by Jaclyn Lewis
The bell rings. I can barely hear the sound of my liberation when my pickaxe falls to the ground and I follow suit about five seconds later. The last image in my head is of a snowy mountaintop where the only sound is a bird singing the praises of the cold.
* * *
When I wake up I’m lying on a table inside the cave. Lotus is splashing—no…pouring water over my face. I cough as I choke on some of it, then I sit up and shake my head.
There are people all around me and they clap and cheer when I sit up. I look at my patch and realize that I haven’t really been out that long. 12:34--Everyone surrounds me because it is still lunchtime. And maybe a few of them were concerned.
“Are you ok?” Lotus looks worried.
“I guess so.” I sound confused and disoriented. “I finished my four and a half hours didn’t I?”
“Ha-ha…yes you did. You almost killed yourself doing it. How selfish. I work and slave all morning and then it took two of us to carry you in here.”
At first I do feel guilty and embarrassed, but when everyone chuckles I know she was just joking. “Now please drink as much water as you can so you don’t die of dehydration. I don’t want to have to carry you to the elevator, too. You’re kind of heavy.”
Everything in my body hurts. But my mind is overrun with the joy that I didn’t quit. I am stronger than I thought I was. The rest of the day will be hot, but not as physically or mentally challenging. At least I will be able to talk to Lotus while we cut the diamonds this afternoon.
I scarf my lunch down and guzzle water just before one o’clock. The brownie in my lunch bag was definitely worth living for. We grab our laser cutters and go back outside to our barrels. I don’t want to force myself to move, but I find the strength to drag my resisting body back outside into the sun.
“I’m proud of you, Genna.” Lotus says with a thoughtful glance. “Ya know, most of the time a trainer just accepts the fact that they carry a little extra burden for a while. If Noah’s not in one of his sub-human moods, we can get away with helping the new recruits a little. People will still make the newbies feel bad about it, Noah may still be unpredictable and do something unthinkable, but it’s not abnormal for it to take a very long time for you to build up the strength to do what I do every day. By allowing yourself to be pushed to a limit, you really proved something to me today. You’re a tough cookie.”
The rest of the day goes by more quickly because I can talk to Lotus. We cut our diamonds and my second day on the job comes to a satisfied end.
As soon as we dock at Erimos core, I’m flagged for the clinic. Apparently Doctor Mitchell heard that I passed out in the Sugar Pit today and wants to check up on me. Great.
I head to his office—covered in sweat and dust. There are about a half dozen other snowflakes in the waiting room. As soon as he sees me, he calls me back ahead of them.
He ushers me into his exam room.
“Genna, are you ok?” He sounds so concerned I’m shocked.
“Yeah I’m fine—it’s just hot and really scary out there. I’m sure I’ve never worked that hard in my life. A girl died yesterday and Noah just let it happen.”
I hadn’t really intended to tell him that last part, but it felt like someone should know, and I thought maybe of all people he would care.
He looks surprised. “Noah told me she fell off the cliff. Her name was Ana. Do you want to tell me what you saw?”
I recount the whole story about the girl being overworked, Noah throwing the water bottle out of her reach, and the moment she went motionless. At this I start to cry.
“Genna, you’re…you’re crying.”
“Obviously.” I sniff sarcastically.
“You’re exhibiting so much emotion over someone you didn’t know.”
I’m tired of him stating the obvious and also acting shocked by everything I say. Isn’t he supposed to be a doctor…all in tune with the body and soul?
“Of course I’m showing emotion and you should be too! That girl was human, Doctor Mitchell. Don’t you know that?”
He just stands there for a moment before grabbing a tissue for me. His face reflects surprise—like he’s never been spoken to like that before. Suddenly, I’m ashamed. Even if I’m not sorry for what I said.
“I do know that. But sometimes I need reminding. You can go, Genna.”
He never took vital signs or wrote anything in my chart.
When I get back to my den, I feel as if I’m covered in all the sweat and filth of the planet. The clothes in my locker have been laundered and to my surprise my white tank tops are sparkling white again. After I’m finished cleaning up, I decide to lie on my bed for just a few seconds. The stillness and quiet is a relief to my senses.
Those seconds turn into hours and I wake up to the sound of my roommates coming in from dinner. Great--I missed dinner. It would have been nice to replace some of the calories I shed today.
Ember comes in with a smirk on her face. Not excited exactly—victorious. “Hey sleeping beauty, guess what! I survived combat training day two.”
She has a cut on her face and the bruise from yesterday is turning a dark color. She looks terrible and smells like stale sweat.
“Well, that’s…good.” I say as I sluggishly sit up and yawn. “You look like death.”
She ignores me. “I fought that Gavin guy again and I got in some great punches. I sneaked in a groin kick—which they failed to tell me was illegal. I had to make up for that with pushups later.” She pauses with a sort of indecisive regret and then continues. “But, he stayed down for ten seconds and I won the match--which is good because I think I would have had to fight a very angry Gavin if he had gotten on his feet. Then I might have died.”
She’s running off the adrenaline of success. It’s kind of funny to hear her blurting out so much at one time. So far I’ve pegged her to be a very calculated thinker who doesn’t say much. I’m learning that people can surprise you.
The militia sounds like an extremely brutal division to be assigned to. Even so, I’m glad that Ember is learning to hold her own.
She smiles and says, “I surprised myself today, Genna. I thought I was weak, but I’m stronger than I thought.”
I ponder her words for a few quiet seconds and reply, “I think you’re right.”
Chapter 9
*
Genesis
My stomach growls, but I don’t feel like walking anywhere and it’s almost time for bed. I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll just skip dinner. As if he can read my thoughts, Silas knocks on the door.
He hands me a box and I open it. Inside are two muffins, a few slices of pineapple, and a plate of eggs.
“Your friends told me that they found you crashed out on your bunk when they got in from work. So I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” His milky brown eyes look actually golden behind his glasses.
“Thank you, Silas. That was so thoughtful of you.” I’m deeply touched by this sweet gesture. “And I am pretty hungry. I feel like I could eat an elephant.”
“Well, I didn’t bring you one of those. Maybe next time.” He teases. “Your face is so very red.”
My cheek smarts when I touch it. “Yeah. I wonder whose brilliant idea it was to send me to work outside all day.”
I start chewing…trying to be a lady as much as possible. Still, I end up slurping my pineapple more than I intended to. Silas sits on the bed across from me and starts talking.
“So…I think that if we were back on Earth I would get to know you by asking ‘Where are you from? Do you have any hobbies? What’s your family like?”
“Well, my file says I’m from Atlanta, Georgia. You?”
“Me too! My file didn’t say much more, but how cool is that? We’re from the same town! What if we went to the same school and stuff? What if I took you to prom and we danced into the wee hours of the night?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a bit imaginative. What if we didn’t know each other at all or we were m
ortal enemies? To answer your next question, my hobby is musing about who I am and where I came from. I don’t do much of anything else in my spare time.”
“How funny. I do that too! See? We have a common interest. This can not be a coincidence.”
We giggle and it feels good to just be silly with someone. His wit is unmatched by anyone I’ve met here so far, and I’m having a great time with him. I wonder if I felt like this as a child.
We’re already adults so that should make us somewhat mature. But, instead I feel the constant dissidence between my maturity and the childlike faith with which I have to embrace everything around me. We all have no idea where this society came from or how long it will endure so we just take life as it comes.
“So I had this crazy dream last night.” He tells me.
“I was sitting on the beach with this girl.”
“Ew. I hope mushy details aren’t about to follow.” I tease.
“Actually, I would like to hear about it. I had a weird dream my first night here.”
“It’s really not that interesting.” He tells me. “I just dreamed I couldn’t swim so we sat on the beach and watched the waves instead. It felt so real, though. Tell me about yours.”
So I share with him how strange it is that others have had the same dream as mine. Silas didn’t share the details of his with anyone else, because he didn’t think anyone would find them interesting.
As I eat, he tells me about life in the cafeteria. He’s horribly frustrated and feels like he’s been slighted by his assignment to the kitchen. I listen to him rant about how his vision isn’t really all that bad and he should have been allowed to do something else—something more important.
“All my coworkers act like they are in a daze.” He tells me. “They just do what they’re told without question—do the same thing every single day. They don’t even seem to care why.”
He’s already reorganized the shipping schedule and made things run more efficiently. Now he’s bored. I wonder why he got assigned to the kitchen in the first place.
I’ve been curious about something since we first met so I ask the question.
“Esther told you that you were chosen for the kitchen because of a vision problem and irregularities in your memories. Do you have any idea what she was referring to?” I’m asking through a mouthful of food and I accidently spit some muffin at Silas.
I’m feeling that warm feeling in my cheeks again—I’ve embarrassed myself. He grimaces and gives me a quick look of disgust before answering.
He hesitates. “I didn’t really see anything special.”
I think I just found the worst liar in the universe.
“What did you see?” I pressure him.
“I saw what everyone else did—the bomb, the building, the woman holding the child.”
I know he’s holding back, but if he doesn’t want to share it with me, maybe he has a reason. I really shouldn’t be nosy. It’s at the point of my capitulation that Silas suddenly changes his mind about telling me.
“But what really got my attention was the camera.” He adds.
“What camera?”
“I saw the reflection of a camera in the window behind the woman’s head. But you can’t tell anyone about it. I told someone else and they acted kind of weirded out and scared when I told them. So keep it to yourself, ok?”
I’ve stopped eating at this point. I don’t remember seeing a camera. I guess my attention was focused on the sun. It seems strange, though that Esther would react that way and that they would assign Silas a job that doesn’t fit him just because of that “irregularity”.
I can tell he doesn’t really want to talk anymore about it so we discuss other things and we end up talking for a long time.
I feel like I can completely open up to Silas about my struggles at the Sugar Pit. He’s the only person I know who isn’t also in survival mode every day. Except Kylee in the pilot program, but she disgusts everyone with her giddiness over specter technology and classroom notes.
Silas is different--he’s struggling, but in ways not similar to me, and it allows us to exchange our stories with freedom. He is the easiest person to talk to here and he listens…I mean really listens; not just the kind of listening that is equal to simply forming what to say when the other person finally stops talking. He’s also highly opinionated and sarcastic, but I don’t mind.
I tell him all about the specter, and what it feels like to ride in one. We talk about my friend Lotus and about how I passed out today and the confusion I feel when I think about the girl who died in the Sugar Pit. I vomit my emotions on him like a geyser that has been waiting to spew its frustration on the ground. I like that I don’t have to hide anything from him and it makes me feel better. I even cry a little, but not so much that conversation ends. I can tell he’s glad for that. I’m not sure, but I think it would make things awkward if I cried in front of him.
When I’m done eating he says, “I’ll let you get some sleep. It was nice talking to you and I hope you have a better day tomorrow. Lotus was right…you really are a strong woman, Genna. Don’t let anyone make you believe any different.”
“Thanks for listening, Silas, and thank you for the food. See you in the morning.”
I’m not sure what it is that I feel for Silas, but he is sweet, and kind, and understanding, and right now I need that from him more than he even realizes.
* * *
The next day at breakfast I look for Silas first thing and I smile when he sees me walking toward the bread counter.
“Muffins! Well, that’s a treat. Did you make them yourself, baker boy?” I ask.
“Yes, and I popped them out of the tins and set them in this beautiful arrangement. Nice huh?” He has arranged the muffins in the shape of a six-layered snowflake.
“Yeah…you’ve got some serious skills there.” I roll my eyes a little.
“I know. I should teach a class in muffin arranging. So far the bosses feel like I’ve made enough changes and when I brought it up they looked like they wanted to hurt me.”
Would Silas seriously consider muffin arranging an actual thing? I don’t think so. But his sense of humor always keeps me guessing and I like that. I start to walk away toward the drinks, but he stops me.
“Hey, ya know, Genna. I was thinking that maybe we could do something after I get off work tonight. Like go to the recreation area or something. I enjoyed talking to you last night and if you think you could endure it I’d like to talk to you some more. Who knows? Maybe you’ll need to vent about day three in the mines?”
I can’t help but smile at his boyish crimson face. I don’t know what it is about Silas. I don’t particularly find him attractive…yet I’m drawn to him. I feel that we are very much alike and I do want to get to know him better so I inquire, “Are you asking me on a date?”
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t you have to get a permission slip for that?” He puts his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I just want to hang out.”
I actually like that answer better than the one I thought I was going to get so I say “Sure. That would be great. How about seven o’clock tonight in the rec den?”
I don’t know what answer he was expecting, but he seems surprised that I accepted without much hesitation. It shouldn’t surprise him—especially if it isn’t a date.
Smiling as I walk away, I feel the urge to look back at him, but I resist it. The pull between us is like a magnet and a piece of metal. Like those little paperclips and the holders they are supposed to stay attached to. I picture an office and an angry secretary fiddling with those things. The paperclips always seem to stay in their proper place unless they reach that one critical point where they can’t decide if they want to stay or go. I don’t know how it works with human hearts, but it feels like that when we are together.
Today my arms hurt even worse than yesterday while I work in the mines, but there’s a psychological strength that comes from knowing that you can do something because y
ou’ve done it before.
Like when my father taught me to ride a bike for the first time. As I recall this memory, it doesn’t frighten me anymore that all my memories are faceless. I’ve become accustomed to it. I had a blue Cinderella bike I loved to ride. I could look around at the trees, watch the squirrels, feel the wind, and never once have to think about what was holding me up.
Then the training wheels came off. I cried when my father wouldn’t put them back on. He told me I could learn to ride without them—that I was just being lazy. I was angry for a while and wouldn’t ride without falling down just to make a point. But then little by little, the absence of the extra support wasn’t scaring me—it was freeing me.
Then, I could get closer to the trees and the birds and the squirrels. I could feel the wind rushing by me in a different way. And it was exactly the fact that I had to hold myself up that gave me renewed excitement. I saw the world in a newer, older way.
Maybe it will be like that in the mines. This time I’m careful to drink more water and to control my breathing better. I think about my upcoming “unofficial date” with Silas that we have planned for tonight. The brainpower it takes to try to sort out my feelings makes the time go by faster.
I barely make it to the sound of the first bell, but this time I don’t collapse on the ground. I drag myself inside the cave and drink as much water as I can. It still takes almost fifteen minutes for me to recover enough to speak an entire sentence. I feel like I’d rather die than ever come back to this mine, but I make it through another day and that’s enough.
Lotus’ smile of approval makes it worth it. We don’t know much about each other, but sometimes the best friendships are forged in the fire of surviving something together, something no one else understands.
I can’t wait to shower when I get back to my dorm and again I collapse on my bed and sleep through dinner. When I wake up it is almost seven and I’m startled when I remember that I told Silas I would meet him in the rec lounge. I’m starving, but I don’t want to break a commitment to him.