by Mari Mancusi
I shift in his arms, rolling over so we’re face-to-face. He opens his eyes, mere inches from mine. A beautiful, sleepy blue, they sparkle like crystal from under his long sooty eyelashes. He smiles a shy smile and reaches up to brush a lock of hair from my face. My heart breaks at the simple gesture. How am I going to say good-bye to him?
“Good morning,” he whispers, kissing me lightly on the nose.
“Good morning,” I say. Wishing I could wake up this way every day for the rest of my life. But that’s impossible. I know it. He knows it. And we both need to stop pretending and face it.
After a few more minutes.
We lie there together, legs and arms intertwined, stroking each other softly, neither person very interested in moving away. At last, he grins sheepishly and sits up, running a hand through the long strands of his tousled hair. “Would you like some breakfast?” he asks. “I could go stand in line to see if they’re doling out egg-synths this morning. It’s a long shot, but you never know.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m not hungry.” I’m actually starving, but I can’t bear the thought of making him go wait in line. Or even get out of bed.
“It’s probably for the best anyway. That fight last night—when I was bashing those guards’ heads together. I’m afraid one of them might have realized what I really am.”
My cozy thoughts fade as I remember all that had happened the night before. “What will they do if they figure it out?” I ask.
“Work to kill me, probably,” Dawns says with a shrug.
I sit up, horrified, worried. “No! They can’t! That’s … that’s …” I don’t know how to appropriately express my horror.
What difference does it make? a voice jeers in my head. Dead or alive, after today you’ll never see him again.
My heart pangs and I want to cry. I need to get back to Earth. I have to. But how can I leave Dawn behind? And I already know he won’t come with me. If he wouldn’t leave for Mariah, there’s no way he’d leave for Skye.
Dawn looks at me, a thoughtful expression on his face, then he rises from the bed. “Bathroom,” he says. “Then we get dressed and head over to HQ to assess the damage.”
“But what about …” Did he forget? Great. That’s going to make this whole thing even tougher.
Dawn stops at the doorway, shoulders slumped, frozen in place, obviously remembering. “You still want to go back,” he realizes aloud.
“Well, I mean, um, yeah,” I say, stumbling over the words. It’s hard to talk when everything inside me is begging that I reconsider. But no, it’s impossible. I have a life on Earth and I need to go back. I have responsibilities, commitments, family, friends. I can’t just abandon them all, can I? After all, isn’t that the same thing Dawn condemns Mariah for doing, going the other way?
Is what you have on Earth really so special? the voice inside me nags. Don’t you think you could do a lot more good by staying here?
“Fine,” Dawn says, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll drive you to Moongazer Palace instead. Let you get on with your life. Sorry to have kept you here so long.” But he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds angry.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to shake off the ache that’s settled into my bones. “I’d appreciate that.”
Dawn stalks out of the room. A moment later, I hear the bathroom door slam shut. I curl into the fetal position on the bed, wracked with guilt. How can I do this? Just leave him? Leave the Dark Siders. Go back to my life and never return. Never even hear how their fight ends, if they eventually won equality or were resubjected by the government.
I try to remind myself of all that I’ll be going back to: RealLife—finally released to the public. Craig—poor guy, I’ve been so vacant of late. School, homework, my family. Why does it all suddenly seem empty and meaningless?
My troubling thoughts are interrupted as Dawn returns, standing silhouetted in the doorway. “Well?” he asks, his voice cold. “Let’s get a move on. I have a lot to do today after I drop you off.”
I crawl out of bed, the cold air biting at my bare legs as I abandon the blanket. Dawn steps aside as I walk out of the bedroom, but I can’t help catch a glimmer of hurt in his eyes as I pass. It makes me ache inside, to recognize the pain he can’t completely mask. Obviously deep inside he’s been hoping, praying, that somehow, some way, I’ll magically transform into the girl he loves. The girl capable of leading a revolution.
But, I remind myself, even the illustrious Mariah left in the end. And now, through me, Dawn has to relive her betrayal, her exodus to Earth, all over again. Not that it’s fair, really, to compare the two scenarios. Not totally. She left her world. I want to return to mine. But for some reason, that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.
“Before you go,” Dawn says slowly. “May I show you a few things?”
“Sure,” I say—probably too quickly, too eagerly, desperate to spend a few more minutes with him. But life on Earth has waited this long; it can wait a few hours longer.
“Okay. Go shower and get ready.” He sounds more cheerful already. “We’ll make a few stops before heading to Moongazer Palace.”
I shower and change, finding a closet stuffed full of clothes. Mariah’s clothes. I choose something simple: a plain pair of black pants, corset top, and trench coat. No need for frilly skirts and platform boots today, no matter how cute they are.
We head out of the apartment, across the water-soaked hallway, down the creaky elevator, and through the dismal lobby to where Dawn parked his hover bike. We get on the bike and zoom through the tunnels. I want to ask where we’re going, but I don’t feel much like shouting over the roar of the bike.
We stop at a small building, its metal facade built into the rock. Once inside, I recognize immediately that it must be some kind of one-room schoolhouse. A couple dozen Terran children of various ages sit cross-legged on the floor in front of a teacher who is reading from a tattered book. The children are dressed in rags and some of them wear soiled bandages wrapped around their arms or heads. All are terribly mutated. Extra fingers. Third eyes. Humped backs. They’re hideous in appearance, yet the light shining on their faces as their teacher reads makes them somehow more beautiful than a playground full of Gap Kids models.
“The government doesn’t allow the Dark Siders to go to school,” Dawn explains. “They figure a little education can be dangerous, so they banned it. Kids are supposed to go to work in the mines as soon as they’re old enough to carry rocks. But Mariah felt everyone should learn to read and write. She said the more knowledge we could acquire, the less helpless we would be.”
“That makes sense,” I say, taken aback by the sight of a child with an extra arm trying to write on a clay slate.
“So we rotate them in and out. One week mining, the next learning. That way there always appear to be children in the mines if the government comes down to check up on us,” Dawn says. “The problem is getting teachers. That’s one of the reasons Mariah was so desperate to bring more Indys to our side. Sister Anne here is one such instructor. She’s retired from her headmistress job in Luna Park and risks her life daily to come down here to teach. If the government knew of her behavior, she’d be punished for sure.”
I look at the teacher with newfound respect. “So, some of the Indys do help?”
“A few. Not enough. Not by a long shot. Most Indys are too blinded by whatever the government dangles in front of them. They spend their lives enjoying the restaurants and alcohols and shops. And now there’s ‘Gazing. Why help the people in your own world when you can hop over to a better one?”
Once again I feel that pang of guilt stab at my gut. Here I am, judging the Indys, when really, aren’t I just as bad? Wanting to go back to Earth, refusing to help these poor people, these destitute children whom I could easily teach to read and write if I wanted? When I’m back, will I be able to forget their faces? Or am I in for a lifetime of guilt, knowing I turned my back on them?
Bet you wished you c
hose the blue pill, Neo.
This wasn’t fair. At least Neo was given a choice. He wanted to know. I never asked to be dragged into Terra. To learn the truth of its world. I would have been totally content living out my days in the Matrix, innocent and unaware of it all.
But now that I’ve seen it, what can I do?
The teacher looks up from her book. Her face brightens as she sees us at the back of the room. “Mariah,” she cries. “Oh my goodness, children, look who’s here! It’s Sister Mariah!”
The kids break into applause and I can feel my face heat at the oh-so-undeserved praise. Here I am, standing, wishing I’d never met them, and they’re gazing up at me like I’m their savior.
I give a weak wave. What else can I do? I’m not cruel or selfish enough to disappoint a room full of poverty-stricken, mutant children.
“Mariah used to come here and read,” Dawn whispers. “Even with her busy schedule, she always made time to do it, at least once a week. And she brought the best stories with her. Stolen from the Indy libraries above.”
I nod, suddenly realizing what I should do. I take a step forward. “Well, guys,” I say. “I didn’t bring a book today, but if you like, I can tell you a little story.”
The kids cheer. Sister Anne smiles gratefully, standing up so that I can take her seat. I walk to the front of the room and sit down, facing the kids, letting their radiating joy beam onto me like sunshine as they wait with bated breath.
I smile back at them. “Once upon a time …”
I tell three stories—each taken from adventures created for the RealLife video game—my rapt audience begging for more each time I finish. Finally Sister Anne laughingly waves them down, saying that obviously Mariah has more important things to do and they need to let me get on with my day. I reluctantly agree, though I’d have stayed for another hour or two if she hadn’t intervened. I’ve never had such a captive audience.
I rise from my seat, wave good-bye to the children, then head to the back of the room where Dawn stands waiting, a small smile on his face. One of the children, a blond pigtailed pixie, runs over and throws her arms around my legs, squeezing me with a tiny fierceness.
“I knew you’d return, Sister Mariah,” she murmurs, refusing to let go. “I just knew it.”
Her words are almost too much. I shoot a look at Dawn, feeling the tears well in my eyes. He smiles at me, looking a tiny bit smug. So, this was his plan when he said he had to “show me a few things”? His clever way to convince me to stay?
He certainly is making it harder.
“What’s your name?” I ask the little girl.
“Crystal,” she says, then sticks a dirty thumb in her mouth.
“Well, Crystal, you study hard in school and someday you can grow up to be an Eclipser, too,” I tell her.
She grins from ear to ear and prances back to her classmates. “I’m gonna be an Eclipser,” she brags. “Sister Mariah told me so.”
We say our good-byes and exit the schoolhouse. I give one more longing glance as we board the hover bike. Those children, their faces so full of hope. What lives are they destined to lead?
“Can I show you one more thing before we go?” Dawn asks.
“Sure,” I say, giving in easily this time. The last thing I want to do right now is leave.
Our second destination turns out to be a secret underground greenhouse. The workers take the time to show me how they carefully cultivate plants and give them the artificial sunlight they need to survive underground. The greenhouses, like the schoolhouse, are illegal. The government doesn’t allow Dark Siders to grow their own food—they’re supposed to only eat rations grown on government-sanctioned farms. But rations are always being cut, the gardeners explain, and the old and sick Dark Siders are often left out completely. The government doesn’t seem to have a problem with starving their slave labor force once they’ve become superfluous.
“So Mariah decided it would be good if we created our own food to supplement rations. We stole the technology from the government-sanctioned places—after all, Dark Siders usually make up most of the labor—and started our own,” Dawn tells me. “Maybe someday we’ll be able to completely feed ourselves and not be dependent on them for food. That’ll be a major step toward our independence.”
“I’ll bet,” I say, walking up and down the rows of plants. “I can’t believe you can grow all this stuff underground.”
“They’re specially bred plants that don’t need as much light for photosynthesis.”
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is you have a whole hidden underground farm. With cows and horses.”
Dawn beams. “Now that you mention it …” He reaches for my hand. I hesitate a moment, then slide my fingers into his. “Come with me.”
We get back on the bike and zoom down another tunnel, this time going deeper underground. Finally, we come to what appears to be a dead-end, the passageway blocked by crumbling rubble, as if there was a cave-in long ago. Dawn parks his bike and motions for me to follow as he weaves through the boulder field. I keep up, wondering what on earth—make that Terra—he’s going to do when he arrives at the dead end.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
He stops right in front of the massive wall of rubble. Then he turns around, winks at me, and steps right through! The rocks shimmer a moment, and suddenly I’m alone on the wrong side of the wall.
“Another optical illusion?” I ask, wondering if he can hear me on the other side.
He pops his head back through. The effect is more than a bit disconcerting. “Something like that,” he says. “Gotta hide our most valuable treasures any way we can.”
I take a deep breath, put out my hands, and take a step toward what looks like solid rock. Sure enough, my hand slides through easily and I manage to step to the other side with no effort at all.
“Huh,” I say, looking back. On this side, it appears as if there’s no barricade whatsoever. I can even see Dawn’s bike, parked down the road. “You guys really have thought of everything.”
“Well, Mariah believed if you have secrets as important as we have, we’d better do a damn good job hiding them,” Dawn says. He steps up to a massive steel door set into the wall, complete with a high-tech combination lock.
“No thumb sensor?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” Dawn says. “Only a handful of people know the combination to this safe, and we change it every few weeks so that no one can give it away, even under torture. After all, a thumb can be amputated.” He turns the combination lock a few times and the door squeaks open. “Here we go.” He bows. “After you, m’lady.”
I step through the door and gasp as I realize what’s on the other side: a series of metal cages, cut into the caves. Each contains animals. Cow, goats, chickens. It’s a regular Old McDonald’s farm.
“Nice,” I say, wandering from cage to cage. “I haven’t seen an animal since I got to this place. Duske told me they were practically extinct.” I reach my hand between the bars to pat a docile pinto horse on the nose. “Hey, baby,” I coo. “Sorry I don’t have any carrots.”
I can feel Dawn come up behind me. “This was Mariah’s pride and joy,” he says. “Far beyond any of the petty tricks we’d play on the government. This is our real future here. Our own little Noah’s Ark.”
“Where did you get them?”
“We stole embryos from the government labs and grew them. They’re clones. One male and one female of each species.”
“But Duske said the animals are impotent. That they can’t breed.”
“Funny, that,” Dawn says, pointing to a tiny snow white lamb in one pen. “We haven’t had that problem. I think perhaps that’s just another one of the government’s lies. Another way to control us.”
I crouch to my knees to pet the lamb’s soft wool coat. “So, you’re breeding them?”
“Yup. We have six cows, fourteen sheep, and twenty-two goats. It’s not enough
milk by far, but it does help with orphan babies who don’t have a wet nurse. And we’re widening the facilities in hopes to someday accommodate all of our children. Our ultimate goal is to someday have enough animals to use them for daily necessities—leather, food, that kind of thing.”
“It’s funny,” I say, getting up off my knees. “When you first said stuff like ‘rebellion’ and ‘revolution,’ all I could think of was Star Wars or something. You know, guns and battles and, well, light sabers and stuff.”
“Maybe someday,” Dawn says with a small smile. “But we’re not there yet. We’ve been stockpiling weapons, training soldiers, and creating complex computer defense barriers for Strata Two and Three. But we can’t let on to any of this before we’re fully operational. The Circle would simply send in their army and stamp us out—like they did the day Mariah disappeared. They set us back pretty far. But we’re still going. If we keep working as we have been, in a couple years perhaps we’ll be ready for the real action.”
He says the last bit with such intensity that I suddenly feel sad to think I won’t actually be here to see that day come. I bet the battle will be spectacular, with the dedicated, downtrodden Dark Siders rising up to finally take back their world.
“In the meantime,” Dawn continues, “we’re also putting effort into bettering the day-to-day lives of the Dark Siders. By introducing education, growing our own food, and raising animals, we can create a more habitable world that’s less dependent on this government. Healthy, happy, educated Dark Siders will be much better equipped when the final showdown does come.”
“You really have it all figured out,” I say with admiration.
Dawn nods. “But none of this would have ever happened without Mariah.”
“She must have been an amazing person.”