by P. K. Tyler
My body, however, evolved and advanced beyond her original human form. I was a half meter taller than she was. My extremities and torso elongated to keep proportion with my height. My lung capacity was much greater than her original pair. My neck was longer, my eyes much larger. Amari possessed genes that were ideal for such an advanced step in human evolution. And so she was chosen, as were tens of thousands of others. The human race rallied the best of the gene pool onto one ship and sent us hurtling toward the nearest Earth-like planet to continue their legacy. The Blessed Bequests, they called us. We were the next leap for humankind. We were the great hope to seed a new planet in the Pleiades star system, hundreds of light-years away from our old home.
The Guides tell me she had a runner’s lean build, but I’ve never run before. Never truly run like the humans did on Earth. People ran through parks and forests, through endless, beautiful scenes of nature. My running feet have only tread across exercise belts or the hard steel and polymer plastic surfaces of our mothership, The Halcyon. Amari Dawar knew what it was like to run on earth and grass.
“Steam,” I commanded.
The gentle rush of water in the hot pipes filled the empty room. Steam billowed in from the floor and swirled up around me. The tingling warmth made my skin prickle awake. I peered through the warm air as it condensed across the glass. My reflection softened. I wrinkled my wide nose, hers wrinkled too. Her shoulder muscles tensed the longer I stared at this foreign reflection. I rested a hand on the cold glass of the mirror in front of me. My lips move.
“I am not Amari Dawar,” her voice says. It was Amari’s vocal chords that I heard, but it was my essence, my breath that made those words true.
I reached for the loofah sponge and began my morning cleansing regimen. The steam felt good in my lungs. My body was more acclimated to our new home than the generations before me. The planet’s atmosphere was much denser in hydrogen than oxygen. I felt my diaphragm stretch into the pit of my torso. Angling my head back, I exhaled, letting go of the night’s endless memories and emotions. I loosened my grip on Amari, Thana, Samidha and every other branch of my genetically modified family tree. They were all gone. There was no one left to hold on to.
I brought the loofah to my shoulder and scrubbed at my balmy skin. Amari was not the life that resided in this doppelganger. I was the life inside these genes. It was my spirit wearing her skin. The emotion from my dreams began to fade. I felt more in control of my day.
“Shower.”
Warm water spilled over my shoulders and down the curve of my spine. Rolling my head caused muffled snaps and pops of bones finding their placement again. I spread my arms wide and leaned back to feel the drops splash across my face and bare chest. I tensed my muscles and stretched my fingertips as far as they would reach. I felt strong in this body. I felt in control of this body. I had nothing to fear wearing this skin. My mind, however, terrified me. For as much as she selfishly invaded my memories and slowly consumed my consciousness, I still was not Amari Dawar.
* * *
It was nearly time for the morning Chimes to call everyone to communal breakfast. Small cleaning droids whirred down the walkway. A few Guides glided among the white halls, preparing for the morning. Light gray robes flowed heavily around them, their oxygen regulators glowing soft violet under their chins. Our wing of the ship was suited for our lungs. With the air much denser in hydrogen and without their respirators, the human Guides would pass out and die.
They were humble cousins entrusted to care for a bequest’s every need. Their life cycles were normal in every way ours was not. They ate what they wanted; they played sports and instruments. They reproduced naturally. Whatever that meant. And all the while they reiterated to us that our amenities here were to leave no one wanting.
Suri nodded as she passed. “Good morning, Lady Jayati.”
I averted my eyes further down the hall, not in the mood for niceties. Above my thoughts rose the murmur of the main dining hall, small pockets of fellowship and feasting scattered throughout. The dining facilities were clean and efficient, like most things on the ship. To the left of the entrance stood a wall with multiple recessed bio-scanner palm-boards for bequest nourishment readings. Beyond it lay a short bar for smaller orders. Guides dressed in dark violet slacks and vests that hugged their white long-sleeved collared shirts served full meals to the tables.
The large expanse of the oblong room was filled with round tables which, during large assemblies, would retract flush with the floor, creating a wide open usable space. There were no other protrusions into the room. Everything aboard The Halcyon was meant to be sleek and streamlined, uncluttered. All lighting was recessed along the edges of hallways, ceilings, and walkways. The dining ‘chandeliers’ were hidden away behind smooth, curving, frosted glass panes that swooped from the bar to the outer window walls overlooking the gardens.
I wandered through the hall to meditate on the gardens. I passed a middle-aged bequest seated alone at a table set for twelve. Eric Malpass was recently orphaned like myself, his brother and grandbrother reclaimed within months of each other. He was in perfect form, dark brown hair neatly combed back from his clean-shaven tawny complexion. His creamy tunic was pressed and lintless over his lean shoulders and straight back. But the distance in his dark brown eyes was immeasurable. The air about him was stale and practiced, painstakingly methodical. I had expressed my condolences at his brother’s Reclamation almost a year ago.
“Peace be with you, brother,” I murmured and took his hand.
“Has she shown you?” Eric asked. He sounded tired but hopeful.
“Who?” I shook my head, confused. “Shown me what?” His expression drooped under the weight of fatigue and sorrow. His attention drifted away.
“Ask her,” he squeezed my hand, his eyes wandering past me. “Ask her to show you.”
Sometimes I caught his gaze at our larger gatherings but we hadn’t spoken since. Curiosity slowed my pace. Breakfast sat untouched before him, save for a biscuit; he rolled its soft innards into tiny balls. Each crumb was uniform and perfectly proportioned to the tens of others that he had stacked into a tiny, complete pyramid no larger than his palm. His hands were incredibly efficient and steady as he formed each ball and built the base level of his next starchy structure. I glanced at a movement from the bleached tablecloth. Under the table, his leg pumped vigorously like a piston from an antique combustion engine. My mind paused, considered an appropriate greeting, but before I broke my stride to approach him, Horace appeared, laying a friendly hand on his shoulder. A hint of purple still bruised the bridge of his nose. My stomach wrenched into a knot as he cast an eye my direction, all the while filling Eric’s ear with morning pleasantries.
Escaping to the far corner of empty social seating, I took my place at the end of the couch overlooking the forest canopy below. Serene and pristine, the gardens grew undisturbed in the green wing. No one was allowed there, not even the Guides. Only on the rare occasion when a piece of machinery malfunctioned did an engineer venture down in his white rubber suit to tend to the repairs. The beauty of the entire system was in its inherent nature. With little tending, the biosystem was self-sustaining. Every year cycle the seed wheel would till and turn over the ground, planting new crops on the site.
And in the center of it all was a beautiful rainforest, a forest full of thousands of species of flora and fauna all thriving unseen and untouched. They did not need husbanding the way the human race did. They did not need husbanding the way the bequests did, for that matter. We seemed to need the most care out of all the living things on this ship. Our species was so fragile, so susceptible to extinction, that it made me wonder why the effort was worthwhile.
“Good blessings, my dear Jaya.” Rebecca May eased down on the sofa, her smile wide and impish. Her midsection bulged in the ending terms of her pregnancy. “You’re looking well!” A blatant lie. “I am so happy for you. Dr. Wilks begins your maternity council next week, doesn’t she?” An
d an obvious attempt to avoid any discussion about Samidha.
“Hmm.” I nodded to her belly. “And your council ends soon.”
She beamed, her light blue eyes sparkling. “I am almost bursting with excitement!”
“Well, we don’t want you ‘bursting’ with anything quite yet.”
She gave a girlish giggle and smoothed a hand around her bloated stomach. Her golden brown hair was pulled back in a large, flawless bun, the bright dome lights above casting an innocent aura off her shining locks.
“Things are progressing beautifully. Doctor Martson says my brother and little Rebecca Katherine will be here by the end of the month.” I glanced across the room to the uneasy figure at the large round table.
“Eric still hasn’t decided on a name?”
Rebecca’s smile remained but she did not break her gaze to consider her fraternal twin brother. Her folded, obedient fingers remained settled in the nest of skirt on her lap.
“Eric said he will name our little brother when he is born.” She blinked and hesitated, refining a thought. “I think it’s beautiful to bestow the name upon the child when they are born. It’s like keeping their most sacred gift wrapped until their birthday.”
It was more like waiting until there was proof of a live birth before Eric grew too attached to his kin. I didn’t dare say it aloud.
Rebecca seized my hand, her face rosy with excitement. “I want you to join me in the birthing chamber, Jaya,” she said, eager to change the subject. A shot of panic iced my veins.
“Oh.” My surprise was genuine and my voice stumbled, falling flat in my mouth. Rebecca’s grip tightened on my fingers. “Oh!” I forced a smile and cleared my throat. “I am so honored, Becca. Thank you.” My eyes darted away, desperate for a distraction.
“I heard you had concerns and as your dear friend, I am here to ease your worries.”
Her statement caught me off-guard. “Did Eleni tell you that?”
Rebecca’s resplendent expression fell, perplexed. “Dr. Wilks? Of course I didn’t hear it from her.” She tugged a wrinkle out of her light blue skirt. “That would break her code of ethics.”
Her words tweaked my suspicion. “Then who did you hear it from?”
Rebecca chewed the inside of her cheek. She was a creature of few emotions and zealous routine. She thrived in her environment aboard The Halcyon. She treasured bequest society and her place in it. Everyone and everything had a purpose, orderly and rational. Impeccable Rebecca. It was her tendency towards this inane impeccability that made her last statement odd. For while she may not have given thought to her words before they poured out of her mouth, Rebecca always meant exactly what she said. Her eyes softened.
“Oh, my dear Jaya, it doesn’t take an informant to see that you are nervous about the whole process.” Her smile returned. “But you needn’t be. I want you to share in my experience so that you will understand the procedure. You’ll know the joy that awaits you when your own children are born.”
I’d heard the screams and seen the recovery of more than a few of the female bequests after their ‘joyful’ labors. I did not need to be present for a delivery to know I wanted nothing to do with one of my own. The light radiating from Rebecca’s light blue eyes kept those thoughts tied tight under my tongue.
“I know these past few weeks have been hard,” she gave my hand a little squeeze. “Samidha was like a sister to me too.”
I hadn’t spoken Samidha’s name since I saw her on that examination table. It hurt too much, but here it rolled off Rebecca’s tongue as easy as ‘hello’. I slipped my hand out of hers and smiled.
“Thank you for your kind sentiment.”
Rebecca paused, holding the empty space between her palms for a moment before returning them to her baby bulge.
“Well, I really must get my morning meal before the babies give me nausea.” I stood with her, helping Rebecca to her swollen feet. She hugged me but the gesture felt brief and perfunctory. I wanted to share in her maternal joy, to feel the same happiness that bubbled up in her voice and brightened her eyes. Rebecca’s smile was infectious and her energy touched at the dark tendrils of longing inside me. That cold longing to be like the others and the realization that it was hopelessly lost on me. The terrible truth was, I dreaded the day of my daughter’s conception.
Across the room, I caught sight of a familiar face. Rowan Ballard was my dearest friend aboard The Halcyon. My line of sisters had always been close to his brothers, the relationship never wavering with each generation, and it was expected that our own children would continue this friendship to the very end of our gene lines. In all ways except blood, he was my true family. We were not obligated to each other by our genetics. We chose our bond and that was where our implicit trust in each other stemmed. Rowan scanned the growing crowd of hungry bequests. I waved. His dark expression lightened but he did not smile.
“Are the dome lights especially bright this morning?” Rowan asked as he approached. “They seem bright.” The worry in his dark eyes was palpable.
I hooked an arm in his and we meandered along the perimeter of the long dining hall.
“You look exhausted,” I gave his bicep a squeeze.
“No more so than you.” He gave my face a once over. “Are you still having nightmares?” I let my sight fall back to the gardens.
“They’re not nightmares,” I muttered. Although we were close, at times Rowan struggled to understand my eccentricities.
“Sorry,” he corrected himself. “Memories.”
“They are her memories, Rowan.”
“I thought Dr. Wilks solved this mystery for you a while ago,” he insisted. “What did she call it? Cellular residue?”
“Residual cell memory. It’s not the same. It’s—” I sighed and dropped his arm. “Never mind. Why ask if you don’t want to know?”
“It’s just a bit hard to believe.” His voice was sincere. “Sometimes I think you believe her ghost is haunting you somehow.”
“How rich. You don’t believe in ghosts but you’ll wear that ragged rugby jersey of yours at every year cycle harvest.”
“And have we ever had a bad harvest?”
“It’s tilled and monitored by a perfect system. Your horrible jersey has nothing to do with the success or failure.”
“That jersey is a treasured family heirloom passed down to me from over thirteen generations of Ballards.”
“It certainly smells like it, too.” Rowan laughed and wrapped his freed arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. I leaned into his strong embrace, giving him a quick jab in the ribs.
“I’m sorry, Jaya. You know I’m—”
I looked up, a smart retort on the tip of my tongue but paused. Something had caught his attention, the humor on his face fading. From across the dining hall came a terrified yell.
“Please, God, no! Let her go!” Eric shouted to thin air. Horace stood but said nothing.
Eric leaped to his feet and shoved himself away from the table, flipping his plate of breakfast onto the floor.
“Help him!” someone cried.
“Is he having a seizure?”
A bequest reached out to help.
“Don’t touch him!” Horace’s arm shot up to block the gesture. “Let him come out of it on his own.”
“I can’t! No! No, not my wife! Please!” Eric shouted. He swung his arms in defense as he backpedaled, tripping over his own heels and falling to the floor. He lay there a moment, panting.
Rebecca rushed forward, emerging through the stunned onlookers. “Eric! Are you well? Eric?” Rebecca asked over the Guide’s shoulder.
“Please, step back, Lady Rebecca,” Horace resisted her momentum, firm. Rowan followed me to Rebecca’s side. I took her hand in my own and peered beyond Horace. Terror eased from Eric’s face. He blinked, coming to recognize his surroundings again and looked about, surprised to find himself on the floor. Two more Guides swooped in to secure Eric onto his feet. They eac
h grasped one of his arms.
“Please, don’t touch him.” Rebecca reached out a timid hand. “It was just another daydream. He’s fine.”
“I’m allwell,” Eric insisted, his voice shaking as he resisted their help. “Please, I’m allwell.”
“It’s just a precaution, sir,” one Guide assured him, seizing his elbow. “Please, you need rest.” Eric struggled to his feet and threw his arms free.
“I’m allwell!” he exclaimed. The Guides spread their palms in subservience before folding them back into the wide sleeves of their gray tunics. Eric snorted and rolled his shoulders to adjust his soiled cream-colored tunic. His eyes darted to the startled bequests around him, aware of the scene he had caused.
“Allswell,” Horace patted the air. “Please go back to your meals.” A cleaning droid whirred through the stunned gathering and swept the fallen plate of food into its gaping mouth. The hum of the vacuum eased everyone into a transition of dispersion.
“Eric?” Rebecca tried again.
The gardens’ bright solar-synthetic lighting sparkled off the fresh beads of sweat on Eric’s brow. He caught Rebecca’s worried gaze but averted his eyes, instead sliding a palm through his thick, dark hair as he turned away.
“Lady Rebecca, please.” Horace squared himself in front of her, breaking her sightline. His tone sounded sincere. “Let us take him into our care.”
She looked up at Horace and finally forced a quiet nod of acknowledgment. I allowed her room to step back and hugged her shoulders. The quiet murmurings of the communal morning returned to the hall. Although I could not hear what the Guides had said to make him change his mind, it was evident that Eric was not comfortable with his decision to leave. A fellow bequest reached out to give Eric’s shoulder a touch of comfort but he hesitated and the gesture fell away unnoticed. I shot Rowan a dark look of worry.
