by P. Mattern
I go through the motions, attending class, participating, paying attention, horsing around with my peers during basketball practice, eating lunch and all the rest. But I’m worried for Rollo. Everything seems to have shifted in uncanny way. I feel paranoid.
To my relief, Rollo heads over and joins me for lunch, but doesn’t have much to say. He won’t tell me if anything happened. He won’t even acknowledge all the crazy shit he told me yesterday. All the air seems to have gone out of my world, and it is hard to believe I was ever happy in a world as shitty and stifling as this.
I keep telling myself these bummer thoughts aren’t doing me any good and there’s nothing I can do. There doesn’t seem to be anything Rollo can do, either.
The only thing that keeps me sane is Pagan and looking forward to our next make out session. Pagan has a busy day, but I know she will show up at the door to my quarters for that blessed break between the end of classes and Dinner Hour.
I half resent Rollo for my change in mood. His account of what he experienced on the Medical Training Secure floor, on top of my inability to adjust to the idea of my parents disappearing from our lives, is working on me big time. I don’t want to believe any of it, and I realize I’ve been living in a comfortable dream.
When I hear a knock at the door of my room after classes, relief washes over me. But when I open the door to usher Pagan inside, Rollo’s standing there.
I want to say something snarky like, “Way to ruin a moment!” but as soon as our eyes meet, I realize we have something in common.
We are both in hell.
He looks around the room. Later he will tell me he was looking for cameras, even though they have cameras so small now that they could be surveilling us and we would never know. Finally, he motions me onto the edge of my bed, the same bed I was hoping to share with Pagan, and pulls the curtain partition around us.
In the cramped quarters I can smell his sweat, and he hands me a paper.
I click on the little nightlight the pod comes equipped with, in case someone wants to read before bed.
It seems to be a printout of an architectural blueprint of Naris, or at least the part of Naris we inhabit. As my eyes travel over it, I see that it is only a partial-even on the main level. Citizens Cove, the vast hallways go miles underground in every direction. Most of us stick to the cramped containers euphemistically called ‘Neighborhoods.’ Only our floor is included and along every edge, even though the corridors continue that part is darkened and white letters declare that it is a ‘SECURED ZONE.”
Now that he has my attention, Rollo points to the area to the west of where most of the Young Adult housing is. There is a huge aquifer fed Natatorium there. Pagan has swim lessons on Wednesdays there. The underground springs feed the aquifer. The aquifer is a big deal because it provides geothermal energy that is used in two ways: in the Summer, cold groundwater flows through cooling pipes, before traveling to the generators, and in the Winter, water travels to the generators first, and the same pipes release the waste heat throughout the complex.
Since we live under a layer of permafrost, the majority of the groundwater is extracted and used for heating.
“This!” he tells me, hissing in a voice just above a whisper, “This is how we get out!”
I am about to ask him how that can happen without any diving equipment. As my mind is racing, I think about other things: how are we supposed to bring dry clothing and gear with us? How can we know where the exit point is?
The entire plan seems ludicrous to me, and I am about to tell him he’s nuts when I hear a tap on the door. I know it’s Pagan.
Rollo rolls the paper back up in a tight little roll, giving me a smug look. It’s the first time I have seen him smile in two days.
He pulls the curtain open, stands up and stretches as I quickly move past him and let Pagan in. Of course, she sees Rollo right behind me… how could she miss him? He’s a monster.
She looks him up and down, noticing how sweaty he looks and starts laughing.
“Do you two have anything to tell me?” she asks, giggling. I get her drift and I don’t think it’s very funny, but as Rollo exits, he tries to kiss me, just to carry Pagan’s joke one step further.
I dodge his attempt, saying, “Get off me!” and as he exits, I can hear him cackling all the way down the hall.
Even though I am slightly pissed off, I am relieved to hear him laughing again.
Bree is scheduled to be in a dance recital with her ballet troupe, to be held in the Amazium, which is the Arts and entertainment venue for student performances. It’s basically a place to show off talent and remind us how special we are—when they allow us to be—and I arrange to meet Mom and Dad there about 15 minutes before it starts, so we can watch her perform. Pagan is also in the troupe, so I’m really looking forward to it.
They never show up. As the crowd loitering in front of the theatre became thinner, I was thinking I’d better hurry inside. I figure they’re running late.
Pagan is the lead dancer, and she floats out wearing a tulle skirt and taking these delicate, mincing little steps, her arms in front of her and then over her head as she twirls across the stage. Even though I’ve never been a fan of Classic Ballet I am instantly entranced. I don’t know how she moves like that, and I feel like I could spend a lifetime learning all the sides of her I’ve never seen.
Bree enters from stage left with a bevy of other dancers. The name of the ballet is ‘The Rite of Spring’ and it is the story of a young girl who dances herself to death as a sacrifice to the God of Spring. The stage decorations are impressive, and the play itself has me thinking about what it must have been like to experience real seasons, the ones humans used to experience on the earth’s surface.
From everything I’ve read, most of the earth except for the Antarctic and the perpetually warm tropical countries close to the equator used to experience changing seasons, as opposed to permanent winter. In that world, Winter gave way to Spring, with warming temperatures, budding flowers and blooming trees, Spring gave way to Summer with heat and crops growing and plentiful sunshine, and finally the earth cooled again with Fall, the trees turned colors of crimson and flame, and crops were harvested and stored away and then the first snowflakes fell and it was again Winter.
I had always been told my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins had been wiped out in the Great Upheaval When I lost myself in the drama of a ballet, filled with the memories of the seasons, I felt a bit closer to them.
I’m sitting there, I’m getting more and more nervous about my parents. I can’t imagine what could have held them up. The Medical Corps has eradicated any type of flu or bacterium that can cause human beings to feel under the weather, so no one ever gets sick. I reassure myself with the thought that maybe they came in late and just took seats in the back, and Bree and I will see them when the lights come back on.
I settle down and actually enjoy myself for the rest of the program, clapping enthusiastically at the end. ‘The Rite of Spring’ was avant-garde for its time, and some of the dancing moves are more in the realm of interpretive or modern dance. I enjoy watching Pagan in the final act, all the drama of a devotee of the God of Spring sacrificing herself so that Spring can give way to Summer.
But when the lights come back up, I still don’t see my folks anywhere. Something seems very wrong, and I rehearse what I will tell Bree so that she doesn’t get upset.
When I meet both girls outside their dressing room, Bree already knows something is up.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” she asks me, with a slight furrow in the brow, “I kept peeking out when I wasn’t on stage but I didn’t see them anywhere!”
Pagan automatically places her arm around Bree’s shoulder to comfort her.
“I’m sure they’re alright,” she says without much conviction, giving me a questioning look above Bree’s head. “Something must have come up.”
“But they never miss any of my performances,” she wails, looking arou
nd us as if she expects to see them come running up, “At least they never have. We need to go check on them Billy!”
“Okay Bree,” I say slowly, my eyes searching Pagan’s for answer. She doesn’t know what to do, either. I tell Bree: “Sure. Let’s go now. Maybe if we can catch up, we can all get ice cream sundaes at the Soda Shop.”
Everyone around us seems to be talking and laughing, providing an absurd backdrop to my anxious, obsessive thoughts and my heart pounds in my ears as we step up on the high-speed walkway that goes to my parent’s neighborhood. It’s faster than walking the corridor and as much as I’m dreading it, I’m already practicing how I’ll explain it to Bree.
Our parents are gone.
Sure enough, when we arrive, we knock. I’m hoping that Bree isn’t noticing the nameplate to the side of their entrance door has been removed and replaced by one that reads,
“VACANT”.
We knock and when no one answers, we open the door. A huge feeling of Deja Vu descends over me. Everything is gone, just like I knew it would be. We walk around the vacated dwelling silently, taking in the enormous sense of emptiness the room represents. Bree begins to cry. My mind goes immediately to thoughts I desperately don’t want to entertain, thoughts of Mom and Dad sitting in cages on the upper Medical Research floor with their tongues cut out, waiting for Rollo to inject them with death.
I hope they put my Mom down first. My Dad’s better being alone, and he’d only be alone for a minute, anyway.
Inwardly I curse Rollo, even though I realize that he’s just as trapped as I am.
Bree turns and buries her head in my solar plexus.
“I knew it,” she sobs, “I knew they were already dead! You told me yourself, everyone here is just gonna die!”
I just hold her for a moment and then ask if she’s ready. She nods her head.
There are Alert buttons to press every ten feet in Naris to summon the help of the Security Patrol, and we walk outside, not bothering to close the door, and find the nearest alert button to press. In less than three minutes, uniformed Patrolmen approach us.
I clear my throat. My voice sounds husky, as if I’ve been crying although I haven’t shed a single tear.
“My parents have disappeared. We just saw them over the weekend and their living quarters are vacant. We need to find them.” Even I don’t believe what I’m saying, but I don’t want to seem contrary. I told you I can be smart.
The head of Security (I can tell by the three silver stars over the printed-out ID pin he is wearing) steps into the vacated apartment without answering right away, then steps out again.
“They’ve been relocated. Didn’t they inform you? Most biological parents inform their kids before they move?”
“They didn’t say a thing, and that’s not like them!” I want so much more information, but if I even hint to them that we all saw this coming, then we’re toast.
Damn. I should have taken more acting classes. But the head of Security is already looking at me like I’m full of shit and he knows it.
“Well… I can check into it. Are you still at 21 Violet Way? In the student quarter?”
“Sure am,” I tell him. I am trying to keep it together even though on the inside I am falling apart. All I want to do is hold it together for Bree. My eyes meet Pagan’s eyes and hers are full of sympathy.
“Ok then,” he answers. The guy he is with never makes a sound but nods in unison with the first Security Patrolman, and then they turn and leave us, knowing that they are performing their job optimally by not giving us any information on my missing parents.
All of my life in Naris I’d felt comforted by their presence—now I feel like one of their pets. Every gut instinct I have tells me that my parents are gone. Permanently gone, in some terrible way that means Bree and I are orphans of Naris.
On the long walk back to our living quarters, the three of us walk abreast, with Pagan and I holding hands and my arm around Bree, who isn’t weeping anymore. Instead, her small heart shaped face has gone pinched and white and the silence between us is a terrible, living thing.
I watch her brush her teeth and prepare for bed. I have no words for her, but she hugs me and draws the curtain around her cocoon. I listen for the sound of her breathing to slow, and at last it does. It isn’t until then that I brush my own teeth and draw the partition around Pagan and I.
I am too defeated to cry. We hold each other. It is more of a comfort than I thought it would be. I feel closer to her, but it isn’t just love. She’s the biggest part of my world I have left.
In the morning, Bree is already gone off to class, and I’m kind of glad. I’m hoping she connects with her routine and it distracts her from what happened yesterday. I get up and have actual fun showering with Pagan. She keeps her back to me and refuses to turn around as we shower in mock-modesty. Still, it is exactly what I need to lift me out of my sadness and give me the will to carry on.
Classes are fairly routine. I am looking around my Steampunk in Literature class as they discuss the works by S.J. Davis and I realize that I don’t know that much about my classmates. I have no idea if they still have parents, if they are orphans of Naris or what their personal situations are like.
I know it’s entirely my fault, because I am such a damn loner. Rollo and I have been tight like brothers for as long as I can remember, and I never felt the need to cultivate other male friendships. My recent situation, though, has made me more than a little curious, so I strike up a conversation with one of the kids on the basketball team.
“Dax,” I say, falling into step beside him after following him out of the classroom, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
He turns and gives me a lazy grin.
“If it’s about the left hook that you can’t seem to get rid of, sure!” he jokes, “And my advice is to aim off center on purpose. Billy, you know what the old timers say about it, right?”
“No,” I tell him, “But I bet you’re gonna tell me!”
He chuckles.
“They say that if your shooting has a left hook, so does your dick! Guys that shoot straight don’t have to compensate!”
I sigh silently and pretend to consider that for a moment.
“I never noticed,” I reply slowly. “So is that why you can’t make 3-pointers.”
A couple other members of the team walking behind us starting laughing and I realize they are listening. Dax starts to turn red and then let’s loose with a bellow of laughter.
“You asshole,” he says with just a hint of admiration in his voice.
“By the way,” I continue after the laughter has subsided, “Do you have any family in Naris?”
He gives me a strange look.
“Used to,” he says casually, but I think I detect a note of tension in his voice, “They hit the 40-year mark all at once and the last thing I heard was that they were working for Naris in a special sector. A restricted area. So, I haven’t seen them for a while.”
He seems so adapted. Like this is normal. Is something wrong with me?
“Do you miss them?” I blurted out watching his face for any show of emotion.
“Sure, yeah, sometimes, I guess,” he says looking at me oddly, “But there has to be some reason it’s done this way. I don’t want us to overpopulate like the rest of the world did. It took some drastic measures to save as many of us as they did.
Maybe if the Collesium hadn’t reacted as quickly as they did, we might have been wiped out. All of us. Think about that for a minute!”
I know he thinks he’s making a great point, and it’s one I’ve heard a thousand times before, but sometimes I wish they hadn’t. I mean we’re stuck in a box forever, reading and watching all the amazing things humans got to do, before they turned the world to shit—and the only exciting part is the idea that the box might open up again and we’ll all die if we don’t stay vigilant.
This is the worst time to be alive. We are a generation of reruns.
Part of me
feels like a creep for even bringing it up, but another part of me, a stronger part, has a nagging suspicion that the Collesium would never let us out of the box again, no matter how warm and sunny and perfect it was on the surface.
“Did you get any heads up?” I ask, continuing the conversation way beyond what Dax seems comfortable with, “I mean I just had dinner with my folks and now they’re gone, man. It’s hard to wrap my head around it.
He stops walking and looks at me.
“I guess so. But look. There’s nothing we can do about it. The rules are the rules. And I want to tell you something else my man…especially since we need you on the basketball team…
The last kid that asked a bunch of questions about his parents being transferred got ‘transferred’ himself to God knows where. One day he just came up missing, I think his name was Evan, but there’s no way to find out now! No one has heard from him or seen him since.”
He follows his little story up with a meaningful look.
“Like I said before, we really need to be on our game for Sectionals coming up!”
I nod to him and wave as I turn into my classroom. Inwardly, my thoughts are still churning. I feel like ‘normal’ has left me. It’s still there for others, and I can see it when I talk to them, if only through a window. But I’ll never be back there.
And that means I’m running out of time.
* * *
It doesn’t rattle me that I don’t see Bree back at our dron later. I go to grab a quick shower after basketball practice. I’m aware that she has dance practice and I figure that I’ll catch up with her at the dining hour.
But when I arrive, she isn’t anywhere. Finally, I see one of her friends, Naomi, and go up to her pedestal table where she is swinging her legs and eating French fries with two other girls.