Larry smiled. “You’ll learn fast, and in no time you’ll be telling me how to run this place.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Anna laughed.
“Very well, let’s get started.” Larry went over to a console and returned with a layout of the Shell. “Okay, this is what we need to do–each of us needs to master one dome and be familiar with another.”
“So we’ll have a backup person for each module in case the expert can’t do their job?”
“Precisely. Providing what engineers call fault tolerance.”
The women studied the plan they had already memorized during their tour. “So who does what?” Jessica asked.
“Jessica, I’d like you to be in charge of Air, with me as your backup. I in turn will take charge of Geo, with Anna as backup. Anna, you’re in charge of Eco, with your mother under your command. Nicole, you’re of course responsible for Health. Elizabeth will be your support. Elizabeth, you’re in charge of Food, and Jessica will be your sous-chef.”
As he spoke, Larry set up a whiteboard on a stand, drew a floor plan of the Wheel, and wrote their names on the various domes:
They all gazed at Larry’s diagram for a couple of minutes.
“It might make more sense to have Anna or Jessica as my backup,” Nicole said, “but I guess they’ll be needed elsewhere. Other than that, it seems reasonable.” Elizabeth and Anna agreed.
Jessica frowned. “I’d rather back you up in the power plant. Anna’s more of a kitchen person.”
“Here’s my reasoning,” responded Larry. “We’ll all spend a lot of time in each of our two domes. I’ve planned it so that each of us will see a different person in our two domes. Since I’m supporting you in Air, I didn’t want you supporting me in Power, because then we’d see only each other most of the time. That would limit our interactions with the others.”
Jessica bit her lip, but Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “It’s probably a good idea to avoid such cliques,” she told her granddaughter. “That’s something I learned when counseling troubled families. Unless each member of a group has a close and independent relationship with each of the others, there is a risk of us-versus-them mindsets emerging.”
“Like what happened in Biosphere,” added Anna.
Jessica was unswayed. “I want to choose what I do, not have it shoved down my throat.” Getting no support from the others, she added: “Can’t we at least vote on it?”
Larry sighed. “Jessica, once again you force me to discuss something now that I wanted to avoid or at least put off.” He paused and took a deep breath. “The answer to your question is no. Not yet, anyway.”
Jessica flushed. “What? That’s … that’s bloody unfair!”
“I’m sorry. For the moment you don’t get to vote on anything.”
Jessica turned furiously to the other women. “Did you hear that? We get no say on anything, it seems. And you all just sit there and smile!”
“Jessica, dearest—” Elizabeth began, but Jessica cut in: “This is undemocratic!”
Larry, red in the face himself, took a couple of deep breaths, and spoke with a new steely tone in his voice: “You’re assuming that this is a democracy. It isn’t. Until you’ve been here long enough to understand how this place works, you’ll have to let me make the decisions. I’ll consult you if necessary and listen to your concerns. But I’ll make the final call.”
Jessica wiped angry tears on her sleeve. “But who appointed you leader? Why can’t it be someone else? Grandma, for example?”
Larry looked Jessica straight in the eye and spoke with calm deliberation. “I’m the leader because I designed this place. I made some blunders and I failed to take you all into my confidence. But for the most part my judgment has been sound. You can’t deny that. I took the Shroud’s threat seriously while most of the world ignored it. I figured out what type of shelter would work the best. Then I hired the world’s best scientists, architects, engineers, and workers to build it.” He paused for a long breath. “I know this place better than any of you, at least for now. In short, my leadership is the best hope for our survival.”
“I wouldn’t even dream of questioning your leadership, Larry!” said Anna, frowning at her younger sister. To her, from the day they first met, he could do no wrong. Yet Jessica seemed unable to show any respect or gratitude toward him. Anna wondered if things would have been different if Larry had been a more flawed individual—an alcoholic, say, or a hypochondriac. Perhaps then her sister would have been able to relate to him better.
“Thanks for your support, Anna,” said Larry. “To keep this place running, dozens of decisions need to be made daily—how much food or water to consume, how much each module should be heated, and so on. A democracy would imply that we’re all equally qualified to make these choices. But we’re not. Until you’ve all had a chance to learn how this facility works, I’m the most qualified. Of course, the situation will change. In time, some of you will surpass me in your knowledge of the systems here. Or I could fall ill. Then I’ll gladly hand over the reins.”
“But how?” said Jessica. “Each of us will be trapped in our own little bubble. How will we learn about the rest?”
“Good point. We need to have a routine of regular classes, where each of us educates the others. I’ll set the ball rolling and tell you a little bit about everything here. As your knowledge of your module grows and exceeds mine, each of you can teach classes as well. In time, we should all develop at least a working knowledge of the entire complex and all its modules. At that point I’ll happily share the decision making with you.”
Larry paused for a second and continued. “Jessica’s question about democracy reminds me of a larger point I want to make. The past few days have been so crazy, and our arrival here has been so stressful, that we may not have had time to realize the extremely unusual situation we’re in. As far as we know, there may be nobody left alive but us. And as Jessica pointed out, the world outside is beyond our reach now, perhaps forever, and we’re restricted to this relatively tiny space. The normal rules of human society are no longer relevant.” Larry paused to let this sink in. “Most of those rules, like freedom, modesty, privacy—they evolved to serve large populations living in large spaces, which is the opposite of our situation here. Here in the Shell, survival takes precedence over almost every other consideration. Just as we had to suspend our feelings of modesty during the shower before we moved in here, we may have to reimagine other norms and principles that we might have taken for granted in the world outside.”
Larry took a deep breath and added with slow emphasis: “We’ll never do anything evil or hurtful. But if our survival hinges on it, we must be prepared to do what would previously have been distasteful, taboo, or even criminal.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Journals
The rest of the evening passed without drama. After a relatively cheerful supper, the family gathered back at Central and sat in companionable silence for a while. One by one they began to yawn.
Larry cleared his throat. “Before we retire, I need a small favor.”
Anna looked at him quizzically. “What type of favor? Distasteful, taboo, criminal, or all of the above?”
Larry chuckled. “No, no, just a little thing. I hope all of us survive the Shroud and go on to lead happy lives outside. But in case none of us makes it, it would be nice to leave some written record of our existence here.”
“You mean, like, keep a diary?” Anna asked.
“I hate diaries.” Jessica said. “Waste of time and energy.”
Larry looked at her thoughtfully. “If you feel so strongly about it, I won’t insist.”
Nicole suggested: “What if we didn’t write an entry every day, but only on special occasions? Like once a year?” She looked inquiringly at her daughter.
Jessica shrugged her shoulders. “I could live with that.”
After some discussion, the family agreed that each would keep a private journal in which they w
ould write entries on just a few occasions—that evening; after completing their first year; and at the end of every fifth year of their Shell existence.
We’ll be lucky to reach three entries, Larry thought, but he said nothing except to thank Jessica for her cooperation.
She rolled her eyes. “Good thing the journal’s private. You may not like what I write.”
Larry’s journal
Today was eventful indeed. Against all odds, we managed to reach the Shell safely. Everything here is working as it’s supposed to. I showed the Millers around the Wheel and the Honeycomb. They seem to like the complex, although Jessica had some valid questions. Lunch was a success, but the meeting in the evening didn’t go as I’d expected. I was planning to say a few encouraging things, tell them how glad I am and how lucky I feel that they’re here with me, and discuss our future here in broad terms. Naively, I thought relief and gratitude would prevail, and the meeting would have a more upbeat, celebratory tone, despite the unspeakable tragedy that has been visited on the planet.
As it turned out, I got a lot of push back from Jessica from the get go. She’s highly intelligent and raised some valid concerns. I might have been better off consulting her and the others as I was building the Shell, but it’s too late now for that. As she rightly (if harshly) pointed out, I could have tried harder to save more people, including the ones that built the Shell. In a way, I’m lucky that I’m an only child and my parents died when I was young—I didn’t have to worry about them. But all my friends, their partners, their kids … it breaks my heart that they’re all probably dead. Could I have done more for them? Perhaps. But in my defense, I did speak to a few of them about building a shelter from the approaching calamity. But nobody seemed interested. Even Fred—who knew more about the Shroud than anyone else—rejected the idea as too little, too late. What was I to do? And now that it’s all in the past, how should we proceed? Wallow in guilt and despair, or embrace the life that lies ahead?
Then Jessica raised some thorny issues about roles and leadership that I was hoping to address later. Although it caught me off-guard, I think I managed to respond in a thoughtful and respectful manner. Perhaps I sounded dictatorial when I spoke about my role as leader, but I had no choice when she challenged me directly. I’m hoping that all this is just some healthy skepticism on her part, and that she doesn’t really question my judgment at every point. That would be highly discordant. I’m hoping for a long, harmonious existence for all of us here.
It’s too soon to have a revolt on my hands. I don’t even know how I’d deal with it. Even great leaders, including peace lovers like Gandhi and Mandela, were accused of being ruthless with their opponents—maybe that’s how they achieved their power and influence. But I love Jessica like my own daughter. How can I be ruthless with someone I love?
Anna’s journal
Oh my God! What an incredible day it’s been!! This morning, as I was freezing to death in our basement, I had given up all hope. The sun had vanished forever, and everything around was dying or already dead. Saddest of all, we’d seen no sign of Larry—I didn’t realize until then how much I cared for him. Even at death’s door, his absence grieved me. And then the most marvelous thing happened—a knock on the door, and who should it be but our beloved, peerless Larry himself? At that instant, I knew there was hope. Larry, you are and will always be my hero! Who else but you could rescue your family from a dying planet and whisk them away to safety and comfort?
And what an amazing place this is! I can’t even begin to imagine all the brainpower and effort that Larry has put into it. Both the Wheel and the Honeycomb are incredible. I think I love every inch of it, even the stuffy Power dome! But my favorite, of course, is Eco. What a collection of plants! And how sweet of Larry to grow flowers there, all the ones I love! Jessica gave him grief for that, poor guy.
I can’t understand why Jessica is so anti-Larry. If it weren’t for him, we’d be twice dead already. Perhaps she doesn’t really enjoy life and is bitter with him for dragging her back from the grave. Sounds crazy, but how else to explain her relentless hostility? And Larry, poor thing, doesn’t know how to tackle her—he’s tried being nice, respectful, considerate—but she doesn’t give an inch. Finally, at the meeting today, he was forced to go against character and put his foot down, and I think it hurt him far more than her. Poor, dear Larry. I hope Jessica doesn’t destroy him.
I must seem heartless for dwelling on my own little problems instead of bemoaning the terrible fate that has struck the billions who walked this planet. My only experience of grief was when daddy left us—for a year I cried buckets, never smiled, and still choke up at the memory. But the death of billions from the Shroud? I can’t feel it yet. Perhaps I’m too numb. I think we have neurological mechanisms that allow us to feel and cope with the loss of a loved one, to mourn for them. But how do you mourn an entire planet?
Nicole’s journal
The world is gone. I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I have the vocabulary to deal with something of this magnitude. Almost anything I can say to express my horror and grief seems to be incredibly trite and inadequate. Perhaps it’s best to not try to express the inexpressible and focus on practical matters.
I should never have doubted Larry—all this time, while I suspected him of losing interest in us or worse, he was toiling on our behalf! He was building and perfecting this place, all for us. The planet outside is dead, but in here, with Larry, I think we have a fighting chance to survive the Shroud. Too bad that Jessica’s always needling him, but he loves her, and knows that she too loves him in her own way. I’m sure they’ll find a way to get along.
My main responsibility is keeping everyone healthy. Only problem—I’m a surgeon. Give me a perforated appendix and I know how to fix it. But keeping people healthy isn’t something I’ve done since my residency years ago. What should I be worrying about? Infectious diseases, I guess. Perhaps vitamin D deficiency, because sunlight is absent? Bone loss? Tooth decay? Eye problems? Too many questions. I hope the computer database will have some answers. Larry says it contains every medical paper ever published!
Minor gripe: Larry, poor guy, doesn’t know squat about women’s needs. He has provided sanitary pads to last us just six months, whereas he could have got us menstrual cups instead! So once the pads run out, we’ll have to improvise. The clothes he got for us are ill-fitting, uncomfortable, and ugly, but we have the ones we came in with (now 100% sterilized and bug-free after their deep-freeze in Entry). And on the positive side the robes he gave us are well-fitting, comfortable, warm, and practical. He seems to have a reasonable supply of them, and shoes too, so we’ll manage fine.
The gym in the Health dome looks really nice. I should perhaps start everyone on a regular exercise program. I hope Jessica won’t be too resistant, she hates working out. But exercise and fitness are not optional here. How am I going to force her? Perhaps Mum can talk to her. Come to think of it, she too needs to start working out too. She’s overweight. We don’t want her to become diabetic or have a stroke.
Jessica’s journal
Well, we didnt die—yet. Yes, we owe Larry our non-death—that word is more approp for our existence here than life. Ill grant that. Anna thinks Im mean & ungrateful bcs I keep challenging him. Excuse me for not sharing her crush on him. Obviously, hes sweated bullets creating this place & taken great risks—mostly unnecessary—to bring us here. So why am I not feeling overjoyed, brimming w/ gratitude, ready to bow down before him as my savior?
Because Im not sure life in this bubble is worth living. Ok, my old life wasnt perfect, but at least I had my museums, libraries, activities. And what to look forward to here? Hours with noisy machinery in the air dome with Larry? Hes nice enough, but bland as beeswax. Hang out in Central w/ Anna? She bores me to distraction. Mums nice, but beyond worrying about my health she doesnt have much to say. The only 1 I like being with is Grandma. Maybe makes sense for me to work with her in Food dome, after all.
Contrary to what Anna might think, I dont hate Larry. Might even be a bit fond. But a little of him goes a long way for me. Will try harder to avoid butting heads with him, but hes so stuffy & pompous I cant help myself!
Elizabeth’s journal
How can I ever find words to describe the horror that has befallen our beloved planet Earth? To think of all those billions of innocent beautiful lives snuffed out like candles in a storm! All the love and toil and heartbreak of a thousand generations destroyed in the snap of a celestial finger! My heart brims over with sorrow. Yet, somehow, in the midst of this horror and sorrow, I’m alive and am united with the people I love the most. Deep inside I will continue to weep for my dead planet, but my energies from this day forward I will devote to the welfare of my loved ones.
It’s a true miracle that we’re all safe and sound. What a blessing it’s been that Larry came into our lives! And to think that if it weren’t for the Shroud he would never have come to Simpsonville to look for a place to build the Shell—and never met Nicole! He is so much like George—the nobility, the gentleness, the thoughtfulness—but without my poor husband’s weakness for food and drink. I lost George far too soon, and dear Nicole, though she won’t admit it, never fully recovered from that. And being dumped by her beloved Philip when Anna and Jessica were just children didn’t help her at all. It wasn’t until Larry came along that I saw her happy smile again.
It’s a blessing to all be together, alive, unhurt, and in such pleasant surroundings. But I do worry about how we’ll all get along as the weeks, months, and years go by. I already see friction between my granddaughters that I never really noticed before. Poor Jessica, she’s always had a hard time with authority, ever since her dear daddy walked out one day and never came back. Although no one could be more different from Philip (charming but deceitful) than Larry (kind, gentle, but straight-laced), I guess she associates them, and at some level distrusts Larry and is unwilling to open herself to his love. Or maybe I have it wrong, and it’s because he’s so different from her father that she’s unable to accept him. Perhaps she’s also jealous of her sister’s close bond with Larry. She doesn’t realize how bitter it was for Anna to be abandoned by her father as well, how fragile she is beneath that surface sprightliness and enthusiasm, and how much she needs Larry’s kindness and strength. Maybe one of these days the two girls will have a heart-to-heart talk and realize that they aren’t so different from each other after all. It’s just that each one deals with her loss differently—Anna by seeking love, Jessica by recoiling from it.
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