Unlight

by Chandra Shekhar

  “Full marks for understatement,” said Jessica.

  “I think we exhausted our superlatives long ago,” said Elizabeth.

  Anna refilled everyone’s glass. “Feels like I’m living in a dream,” she said. “Maybe I’ll wake up one day to the sounds of, you know, traffic outside and Mrs. Rack’s collie barking next door.”

  Jessica laughed. “Or maybe that was the dream and this is the reality.”

  “It feels unreal to be alive,” Nicole said.

  Silence prevailed for a minute. “It does feel unreal that we made it this far,” Larry said at last.

  “You didn’t expect us to?”

  “To be honest, no. The Shell is like a space station—so many things have to work properly for it to be livable. I’m amazed they have.”

  Elizabeth put her glass down and placed an arm around each of her granddaughters. “I’ve said ‘miracle’ too many times, but I’m going to say it again. Any life is a miracle, but being alive now feels even more miraculous than ever.” After a pause, she added: “I hate to ask, but how much longer will we be able to carry on like this?”

  Elizabeth had once again given Larry the opening he was looking for. His sense of delicacy and fear of spoiling a golden moment had prevented him from bringing up the issue on his own.

  “I’m glad you asked.” He stood up, paced a step or two, and sat down again. “This is a conversation we should have had long ago, years ago, but somehow the moment never felt right. Things were working, thanks to our combined efforts, and I didn’t want to strike a … negative note.” Larry looked around and got a series of sympathetic nods from the women; until now, they too had preferred to dwell in the present. “Thanks to our combined efforts, nothing major has gone wrong. The system design has proved robust.”

  “So far, so good?” Nicole asked.

  “Right.”

  “But looking ahead?”

  “Looking ahead, there are three main areas of concern. One—something vital could break down and be hard to repair. Of course, that ‘something vital’ includes not just equipment but all of us as well. By maintaining ourselves and our equipment in good condition, we can reduce that risk. I used to fear that the confinement might drive us crazy, make us go around wrecking things or something.” Gesturing toward Elizabeth, he added: “But thanks in large part to our resident Lama’s benign influence, that danger seems remote.”

  “I did nothing,” Elizabeth said, blushing.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” said Anna. “Your being here is enough.”

  “My sister’s right for once,” said Jessica, and Anna stuck her tongue out at her. “You stop us from being mean to each other, Grandma.”

  “We’re lucky to have you,” Nicole said.

  “Absolutely,” said Larry. “Moving on to concern number two—we could run low on food or water. If that happens … well, we don’t waste much here, but we could try to be even more frugal. Beyond that, we could also reduce our food intake a bit, couldn’t we?”

  Nicole nodded. “We certainly can. We’re now averaging about 2,100 calories a day each. We could cut that down to 1,800 or even 1,500.”

  “With no adverse health effects?” asked Larry.

  “No, apart from becoming leaner and hungrier. We could trim our morning workout to compensate for the lower energy intake. Since we’d be sweating less, we’d also get less thirsty.”

  “Mild hibernation?” asked Jessica.

  “Yes, something like that. Within a range, we can eat and exercise more, or eat and exercise less, while staying healthy.”

  “The third concern,” Larry continued, “is running low on energy. This is hard to predict, but I’m hoping that we can see it coming well in advance and cut down on our heating needs. We could, for instance, shift the stuff in the Health dome to the basement of Central. That’s not optimal, but we could then save energy by turning off all heat to the Health dome. We could also turn down the temperature in Central a tad and put on an extra layer of clothing.”

  “Sounds even more like hibernation,” said Jessica.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Anyway, those are my three concerns.”

  “You’ve missed the most important one,” said Jessica.

  “Did I? Which one?”

  “Something else could happen. Something unforeseen.”

  Anna made a face. “Ugh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Denial won’t help,” said Jessica. Unlike Larry, she always spoke her mind bluntly and never tried to soften the impact of her words. “There could be some crisis we haven’t prepared for. Then everything will fall apart like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “Good Lord!” said Anna. “Don’t be such a doomsayer.”

  But Jessica went on. “It’s just like what Mum told us about the human body—once the heart fails, the lungs collect fluid, the kidneys shut down. Everything goes kaput.”

  Nicole gave a quick, troubled glance at Elizabeth. Jessica had unintentionally hit on Nicole’s worry about her mother’s condition. That was exactly the kind of cascade of failures that ER teams tried to prevent but was much harder to do with the Shell’s limited facilities. Elizabeth, however, looked as tranquil as ever. If her health worried her, it didn’t show.

  But Jessica wasn’t done. “Know what destroyed past civilizations? Things they didn’t expect. Take the Easter Islanders and the Indus Valley people. They flourished until ecological collapse and other factors wiped them out. Take the Romans. All their might was useless when the Goths appeared. Then the Mayans and Incans, who were helpless when the Spanish landed with Old World weapons and diseases. And then the Okhotsk people in the Kurils. They were nice and happy so long as tribes in bigger islands supplied tools and weapons; when those people moved away, the Okhotsk went extinct.” She paused for effect and then concluded: “And the human race itself has been wiped out because the Shroud caught us unprepared.”

  The others looked at one another uncomfortably. “That’s a fascinating lecture, but what’s your point?” Anna asked her sister. Jessica just shrugged her shoulders. She had said what she thought and couldn’t be bothered to justify it. She scorned Anna’s principle of not saying anything pessimistic unless it led to positive action.

  “Is there any way we can prepare for such situations?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Nope,” Jessica broke in as Larry was about to answer. “We can’t prepare, since we don’t know what’s going to hit us. We might anticipate some disaster and plan for it, but we might be completely off target. Remember all the effort to fight global warming just before the Shroud appeared? Remember Larry’s satellite network?”

  The other women cast a troubled look at Larry, who sighed. “It seemed like a good idea then.”

  “But it solved the wrong problem,” Jessica said, and Larry nodded ruefully.

  “You make it sound so hopeless, dear! Surely we can do something?” Elizabeth turned to Larry for support.

  Larry cleared his throat. “Jessica is right in that we can’t prepare for a specific unknown crisis. But that doesn’t mean we’re helpless. No, I think the best preparation is what we’re all doing everyday—staying healthy, informed, and vigilant. And functioning harmoniously as a team.”

  “Then we hope for the best, right?” asked Anna.

  “Absolutely. And we have plenty of reason for hope. Because if ever there was a team of people ideally suited to survive any crisis, it’s us.”

  Elizabeth stood up. “And on that note, I’d like to propose a multiple toast.” She picked up the champagne bottle and doled out the last of it. “Firstly, to the Shell, our protector, for keeping us safe and comfortable. Then to all of us, for staying loving and united despite all the challenges we’ve had to endure. Next, to our planet Earth, hoping that one day in the not-too-distant future it can shrug off its Shroud and resume its life-nurturing ways.” She paused, waiting for everyone to drink, before continuing on a softer note. “And finally, though this might be a l
ittle immodest, I’d like to propose a toast to myself.” She paused as everyone looked at her in surprise and expectation.

  “Here’s to hoping I can remain alive long enough to see you all leading normal, happy lives outside.”

  Tears flowed freely after that. Nicole sobbed her heart out as all the anxiety about her mother’s health finally found expression. The girls, who had always taken their Grandma as a constant fixture in their lives, broke down in tears as well. Larry, whose affection for her knew no bounds, wept silently.

  Everyone huddled very close that night as they slept. They had never needed each other more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Journals

  Larry’s journal

  Five years in the Shell … now that’s a milestone we’re lucky to reach. I couldn’t say it aloud, but I really didn’t think we would make it beyond a year or two, at least not without major crises. And yet we have. For something that had never been tested before, something that was nothing but a prototype, the Shell has succeeded beyond all expectations. And my fellow Shellmates have been beyond terrific—I don’t want to start praising them or I’ll never stop. Suffice it to say that each of them, in her unique way, has helped change what would be a nightmare situation into one that’s not just bearable, but actually joyous and wonderful. If it weren’t for the grim reality outside, I’d be jumping with delight.

  So I guess I have much to be grateful for. But my anxiety has only been growing. I tried to put a brave face on it during our quinquennial celebration, but I’m not at all easy in my mind about our future. The first three areas of concern—food/water, equipment/health, and energy—are more worrisome than I made them out to be. Food/water shortages I think we can handle in the short or medium term, since we have a good inventory of what we have and can pace ourselves. But a crisis related to one or both of the other two could hit us without warning, and I’m not sure how well we’d cope. The health situation seems to be under control and we have back-ups in case of equipment failure, so even that is a lesser worry. The energy situation is the real concern. The well is as hot as ever, but I’m worried that it could suddenly start to cool. Things would get really bleak then. Perhaps we should start work on our plan B—heating with diesel.

  But worrisome though these scenarios are, they can’t fully explain my dread, as that’s what it really is. I hinted at unknown dangers that may be around us. I can’t put my finger on any, though. Everything is going great really, and I’m as happy as I could ever hope to be under these circumstances. But I have this sense of impending calamity that I’m unable to shake off. I hope I’m just being paranoid—but I never used to be.

  As far as the outside is concerned, we used to be so anxious during our first few months, constantly monitoring the exterior light and temperature gauges and checking for radio transmissions. But now we’ve almost stopped caring. So much so that, when the gauges went kaput a year or two ago, we didn’t bother fixing them. At that time, it was still -127 degrees and pitch dark, and I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it is now. The radio too has gone on the blink. It’s almost as if the gods want to shield us from the grim external reality.

  In this comfortable yet precarious existence, the Millers have been marvelous companions. I’ve always been very close to Anna and Elizabeth, and now I can add Jessica to that list. She and I don’t rub each other the wrong way like in the old days. We lock horns once in a while, as she’s far too intelligent to let anything dubious from me go unchallenged, but now it’s all done without rancor. On the flip side, I have to reconcile myself to the fact that Nicole and I are no longer an “item.” Had I written my diary last year, I’d have noted that sometime during Years Three and Four our relationship petered out and we became just friends. I’m not sure why this happened, but it somehow felt like a natural progression. We don’t have enough in common to be lovers, I guess. Nevertheless, I’m sure that each of us will always remain a caring friend and companion to the other. I continue to admire and respect her, and I think she feels the same.

  Having broken up with my fiancée, I would normally have got into an intimate relationship with someone else in due course. But nothing is normal in the Shell. I continue to remain single, if that word has any meaning here. One might wonder why the constant presence of two very attractive girls doesn’t create temptation for me, but Anna and Jessica are the closest I’ll ever come to having daughters of my own. What I feel toward them is not lust but love, deep, pure, intense love. And I think the feeling is mutual.

  And what to say of Elizabeth? My regard for her grows with each day, but so does my concern. That heartbreaking speech of hers! Was it just a spur-of-the-moment thing, or was it driven by some deep sense of impending mortality? I hope it’s not the latter, because existence without her is unthinkable.

  Anna’s journal

  I’m finding these entries hard to write, even though this is only my third. There’s so little to talk about, yet so much! In pre-Shell days I wrote about birthday parties and movies and friends and stuff like that. Now all that is gone. Oddly, I don’t miss any of it so much. I don’t even miss my teachers, my friends, or my relatives too much, except now and then when something triggers a memory and makes me suddenly realize what I’ve lost and for a while I weep like a child. But the feeling doesn’t last and I find myself going back to my work and my life here as if the rest of the world never existed. And the others here seem to feel the same way. The world has narrowed to just the Shell and the five of us inside it. Yet in so many ways even the dullest moment of my life here is much more remarkable than the most exciting one in the old days. Just to think of our survival, moment to moment, against such incredible odds is mindboggling.

  The Eco dome continues to be a constant delight. My initial nervousness about being given the sole responsibility for it is gone, and I feel confident about what I do there. I’m particularly proud of the way I handled the manure issue, introducing it very cautiously and looking out for positive or adverse reactions. That’s how I found that all the plants except the tropical fruit trees thrive on it. For the latter, I will keep using chemical fertilizer. It won’t last very long, but I’ll try to stretch it out as much as I can. It’s such a delight to bring a basket of fresh produce to the table each day and watch everyone’s faces light up!

  I’ll never make it as an engineer, but I can’t believe how comfortable I am around machines now thanks to my stints at the Geo dome. I think I’m actually of some use to Larry there. Poor guy—he worries so much about us. Too much. Sure, the well could run cold one day, as he fears, but why worry about that now? Besides, that might never happen. It’s so great that he confides his fears in me. His trust means worlds to me.

  Nicole’s journal

  Five years after the Shroud. I’ve never been good with words and have none to describe our situation here. Was there ever a group of humans whose existence was compounded of such extremes? Death and dark and cold and horror outside—love and life and comfort inside. Perhaps Anna, with her gift of the gab, or Jessica, with her odd but spot-on phrases, can describe how it is to exist in a little oasis of life surrounded by a cold, dark, strange landscape, but I can’t do justice to it.

  Talking of the Shroud, what does it all mean? Normally I’m the most practical person imaginable and have little interest in matters outside my immediate sphere. But the Shroud is a reality, not an abstraction. Its very existence demands some kind of explanation. I keep coming back to the same questions about the meaning of everything—if the entire human race could be snuffed out so easily, what’s the point of existence? It’s ironic that in the old days I never believed in a creator, and if anyone had asked I would have said that life was simply a biochemical accident. But now that almost everything’s been destroyed, I’m no longer satisfied with that explanation. Paradoxically, the destruction makes me more inclined to accept the idea of creation.

  I talked to both Larry and Mum about this issue, and their responses were typical. Mu
m says that the Shroud has overturned her Buddhist worldview, in which lower life forms, including humans, keep evolving until they attain the supreme state of perfection and merge with the Infinite. She says Buddhist theory can’t explain the Shroud, but she continues to believe in the immortal soul that persists beyond the death of the physical body. So the fact that the human race was virtually wiped out doesn’t mean the end of existence, just the end of our bodies. Perhaps the souls will continue to evolve in some other way without physical existence. Her ideas are interesting but, in the end, resolve nothing.

  Larry agrees that the Shroud raises fundamental questions about our place in the universe, but he prefers to focus on immediate concerns. He’s always been even more practical and down-to-earth than me and has never had much interest in philosophy or spirituality and stuff like that. Oddly, though, he has tremendous admiration for Elizabeth, despite her spiritual beliefs. Perhaps it’s because of them that he’s drawn to her, sensing she has something to offer that he needs? If so, I don’t think he’s conscious of it, nor is he ready to open up and sit with her for an Om chanting session. It would be so good for him if he did, though. Perhaps he would worry less about our safety and be more willing to accept whatever happens.

  Not that I’m pondering these issues all the time. I try to keep myself busy. It’s not the same “busy” of my hospital days, when I worked round the clock to save lives, but it feels just as important, if not more so. Mum’s still a big worry. She’s growing stronger and stronger, yet she’s still vulnerable to spells of breathlessness and feels dizzy after any sudden exertion.

  I realize that until the Shroud I was never really a member of my family—just a provider and occasional caretaker. But now I’m much more—a daughter to my mother and a mother to my daughters. It’s a pity that the Shroud had to wipe out the planet before I realized how much my family meant to me.

  My relationship with Larry too has evolved. He’s turned from a lover into a dear friend. We started off as romantic partners, but as time went by our passion for each other began to subside, and about a year or two ago it went out altogether, leaving in its wake something perhaps even more valuable—deep affection. I think we care for each other more than ever, but in a different way from our romantic passion of old. We’re like brother and sister. It’s no loss to me. I’ve always wanted a brother, and could there be a better one than Larry?