Jonah smiled nervously, and cleared his throat saying “Yeah – that must be it.”
Rayev held the button down on the wristile until it again was blank. He started to take it off of Jonah's arm, but hesitated.
“You know… Keep it on. When you download the upgrade to your chip - which you should definitely do soon - you can use that one until you get back to your sector. And it might be good to leave it on your arm, so that no one else recognizes that you don't have one. You'd definitely get some weird looks – even more than the looks you'll keep drawing if you don't get the current Fashion Committee's provisions soon!”
Rayev laughed again.
Though he made it seem that he was trying to save Jonah from being humiliated, it was obvious that he enjoyed pointing out what was so embarrassing about the way he looked.
But Jonah wasn't embarrassed. No one in his town had ever noticed the clothing he wore, save for a few days prior when he came home with his sleeves ripped off his arms and no satchel. Even then, it wasn't the kind of indignant look that Rayev had when his eyes poured over the differences of detail on his jumpsuit. The townspeople he grew up with were simply happy to keep warm in the winter, and keep the sun from scorching their skin in the summer.
Rayev walked over to the wall, and let his fingers slide across the surface in various patterns. As his fingertips moved, the wall changed images – quicker than Jonah's eyes could keep up. The surface ended on a series of blue lines and highlighted shapes, similar to the lines he had seen with Talitha’s green dot. At the top of the wall, in large letters was Sectors 35-40.
“Here's the map of the next five sectors – well technically six since it includes the first of the next set. And this,” he said, touching an arrow to the right as the top letters changed to Sectors 30-35, “is the last five sectors. You've seen a map like this, right?”
Jonah shook his head, not adding that he'd only seen a handful of maps in his lifetime – and none of them glowed.
“Of course you haven't,” Rayev said, pursing his lips together, snorting a laugh. “It's as if they thought that they could send someone with no skill whatsoever to fill this purpose assignment.”
Jonah thought to himself, If all he has to do is just wait for a button to glow, and then touch it, then no, there really isn't any skill needed...
Rayev clicked an arrow on the left, changing back to Sectors 35-40 and continued speaking. “We're here, the Fashion Committee's over here, and—” He pointed to various spots on the map, assuming that Jonah knew what all of them were for. “Do you know where you're sleeping? Do you have a Family Unit assignment for while you're here?”
Jonah simply nodded his head, thinking that his ‘Family Unit assignment’ would to be to slip back into the ducts that led to the surface and camp under the stars.
“Well, they're probably wondering where you are, since Aile's assignment shift ended about three hours ago. You should get going!”
Jonah recognized that the three hours that Rayev had been searching for an extra wristile started at the end of the absent button pusher's shift. When Rayev was the one who was supposed to be sitting in the room, waiting for the alarms. And in looking at the map on the wall, he could see a block labeled Technology Supply Committee only a corridor away. He didn't know where Rayev had been, but he got the feeling that he wasn't seeking to accomplish much during that time.
Rayev blew another puff of smoke mist that hit Jonah in the face.
“What is that?,” Jonah asked.
“The flavor of Chemvapor? ‘Black Resource.’ Pretty great, right? Tastes like dessert!”
Rayev sat down on a chair in the corner of the room and propped up his feet. “Aile's shift starts same time again tomorrow – so if he's still sick, that's when you'll need to be here.”
“Oh... Okay,” Jonah said, surprised at the sudden change in Rayev. It seemed for a time that Rayev had enjoyed telling Jonah about the environment that they were in, but that time had apparently abruptly past.
Rayev picked up a contraption similar to what Talitha's brother, Dawkin, was wearing. He said with a smile, “I've got things to do, you know – these games aren't going to win themselves!” He put the hat-like object on his head, pulled a visor down, and soon after it seemed that Jonah was alone in the room.
He looked at the map, studying the path to Family Unit 37 (C-12) – both to try to see Talitha before leaving, and also considering that there might be a more direct way back to the system of ducts rather than going through the Sanitation Center.
But he decided that getting lost in the underground maze, as long as he were to see Talitha in person, would be worth it.
“Thanks, Rayev!” he said as he turned to leave the room. Rayev made no effort to respond, and simply continued to puff his Chemvapor in a trance.
.- .-- .- -.- .
Jonah received the occasional perplexed look from eyes that scanned his whole body, most likely noticing the invisible difference in dress, but that was the exception to the general encounter.
At first, he had walked cautiously, avoiding hallways occupied by anyone else, but he soon realized that it did not matter. Most of the people he passed by or walked behind had their attentions glued to either the glass on their forearms or over their eyes. He didn't know how people were walking with the visors over their faces – the material did not look the least bit transparent – but they took the turns of the hallways and avoided any collision with no problem.
He considered how strange the situation was: he was deep underneath the surface of the Deathlands, surrounded by an entire society of people. He walked among aliens. Or, more accurately, he was an alien walking among a people native to a town that he could have never imagined.
On the surface, he doubted that any of these underground citizens would blend in – as he felt that he mostly did here – no matter what the clothing they wore.
Here, he was confident that no one noticed him – or no one cared.
The entire time that he walked, he had been paying attention to all of the labels next to doorways to make sure of his path. He was relieved that, once he entered an area consistently littered with Family Units, the traffic in the hallways ceased.
When Jonah was merely a few paces away from Talitha's Family Unit, he paused. He had no idea what he was going to do now that his trip was complete.
He hadn't planned far enough in advance to assume that he would need a plan once he arrived at the door. He had merely been drawn to her.
He never had a problem going to a neighbor's door with a purpose, knocking on the wooden entrance to ask to borrow a tool or a basin of flour. He'd never been anxious to go to a home and yell for a friend to come outside.
But rarely a girl's home.
And... Never like this.
The girls in his small town had taken more notice of him in the past couple of years, but he knew it was because of how he was proving himself in taking care of his family after his father's accident. It felt superficial to him that the reason they would be interested is because it was obvious that he would be responsible enough to provide. And besides that, they all seemed so normal.
But, even so, he had never simply knocked on a door to announce I'm interested in your daughter.
Now, so close to the only girl that had ever stolen his focus, he started pacing.
To give himself a purpose, he walked the hallway in front of the door analyzing the labels along the walls. He knew that one of them, Maintenance Duct Entrance 37C (13), was familiar. It was off the main tunnel near the ladder, which would make sense considering how close to the ladder he was when he originally saw Talitha's family.
He debated abandoning the idea of seeing Talitha directly and merely retreating to the maintenance duct entrance to see if it led him to the surface. He could even traverse the tunnels before he left to watch her again.
The thought of it seemed cowardly, but reasonable.
If he had not suddenly become oblivious to his
surroundings, he would have noticed that the lights in the hallways had changed from a wash of white to a dull yellow. He would have recognized a low repetitive beep. He also would have noticed that, without meaning to, he stopped directly in front of Family Unit 37 (C-12) and was standing still.
While thoughts still raced in his head, the panel before him quickly moved an inch inward and slid inside the wall.
A plump woman with disheveled hair, bright lips, and blue shadows under her eyes stood in the doorway. Jonah recognized her as Gabet, Talitha's mother.
“Can I assist you?” she asked, with a tense expression that mixed impatience with a tinge of fear.
Jonah's eyes were wide, as if he were one of the animals caught in the sights of his rifle. He had no idea what to say.
“Can... Can I assist you?” she repeated, with a painful look on her face, indicating that she was not used to his smell. She scanned his body and contained a smirk.
I've never seen anything as beautiful as your daughter, and I would like the chance to talk to her.
The thoughts jumbled through his head, but he did not answer her.
If you would permit me, may I take your daughter for a walk?
He was having a hard time maintaining a firm grip on the reality of the situation.
I'm from the surface, and I've watched your family through the slits in the walls.
Each option seemed worse than the last. At last, by accident, he simply muttered, “your daughter...?”
The woman eyed him for a moment, then parted her lips in a nervous smile. There was lipstick on her teeth. “You're not from the Complaint Committee, are you? Not that we have reason to complain, of course – everyone is very happy here!”
“No, ma'am, I—”
Gabet did a double take at his unfinished response and her face seemed to relax a bit, sighing. She started to take the confrontation in consideration, noting that he was closer to her daughters age than her snap reaction. “You're looking for Talitha?”
Jonah nodded his head.
“Come in - quickly now. Give me a minute to get her...”
She darted her eyes down both directions of the hallway. The door slid behind him before Jonah realized that she had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside.
He was standing in the kitchen where he first observed the family. The images on the walls were the open sky, with sand and water near the floor, except for one yellow square that blinked with alert.
“Sorry to... force you like that... But there was a Facility-wide message telling us to enact protocol eleven. I honestly don't remember the last time it happened, so I had to look it up on my wristile.” She laughed once, nervously, moving around the dining table toward the hallway on the opposite side of the room.
“Protocol eleven?”
“I don't think we've had to enact it since my son was in his incubation chamber. Imagine my stress then, wondering if we would ever get to bring him home because of it!
“Anyhow, it's a basic lockdown – a bit more serious than the suggested lockdowns of the protocols up through ten, but... Well, I hope not too much more serious... We haven't had any real trouble in the Facility since I was a little girl and there were those... What was the word? ...insurgents, I think they called them.”
Jonah's body tensed up as the woman talked, knowing that he had been caught. His eyes widened, and he turned to face the door, deciding that he could possibly get away through the maintenance duct back to the surface if he left immediately.
But he had no idea where the door had gone – it was replaced with more of the same ocean scene.
After yelling “Talitha!” through the door to the hallway, Gabet chuckled to herself, noticing his anxiety. “Oh, it's nothing to worry about – I'm sure that it's nothing of the sort. I haven't heard of any problems for years. And my husband, Quilen, is on the Regulation Committee... He's sleeping from the recent sickness, and I'm sure we would've heard if it was serious.
“Honestly, it's probably just because they have fewer Control Officers available because of the sickness. I'd bet that the Central Facility Computer issued the protocol for our own safety.”
As if dawn had just broken, Talitha entered the room. His anxiety waned for a moment, as if – even if he were dragged out of there – whatever would be done to him was worth seeing her up close.
The simulated ocean breeze that was pumping through the ventilation system caused strands or her hair to brush across her cheeks. She pulled it back behind her ear with one hand, the other hand holding a tattered book.
“You have a visitor,” Gabet said. As she exited, she took the book out of Talitha's grip, mumbling, “I don't know why you don't just use the eyetiles to read... How many Wellness Officers have to post studies on how much better it is for your eyes for you to listen?”
Talitha's eyes followed her mother out of the room, then glanced at Jonah. Seeing them again, Jonah realized how much more vibrant her eyes were than those from the hallways. Theirs seemed to stare blankly into glass – not caring where they stood. Hers seemed bright with anticipation and questions, mingled with a sense that she didn't know the reason of her being here, but that she, at least, was here.
Right now, there was an obvious question in her eyes.
“Who are you?” She glanced at his clothes with confusion rather than judgment.
Jonah was silent for a moment.
“My name is Jonah...”
“I'm sorry... Have we met before?”
“No... No, we haven't met.”
She looked at him as if he were alien – much in the same way that he looked at the other inhabitants of the underground facility.
“Which Committee are you with?”
“I'm not with any committee,” Jonah responded.
“Are you assigned to be a Control Officer, or something? I don't know too many people as thin and muscular as you, unless they've undergone the surgeries for Control Officer appointment.”
Jonah smiled briefly at the porcelain face describing him as muscular, but then realized that she wasn't saying it as a complement. “No – I'm not any of those... I... I just work.”
Talitha let out the smallest noise of a gasp, looking behind her as if wondering if anyone else heard.
“You mean – you're part of the labor class? I suppose that explains why you—” She paused, holding her breath. Jonah noticed she had been taking shallow breaths, only out of her mouth, since he was close to her.
Jonah didn't know how to respond, considering that anytime he heard someone use that term it was in disdain.
“No – not exactly,” he said. “You're also thin – the first I've seen here.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean the first you've seen here?”
Jonah cleared his throat. “Oh – I mean... Uh... This sector. The first I've seen in this sector.”
“You're from a different sector?”
Jonah did not like lying to her. He didn't like lying to anyone – but he felt as if he was deceiving an angel when he stumbled through the words, “Sector 20.”
“Oh,” Talitha said, slumping her shoulders slightly. “What are you doing here?”
Jonah's body tensed, feeling like his throat would tear itself out, but calmly responded, “because of the sickness... I was sent here to help.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing here. In my family’s dining unit.”
“I was in the hall...” Jonah's words felt like burning sandpaper. “The lockdown...and your mother...”
“Oh, I'm sorry – I thought you were here to see me since my mom called for me.” She seemed slightly disappointed, while at the same time relieved. “I didn't realize that you're in here simply by coincidence.”
She crossed her right arm across her chest, her fingers gracefully resting on her collarbone. “Nice to meet you, Jonah. I’m Talitha.”
Jonah mimicked her motion. “Very nice to meet you, Talitha.”
There was an awkward sil
ence while Jonah looked for something to say, and Talitha studied his expression.
“What were you reading?” he finally asked.
“Oh,” she sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. “Are you going to tell me about the dangers of not using eyetiles to read, too?”
“No – I read books as well.”
“They have a lot of books in Sector 20?” She pursed her lips, wondering if he was lying. He traced the contours of her face with his eyes, imagining that her lips were pressed together in preparation of a different reason.
“Uh – ahem – not... Not too many. I have to borrow them from a friend who collects them now that I’m out of school.”
Her face softened. “Actually, I can't really talk about it – my dad wouldn't be too happy about me reading it. It's... It's not available on the eyetiles because it's not approved by the leaders. You've probably never heard of it, though, so I doubt you'd care... It’s called The Toynbee Convector.”
He locked the title away in his head, hoping that Schultz would have a copy. He wasn't great at reading, only learning enough to get him through the few written tests administered in his schoolhouse – it was a skill that never seemed to be practical. When he was still in school, the schedule was dictated by the crops. And his father often reminded him you don't need to read to harvest corn.
“What's it about?” he asked.
“Well,” she lowered her voice. “It’s actually a bunch of different short stories, which is good because a lot of the pages are ripped out. The first one is about a man who said he built a time machine to convince people to—” She caught herself mid-thought, realizing that she didn't know who she was talking to. She finished with, “it's from a really long time ago. Before the Surface's End.”
Jonah paused. It was a very strange phrase.
“What do you think happened to bring everyone down here?” he asked. “To end the surface?”
She looked at him a bit perplexed. “What do you mean? Half of our Eduction Center lectures are about why it happened.”
The Surface's End Page 8