by A I Knowles
“I’m surprised the Society even lets us see stuff like that.”
“Yeah.” I nod, and scrub my face wearily with my hand. The images won’t leave me, and it’s why I chose to draw the baby today. I needed to replace those pictures with something beautiful, something joyful. So I’d applied myself to detailing every minutiae of that baby’s tiny nose and rosebud mouth.
“I can’t believe people would actually do that to each other.”
I stare silently at the notebook beneath my hands. One curse of a detailed memory is my inability to un-see anything which is seen. The images were low-quality but their impact is one I’ll never forget. I remember the blood and the screams of agony. I watched the life leave people’s eyes, even saw a camera operator go crashing to the ground when a missile hit nearby. It was genocide, Teacher told us. People killing each other simply for having a different skin color. I look at Linea’s face, with her olive skin and her slanted eyes, and I wonder what could possibly be considered so wrong about melanin and DNA that it was worth destroying a life. At our core, we are both valuable. We are both equally human. Yet Earth’s history is rife with these sorts of wars, where skin color and gender and religion were these great divides that caused strife and even warfare and death.
“Why do you think they show it to us every day?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Sometimes, especially lately, it seems scenes of war, death, and pain are all Teacher shows us. Once we learned about brighter periods in Uhssa’s history, of great advancements in medical technology and the sudden leap from the ages of dirt and darkness to the one of information and connection. We’d seen how just a few decades separated the world of oil lamps from the one of LEDs and solar power.
Linea shrugs. “I dunno.” I see on her face the desire to say more, but she pinches her lips together and stands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alyss.”
“Good night.” I watch her walk away, her silky dark hair rippling nearly down to her hips. We are the only two who choose to retain long hairstyles. I call it my act of rebellion. Linea doesn’t call it anything anymore. It’s like she’s little more than a shell of the bubbly girl she once was.
Scenes of war and mind-numbing medication. The closer I get to my Process, the darker my life grows. What once seemed the most exciting and exhilarating event imaginable has now become something I almost dread. I have questions, questions nobody will answer. I hear mutters of my insubordination and I see the irritation when I try to make the pieces fit together.
I want to understand and conform. I really do. But something isn’t right. Beneath this veneer of sleek, gray furniture and shiny floors, beneath the beauty of the HAs and the minimalistic designs of the bots and androids, some darkness lurks. I don’t know what it is. They insist I’ll understand it all once I go through the Process.
But I’m starting to feel like I don’t want the Process at all...at least not until I can fill in the gaps in the information the Society is feeding me.
Embedding is losing its appeal, and I spend my days fighting this dense fog of firmly-suppressed panic, panic which has no outlet and no answers.
***
“Hey. Wake up.”
I blink my eyes groggily. El kneels in front of me and his hand is on my shoulder. “What...what happened?”
“We’ve gotta go back. It’s almost daytime.”
Gasping, I push myself upright. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep! I wanted to help! I needed to…”
El reaches out and grabs both my shoulders, then shakes me a little. “Calm down. We tried to wake you up. You were completely out of it. I’m sorry, Alyss. We’ll come back tonight and keep looking.”
Desperation coils into a flaming knot in my stomach and tears burn my eyes. “But the people…” I look past El in the growing dawn’s light as weary, dusty people file out onto open ground. “We have to save them…”
“We can’t save them if everyone is too exhausted to make good decisions, Alyss. Come on. Let’s go back.” He helps me to my feet, then holds onto me until I gain my balance.
I follow him as we trudge back across the open space, every nerve on alert and ready to break into a run if I hear the hum of an approaching vehicle or drone. El walks beside me, his head hanging and his helmet swinging in his hand.
“How many?”
Even though I didn’t specify what I was talking about, El seems to understand. “Five more. Two dead. One probably won’t make it.”
My breath catches. “How many are still missing?”
“I don’t know.”
The enormity of our situation descends on me until I feel I can hardly breathe. I follow the crowd across the rubble-strewn land, forcing one foot in front of the other until the maw of the tunnel looms above us. Then, with no idea where I’m needed or what I should be doing, I stumble to an empty spot by the wall and lower myself to the ground. I’m past the families who huddle on the gravel, with the bins of supplies to my right and the tunnel exit to my left. Across from me is the line of blankets which holds the injured.
Numb, I lay down, barely feeling the gravel beneath me. I curl up with my knees to my chest and one arm under my head and descend into a sort of half-sleep as I stare blankly at the side of the metal rail. I can see every speck of rust and every detail of each rock. Meaningless details that mean nothing. Is that all we are? We mean nothing to the Society. Are we so worthless that they would rather destroy us all than risk any of their precious citizens finding out what we know?
Or is there someone else they’re hiding this information from? The Society told me the world outside their property was dead. But the rebels say that’s a lie. Maybe they aren’t hiding this information from their citizens, but from people outside. Maybe they want to expand their reach, and we stand in the way of that.
My mind spins in circles until it draws me into an uneasy sleep, as if I am sailing in a tiny boat sucked into the center of a raging whirlpool as I descend into the depths of a dark sea.
When I wake, my body is sore all over and the only light in the tunnel is the wan glow of a lamp set on the tracks.
Also, there’s lots of yelling.
Chapter 14: The Return
“Alyss! Alyss, wake up!”
I sit up and blink rapidly, trying to clear my eyes. There’s a great clatter of rocks coming toward me, like someone is running on the gravel. A figure approaches in the dim light.
El skids to a stop in front of me, and reaches down. “Get up. Your mom’s here.”
Hearing this, I let him pull me to my feet. “Where?”
He gestures in the direction of the tunnel mouth, then sets off at a jog in that direction. As quickly as I’m able, I slip my feet into my shoes and follow at a slower pace. I might as well have spent all of yesterday in a fistfight, considering how sore I am. I feel the ache in muscles I didn’t know existed. My skin feels raw where I laid on the rocks, and the healing wound on my neck aches. I place my feet carefully, unable to see the gravel except for a blur of gray in the darkness. The lamps have been placed far enough apart their circles of light don’t overlap.
I try to shake off the pain and push forward. Lily’s here. Despite our strained relationship, it’s good that she’s alive. If nothing else, she seems to be an important person in the battle to resist the Society. I walk through the people who are waking up on either side of the track, past mothers who are trying to coax young children to consume the nastiness that is pre-packaged meals. For a moment, I wonder what it must be like to be too young to understand what’s happened. All they know is that they’ve lost everything they’ve ever known. Would it be easier that way, to not know how precarious our lives are, or harder because we wouldn’t know what had happened?
Well, I don’t have to wonder too much, because I know how it feels.
A group of people is gathered around the table near the tunnel entrance. They nearly block out the light of the two lamps set on the surface. I spot Lily by the damp-sand color of her hair.
A gray-haired man turns to look at me as I approach, and I can’t stop the smile lighting up my face. “Zhen!” I run forward and embrace him. He hugs me to himself, and my nose fills with the scent of blood and sweat. After a moment, he releases me and his gentle old face looks into mine. “It’s good to see you again, Alyss.”
El’s grin has returned, which raises my spirits even more. I can’t help seeing Lily, who looks almost betrayed by my friendship with the two men. Her tired face is illuminated from underneath by the lamp. Zhen’s t-shirt is ripped and covered in white dust, and there is a bruise on his arm, but otherwise he seems unscathed. Lily appears to have escaped all damage besides a light coating of concrete dust. At least, the parts of her which I can see in the dim light are alright.
Lily pushes through the gathered, chattering people until she stands in front of me. Her hand raises as if to touch me, then she lowers it. There are deep shadows beneath her eyes, and now that she’s closer, I can see the cracking of her lips and the scratches which cover her arms. “Alyss. You made it.”
I nod, not knowing what to say. “I did.”
“I’m glad.”
We stare at each other in awkward silence before David emerges from the crowd and catches Lily’s arm. “Lily, let’s get you settled in so you can get some rest, then we can discuss plans.”
Lily nods to him and, with one last glance at me, she follows David. The other two council members are here as well, and the other people in the group seem to be their friends and family. Bob has his arm in a sling and Tina’s neck is bandaged. I see Zhen and El walking away and I follow.
Once we reach a slightly clearer space, Zhen turns to face me. “That was a cold welcome for the woman who has spent two days digging out of an unstable tunnel to come find you.” His face is filled with disappointment and exhaustion, and he crosses his arms.
“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to say?”
“Maybe something with more compassion?”
I open my mouth to respond, but El holds up a hand. “Please don’t argue. Not now.” His eyes plead with me. “Father, you need rest. Lily and Alyss can work out their issues later.”
Zhen’s shoulders sag. Suddenly the old man looks just a breath away from collapse. “There is no time for rest, son. There are people still trapped in the rubble.” His face twists beneath his beard. “We heard them.” He runs a weary hand over his eyes.
“I know.” El’s grin is gone again. “But you’ll be able to think more clearly after a couple hours of rest.”
The old man rests his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Alright. Just show me where, and promise me you’ll wake me in two hours.”
El nods. “Come with me.” He leads us down the tunnel and we pass the families, then stop near the spot where I was just sleeping. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He jogs toward the storage bins and returns with an armful of blankets. “I’m sorry, this is all we have.”
Zhen manages a small smile. “That’s fine, son. I didn’t expect a palace.” I watch as El hands him a blanket, and he sinks wearily to the floor with his back against the wall. He arranges the fabric over himself, and before I know it, his head leans back against the wall and he snores softly.
I look up at El, who watches his father sleep with a worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. He just looks so...small.”
“Just give him time. He’ll be okay.”
But as I watch the elderly man sleep, and hear the slight wheeze as he breathes, I wonder if I might be wrong.
***
Nightfall finds us once again setting out for the ruined building. This time there is more urgency in our walk, because the temperature has fallen even further, and a cover of clouds has yielded a biting precipitation of sleet mixed with snow. There weren’t enough coats to go around, so I’m shivering in my shirt and sweatpants. Mmy only protection is the little blanket I’ve tied around my neck like a cape. The rough fabric chafes against my neck and pulls at the wound there. The shovel in my hand is like ice, and my backpack is heavy.
I know it’s nothing compared to the pain and misery being felt by those still trapped beneath the rubble. For that reason, I keep my eyes ahead and my mind repeating the things I’m grateful for. I’m alive, I’m fed, I’m relatively unharmed.
Tonight we edge even further into the unsteady building, which creaks in the biting wind. We’ve all been warned to evacuate the moment collapse seems imminent, and we’ve all been given whistles in case we get trapped.
I shudder as we pass beneath the doorway and into the infirmary. This time El’s insisting I work in front of him so he can keep an eye on me. I’m torn between irritation and appreciation. Learning my physical limits is much more difficult than I’d imagined it would be. I’m used to Nandroids knowing when I’m ill or too tired before I ever feel it myself, so this need to communicate my physical health to others is an alien concept.
Almost as one, we flick our headlamps on. Beams of light strike through the dusty air to touch upon the space that was once a hallway but is now a wall of rubble. A small tunnel has been cleared near the floor, and I shudder to think of having to be the one to go inside it.
El’s hand grasps my shoulder. “Let’s just get these people out.”
I nod without replying. Up ahead, David calls out, and several people crouch and crawl into the tunnel. Someone kneels at the entrance, and when a chunk of concrete emerges, the work of passing it back begins.
Tonight we are making more forward progress. My stomach tightens with each step I take toward the precarious wall. More and more people have entered the tunnel, and I hear them shouting to each other as they pass bits of rubble backward. The first person is past the dressing rooms now, and there are murmurs that he thinks he hears someone deeper within.
“Why are we going this way?” I pass El the concrete in my arms. “Why not the other side? It’s closer to the stairs.”
His face is grim as he passes the piece of rubble behind him, then turns back. “It used to be.”
Cold traces down my spine as his words sink in. “What does that mean?”
The woman in front of me meets my eyes as she passes me the next piece. “It means the upper stories of the building collapsed that way. It’s ten times further to that window than it is to go in this way.”
I fall silent as I digest this news. As a group, we fall into a rhythm. Ever closer moves the line toward the dark entrance to that little tunnel. Ever tighter pulls the knot of anxiety in my stomach. By the time I’m the one kneeling by the hole, looking at the woman’s jean-clad butt as she stands on her hands and knees and uses one hand to pass the rubble back, I feel as if I might suffocate.
El must hear the hitch in my breathing, because he puts a hand on my shoulder during a longer pause between rocks being scooted out of the tunnel. “You’re okay.”
“It’s so dark.”
He leans closer and lowers his voice. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. “I’ll be right here. And if it gets bad enough, I’ll take your place.”
I turn and look up at him, tears pricking my eyes at the compassion in his face and voice, but am interrupted before I can say anything by the scrape of a brick being shoved in my direction. The warmth of his hand leaves my shoulder as I hand the red rectangle to him.
All too soon, the woman in front of me moves forward, and I can’t delay any longer. Taking a deep breath, I get on my hands and knees and crawl forward. This tunnel isn’t smooth and round like the old train one where everyone else is hiding. It’s uneven, with cracked floor underneath and giant slabs of concrete piled haphazardly overhead.
When I am fully encased by the small space, that’s when I realize the enormity of the danger. My headlamp illuminates little more than the rear end of the person in front of me, but I know the line extends for at least ten more people. Whoever is in front is tugging bricks and smaller pieces of concrete out from between the slabs. very moveme
nt has an inherent risk that the motion will bring the entire thing crashing down on our heads, crushing us between the bones of a dying building.
I can’t do this. My chest tightens as if someone is squeezing my throat. I twist and try to look at El, who is now crouched behind me. Help. Help me. I don’t want to die in here. My eyes meet his as our headlamps cross beams, nearly blinding me. He whispers something, but my heart is pounding so hard that I can’t hear him. I barely hear the scrape of a brick as it’s pushed toward me, and my hands shake violently as I scoot it past my knees and slide it toward the man behind me.
El’s hand grasps my ankle. “Calm down. You’re okay. Breathe.”
Tears burn my eyes and blur my vision. Another brick scrapes toward me and I push it back. I don’t have breath to answer. The woman in front of me crawls forward and I follow, whimpering as I move further beneath the tons of collapsed concrete. The end of a metal bar sticks out from a slab, and before I realize it, I scrape my arm on it. Pain flares, and blood drips to the floor.
