Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  Vrin continues to talk about the after-effects of the EMP, but my ears are ringing too loudly for me to hear any of it.

  What have I done?

  In an instant, I’m drawn back to reality by Vrin’s breath against my face.

  “You can do this,” she whispers. “These women need you. They need a leader, and right now, you’re the best we have.”

  * * * * * *

  “Eve Malum?” I hear again.

  I swing my body around to find the two women standing side by side, fidgeting with their fingers. They appear intimidated—starstruck. They avert their eyes toward the ground as I stare at them until finally, the first women I caught staring at me clears her throat.

  “Is it really you?”

  I’ve never seen this woman in my life. How am I supposed to respond to her? I elevate my chin, cautious. Is this some sort of trap? Some sort of mind game? Vrin told me that several women knew of me. How does this woman recognize me?

  When I don’t respond, she continues. “I-I was there that day. W-when you… When you came out of the White House.”

  I clench my fists. What does she know?

  “I couldn’t leave my husband and son behind, but I… I wanted to come with you. You saved us. You saved us all.”

  Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes soft and frightened, and I unclench my fists. Was she one of the women who stayed behind with Vrin in Washington DC? It only makes sense.

  Then, without warning, she drops to one knee and bows her head. I’m too taken aback to know what to do with myself. Her friend, too, replicates her movement. Why are these women bowing before me? For a moment, I feel like my eighteen-year-old self—unworthy of being treated like royalty. I haven’t earned it. But then, I remember who I am, who I’ve become, and I relish in it.

  I deserve this.

  I’m Eve—Eve Malum of Eden.

  These women should worship you, Eve. It’s what you’ve always wanted. It’s what you’ve worked so hard for.

  Unexpectedly, all the fear and uncertainty that’s been crippling me washes away. Several other women in the Hub notice what’s happening and begin whispering among each other.

  “Is that her?”

  “I think so. It looks like her.”

  “Oh my God, is that Eve Malum?”

  “How do you know what she looks like?”

  “I thought she was a myth.”

  “Shut up!”

  A dozen more women gather, observing me like visitors crossing through an exotic zoo. It’s as if they believe that if they stare long enough, I’ll satisfy their curiosity by making an exaggerated movement or by saying something of immeasurable value.

  Is that what they’re waiting for? For me to speak to them?

  I place my hand alongside my face, and at once, the room fills with a heavy silence. Eyes remain fixated on me, and pink lips part in awe.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling, and everyone breaks into discussion again. Raising my voice louder this time, I add, “Yes, it’s me—Eve Malum.”

  It looks as though they’re on the verge of talking again, but my stare keeps them quiet. They want more—they need more.

  “I realize it may come as a shock for some of you to see me here after all these years. I’m certain you’ve all heard the rumors… some good, some bad.”

  It’s important that I approach this carefully; many women expressed hatred when we left Washington DC because I was unwilling to allow males to follow.

  “I truly hope that most of you found safety with your families.”

  In my peripheral, the Hub is filling with my women who are exiting the West Wing with their Luminus Spheres. Along with them comes Vrin, and then, Lucy.

  Everyone’s watching you, Eve.

  Don’t fuck this up.

  This is it. This is the first impression I have to make here in Elysium, and it’s the only chance I have to redeem myself with my women even though most of them resent me for the way I handled the quarantine in Eden. The women who are sick have already been taken by Vrin and transferred to another wing—a wing she says is dedicated solely for medical care and scientific advancements. Without her, and without Elysium, those women would have died. I must remind everyone that the only reason we’re here in Elysium is because of me—I’m the one who ordered Freyda and Gabriel to seek this place out.

  “I want to start by apologizing to all of you,” I say, and some of the scowls in the room soften. I can’t recall the last time I apologized to anyone, so I’m certain my apology is coming as somewhat of a surprise to most. And although I don’t want to apologize—although I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong—it’s important these women view me in a certain way.

  “First, to my women,” I say. “I’m so sorry for what happened in Eden—” I turn away, feigning remorse. “I should have approached the situation differently. You deserve better than what was given to you, and I truly hope that my desire to relocate Eden—my drive to find Elysium and to seek out advanced technology—will remind you that you are…” I make a point to look at as many women as possible, one at a time. “Each and every one of you… are so incredibly important to me. I view you as… as family.” I cover my mouth and turn away. Then, through broken speech and warm tears filling the corners of my eyes, I add, “I would do anything for you, and I can’t express how sorry I am for letting you down.”

  Part of me is frightened by my own approach. I risk making myself out to be weak—vulnerable. But at the same time, I truly believe that this is precisely what these women want to see. No one wants to be led by some cold-hearted bitch. They need to see that I’m human and that not only do I make mistakes, but that I’m entirely willing to own up to my mistakes and to seek out a remedy.

  Clearing my throat, I turn my attention to the women who don’t yet know me.

  “To meet all of you is an honor,” I say. “I wish I could have taken everyone with me, but at the time, given all the hatred spreading across America, allowing both genders to cohabitate would have been too risky. All I wanted was to build a haven for the women… for all of you… who experienced trauma and heartache at the hands of men. I hope you can understand that.”

  Even those who, minutes ago, seemed to loathe me entirely are now nodding their heads. It’s as if they’re upset with me on a personal level, but on a different level, they understand why I did what I did and why I rejected the male gender.

  They were all there—they saw what men in power did to our country.

  The silence grows heavy, and at once, I’m sick to my stomach. Have I ruined it all? Have I destroyed my chance of ever holding a position of power again? I need this. I need to rule over followers. It’s all I know, and right now, it’s the only thing pushing me forward.

  I part my lips to speak, but nothing comes out. I’ve run out of words. I’m prepared to walk away when a voice erupts from the crowd.

  “E-Eve!”

  The woman who spoke pushes her way out of the crowd, elbows nudging from side to side. She’s incredibly short—no taller than five feet—and comes at me like an excited bulldog. Her face, a square shape, rounds off when she smiles from ear to ear. She’s wearing the same blue cotton outfit as the women of Elysium, which means she isn’t one of mine. It covers most of her neck, which is thick like a tree trunk and muscular.

  “I want you to have… I want you to have my room,” she says, and whispers break out again, reminding me of insects on a hot summer night.

  I cock an eyebrow at her. What is she talking about? Why on Earth would I take her room when I have my own?

  “Mary-Anne!” someone says.

  Mary-Anne, the small woman, flicks her wrist and tells her friend to shush. She then looks up at me, her orange-brown eyes narrowing into happy lines. “I won the Monarch Suite in last year’s Synergy Tournament, but I want you to have it.”

  Everyone around her is exchanging big-eyed glances, obviously taken aback by Mary-Anne’s generosity.

  “Monarch Sui
te?” I ask.

  She nods rapidly, the skin of her tight face barely moving. “Think of it as a luxury suite in Elysium. There are only a few of them, and the one I have is the only one that was given to one of us common folks.”

  Her friend slaps her as if to say, Don’t call us common folk.

  “It’s four times the size of any regular room, has three washrooms, a kitchen, a jacuzzi tub, a private bar, a fountain, a huge bay window…” She counts on her fingers and stares upward. “I-I can’t think of it all right now, but it’s fit for royalty.”

  Again, she grins at me, and although I hate physical contact, I suck it up, bend forward, and wrap my arms around her shoulders, squeezing her tight.

  “You are an absolute gem, Mary-Anne.”

  CHAPTER 20 – GABRIEL

  “Give him some space.”

  I clench and unclench my fists, letting my fingers hang at the end of the chair’s armrests.

  Vrin bends forward, penetrating eyes fixated on me so intently it looks like she’s trying to read my mind. If there was a light bulb dangling over her head, and if we were in a dark room, I’d think I was in a torture chamber. It’s so quiet I can hear myself breathing.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Rubbing the back of my head, I look around. The room isn’t much larger than an average master bedroom, and it reminds me of a hospital, like Area 82 always did. It’s so damn clean, and everything is white. Lights flicker every now and then across the walls, which means this place has power up and running no problem.

  Behind Vrin is a twin-size bed. It doesn’t look like much… Doesn’t look comfy at all. But I’ve slept on beds in Area 82, and they’re as comfortable as clouds even though they look like cardboard boxes. Sky blue sheets sit on top of the mattress so tightly you’d think they were glued to it. Beside the bed is a door, and I only know that because I used to live in Area 82. It’s hard to tell it’s a door. It’s a rectangle in the wall that opens when commanded to do so. Kind of like a peekaboo door but way more advanced and without needing manual touch. I’m sure it leads to a bathroom.

  “You’re in Elysium,” Vrin says, matter-of-factly.

  “Area 82,” I correct her.

  She smirks, probably amused that I already know this place.

  “Same thing,” she says.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  She glances sideways at a slender woman standing next to her. I don’t recognize her, though it isn’t hard to tell she’s a therapist of some kind. A tight-knit bun sits right at the top of her head like it’s been sprayed with polyurethane and left to dry for months. Her glasses, big square things with metal-blue rims, mask half her face. I never understood the big glasses fad, but apparently, it’s in. Well, was.

  On her face, though, they must serve a purpose. I have no doubt those ugly things contain more than corrective lenses. She looks at me through them, analyzing every movement I make. First, she stares at my feet and all I want to do is slip them under my chair to avoid any kind of judgment. Then, her eyes roll up to my knees, my waist, my shoulders, and then my face.

  Is she analyzing me, or is she analyzing me? Technically, I mean. Are those things scanning me?

  “State your name,” the woman says.

  Clearing my throat, I look at Vrin. She gives me a brief nod, which I’m sure is translation for Go ahead.

  “G-Gabriel. Gabriel Rodriguez.”

  I wait for her to say more, but all she does is stare straight ahead without looking at me. I take in her blue skirt, her button-up shirt, and the white pearl necklace that sits around her neck, wondering if she wears the same thing every day. If I were to guess, I’d say she has seven of the same outfits and seven of the same necklaces.

  “Repeat after me,” she says. “Open door. Close door. Turn off the lights. Turn on the lights.”

  Now I get what’s going on. She’s setting up my profile here, which means mine’s been erased. I do as told, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible so I can lie in what I assume is now my new bed.

  “You suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder,” she says.

  I cock an eyebrow at Vrin. I don’t think the woman’s crazy, but something’s off. Why’s she talking like a robot? Oh God… Is she a robot? Is that how advanced things have gotten around here? She looks pretty damn real to me.

  “You’ll have to excuse Valeria,” Vrin says. “She’s very… goal-oriented and doesn’t like to beat around the bush.”

  Without even looking at Vrin, Valeria taps her glasses and with her left hand, makes a swiping motion in front of her like she’s sorting through folders. She taps the air, then touches her glasses.

  I’m getting impatient sitting here. I don’t even know how I got here. Where’s Freyda? Eve? Everyone else? Where’s Justice? My heart starts beating a bit faster than normal.

  “Could someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask.

  “I have a two-week therapeutic program designed to resolve your condition,” Valeria says, pinching the air in front of her. “It has a ninety-five percent success rate.”

  It’s like she’s reading it off whatever’s in front of her. Is this woman for real?

  “What the fuck’s going on?” I ultimately snap.

  Without removing her fingers from the corner of her glasses, Valeria stares at me until at last, Vrin steps in.

  “You jumped on top of several women,” Vrin says.

  Shocked, I lean forward to get out of my chair only to realize a cable’s wrapped around my waist.

  I’m tied up. Great.

  “W-what do you mean?” I ask. “Did I hurt them? Fuck. I’d never—”

  “No,” Vrin says. “They’re more shocked than anything, but you could have done some real damage.”

  “I don’t remember—”

  “That’s why Valeria’s here,” Vrin says. “She’s one of America’s most reputable therapists in advanced techno-psychology.”

  I nearly scoff, but I hold it in. Advanced techno-psychology? It sounds like a load of shit.

  Vrin must realize I’m not buying into it. She crosses her arms over her chest and parts her legs, a stance she likes to use, and one that tells me she isn’t messing around.

  “I’m not going to get into details with you, Gabriel. But let me be very clear. I don’t allow loose cannons inside of Elysium. You can either follow Valeria’s program, or you can leave.”

  Although skeptical, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in fixing what’s wrong with me.

  “Ninety-five percent?” I ask.

  Without saying a word, Valeria nods.

  “You’ll remain confined to this living space until Valeria confirms your recovery and clears you for collaborative living,” Vrin says.

  And with that, she turns around and heads for the main door.

  “Wait!” I say and she turns around.

  It doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to have any further discussion.

  “What about Justice? She’s only a puppy. Where is she?”

  Vrin sighs. “She’s fine. Just focus on your program.”

  CHAPTER 21 – LUCY

  It’s still weird to think that some robot lady has all of my information stored in an invisible system. While it might freak me out because of how bad things got in the past (the government trying to control everyone), I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.

  Being able to open a door with my voice? That’s pretty cool. The most I ever did with my voice was make commands on my H-Cap. I didn’t do it often, though. Mom was often on the phone or talking with Eve in the living room when I got home from school. Well, before I stopped going to school because of the war.

  So this little floating ball is apparently what’s going to bring me to my brand new room. I can almost sense Abigail’s wide-eyed stare before I even turn to look at her. She’s so ecstatic her gums make up half her smile.

  “This is so freakin’ cool,” she says, pointing at her own
Luminus. “I… I think mine’s trying to take me this way.” She takes a step in the opposite direction of me and her Luminus glides through the air and toward a set of elevators at the back of the main hall—well, the Hub, as Vrin called it.

  Although I want to take everything in—the fountain, the gleaming white walls, the bizarre green and purple plants that droop as if weights are fastened at their tips—all I can focus on is Eve. She’s standing next to a woman who appears to be half her height and twice her size in muscle mass.

  But what surprises me is the look on Eve’s face. She’s smiling—so much so that her eyes are squinting. What’s she so happy about? Minutes ago, she looked so pissed off that even Abigail pointed it out. Is this another one of her mood swings? Or is this something else? Eve’s little sister, Mila, had a similar mental illness, but she didn’t act like this. She wasn’t so extreme. Then again, Mila was also taking medication.

  God. Why do things have to be so complicated? I should be wary of Eve right now. After what I saw—after catching her basically yelling at herself in a mirror—I should be warning everyone about how unpredictable she is, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

  She’s still my Aunty Eve, as much as I hate to admit it. I don’t trust her and I want to stop her from whatever it is she has planned, but I love her, and I can’t bring myself to turn on her.

  Maybe she’s not evil. Maybe she’s just… unstable. A lot of people are unstable and they don’t hurt anyone, right?

  Eve suddenly lets out a loud laugh and women gravitate toward her like mindless sheep around a shepherd. It’s easy to understand how she draws people in as if powered by a magnet—she does it to me. There’s something intrinsically captivating about Eve and there always has been.

  It’s hard to explain.

  She isn’t loud or obnoxious, but she has a strong personality. Well, at least she does now. It’s like a calm strong, if that makes sense. Way before all of this happened, she wasn’t like this. Then again, she was also much younger. But over the last few years, a fearlessness has come out. She isn’t afraid of anyone, and she walks around like a goddess, although she’s likely waging a war within herself.