Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  “Turn on the lights,” I say, and nothing happens.

  It’s apparent that this room isn’t controlled by APHRODITE.

  I reach a hand inside and cringe when cobwebs touch my fingers. But then, I feel a cold metal light switch and I turn it on. Bulbs flicker overhead, and within seconds, the entire room lights up.

  Although dusty, it’s in good shape. A dozen hanging lights are evenly spread out across the ceiling, though one of them is burned out. Their cool white light reflects off the round metal table sitting at the center of the room, and around this table are four chairs large enough to sit two people. Papers, books, and pens lie atop the table in a disorderly fashion. Some of these are news clippings from during the war with headlines such as:

  WOMEN ARE OUT OF CONTROL

  MEN, GET READY TO SAVE AMERICA

  THIS STOPS NOW

  It angers me to read the headlines, so I’m careful not to look at the articles. I move closer to the table and search through the hundreds of papers, trying to make sense of this place. Then, images of advanced weaponry jump out at me like ants on a white picnic table.

  They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before—guns, launchers, and even military vehicles that look like something taken from the future. The guns are barely guns at all; they’re small rods with simple handles, and underneath the images are descriptive details regarding their use, power, and purpose.

  My heart begins to pound hard at the thought of men sitting around this table, discussing machinery capable of wiping out thousands of women. What happened? Did they not have enough time to build their precious weapons? Did the war happen too soon for their liking?

  I’m about to start shuffling through the vehicle prototypes when someone calls out my name.

  “Eve?”

  It grows louder and louder, and that’s when I realize someone’s inside my living quarters.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, rushing out of the secret room.

  As I exit through my closet, Nola appears in front of me with her wild hair tied into a bun. She isn’t wearing her tight nurse scrubs anymore—instead, she’s changed into Elysium’s standard blue cotton. I instinctively reach for my hanging clothes and pull them to the center of the closet, hoping to hide the opening.

  “A-are you all right?” Nola asks, craning her neck to see behind me.

  “I’m fine,” I hiss. “How did you get in here?”

  “Your door was open,” she says, still trying to see behind me.

  I move toward her so quickly that she backs out, and the moment we’re both out of the closet, I slam its doors shut.

  “What do you mean, it was open?”

  “That nice lady Mary-Anne told me I could find you here. When I got here, your door was open. I thought maybe you were hurt.”

  I glare at her.

  Is she lying?

  But then, I realize something—I shouted “Open door” when attempting to enter the secret room. Perhaps APHRODITE misinterpreted my command and opened my main door.

  Oh God. How much did Nola see? Did she see inside? Does she know there’s a room hidden inside my closet?

  “Are you all right?” Nola asks.

  I force a smile—the last thing I need is to display fear or anxiety. All that will do is make Nola suspicious and she’ll question why I’m being so paranoid.

  “I’m doing well, Nola. I’m so sorry… I must have forgotten to close it. You know me”—I playfully flick my wrist in the air—“always so much on my mind.” I force a laugh and it comes out sounding more genuine than I expected. “If my head weren’t attached to my shoulders, Nola, I’m sure I’d lose it.”

  She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. “I’m glad you’re okay. They’re serving lunch. Someone told me that the alarm system for the twelfth floor isn’t working right now. Something to do with upgrading APHRODITE. I thought I’d pop in to let you know.”

  “Oh, Nola,” I say, tickling the back of her neck even though all I want to do is strangle her.

  She’s a traitor.

  A fucking traitor who’s making Lucy doubt you.

  “You are so thoughtful,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”

  She smiles at me, uncertain. Does she know what I’m thinking, or did she see the room? I stare back, waiting for her to leave.

  “Okay,” she says at last. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you later, Eve.”

  She leaves my Monarch Suite, and I wait a few minutes. Once I’m certain she’s far enough, I make my way to the eating lounge.

  The moment I get there, a young woman wearing rimless glasses and a necklace resembling something made by a three-year-old child grins and points at the empty seat beside her. There are numerous other chairs across the eating lounge, but they all appear to be taken. It’s obvious this woman jumped up from her seat to give me her spot.

  I smile at her and sit, feeling dozens upon dozens of eyes on me.

  How many days have they been waiting for me to join them? I’ve been spending most of my time in my Monarch Suite, eating foods produced by the Chepire fridge to avoid socialization.

  Now, I feel pressured to say something.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  With her grin now taking up half her face, the woman slouches down to whisper something to her friends. It’s like watching high school girls giggle over a crush.

  Then, one by one, chairs start to screech across the tiled floor. Slowly, women circle me as if surrounding Jesus himself. Not all of them—some remain at a distance, observing like curious gazelles in the wild. There must be at least forty women around me right now. It’s become even more apparent that I’ve drawn a crowd now that half the eating lounge is looking emptier and emptier at the corners. Even children are getting up from their miniature tables and colorful play blocks to join their mothers.

  “I suppose you’re all waiting for me to say something,” I say, forcing a silly laugh.

  The women join in on the laughter, glazed eyes never leaving mine.

  Who needs Devil’s Tea when I have women like this?

  Then, the woman who gave me her seat gets down on one knee and looks up at me.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she says. “We—” she glances at the other women, almost as if waiting for their permission to say whatever it is she’s about to say. Several of them nod at her, while others simply stare. “We have something to ask you.”

  I smile, the genuine reaction causing the muscles of my face to feel foreign to me. How can I not smile? These women are gathered around me as if I were some ancient Greek goddess.

  “Anything,” I say.

  “C-can you talk to Vrin?” she asks.

  This catches me off guard. I was expecting to be asked about Eden and how I saved hundreds of women following the war. Why on Earth are they talking to me about Vrin? What does she have to do with me?

  Another woman steps forward, her freckled arms crossed over her belly. With shoulders slouched and brows so slanted they look out of place on her forehead, she reminds me of an abuse victim.

  “Things have changed around here… gradually.” She, too, looks at the women for either encouragement or guidance. She must have received what she wanted; she continues, her voice trembling. “When we first came here, Vrin separated the men and women. Within the first year, she reintegrated us. It was hard at first—”

  “Hard? It was a nightmare!”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Maybe for those who have husbands or children.”

  “Guys, shut up. You know we can’t talk about this.”

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t a good thing,” says the shy woman. “It was, for the most part. There are a lot of good men here. We’re not saying they’re bad.”

  I fight off the urge to glower at her for her ignorance.

  “The problem now is that Vrin’s using the men for combat. She uses women, too, but it’s mostly men she has as soldiers.”

  I stare at her. I understand
why she feels uneasy about the situation, but I want to allow her to voice it aloud. She parts her lips when another woman cuts in.

  “We all remember how fast men turned on us back in the day. Sure, the good ones didn’t agree with it. But what did they do? Nothing. They didn’t do anything. So who’s to say that one rotten apple won’t spoil the bunch? It’s only a matter of time before some new guy becomes a soldier and decides that men should be in charge of Elysium. They have the guns, the training… It wouldn’t be hard for them. All it takes is one bullet to take Vrin out and force us into submission. We don’t like it, Eve. We don’t like it at all. We’ve dealt with male soldiers in the past… We haven’t come this far to deal with it again.”

  I elevate my chin and smile down at her.

  She needs you, Eve.

  They all need you.

  “Don’t you worry, my magnificent ladies,” I say, and the tension dissipates almost instantly. “I’ll take care of this.”

  CHAPTER 29 – GABRIEL

  “Room 700,” Nayma says, pointing up at the ceiling like that’s supposed to help me.

  She’s preoccupied. All I want to know is where to find Vrin’s office, and she’s trying to brush me off.

  “You okay?” I ask. I barely know the woman, but it’s clear something’s bothering her. She waves a hand dismissively and stares at the wall, though what she’s truly staring at is a projection in her glasses.

  “I’m trying to fix something, Gabriel. Could we please talk later? I don’t want to be rude with you.”

  Whatever she’s fixing, it must be pretty damn important. So I nod, even though she isn’t looking at me. “Of course. Good luck with the repair.”

  She doesn’t say anything. Instead, her frown hardens, and she starts prodding at the air in front of her.

  Poor Nayma. She looks stressed out. It’s probably related to APHRODITE since she’s the one in charge of all that.

  I make my way to the elevators and up to the seventh floor. It’s weird being out in public like this. Every now and then, a woman gives me a nasty look. It doesn’t make me angry. It hurts. I didn’t mean to jump on those women like that. And now, some of them look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.

  I can’t focus on them, though. There are plenty of others who are welcoming me into Elysium’s society and asking how I’m feeling and if I’m doing better.

  Room 700, I repeat to myself, scanning the room numbers down the corridor. Every door looks the same until I actually reach Room 700. A double door stands tall with two big silver handles, something I’m not used to seeing anymore. Everything’s so advanced around here, even more advanced than when it was Area 82, so it’s rare to see a regular door handle.

  I haven’t seen Vrin since she first admitted me into Valeria’s care, but I need to see her now. I have to tell her how thankful I am for everything she’s done. Without her, I’d no doubt be back in Eden’s basement, imprisoned by Eve.

  Raising a fist into the air, I knock on the door.

  “Come in,” comes Vrin’s voice.

  I reach for the handle, twist it, and gently push the door open. At first, she seems surprised to see me. She’s sitting behind a big black desk, leaning over it with both elbows resting on its surface. She stares at me from above reading glasses that hang off her nose. I’ve never seen her with glasses. It makes her look a bit older. She drops the pen she’s holding, sits up, and takes off her glasses.

  “Gabriel,” she says. “This is a surprise.”

  When I don’t say anything, she points at the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

  I do as I’m told and sit down, feeling a bit awkward. The last time I was in an office with Vrin, it was in the Oval Office. The memory makes this office look like a broom closet. It’s nice, sleek, and extremely modern, but it doesn’t compare to the Oval Office.

  I think back, remembering how she was yelling at Eve to leave while Eve held onto the woman she’d killed. She had no idea I was there, and she still doesn’t know.

  We stare at each other for a few seconds, and even though I’m looking right at her, all I see in front of me are vivid memories. I can’t stop thinking about telling her that I know.

  I keep my mouth shut.

  Vrin seems nice, but I don’t know her. At least not well enough to tell her I was there that day. What if she locks me up?

  She leans back in her chair and it makes a creaking noise. “Are you all right?”

  Clearing my throat, I straighten my back and force a smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to… I wanted to thank you.” I stare at the boot marks on the floor. It’s the first time I see a dirty floor in all of Elysium. Obviously, Vrin isn’t as particular as Eve when it comes to cleanliness. I’m sure that’s a good thing. “I, um, I can’t thank you enough, Vrin. The nightmares have stopped. It’s all gone. All the horrible memories. I mean, they’re there, but they aren’t there if you know what I mean.”

  She smirks and nods slowly. “I do know, Gabriel. You’ve disassociated from your memories.”

  She says it like she’s been through it before. Maybe she has. She was in the military, after all. So no doubt she suffered from PTSD, too.

  “So, thank you,” I repeat.

  She’s still smiling with narrow eyes. The kind of eyes that express love and happiness. I’m assuming that’s her way of saying, You’re welcome.

  I don’t get it. She’s nothing like Eve. So why’d she associate with her during the war? What’s bothering me even more is… Why did she and Eve go separate ways? Why didn’t they stick together? Maybe Eve wouldn’t have turned out the way she did if Vrin had been in charge.

  Did she disapprove of what Eve had done?

  “Is there anything else, Gabriel?”

  I shift in my chair. “Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you about—”

  But then, something fucked up happens. The lights flicker and a soft hum fills the room before everything goes quiet. It’s so quiet that I hear myself take a breath.

  I feel like I’m back in the Oval Office hiding in the dark cabinet.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Vrin growls. “God damn it. Nayma told me this wouldn’t happen.”

  “What wouldn’t happen?” I ask.

  “APHRODITE’s shut down,” she says. “It’s part of an APHRODITE update. We have a few backup systems, but everything locks down when this happens.”

  “So all the doors are locked?” I ask.

  She waves a hand and huffs and I get the sense she wants me out of here.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

  “There isn’t much anyone can do to help,” she says. “Cameras are all out, so let’s hope no one gets lost. Elevators won’t move, so anyone with physical disabilities is stuck if they can’t use the stairs. Unless Nayma gets APHRODITE back up and running soon, we’re fucked.”

  CHAPTER 30 – LUCY

  “Stay focused,” Freyda says.

  It’s hard to stay focused with a dog that cute a few feet away from me. She barks, though it comes out as more of a high-pitched cry, and I melt.

  “She only wants off her leash to play,” I say.

  “Gabriel asked me to keep an eye on her,” Freyda says, “and I can’t do that if she’s running around the entire courtyard.”

  She swings a fist at me and I bring up a block pad like she taught me. She has a strong punch, but she’s going easy on me. I don’t even want to know how hard she can hit when she’s not holding back.

  “Right here.” She pats her stomach and I throw a kick at it. “No, not like that. You need to stabilize your core when you kick. And keep your hands up to protect your face.”

  “Who’s gonna hit me in the face when I’m kicking my whole leg out?”

  I do it again and out of nowhere, Emily slaps me across the face.

  I stumble backward and reach for my cheek. “Emily! What the hell?”

  Fre
yda bursts out laughing harder than I’ve ever heard her laugh before.

  “Gotta have eyes all around your head,” Emily says, repeating word for word what Freyda told us a few minutes ago.

  Rubbing my cheek, I glare at Emily. “You didn’t have to hit so hard.”

  “Come on,” Freyda says, “try it again.”

  I do as she says, and my kick comes out much better this time. I’ve kicked at her over a hundred times now, and every time I do, she finds a way to correct me more and more. But this last kick, she doesn’t say anything other than, “Awesome.”

  I must be getting a bit better.

  Emily continues practicing with one of Freyda’s friends. It’s a young guy in his twenties who seems to be as good as Freyda. He knows what he’s doing, and although Emily’s having a hard time keeping up, she’s learning slowly, like me.

  Fighting to catch my breath, I raise a hand and say, “Time out.”

  My back’s drenched in sweat and my throat is so dry I can barely swallow.

  Freyda hands me a metallic water bottle and I chug the whole thing.

  “I’m glad you came out here today,” Freyda says. “I have a lot I want to show you.”

  I point at a dozen targets lined up against a wooden wall at the far corner. A handful of men and women are doing target practice with bows, crossbows, and pellet guns. “Like that?”

  Freyda smirks at me. “Not yet. But we’ll get there. Basics come first.”

  I wipe my mouth. “Where’d you learn all of this?”

  She shrugs. “I grew up in martial arts. My dad was obsessed with them. He even taught me Krav Maga. Then when I grew up, I became a cop and learned how to handle weapons.”

  “Krav Maka?” I say.

  Freyda chuckles. “Maga. It’s Israeli. One of the deadliest martial arts out there.” She turns her attention to a man and woman fighting each other. They look alike, both with dark features, and are fighting in a way I’ve never seen before. The man pulls out a knife, and within seconds, the woman has him on the ground and the knife’s in the grass. “Yael and her brother are both heavily trained in Krav Maga. I’ll teach you the basics, but if you want to learn from the best, that’s who you want to talk to.”