“What!” I stare at her with wide eyes, my mouth agape, as she tells me what happened that morning as I slept.
Early that morning, as Mom was getting her first instruction on the responsibilities and privileges of being an elder, a signal came in. She explained to me that there are monitors all around Eden that scan for human activity, so that when EcoPan releases someone the elders of Harmonia can go to meet them. Normally, they would receive a communication from EcoPan beforehand. That someone would appear without warning was unusual, and troubling.
“Usually only the elders can go on the hypertubes,” Mom said, “but they made an exception for me when you arrived, since it was the first time any two people from the same family were chosen. They didn’t know why, they just got word to include me that day. We only found out once I saw who EcoPan had sent out.”
Mom was chosen to go with Elder Night and a few others to investigate. It was a good way to begin her training, see how she handled herself in a real crisis.
“When we got there, we found a man, half-dead of thirst and heatstroke. He was just beyond the desert, staggering, gasping out incoherent things about war, and hope. When he saw us he passed out almost immediately.”
My heart feels raw. I know it can’t be anyone I know. There are a million people in Eden. And yet . . .
“We weren’t sure what to do. We had no instructions from EcoPan. The elders wanted to follow protocol, but didn’t want to act hastily. So we took him back and waited for word from EcoPan. We thought maybe it had forgotten to tell us. I mean, it has a lot on its mind! Er, on its chips? Processors?”
“Did EcoPan contact you?” I ask, breathless.
“No. We think he’s an escapee.” She shakes her head. “The elders are debating about what to do.”
“What do you mean, what to do? What is there to do? You give him food, water, medical care, shelter. You welcome him!”
“It’s not that simple,” she says sadly. “He hasn’t been chosen. He is a corrupt member of Eden. He doesn’t belong here.”
I look at her, aghast. “You sound like Zander.”
“I don’t hate people from Eden like he does! But I don’t trust them, either. You know what they’re like as well as I do. Most of them, anyway. They can’t be trusted here in the natural world.”
“This isn’t you talking, Mom.”
“I’m an elder now. My first responsibility is to keep Harmonia safe. I argued in his favor, Rowan. I spoke for him. But it wasn’t any use. I don’t agree with the elders’ decision, but I understand why they made it.”
“What decision? You can’t send him back!”
“No,” she says gently. “They aren’t going to do that.”
I sigh with relief. “Well, that’s good. So, what? He has to live in isolation? Under guard?” That’s understandable. It will take time for him to learn about our ways.”
“No, sweetheart. They decided . . .” She swallows hard. “They decided it’s too dangerous to let him live.”
“THIS IS SUPPOSED to be a paradise?” I ask as I pace back and forth in our common room. “A place where we all live in peace and harmony? And the elders—supposedly the most wise, calm people here—have decided to kill a refugee?”
“Rowan, it’s not that simple,” Mom soothes.
“It is exactly that simple!” I rant. “This man has escaped from a terrible place, a prison he was sentenced to before he was born. You know as well as I do what it is like.”
“Calm down for a minute,” she says. Which she should know is exactly the thing that will not calm someone down. Especially me. “This is why I wanted you to stay home. I know this is upsetting, to you in particular. And it is to me, too. But this is a matter for the elders to decide. We have laws here.”
“Laws that apparently make murder legal,” I snap. “Mom, I don’t understand why you’re not up in arms against this . . . this crime against humanity. This poor man managed to escape, looking for a sanctuary. We need to help him, not kill him. Why, it could be a second child. It could be Ash.”
“It’s not,” Mom says.
“Who is it? What’s his name?”
She shakes her head. “He hasn’t regained consciousness since we put him in the hypertube. He’s not old, twenties I’d say, but he could be younger or older. He has a beard, and he’s pretty dirty and blistered from the desert so it’s hard to tell. We will talk to him before the final decision is made, but right now the elders seem set on it.”
“It’s so wrong.”
“I agree. But they are weighing one man’s life against the future of humanity, and the Earth itself.”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
She takes my hands and pulls me onto a long cushion on the ground that serves as our sofa. “You’re right—one man doesn’t matter. He could live with us, and everything would probably be okay. But what about the next man? And the one after that?”
“He is the only one to ever succeed.”
“Not true. You did it once,” Mom points out. “Maybe things are changing in Eden. New technology could let people cross the desert. A hacker could shut it down. A new government, or rebel group, could put so much pressure on the society in Eden that escape is the only option. This man is like . . . a bacteria. Most of the time people don’t get sick from just one bacteria. But if there are more bacteria, and they start to spread, before you know it you have a disease. This man is the first symptom of a disease that could wipe out Harmonia.”
“Then keep him prisoner,” I say desperately. “Take a month, a year, and see if anyone else comes.”
Mom shakes her head. “This place succeeds because only certain kinds of people are allowed to live here.”
“Give this man a chance to prove that he is like us! If he escaped he is resourceful, he hates Eden. He longs for the real natural world. I’m sure of it.”
“You’re still very young, Rowan. An idealist. What if he is a murderer, fleeing persecution? What if he was sent by the Center to infiltrate us?”
I admit that it is entirely possible. “But three hundred people can keep one person under control, watched and guarded, no matter what his story is,” I insist.
“But he was not chosen. He is not pure. What if he speaks his poison to the young people of Harmonia? Why walk when you could drive? he might say. Why not use plastic—what harm could just a little do, and it is so convenient? Then, before you know it, it would be why eat nuts when you could slaughter an animal for its flesh? I know people inside Eden claim to respect the Earth, but that is because they have no choice. Turned loose, there is no knowing what any of them would do.”
Part of me can see what she is saying. But in my heart I know it is wrong. Everyone needs to be given a chance. No one is inherently criminal because of where they were born.
I want to yell at her, to argue. I want to storm to the Hall of Elders and demand to see this man from Eden, fight them with words or fists until he is released. But I know I have to be clever about this.
So I nod, still frowning, and say, “I get it, Mom. What we have here is too precious to risk. But what if he is worthy? What if in escaping he passed EcoPan’s tests? Couldn’t EcoPan have stopped him from escaping if it wanted to? Who are we to judge him?”
This gives her pause, and I press on. “I knew a lot of the rebels of Eden after you left. People who love the Earth, and humanity, and were fighting for a better world. The second children know about community. They were exactly like the people of Harmonia.” With their leaders sometimes wearing blinders, their humanity taking second place to the good of their tribe, I think but don’t add. “If it is one of the second children, or someone who has been helping them, maybe the elders will give them a chance.”
“Well, anyone could say they were a rebel, just to get on our good side.”
“I know all of the second children,” I remind her. “As well as a lot of the people who helped them. If I can take a look at this man, if I know he�
�s one of the good and trustworthy ones, it will give you ammunition to help save his life. You do want to save him, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she says. “As long as there is no threat to Harmonia.”
“Then let me see him. Just a quick look. If I know him, I’ll vouch for him. If not, then I’ll have to accept whatever the elders decide.” I force a resigned look on my face.
Mom buys it. “They might not agree, but I’ll try.”
Together we go to the Hall of Elders, and at the heart of its warm wooden interior I present my case for seeing the escapee. It is all I can do not to rant, to beg, to try to assert my will over theirs. But I make myself speak calmly, rationally, as if I don’t have a real stake in the matter. Inside, I feel like I’m falling apart.
The elders listen as I speak, with my mom standing beside me.
“You are full of compassion, child,” Elder Night says. “That is an admirable quality, a most humane quality. But it must be tempered with hard, cold practicality. I know you don’t remember, but during the third test you showed that you will let compassion override your duty to the Earth, and your guilt as a human. Guilt you, and I, and everyone here must constantly work to expiate, even unto the cost of our lives.”
She comes nearer and takes me by the shoulders. “What good will it do you to see him when his fate is sealed?” Her voice is so gentle, yet her words are deadly. “Nothing either you or he can say will alter the unpleasant necessity. The kindest thing would be to . . .” I can tell she’s weighing the next word carefully, “euthanize him while he is still unconscious.”
She could have said murder. That’s what it is, really. Or assassinate. After all, he is being killed for political reasons. Euthanize, though, sounds clinical and humane. Once Mira, in tears, ran back from the fields with a little grass snake in her hands. She had accidentally wounded it with her spade while she was weeding. The elders said it couldn’t be saved, and killed it as mercifully as possible. This Eden escapee is like that to them—unsalvageable, so he has to be put down.
“I understand,” I say, bowing my head. “It is for the good of Harmonia. No matter how hard it is, I know you will always do what is right. I hope I always do likewise.”
Elder Night nods in approval, but before she can turn to go I add, “Still, I think you should wait until he awakes. If he is the first of a wave of escapees, you should know. If there is even the slightest chance that more people might follow him, you should be prepared.”
The elders mutter in alarm. “Its not very likely—” Elder Night begins, but I interrupt.
“It would be more humane to kill him right away. But it would be more practical to question him first. For the safety of Harmonia. And I think it might be helpful if I could at least see him, just a glance to know if he is a second child. Knowing that will help you decide if whatever he tells you is the truth.”
Elder Night ponders a moment. “Very well. Just for a moment.”
As calmly as if I’m conducting a mere business transaction, I follow her deeper into the Hall of Elders. This is the first time I’ve ever been inside this building. The burnished wood has a gentle glow, and feels more like home than the tree house bubble. I’m used to walls, and this is the only structure in Harmonia that isn’t all or in part see-through. The only place where secrets can be properly kept. I wonder if they’re letting the rest of the village know what has happened, what they plan to do.
Two elders, robust women in their forties, stand guard outside an unmarked wooden door. They greet Elder Night, and look in some surprise at me, but one of them pushes open the door and lets us inside. An elder in his sixties stands by a bedside, a heavy, knobby staff in his hand.
In the bed is an unconscious young man, his face red and blistered beneath the dirt. And blood.
“No,” I say. “I don’t know him.”
I walk out again, as Elder Night thanks and praises me. Mom puts an arm around my shoulder. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart,” she says. “At least you didn’t know him.”
“What if it had been Ash?” I ask her softly.
She catches her breath in a quiet sob, quickly suppressed. “I can’t even think about that.”
She walks me home, then tells me she has to get back to the other elders.
“When will it happen?” I ask.
“Not until tomorrow morning, I’m sure,” she tells me. “He’s in bad shape. It will be a while before he revives enough to answer questions. If he ever does. If not, well, I guess that would be for the best.”
I nod, calm and accepting, and walk up the stairs. When I turn around, Mom is still watching me. I school my face until it is perfectly appropriate—melancholy over harsh necessity, serene knowledge of acting for the greater good—and raise my hand in farewell before I walk steadily up the rest of the way.
Even when the door closes I stay calm. Anyone could be watching. I look as normal as can be . . . until I reach the bathroom, the place most closed off from the rest of Harmonia.
Then I fall to my knees, pulling at my hair, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably.
It was Lachlan.
Lachlan, injured and helpless and alone. One glance was enough to tell me how much he has suffered, not just in his desert crossing but the whole time since the Underground was destroyed. There’s a new scar above his eyebrow, and his knuckles are split and scabbed. He’s lost weight, too, and though his body is still well-muscled, there is a wasted look to his face. No wonder Mom couldn’t tell how old he is. Hardship has aged him in my absence.
Oh, great Earth! How did I have the strength to stay calm when I saw him? How could I not fly to his side, kiss his sweet, suffering face, cut his bonds . . . tear a them with my teeth if I had to? Why didn’t I fight the elders, or all of Harmonia, to save him?
Because like Elder Night said, I can’t let my compassion get in the way of hard, cold practicality.
I’m already a little suspect because I come from Eden. If I show excess concern for the escapee, or even the slightest resistance to their plans, I know that they’ll guard me as long as he is alive. Once they realize I know him, they’ll assume I’ll try to save him.
And if any of them have heard my stories, ones I’ve only really told to Mira and Carnelian but which might have spread, as stories do . . . if they know I love him . . .
The only way to help Lachlan is to entirely deflect their suspicion. So I made myself be cold and heartless. I pretended to agree with them.
Now, with a last shuddering sob, I straighten up and clench my jaw in firm resolution. I only have until tomorrow morning to save the man I love from certain death.
Then, if I do, maybe he can help me save the woman I love, too.
I have no idea how I’m going to rescue him, but I know I have to look as normal as possible to the rest of Harmonia until I make my move.
Unfortunately, I look anything but normal when I open the bathroom door and find Mira standing just outside with her hand poised to knock.
“Sorry, I let myself in to talk about . . . Are you okay? No, stupid question. Obviously you’re not. Is it because you were ranked second tier? Well, at least I’m in the second-tier club along with you. It will be okay. I know you’d hoped to . . .” She stares at me more intensely. “No,” she says. “I know you. I know what you’ve been through. You’re not going to break down like this over what is essentially a bad grade. Come on, Rowan, you can tell me.”
I have misgivings. If the wise elders see nothing wrong with murder for the greater good, if even my mom is ready to accept it, however reluctantly, how can I expect Mira to understand. But she has already agreed to help me get back to Eden to save my friends, and this is part and parcel of that quest.
I tell her, and watch her face shift from amazement to angry disbelief. “No one out there even knows someone escaped from Eden,” she says indignantly. “I heard there was someone being carried on a stretcher, but they said it was Elder Jacques, who twisted his ankle. Can you beli
eve the elders were going to keep this from us?”
She’s even more surprised when I tell her who it is. She jumps up and down, hugging me. “It’s like a legend, a fairy tale!” she says excitedly. “True love, coincidence, adventure . . .”
“And danger,” I add. “They’re going to kill him tomorrow morning.”
She stares at me in dumbfounded disbelief. “No,” she says slowly. “You must have made a mistake. All life is precious. Animal and human. The elders would never kill someone. Not even someone from Eden. It doesn’t make sense.” I tell her the reasons the elders gave, but she’s still shaking her head. “No. That’s the kind of logic that sounds right if you don’t pay close attention, but it isn’t. Not really. There are so many other alternatives! Listen, we have to tell everyone else. The rest of Harmonia won’t stand for this. We’re not murderers. The elders think they’re protecting the people, but if the people know, they’ll put a stop to it. I’m sure of it!”
I think of the people I’ve come to know in Harmonia. Placid, timid Lotte at one end of the spectrum, and Zander with all his vitriol at the other. In the middle, the others are pleasant, kind, earnest people. But are they leaders, or followers? Will they think for themselves if it is easier to let the elders do their thinking for them?
And even if they do think it is wrong to kill a stranger who stumbles into their midst, how many of them are willing to act? There is a world of difference between having a private opinion and taking a public stand. They are part of a community, and while there is strength in numbers, there is also weakness. A break in the unity reduces the strength, so everyone is conditioned to go along, not to make waves.
That probably works most of the time out here. There’s so rarely any source of conflict. I don’t agree with Mira. We might get a little help, but the majority will side with the elders. It is a sad case, they’ll tell themselves, but it is for the greater good. Then when it is over, the community will still be whole.
I tell Mira my thoughts, and she comes to agree with me.
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