by Eden Wolfe
"What is he doing?" Sara asked.
"I have no idea." Adam had heard no word of any new programs, nor setbacks. His stomach knotted.
"Today at what will be a special Tuesday Briefing you will learn some troubling news. I won't go into the details here," he paused. "That is for the Queen to tell. However, there will be a role for us, a new role and duties that we must take up for the good of our country, for our future. Our work is not simply to further society. Our work is to preserve society, protect our way of life, and lead us all into a future where we can be certain of survival."
"What on earth has happened," Adam muttered.
"Make your way to the main square for the briefing at the required time. You will be told more in due course at our assembly tomorrow."
"I'm going up there."
"I'm coming with you."
Roman’s door was open and they saw Isaac's back, sitting across from Roman's desk, his posture unreadable from behind.
Roman stood, not saying a word. They all waited.
Sara broke the silence. "Well?"
Isaac swiveled in the chair. "There's no use. He's not telling."
Adam and Sara turned to Roman, who shrugged. "It's not for me to tell."
Sara lifted her hands, incredulous. "And that's it?"
A voice spoke up from the back of the room, "That's it. Don't you get it? This is all coming from a place much higher up than any of us."
They all turned to find Archer leaning in the corner, near the window that faced the rear of Central Tower. None of them had seen him there when they walked in. Archer looked yellow, his eyes dark and his shoulders pulled forward. His voice was weak and rough.
Adam knew what this meant. The Queen's hand made this happen, whatever this was. He walked toward Roman, noting that Roman's nostrils were flared, despite his attempt to stand tall and strong.
He's in a delicate state.
"Okay, okay, Roman, we get it. We would have liked to get the news early, that's all," he smiled, trying to be charming, trying to be nonchalant, "You know where to find us when the time comes."
"Yes. In the meantime, you all have important work you should be doing."
But no one could move just yet. Roman had always been set apart, but a torrent had grown between them and him, a boundary they couldn’t cross. Adam read the room and saw this was not a battle they should take on. Not now.
"You heard the man.” Adam put on the smile again. "Let's get out of here and let the boss think."
Isaac lifted himself out of the chair and moved toward the door. "Yep, lots of important work. And I'm guessing more important work is coming our way after today's special briefing."
Roman didn’t try to hide his relief. He offered a quick, not-quite-genuine smile. "Later," was all he could get out.
The door shut behind Adam, Sara, and Isaac as they moved toward the elevator.
"And now?" Adam said, hushed.
Isaac jumped in, "We don't have long."
"We really don't."
"I'll make arrangements for early disclosure of 4957. We'll have to induce," Sara took a deep breath.
“Today?”
“Today.”
They all agreed in silence.
With no more words, they walked in a trance to their desks, looking out the window into the square as the first wave of the crowd was met by the second and third, none of them expecting anything different from this Tuesday briefing. None of them with any hint to what was going to happen in the Tower. Adam saw Sara bite her lower lip.
"It is now or never," she said, expressionless. "I was always pretty sure that we were as good as dead."
Archer turned to a small chair in the corner of Roman’s office once the others had left and let his weight fall into it. He felt Roman's eyes on him. He knew he looked ill, but he didn’t care. It had taken everything he had in him just to get out of the apartment. For the rest, he just didn’t care. Another set of judging eyes made no difference now.
"Are you just going to sit there?"
"For now." Archer couldn’t meet his eyes. His stomach turned.
"You do as you will. I have a lot to prepare before the briefing." Roman paused. A wave of something gentler came across his face. He waited, said nothing, and then left.
Archer let out his breath, at last, the drama of the morning catching up. It was like only half his brain was working. But even so, the weight of everything settled on his chest as questions flooded in.
The same questions. Always the same questions.
Why? Is there any answer to how a man can be so manipulated? Is there no right or wrong in this earth, just two shades of wrong for a simple moment of right? It was so fleeting, had felt right, but it’s left behind so much wrong.
Was there really ever any choice in it anyhow? Any of it?
Something moved.
The space below the wooden cabinet moved. Archer was sure he saw it.
My eyes play tricks on me. Again. I cannot trust myself anymore.
He shook his head.
Not enough sleep. Or water. I must be dehydrated.
It moved again. Then the curtain top was waving though there was no breeze in the room.
"I'm hallucinating," he said out loud. "I need water." Archer looked around the office but there was no sink, no spout, nothing. Just the silent office writhing around him.
He rubbed his eyes.
When he removed his hands, she was in front of him. Eye to eye their noses almost touched. He turned away from the mirage.
But she was there too. They were both there, the dead and beautiful Arianes he had held in his arms as they bled.
She's looking into me, into my heart, my weak heart, oh heavens, such a weak heart. I must tell her, even if she is only a ghost. I have to explain why I did what I did.
He opened his mouth but no sound would come out. It was stuck in his gut, retching on the inside. They circled him, close, speeding up, he saw nothing but whirls of color. They were too close and too fast. He felt her brush against his arm, the back of his leg with another one of hers, she was there, they were there, and they were surrounding him. He felt as though he were dead alongside them. They danced this sick silent dead dance. He felt their blood again oozing down his arm, shifting the hairs, resting thick, old burgundy wine on his skin.
Gliding across the floor in a dead girl waltz, he looked out the windows to the west where groups of people started to gather, preparing for the special briefing though it was still hours away. He couldn’t bear to see the crowds as he hallucinated above them. He felt the heat of their dead bodies against him, but couldn’t seem to snap himself out of it.
Look at them down there. They know nothing, these people. Nothing of regret, the taunting of the past. Nothing about the workings of our world. Nothing.
He could almost feel their breath on him, but he knew ghosts didn’t breathe. He turned, aiming himself away from the square, anywhere else that he could be alone with his hauntings. Away from the rising tides of voices gathering for the announcement.
He moved across the office, falling into their bodies, his memory of their bodies. Rebounding, back erect, their rubber dead bodies soft as he fell against them. He tried to set his eyes, to focus a little more, but his head was spinning faster than time. He opened his mouth again, but still no sound came. The ghosts remained silent as they whirred around him.
They are too close. I can't see them. Let me just rest my eyes on them one more time. Maybe they will understand if they can see it in my eyes.
He saw an ear, a lip, a cheek. Felt her breath, sweet and cool air on his neck, and then the other one breathed against his cheek. He took in the sensation but their breathing suffocated him, and he stumbled against the window on the other side. They had danced the length of the office. At least below this side of the Tower, there was no one, no voices, no little heads busily rushing about. Below was quiet, abandoned.
Just a little air, more air, I can't breathe in this mad
ness.
They pressed up against him as he half opened the window, his body feeling their bodies. His body betrayed him, their bodies pushed against him. He didn’t understand the rush happening within him; this unused place that was so long dead suddenly coming alive, pushing against them. He felt his head would explode, he was going to be sick. Sick with shame. Their bodies and his body and their burning heat against him. He saw nothing but her eye, one eye, and then four eyes across his face, their heads touching side by side. He couldn’t bear it another second, their beautiful brown eyes with broken glass green cutting into him.
Not another second. Don’t look at me. Don’t make me feel. Not for another second.
He turned, climbed the window, and fell with relief to his death. His body broke into a mound between the dumpsters below.
51
Lucy
Lucy had slept well, despite her belly always seeming to be in the way.
She was still relatively small, certainly smaller than many of the women she had seen carrying around the city. Even so, she felt the little being's movements every moment of the day. Even its heartbeat seemed to echo in her head.
As she lay down to sleep, she tossed and turned, talking to the little one, humming and getting lost in thought until a rumble reminded her that they were two in the bed.
"Now, now, little one, what are you doing in there, tickling me from the inside?" she giggled, high pitched and worry-free. It had been, even by Lower Earth standards, an incredibly easy pregnancy. Nearly from the moment it was inside her, Lucy had felt a kind of peace. It wasn't just emotional, it was physiological, and her body responded with jubilance. Her skin was clearer, her back was stronger, her legs carried her tall. The horror stories she'd heard of raging hormones and swollen feet, sleepless nights, and cramping had bypassed her completely. It was only the fact of having a tummy larger than she was used to that prevented her from sleeping like, well, a baby.
She was fascinated. It was nothing like she expected, somehow. Despite all the news, the stories people told, and the leaflets she read in school - somehow when she was lying in bed and heard the sound of that life inside, she felt like she was a part of something bigger. It was only four months of pregnancy to endure and then she’d have played her part in society. So what if she hadn’t passed her exams? Seventeen was a viable age to be a Willing Mother.
"Can you see that sky, little one?"
The sun rose deep red. Lucy let her eyes rest on it until it burned too much to keep looking.
"It is beautiful." She blinked but the burn of the sun stayed in her vision. Laying on the little sofa, she let herself drift off to a dreamless nap.
The doorbell rang.
Lucy started. She didn't know what time it was.
She was greeted by a woman with dark hair and dark green eyes, who smiled hesitantly. The woman looked nervous.
“Hi, Are you Lucy, Lucy of the Crynal rating?”
“Crynal, yes.” No one else had used that term except Doctor Easom.
The woman smiled, visibly more at ease.
“I'm Sara of the seventh line. From the Tower. I'm going to need you to get dressed as we have discovered some complications with your pregnancy.”
“You come here... you make house calls for testing?”
Lucy was confused, but perhaps this was all part of the process. It was true that she had never asked how they would be in communication with her. The calendar on the fridge had made no mention of these tests.
“Not tests, Lucy. It’s time. You need to give birth today.”
Sara’s brain madly sought the right words.
Find the right thing to say, come on. Make the girl, this exceptionally young girl, feel at ease.
Lucy had to be completely confident in Sara's hands. If she suspected anything was unusual, she might go to the clinic and inquire, or worse. Sara gave a gentle smile with as much authenticity as she could pull together.
“I know this is surprising.” She let her face grow solemn. “But we fear for your health and the health of the child. You could be in imminent danger.”
Lies, they needed to collect pre-birth samples and then induce. Sara hoped she lied as well to teenagers as she did to adults. “Can you be ready in ten minutes? I can wait.”
“Yes. Yes, sure.”
In a bit of a daze, Lucy turned and exited the room. Sara let herself into the neatly-arranged though small apartment and closed the door behind her. The seconds felt like hours. Finally, Lucy emerged and slid her feet into sandals, opening the door and leading the way out, trance-like.
"Thank you, Lucy, I understand this was unforeseen."
“The clinic is that way,” Lucy pointed in the opposite direction from where Sara was leading her.
“This needs to be done elsewhere, Lucy.” Sara took in a deep breath. “The clinic is not prepared for the special needs of this delivery. Did Doctor Easom explain to you that you have the Crynal phenotype?”
“Of course, that's my ID.”
“Yes, but did she explain that as a result you carry additional risk?”
Lucy visibly tried to remember. After a moment she lifted her head. "Doctor Easom never said risk. Never. Special, that was the word she used. And select."
"All that is true, Lucy." They continued walking.
"And - " Lucy stopped.
Sara's breathing was shallow. They were on a tight timeline. She needed the girl to walk.
"And what, Lucy?"
"She said I was never supposed to do this. As in, any of this." Lucy stepped ahead with more conviction than she'd had before. "Let's go."
Sara tried not to smile with relief.
“You can trust me, Lucy. This is what's best for you and for the baby. Because you have selected this route, there are additional consequences. But be assured, this is for all of Lower Earth. You chose this, you recall?”
“Yes.”
“It's going to be okay. That's why I'm here. We're going to the seventh floor of Central Tower.”
“Okay, right.” It looked as though Lucy might say something more, but she didn’t. Sara heard her muttering quietly to herself but could only pick out a couple of words.
"Naïve. I knew it."
They walked swiftly through the streets of Geb. Mary’s face was alit on the screens for the entire mile-and-a-half long journey.
"And so this campaign will begin within forty-eight hours.” Mary’s voice was more shrill than usual. “The Queen will tell you all. Come to the square for the emergency Tuesday Briefing in just over one hour," the screen blared. "We will be more numerous, we must! At last, we have the rallying cry to increase our world, to reclaim all that was ours before the Mist! We are all a part of this, the changing human landscape. Be on time, do not delay," Mary tilted her head forward toward the camera, "Your attendance is essential."
Lucy looked over at Sara.
“Don’t worry, we have an exception. We’re almost there.”
Thousands of people were on the move, heading towards the main square. Everyone was pressed shoulder to shoulder; the streets weren’t wide enough to take the human traffic. Sounds blared out the screens in a cacophony that at once put the crowd on edge and also somehow kept them contained. Mothers held their children's hands high so that they didn't get separated in the orderly but uncontrolled channel.
Lucy took Sara’s arm. Sara searched across the faces for someone familiar, anyone who might see them and report, but the mass of people became denser the closer they got to the Tower. All dark-haired women of average to tall height. No one stood out. The Direction had become the norm - Sara could see it across the moving mass of women.
She let them be pulled along by the crowd, everyone was heading towards the Main City Square. They could duck out just before and enter Central Tower mostly unnoticed.
Sara had never seen the streets like this before.
They wove their way through different lanes of desks, mostly empty as the historic Tuesday Briefing
had most staff already out of the Tower and milling in the streets. Sara tried to look natural. They were largely ignored by anyone they passed.
If anyone asks questions, she is simply Lucy of 4968, a test case that required mild modifications, a normal review at this stage.
Anyone who looked at the file would see the same, and they would be dismissed. Normal behavior.
And all lies.
Sara calmed her breathing. She had to be absolutely sure of herself now, to put this child-with-child at ease. It was true, Lucy is the best hope they had, but Sara had never liked it when they took girls this young into the program.
She isn't a Willing Woman. Lucy with the Crynal phenotype is barely more than a girl. Easom would have seen that, seen the ID, and chosen to forget her age. Too valuable, too special. Too opportunistic, that Lydia Easom.
Sara shrugged it off. She and the others had to deal with the reality at hand, not the one they wished they had. If they didn't induce in the right conditions then there was the chance it wouldn't make it. If they waited, it might be too late. They’d be discovered.
They arrived at the laboratory, sterile and well-placed behind all the other labs. This was the least used, the least accessed. Sara could see Lucy was once again doubtful. But this windowless defunct room at the end of an unused hall alone made it the perfect place.
Adam and Isaac had set it up in relative privacy, just "doing Sara a favor" when asked what they were doing.
"Hi Lucy," Isaac squeezed out of clenched lips as they entered. The light layer of sweat on his brow was disconcerting. He'd been edging towards a heart attack for years. Or maybe worse – physical degradation.
God, don't let him keel over now. Sara touched the lava amulet, an involuntary reaction conditioned from childhood.
Lucy took a very slow step forward, seemingly surprised to see men. She looked back at Sara.
Adam stepped forward. "Lucy, my name is Adam Lane. You're going to put on this gown in the adjacent anteroom while we finish setting up the equipment here." He handed her the folded gown and waited for her to respond.
