Farewell from Paradise

by Saltzman, Brent

  The final montage was the same as the first. Happy children. Couples. Farmers. “Paradiso. Creating perfection from an imperfect world.” Then the screen went black.

  Sam sat, stunned.

  “So where are you from Samuel Pierce? And what kind of weird name is that, anyway?” NB4590 asked as gently as she could.

  “Washington,” he answered in a daze.

  “Never heard of it.”

  He said nothing. Kept his eyes forward. In a stupor.

  NB4590 got up and shut the sliding door. The dazzling lights were swallowed by the haze of the foggy glass. She sat back down. “How did you end up here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Muffled thunder growled. A sudden torrent of rain started pummeling the window.

  “You don’t remember how you got here?” She tried looking him in the eyes. But they were drifting. Overpowered by shock.

  “I remember…who I am…what I was doing.” He looked at her. “But I don’t know how I got here.” Deep into her eyes. They were blue. Solid blue. “Your eyes…” He noticed a faint black ring around the outside of her iris. “You’re wearing contacts.”

  She paused and smiled sheepishly. “Got me.” She pulled them out. Underneath were the same gorgeous cobalt spheres, but only now with a vibrant ring of orange around each pupil. “The machines ain’t fans of imperfection. They started to change ‘bout ten years ago. Caught it before anyone else did.”

  He couldn’t stop staring. He touched her face. For a moment, she let him. His fingertips intimately grazed her cheek. She liked how it felt.

  She finally pulled away, blushing. “Alright, now this is gettin’ weird.” She walked over and pressed her hand to the wall next to the TV. There was a light ding, then the wall opened up, revealing a little recess. A closet. She dug through clothes. Shirts. Jumpsuits. Coats. “I had a friend…a while back…who used to come by now and then. We don’t talk no more but he left some of his stuff. Should fit ya.” She turned and threw him a beige T-shirt.

  He examined it. It had a little blue of ring light in in the middle. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a mark.” She put her hands on her hips. “Blues can only go out with other blues. Four classes. Each gets six hours free roamin’ time a day. Eight hours of work in our buildings. I got kitchen duty tonight. Sometimes it’s clothes washin’ or scrubbin’ floors.” She threw him a black jacket. The ring of light was sewn into the breast pocket. “Now I’m gonna leave ya here for a bit while I go wash up and get ready for my shift. If you try to leave before blue’s allowed then who knows what the Sentries’ll do when they find ya. You can hang around the building, but don’t be goin’ outside.” The closet door slid shut. The seam in the wall was invisible. “You gonna be alright?”

  “Yes.” He put on the shirt. A little big, but it worked. He couldn’t even feel the light ring.

  “Okay then.” She grabbed a robe and a towel and started toward the door.

  “Hey, wait.”

  She turned.

  “Why did you take me in? Off the street. I have the feeling you could get in a lot of trouble.”

  She smirked and looked at him like he’d asked a stupid question. “We’re human beings. I seen enough stories of them killin’ each other all those years ago, before Paradiso. All them wars. I don’t wanna be like that.” She thought. “You know, if we don’t stick together, we end up fallin’ apart.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded.

  “One more thing. Do you mind if I just call you Del?”

  She paused. Gazed at him, mystified. “Yes. I think I’d like that. Sounds more human.”

  Then she left. Sam waited a few minutes, then opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto a little balcony. The rain was warm, almost relaxing. The purple neon lights radiated down the blocks, the wheel-and-spoke pattern of the city’s streets engulfed by mist. Squinting below, he could see people scurrying through the roads. They were all wearing rings of purple on their clothes. All organized. All disciplined. All slaves to some unseen order.

  He grabbed the railing. Gripped it tight. Waiting to wake up from a dream.

  10

  The Blue Building

  The doors swung open. A caravan of doctors and nurses wheeled the stretcher through the crowded hall. They moved it into a room and rolled the young man onto a bed. An orderly slipped IV lines into his veins. A nurse attached electrodes to his chest.

  “Samuel Pierce, thirty-two, hit and run,” one of them said.

  He was unconscious. His shirt was removed. A black and purple bruise was engulfing his side.

  The doctor looked horrified. “Where’s the damn trauma team?!”

  “I don’t—”

  “Find them! And someone get ahold of this guy’s family!”

  As chaos erupted around him, Sam lay still. Asleep. Peaceful.

  Del was back within an hour, wrapped in a robe. Sam was still sitting on the bed, staring out at the city, its purple lights gleaming in the darkness.

  “How can you tell if it’s day or night?” he asked. “It’s so cloudy.”

  “No one ever asks.” She opened her closet and placed her folded towel inside. She tied back her hair. “I’ve only seen the sun ‘bout fifty times in my life. Nothin’ but storms and clouds. Never questioned it.” She shot him a slight look of embarrassment. “Can you turn around for just a sec?”

  “Oh, right, sorry.”

  He turned and stared at the wall while she took off the robe and got dressed. Despite his best efforts to be polite, he couldn’t help but admire her faint silhouette in the reflection of the shiny walls.

  “Don’t know what makes them clouds so much,” she said as she slipped on a jumpsuit. “There’re rumors…legends, I reckon…of places outside Paradiso. Deserts, trees, sunlight, oceans, mountains. You know I ain’t never seen a tree? Seen pictures, and all that.” She touched another part of the wall. An invisible button. A portion slid up, revealing a mirror. She adjusted her suit.

  “Why doesn’t anyone go look? Why don’t you just leave?”

  She laughed. “You really ain’t from anywhere close to here, are ya? You even from this same universe?”

  He turned on the bed and looked at her in the mirror as she slipped on her contact lenses. “No one can leave?”

  “Nope. Once you’re in Paradiso, there ain’t no leavin’ unless you want to face the Overseer. And people who usually do don’t come back.”

  “But people can get in? I got in, somehow. Right…?”

  “Oh sure, people come in.” She pressed another button. The wall slid down over the mirror. “Gotta go through a bunch of checks. It’s risky, though. You get rejected from Paradiso, they may just flat out process ya instead of settin’ you back free.” She zipped up the suit. “You gonna be okay here by yourself? You can roam ‘round the building but there ain’t no goin’ outside unless you want to go see the Overseer. And trust me, no one wants that. And try not to look so dang dubious!”

  “I’ll be fine.” He pointed to the television. “Anything good?”

  “Nothin’ that won’t try to brainwash ya.”

  There was a weak buzzing. An alarm.

  “Well, I gotta go,” Del said. “You sure you gonna be alright eight hours?”

  He nodded.

  “Alright then…” And she left.

  Sam sat on the bed a few minutes. But his curiosity always outweighed his discipline. He zipped up his jacket and approached the door. It didn’t have a handle. Instead there was a square of red light where a handle normally would’ve been. He touched it with his thumb. It flashed green and the door slid open, automatically closing behind him when he stepped out into the hall.

  He found himself in a wide corridor with glossy black flooring and bright white walls. Blue strips of light lined the floor. Everything looked eerily clean. There were people walking. Some of them threw him suspicious glances. He started down the hall and eventually came to an escalator
. Narrow panes of glass hung from the ceiling that served as translucent television screens. The familiar female voice rang from hidden speakers: “The special today in the Paradiso Blue One Seven Cafe is [Condensed Protein Product Nine Zero Four] for [half credits] off.”

  The escalator finally reached a summit and Sam stepped out into an enormous concourse, an atrium of steel and glass that extended hundreds of feet into the sky. The ground level was bustling with people, all of whom had rings of blue light sewn into their clothes. Some sat around tables outside shops and cafes, all with generic names like “COFFEE” and “BOOKS” in bright neon letters. Multiple levels ran around the perimeter of the rotunda, all supported by massive columns of brushed metal.

  “Excuse me, citizen.” A robot hovered by. It looked identical to the Sentry, only it was painted orange and black and carrying a nylon sack. The Cleaning Bot wrapped one of its tendrils around an empty food container on a table and slipped it into its bag. Like its brethren, it was humming some sort of swingy jazz.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught Delaney serving food behind a cafeteria line. He walked over and joined the queue, which was full of citizens who looked content but not happy. He grabbed a flat metal tray when it was his turn.

  Del recited her line. “Welcome to Paradiso Blue One Seven Market, our special today is—”

  But she stopped and her eyes widened when she looked up at Sam standing before her.

  “—what are you doing here?”

  “Thought you’d miss me.”

  She whispered. Crossly. “Samuel Pierce, I could get in a lot of trouble if they knew I was harborin’ you!”

  “So, I’ll blend in.”

  “Fine.” Her eyes darted back and forth to make sure no one overheard. “Blend in by partakin’ in the local cuisine.” She plopped a ladle full of green mush onto his tray. It looked like it had already been digested once or twice.

  He grimaced. “What’s this, exactly?”

  “Condensed Protein Product Nine Zero Four.” She put her hands on her hips. Irritable. “It’s half off today.”

  He moved down the line while Delaney served the green slop to the next customer. He came to another floating robot wearing a little chef’s hat and brandishing a fake mustache. It was almost cute.

  “Your total today will be [eleven credits], citizen.”

  “Uh…” He felt a brief moment of alarm. How was he supposed to pay?

  The robot lifted one of its wispy appendages and scanned Sam’s breast pocket with a laser beam. The ring of blue light lit up. A bell dinged.

  “[Eleven credits] have been successfully deducted from your account, [Mr. MP091290]. Have a dandy day!”

  “Uh, thanks.” He stepped away before he aroused any suspicion. MP091290—must have been NB4590’s former “friend.”

  He walked out into the center of the court and set the tray of goop on a table. There were elevator entrances dotting the outside of the rotunda. He picked one, and a few seconds later was soaring up through a vertical glass tunnel. In front of him, the concourse vanished below while behind him, the twinkling purple lights of Paradiso lingered in the twilight.

  The doors slid open when he reached the top floor. A woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, looked at him with lustful eyes then stepped in while Sam tried to step out.

  Tried.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the box as the doors closed.

  “What the…Can I help you?” he asked, somewhat startled.

  She whispered, passionately. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah…”

  She got close. Uncomfortably close. She pressed the button to the ground floor.

  She looked him up and down, gripping the sides of his jacket. “There are only a few places they don’t have cameras. In the apartments, in the bathrooms, the disposal foyer and…” She slipped her hand under his shirt and caressed his neck. “…the elevators.”

  “Whoa, whoa!” Sam pushed her away. Much to her annoyance. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Options are limited in Paradiso.” She lunged at him. A wild animal. “I like to stake my claim early.”

  “Get off!” He pushed her again. She shook her head and adjusted her hair. She didn’t look like she was used to rejection. “I’m sorry.” Sam calmed. “You’re very pretty and I’m sure you have a wonderful personality.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “But that’s not exactly the first thing on my mind right now!” he said.

  “Fine.” She blew her hair out of her face, perturbed. “What’s on your mind?”

  The elevator came to a stop. The door dinged open.

  “Tell me how to get out of here.”

  They kept low, crouching behind a concrete barrier. Sam and the woman from the elevator carefully peeked over the edge. There was a vast, cavernous space with low lighting. It was devoid of people.

  “I used to sneak out here all the time,” the woman said. “They don’t bother to keep tabs.”

  Several Cleaning Bots emptied their sacks of garbage into wheeled bins. The bins were constantly rolling in and out of two openings. A conveyor belt.

  “Just make sure to climb up out of the pit before you get to the furnace. Get back in the same way you got out.”

  “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.”

  “Remember,” she glared. “You get back, you’re mine.” She licked her lips.

  “Uh, right.”

  He hopped the concrete barrier and trotted over to one of the moving bins. He ducked as he followed, hugging its side. One of the Cleaning Bots heard something suspicious and circled the bin, but Sam did the same, turning it into a dog chasing its tail. It eventually gave up.

  Outside, Sam felt the rain hit his face. It was surprisingly cold out. He could see his breath in the air. At the end of the path, which was enclosed by two walls, the bins were dumping the garbage into a fire then heading back inside. Grunting, he climbed up into one of the bins, stepped over the trash and hopped toward a wall, grabbing its edge.

  Then, he hoisted himself up and over.

  11

  The Slave to Order

  The beepof the heart rate monitor contributed to the music of the hospital. Doors swinging open and shut. Crutches tapping the floors. Breathing machines blowing air into patients. Doctors flirting with nurses.

  Sam lay unconscious on a hospital bed. Manhattan’s lights shone through the window, piercing the darkness. A doctor in a white lab coat spoke on the phone.

  “He’s in a trauma-induced coma. He’s stable now, but the damage is pretty severe. Yes. Yes, ma’am. Two days. We’ll have to perform surgery. When can you be here? Alright, just make sure to check in downstairs. I’m sorry again, Mrs. Pierce. We will do everything we can for him.” He hung up.

  A nurse prepared a syringe of fluid. “You think he’ll be alright?”

  The doctor sighed, his hand to his chin. He examined the broken watch on the patient’s tray, sitting atop his clothes. The hands weren’t moving.

  Sam found himself huddled in the shadows of an alleyway. Purple neon lights lit up the nearby streets. The ring on the pocket of his jacket glowed blue. Digging into the fabric, he managed to rip it out. The disc wasn’t any thicker than a sheet of paper. He tore it in half and its luminosity faded. He tossed it aside and buttoned up his jacket to cover up the ring on his t-shirt. Then, with his head down and hands in his pockets, he stepped out into the crowd.

  There wasn’t much chaos. Everyone moved in lanes. Entering and exiting various buildings striped with purple. It was crowded, like the backstreets of a red light district on a Saturday night. There were generic signs everywhere he looked: “FOOD,” “POOL,” “EXERCISE.” It went on and on. He couldn’t hear much. He tried to catch snippets of conversations, but it was all lost in the incessant droning of the collective chatter.

  Until he heard a sneeze.

  And everything stopped.

  People stopped
walking, stopped talking, and looked on.

  In his direction.

  He froze. A deer in the headlights.

  There was an electrical hum as one of the Sentry Units descended from the fog. And headed right for him.

  He’d been caught.

  It became more frightening as it approached, its red eye glowing fiercely in the night. Sam held his breath. Closed his eyes. Braced for the worst…

  When it then proceeded to slip right past him, the tip of one of its tentacles brushing his shoulder.

  “You are in violation of Paradiso code [HS899].” The Sentry was speaking to a man standing alone in the street. He was holding his nose. Trembling in terror. He sneezed again. Then started tearing up. The Sentry Unit continued, its voice firm. “You will be taken to the infirmary for processing.”

  “No!” the man screamed. “No! Please!”

  The Sentry Unit extended its tendrils like a spider ready to pounce on its prey. The man made a break for it, but he was ambushed by two more bots. He shrieked; his pleading and bawling made Sam’s blood curdle. The three robots wrapped their arms around him, octopi fighting over a meal, before lifting him into the air and whisking him off. The man’s horrified cries for help faded into the distance.

  And everyone just watched. Silent. Without lifting a finger to help.

  Just another day in Paradiso, it seemed.

  Then, like clockwork, everything went back to normal. The unintelligible babbling continued and the streets sprung back to life as if nothing had happened at all.

  Sam felt a chill. He had to get inside. He took refuge in the nearest building. It was labeled “BAR.”