by Eden Wolfe
“Are you playing with me?” she repeated back at him.
“I’m afraid I have business to do,” he put his hands on his hips.
“I’m afraid I have business to do,” she said, putting her hands on her hips as well.
Roman smiled and sighed, and she giggled.
“Nita! Get away from there. What do you think you’re doing there, bothering that – that,” the woman narrowed her eyes, “that man.”
“Nothing, Jean,” the girl shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not doing nothing.” She turned back to Roman and leaned in toward him. “Boo.”
“Boo?”
She lowered her voice further as the housemother started marching over, “Boo hoo, boo hoo, men are dying, boys are too.” The girl turned and ran to the woman, hiding behind her.
“Sorry about that,” the woman said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. “It’s a song the children sing while jumping rope. It doesn’t mean anything.”
With that, the woman grabbed the wrist of the girl and dragged her down the next alleyway.
Roman pursed his lips. Whether or not the child meant it was beside the point. It was true.
He carried on through the market area, briefly catching a glimpse of a face that peeked out from one of the crumbling buildings around it. Roman was sure it was a man’s face. He continued out a few different alleyways, pulling water samples as he went.
Everyone avoided him.
The gravel poked at his knees and after the third sample he noticed a small hole forming on his trousers.
“Dammit,” he said as he tried to smooth the fabric and he heard a curtain being pulled shut. He let out a sigh. This avoidance treatment was getting tiresome. He called out to the window, “What do you think I’m going to do?” He could vaguely make out a form of the person behind it. “I’m just doing my job.” He got no response from the curtain. Not that he was really expecting one.
Roman reached a little park that was primarily composed of cacti and crumbly asphalt. He wasn’t far from Lucius’ old place, though he didn’t want to remember that now. What could he do, go visit the empty apartment? Likely it had been re-inhabited by another member of the commune. Though these days they could have their choice. If nothing else, the clear out made for more available real estate.
He laughed quietly to himself.
Real estate, right. Crumbling four-story buildings stuffed with one-bedroom flats that wouldn’t stand up to any of the Geb building standards.
His shoulder was starting to ache. The satchel was already getting heavy with the samples, even though he knew objectively that it was not very heavy at all. He didn’t have the same functional strength he once had. He sat carefully on a bench of cracking wood and took out his sandwich from the separated pocket. No risk of it being contaminated by the samples. The thought made him gag.
He hadn’t taken more than one bite when he got the feeling again that someone was watching him. He looked up. There was no sign or cause for alarm. In the distance, he heard some water rushing, likely the small canal that ran through Cork Town, or perhaps another sewer for him to test. He looked around spinning on the broken bench to look behind him. Two women with a waddling child were walking along the far side of the park, heading in the opposite direction from the center of Cork Town.
Odd, he thought, there isn’t any reason to go that way. It’s the end of town.
The child turned around then, making eye contact with Roman. The child’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at the sight of a man eating a sandwich on a bench. The eyes flashed, Roman was sure of it.
Something in those eyes.
He recognized the aberration but couldn’t specifically place it.
That was not just any child.
Or is it? Is it just that I haven’t been exposed to more Cork Town outliers?
The answer resounded in his brain. This had nothing to do with exposure to outliers or genetically modified facial features.
While his rational mind couldn’t be sure, his instinct was clear. There was something very unusual about this child.
He followed the women.
He didn’t know what he would do, didn’t know what he was looking for. He didn’t know what he would say to them. But none of that mattered.
The scientific curiosity that had been his motivation for joining Central Tower in the first place took over. He couldn’t accept not knowing. He had to know.
They reached the end of the main city limits, and Roman hid, half-covered by a last building before the land flattened into ruins of the old city.
He watched as one woman, younger, spread out a blanket. The older one lifted the toddler and set the child upon it. Her arms were delicate and ginger, slowing as the child’s feet touched the blanket. There was no physical deformation in the child, from what he could tell.
The younger woman settled in with the child on the blanket. The older woman hobbled towards the last wall of Cork Town. It had been erected during the time of the last Queen, when she had created the commune as a separate administrative entity. Before that, there had been free movement between Cork Town and Geb.
At the time, it had seemed natural to have genetic outliers working in the Tower, mingling amongst them. Now, with the division, Roman realized that the separation, too, had become natural.
He wondered at their ability to adapt, to close off whole populations of people, and accept it as necessary fact.
The child was dressed in standard-issue garments, nothing unusual in its appearance that way. But Roman wasn’t ready to give up yet. Something had caught his attention and he had come this far. He had every right to question them. He was there as an agent of Central Tower. It was within his responsibilities even, arguably. Though certainly Uma would take issue with him saying that anything fell into his realm of responsibility without her prior approval.
He stepped out from behind the building and waited. He didn’t know what the right moment would be, but when the time was right he would know it. The scene was provincial. A Willing Mother playing with a child. Except that he knew there was no such thing as Willing Mothers in Cork Town.
Can’t trust that kind of duty to a genetic outlier. After all, just look at how those in the city center struggle to manage it.
Judging by the tenderness and knowing hand with which the younger woman cleaned the child’s face and fed it, Roman surmised that she was the primary caregiver. As for the older woman, he couldn’t quite place her, even if there was something quite familiar about her.
Then again, there was something familiar in all their faces. That had been the point of the Directive. A slice of royal blood through them all. He rested his hands on his hips waiting and watching the older woman who appeared to be giggling to herself through the wall.
Is she mad? It’s possible. She is in Cork Town.
The older woman turned, locking eyes with him. Her face froze in stoic horror.
No, Roman thought. She is not mad at all.
They stood with their eyes locked for what felt like a very long time before the woman marched straight at him.
Roman set his shoulders back and steeled himself. He had no idea what was coming next.
12
Trudith
Trudith’s heart was beating in her chest and she felt electricity running down her arms. She was ready to go on the offensive. She got closer and called out at him, “What is it? What do you want?”
She didn’t know that she had it in her to be violent, but she was feeling something intense boiling up in her and her hands curled into fists against her will. She observed the change in herself and realized she was beginning to understand something of what they talked about in the old textbooks: mother’s instinct.
“So, what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything,” the man replied. His eyes softened but his shoulders remained in place. Hands on his hips and his weight was cocked to one side as if he owned the place.
“Well, t
hen what are you doing just staring at us like that? It’s not proper. It’s not right. You’re not even supposed to be here. This is no place for Geb City folks.”
“Actually, I am supposed to be here,” the man said, shifting his weight to the other side.
Trudith narrowed her eyes.
He’s bluffing, or something.
She couldn’t quite figure out what was going on with him.
“Well, if you are supposed to be here, then what are you doing spying on us like that, huh? We’re just a couple of women out with a child on a picnic. There’s nothing against the rules in that,” she tapped her foot.
The man’s eyes relaxed and his lips curled a little bit at the corners.
“Then why are you being so defensive about it?” he said in a voice that Trudith thought was more inquisitive than confrontational.
Who is this man? I’d best just treat him the way I treat all the guards. Maybe then he’ll back off. He must have better things to do than tracking a couple of women around. That is work for the Queen’s Guard. And he is no Guard.
“Well,” she continued, “You can imagine it is kind of strange-like for us to see someone of your - type - here. A man in normal form isn’t a common sight in Cork Town these days. It’s enough to make a woman a touch defensive.”
“And the child?” the man asked.
Trudith felt her throat tighten. “What about the child? The child belongs to us. It is our child now. The child was delegated to us through the common procedure. We even have the papers for it. Do you want to see our papers?” Trudith felt her voice going up in pitch, and knew she had to bring it back down. “If it’s papers that you’re looking for then we can provide you with papers. That’s no problem,” she added, “Sir.”
The man laughed.
Trudith felt sweat forming on her forehead. “What did I say?”
“No, nothing,” the man said, “It’s just no one has called me sir in a long time.”
“What do they call you then?”
“They call me Roman.”
“Roman?” Trudith felt faint. “Roman the Great Geneticist?” She couldn’t believe her bad luck. Wasn’t she just earlier musing about how lucky they were to still have the authorization papers, and before her now was possibly the only person in all of Lower Earth who could see through them? Call the papers out as the fakes they were?
Roman sighed, “I suppose you didn’t recognize my face.”
Trudith shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I never much saw your face. I was never one for the screens, and these,” she pointed at her eyes, “don’t work so well.” She looked behind her and could see the panic in Anna’s eyes. Trudith lifted her hand in a little gesture that she hoped would show she had everything under control.
Even though she felt far from it.
“Who’s she?” the man nodded in Anna’s direction.
“A friend. Another genetic outlier. She belongs here.”
The man, Roman of the first line, the former Great Geneticist, was standing right before her, moving his glance between Trudith and Anna. Trudith blinked and blinked again. Anything to keep down the acid burning in her stomach.
Roman straightened his shirt. “This is an odd place for women to congregate with a child. Unsafe, even. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No, sir.”
“You’d better stop with this ‘sir’ business now. I’m not going to get used to it.”
“This is a perfectly natural place to play with the child. The ruins are welcoming.” Trudith wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to explain, and her one foot was starting to quiver so she shifted her weight to the other foot, but her leg buckled under the weight. Roman lunged forward in time to catch her.
“Sorry, sorry. These legs serve me well, even if they don’t operate as well as most others.”
Although Roman was holding her in his arms. He was looking at Anna. She followed his gaze.
He’s not looking at Anna. He’s looking at Arin.
Roman righted Trudith and then walked straight over to the blanket, where Anna was holding Arin even closer to her chest.
Say the right thing, Anna. Trudith willed the thought in her direction. Just be normal. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t let anything on at all...
“What do you want? Get away, get away from us!”
Trudith felt her rib cage squeezing her lungs in.
So much for acting normal.
“Let me see the child.”
“No! You can’t see...her.”
“I’m not going to hurt it.”
Why does he keep referring to the child as an ‘it’? Does he know? How could he tell? Then again, this is the former Great Geneticist. Who knows what powers he has?
Trudith began hobbling over. “It’s okay, Anna. I was having a fine chat with Roman here. Did you know this is Roman, the former Great Geneticist?” Trudith nodded her head again trying to communicate through the air at Anna’s face, which was stuck in a look somewhere between horror and rage.
She’s feeling fight or flight, Trudith thought. Either one is going to cause us great difficulties.
“You need to pass me the child,” Roman said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt it. I’m going to give it right back to you.”
“No. No, you can’t have...” Anna whispered. “Please, please.” But she was already slowly lifting Arin in Roman’s direction. Arin’s face showed his curiosity, his little head cocked to one side as he neared a man, possibly the first man he had ever seen in his life.
Roman reached his arms out, firmly and confidently grasping Arin around the trunk.
“Why, hello,” he spoke in a gentle voice.
“Hello,” Arin replied.
Anna’s shoulders were lifting up and down quickly and Trudith hoped she wouldn’t hyperventilate.
“And what’s your name, little one,” he lifted his eyebrows and looked at Anna.
Anna’s voice was hardly audible, “Arin of the first line.”
Roman looked again at Arin. “Arin. Nice to meet you Arin.”
Arin’s eyes narrowed, unsure.
Roman smiled at him and held him with one arm while the other ran down from Arin’s head to his arm, down his leg with such tenderness that Trudith stopped approaching and observed. Roman felt around Arin’s torso moving around to the side, then bringing his hand up, cupping Arin’s head in gentle evaluation.
Can he feel it? Is he that much of a genius that he can feel what’s happening inside the child’s body? Or are his observations not yet finished...
Just as she thought it, Roman lifted the little yellow dress and Trudith gasped.
“Are you ticklish, Arin?” Roman wiggled his fingers along Arin’s sides, around the diaper that gave nothing away of what was hidden inside it. Arin smiled and then laughed and laughed and laughed. Such unencumbered, unembarrassed, and unafraid laughter.
Arin’s eyes flashed brown with the joy of it all.
Maybe this isn’t anything like we thought. Maybe Roman wasn’t looking for us at all.
Not a moment after she thought it, Roman adjusted Arin’s body, pulling just gently at the waistband of the cover over the diaper, and setting him down on his feet. Trudith froze. Nothing moved for what felt like a very long time. Finally, Roman lifted his head, looking sharply at Arin’s face, then to Anna, then to Trudith.
He knows.
The truth of Arin’s birth. The secret laid out for anyone to see, should they know where to look.
Roman looked back down at Arin.
Anna was frozen. Even Arin seems to have stopped breathing in wait.
Trudith’s hands turned into fists. She would rip Roman’s throat out if she had to. She would gouge his eyes and tear out his intestines. She prepared herself for whatever violence might be necessary to protect Arin.
Roman looked up at Trudith.
I dare you. Just make one wrong move.
Trudith’s posture adjusted, she was ready to pounce.
“I can help you.”
13
Daphna
Daphna crossed through the village, passing by the river that ran from the end of Rainfields through all the Strangelands. So long the river had been underground that even the early maps of Lower Earth rarely captured it.
She could make out the silhouette of the cabin up on the hill where once had lived a future queen. No one had really known her, not until she’d taken the throne.
Ariane had been a mystery. They hadn’t even known her name.
It wasn’t until just a few years earlier when Daphna saw her face in Geb on the balcony over the crowds that she finally understood how it was that the Sisters had been caretakers of the girl. Many didn’t believe it was the same child who had lived amongst them. For she had never really been amongst them. Present, but always separate. Always off away in that hut. Always off-limits.
She sighed as she let her eyes rest on the cabin longer than she intended. The story had always felt tragic to her, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on why.
She’d hoped that Ariane, now Queen Ariane, would have taken a greater interest in the well-being of the Sisters, given their history, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Ariane had been more prisoner than Sister.
Her disdain is perhaps not misplaced. But if only she would say the word, I’m sure that the Tower would have made this virus a priority.
If only Gale hadn’t vanished just as she’d fallen ill. They could have studied her safely. Found the cause of the illness before it had spread. If only Gale hadn’t spoken quite so loudly against the Queen. If only Gale hadn’t been disappeared...
The day that Gale had fallen ill was etched in Daphna’s mind. The way she had writhed on the bedplate, blood on her lip from where she had bitten through it trying to manage the pain. Her hair matted with sweat.
Daphna shook her head and reached the makeshift bridge across the river. To the untrained eye, it looks just like a log or two that had happened to catch during their journey along the currents.
