Vessel

by Lisa T. Cresswell

  The larger groups ahead of us turned down different hallways until we were the last ones left. The guide ushered us into a round room with a high-domed ceiling. Another hooded figure waited for us to enter, and then closed the door behind us with a heavy thud.

  “Welcome. Please stand around the platform,” said the figure as he pointed to a round, raised area in the center of the dark room. Lights like candles with no flame illuminated the floor.

  “Who are you?” asked one of my cohorts.

  “I am Master Bane, your teacher. I’m sure you have many questions. They’ll all be answered presently. Please pay attention.”

  His voice was warm and reassuring. I felt my innards unknot a bit listening to its singsong quality.

  “You are among the Reticents now. You’re safe.”

  I never would’ve put “Reticents” and “safe” in the same sentence.

  “If Mother Sun wills it, you may join us one day.”

  Join the Reticents? What nonsense is this? I’m not joining this crazy cult!

  “Observe.” Bane touched a panel on the wall, and the platform erupted in light. “The first of many lessons.”

  An unnatural blue light filled the room and shaped itself into three-dimensional images so real you could almost touch them, spheres floating in the air above us. A woman’s voice out of nowhere began to describe the spheres, one small and green, the other a fiery ball of orange.

  “Earth, our home as you know, is millions of years old,” the woman’s voice said. “Its star, known to you as Mother Sun, provides the necessary amount of heat and light to support life on Earth. This star consists of hot ionized gases, constantly exploding, releasing the heat and light on which we rely. The magnetic waves from the star collide with Earth’s magnetosphere, creating the phenomenon we know as Mother’s Love. It is not malevolent or benevolent. It just is.”

  I looked at the two boys next to me. They were staring, agape, at the images swirling before us as I did. The younger of the two, who was perhaps twelve years old, hugged himself tight. His face was a kaleidoscope of confusion, anger, and wonder. I’m sure he wanted to know about this magic and where it came from, fearing Mother’s wrath like we’d always been taught. The woman’s voice continued.

  “In 2112, the star entered an extremely active phase, emitting an unusual number of explosive bursts. The phenomenon known as Mother’s Love, or Aurora Borealis, is created when electrically charged particles from the sun collide with the gases in the Earth’s atmosphere. On April 18, 2112, the sun emitted an explosion so vast, the Earth was showered with energy.”

  The fiery ball floating above us churned and a fountain of flames shot out from its surface. Suddenly the image of the Earth became huge as we watched the wave of energy reach the planet.

  “At that time, the human population of the Earth was as plentiful as birds in the sky. They’d become so because of the technology they’d created.”

  The scene above us became a farm with miles of corn—more than any human could possibly plant. Wheeled machines plowed the dirt and planted seeds, and other machines watered the crops.

  “Their technology allowed them to grow vast fields of food. The efforts of one person fed thousands. Technology gave them the freedom to spend time doing things besides growing food. It kept them warm in the winter and cool in the summer.”

  The scene showed us elaborate homes, factories, and buildings so high they seemed to touch the clouds. And there were people everywhere, hundreds of millions of people.

  “Technology provided the means by which to communicate and travel great distances in a short time, to exchange and store information in great quantities.”

  I thought of Kinder. This is exactly what he wanted to know. But why were they telling us? The light showed us people using machines both big and small, doctors using machines, people traveling in machines, even machines that flew through the air. The boy next to me sat down. It was all too much.

  “They accumulated vast amounts of knowledge, recorded first in books but later in machines. As their natural resources were depleted, they recorded more and more in their machines. These machines were dependent on a power source called electricity, which could be generated in different ways, many of which were destructive to Earth’s environment.”

  The scene showed us acres of trees felled, giant holes gouged out of the earth, and thick black smoke in the sky.

  “Humans did their best to solve these problems with technology as well, but on April 18, 2112, all that changed. The solar superstorm wave washed over the planet, destroying 76.4 percent of all electronic equipment.”

  As we watched the scene, the machines stopped. Flying machines crashed. Lights all across the planet went out.

  “The remaining technology was unable to support the 76.4 percent of the planet without electricity, and humankind began to die. Most had no way to obtain food, no way to grow it, and no transportation to get it. Medicine could not be mass-produced, let alone distributed. Those who didn’t starve died of disease. It was a black time. The Dark Time. Wars over the remaining power broke out but were short-lived as people began to starve.”

  “In the Dark Time, much knowledge was lost, but there were those who knew our long-term survival depended upon saving what could be saved. The first Secret Keepers, the Reticents, were formed. Knowing the basic nature of humans was greed, they kept this knowledge hidden away deep within the Earth, protected from the sun and those that would abuse it. This is the charge of a Reticent, the guardian of knowledge and protector of truth.”

  The light suddenly faded and the room grew dark again. The kid on the floor shook his head.

  “Truth?” he muttered.

  It did seem like the opposite of truth. All we’d been told about Mother Sun, about technology being evil, was a lie. It wasn’t a shock to me really. Kinder had long suspected the Reticents were hiding something. I knew his tinkering had never incited the wrath of Mother Sun, but the kid on the floor had bought into the whole story. Tears shined on his cheeks.

  “But Mother Sun … ” he whispered. “How could they?”

  Our teacher, Bane, stepped forward.

  “You must trust that the first Reticents had their reasons. Don’t doubt that,” he said kindly to the boy on the floor whose head hung between his knees now. The boy didn’t respond.

  “Master Seck?” said Bane. The door opened again and our guide reappeared. “Master Seck, please take young Daniel to his room where he can rest a bit.”

  Seck bowed silently and walked over to the boy as Bane turned toward me and the other student.

  “Recks, Shim, please follow me,” he invited. Having little other choice, we did as he asked.

  I let Shim go first so I could watch him and Master Bane. I needed to collect my thoughts and study the passageways for an exit, although it seemed hopeless. The solid black walls went on forever.

  Shim was a tall and lanky red-haired kid. Maybe without knowing it, he hunched over the way big people often do to appear less imposing. He made a phlegmy sound to clear his throat.

  “May I ask a question?” he said to Master Bane.

  “Of course. You’re here to learn,” said Bane, but he didn’t slow his pace at all.

  “Why aren’t there windows?” Shim asked the question I was dying to know myself.

  “Very good, Shim. There are no windows because we’re underground, nearly half a mile underground in fact.”

  “How can that be?” I interrupted. “No one could ever move that much earth.”

  “The technologists could. This was once a mine.”

  “But why build all this underground?” asked Shim.

  “The reason is twofold. It provides the Reticents with the privacy they need and protects our technology from the sun’s more harmful rays.”

  Privacy? That’s a nice way to put it. They lock it all up and hide it away from everyone.

  Shim seemed as perturbed
as I did. He glanced over his shoulder at me, his green eyes locking on mine. I stared back to let him know I understood.

  “The sun still bombards us with energy more than any other time in the past, except for Reckoning Day of course. It is unclear why. Technology’s susceptible to that,” Bane continued.

  My mouth flew open before I thought. “It doesn’t work on the surface,” I said.

  Bane stopped and looked at me as if to memorize my face. With a nod, he acknowledged, “It doesn’t work outside these walls. Not reliably. But the Reticents are ever vigilant, always searching for new ways, better technology.” He resumed walking while he spoke to us.

  “We’ve been able to reconstruct simple engines we can use for farming outdoors that don’t require electronics. The building itself protects us from the sun’s radiation and magnetic waves. Inside Gora Compound, we’ve been able to generate electricity on a small scale and to reconstruct electronic computing systems. Outside Gora, people live as if it’s the twelfth century. We alone can safeguard the world’s data. One day we’ll find a way to bring it back into the light. Here we are,” said Bane, stopping by a set of double doors. Something about his smile wasn’t quite right to me. “I want to show you something. You’ll train here one day, but today we’ll just observe.”

  The doors opened at his touch, and the sounds of struggle spilled out into the hall. We stepped inside, joining several other red-cloaked figures observing the students in an arena below. The room was a mass of movement. Bare-chested men in red shorts battled each other one-on-one, some with short sticks, others with their hands, until a Reticent at the end of the room blew a whistle. All struggle ceased and everyone knelt on the floor, all eyes on the man with the whistle.

  “Obstacle course!” Everyone moved into silent lines along the walls as the center of the floor moved. As it split apart, machinery erupted from the gaps. The students shuffled with nervous energy while the room transformed. I realized for the first time that some of them were women. All of them had hair cut like the boys’ and most had well-developed muscles. The fear on their faces unsettled me. What was happening?

  I looked at Bane. His wrinkled face pulled back into a smile.

  “This will be good,” he whispered to me when he saw the question on my face.

  The machines unfolded to reveal an array of blades and spikes that rotated at various speeds, whirring with an unnatural sound.

  “Begin!”

  A familiar form stepped up—Tiber. He readied himself, seemed to gauge his timing, and then he sprinted through the machines, ducking and weaving, diving and rolling. Tiber made his way across the room easily.

  “Nicely done,” said the instructor. “Next!”

  A slim girl started through the course, so small she looked like a dark-haired boy of twelve or thirteen. Something in her movement was familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it until I saw the terrible scar down the right side of her face. She’s here!

  I gripped the railing to stop myself from jumping over it into the arena. I had to let her concentrate or she’d be slashed to pieces. She wasn’t as quick as Tiber, taking her time getting by each obstacle, but she was graceful like a cat. My chest ached as I remembered her curtain of black hair, how she must’ve cried when they cut it.

  “Faster!” the instructor shouted. Alana clutched the back of her neck as if injured, although she hadn’t been hit as far as I could tell. Strangely, I felt the pain in my own neck, and I heard Shim cry out softly too. Alana bent over but ran harder through the last obstacle. A blade struck her face and she recoiled, collapsing on the mat outside the course. Even from the balcony, I saw the blood on her cheek. It drove me crazy, and I forgot where I was.

  “Alana!” I yelled as I stepped up on the railing ready to jump. She looked up at me, and I knew it was her. A sharp pain like the stab of a dagger screamed in the back of my head and brought me to my knees. I saw Shim collapse beside me, and I heard Bane above me.

  “Such behavior will never do, Recks. I simply won’t tolerate it.”

  At least that’s what I think I heard before I passed out.

  When I awoke, the arena was gone. I sat upright in an armchair, plush with velvet. Shim sat in an identical chair next to me. I rubbed my aching skull.

  “What happened?” I groaned.

  “I don’t know,” said Shim. “This whole place is nuts.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened, Master Recks.” Master Bane’s voice came out of the darkness behind us. I looked around, but there was no one there, only shelves and shelves of books illuminated by a single, tiny light, like a lamp that glowed without fire, giving the room an eerie glow. Why would Reticents keep books?

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Where is of no concern to you. We’ve implanted a device in each student’s cranium that allows us to send signals to you collectively or individually. The signals may be in the form of discipline, which you experienced today, or in the form of information downloads. I’m speaking to you remotely via this device.”

  I dug at the back of my head with my fingers. A small lump, no bigger than a pea, rested under a tiny scar in the hollow at the base of my skull.

  “Order is of the utmost importance here, Recks. When one recruit acts out, all will suffer for it.”

  “That’s barbaric,” said Shim.

  “It’s effective. Most effective,” said Bane. “Recruits discipline each other for the good of the Order so we don’t have to.”

  Anger seized my thoughts, and I tensed my jaw.

  “Why? What’s the point of all this?” I demanded. “Why don’t you kill us and be done with it?”

  “We only execute heretics, Recks, those who’d steal our information and betray us. Our recruits are the best young minds we can find. We mean to cultivate that, not destroy it.”

  “Cultivate it for what?” I needled him.

  “To perpetuate the Order. Recruits train mentally and physically so that they may be ready one day to protect our way of life as the Elders have.”

  “And if a recruit doesn’t want to?”

  “That would be unfortunate. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” The tone in his voice was a clear threat.

  “But there’s no need to make your mind up now. You must become educated before you choose the right path. That’s what we’re here for,” he continued.

  I looked at the books around the room, feeling too weak to get up and open them. The chair sucked me down into its soft cushions the way his voice did.

  “I’ll teach you things you could never learn. How to read, write, create, invent, and experiment. Then you can make up your own mind, Recks.” I heard the smug smile in his voice.

  “Those things are forbidden,” said Shim.

  “Only for commoners. Not to us,” said Bane. Shim slumped in his chair too, struggling to absorb everything.

  “This will be your classroom. Young Daniel will join you as soon as he’s able. You will join the other recruits for meals and various activities, athletics, and such. You will soon learn the routine. Let us begin. Close your eyes,” said Bane’s voice in my head.

  Tired, my eyelids drooped and closed at the slightest suggestion. I wanted to imagine what Alana looked like now but another scene was broadcast in my mind. Master Bane stood before us in a now bright room, ready to teach.

  “Your classes will consist of a series of downloads via the device we’ve implanted in your head. This will allow you to experience the lessons in a much more interactive way and more quickly than I could speak them. It may seem a bit overwhelming at first, but you’ll soon acclimate to the method. Ready?”

  I involuntarily grasped the arms of my chair as the stream of data flowed into my head. It poured into me like water from a never-ending pitcher until I thought I’d drown. I heard Shim’s heavy breathing over my own and opened my eyes to look at him, but the data didn’t stop coming. It wasn’t that I saw it in my mind or even
heard it. I just suddenly knew things I never knew before, like what the sun was made of, the technical details of exactly how it ruined Earth’s technology, statistics of how many people starved, what diseases others died of, and how long it took the survivors to recover. I knew how the first Reticents found this place, knew it was a former molybdenum mine; I even knew molybdenum was a chemical element. But more than that, I knew the magnitude of what was lost, the terrible cost to humankind, and the terrible suffering the sun caused the world.

  Tears streamed down Shim’s face and my own. Finally, mercifully, the data stopped. I held my head in my hands, to keep it all in. I felt as if my head would explode and I’d die if I let go. Who knew this? Who could know this? Who could bear it? Kinder must know this. Where was he?

  Shim and I continued our downloads, at least two a day, sometimes more. Daniel never rejoined us, and I never knew what became of him. Mornings started with a simple meal of protein and carbohydrate before our work tending the agricultural fields, which took us back to the surface where the sun blinded us underground dwellers. It also served as our daily doses of vitamin D, which I now knew prevented rickets.

  I hadn’t seen Alana since that day in the arena. It seemed like weeks ago. I hoped they’d only moved her, not something worse. Did she even see me that day? Did she know it was me? I hated myself for exposing her. I should’ve kept quiet. I might’ve been able to get closer to her if only I’d kept my head. I’d seen immeasurable pain in the world, but to see hers had been unbearable. I didn’t know why.

  It got colder. The potato vines wilted in the frost, and the Masters directed us to dig up the tubers today. The Masters’ farm was several acres of vegetables and fruit trees. I didn’t see farm machinery anywhere, though. The downloads taught us we needed to learn the old ways of survival and never be reliant on machines for food. I suspected they wanted to keep the technology hidden as well. If the others knew …

  I always worked fields with the same group: Shim, Tiber, Stef, and Anne. Tiber barked orders at us, which we mostly ignored. I gazed at the woods while I dug the potato hills. I was pretty sure Tingrad lay just beyond them. Being on the surface always made me think about escape. It seemed my whole life had been about escape. Maybe it always would be.