by Nolan Oreno
Before he could go any further in his fantasy, a flash appeared in the corner of his wide eyes. There was quick movement on video that was playing down the lane, and he turned to it. The screen showed Autumn standing in the middle of Hollis’ cabin. Blocking the door was Hollis himself, and he was aggressively gesturing with his hands and mouth. He looked enraged, and Autumn looked guilty in his anger. There were no sounds to the surveillance videos and as such Saul could not investigate more into what the situation was. It could be nothing more than a petty argument, or it could be something more.
Saul drew his face close to the virtual window as if he could peek his head through and hear the words being exchanged, but his nose only prodded at the glass and sprinkled with static. He was pushed back into the same room he was in before and could hear nothing but the sound of a dozen humming monitors and himself slowing his breath. He tried to read the lips of both Hollis and Autumn but failed to pick up any words. How the ex-Commander had spied on the colony without the aid of sound was at a loss to him, and it was evident that more efficient security tactics were necessary for his new reign. Saul would need to find a way to hear their words.
He left his seat in the Command Center, shutting down all the monitors to leave no trace of being there and locked the door on his way out. Saul could not let the others know that he had rebooted the surveillance system in the Hub and was using the cameras for his own personal espionage. In the last few moments that he had alone with the dying Commander at the Decompression Room, Saul had demanded for the entry code into the Command Center. He knew it was the only way through the four-inch steel door that separated him with the control he wanted over the colony. Without total awareness of what was happening, the hysterical Commander told Saul, and Saul alone, the code to enter the room, giving Saul access to all the executive power within. When Commander died shortly after by Saul’s hand, the others believed the access code was lost with him and that there would be no way to enter the room. Saul knew that he would need to maintain this belief if he wished to have any authority as the new leader of the colony.
The further he marched down to Hollis’ cabin, the angrier Saul became. Autumn was his. What right then did Hollis, an outsider in their relationship, have in demanding things by her? Autumn was Saul’s, and only Saul’s. He had been too lenient with Autumn and Hollis’ friendship for too long. However close they were, Saul assured himself that Hollis was not a threat, at least not romantically. The man was attractive, in a rugged way, and perhaps one of the most intelligent members of the colony, but his meek and mild personality could not allure a girl like Autumn. She needed someone strong and in-charge. An alpha, not an omega. A lion, not a mouse. Autumn needed Saul: a builder of things and a commander of the things he builds. She had no use for a drug-addicted Mexican who spends all his time with flowers.
But Saul was smart enough to know that jealousy could undermine his authority and cloud his mind. The colony’s progress within the last week had been a tremendous improvement since Richard Virgil was the last to be calling the orders, or rather the last not to be calling the orders. Saul sought to hold his newly acquired position in the chain of command so that the colony could stay functional and productive under his guidance. He had to contain himself for the sake of his people, and he saw a drastic improvement in them in a week. At the very least, he had Hollis to thank for convincing the others to become productive again after his speech. Saul would keep this in mind when it came to confronting the man. As Saul pressed his thoughts and worries into the far-reaches of his mind, he pressed his ear against the door to Hollis’ cabin.
On the other side of the entry, through the inches of alloy, Hollis pushed off the dresser and stomped towards Autumn. His hands interlaced at the top of his head, and he moved sorely in circles.
“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t need you looking after me, Autumn. I’m a grown man. Save your motherly instincts for when they’re needed," he rumbled.
Autumn tried not to move. She would hold her ground. “I told you before, and I’m not telling you again- I didn’t take any of your things. Your business is your own and if you want to smoke dope all day then that’s fine by me. I could care less what you do."
“It’s not cannabis, don’t act so stupid. They’re herbs that can save lives and could have saved the Commanders life if you hadn’t hidden the box from me in the first place. Don’t patronize me and make me out to be something that I’m not. I’m not an addict, I’m a botanist. It’s my job to help people with these plants and by hiding them from me you're risking their lives."
“I would believe that if I hadn’t saved you from jumping to your death during one of the highs you got from your ‘life-saving plants’," Autumn mocked.
Hollis sighed. “I was never going to jump. And before you make any more misunderstood judgments about me I want you to know that it’s been two months since I last used any sort of psychoactive or drug. I know very well that I can’t say the same about you."
A stillness fell in the cabin.
“What is that suppose to mean?" asked Autumn with a shot of offense.
“What it means is that you’ve been prescribing yourself all kinds of drugs these last few weeks. Clearly you’re the bigger addict of the two of us. Hell, maybe that's why you stole the lockbox from me, so you can use the herbal medicines inside."
Autumn leaped forward. “Well, considering my condition it only makes sense that I’m allowed to have a few reliefs in a day. With Doctor Novak disappearing out of thin air, I don’t have a professional consultant to go to for these types of things. My headaches are worsening and my stress is nearly unbearable with the fluctuations in my weight, so spare me the accusations. When you’re a woman with my responsibilities then get back to me."
Hollis joined her in the center of the room. They were face to face and closing in like colliding storms on the open ocean. “I have responsibilities too, Autumn. You seem to forget this. You act like my research is nothing more than playing in the mud but it’s much more important than that. The Computer understands the gravity of my position, so why can’t you?"
“Don’t bring him into the discussion," Autumn cut in.
“And why can’t I?" he nearly shouted. “Actually, you should be thanking him, he’s the one who convinced me to help you in the first place."
Autumn lowered her brow to further emphasise the next point. “Convince you? Sure, I believe that. I wouldn’t be so surprised you need convincing. Without his guidance, you would have already lost your mind. These sessions are the only thing keeping you sane."
Hollis looked at Autumn as if she had suddenly changed form into something completely foreign to him.
“If you think I’m so helpless then why even try? If I’m so damn incapable then maybe I should just leave you alone and let you figure out your own problems. I can walk away, as you tend to forget. I have no obligations towards you. Let's just think of everything I’ve done so far as charity, but since my kindness is not being acknowledged then I guess I’ll stop giving. You can move on to another caretaker, to Saul for all I care."
Autumn looked down at her slightly larger stomach and back up to Hollis. “If that’s what you think then so be it. You’re not a knight in shining armor. I don’t need you looking after me anymore, and I’m starting to realize that I never needed you in the first place."
“Sure, you can think that," laughed Hollis. “But you won't survive long on your own. Not on this world."
Autumn shook her head at his ignorance. “I’m not alone," she said, placing her hand on her stomach. “But you will be," and she advanced towards the exit of the cabin, resisting to look back to what she was leaving behind. She pushed aside the sliding door and ignored Hollis as he punched a nearby wall in the backdrop. Into the corridor she fled and hurried her pace through it, trying to hold back the oncoming tears, and began looking for a place that was far away from her troubles.
Lately, in each of their shared moments,
Hollis would flash the heat of indifference, in fast and short bursts like lightning. She knew he cared for the child and herself, and told this to her often, but sometimes this truth was buried deep below layers and layers of lies and false faces. Hollis was a Russian-nesting-doll of a human being, and far within his many shells was his real self, drowning and gasping for air. How much time, Autumn wondered then, would it take to unearth him from his self-made tomb so she could finally have all of him.
Autumn knew that she could only rely on herself for survival and nobody else, and she would continue doing so until her child was born. She did not need to find a father for her baby, and Hollis was surely no longer a suitable candidate for the position, not in his current state of confusion. She would not wait for him, even when he says he’s making progress with the Computer. She couldn’t afford to wait. It would be just two months when the baby would arrive and in that time she would need to prepare a better world. Autumn was young and scared and seemingly alone, but no matter the chaos before her and the unknowns of it all, she was willing to do anything for her unborn baby. Her love was unwavering.
Autumn opened the door to her own personal cabin and entered, ready to release her anger in a fit of screams. She turned to her bed to grab a pillow and muffle her cries but found someone already sitting on it, comfortable and calm.
Saul smiled back at her from the bed.
“Hello dear," he spoke soothingly and stood over her in a quick move. “Is there something wrong? You look flustered."
Autumn opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What could she say? She had been trying so long to hide from him that she knew this day would eventually come.
“You don’t need to tell me. You’ve been stressed just like me," whispered Saul as he placed his hands on her hips. “It's been hard around here lately, in the colony. There's been plenty of death and deceit to go around. Plenty of lies. So we need to try to relax."
Saul breathed hot air into her ear. “We need to try to be human again," he said, and began to slide his hands down the sides of her body, gripping his fingers under her jacket and around her skin-tight colonial suit beneath, feeling the subtle curves of her pregnancy.
Autumn could not hide her body anymore. In the coming weeks, nothing could cover the roundness: no fleece, no coat, no dress, nor corset. Her attempts to stunt Saul’s sexual cravings were about to fail. He wanted her to undress, layer by layer, to kiss her skin and feel her body, and it would be then, in her bareness, that he would see the truth. Her truth. What would Saul do then? On a world so small, there would be no place to hide from his rage.
The clothes would not come off, Autumn decided then. She wanted to stay buried, safe beneath the sand. Un-breached and alone, like Hollis Reyes and the unborn curled in her womb. But she knew that she could not hide forever. Her own due date was nearing. With each day, the sand between worlds was shallowing, and just as she was digging to Hollis, Saul was digging to her. It was inevitable that each would be found by the other, and right now, Saul was nearly there.
“No, Saul- stop," she protested, holding back his restless hands. “It’s late."
Saul continued to massage her body, pulling off her coat and moving his hands to the zipper on the front.
“Why stop? Why hold back? You have nothing to hide from me."
Autumn tried harder to break his domination. “Please, not now. I don’t feel up for it. I don’t feel well," she said.
Saul’s force grew stronger. He began to yank at her coverage, yanking the fabric on her suit.
“It's been too long, Autumn. Too long you’ve been running from me. Always wearing all these clothes. I need to see you. I need to see all of you," he hissed, raising his voice and turning a violent red. “No more running away!" He zipped down the front of her suit half-way, touching the bare skin.
“No! Saul, stop! Dammit, stop!" Autumn screamed. She held back with all her ability, hopeless and horrified, coiled in his constricting arms, and before she knew it her hand whipped across his right cheek, snapping his head to the side. The sharp clap reverberated between the two fighting bodies, ceasing Saul’s aggression. He pushed off the pregnant woman and touched his burning cheek in amazement, as if God had bled, and slowly the fire cooled in his veins. Autumn had resisted and won, but not without suffering her own damages. The front of her suit was torn open and showed the front of her body half-exposed. She was unearthed, at last.
Saul’s eyes fell to her bulging waist, and he looked resolved in what he saw.
“You have something to tell me," he said with no inflection or surprise.
Autumn let the air escape from her lungs as she held onto her protruding abdomen, hoping it hadn’t popped and deflated in the struggle.
“I do," she cried.
The beams bent with the wind. They rattled and cooed and twisted in their foundation. Through the gaps between the buildings, the heavy desert wind pushed and rocked the beams even further. Like thin trees on a tall mountain, the rickety metal structure swayed back and forth in the breeze, and the man in the Crawler could see this very clearly from his position. He knew that the base of the structure was too weak to hold upright so much metal and concrete, and in its half-built state, there would be no telling when the tower would fall under the structural circumstances.
The wind had been harsh and relentless for some time now as if a great storm was coming on the horizon, waiting for the right moment to strike and topple the tower. The man in the Crawler beneath the building did not want to see it fall because he had created it with his own hands, and yet, it was because of this very reason he knew that it would. He had seen it happen in his past works too many times before, in another life, on another world. He remembered that day, the one that mirrored the current, and the destruction of the last building he ever built on Earth.
The young man was in the city of Tel Aviv in the state of Israel during the height of the war. Ahead of him was a tower that looked just the same as the other on Mars: unfinished and neglected by its builder. Except this particular tower was not unfinished, but rather destroyed by someone else. Scorch marks burned up its brick, and the window-frames were windowless. Glass collected at the buildings bottom with the rest of the fallen rubble that fell from above, and sparking wires protruded out the gashes in its side walling while broken piping rolled water from its spouts into the mess of other things at the basin. The building looked hollow from the outside looking in, but the man knew the inside was more or less intact, shielded from the blast. He knew that hundreds of untouched office blocks were still inside with tables and chairs and coffee pots and printers. He could pull his mind back to the days when the building was filled with the sounds of ringing telephones and fast-talking professionals. He could still save it, the man thought, because he was the best architect East of the Atlantic. He could keep the building from falling like all the others in the war-torn city if he only had more time. The particular building in question was once one of the tallest skyscrapers in Israel's bustling metropolis of Tel Aviv, but now it was the only skyscraper left standing in the wake of the passing war. It stood like the last flower in a forest caught by a wildfire. It would burn with the rest, the only question was when.
Another man, much smaller in size, exited a lumbering mechanical crane nearby while holding onto his hard-hat so that it would not blow away with the desert winds. He walked towards the somber architect staring at his broken building.
The small man spoke. “We need an answer, Saul. The Israelis are calling us back to base within the hour and by that time we need to have finished the job." The small man pulled a thin strip of rectangular glass from his belt and held it out to Saul, still panting from his walk across the burning sands. “Does it fall or does it stay?" he asked.
The small man's hand shook as he waited for Saul to take the phone and make the ultimate decision. Saul made no move either way and continued sliding his eyes up and down the crumbling citadel as it wavered high in the sand-tossed ski
es. It was the last standing skyscraper in the city. If it fell it would signify the end of an international historical site. There would be no turning back. It could not fall, but Saul knew that it must.
“Have you ever heard the story of the Tower of Babel?" delayed Saul, asking the small man without turning his head away from the trembling building.
The small man adjusted his helmet. “No, I don’t believe I have. I’m not a religious man."
“Not many of us are these days, but you don’t have to be religious to see the irony in the message. The story started long ago," Saul began, "after The Great Flood swept across the entire planet. I'm sure you've at the very least heard of it. It was a flood that spanned the entire world, drowning most of humanity in God’s wrath, but leaving a small population that managed to find solid ground and stay alive through it all. The small group of survivors, and the generations that followed, were not crippled by the aftermath of the flood as you might expect but instead united by it. It was as though the wave of death had helped them realize the meaning of life, and in the face of extinction, they joined together into one homogenous society. They survived The Great Flood, but more importantly, they survived each other. They thrived in the wake of genocide and built a powerful and rich utopia for themselves, unconflicted by any war or disagreement or difference because they were all one and lived in such a way. It looked like paradise, this new world of theirs. It was like a refresh button had been pressed and all the evils of their ancestors were taken with the water. Each day the people of this new world grew more and more divine and holy until eventually they grew so powerful they decided they had the ability to reach God himself. They decided to build a tower: the Tower of Babel; a temple so tall that they could climb its endless steps into the heavens themselves and become one with God. They spent many years and lost many lives building this tower, intending to finalize their evolution from men to higher spiritual beings. Angels. And eventually, the tower reached the point of the empyrean."
