Abel

by Zack Metcalfe

  Chapter – 8

   

  I left the apple tree where it was for now. I couldn’t bear to be anywhere near it. The pearls had responded to it somehow.

  I saw Mary Tanaka, her memories through her eyes. I saw the decisive moments of her life, the ones that answered so many of my questions about the wars on Mars. For the first time in my life, I know why it started. I know why my home world was destroyed.

  …A single apple tree.

  I kept my experience with the pearls to myself. Seeing the life of Mary Tanaka felt like it had taken days, while my family said I was only away a few hours. Apparently I looked awful.

  Blood shot eyes.

  Deathly pale skin.

  Weak steps.

  I said it was lack of sleep.

  I saw Mary's world as she did. I saw her beliefs, and although they weren’t my own, I understood them. I was even able to see her distant memories, like a passing dream. I knew her almost as well as I knew my own family, because I observed her in the most intimate way.

  Why would the pearls show me this? Had they?

  I thought about it over and over as the days came and passed. Was my experience with Mary just another violent hallucination? I didn't think so. It'd never been that powerful before, that real. For a time, while I was under, I forgot Abel Orion even existed. I occupied, and lived, the life of Mary Tanaka. It all came in a flash, only the important details becoming fully clear. The rest was blurry.

  What happened to me was beyond my understanding, but thinking about it was dangerous. It fueled my playful mind. I focused on what I knew to be real, my work. I allowed my time to be consumed by it. The more difficult a task was, the better. As long as my mind was occupied, I felt safe in my ship.

  I owned this ship. I brought it back from the dead. It represented my success, but my playful mind took this away from me sometimes. These halls were also a mental playground, one that persists whenever my thoughts are given freedom. My feelings of insecurity had intensified since meeting Mary Tanaka. It was proof that my ship had secrets.

  I entered the garden one day. It wasn’t one of my responsibilities on the ship, but my experience with Mary Tanaka gave me a new relationship with plants. I use to think they were sacred. Now they looked like resource. I needed to see them, or at least Mary did.

  Entering the garden, I was relieved to find my father there, moving towards the nutrient water supplies. His eyes looked heavy, and his hair messy. My father was like myself, an early riser.

  “Good morning,” my father said, smiling at me. He looked tired.

  I was taken aback. Morning? It only then occurred to me how long I had been working. I missed an entire sleep cycle.

  “Morning,” I answered. I haven’t seen a genuine morning in a long time. You never truly understand how liberating the rising sun is until it stops waking you up. Now I can only see the sun through tinted glass.

  “Care to give me a hand?” he asked. “Your mother is a little tired.”

  I knew how she felt. I came forward and prepared to water the plants. Typically I was slow and unimpressive at the process. This morning however, my hands moved as if I had trained for this task over an entire lifetime. Each drop of nutritional liquid landed precisely where it was needed. I was moving faster than my father, then slowed down once I realized it. I knew why my hands were suddenly skilled, and I didn’t want to explain.

  “Your mother tells me you're having trouble reaching the command deck,” my father said.

  “This ship’s internal maps have gaps,” I answered.

  My father took a moment, thinking over the statement. “Are you saying you can’t find a way to the deck?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know where the deck is.”

  “Well, you know it’s on the ship’s bow, don’t you?”

  I shook my head again. “I have no idea. It could be anywhere.”

  “You would know better than me,” he answered, returning to his work. I should have known he wouldn’t leave it there. It’s who my father was. He's incapable of holding his tongue when he felt something should be said.

  I was looking over the plants, naming them under my breath. I wasn’t using their common names. I was using strange ones, words I didn't recognize. Mary, what's this gibberish you've taught me?

  “Are you giving up?” my father asked me.

  I came to my senses. “What?”

  “The command deck. Are you giving up on finding it?”

  “I…yeah. I have no idea where I’m going. There’s no point in forcing it.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then continued. “I think you should keep trying.” He was speaking while watering, and I began doing the same.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, there’s plenty of work that needs done.” I immediately regretted saying it. It was an excuse, and we both knew it.

  “There isn’t really anything pressing here. I think you have the time.”

  “But…it’s a lot of work for nothing,” I blurted out. I could feel my arguments losing their momentum.

  My father looked up from his work. “What do you mean?”

  I took a deep breath before answering. “I could spend weeks searching for the command deck. Finding it was difficult even when I knew where I was going, but now I don’t see the point. Finding the deck wouldn’t do us any good. It’s a waste of time.”

  “Son, I still think you should try.”

  “But, why?”

  “Because, finding the deck isn’t the point. The point is integrity. The point, is that you said you were going to do something. Your ability to follow through with that task speaks of you as a person. It isn’t about the command deck, son. It’s about proving you can keep a commitment. Any material rewards be damned.”

   

  __________

   

  Knight to A4.

  Bishop to G6.

  Queen to E7.

  Rook to E7.

  Check.

  Cain, April, and I often played chess. It turned us into human calculators, planning five or six moves ahead. We used a four way chessboard, but couldn’t convince either of our parents to fill the final position. We didn’t blame them. They wouldn’t stand a chance. My siblings and I were experienced, often saying nothing during a game. The only noise was the scraping of our stone pieces moving across the board.

  The game wasn’t about fun. It wasn’t even about winning. It was about the memories. When playing, I recall the times on Mars when we challenged each other in the setting sunlight. We used to laugh back then. I remember when my brother and sister were happy. Now the memories were bitter, based on a world that would never see another chess game.

  Pawn to E7.

  My sister had difficulty holding her hands steady while moving her pieces. Her muscles were losing strength.

  It occurred to me how little I saw the two of them anymore. I was the only member of the family who left the inner halls. I missed them.

  “How far are we?” I asked. I had lost track, as I often did. It was the best way to make a trip like this.

  Lose track.

  They both looked at me.

  “Another two weeks or so,” April told me. “It’s difficult to be sure.”

  Indeed it was. We could only guess where Earth was.

  “I’ve seen more objects floating past us,” Cain put in. “Three more satellites. The odds of me seeing them would be impossible were we not close. I haven’t been able to look directly at Earth since we left Mars, not from my view point.”

  I nodded, moving another piece on the board. Everyone focused on the game again. We all had a question on our minds we didn’t want to face. I wasn’t sure if it slipped out of April’s mouth or mine.

  “What will we find?”

  Bishop to B4.

  Check mate.

  Knight to C5.

  Check mate.