by Eden Wolfe
There were breaks in the Cork Town wall, crevices wide enough to look through, but not big enough for any human to squeeze into. Anna set up a little picnic space while Trudith walked over to one of the breaks in the wall. She put her face up against it, her forehead pushing against the concrete surface. When she squinted in the distance, she could see the remnants of the actual old gate. Two stone pillars that were about the height of a person. The walls extending off the gate, assuming there had been walls, were gone. Just some crumbled stone left in their place.
Trudith smiled.
She squinted some more, the sight from her one eye against the wall blurring. In that state, she could imagine women and men returning from a hunt, or from gathering wood, or an old-fashioned nuclear family out on a stroll like they might have done in the days before the Mist. Anyone who ventured out into the forest past the final Geb City limits into the forest beyond would come back this way. The village homes had been here, right where she was standing. She imagined the bustle of movement in the old village. Children running around, dust rising from the simple dirt laneways. Men cooking over a fire as women wove fabric.
She didn’t actually know the lifestyle the people then would have had. It wasn’t taught in schools. The ways of the pre-Mist peoples were a mystery to her, even though her imagination came up with colorful scenarios when she visited this place. In second level of Basics classes they were warned about “projecting current values onto the past”, the dangers of revisiting pre-Mist days. They were instructed to use their imagination for productive purposes, not wasteful re-creations of a dead history.
Trudith opened her eyes wide again and looked out at the crumbling gate. There was no doubt in her mind that the old peoples had been regular people just like them. She didn’t believe all of the stories. She couldn’t believe that everyone was as evil as their lessons made it sound. She wondered if children today still learned the same as they did those forty-odd years earlier. Perhaps their knowledge of what had come before had evolved, though Trudith doubted it. Children in Cork Town were expected to learn from their housemother. There was no schooling. They were to be taught what must be learned, and nothing more than that. She inhaled deeply, sending a wish to the old peoples.
It would have been nice to know you.
She laughed quietly at her own silliness, speaking to people who were dead hundreds of years earlier. She shook her head and turned around, expecting to see Anna and Arin playing on the grass.
Instead, her stomach dropped.
Anna and Arin were indeed there, Anna feeding Arin from a small jar. But beyond them in the distance, not far, she could make out the form of someone watching them.
A man.
11
Roman
Roman woke up to the aroma of morning already invading his brain. The smell of summer was sickly and moist in his sixth-floor flat. As soon as the sun rose, it began baking. He felt like he was opening his eyes in the oven. He touched the wall beside his bed, the wall that had a small window looking onto the Tower. The stones were already heating up.
Every summer has been the same for the last fifty years, Roman thought, I don’t know why this would be any different.
And yet somehow Roman always expected it to be different, year after year. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember how it had been the year before, but his hope was more powerful than his logical mind when he first woke in the morning.
It faded quickly with the morning light.
Even before he got out of bed, a rock was starting to form in his stomach. Today was his scheduled scan of Cork Town, almost the last thing he wanted to do. It was bad enough to be relegated to working on a simple stomach virus, but to have to do the collection himself in Cork Town was an insult. An intentional one, too. Uma took every opportunity to rub it into him.
Manual collection. By the former Great Geneticist.
He swallowed hard, trying to prevent resentment from burning up the back of his throat.
Don’t think about it, just do it, he told himself. It’s not like I have a choice in the matter. If she’s going to send me to be a manual collector of samples from the sewers of Cork Town, then I’d better just do it and get it over with. Thinking about it isn’t going to change anything.
He opened his dresser. Somehow his shirts from his time of being the Great Geneticist were breaking down faster than any he had previously owned. He did not have enough credits for new ones. He shook his head at the drawer and pulled out a short-sleeved, button-up shirt that he hoped would help him blend in Cork Town
But of course, he wouldn’t blend in Cork Town. Nobody blended in Cork Town except for those who belonged there.
Freaks, and outliers, offspring of Willing Mothers who hadn’t followed instructions during pregnancy and early days. Roman held a special disdain for the women who were gifted with the opportunity to bring life to children and yet did not take the responsibility seriously. It was like they did not know the role they played in society. Especially the young ones who came straight out of school.
Roman tossed his sampling equipment into his satchel, a standard-issue bag and not the leather sack he cherished. It was hardly appropriate for the task ahead of him.
He left his apartment, walked down the stairs, and out the front door without even noticing the ground go by under his feet. His focus was firmly on his contempt for those irresponsible Willing Mothers.
He enjoyed the taste of righteousness.
Perhaps that’s where I went wrong as the Great Geneticist. Righteousness had sat well on Lucius’ shoulders. But he had been pushing his luck all along.
Soup sellers were setting up as he walked along the main access toward Cork Town. It would take him a good couple of hours to reach the main gate at his current pace. But then again, he was in no rush. Still, he accelerated a bit.
He watched soup sellers mounting their equipment on street corners. One put up a sign demanding two credits instead of one, given that she had “the newest fortification powder”. Roman smiled. That had been his doing. He knew the fortification powder would be their saving grace. Both the East Fields and West fields simply weren’t producing sufficient quantities. Not since Elgin had hit. Without the fortification powder, Lower Earth would have been facing more problems than they already were. While it wasn’t ideal, the powder would be enough to get them through until they could solve Elgin.
Elgin. Why can’t we figure this one out? It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s nothing compared to others we have faced before.
He shook his head and then remembered that across history were written stories of simple setbacks that had changed the course of humanity.
Other signs of life popped up around him as he walked further away from the Tower. He turned around, a good half-mile down from Central Tower’s place in the city. He inhaled the sight of it. He hadn’t come this far in a long time. From the window of his flat, he could catch a glimpse of the north face of Central Tower and had always loved waking up to the mirror image of the sky upon the windows.
He inhaled deeply, glancing back at the blue sky of morning radiant in the reflection of the Tower’s west face.
From his former office, he used to be able to see into residences near and far. It was a privileged sight to watch housemothers with their ten and twelve or twenty children preparing for the day. Roman had always been one of the first to arrive in the Tower in those days. In those days, when he occupied the nineteenth floor. In those days, when he woke up with a smile already stretched across his face.
I’m romanticizing it again. Roman squeezed his fingers into a fist, the pressure pulling him out of the fantasy. It never was that good. I never was that great. I’ve got to stop romanticizing. It only makes things more miserable than they are already..
He stepped and stepped again, each step taking him closer to Cork Town, closer to his task of collecting feces in sewers. Closer to the population they had condemned to the commune’s walls. His feet felt heavy against
the asphalt and something inside him rumbled.
Alarms rang in his brain.
He knew he was nearing the time it would start; somehow he knew it was soon. But he didn’t know how to define soon.
Degradation.
It came for all of them, every man on earth. He would be no exception.
He played a mindless game with his fingers to sweep the sensation away. Thumb pressed on middle finger, thumb on index, thumb on pinkie. Repeat.
“Good morning, Geb,” Mary’s voice echoed through the streets and alleys. Roman lifted his eyes, three screens visible from his location. “May your sleep have been restful and renewing,” Mary smiled.
Roman didn’t like this new Mary. Her face and voice were the same as the others, but there was something in the eyes. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and was just as glad for it. He didn’t want to know. “Mary Management” had always been Uma’s territory.
“You will see some select soup sellers across the city today are distributing the new fortification powder in their inventory. We celebrate the Tower for this new strain of recipe! What a gift to know that you remain committed to us, researchers of Central Tower, ever steadfast in your duty, ever dedicated to combating the Elgin virus. What would we do without you?”
Roman saw her eyes open wide at her own question, her eyebrows lifting.
False, so false. All planted. I wouldn’t be surprised if this one turned out to be a sociopath, too.
“Now rise, Geb, rise to the sound of this flute and prepare for today’s positions. We give gratitude to the settlers and to the Queen as their descendant. What great benevolence we shall see from the Queen today, as she announces plans for the Settlement Day celebration. So be joyous as you prepare, friends and sisters.”
Roman let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding as Mary’s face finally disappeared from the screen. He was almost halfway now to Cork Town. The 7 a.m. announcement meant that women would soon be rising and walking past him in the street in the other direction as they headed towards the factories, the Tower, and the assembly plants towards the northern edge of the city.
Step after step, Roman’s feet grew heavier. He tried to vacate his mind and let his body lead the way, ignoring the sounds within. The flute sang on over the screens; its tune normally was Roman’s gentle alarm in the morning. But today it was shrill in his ears. He knew it was the same flute, he knew it was on its correct rotation of song for the day of the week, but something in the way the flutist was playing, something in the way the fingers didn’t seem to fully cover the holes, the slightest variation in the sound was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
No one else around him seemed to notice.
His toe caught in a small elevation of the asphalt and he tripped forward, bumping into a woman of about his age.
“Oh my goodness, what are you doing? What’s the matter with you? Get off me!”
“I’m sorry, I tripped. I - I tripped.”
“I don’t care what you think you are doing, don’t touch me.” The woman shook her head in her hands as if that would remove any stain he had left on her.
He turned to continue walking ahead, noticing that everyone around him was looking his way. But when he made eye contact with them, their eyes immediately darted and they continued as they had been.
Ignoring him.
Do any of them recognize me? Do they remember who I am? Who I used to be?
The women’s faces gave no sign of it
“Careful, children, let’s cross here.”
Roman looked up to see a housemother with a group of children in tow, moving to the other side of the street. It was obvious that she was trying to avoid having to walk beside him.
Do they think I’m diseased?
The housemother stared at Roman. He felt as though he were some sort of animal. Her eyes were like spears hunting him as he moved.
The children had all crossed to the other side, and Roman stayed his course, still feeling her eyes on him.
He opened his satchel to make sure everything was still there. He did not want to find himself at Cork Town’s entry only to have left his implements behind. He opened his identification folder. Central Tower ID badge indicating he was a researcher. A regular researcher. He inspected the photo on it. His eyes had deep dark circles underneath them. He looked stunned. In fact, he had been stunned. The picture had been taken the very day he had been demoted. No wonder he looked like a deer about to be shot.
He stuffed the folder underneath his equipment. He did not want to look at himself for a second longer.
The city’s concrete apartment blocks slowly began to space out, the alleys becoming wider and green spaces more frequent on street corners with benches where older women in particular had come to watch the city begin its day. Populations not actively employed in the city had been moved into flats further out from the working center of town. It was good for everyone. More quiet for children and older residents; easier access to work sites for those of professional age.
A couple of green spaces were occupied with housemothers as playground equipment was crawled over by children laughing and squealing on bars and swings. Smiles and light laughter echoed up into the morning air.
He carried on, the apartment blocks ending altogether, a few industrial sites the only sign of the city’s continuing borders.
In front of him, the Cork Town entry came into sight.
“Good morning,” one of the Queen’s guards spoke to him at the checkpoint without making eye contact. “Purpose for entry into Cork Town?”
“Official business,” Roman replied.
“Identification papers, please.” The guard held out her hand without looking up from her clipboard.
Roman rolled his eyes. “I know you need to see them, but you do recognize me, don’t you?”
“A passing familiarity,” she replied, still not looking up from the clipboard.
Roman wondered if Irene had instructed her guards on how he was to be treated across the city. He wouldn’t be surprised. Irene had certainly made no effort to hide her contempt for him.
“Here you go,” he handed over his papers and gave a sardonic smile.
“Roman of the first line,” the guard read out loud, “Do you hereby accept responsibility for all actions you shall take once you cross into the Cork Town commune?”
“Indeed.”
“Please answer yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“And do you acknowledge your personal responsibility to report any misgivings, any concerning behavior, or any untoward advances you may experience while within Cork Towns walls?”
“Untoward advances?”
“Answer yes or no, please.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“According to your authorization, you have until day’s end to complete your activities and depart the Cork Town walls.”
“You think I want to stay any longer than that?”
The guard shrugged, “Everybody has their own motives.”
“Yes, well, fine. No problem. I will be out before the checkpoint closes.”
“Fine. Please sign here.” The guard pursed her lips and pushed a large registry in his direction with more force than Roman thought was necessary.
Another guard standing behind the welcoming guard poked her head out from the kiosk. “Hey, we’ll be watching you.”
Roman laughed. “You want to watch me collecting samples from the sewers??”
“Sewers? You are collecting from the sewers?” She made eye contact with the other guard and gave a low chuckle. “Well, let’s not keep you from official business then. But just be advised, sewers or not, you are under watch.”
“So noted,” Roman replied. “I wish all guards took their roles so seriously. Heaven knows what might happen in the sewers.” Roman walked away quickly feeling their eyes on him as he left. He didn’t care if they followed him all the way through Cork Town, it would only be a waste of thei
r own time.
Let them look. If I were them, I would be looking, too.
Cork Town was quiet, but from everything he’d heard it had been that way since the clear-out took place. The women mostly kept to themselves. And it was just as well.
Given the Queen’s lack of particular interest in them, they are probably right to keep their heads down.
Roman didn’t want to think about what might happen if Queen Ariane ever got a hint of an uprising happening in Cork Town. He shook away the thought.
They wouldn’t dare. Not now, not after everything.
He bent down, held his breath, and opened the first sewer grate in the market area.
The area was vacant; markets in general were rare these days even in the main city center. It made sense that it would be even more accentuated in Cork Town. If there are no vegetables or grains to sell, then why hold a market at all?
He obtained the first sample and dropped the airtight container into the biologicals sack. He made sure it was properly tucked away in his satchel, no risk of contamination. When he looked up, a girl was standing in front of him. He didn’t know where she came from. She hadn’t been there before. In fact, he hadn’t seen a girl since he first stepped into Cork Town.
But there she was, staring at him, her lip curled and her nose wrinkled.
“Hello,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Hi,” She replied.
He waited a moment longer before making a move to step away. He took a large step to his left, intending to walk around the girl, but she also stepped in the same direction, staying in front of him and preventing him from advancing. He looked around. The girl did not seem to belong to anyone. He moved to the right and again she followed the mirror image.
He cocked his head at her and she smiled.
“Are you playing with me?” he asked.
