. “I prefer a touch of honey. Otherwise, it’s bland.” She took a seat across from Mara and Ross, sipped lightly from her cup, and smiled. “Now, what’s got you all riled up this morning?”
“Colonel Bishop,” said Mara, getting straight to the point. “He’s trying to push me out of the council and block my access to the program.”
“How’s that, exactly?” asked Ava.
“It happened as soon as you left office. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was only an adjustment period. You know, growing pains. I didn’t think he was serious about cutting me out the way he has. Looks like I was wrong.” She went on to describe the leaked information she received, but kept Ross’s name out of it and also omitted her face to face with Bishop. Ava seemed to listen attentively to every word Mara spoke, never looking away, but she also didn’t act very shocked by it, either.
Ava didn’t respond immediately to the information dump. Instead, she continued to sip more of her tea, quietly staring into the cup. “I assume you’re retaliating,” she finally said.
“Retaliate?” asked Mara. “I don’t know what you mean. I was hoping you’d step in, maybe show your support.”
“Oh, of course you have my full support, dear, but you need more than the kind words of an old woman on your side.”
“If your voice isn’t enough, then what is?”
“You need to show your strength,” said Ava. “It’s the only thing boys like Bishop understand.”
Mara hadn’t expected this kind of talk from the former headmistress, but, then again, this was the woman who manipulated General Stone into restructuring the government. There were obviously sides to Ava Long that she had yet to see. “All this talk of strength,” she said. “You act as though I’m sitting on an army, ready to conquer. I’m just the matron, nothing more, a glorified mother playing politician.”
“You’re wrong,” said Ross. Her voice hit Mara unexpectantly. “The matron’s influence spreads all throughout the motherhood and even to the other branches.”
“But they have weapons,” said Mara. “Guns and armor and gas to shut us down.”
Ava shook her head. “You’ve already convinced yourself that you’ll lose.”
“I don’t know what a band of mothers can do against the military,” said Mara.
Ava paused, then placed her cup on the table. She took a napkin and dabbed her lips and fingers, then folded it and placed it next to the cup. Ava did all of this in silence and in no particular hurry. When she finally did speak, the room had fallen into a full and rigid silence.
“I’m going to tell you a secret today,” said Ava, quite seriously. “I want you to memorize it and I want you to believe it, not because I told it to you but because it i
s the truth. Everyone seems to think power comes from a weapon, from something you can hold in your hands and aim at someone’s skull. A bully picks up a stick in the schoolyard and makes a threat, and see how he is rewarded. The weaker children obey, not out of love, but fear. This practice doesn’t change when we grow older. The only thing that changes is the stick becomes a bomb, and the bully wears a uniform and calls himself a king.”
Mara leaned in, listening.
“Before the old world died, if the government threatened to take what you had, there was nothing you could do, because they had all the soldiers, all the weapons, all the bombs. The nation with the biggest guns could kill the rest of us with the press of a button, and often they would threaten to do just that. Nothing could be said for the woman in her home, holding a crying child in her shaking hands, praying to God to save her from the bombs flying overhead. Nothing but the word of a tyrant king, sitting high atop the dead-built throne, praising the works that were made in his name.” Ava stared hard into Mara’s eyes. “That’s the illusion they preach, the trick you end up believing is real. They tell you true power is dictated by the dictator, because he lives in the ivory tower with his finger on the trigger, but the secret they keep, the part they refuse to tell you during your adolescent indoctrination…is that none of that is true. Real power isn’t dealt in bullets, darlings, but in words. Words that stir a man to stand when all the rest have fled…to fight unwinnable wars, all for the sake of a thought. Every leader who made a difference didn’t do it with a sword or a gun, but with a voice that might have moved a mountain. Think of all the revolutions, all the great religions whose followers once numbered in the billions, and understand me when I tell you: they started with a few delusional fools, conspiring in a room.”
Mara was afraid to answer. The idea that she could ever hold the kind of influence that Ava was suggesting had never occurred to her before. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“I don’t mean to suggest you preach a call to arms against the good colonel,” said Ava. “But there are peaceful ways to protest, and history has shown them to be just as effective.”
Ross’s eyes lit up at the sound of this. “You’re saying we should go public. Tell the city what’s really going on. Get them on our side.” She paused, then looked at Mara. “This could work, ma’am. With half the city against the colonel, he’d have no choice but to bring you back in or risk impeachment. The courts might be slow, but they’d snap to it in a hurry if the public’s eye was on them.”
A swell of tension filled Mara’s throat, but she swallowed it and took a breath. The whole thing sounded crazy, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. She had tried, after all, to appeal to Bishop on a professional level, pleading for him to adhere to the established policy rather than his own egotistical ambition. But what good had it done? Where was she now, but in the corner of a room, questioning herself? “Ava, the things you’re talking about…what makes you think we can do that?”
Ava thought for a moment, then quietly stood and walked to the baskets she’d moved from the table when Mara first entered. Gently, she brushed the cuff of her finger against the petals of one of the freesia flowers. Taking it in her hand, she gave it to Mara. “Smell that,” she said.
Mara did. “It’s very nice,” she said, truthfully, though she didn’t see the point.
“Do you know how difficult it is to grow flowers in the gardens?” asked Ava. “Aside from the fact that they require space, artificial lighting, and regulated temperature, the science division claims it’s a bad investment because of the water it takes to produce them. ‘They contribute little to the sustainment of the city’s population,’ I was told.” Ava sat back down. Mara returned the flower, which Ava accepted. She twirled it in her hand, watching it, almost gleefully. “They don’t see the point in them. I suppose from a purely logical perspective, they’re right. But human beings aren’t logical creatures, are they? On the contrary, we require emotional stimulation. We require inspiration. A sense of comfort. That’s what these flowers do. That’s their purpose.” She tossed the blossom on the table. “Never mind that if we didn’t grow them, they’d go extinct. But now look at how they’ve flourished, going out to homes all over the city.”
Mara couldn’t argue with her. Ava’s flowers were everywhere. There were several gardens now in the plazas downtown, lining the shop corners, adding a bit of violet into an otherwise dull world.
“You might think I did all this out of the goodness of my little heart, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth. The reality is I needed public opinion on my side. I needed people to like me. It’s easy to get elected or appointed if you understand the way the ladder works, darlings, but staying in power is the tricky part. You need more than a title and a pretty face for that. But you can’t do it with fear or violence, because in the end you’ll only lose. You have to do it with love. Show them you’re a saint. Make them believe you care, and then prove you actually do. That’s how you win the long hand. That’s how you beat the other bastards down.”
*******
October 02, 2347
Maternity District
Mara sat in the mother’s lounge next to Ava, patiently waiting for the rest of the mothers to take their seats. Today she would finally speak publically about the rumors regarding the children—gossip she and Ava had quietly spread themselves. In the months since their initial meeting, both Mara and Ava had addressed these rumors, clarifying and reinforcing them with evidence and leaked information. The uproar at this had slowly grown to the point where it had reached the other branches. In response to it, Bishop had sent a representative to Mara, requesting that she put an end to whatever she was trying to prove. This representative had been, thankfully, Avery Ross, much to Mara’s amusement.
Ross, of course, couldn’t be in attendance, lest her superiors discover the truth about her treasonous activities. The subterfuge was why she and Mara had agreed Ross should remain as far away from here as possible. No doubt she was sitting in Bishop’s office right now, unnecessarily going over matters that probably could have waited until tomorrow.
In the meantime, Mara would do what she came here to do. She would tell these women the truth, and watch as Bishop’s propaganda came undone.
“Are you ready?” whispered Ava. “It looks like most of us are here.”
Mara felt a crawl in her stomach. It had been a while since she had butterflies. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“You seem jittery,” said Ava.
Mara hesitated. “Maybe a bit.”
“Been there,” admitted Ava. “But you can do this. It’s no different from all the other times.”
The double doors in the back of the auditorium closed, sending a hard echo through the room. Mara got to her feet and the swell of open chatter from among the audience came to an end. Their eyes were now transfixed upon the matron, on Mara.
“Good morning,” she said to the crowd. “I’m sorry we have to meet under such irregular terms, ladies, but as many of you are already aware, and as I’m sure most will certainly agree, there is a very good reason for it. Several months ago, information leaked from Central about the treatment of several of our children. These documents, which I myself received and evaluated, detailed several mortifying incidents in which children were either killed or, at the very least, grossly mistreated.”
The crowd stirred loudly. This was the first time some had heard the news. “Please, settle down,” Mara said, raising her hand to quiet the noise. Once the chatter had subsided to a reasonable level, she continued. “I sent a request to Colonel Bishop, asking for more information on these matters but was told to mind my own business. Whenever I showed up or demanded a meeting, I was turned away, dismissed outright. Since then, both the military and the science division have held secret meetings in which the motherhood is not permitted. This is a direct attack on our rights and on the Stone Charter. More than that, however, it is an attack on our children and our very
way of life. We cannot stand idly by while the rights we fought so long to have are slowly taken away from us.” She slammed her fist on the podium. “We are the caretakers. We are the protectors. It is our job…our privilege…to safeguard the lives of our children.”
The crowd cheered at the sound of Mara’s words. She waited a moment for the noise to settle, then went on. “We must take a stand today,” she said, speaking louder than before. “I hereby demand the immediate resignation of both Colonel James Bishop and Doctor William Archer by the courts of our fair city.”
More cheering.
“Until these demands are met,” she said, “the motherhood will no longer contribute new students to the academy, nor will any new contracts be taken. We do this to secure the lives and dignity of all those who follow hereafter. We do this for ourselves, because it is the right and moral action.”
“No more sacrifices!” screamed a girl from the crowd.
“No more dead babies!” said another.
Most of the women stood, their fists raised, screaming violently for action. Mara’s words had stirred hysteria, but it was exactly the kind of outrage that she and her fellow conspirators wanted. After she officially released the leaked documents, the wildfire of outcry would only grow. It wouldn’t take long before the courts decided they had no other choice but to act, and with so much proof on the table, their victory was all but assured.
Chapter 11
Amber Project File Logs
Play Audio File 1327
To: John_Constein@Amber_security
From: Charles_Armstrong@Amber_security
December 29, 2346
ARMSTRONG: Sir, the following message was received twelve minutes ago at approximately 0220 from the installation’s automated security system.
WARNING. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS AT SECURITY POINT 0827. PLEASE ENTER AUTHORIZATION NUMBER TO DISPATCH SECURITY FORCES TO DESIGNATED AREA.
