by Clint Stoker
“Okay, Napal.” Air felt his blood-pressure drop. “We’ll talk about it later. I’m still trying to figure this out myself.”
“Understandably.” Napal Nodded. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” He smiled as if to apologize and bounced back on his heels. “Actually, tomorrow you have service don’t you?”
Air nodded. He had forgotten about weekly service himself. Tuesday was his day.
“We’ll discuss it another time. Good talk, Air.” He walked through the door after leaving Air a two-fingered salute as a weak attempt to reconcile all the bad feelings between them.
Air pushed a pile of documents off the table. They flapped onto the floor releasing their contents in a regrettable disorder. Pacing around the disheveled table, he made two half-hearted endeavors to pick up the file before his curiosity was strong enough to win over his pride. He reached for the investigation form Napal had read from. The lower half wrinkled under his sweaty thumb. A colored photograph of the man clipped to the top corner. The photo looked significantly different than the pathetic, sobbing man he had known from the purging basement. He smiled in the photo, dressed in a suit. Air lifted the corner of the photo and read the name.
Adam.
He paused and wondered what Adam was like before he fell victim to guilt. They might have spent time together at celebration or worked together in the distant past. Did Adam deserve to die? He continued to skim the page until he found what he was really looking for.
-Side effects-
Memories: Children, crime, the elderly and death.
Unusual Behaviors: Sleeping, praying and depression.
Article 4
There will be no other defined relationships besides friends in the city. In order to promote an equal union among all residents, no last names or families will be permitted. Because of world-wide overpopulation, reproduction is prohibited except as it pertains to the rebirth ceremony. By accepting this responsibility you may be counted as a resident.
-The Founder
Chapter 5
Celebration was a little over an hour away and Air hadn’t left the cleaning center yet. He thought about the wrinkled man and wondered if he would make another attempt at sedating him. Air checked down the hall to make sure he was still alone. Taking the handgun from its holster and weighing it in his hand, he thought to himself. What good is an unloaded gun? He walked down the hall and stopped at a closet labeled armory. It wasn’t locked. Rifles, shotguns, and heavy machine guns sat perched on sturdy racks. It was enough to wage a sizable battle. The ammunition boxes rested below the racks. He opened the box labeled 9mm and took out three smaller rectangular boxes. Sliding two in his pocket, he opened the third to load his revolver.
Air left the cleaning center at six-o-clock, but instead of riding the transport back to his apartment, he decided to stop at a diner just south of the cleaning center. It was run-down and empty except for three waitresses who were throwing darts and making jokes. It certainly got more business during the day. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place anyone would want to go to celebrate. Air sat in a booth next to the front window and unbuttoned his collar.
“Can I get something for you?” A brown-haired waitress smiled and slowly made her way to Air’s table. Her stomach protruded pulling against the white fabric of her apron. She waddled oddly and steadied herself by leaning on to each chair-back she passed.
“What do you suggest?” Air smiled, trying not to stare. What are the odds? This was the second pregnant woman he’d seen in less-than 24 hours.
“I suggest going down the street to Jeanie’s, they have really good sandwiches.”
“How about a salad?” asked Air.
“Sure, I’ll bring one right out.” She turned and walked pigeon-toed back to the counter.
A screen in the corner of the diner played the news. Air looked over his shoulder through the window to see if celebrations had started, but the street was still fairly quiet. He watched a slow trickle of late working clerks leave the cleaning center. The waitress returned with a glass of water and he dismissed her with a warm nod. He watched as the shadows crept over the office building across the street. A few sips of lukewarm water were all he could handle, so he watched the news for a few minutes.
“Here you are.” The waitress presented a plate of lettuce and shredded cabbage in the early stages of wilting before him.
“Thanks,” Air smiled.
She twirled a lock of hair with two fingers and chomped on a wad of gum and turned as if to further emphasize her expanding figure. “You’d better eat fast or you won’t make it back in time to get your mask on,” she teased.
“Yeah, I probably should.” He stabbed a limp leaf with a fork.
“My name is Clair.” She extended a hand.
“I’m Air.” He motioned with the back of his fork then drowned his salad in thick dressing. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Air briefly glanced at her stomach.
“Sure… you want to touch it, right?” She smiled flirtatiously. She was well-practiced in milking it for all she could.
“No, No…” He laughed, “I met another pregnant woman just last night, if you can believe that. I’m just wondering why you would ever want to get fat and hobble around for nine months just for tradition’s sake.”
“Well,” she grinned, “I guess it is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Only five women…”
“That’s what Victoria, the woman I met last night, said too. But what I want to know is if it’s worth the novelty… Really?” He raised an eyebrow prompting her to give him an answer he could accept.
She smiled and pressed a hand to her chin, carefully crafting a satisfactory response. “Okay. You know, the best thing about this rebirth is the extra rations.” She looked toward the other waitresses and nodded. They weren’t even listening and she still took the opportunity to rub it in.
“Finally, an honest response,” Air said.
“I really do like the prestige of it all,” she added.
“I can understand that,” Air lied to be agreeable, as usual. It was easier that way.
A couple masked patrons entered the diner, took one look at Air and the empty seats, then turned and left. Outside, more costumed celebrators hurried past to their various destinations.
“Oh, no.” She seemed earnestly concerned, “You really need to get home and change.”
He didn’t want to go back to his apartment. They knew where he lived.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have any extra celebration outfits here. There aren’t any patrons to miss you anyway. You guys probably duck-out all the time.”
It was against the rules to wear anything but assigned celebration clothes, but Air didn’t see much of a choice. He wasn’t ready to risk being stalked and put to sleep again. And taking Clair along would be considered meeting a new woman.
“Okay,” she smiled, “Go outside and walk around to the back door.”
On any normal evening, Air would have no reason to break the rules or to convince others to break them for that matter. But rules didn’t seem as important anymore. All he wanted to do was find someone else who might feel guilty too.
As the sky dimmed, droves of people dispersed into the streets. It was like one massive urban mascaraed party. Air walked around the diner and watched the celebration until the door cracked open. Clair peered out with a skittish smile. She wore a teal mask with white flower prints. She stepped out and quickly closed the door behind her quietly. Judging from her calmness, it wasn’t her first time to break that rule. Her robe was bundled in the front where she hid the second celebration outfit.
“Hurry, put this on.” She slipped out a matching teal mask and tossed it with excitement.
“Thank you, this is perfect.” Air reminded himself to be polite as it turned into a date.
“Do you want to finish your salad? Because I can put it in a box if you want.”
“No, thanks.” Air smoothed the robe over his work clothes.
The mask fit too snug and it seemed to pull itself down his face uncomfortably. Still, it was a disguise. He patted his side to feel the gun and gained some mild reassurance. “Let’s go across town and find something to eat with more… substance.” He smiled and tried his best to be charming, already feeling dissatisfied with her. But wasn’t that always the case? Except, this time he tried to imagine her being the woman from his dream, but she didn’t fit. She was a fine woman, and cute, but he couldn’t help compare her. Not that he wanted to think about the dream. It was awful. Awful because of the death, awful because the woman only reminded him of what he didn’t have.
They made their way through the celebration to a transport and traveled west. After a quiet ride, they got off a few blocks from his apartment. He felt safer wearing her clothes. They stopped at a little street café where he could keep an eye out for anything strange. They ate pasta and sat outside watching the celebration surge along. Slow music from the café mingled with the music of competing restaurants. The dissonance made Air feel more comfortable, like he could hide in the confusion. Several familiar residents passed by but none recognized him in his feminine costume. Clair complained about back pains and nausea that had attended the growth in her abdomen. Air made a point to encourage her venting. Being nice had more to do with listening than replying. For several hours, she went on about her career, friends and other women being jealous of her for being chosen as one of the five. She seemed pleased with the added drama. When she finally wound down, Air felt obligated to change the topic.
“This might sound incredibly weird, but do you remember what your life was like before the city?” It was all he could think about.
“Before the city… what do you mean?” She smiled as if expecting a joke or another one of those rehearsed lines she was used to getting from men.
“You haven’t been a waitress your whole life have you?” He poked at his food to appear less interested.
“No, I used to tend a bar,” she said, confused and poised for disappointment.
“And what did you do before that?”
“I don’t know,” she smirked.
“Do you remember the last time you slept?” He leaned closer as if the next line she spoke would inevitably prove his point.
“What does that have to do with anything?” She dodged.
“I’ve just been thinking about it.” Air twirled the straw in his glass.
“You’ve been thinking about how far back I can remember?”
“Not just you.” He blushed. “Not you at all. I’ve been thinking about it in general.”
She raised her eyebrows suspiciously then shrugged it off, accustomed to men embarrassing themselves.
“I’m sorry.” Air pushed his mask up. “Let’s talk about you. What is the rebirth going to be like?”
“The doctor says I’m going to be put to sleep for the rebirth.” She frowned. “I’m honestly not looking forward to sleeping.”
“Did you have a bad experience last time you slept?” A leading question.
“I’m not sure I remember the last time I slept. I just remember not enjoying it at all.” She took a sip from her glass and sat back uncomfortably. “Do you want to go see a movie or go play a game?” Clair suggested, suddenly bored with the topic.
“Maybe a little later,” said Air.
She took another drink and sat listening to distant street musicians. Her eyes darted around as she debated whether or not to end the rendezvous and find someone more enthralled with her.
“I slept last night,” Air started. Why tell Clair? He didn’t know what he was looking for anymore. “It was an accident, I guess, but I had a dream.” It would be best to end the conversation. Call it a night.
Clair bit her bottom lip and folded her arms around herself. She stared at the ground and fidgeted with her hands.
“Do you remember dreaming?” Air continued against his better judgment.
“No, I don’t remember… It’s just that I don’t like sleeping.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What?”
“You don’t remember anything! How did you get here?”
“I should go.” Her voice cracked and she stood up from her chair. Her eyes glistened with oncoming tears.
“Wait.” Air reached for her hand though he knew it was too late to salvage a normal date. “Don’t you want to find out?”
Her cloak flowed in the warm breeze and she disappeared into the celebration.
Air sighed. He was acting weird and he knew it. This is what it felt like to become one of those conspiracy theorists worse than Napal. Air even laughed himself every time one of those nuts showed up on the news seriously planning on winning the election. They based their campaigns on the most ridiculous issues. He knew his own fears must have made him look crazy. Put him in the same category as those other crazies. He would let it all go if he could. It seemed to be easier to forgive Napal for being so candid.
Air called for the waiter, handed him his ration card and tossed his cloth napkin onto his unfinished dish. He resigned to spend the rest of celebration alone where he couldn’t do any more damage. When the waiter returned with his card, Air felt a sudden and sharp impression that he was being watched. It was so strong, he jerked around in his seat. Two tables back, startled by Air’s sudden movement, a man knocked a glass off the table. The glass chimed as it broke across the cobblestone. The man stooped over, with some difficulty, and picked up the larger shards of glass and set them neatly on the table. He looked back at Air to see if he had been found out. A black mask and deep wrinkles.
Air stared. Anger ran hot through his veins. He gripped the gun handle through his cloak. He could shoot the man immediately and end it all. The thought of killing another man made his head reel. He could run. Running didn’t do him any good the first time. No. He had to put an end to it. Adrenalin pumped his legs into the ground. As he stood erect, he pulled his cloak up and yanked the gun from its holster. He clasped the gun firmly and locked his arms. The celebrators gasped then looked at him with curiosity. He didn’t care what they thought. An instinct kicked in. He glided toward the man like a predator, each step landing neatly in front of the last on an invisible line.
The man reached for the table and pulled himself to his feet. His joints popped and he struggled to find a safe direction to escape. “Wait,” he pleaded.
All the guilt seemed to come back to Air as he watched the man shake. The urge to pull the trigger vanished and Air searched for a better solution. Nothing. He pressed the pointed gun against the man’s chest. They froze, staring at each other, both waiting for the other to make a decision.
Chapter 6
“Put the gun down, Air.” The wrinkled man was still.
Air grabbed the old man’s arm and pulled him away from the table. They walked down the alley behind the restaurant. A dumpster helped to conceal them. The pungent smell only made Air more irritable.
“Who are you?” Air demanded.
“Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”
“No.” Air jammed the point of the gun into the man’s ribs.
“Air, listen.” He seemed more concerned with Air’s tight grip on his arm than the gun. “We both know that’s about as lethal as a paperweight. Save us both the trouble and let’s go somewhere private to talk.”
Air couldn’t let the man take control over the situation, so he pushed him around the back of the café and into an alley. With a crooked arm, he fired a shot into the night sky. The old man shook slightly. “You loaded it?”
“Get on your knees.” Air pushed the gun against the man’s forehead and directed him downward.
“My name is Fields…” The tremor silenced him.
Air ripped off Fields’ mask with his free hand. Dusty-grey hair and sun-spotted skin. His eyes were red with fatigue.
“You’re just an old man.” He couldn’t remember ever seeing an old man before, but that was how he recognized Fields.
“So are you. It just shows in me.” Fields voice quivered only for a moment then he took control. “Please, Air. Let’s talk about this somewhere else.”
“I’m not old. There are no old men in the city, except you. Where did you come from?” He pushed the gun against his temple.
“I’m a resident, just like you.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Please, Air. Stop it. Don’t act like this.”
“Like what?”
“A killer.”
Guilt washed over as Air realized he must have looked like a tyrant. He lowered the gun slightly.
Fields lifted both hands submissively above his shoulders. His arthritic knuckles bulging like ostrich knees.
“I see what you’re doing. You stalk me, jab me with needles and now that I caught you, suddenly you’re the victim.”
“I’m trying to help you, Air.”
“Help me?”
“Yes. This would all make more sense if you remembered more.”
“What’s in your cloak?” Air waved the gun haphazardly.
Fields slowly opened his cloak, pulled two syringes from his belt and gently set them on the ground.
“This is how you help?”
“It’s the only way to get you to sleep.”
“You were going to do it again, tonight?”
“Put you to sleep? Yes.”
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to let you sedate me again?”
“Then do it yourself, go to sleep. I have pills you can use if you’d like.”
“You are a crazy old man.”
“You were supposed to learn for yourself, through your dreams. You can trust me, Air. I know you better than you think. You just have to remember.”
“How do you know me?”
“I know a lot of things… I remember. I can help you remember too.”
“Shut up!” Air lifted the gun again. “Tell me, why have you been following me?”