by Clint Stoker
A party had started several stories below. People laughed and danced, swaying in the streets. Their faces were all concealed by various colored masks. Their bodies shrouded by elaborate togas and cloaks draped around their near-perfect bodies. Locked in their prime, they celebrated without fatigue or burdens. It could be a good idea to go down and forget his troubles again. It had worked before. He would have stayed in his apartment to sort out his feelings, but he finally conceded. He was expected at the villa for cards later anyway.
He rolled off the foot of his bed and opened the closet door. He unlatched his holster and set it up on a shelf along with the harmless gun. Inside, his celebration mask rested prominently on a thin stand just above his toga. He pulled the light, green silk over his head and studied the mask on the stand. It was a matching shade of green with white lines that faded in spots to form a kind of abstract design. The longer he looked at it, the sillier it seemed. He took the mask down and weighed it in his hand to waste time. Air never really loved celebrating like most residents. He celebrated almost solely to serve a purpose.
He slid the mask over his face. The smooth cloth straps covered a large portion on his hair when he tied it. The plastic face rested just below his nose so only his mouth, chin and eyes could be seen. The masks unique pattern made him recognizable to friends. This was another design of the city. Professional relationships stay professional and personal relationships stay impersonal. He might have enjoyed spending time with Napal during celebrations, but it was against the rules. Napal always talked about breaking that rule but with no real intent.
Air justified taking the stairs down with the intent to kill time. The thought of another long elevator ride made him uneasy. Outside the automatic doors, the streets buzzed with excitement. Air pushed through the dancing crowd. People rushed to the streets in droves as the sun set over the city skyline. The sweet aroma of foods floated in the air. Masked faces exchanged kisses and set off in every direction. A man sat at a pottery wheel on the sidewalk. People watched as he demonstrated his craft. A group of painters stood a little further down with their easels. Jewelers handed out necklaces. There was no need for exchanging credit or rations. It was all about sharing the art.
A new friend waved from the sidewalk. A smile threatened to split Air’s face until he remembered the man he had shot. One less celebrator was easily forgettable.
Air quickened his pace past a street café. There was enough lighting for everything to seem like day. The temperature was still warm. Everything smelled so good.
A woman in an elaborately decorated yellow mask waved from the café. “Are you hungry?” she said with a playful smile. She was already seated. Now all she needed was company.
Air’s first thought was to keep on walking. Before he could mull over his options further he spoke instinctively. “Yes, actually.” He surrendered to himself to eat dinner with another stranger. He tried not to think of it as a chore, though that was all his attempts at meeting new women had become. The food smelled good enough to keep him tolerant.
She sat at the little table with her bronze legs crossed. She settled down in her seat in anticipation for the spontaneous dinner. “Come sit down.” She adjusted her mask just slightly and flipped her hair.
“Have I met you recently?” His cordial smile seemed to be on auto-pilot.
“I don’t think so,” she said, “I’m Carla, if that helps any.” she smoothed a napkin on her lap. “I haven’t been to the east end of the city in a while, so I’m not expecting much as far as acquaintances go.”
“That’s good.” Air pulled a chair out and determined to make dinner short. “I’m Air.” He leaned forward and gave her a meaningless kiss nearly an inch away from her cheek, as social customs expected.
She touched his hand. “I love your mask. It makes your blue eyes pop.” She ran her fingers up his arm and along his broad shoulder where she then stopped to run her fingers through his hair. “Hmm… I love short hair.” She lingered.
Air shrugged. “Thanks.” She was really laying it on thick. It was already getting on his nerves. Better make it quick.
With a wisp of her hand, she waved to the waiter. “Bring us some bread.”
The waiter flipped-open a discreet spiral notebook and jotted it down. “We have a new artichoke sauce that you might like with it.”
“That’s fine,” she said, “Can you bring us some soup too?” She turned to Air. “I hope that’s okay with you. I’m craving soup.”
“Soup sounds great.” Air excelled at being agreeable.
The waiter dismissed himself.
“Wouldn’t it be awful to be a waiter?”
“I’m sure there are worse jobs.” Air raised an eyebrow.
“The job itself would be fine, but I would hate to work while everyone else is celebrating. And can you imagine celebrating during the day? It doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“True.”
“Do you live close by?” She sipped at her glass.
“Less-than a block away.”
“Oh, so you are staying close to home tonight?”
“I don’t usually venture off, ever really.”
Her eyes widened behind her mask. “You don’t? I couldn’t celebrate like that. I love meeting new people and seeing new places. It keeps things fresh.”
“There seems to be enough new people coming through for things to stay fresh… I guess I like the scenery here.” Air confessed.
“Well, there certainly is something to say for consistency. Nothing is wrong with that.”
Carla did most of the talking through dinner. It was well with Air. He needed the distraction and she had no expectations of him. He finished his soup quickly and let her go on talking about her latest endeavors. He waited for the first real lull in the conversation, and then he ended it.
“It’s been nice eating with you,” he said. “I really need to get going. I’m supposed to be meeting some friends tonight.”
“Old friends?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Consistency.” She smiled.
Before he could stand up, she kissed him softly on the cheek. They said goodbye and he went off down the street.
Warm twilight breathed in through his flowing toga. The buildings passed like silent observers one by one until he made it to The Villa. He swerved up the steps to avoid an ensemble of musicians playing the last riff of an up-beat song. People clapped as he pulled open the tall gold-handled door to The Villa.
Slot machines polluted the air with electronic beeps and rhythms. Each playing its own melody in competition. Multi-colored cloaks surrounded green felt tables. Their laughs added clamor to the casino. The smell of tobacco coaxed Air to relax.
“Air, over here,” A red masked figure shouted from a poker table.
Air weaved between tables and coached himself to act normal. He waved and smiled. He should say something witty to help break the ice.
“Cade, you didn’t start without me did you?” He gave up on wit and sat on the vacant stool across the table.
Cade smiled beneath his crimson mask. A woman in a pinkish mask and toga sat on his lap giggling uncontrollably as though something outrageous had just happened.
“Air, I’d like you to meet my new friend Victoria. Victoria this is Air,” Cade slurred.
She laughed through her nose and tossed her hands at the wrists as if presenting herself as a gift to the world.
“It’s great to meet you,” said Air.
“Oh, and take a look at this, Air.” Cade wrestled Victoria’s toga up over her stomach. She squealed and dropped her mouth open making an effort to seem shocked.
“Victoria was selected to be part of the rebirth,” Cade announced proudly, “See her fat belly is bulging.”
Air marveled at her tightly stretched abdomen. The rebirth ceremony was only a few days away and to see one of the five women was unusual. Her bulbous belly looked riddled with purple stretch marks. Cade lifted his toga to comp
are his own stomach. The comparison made her stomach seem more alien.
“Asher!” Cade shouted. “Come take a look at this. Look at how big her gut is.”
Asher wore a white cloak. He took the seat to Air’s right and burst out laughing. “It’s time for the rebirth already? That’s great. Congratulations,” he said.
Cade pulled his toga back down and dropped his hand onto a deck of cards. Victoria began adjusting her own toga when Cade rubbed his palm over her navel.
“It’s a good luck gut,” Cade quipped.
Victoria smiled and leaned her head on Cade’s shoulder. She soaked in all the praise and attention. In less than a week, her life would go back to normal and she would be just another resident.
“I was so surprised to be selected for the rebirth. Only five women get the honor and even that only happens every fifty years.” She clasped her hands together and sighed with satisfaction.
Cade scooted the cards over the table to Asher who shuffled. A few more acquaintances joined the game. Air couldn’t remember most of their names. He didn’t care. Celebration was all about forgetting new friends just as fast as they were made. He tried to enjoy himself. It was difficult at first, but the celebration eventually worked to dull his guilt.
Air lost most of his rations in the game. Rations were arbitrary points on a plastic card anyway. Anything Air needed he could get without ration points. He usually liked the socializing more than competition. A few hours passed and strangers joined and left the game. When Cade finally accepted he was far too intoxicated to continue playing, he stood up.
“Victoria, let’s go get something to eat and maybe go see a movie.” Cade took Victoria’s hand to steady himself.
“Nice to meet you, Victoria,” said Air politely.
They said goodbye and headed to the exit. Air watched them round the slot machines and go through the door to the artificially lit streets. A man standing near the exit seemed to demand Air’s attention. He was wearing a black celebration cloak and a white mask. The man seemed to be staring. Air turned away, hoping to break eye contact. The man stood fixed on Air.
“I think I’m going to take off too,” Air patted Asher on the shoulder.
“Don’t you want to win some of your rations back?” Asher poked.
“No, you can have them.”
Air turned and walked to the bar. He pretended not to notice the man staring at him. He sat at a stool and nonchalantly kept an eye on the man through the mirror behind the bar. Air ordered a drink and sat for less than a minute when the man started walking toward him. Air spun around on his stool. The man didn’t waver. He seemed to increase his speed as he stepped around a slot machine. His skin looked haggard. He appeared frighteningly different than anyone else in the city. His skin sunk with deep wrinkles and lacked the youthful elasticity characteristic of all city residents. Air felt the sickness in his stomach return. The aged face rang familiar.
“Can I help you?” Air spoke loud enough to keep some distance between them.
The man didn’t say a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver object. He concealed most of it in his fist, extended his arm and lunged forward, ignoring the other patrons. Air panicked. He jumped to his feet, swatted the man’s forearm and circled around a nearby craps table. The man held his arm to his chest, much more affected by the blow than a normal man might. He frowned, changed direction and started towards Air again. This time, he seemed more concerned with a couple patrons from whom he gained attention.
Air thought about yelling to draw more attention, but he resolved not to create a scene. He feared the administration had found out about his guilty conscience. He felt certain the man was going to bring him to Dex to be purged. He wasn’t surprised or even scared. He felt more regret than anything else. Not that there was much he could have done differently.
Air darted toward the back door, smiling as he ran to avoid any additional suspicion. He pushed through the doors and ran down the back alley. He looked behind him to spot his pursuer. The busy street thrived behind him, but he didn’t see the man with the black cloak. He ran through the alley until he reached the street ahead of him.
The theater stood across the street. A blinking marquee flashed show times and Air quickly dodged a party on the street and stood in front of the box office.
“I need a ticket.” Air tapped his fingers on the counter.
“Sure, what movie…”
“Surprise me,” Air interrupted.
“Let’s see, there is a new one out. The reviews are good but…”
“That’s fine,” Air tapped the glass impatiently.
“Sure.”
The ticket printed and Air dropped his ration card into the metal slot below the window. He turned to search the street behind him. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. He forced himself to relax. He just needed to get off the street for a while to figure things out.
“Hmm…” The box office attendant lifted the ration card to the window. “That’s not good.”
“What’s not good?”
“My computer keeps on saying you don’t have enough rations for a movie.”
Air bared down, “Come on, isn’t there something you can do?” He insisted.
The attendant shrugged sheepishly. He slid a ticket and the ration card into the slot. “Go on,” he said with a defeated scowl.
“Thank you,” Air nodded.
He walked along the glowing light strips to the back of the theater. He felt safer in the dark. Only a few people sat spread across the seats. Air took a seat in the back row. He wondered how much Dex knew about his guilt. It was unlikely he knew much. Air hadn’t talked to anybody. It hadn’t even been a full day since the purging. Air was sure he had covered his emotions well enough.
People slowly filed into the theater. Air scanned each person as they entered the darkness. A woman walked up the aisle. She walked slowly and swayed with a feminine grace. She wore a light blue toga and a sea-foam green mask. Stopping for a moment to make eye contact with Air, she smiled. Though he had more important things on his mind, Air couldn’t help but watch her. She was beautiful and she smelled like something sweet.
She sat next to him and smiled. He returned a smile. She leaned in as if to whisper something. He sat still to discourage her. He had become good at discouraging women. She slid closer.
Before Air could react, she pulled a silver syringe from within her toga and sharply jabbed Air in the neck. A needle pierced his skin and he realized his mistake. He flailed desperately. His eyes drooped almost instantly and darkness covered the world. He fought to stay awake, but he couldn’t do much more than regret his carelessness. Just before his consciousness surrendered, she spoke in a sweet voice.
“I’m so sorry, Air.”
Chapter 3
“Come to bed, Air. I’m tired.”
The voice blared in a repeating echo at first, but it grew louder and more vivid as Air fell deeper into sleep.
“Babe, are you coming to bed? I have to go to work tomorrow.” Her voice seemed to sooth his ears.
“Sure I’m coming, just let me brush my teeth.” He looked into a dim room and saw a woman lying in the bed. He couldn’t make out her face. It seemed like his eyes just wouldn’t focus. He turned and heard small voices laughing. They grew quieter until he couldn’t hear them anymore. The warmth diminished.
He looked around. He was no longer in a house. It was cold and he sat outside in a ditch. His clothes saturated in frosted mud. He clung tightly to a heavily used rifle, an AK47. On either side of him, men were dressed very similar. Each man had a small silver pin placed over the right pocket with the words ‘For life, for hope, for freedom’. Their faces embodied absolute terror and they shook uncontrollably in the dank ditch like cowering animals.
It was day, but the sky loomed dark with smoke and ash. Air peeked over the mounded dirt. Shattered trees and deeply scarred earth lay as far as he could see through the haze. In the distance,
a man cried. He screamed for help but Air didn’t answer. Guilt filled him as he realized what had to be done.
“What do we do?” a hushed voice called from the trench, squeaking from puberty.
Air turned to see a soldier dressed in a soiled uniform. He cowered next to his own cheaply crafted rifle. His torn uniform clung to his body splattered with blood. The other soldiers in the trenches looked to Air with a wanton expression. The boys shivered from cold and fright, unwilling to even think without first seeking Air’s council.
“We stick to the plan,” Air commanded, “I can’t risk another man’s life to save him.” It was no honorable command, but what else could he do? There was no honor left in the world.
“Yes sir.” The relief in their voices only made Air feel worse.
Explosions in the distance scattered large portions of dirt high into the air, blurring the divide between earth and sky. Each shell seemed to fall closer. The cries stopped. Air turned to his soldiers. Their eyes wide open with shock.
“Let’s go home. They’re getting closer and our families will need us.”
The landscape blurred. A warm calm wafted over Air. He lay on his back safe under a thick comforter. A woman laid her head on his chest. He couldn’t focus on her face, but he could sense she smiled.
“Why do you want to get that procedure done?” she whispered.
“There are a lot of reasons,” Air ran his fingers through her hair. “We could be happy, both of us. There wouldn’t be any more sickness. Can you imagine living forever?”