by Melissa Faye
“I can’t believe you were living in a dorm until graduation,” said Harvey. “We moved into commune buildings in high class. I like that better.”
“It’s similar enough,” I said. “I mean, I had my own room and everything.”
“But you were surrounded by little kids all the time! What a pain!”
“I guess so,” I said. “It would be nice to live in a separate place. But I had a middle class mentee, and I liked being able to eat with her in the cafeteria.”
“I had one too,” Harvey said. “Ronnie. He was starting middle class when I left my community.” Harvey always became choked up when he talked about leaving home. His breath caught in his chest. I could understand the feeling.
“You never told me,” I said. “Why did you leave?”
Harvey paused for a minute. I watched him trying to compose himself.
“It was my mentor,” he said. “Darla. She never seemed that happy in the community, but she was always helpful to me. She was doing an internship in the cloning facility. We didn’t actually do cloning, but we had a Development Room where we did intake and development. Once she started there, something changed. She seemed more frustrated with the community.
“We talked a lot about it while I was in high class. My career assignment was Education, and from my history classes, I had a good sense of why we moved to cloning and the Big Goal. Darla got annoyed when I brought up the Big Goal. She finally confided in me that she didn’t believe in it. She saw what cloning looked like, and didn’t think it was natural. She heard about ACers from a coworker. After I graduated, she wanted to stop talking about it. I grew more passionate, but she seemed to lose interest. It was like a light switched off inside her. I never found out why.”
This felt a bit familiar. “Did other people talk about this?”
“No one really said much,” said Harvey. “It was kind of taboo to mention any of it. I was confused for several months when Darla cut me off. Finally, someone passed me a note. It was from a member of an underground group who wanted to protest the government system. I joined them at my first chance. Once I learned more and heard about the ACer camp, I left.”
I couldn’t imagine leaving my community by myself. I wouldn’t have left were it not for Etta and Breck. It was terrifying to think about being on my own walking through the noncom, with no sense for where to go.
“How did you know where the camp was?” I asked.
Harvey shrugged. “Someone showed me the general area on a map. I didn’t really know what I was doing, I suppose. But I was convinced by everything Darla said a long time ago. I don’t think I realized how important the cause was to me until I joined the Underground. By the time I got the map, I was ready to go. It took me a few more days than it should have, but I arrived here.”
“That’s incredible,” I said.
Harvey gave me a weak smile. “I’m glad I’m here, even if I had to give up so much.”
I wished I could help Harvey gain more confidence in his choices. Everyone at the camp had a story about what brought them there. It was usually someone else who came before them. Sometimes they came by themselves and left others behind. Sometimes I looked around in the dining building and felt darkness in the air. Someone would tell a story about those they lost, and everyone would be a little bit quieter.
The eeriest part was when we learned that many of the ACers were at camp because they had been banished by their communities. Omer had mentioned it in passing, but I hadn’t connected the dots yet. Neither had Breck. We looked at each other with pursed lips when Torrice mentioned what had happened to her. “I was part of a demonstration. We surrounded the Chancellor’s mansion and shouted anti-community and anti-cloning slogans in the middle of the day. Hundreds of people gathered behind us to watch. Security guards were sent to catch us, but we all ran and only three of us were found. I was given a choice between banishment and rehab.”
“Rehab?” asked Ben. “Rehab for what?”
Sven broke in. “Banishment versus rehabilitation seems to be the most common punishments for Underground protests – which some community leaders call terrorism.” People whispered angrily with one another at this reminder. “Those who go into rehabilitation are assigned to a different job in the community, but before they start, they attend rehabilitation classes run by some of the community leaders. It’s like brainwashing. Hours and hours of watching videos and reading and analyzing texts about the founding of communities, and what makes them the best way to run society and continue the human race. It lasts for weeks. After awhile, most people either break completely and shut down, or beg for banishment.”
I imagined being alone in a room with Chancellor Lorenzo for hours on end, day after day. I wondered if I would break and give in, or if I could handle it. Would it be better to give up and go along with the propaganda, or escape from the community and be banned from society forever?
“They retired my clone,” Torrice said with a morose face. I looked at Ben quizzically, but he was staring at Torrice still.
“Retired?” I asked. Torrice stared at the ground.
“No more Torrices,” she said. “They just up and stop making ‘em. Like we’re all trouble. I’m the last one.”
My mouth dropped open. It was a strange sort of punishment to be the end of your clone line. It was something the government definitely couldn’t enforce lightly. Too much retirement would drop the population too low. I wondered if Alexis had been retired. Or if I was now, too.
MATANA TRACKED ETTA’S vital signs each week. I worked with her and Etta to review different books about fetal development. We started to develop a plan for childbirth. It caused many arguments. I wanted Etta and Breck to stay right there at the camp. Breck wanted us to find better equipment and maybe a doctor who would help. Matana was hesitant to pick a side.
“Breck is right,” said Matana. “There’s an entire chapter devoted to labor complications. We do not have the equipment here at camp to help you if anything goes wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We can’t return to a community. It’s too risky.” I flipped through the pages of the book Matana was looking at. It did have a long chapter describing all the dangerous things that may happen. Even with my medical background, I didn’t know half of what they were talking about.
“Have you heard from your friend back home?” Matana asked. I shook my head. I sent a message every other day or so, but Charlie had only responded twice. “All ok.” “Talked to V. Keeping track.” I would have liked to hear more. Charlie may be able to find more information around the Med that would help us with the birth. But we wouldn’t find out unless he responded.
The next week, we finally decided to try to hear the baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope. Matana wanted us to wait; if we couldn’t hear the heartbeat, she said, we would worry over nothing. Eventually, Breck wore her down.
Breck went first. He put the stethoscope in his ears and Matana helped guide it into position on Etta’s belly. Her stomach was growing quickly now; she was wearing stretchy leggings most days. I kept meaning to go with her to the supply tent to find larger clothing sizes.
Matana moved Breck’s hand around until we all saw his face light up. “I hear it!” he cried. Tears welled up in his eyes. Matana let go of his hand and we watched Breck listen for a few minutes. His face turned red. Etta grinned broadly while she watched his reaction, and soon I saw tears on her cheeks as well.
Etta went next. Breck kept the stethoscope in place while she listened. Her smile became wider. “It’s our baby, Breck!” she said. “He’s ok!”
They let Matana, myself, and Ben listen too. It was a strange sensation to hear a heartbeat from Etta’s stomach rather than her chest. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. I lost track of time while I listened, and Ben had to tap my shoulder to get my attention. “My turn!” he teased.
That night, I messaged Charlie while I lay on a blanket in my tent. “Heard heartbeat” I wrote, unable to think of a
way to convey the happy news under a disguise.
“Glad” Charlie responded. Then, “Bomb in cloning lab.” Then, “Bomb in comm center in school.”
I sat upright and looked around. I was surrounded by the yellow walls of the tent, I thought I saw them closing in on me. Ben was still out. Breck and Etta were probably in their tent. None of us could do anything about what was happening in the community. I needed to know more.
“V?” I wrote.
“Not sure,” said Charlie.
“Death?” I wrote.
“11.”
I started to cry quietly to myself, hugging the TekCast to my chest. I imagined the faces of the Young Woods community members. Which ones were no longer there? Who had been lost in the bombings? How could Omer and his team have been so stupid? I was starting to agree with community leaders. This wasn’t activism. This was violence. And it was getting out of control
I crawled over to Breck and Etta’s tent and as soon as I saw their faces, I started to cry in earnest. They didn’t speak, but Etta gave me a big hug until my breathing slowed down. My face was wet with tears and I could barely see through my swollen, puffy eyes.
“What happened, Yami?” Breck asked gently. I still couldn’t speak, so I handed him my TekCast with Charlie’s messages still open.
Breck and Etta read the messages quickly and we all sat together in shared grief. Etta was crying too, and Breck’s nose turned red. He was breathing faster, his jaw clenched.
“I think you two need to stay here,” I said. “Maybe for good. Breck, I know you didn’t want to but -”
“You’re right, Yami,” said Etta. “I heard my baby’s heartbeat. He’s alive in there. There’s no way we can keep him safe in Young Woods, or Glenwood Pines, or any other community. Who knows? If the Underground bombed Young Woods, maybe it’s happening elsewhere too.”
“Breck?” I asked. He nodded.
Ben finally found us, and we showed him the texts.
“This is all because the Chancellor keeps holding onto these secrets,” Ben said. I arched a questioning eyebrow in his direction, but he didn’t respond. He was almost dismissive, and starting to act more like the Chancellor and less like our friend. Less concerned about the loss of life and more about how to be a better leader himself. “If people knew what we knew, there wouldn’t be random acts of violence like this. It would be an uprising. Everyone would be part of this, and we could overthrow the council.”
“That’s a little overly optimistic, isn’t it?” I said through my post-crying hiccups.
“Why?” Ben asked. “You have a clear picture of what’s going on, Yami. Could you really stay out of this, knowing what you know?”
Everything I’d done in the last few months was about keeping my head down and keeping my friends safe. I couldn’t give up that goal now. Still, the violence made me feel sick. I dried my face and pulled my hair down out of its bun. I needed more space. I needed to get out of that tent and away from Ben.
“Too many people have died, Ben,” I said. “I can’t be a part of that. It’s not worth death.”
“But it is!” Ben cried. “Those deaths aren’t the fault of the Underground. They’re the fault of a corrupt government who doesn’t believe in transparency.”
“What would you have us do, Ben?” Breck asked. His arm was around Etta, who stared at Ben, her mouth wide open.
“We need to tell everyone...everything.” He gathered steam as the ideas rushed out. “About rehabilitation. And ACer camps. About the F-Labs. They need to know what’s happening to Etta.”
“You think we should tell people about Etta?” I said, my voice laced with frustration. “Why would we risk that?”
“Because people need to know! Scientists need to figure out why this happened,” Ben said. “It’s our only hope for repeating the results. We need to figure out what it was about Breck and Etta that led to conception. And if people know about Etta...maybe other pregnant women out there will come forward too. There’s safety in numbers.”
“No one else is pregnant, though,” said Breck.
“Not that we know of!” Ben said. “That’s the problem! We don’t know what’s going on in Glenwood Pines, or any other community or region. Who else is on the run right now in fear for their lives? We need to know, and that means we need to tell! We need new leaders who will tell the truth and improve the way the government works...”
“Leaders like you, Ben?” Breck seethed at his best friend.
“Me, someone else, it doesn’t matter I guess.” Ben sat up a little straighter at the thought of himself leading a community. Or a revolution.
“Get out,” Etta said. Her tears had turned to tears of anger. “I’m staying here. Matana is going to help us have the baby. Yami, too. I will not risk telling other people about this and causing mass hysteria. Or risk hurting the baby.”
Ben was shocked into silence. Etta wasn’t one for broad proclamations.
“Etta, I didn’t –“
“No. Go. If this is what you think, get out of here.”
Ben half-stood under the tent, backing towards the entrance. “You’re wrong, you know,” he said. “You’re as bad as Chancellor Lorenzo, keeping secrets. Information is safety. Information means we have a future as a species.” Etta continued staring daggers in his direction, and Ben disappeared.
Chapter Seventeen
None of us were talking to Ben, who was gone from the tent by the time I woke up. I teared up again thinking about the bombings. He found Vonna, who was involved with planning but not execution. But so many other people had died or been seriously injured. I felt like I could almost hear the bombs going off from where I lay. Who was next?
Ben was nowhere to be found, but we didn’t care. We met with Matana that morning.
“Here,” she said, passing a piece of paper across the table to us. “I’ve made a list of the equipment I believe we’ll need for a successful delivery, assuming there are no major issues. I’ve circled the items that we don’t have here at the camp. I will be able to help if you can get me the proper tools.”
I looked over the list. It wasn’t as long as I feared, but there were more items circled than not.
Breck didn’t even bother looking at the list. “I’ll do it,” Breck said. “I’ll find all of this. Whatever we need.”
“How are you going to do that?” Etta whispered. “Are you going to go back to Glenwood Pines? You can’t!”
“You can’t go back to the community you recently escaped from. And it’s not going to be as simple as walking in and taking what you need,” said Matana. “We do have a few ACers planning on doing a resource run next week, though. Sven’s leading it. Talk to him and see if you can tag along.”
Some of the ACers didn’t mind the risk that came with traveling to communities and collecting important resources for the camp; most of the camp wanted nothing to do with it. It came with at least a few days of camping in the wilderness with even fewer amenities than were available at the camp. Not to mention the fear of being caught. Rehabilitation. Retirement. Anything.
“I can go,” I said. “Breck, you should stay with Etta.” His cheeks burned, but he agreed.
We reviewed the list later in the week to strategize. I needed to know exactly what everything on the list was, including whether or not an item could be exchanged for another based on availability. Etta, the best artist in the group, drew pictures of items so we wouldn’t have to carry the books along or stop and pull up drawing on our TekCasts. We prioritized the list by importance.
Sven was planning on going on the next resource run with Daphne, the young woman we met in the dining hall the first night we came to the camp. He didn’t want me to come, but after Daphne vouched for us and Matana showed a modicum of support for the idea, he gave in. With three people going instead of two, the packing list grew. The community we planned on visiting, Older Springs, was a three day walk from the camp.
“Older Springs is here,” said Sven
when we met to plan our trip. He opened a big map on one of the long dining tables after dinner. “We have a contact there, Ravi, but I’ve never met him personally. Li Fa vouched for him. He should be able to help us stay out of trouble. He’s been sending me maps of which roads to take when. Yami, he’s getting me a schedule of when sanitation cleans the Med’s supply building so we can avoid you being seen.”
Li Fa had only been unpleasant towards us since we arrived at camp. I shuddered to think about what Ravi would be like if Li Fa liked him. Sven promised I wouldn’t need to meet him at all if the plan went well.
In the days leading up to the trip, Ben had set up a tent on the other side of camp from us and none of us were speaking to him. He had one of the history books in his tent, and when we wanted to see it, we decided not to bother.
The night before we left for the run, Breck, Etta and I took our blankets out of the tents and slept under the stars. Breck and Etta both held a hand on her belly. Sven had helped her find some slightly larger pants and leggings. Every day, her pregnancy felt a little more real.
“Can you feel it in there?” Breck asked Etta. He was rubbing her stomach mindlessly now in the dark.
“Kind of,” she said. “Sometimes I feel something strange, like a little butterfly is fluttering its wings. I’m not convinced it’s anything besides nerves. But then sometimes I feel something like a kick. I know that’s the baby, but it doesn’t happen much.” Breck pressed down gently on Etta’s stomach, feeling around. She giggled; she was very ticklish.
“Yami, are you going to be ok going on the resource run?” she asked. Breck sat up and looked over at me, frowning.
