by L K Hingey
The only other person she ever saw here in the records room was her friend Caleb. He was a kind boy… um man, she corrected herself with a shy smile. They were in their twenties now and she had to remind herself they were no longer playmates in school. Caleb was the only human Kimber had ever been close with. Except for her mother of course. Her mother had been her best friend and the one person Kimber truly looked up to. Kimber missed the days of lounging around in her mother’s arms, listening to her sing-song voice tell stories of what the world used to be like.
Kimber closed her eyes and could see her mother’s smiling face in her hands; beautiful warm cheeks in between Kimber’s tiny scaled fingers. Whenever Kimber would breakdown and start to cry, hating herself for her tough scaly skin so alien to her mother’s silk-soft body, her mother would hold Kimber close to her heart and rock her. Kimber could hear her mother’s heart beating, could feel her warmth, and she would relax listening to her mother sing.
Her mother told her that she had been chosen and that she was more beautiful than any human or any creature that had ever walked the Earth. It was only in those special moments that Kimber would let herself believe her mother’s words. Kimber’s anxiety would then melt away and she would feel safe. Basking in the warmth of that memory was like retreating to an island in one of the encyclopedias on the shelves. Kimber would have liked to stay in that moment, but her peeling outer layer of skin was not about to let her forget why she was here.
The sensation was almost intolerable. She flopped restlessly back onto her stomach and examined her hands. Since they were in continual use, they had already finished their shed, revealing brilliant colors of orange and pink. The scales on the back of her hands were delicate and small, like the scales of a baby snake. She noticed a bit of red dirt under her fingernails. Remnants from the surface. The Auroras were decontaminated after every surface excursion, but copper soil could always be found lingering, no matter how hard they scrubbed.
As Kimber mindlessly began to pry the dirt out, she took stock of her palms and wrists. The shed was halfway down her arms now, and her wrist and forearms shone out in fierce hues of orange and red. The shed always had a strange way of dulling the skin right before detaching, which made the fresh scales seem brighter than ever before. Her palms differed from the tiny scales on the backs of her hands. They were buttery smooth, like a snake’s belly rather than his back, and were soft and pale instead of vibrant and tough. She liked the skin on her palms, it reminded her that she was still in part, human.
Kimber could have stayed there lost in her own thoughts, under her sky of murals, for an entire sleep cycle if she were allowed, but the bells started to ring in the main caverns and she knew it was time to shake out of her reverie. Kimber craned her neck back, looking at the angels and sighed. There they were. Glorious and silent, passing their judgements on the little world of the cavern city. “Be thankful that birds don’t need to shed,” Kimber grumpily told the mosaics.
She had had many conversations with Michael and his holy crew over the years, some more vehement than others. Her mother used to stifle giggles when Kimber would enter their sleep chamber in absolute fits, damning the scientists who had grafted reptilian DNA with human DNA. Kimber had a serious grudge against the scientists for not giving the Auroras wings, and her mother knew it. The way Kimber saw it, if the Auroras supposedly had all this weight of carrying the human genome into the future, they could have at least been given feathered wings like angels instead of scales and shedding skin like snakes.
With one last roll around on the cold ground, Kimber picked herself up. She was not particularly tall, but she was very muscular. All the Auroras were strong, but just like humans, they were incredibly unique. Kimber carried most of her strength in her legs, and as she grew up, she came to be known for her endurance. When the Auroras turned fifteen, they took their first surface trip. Kimber felt like a thoroughbred being released into the wild. She had never seen open space like there was above the caves. None of them had.
Books and lessons could teach one about the enormity of the sky, about the vastness of the planet’s terrain, and about the colors in the borealis, but until the Auroras saw it, they could not actually conceive it. It was on that day in their fifteenth year, that the many years of physical training paid off. They had had years of classes on strength building, agility, defense, and offense, but their training was always limited to the space they had in the caverns. Kimber had never known such joy as to fully open her stride and run.
Though the Mammoth Caves were immensely long, over four hundred charted miles in length, and some of the cavern rooms were as big as ballrooms, getting up to speed and sustaining it was nearly impossible. Not only impossible, but pointless. No one had any idea what laid above the surface, so the need to ‘train’ for it seemed like a game. At least it had until the Auroras were sent up to survey what was left of the planet. On that day the games ended, along with what was left of the Aurorean’s childhood.
Among the wreckage and ruin, Kimber ran free. She felt closer to her cherished angels than she had ever before. Her legs were her wings as she flew over the bleeding dust that was now the crust of the Earth. She could feel her muscles straining against the alien sand, the colors of her body growing in vibrancy with her exertion. Her breath labored like never before and for the first time, she felt unfiltered joy.
Such an odd sensation she would never forget, and for the rest of her life she would replay that day in her mind. She had felt more at home in the first hour of being on the surface than she had in a lifetime of living underground. But here she was, over five years later, seeking refuge from the same sun that had damned the world above ground. The bells stopped ringing as Kimber walked to the exit of the room. With one last glance over her shoulder, she bid the artwork goodbye.
She would be back of course, probably bearing more books like always, but it would be a whole shed away. Because her murals felt like friends, the six-month intervals seemed too long. She knew she had enough shed left to grant her clemency for one more day, but tomorrow was not a day for lounging under painted ceilings. Tomorrow was the annual meeting of the cavern council that she had to be present for. In part, because it would determine her own future.
As the low lamplight flickered a final farewell, Kimber sullenly trotted down the dark corridors. She was headed towards the Aurorean sleeping chamber with one illicit stop planned first. The citizens of the caves were supposed to strictly adhere to the bell’s sleep-wake cycle, but Kimber always bent this rule during her shed. Something about being more vulnerable during this time always made her want to see her mother, and unlike most of the Auroras, she didn’t deny herself.
The Auroras were told that visiting their mothers could cause them harm, because radiation from the surface could potentially seep from the Aurora’s skin into the humans with close contact. Kimber’s mother had been her best friend and idol her entire life, and Kimber didn’t care how many rules she had to break to see her. The many fires were being put out in the various caverns and corridors as Kimber snaked toward the series of cozy rooms where the human mothers of the Auroras resided.
The Mothers had been given these chambers to honor their deeds of carrying and birthing the first grafted children. In their wombs, they had grown the only hope mankind had left for survival. From the bellies of these twenty-three women, came what some called mutant and some called savior; babies born with the intertwined DNA of a human, the DNA of a specific species of venomous snake, and most importantly... the DNA of an incredibly radiation-resistant microscopic invertebrate called a tardigrade. These remarkable spineless animals had been dubbed through the ages fondly as “water bears,” a nickname that had endured from the 18th century.
The Mothers did not know what sort of children would be born from such a genetic fusion, and all they could do was to pray to gods that were no longer allowed to exist. For seven long months after the flare, the remnants of humanity held its breath. When the first baby came into
the world, a little girl with all the health and radiance of a newborn human, they named her Eve. Though she was perfect in weight, shape, and voice, her skin differed considerably from a typical infant’s. Eve’s entire body was covered in little soft scales and she glowed a pale aqua color. Humanity rejoiced.
Kimber treaded lightly along the well-known path and eventually came to the mouth of the Chamber of the Mothers. She smiled when she looked down and saw her mother, as graceful and as peaceful as ever, knitting by a low fire. A knife pierced Kimber’s heart as she got closer and could see that none of the colors in her mother’s knitting project matched. Her mother’s eyesight was failing, and this was a sign it was worsening. As Kimber quietly drew closer, a smile spread on her mother’s face. Even approaching blindness, she was a picture of gentle beauty. “My baby is here!” Kimber’s mother exclaimed.
Chapter II
Kimber met her mother in a hug, half-standing and half-sitting. Kimber’s whole world melted away and was replaced only with warmth. “I knew you’d be sneaking in soon,” her mother said with a smile as they let go of their embrace. “So, I have been making these for you.” Kimber took her mother’s hands in her own and looked at what was being knit. They were lavarock sleeves. Or as Kimber used to call them as a child, rock pajamas.
“I love them, Mother,” Kimber said quietly, and she truly did.
“The colors may be off...” her mother began, worriedly.
Kimber gently cut her off. “Shh. They are perfect,” she said placing a hand on her mother’s, guiding her mother back to her seat. Her mother could hear the sincerity as Kimber gazed at the little pajamas. The sleeves were a pair, each depicting several small Aurorean children curled up with lavarocks beside a fire.
What Kimber’s mother may have lacked in eyesight, she did not lack in attention to detail. Every stitch was perfect. Rich designs from old Celtic lore were wrapped above and below the imagery. This was another testament of her mother’s love. Every book that Kimber had ever brought home, her mother had committed to memory. The very first book Kimber gifted her mother, was a book on Celtic folk-art. Kimber had hoped that the detailed pages would light up her mother’s imagination, and they had.
An aging woman crept up and knelt by the fire to gentle stoke it. “Now Kimberly, you heard the bells. Or are your ears failing you too?” The woman spoke to Kimber’s mother with a smile in her cracking voice, as if they were sisters maturing through the long years together.
“Hush, Marisol, you old spinstress,” came the quick retort. “Can’t you see, we’ve got company!”
The aging woman stood up and squeezed Kimberly’s shoulders. “I’ll leave you two trouble-makers to it,” she said with a sparkle in her eye. She turned to Kimber, whose scales were reflecting the fiery glow of the embers and added, “So good to see you, dear.” Before leaving the small fire ring, Marisol placed a medium-sized lavarock in the dying fire as a gesture of care and good will.
Kimber watched the heating rock with a smile. She was safe here amongst the Mothers. Marisol was Eve’s mother and had raised Eve to be a sweet, if not outspoken, child. It did not take long for the rock to start to glow. Kimber reached into the red coals and rolled the rock to the inner edge of the pit, letting it cool momentarily while her mother finished the final few stitches. When Kimberly was done, Kimber picked the rock up and slid it into the wool sleeve, hugging it tightly to her body and basking in its lava-like warmth.
“There, something to keep you cozy,” Kimberly said in her singsong voice. “I feel the relationship between our species growing more and more strained... and it’s winter on the surface.” Kimber knew exactly what her mother was alluding to. Tensions were growing between the Council of the Caverns and the Auroreans, and no one quite knew what was going to happen in tomorrow’s meeting. The council held a public meeting, called the Inannian Address, every year to discuss and then vote upon the direction of the city.
It was always a somber affair. The council would be seated at the center of the largest cavern room, the Rotunda, and divided into sections would sit the citizens of humanity’s last city. The Inannian Address was fashioned after what had once been called a State of the Union Address, which had later morphed into what was called a State of the Unified World Address. The ordeal was quite historic and always taken seriously. This year, the council had made it known that several new proposals were on the table, specifically regarding the Auroreans. The council’s grip on the Auroras’ day-to-day lives had been getting tighter every year, and a conflict was budding between the coexisting species.
Kimber wasn’t surprised that her mother knew of the deteriorating relationship between the Auroras and the council. The Mothers had always been revered in the caverns and had often been sought out to give guidance. Somehow, Kimberly always managed to be in the know. “Mother, are you aware of any of the new laws that the council is proposing?” Kimber asked softly. Her mother grumbled into the fire, gazing at the embers without actually seeing them.
“There are rumors,” she dropped her voice lower, “that the council wants to officially ban the mixing of blood between the two species.”
A few heart beats passed. Kimber did not say a word. She was appalled. Instantly her blood began to boil, but she did not respond. She had learned this critical coping technique from Kimberly long ago.
During the times of extreme anguish and stress, Kimber would watch her mother maintain a certain calm. Her mother had often told her that this calm was the key to opening many doors, and for years, Kimber paid attention. By controlling her own emotions, Kimberly could usually keep the upper hand in any given dispute- if for no other reason than the illusion of higher intelligence that grace often yields. For her uncanny temperament and insight, Kimberly was always chosen to represent the Mothers in the yearly addresses.
Kimber was way worse at controlling her temper than her mother, but she did try. Her mother never tried to correct her when Kimber would react to a provocation, but later when the mood cooled Kimberly would offer the same two gentle encouragements. That time grants wisdom to those who are patient, and that Kimber would grow into knowing which situations were important enough to not react to. As long as the discussion did not involve Caleb, Kimber had developed into a reasonably levelheaded debater.
“Did they give any reasons why they think a ban of this nature would be beneficial?” Kimber finally asked.
Kimber could hear a note of pride in her mother’s voice when her mother continued, acknowledging her daughter’s self-control. “The council thinks that to protect the delicate balance of life here in Inanna, the blood lines need to remain undiluted for a period of time, so we can all adequately do our jobs. Because if we cannot, none of us survive.” Kimber was staring down at her lavarock and listening, genuinely reflecting on her mother’s words.
While Kimber digested the information, Kimberly stared off into the distance as if meditating. The council had set up Inanna over twenty years ago. Although the members were quite aged now, they were still charged with the protection and direction of humanity’s last city. It was difficult to do, but as Kimber processed everything, she conceded a few points in the council’s favor. They were right; there was a delicate balance amongst the humans and the Auroras.
To be precise, the balance hung between the Auroras and Inanna itself. If the city had been inhabited by an entirely Aurorean population, the Aurorean species could survive. On the other hand, if the city had been only populated by the human species, the humans would have already been dead for years. However, just as the city was not inhabited by only Auroras, it was also not inhabited by only humans. There were twenty-three Auroras, and they relied on a city of approximately two hundred humans for food, shelter, community, and structure.
The basic jobs in Inanna boiled down to food production, research and technology, child rearing, engineering, and human-services. Each citizen knew that they were a crucial component in the formula of existence. They had been the Earth’s
top scientists and builders, asked to abandon family and friends without even saying goodbye after the flare was detected. They disappeared from the surface knowing that they had been hand-selected to be the survivors of humanity. There was no sense of entitlement. Only a somber understanding of duty and a gratefulness not to have been left above ground to die. So, it was here, in this subterranean Mecca of the minds, that the last holdout of intelligent life hid.
The Auroreans also had a very key role in the dawn of this new world. Although they were only embryos, rushed into the wombs of healthy and willing women in the days of the panic, they were the only hope that mankind had left. The Mothers did not even know if the in vitro process, administered by nameless scientists in a sterile building called the Bureau of Race Preservation, had worked before they were rushed into the caverns. The Global Alliance had made it clear to the selected individuals just how dire the situation was, and nobody had time to ask questions.
The Bureau of Race Preservation had always seemed fishy to Kimber. The citizens of Inanna knew its history well, as it was hailed as the government plan that had made the preservation of life possible. It had been established ninety-seven years ago, after World War III (officially christened The Last War) ended. The Bureau was one of the many emergency measures implemented by the Global Alliance in the formative years of the Harnessing. The Bureau of Race Preservation had one, and only one, goal.
Its purpose was to develop strategies to preserve the human genome at any cost. There had been zero regulation of the Bureau’s activities, and few people had the authority and secret clearances to even know what kind of research and development went on there. Due to the decree against genetic alteration and DNA manipulation, it was obvious why the Bureau was shrouded in such secrecy.
As far as the cavern’s council was concerned, the records of any Bureau related matters were either lost or were absolutely classified. Exact documentation was however, kept on the Aurorean gene. It was a topic that the children in Inanna, the humans and the Auroras alike, had studied at great length in school. Kimber could still see the depiction of the three curling DNA strands next to their corresponding sketches: a human, a snake, and a tiny little animal magnified under a microscope.