by Ike Hamill
“Nothing,” he says. He starts to pack up. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, I’m sure of it. That means he’s just leaving to get away from me.
“I know your father,” I say, trying to prolong the conversation.
That doesn’t make him slow down. He speeds up. I’ve spooked him.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ve known him since we were little kids, but I’ve never met you. Maybe you’ve seen a picture of me? My name is Dennis?”
He’s already gone.
I’m sitting there, watching him flee. I wonder if he’ll even show up to geology again. I think I may have frightened him.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I whirl around.
“Vanessa?” What the hell?
She pulls her hand back at my expression. “Hey,” she says. “It’s okay. He’ll figure it out.”
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“I’m in this class,” she says. She points to the back of the room. “I usually sit back there. You asked me for a pen one day. You don’t remember?”
It seems absurd that I wouldn’t have recognized her. Then again, she does look pretty different when she’s wearing real clothes.
“How did you get here?”
“I live here,” she says. “I finally made the transition back, and I’ve been studying for my BS.”
“Oh.”
I don’t trust her. It can’t be a coincidence that she goes to the same college as me, and it happens to be the school that’s right around the corner from my apartment.
I see concern spreading across her face as she reads mine.
“I’m not stalking you or anything,” she says. “Honestly, I knew about this neighborhood because of you, but everything after that is a coincidence. I’ve seen you on the street a couple of times, when you were searching for your brother. I thought you had seen me. I thought you were okay that I lived in the neighborhood.”
“Honestly, I didn’t know.” I sit back in my chair.
She comes around and sits down next to me.
“Why geology?” she asks.
I don’t answer. I only slump down a little more.
“Are you just here to watch him?”
I look up at her.
“People know,” she says. “A few people have noticed. This class is too boring. One of the girls figured out that you two are related. She thinks that you’re his real father and you’ve come here to tell him in person.”
She pauses. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell anyone that you’re his uncle.”
“How did you know?”
She smiles. “Emily told me.”
For fuck’s sake—people say it’s a small world, but I know for a fact that it’s not true. How is it that everyone knows each other? The question must show on my face.
“There are a lot of people in the world, but there are relatively few who have traveled beyond Earth,” she says. “It’s not surprising that we can recognize each other, is it? Or that we cross paths more often than not?”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Everything is impossible. The way she puts it, it’s perfectly rational. What am I even doing here?
“I heard about you before I saw you for the first time. I knew it would be you though,” she says.
I tilt my head. What’s she talking about?
“The students respect you. I can tell because they took the time to nickname you. Most older people don’t warrant any scrutiny at all. If they notice you, it’s because they respect you.”
“None of these kids has ever said two words to me,” I say.
She nods. “You have to understand, they’re trying to spread their wings and become real people. You were at that place once, you’ve just forgotten. When you’re with your parents, anything mature you try to say is instantly seen as precocious or adorable. Then, when you get out on your own for the first time, you’re striving to be an actual person. You can’t do that while you have this perceived gulf between you and fully-formed adults, so they don’t perceive it. They ignore anyone over twenty-five.”
“You said they talk to you,” I say.
“No,” she laughs. “I’ve gotten good at listening without being talked to. They tolerate me. There’s a big difference.”
I don’t care about these kids. I care about one particular one, but I don’t think her theories on college students is going to help me understand my nephew.
I start to pack up my stuff. Her face changes. I realize how rude I’ve been to her.
“How did you end up on Higg?” I ask.
She looks down.
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t have anything until three.”
“I’m not sure I have the energy for that story today,” she says. “But do you want to grab some lunch?”
To tell the truth, I ate before the class. To tell the truth, I’m not one for socializing anymore. I mostly keep to myself. I study, watch TV, listen to the radio, and come to classes. I don’t socialize.
“Sure,” I say.
---- * ----
I always thought this place was a teacher’s lounge, but that was my own stupidity. Now that I think of it, I don’t even think they have teacher’s lounges here. Why would they? Everyone lives and works together in this atmosphere. In this little cafeteria, there are a few tables and a couple of vending machines. Vanessa and I manage to put together a decent lunch from what’s at hand.
We’re practically the only people there. One older woman is sitting in the corner, reading a magazine.
Vanessa lets me have the seat that faces the door.
“It has been a tough transition,” she says. She’s using a plastic knife to cut up an apple we found on the carousel.
“Why’s that? Civilization is supposed to be easier than the wilderness, isn’t it?”
Vanessa shrugs. “I don’t know. Out there, everything was focused on survival. There were only a couple of things to worry about each day. Here, we’ve lowered the stakes of all the basics, but we’ve compounded the complexity. I don’t know.”
She hands me a piece of apple. I open the sandwich we chose and give her half.
“So why stay? Can’t get enough of geology?”
She gives me a quick smile that fades fast.
“We’re all coming back,” she says. She leans in very close to say this, like it’s a secret. “The Grids will be ready soon. I feel like I don’t know enough, and I’m terrible at learning from books. I need a real person to teach me.”
Is it hubris that prevents me from asking what she’s talking about? I’m tired of conversations where I’m the one in the dark. Maybe I’m getting too old to learn new things.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she says. “Maybe I should go back to Llanive. It’s so stressful on the other continent though. Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse. Have you talked to Adam lately?”
“No,” I say. She jerks back at the force of my answer.
“Sorry,” she says, flattening the napkin she’s using as a plate.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “You were just asking a question. Sorry to jump on you like that.”
“You were friends, right? Did he betray you?”
I decide it’s time to change the subject again. “I saw some bears and apes, on Llanive. They were loading up a truck with some supplies or something? I didn’t get a good look at them. What’s going on there?”
The older woman in the corner looks up at us and Vanessa stares at the woman for several seconds before she looks back to me. If I had to guess, I would say that Vanessa was assessing the woman. Who knows. Vanessa leads a complicated life.
“That colony has been doomed from the start. Higg is no place to settle. You live under conditions like that for too long and you’re going to go crazy. I honestly think that mental illness accounts for three-quarters of the decisions made on Higg.”
“That’s the place you pine for? That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Not the area where we lived. That was a nice little pocket where influences overlapped. The bears couldn’t live there because they would have been overrun by predators. Bears aren’t at the apex on Higg, but humans weren’t even seen as prey in those woods. The apes had to live with the bears or they would have upset their detente. Meanwhile, they only ever managed to keep that one small continent safe, and all that is going to be in turmoil after the burn.”
Seriously, I’m able to piece together about sixty percent of what she just said. Again, it’s probably my own stupid pride that keeps me from asking clarifying questions. Ignorance is weakness, and I don’t want to be weak in front of her. If this latest experience with college has taught me anything, it’s that I can usually keep quiet and listen until I understand what the hell is going on.
“Anyway,” she says, “it’s our duty to come back for the Grids, you know? I had my first tour the other day. It’s amazing how big it is, isn’t it?”
I frown and nod knowingly.
“Who was it who said they saw you there. It was Francine, right?” she asks. “She said you were there for one of the first tours, but you didn’t stay for the whole meeting.”
It takes me a second, but I remember seeing someone familiar when I was wearing a hardhat. I think of a clever way to confirm and give it a shot. “I don’t know if it was Francine,” I say. “You wouldn’t tell me anyone’s name, remember?”
She blushes. “People didn’t know you then. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say. I must have guessed right—Francine dined on my Higg squirrel. “Has Arthur told you what your position will be?”
“No,” I say. “I’m not sure we’re on speaking terms.”
She looks confused. “I’m sorry. I just figured that given your involvement.”
My involvement in anything related to Arthur has been a trick at my expense. I wouldn’t expect her to know that though. And—stupid pride—I’m not about to volunteer the information.
“Can we have lunch again?” she asks.
I nod. Why not?
“See you soon,” she says. She bundles up her trash and then drops it in the can on her way to the door.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
* Enlisted *
I’M WOKEN BY THE sound of knocking.
I put on a robe and slippers and crack one eye open to help me navigate through my apartment.
The knocking is too persistent to be polite. It’s almost a demand for an answer. Whoever it is clearly doesn’t value my sleep as much as I do.
“I’m coming,” I mumble, halfway down my hall.
I stop. The knocking isn’t coming from the downstairs door, it’s coming from the TV room. It takes me a second, but then I put it together pretty fast for someone who is half asleep. I walk into the TV room and stop. I stare at the far wall.
The knocking stops.
“Can we talk?” Adam’s voice is just audible on the other side of the bookshelf.
“Ugh,” I say. I turn and start back for the bedroom. He starts knocking again. I stop. “What?”
“I just want to talk,” he says. His voice sounds louder. I have a vision of him pushing out the vent and shoving the bookshelf to the side so he can worm his way in. I back up to the door of the TV room and flip on the lights. The bookshelf is still where it’s supposed to be.
“Talk about what?”
“I need help,” Adam says. “And you’re the only one who can do it.”
“Help with what?”
I’m leaning against the doorframe, still not committed to having this conversation. I would much rather go crawl back into bed. I have a test tomorrow, and I promised myself I would get up an hour early so I can finish studying.
“I have new information that your brother is going to overload the InAeternum on purpose. He wants to cause a burn, and let it backfire through the other worlds.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Your brother thinks that the only way to preserve humanity is to burn down our current civilization. He’s going to use your machine to do it.”
“Why?” I ask with a sigh.
“Because he thinks it’s like Noah’s Ark. They’re almost done building their city, and he’s going to build a new society in there while everything else is burned.”
“That’s insane,” I say. It’s something that a comic book villain would do. Then again, he reminded me of a comic book villain the last time I talked to him. “Besides, what makes you think you can stop him anyway? He has all the money in the world.”
I’ve done some research on my brother. All the money in the world might be a simplistic underestimate.
“All you have to do is break the machine before it burns. I think we’ve figured out a way to do that.”
“Great! Sounds like you have everything under control. I’m going back to bed.”
“No,” he says. “You’re the only one who can pull off the plan. You know how the thing works and where everything is located.”
“There’s no way to break that machine. I was the one who made sure of that.”
“Just promise me that you’ll think about it. We have a few months before our window. Will you consider helping us? You have no idea how many lives you’ll be saving.”
“No,” I say.
I get up and go back to bed. If he starts knocking again, I’ll just put on the radio. Or maybe I’ll fold over to Maldy and burn down his cabin. One of the two.
---- * ----
I start having lunch with Vanessa every day. As long as we don’t talk about politics or bears, we have a great time. She loves to listen, and even when I don’t feel like talking, she can fill the silence. She introduces me to a few other students and I’m not such an outcast. Robert still doesn’t trust me enough to talk to me, but I think he will eventually. He just needs to see me interacting with other students in a perfectly normal way. Then he’ll figure out that I’m not a weirdo.
Vanessa’s curriculum is very practical compared to mine. She’s studying people, and learning, and physics, and geology. She’s informing herself on how people evolved and why we formed societies. I’m staggered by her curiosity and intellect. They go hand in hand. I hadn’t realized that so precisely before. Vanessa is reasonable and level-headed. She’s perfectly amiable right up until someone threatens her.
We were walking back from The Gray Tusker—a restaurant famous for tiny portions of impossibly good food—when a man jumped out and demanded money. The last time this happened to me, a man ended up dead. I couldn’t help but look around for a bear to hide behind. I didn’t find a bear, I found Vanessa. Before I could move, she stepped forward, grabbed the guy’s wrist, and brought it down to her rising knee. The knife fell and his wrist snapped.
He tried to hit her and she dodged. I tried to hit him and landed only a glancing blow. Vanessa then plowed her foot deep into his crotch. We scurried away while he collapsed to the ground.
Before we even reached the next block, Vanessa was back to her normal, cheerful self. She’s the most pleasant person in the world, but I wouldn’t recommend crossing her. There’s a part of her that’s well-suited to dealing with confrontation. I don’t suppose one gets good at those skills without practice.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks.
I’ve been off in my own world, thinking about Vanessa and how she would have dealt with Adam’s midnight knocking.
“Did you know that Adam wants to stop my brother’s plans?”
Vanessa nods. “He doesn’t make a secret of it,” she says.
“What do you think?”
“Arthur is a visionary. He sees the big picture. When he says that we have to be prepared to ride out the end of the world in the Grids, I believe him. I’m doing everything in my power to be ready for that day.”
“But do you think that Arthur is going to try to cause the destruction?”
Vanessa pauses. She really seems to be thinking this throug
h. I would be surprised if this was the first time the notion had occurred to her.
“People find a path,” she says. “They find a path that seems familiar and then they get locked into that path.”
“What do you mean?”
Vanessa shrugs.
“What if the path he chooses includes killing billions of people?”
Vanessa is eating a container of yogurt. Her spoon doesn’t even pause as she forms her answer. “Everyone dies eventually. It’s not prudent to get hung up on this life or that.”
“But billions?”
She points her spoon at me. “What if you had two choices: everyone dies over the next hundred years, or ninety-nine percent of people die this year? Which would you choose?”
“Why does it have to be one or the other?”
“The car is racing towards a cliff. You might live if you dive out. You’ll certainly perish if you go over the edge.”
“What if I don’t agree that there’s a cliff?”
She nods and blinks slowly. She’s agreeing with herself. “There’s a cliff.”
“I don’t know. This sounds like another analogy that I can’t remember. I suppose I would stick with the car if it had a billion people in it. I would rather die trying to save everyone than live with the regret of not doing anything to try to change the course.”
“That’s noble, but stupid,” she says. “Altruism begins at home. If you want to help people, you have to be sure to help yourself. If something happens to you, your place will just be taken by someone more selfish.”
“Huh,” I say.
---- * ----
I can’t seem to fall asleep.
My car is headed for a cliff, and not for the first time. One of the bears said the asteroid was like being in a car, going a hundred miles-an-hour towards a wall. Yet we averted that crisis. All it took was the right motivation and the bears somehow figured it out. I won’t be convinced that our fate is sealed.
