I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.
‘What line is that?’ Hartman replies.
Great, here we go.
‘Getting into discussions about her parents. Your parents. It’s all a little real for my liking,’ Jackson says, while digging chunks of his dinner from his teeth with a toothpick.
‘Well, who gives a shit about your liking, Jackson?’ Hartman fans the flames.
‘Be careful, is all I’m saying.’ Jackson warns, not bothering to look at us.
‘You care about us now, Jackson?’ Hartman asks sarcastically.
‘Look, I don’t know where you two have been hiding for the past few days but I imagine it has something to do with what was said in the last session. No one gets away with breaking protocol so blatantly without punishment. Rumour has it that you’ve been holed up in some ward for psychiatric treatment, Bram. That true? Getting things off your chest about your difficult relationship ?’ Jackson mocks.
‘And where did those rumours start?’ my father says, entering the room behind us. The squad shuffle in their seats awkwardly, instantly becoming more alert and professional in his presence.
My heart sinks at the sight of him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since, and I realize I’m touching my head. I snatch my hand away and shake off the memory.
‘There’s too much at stake to waste energy on rumours and lies. This is not the academy. You are not children. You are young men at the epicentre of the most important moment in the history of our species and your personal issues are of zero importance in comparison to the challenge we face. Now suck it up and let’s get to work,’ my father commands.
I can’t help but feel that his words were meant for me alone. Suck it up and get to work. That was his apology.
‘Potential Number Three,’ he begins, wasting no time as he flashes up an image of a young man we’ve not seen before. ‘Although Potential is no longer appropriate as it’s absolutely necessary that this partnership is successful.’
My father talks us through Potential Number Three’s family history, his genetics, his political value, his fertility, his beliefs and morals. ‘He has been vetted, cross-checked, analysed, trained and briefed down to the most detailed level. He is, if it were at all possible, the most perfect match for Eve we have found to date.’
‘On paper,’ I interrupt.
A few heads turn slightly and shoot me awkward looks.
‘Do you have something to add, Bram?’ my father asks.
The room falls silent.
‘Well, it’s just that …’ suddenly I feel unsure of the words flowing from my mouth ‘… that it’s not about his intelligence or genetics. That’s not what relationships are based on.’
‘Go on.’ My dad nods.
‘So it doesn’t matter if we fill Eve’s head with how perfectly meant to be this or that one is. She’s a young woman with a mind and a heart of her own.’
Jackson forces a laugh, which I try my best to ignore.
‘She can’t be controlled like that. After what happened last time, you can’t just shove her into a room with one of these guys and expect them to play happy families,’ I finish.
‘Thank you, Bram,’ my father says calmly. ‘That’s why we won’t be asking them to do that. It is no longer an option.’
The squad listen intently. Seems that everyone is as eager as I am to find out what the new plan is.
‘Things are going to take a more scientific approach from now on. Eve is required to have no emotional relationship with Potential Number Three. She doesn’t even need to meet him if she doesn’t wish to. We simply need her cooperation, her compliance, and the procedure will be simple and painless. If it’s successful she could be pregnant next month, which is the timeframe we are currently working towards.’ My father has finished, standing in front of images showing various statistics and figures about Potential Number Three’s impressive genetic compatibility with Eve.
We take a moment to absorb the new plan. The approach we need to adopt to persuade Eve to comply with it.
‘Pregnant within a month and she’s not even required to meet him?’ I call. ‘Is that the way our future begins? Are those the foundations humanity is to rebuild on?’
I feel the stares of my fellow pilots, obviously not sharing my discomfort with this new arrangement.
‘Any future is better than none at all,’ my father says, looking deep into my eyes.
‘Is it?’ I reply.
19
Eve
‘It sounds so scientific and cold,’ I moan, turning to Holly, who’s been lying across the sofa in my room, listening to me vent ever since I left Vivian’s office in a rage ten minutes ago.
It’s fair to say the encounters haven’t been my main focus over the last week, which is odd for me, seeing as I’ve been working towards them for as long as I can remember. Instead I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts of my parents, Mother Nina, Bram, Holly, Michael, and dealing with the unanswered questions in my mind while trying to understand what is going on. It seems ‘what is going on’ is the successful pairing of me and Potential Number Three, even though we’ve never met.
As Potentials One and Two have been discounted – I have no idea what they’ve done with Diego’s body and don’t care – I’m stuck with the last option on their shortlist. I wasn’t too shocked by that piece of information, as it seems the obvious thing for them to decide when they’re eager to get things moving. I’ve been told I don’t have to meet Potential Number Three at all. There’d be no room full of people standing around as we spoke for the first time, no smoke-and-mirrors tactics to vet him. The vital parts of us would come together in a laboratory, the embryos placed later in my womb to incubate and grow.
I remember Vivian coming to my room two years ago and telling me what would happen after the initial meetings with the Potentials. I’d pick my favourite and would then be permitted to meet him as often as I liked. At the right time, when my body was ready, the Revival would occur. When she revealed what his body would do to mine, I was terrified. ‘We’ll be there with you,’ she said, in an attempt to console me, although the thought of the Mothers bearing witness to that act didn’t comfort me.
Since then plans for the Revival have become more elaborate and detailed, with a week-long ceremony to mark the first stage of the rebirth. During this time I’d come to see the importance and necessity of the deed. No longer am I so bashful at the thought.
After all Vivian’s preparation, I was surprised to hear her altered plans. Scrapping the ceremony and opting for a scientific route is a dramatic move and vastly different from how I was created.
‘There’ll be fewer variables this way. Less chance of human error,’ she said, when it was clear I didn’t understand why things were changing. ‘It’s your decision, of course.’
‘Mine?’ I practically choked.
I didn’t fail to notice the pleasure on her face.
Now Holly remains tight-lipped. I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s letting me get it all out so she can sweep in and rationalize everything for me once I’ve done with my frantic thoughts. She knows there’s no point in interrupting me when I’m like this as I won’t listen, and I know she’ll have had a fair idea of what was going to happen in Vivian’s room before I did – so she’ll have been ready for this reaction. Expecting it, even. It’s no coincidence that I’ve been told about the new procedure on the same day that my Holly has returned after a few days off. It’ll all be a part of their plan.
I’ve missed her.
Him.
I know they’ve been punishing me by keeping him away and leaving me with the other two for company. It’ll have been Vivian’s way of reminding me that she’s in charge of who comes in and out of the Dome and what goes on here. Mother Nina’s death is no excuse for challenging behaviour, not when we’ve been hit by a major security issue and they’ve had to rethink plans that have been years in the making. Vivian is signalling t
hat I have to respect the boundaries they’ve laid out for me, not be so ungrateful or cheeky. And I was incredibly cheeky.
Asking about the person behind their technology was certainly bold of me. Brazen, even. Going on to admit how much I liked his company was plain foolish on a variety of levels. It was the first time I’ve actually admitted out loud that I know Holly isn’t a real person – although they can’t think I’m that dumb, surely. I’m the first and only girl born in fifty years. Who is Holly meant to be if they want me to believe she’s real? Not that I’ve ever cared that she isn’t. It’s never mattered. Like I’ve said before, I’ve always been glad of the company. But now I know that a large part of her is very real. Right now I’m acutely aware that Bram is controlling her, and that the only way I get to continue having contact with him is through her.
I feel disloyal having reached that realization, as though I’m using Holly to get closer to him, but that’s not true. I’ve purposely not asked for him to join me here and tried my hardest not to schedule extra trips to the Drop in the hope of seeing him. I’ve allowed them to control when he’s with me. I’ve managed not to ask after my Holly or point out that things aren’t running according to our normal schedules. I’ve resisted temptation, which hasn’t been the easiest thing to do when I’m starting to see through the cracks.
I think of my mother and wonder whether I’m wrong to doubt the life they’ve built for me when she was so willing to be here. She put her faith in them, and trusted Vivian. She must’ve had good cause to. Plus, I can’t ignore the fact they’re allowing me to make a decision about my future. A decision that’ll affect all of us …
But then I think of Michael and how he didn’t try to spoil me, of Mother Nina and her husband, and of Bram and Holly, and wonder whether I’ve ever really made a decision, or had a true thought, when the facts I’ve been given have been tampered with. My reality has holes in it. I need to start poking around so that I can see things a little more clearly.
So, when it comes to making this decision about Potential Number Three and dismissing the ceremony, I’m dubious as to whether or not it’s all a trick. Whether they’re trying to coax me into agreeing to something for their own benefit or whether it’s genuinely up to me.
If the decision truly were my own, regardless of all the other thoughts littering my brain, I still wouldn’t be sure of what I wanted. The encounters have lost all their appeal. I don’t know if I’m open to going through another after two truly horrific experiences.
Perhaps letting science do its thing would make things easier. Perhaps I should allow them to extract and reposition my eggs, once they’ve been fertilized by Potential Number Three’s winning sperm. It simply doesn’t seem as special as the Revival ceremony I’ve been preparing for.
‘It all seems so sudden,’ I say, my hands working on the Rubik’s Cube in the hope that it’ll ease the frustration and anxiety I’m currently feeling.
‘Eve.’ She sighs, her fingers twiddling the ends of her hair.
‘We’re not talking about meeting a Potential, just about being fast-tracked through and partnered up due to a series of failures. Whether I meet him or not, I could be pregnant within weeks. I don’t know if I’m ready,’ I whisper, turning to her with my hand over my heart, my face anxiously screwed up.
‘It’s overwhelming,’ she notes calmly, barely moving.
‘Yes.’ I’ve continued reading my mum’s words, and it’s become blindingly obvious how prepared she was to have me. Things haven’t happened for me as I’d always thought they would, so I don’t feel that way. I’m like a little girl still. Not like a mother at all.
‘The outcome and desired results are still the same as before, Eve. That’s not changed,’ Holly says, closing her eyes. ‘They’re just looking at new ways of achieving the prolonged existence of our race without putting the only hope we have of survival in danger.’
‘The prolonged existence of our race ? Have you heard yourself? You’re talking about a baby. My baby!’ I say, forgetting for a second that this is my Holly.
Mum seems so jolly and upbeat in her letters. She doesn’t seem bogged down by pressure or as though she’s struggling to cope with the world expecting her to deliver its saviour. She sounds like a happy mum excited to meet her daughter. Our outlook is so different, and it pains me that the one woman who could have shared some of my anxieties can’t hear them.
‘You won’t be forced into the same awful position as last time,’ Holly says, sitting up while offering an apologetic look. ‘They don’t want the same mistakes to be made.’
‘I should think not,’ I grumble.
‘They want you to be comfortable.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘They do,’ she says, and adds softly, ‘I do.’
My heart does a little dance. Part of me knows I should be wary. This Holly could still be a part of their plan. But I can’t stop the way she makes me feel. I’ve always loved being around her, but now I know Bram is saying these words, I can’t help imagining him here with me, supporting me and caring for me.
‘So, do you want to meet him?’ she asks, breaking into my thoughts as she takes a deep breath in and reclines once more.
‘I don’t know. Is there any real need for a conversation between him and me?’ I frown, the weight of the decision slamming down on me and my emotions. ‘Does it matter if I like him? And by like him I mean simply find him agreeable – I’m not holding out hope for much more than that, given who they’ve previously paired me with. I mean, who was in charge of vetting them? Did they just pick names out of a hat?’
Holly throws her head back and laughs. It’s not the cute little giggle I’m accustomed to. It’s bigger. Bolder. It has to be more him .
I like it.
‘I need some air,’ I huff, putting down the Rubik’s Cube and stalking out of the door, arms swinging rigid at my sides. I can’t bear my room any longer. Here I’m trapped in my whirlwind of thoughts. ‘Come on,’ I call behind me. Whether or not she’s here to give me guidance, I don’t want her to leave me just yet. Not when she’s been gone for so long.
‘Coming,’ she calls, jumping to attention and trailing my heels as we follow the path to our usual spot.
My bedroom, the dining room, the classroom, the Drop – that’s all I ever see, other than a cold examination room and the occasional trip to my spot outside. It’s my routine and it’s all I know. It’s all they’ve allowed me to see. Over the years I’ve felt trepidation over what will take place in these few weeks and this first year, but now it’s arrived, my anxiety runs in a way I’ve never expected. I don’t want my greater understanding of the world to come after I fall pregnant. I don’t want to feel I’ve got only half of the picture when providing the world with my offspring. I don’t want knowledge and understanding to come too late.
‘There’s no rush to decide,’ Holly says, as she lowers herself with no regard for the Drop below us. Today she’s wearing the most girly outfit I’ve ever seen her in – baby pink jeans, a cerise skin-tight top with tassels, and silver-glitter jelly wedges. Someone is trying to erase the fact that she’s a he, but all I can think of is that Bram is underneath, wearing his Lycra bodysuit, dictating her every move.
‘What do you think I should do?’ I ask, the pleading whine in my voice making me shudder. I want her opinion.
‘I can’t answer that.’
‘But you always do,’ I say, shocked, as I turn to her.
‘No, I don’t.’ She frowns.
‘Seriously? You can be quite persuasive,’ I squeal. ‘I’m sure you’ve talked me into numerous things over the years.’
‘Eve!’
‘Are you going to deny it?’ I challenge.
She’s looking a little hurt and uncomfortable. ‘I never make you do anything you don’t want to, Eve … Do I?’
‘No. I guess not,’ I say, not wanting to offend her and wishing I could nudge her shoulder affectionately to check in with her that she
’s okay. ‘But you always have an opinion to share.’
‘This is different. It has to be your decision,’ she says, her face not losing its frown. ‘Your choice. It’s your body. I … can’t imagine what it would be like to do either.’
‘What – science or intercourse?’ I blush. Not because it’s the choice I’m faced with, but because I’m speaking about the Revival with my Holly.
Once more the sight of his face and sweaty muscular body stirs in my memory. I don’t think I’d find the decision so difficult if I were talking about him . Although maybe the fact that I’m so disappointed it’s not him should help me reach my verdict. I know I have a duty to the world, but I can’t be forced into having feelings for someone. If I meet Potential Number Three and there’s nothing I’d be crushed. If I really disliked him I’d be devastated.
In my silence Holly reaches behind her. When she brings her hand back to her lap she’s holding a Rubik’s Cube – identical to the one I just left in my room.
‘Where’d you get that from?’ I ask, glancing behind me and wondering how long it’ll be before Vivian comes marching along to reprimand me and drag me back to my room, or whether they’ll decide simply to switch Bram off.
‘It’s fine. I’ve cleared it. It’s mine.’
‘Oh!’ I understand: there’s no way she’d be holding mine. Hers is like her: here but not.
Holly laughs – just as loudly and freely as before.
I love that laugh.
‘I figured it would help to clear your mind. This place in the clouds, your silly little gadget … it’ll help.’
Despite myself I feel the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile and my own frown easing away.
‘You can’t touch it, though,’ she warns, her voice stern while her eyes twinkle. She’s pleased with herself for thinking this one up.
‘Oh?’ I reply, my breath catching in my throat.
‘You just have to tell me what to do,’ she explains, licking her lips and looking at the Cube with an intense glare, as though she’s entirely focused on the task ahead. ‘You know I’ve always been rubbish with these.’
Eve of Man: Eve of Man Trilogy Page 12