Moongazer

by Mari Mancusi

  Fearless leader of Terra or no, Mariah must be one stupid girl. She had it all. Had Dawn's unwavering attention and yet she let it slide away. And now I'm the one left to pick up the pieces of this broken man's heart. A walking, talking empty ghost of the person he once loved. I don't deserve his devotion. His passion. I've done nothing to earn it. And a cheap fuck against a wall is not going to change that.

  "I'm sorry," I say, though I'm not sure exactly why I feel the need to apologize. Am I sorry I kissed him? Sorry I let him act on that kiss? Sorry I'm not the girl he wishes I were?

  "It's like making love to a ghost," Dawn mutters, half to himself, not acknowledging my apology. "To a shell of someone I loved."

  Great. Just great. That's exactly what I want to hear after opening myself up to a man I'm really starting to like. I'm not good enough. I'm not the one he wants. The encounter between us meant absolutely nothing. Shame wells up inside me and my stomach burns. I feel so dirty, so vile. How could I have accepted his touch, burned under his mouth? Succumbed to a cheap, tawdry act and confused it with more that that? Ugh, ugh, ugh.

  "I'm sorry," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I don't mean it like that. I enjoyed ... well, I mean ... It's just ... what are we doing here? There's no way we should be getting involved. You're leaving tomorrow to go back to your life. I don't want to get attached to you just to have you abandon me all over again."

  "Right. Of course. I understand," I say stiffly. I sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

  We're both silent for a moment, each locked in our own heads, trying to sort out what happened and what can be done about it. Finally, I decide to change the subject. "So, um, where are we?" I ask. "Who lives here?"

  Dawn releases a long sigh and I realize I've once again said something wrong. "This is Mariah's apartment," he says. Oh. Duh. Of course.

  "Er, yeah. Of course it is. It's, um, nice."

  "You should have seen where she used to live."

  "Oh right," I say, remembering Duske's story. "She was of some kind of royal blood, right? She must have had a fancy house, huh?"

  "Yes. If Mariah had continued on the path she was born to take, she would have been one of the Circle of Eight by now," he says. "And probably married to Senator Duske."'

  I raise an eyebrow. "She and Duske were together?"

  Dawn nods. "I think to this day he still holds a torch for her. That's probably why he allowed her to jump to Earth instead of killing her when he had the chance."

  "Interesting." No wonder he'd been staring at me like that back at his house. That Mariah girl really got around.

  "In any case, The Circle of Eight consists of four men and four women, and the positions are passed down from generation to generation," Dawn explains. "The idea is that unlike the democracy we had before the war, no appeal for votes or campaign contributions will force the governing official to be swayed in policy. The Circle will always be in power, and therefore there is no threat to them ruling fairly and decisively." He shakes his head. "That's the bullshit they feed us, anyway. In reality, The Circle is probably more corrupt than any democracy ever was. And because you can't vote them out of office, they are able to do anything they please."

  "Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I murmur. "So, what made Mariah decide to rebel?"

  Dawn is silent for a moment, staring at the blank wall in front of him. "She met me."

  "Ah. So it was like a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing? Indy and Dark Sider?" I'm almost amused at the cliché.

  Dawn shakes his head. "Not exactly." He fiddles with a ring, pulling it off and on again. "I wasn't always a Dark Sider either."

  "So you were an Indy as well?"

  "It's a long story."

  "I don't think we're going anywhere tonight."

  "It's also a big secret. If word got out about who I really am, I would be killed on sight."

  I remember the identification card back at his apartment. "So, what? Are you on some ten most wanted list or something? I kind of figured all the Eclipsers were anyway."

  "The Eclipsers are a nuisance to the government, yes," Dawn says. "But I'm a walking, talking liability. And the senate doesn't exactly like to leave loose ends like me wandering around."

  "What do you mean?" I'm beyond curious.

  "Look," Dawn says, turning to me. His blue eyes are earnest and concerned. "What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room. If they find out who I really am, they'll track me down and kill me without a moment's hesitation." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm trusting you here. Am I right to do so?"

  I nod. "Of course. I'd never betray your secret," I assure him. I lean forward on the couch, eager to hear what he has to say. What secret could be so big?

  "The surface of our world, as you know, was made unlivable after warring nations decided to bomb each other into oblivion," Dawn explains. "The types of bombs they used allowed for the decimation of life without destroying the infrastructure. So there are a lot of treasures up there on the surface. Stuff the government would kill to possess."

  "I can imagine."

  "In any case, my birth wasn't the result of two people making love," Dawn continues. "I was an experiment by the government. Egg, sperm, a boatload of cybernetics-all mixed together in a one big genetic soup. A few semiconductors in the brain, lead/titanium plates under my skin, and the piece de resistance-a palm implant that emits special radioactive nanoparticles, which allow me to heal." He stares down at his hands. "I don't know all the details. Never got to see my own blueprint, you know." He shrugs. "In any case, the idea was to create super humans that were immune to radiation. Beings that were extra strong and able to go up to the surface and labor for long hours, looting old buildings and bringing their treasures back below"

  "So you're a ..." I'm not sure what words I'm looking for.

  "Nothing awful." Dawn shakes his head. "I'm just a genetically enhanced human. I'm flesh and blood. I can feel. I can think. I have all the emotions a regular person would have. I'm just ... more."

  I nod, feeling a bit relieved that at least I hadn't just been making out with a robot.

  "That's how I healed your arm," Dawn adds. "I was created to be a surface medic. To take care of the others when something went wrong."

  "That's a pretty useful skill," I remark, glancing down at my wrist. You could never even tell it'd been broken. -So, what happened? Obviously you're not working on the surface now."

  "The experiment was a failure. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't create a radiation-proof neuro-Terran-or nT, as they call us. Eventually, just like any human, we'd get sick. But did the government decide to stop the program when they learned this? No." He shakes his head, disgust twisting his mouth into a frown. "The treasure retrieval is too valuable to their operations. So they continue to use us. Once we become too sick to work, they dispose of us and create new nT workers to fill our slots. Luckily for them, we're cheap to manufacture."

  I stare at him, horrified. "They'd dispose of you? Like, kill you?"

  "They call it `retiring'. But yeah, it's pretty much just murder. Of course, by the time they take someone off the job, they're so sick with radiation poisoning, it's almost better to just die and get it over with."

  "How do people stand for that? How can they just sit back and watch it happen?"

  Dawn shrugs. "One, the government tells people that nTs are robots. That we don't have any life or feelings. That we're just up there doing a necessary job."

  "And people believe?"

  "Some do. Some don't care either way. They choose to stick their heads in the sand and ignore all the atrocities. The government pacifies Indys anyway-alcohol, drugs, little luxuries, and nowadays, Moongazing. When life is good and you're feeling happy, people tend to ignore what's going on, as long as it's not in their faces. Indys figure it doesn't involve them. They don't know any nTs, so they simply don't care what happens to us. Just like they don't care wh
at happens to the Dark Siders."

  I screw up my face in disgust. "I can't believe they'd just look the other way, enjoy their lives, sponsored by the labors of the exploited classes."

  "In their defense, some don't know the truth," Dawn amends. "They believe what the government tells them. That the nTs are manufactured worker robots without feelings or family. If you think of it that way, the fact that we're supposedly disposable doesn't seem all that bad. I mean, would you feel empathy for a burned-out toaster oven? No. You'd be happy it was useful while it lasted and quick to replace it once it wore out."

  "So that's where Mariah came in," I conclude. "She learned the truth about the nTs and decided she wanted to help."

  Dawn nods. "We met accidentally. I had escaped my work crew, broken a tunnel seal, and shot down a Rabbit Hole. Dazed and confused and lost, I wandered into Luna Park. I didn't know where I was or what I was doing. I'd spent my whole life in a work camp. Mariah found me hiding in a ditch. She felt bad for me, I guess, and took me into her home and fed me. Risked her life to save mine, to hide me when my platoon came looking. No matter what, I'll always be grateful to her for that."

  "And then you fell in love."

  Dawn smiles, his eyes far away. "We did. She was so passionate. So angry when she learned the truth about what the Circle was actually doing to people. She decided then and there that it wasn't enough to save only me. She wanted to save all of us."

  "And so she started the Eclipsers."

  "First, she went around trying to garner support amongst her own friends. Other wealthy Indys and Circle members. They mostly just laughed at her. They said she should give up her silly crusade and get back to her training. Take her chosen position in the Circle of Eight and then she'd be free to voice any concerns she had there."

  "That does seem like a reasonable idea. I mean, she would have had the power."

  "Not really. It is a circle of eight, remember. Each member still must accede to the majority. And Mariah realized very quickly that she'd never be able to gain support from within. The senate is too set in its ways. Too greedy. Without the Dark Siders and nT slave labor, the economy would collapse. No one was interested in their extravagant lifestyles being taken from them just to relieve the daily drudgery of a working class they never even met."

  "Good point. So then, what did she do?"

  "Well, she did manage to drum up some support from a few sympathetic Indys. And so, with their help, she formed the Eclipsers. She set up secret meetings and laid the seeds of our eventual revolution. At first her ideas were small, but as she grew into her new role, she began to implement major initiatives designed to improve day-to-day life for the Dark Siders."

  "They must have been thrilled to have her," I remark, remembering the throng chanting her name.

  "Oh yes. The would-be senator who lived down in Stratum 3, getting her hands dirty while helping the Dark Siders? No one had seen anything like it. And the people fell in love with her. She was so well-spoken, so strong in her belief that they could really make a difference-she quickly became a symbol of hope for the people. She gave them something to live for."

  "It must have been so satisfying. To see them start to dream again."

  Dawn nods. "It was great. But it was also really hard. The pressure was a lot for Mariah to handle. The Dark Siders began to see her as some kind of demi-god, and made their demands accordingly. And she was just a girl. No magical powers, no enhanced DNA. By the end of each day she was exhausted-not to mention an outcast amongst her former friends and family. She couldn't return to her home. Her own mother, Senator Estelle, denounced her as a traitor and a threat to the Circle. She swore up and down it didn't bother her, but we all knew she was lying."

  "She sounds like an amazing person," I comment quietly. No wonder Dawn's not interested in me. He's got this super ex-girlfriend, able to leap social injustices in a single bound. And here I am, a silly video game designer from Manhattan. I once sponsored a boy from Guatemala for the price of a cup of coffee each day, but that's where my unselfish, charitable works end. I'm nothing compared to the great, illustrious Mariah. Nothing at all.

  "She was," Dawn says, staring down at his hands. "Until her betrayal."

  "Tell me again what happened with that?" Dawn shrugs.

  "As I told you before, she'd been Moongazing for a while and becoming more and more addicted. Her original intent was to study the program to see if Earth was a viable place for Dark Siders to emigrate to. If it was, she was somehow going to figure out a way to capture some of the Moongazer Stations and start sending people for free. She didn't think it was fair that only the rich could live in paradise."

  "And so she started to 'Gaze to check it out."

  "And got addicted. What none of us knew at the time-they don't exactly advertise it on the billboards is that the more times you take 'Gazers and go to Earth, the more your mind must bond with Earth's reality. You start to lose your Terran identity. I started realizing what was going on, but when I tried to stop her, she'd get really, really angry. Just like any junkie, she refused to admit there was a problem."

  "That must have torn you up inside. To watch her start to slide away like that." I'd seen the same thing happen to friends back on Earth: Club kids who started out taking a little Ecstasy to dance the night away soon turning into smack-heads who would sell their own mothers for a hit.

  "It was. And the worst thing was, when we weren't fighting about her 'Gazing, she'd try to get me to come with her. She told me Earth was a whole new world, a wonderful new existence that she wanted to share with me. She said we wouldn't have to hide anymore, that we could be free to start a new life. A better life without fear."

  "But you didn't want to?"

  Dawn shakes his head. "Not that I didn't want to start a new life with Mariah. I loved her more than anything.

  But I witnessed a marked change in her personality. The 'Gazing trips were affecting her mind." He sighs. "Suddenly our fearless leader, the hope of our people, the leader of our cause had become nothing more than a strung out 'Gazer, talking gibberish and confusing everyone she came in contact with."

  "How terrifying. And sad."

  "Indeed. And it was getting harder to hide her addiction from the others. I shouldn't have-I realize that now. But at the time I wanted only to protect her. I didn't want her to lose what she'd worked so hard to build. I thought maybe she'd be able to kick it. If I helped her. .." He trails off. "Sounds stupid in retrospect."

  "Not really. We all want to protect the people we love."

  "Right. But I didn't realize at the time that protecting Mariah would be at the cost of so many lives." Dawn rakes a hand through his platinum hair. "I never dreamed she'd go so far as to actually betray us to the Senate-her archenemies. I guess I underestimated the extent of the addiction." He shakes his head. "I still remember that night, clear as if it were yesterday. The soldiers rushing in, brandishing weapons, cutting down the Eclipsers where they stood. Watching as all of our great plans were decimated in one fell swoop." He fists his hands. "We had the opportunity to show the world the atrocities he government was inflicting on the Dark Siders. A chance to sway them to our side once and for all. Instead, because of Mariah's betrayal, that night became just one more atrocity and the Indys still have no idea what's really going on in Terra. But I've told you all this before. You don't need to hear it again."

  The pain in his voice is tangible. I can't imagine how he must have felt that night as he realized what was happening. To have the person you love more than anything turn on you and destroy everything you've worked for-it must have been devastating.

  "We fought back, of course," Dawn adds, unable to let it go. "But we were greatly outnumbered. In fact, it was a massacre. And I just remember thinking over and over again, Oh Mariah, what have you done to us?"

  "You're sure it was Mariah?"

  "Think about it. She was a strung-out junkie, wanting to make that last migration to Earth. She had no money-she'd em
ptied her savings to help fund the revolution long ago. How did she get to Earth? She had to pay somehow."

  "Right. I can see where you would think that." Still, to me something wasn't adding up. How could someone be so passionate about a cause one day and then lust abandon it and sell out her friends the next? There had to be some missing piece to this puzzle.

  "So," Dawn says, "the next time I saw her-you-was in that alleyway on the outskirts of Luna Park. Obviously I was more than a bit confused at that point. I'm sorry about my reaction."

  "It's okay. I understand completely, given the circumstances."

  Dawn rises from his seat and stalks the length of the room. He takes the photo of him and Mariah off the wall and studies it closely. "It's still not easy," he says, looking back at me for a moment before returning his focus to the portrait. "You look like her. You smell like her. You walk and talk and have all of her mannerisms. But you don't have her inside you. You don't remember me. Our life together. You don't remember all we had-what you threw away without ever telling me why!" His voice breaks on the "why," and he slams his fist into the wall, punching easily through the plaster.

  Empathy consumes me as I watch him lean his head against the wall. It's impossible to comprehend what he's feeling. His true love, discarding him like an old habit in exchange for a new one, betraying not only him, but everything they'd fought for. No wonder he'd acted so hateful toward me. I'd hate me too.

  I approach him slowly. He's shaking, hands curled into fists. His face is crimson. His eyes narrow, and he's still seething with anger. I'm half afraid that if I touch him he'll hit me, knock me across the room with his super strength. But at the same time, I know he needs me. On some base level, he knows it, too. And so I risk it, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, burying my head in his back, squeezing him tight, not saying a word.

  At first he's stiff, resists my touch. Refuses to accept my offer of comfort. But then he breaks. His muscles relax under my hold. I can feel his hard swallow, and a moment later he turns to face me. His eyes are rimmed with angry tears.