Athena's Choice

by Adam Boostrom

  Nomi said nothing as she looked at Athena, then at Mirza, then back at Athena.

  For a long minute, Mirza examined both of the girls. Her head tilted lightly to the side. A joyless chuckle escaped from her lips. “You are a determined one, Ms. Vosh. I can see why she was so fond of you.” A tiny light flickered onto Mirza’s face. “It's true that I knew the captain for a long time…a long time. And never before, in all that time, would she ever have suffered a civilian such as yourself traipsing around, pretending to be an officer of Public Safety.” A mournful half-smile crossed her lips. “Since you were able to earn her trust, you have earned mine. But first, I need something from you in return…something only you can give me. Something honest.”

  Athena reached out and grabbed Nomi’s hand in excitement. She gave it a squeeze. “Anything, Mirza. Just name it. It’s yours.”

  “It's not a ‘thing,’ Athena,” explained the olive-skinned woman. “It’s a ‘who.’ Before I give you what you want, I want to know who you are. Who you really are. I want to know what flaws lie beneath that young, impossibly-beautiful exterior.” She stared directly into Athena’s gray eyes. “Tell me something that you have never told anyone else. Tell me something that terrifies you.”

  Confusion swirled in Athena’s mind. She looked to Nomi, but Nomi only shrugged.

  “I’m afraid…” stuttered Athena. “I’m afraid that men really were as awful as you say they were. That if they came back, they would bring with them nothing but pain and suffering.” She trailed off, hoping that she had said enough to please her interrogator.

  “Wrong!” yelled Mirza. “You have lived in paradise for all of your nineteen years. You have never had any reason to fear the horrors of men, of rape, of war. I sincerely doubt you have given it even the slightest thought. Like all young women today, you take your safety and comfort for granted.”

  Mirza stood up and began to walk out of the room. “If you want my help, you’re going to need to do better than that.”

  Athena’s eyes turned silvery-white. Her consciousness searched quickly through its many hidden rooms.

  “It’s not a trick, Athena,” explained Mirza. “I just want you to be honest with me. I want to hear something from you that’s true.”

  “How about this,” interjected Nomi. “I’ll give you something true.” Her eyes glared directly at Mirza. “You’re weird. And this room is super creepy. C’mon, A. Let’s go.”

  Mirza turned to exit. “Very well, girls. Please close the door behind you on your way out.”

  “No, wait!” shouted Athena. “I’m…” her internal search had ravaged every corner of her subconscious brain before finally landing upon the kind of truth which she knew Mirza wanted to hear. “I’m—” A sudden pain hit her, as it hurt to even think the thought. She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I’ve wasted my entire life up to this point.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Ever since I was eight, I’ve been telling people I was going to be a famous artist, but it’s all a waste. I’m terrible. My paintings are trash. They aren’t even worth the canvas they’re painted on. All those galleries that refused to exhibit me? They were right to do it. I have nothing to offer the world. I’m worthless.” Athena's head bent low, weighed down by genuine shame.

  Mirza took a step back toward the center of the room. She stared right through Athena’s skin, focusing instead on the amazingly-rare sight of authentic, human vulnerability. “Go on,” she commanded.

  Athena drew in another deep breath. “There was this one time — it was before I got my contacts put in, so I must have been about seven — when my mother took me to an art museum. She said she wanted to show me this painting that was her favorite painting in the whole world. It was called La Clairvoyance.”

  Mirza took a seat and closed her eyes. She inhaled Athena’s confession like a drug.

  “So we go and see the painting, and in it, this artist is staring at an object and painting what he sees. Only, the object he’s staring at is an egg, but what he’s painting is not an egg. What he’s painting is a fully-grown bird. ‘That’s what real art is,’ my mother said. ‘The man in there, he isn’t just seeing the world for what it is. He’s seeing it for what it could be. He’s not just viewing an egg, he’s viewing all of the egg’s future-promise and potential, fully brought to life.’”

  Athena’s eyes began to tear up around the edges. “So that day in the museum, I decided that I could do that too, right? I could work really hard and become an artist. And one day mothers would take their daughters to famous museums to come and look at my work.”

  She paused to wipe away the small pool of water on her right cheek. “And so that’s what I set out to do. And for the last ten years, I’ve spent forty, fifty, sometimes eighty hours a week, painting. I studied everything I could find on the subject. I took every class my school offered. At this point, I really do know everything there is to know about shadows and framing and perspective and vanishing points. But none of it matters. None of that is what art is really about. Any two-bit computer can replicate the colors present in a scene. It’s like my mother said, what’s special in art is not the technique. It’s the ideas, the originality, the vision…and I don’t have any of that.”

  On Athena’s face, her sadness began to yield to a look of simmering resentment. “When I see an object, I don’t see it for what it could be, like a real artist. I don’t see the potential within it. I just see it for what it is. When I see a sky, that's all I see: the sky. All I do is create copies — empty, worthless copies. There’s nothing special about them. And there’s nothing special about me. I’m just another nobody, walking the earth, filling in the background for more brilliant people’s lives. And that’s all I’ll ever be.”

  “You’re wrong, A,” corrected Nomi. “Just because you can’t see the beauty within your work, doesn’t mean that it’s not there. I love your paintings. I’ve always loved your paintings. You see colors that I didn’t even think to look for.”

  For her part, Mirza said nothing. Her eyes remained closed. Eventually, she gasped, “Thank you, Athena.” Her face glowed with genuine appreciation. “Thank you so much for sharing something so painful and true and real.” Her eyes reopened. “You have fulfilled your end of the bargain, and now I will fulfill mine. What is it that you require?”

  Suddenly looking much older than her nineteen years, Athena turned to Mirza. “We need a heli-car that can take us into the Greeley exclusion zone. And,” she held up two fingers, “a pair of heavy-lead radiation suits. There’s a damaged library out there that’s been hiding a secret from the world for over half a century.”

  Mirza tilted back her head and flared her nostrils. “Hmmm,” she hummed, while stroking a finger against her chin. “I’ve usually found it the case, Athena, that most things hidden that long are better left buried…” Her gaze appeared sharp enough to cut glass. “Nevertheless, I will give you what you need.”

  With the raising of her arm, Mirza summoned Aya into the grand room. The assistant came running. She stopped suddenly to Mirza’s left, awaiting her mistress’ next command.

  “My heli-car,” explained Mirza, “is parked in a subterranean garage on the outskirts of the city. I’ll authorize it to travel to, and to enter, the Greeley exclusion zone. Additionally, it will respond to your directional commands for twenty-four hours. That should be more than enough time. The radiation suits I cannot print here. However, I own a factory, just an hour outside of the city, which has the technology to stitch with heavy-lead thread. Give your measurements to Aya, and she will take care of the rest.”

  Athena walked over to Mirza. “Thank you,” she said.

  Dutifully, Aya measured each girl in turn. She completed preparations by passing the requisite information along to Mirza’s factory. Finally, she flicked the location of Mirza’s heli-car onto Athena and Nomi’s displays. Armed with all they needed, the pair of girls headed for the exit.

  “Be careful ladies,” Mirza called
out just as her guests were about to leave. “Never let down your guard out there. The male genome brings death to everything it touches.”

  Athena stopped in her tracks. She turned around and opened her mouth. Except, no words came out.

  Only an hour later, on the outskirts of the city, Mirza’s heli-car rose from its subterranean garage. Side by side, Athena and Nomi sat together in its two front-facing seats. With a view to the west, they kept their eyes glued on the horizon — never once looking back to notice the small, metallic disc that tracked them stealthily from behind.

  The Y-Fever

  From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

  “Y-Fever,” “The Fever,” and “H2N5,” all redirect to here

  ▲ Overview:

  The Y-Fever (influenza strain H2N5) was a genetically-engineered weapon of biological warfare, constructed in secret by one or more nations in the late 2040’s. Despite major investigatory attempts, exact details of the fever’s creation and proliferation are still unknown to this day. Historians do generally agree, however, that beginning in or around 2049, the virus was deployed outside the lab for the first time. Released as a non-transmissible agent, the virus was meant to kill select members of the multiple terrorist cells that rose up in opposition to the massive flood of refugees created by climate change and rising sea levels.

  In late 2049, or perhaps early 2050, the disease accidentally mutated into an airborne pathogen, capable of infecting anyone it came into contact with. Wide-spread lethality ensued. By 2051, the fever had killed billions, including all the men and trans-men on earth.

  Pathologists disagree to this day on why some women were killed by the virus, while the vast majority survived.

  ▼ Methods for Causing Death

  ▼ An Illustrated Timeline

  ▼ Project Lazarus Controversy

  ▼ Further Reading

  ▼ Recent Recordings

  Last modified by VaVaRoll17 on 24 January 2099

  June 12, 2099

  43

  In the middle of the vast North-American expanse, fields of wheat stretched limitlessly in every direction. For hours, as the heli-car zoomed along, Athena stared intently out the window. Beside her, Nomi squirmed in place, tinkering with an experimental new massage.

  “I’m sorry,” Athena finally said, breaking the silence.

  Nomi rolled her eyes and smiled. “Me too.”

  In the car, a motorized hum could be heard as Athena’s contoured seat reformed itself into a new shape.

  “I think there’s something wrong with me, Nomes. I think I’m a lonely heart.”

  Nomi laughed out loud. “Oh yeah? What was your first hint? Was it the charcoal drawings of naked men, hidden in the table in your bedroom?”

  “What?” Athena gasped. “You know about those?”

  “C’mon, A. You’re my best friend. Of course I do.” Nomi sighed. “You’ve been a lonely heart since, like, the 6th grade. Honestly, this whole time, I’ve just been waiting for you to figure it out.”

  “But then, how…how could you still love me so much when you knew I was like this?”

  “Babe, the heart wants what it wants. It’s not my place to figure it out. You drive me wild. That’s enough for me. And, besides, you’re the one I want to tell everything to at the end of the day.” Nomi rubbed her damp hands onto her dry pant legs. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you. Maybe you never will. But I just don’t care.”

  Without a single thought to the library; or the genome; or men; or the confusing, tempestuous feelings of adolescence, Athena leaned across the seat and kissed Nomi’s soft lips. Simultaneously, the first tips of white mountaintops began to appear in the distance.

  Beware!

  Radiation affected area:

  Greeley Exclusion zone,

  restricted territory

  Unauthorized entry

  BANNED

  Trespassers will incur administrative penalty and criminal responsibility pertinent to the laws of the North American Union

  June 12, 2099

  44

  With the sun at its apex in the sky, Mirza’s private heli-car hovered to a stop on the overgrown field in front of Norlin Library. Except for it being daytime, everything looked exactly as it it had in Athena’s dream. The library wore its scars of aging in all the same places. Its vines twirled in all the same directions.

  Above the entryway, though, carved into stone, hid one detail which Athena had missed. In large letters, it read:

  Who knows only his own generation remains always a child

  The two girls climbed out of the car with some difficulty due to the extra weight of their lead-lined suits.

  “I literally cannot wait to take this thing off,” Nomi complained. “I feel like I’m a hundred kilos.” She waddled like a duck, unable to bring her knees all the way up in a normal walking motion. “Just imagine,” she joked, while rushing to catch up with Athena, “how nice a hot dip in the lake is going to feel after this.”

  Athena’s gait appeared less encumbered. So close to her objective, her mind focused only on the task at hand. Her legs powered forward, relentlessly seeking the truth in the library that would explain everything. Without any wildlife around, the scene felt quiet and eerily still as they approached the six-columned entrance.

  In the entryway, a triangle of vines blocked their ingress. Nomi tugged gently at the green chords, but they held firm. “We’ll probably need to find another way in,” she said.

  “No,” came Athena’s reply, direct and clear. With a firm hand, she yanked down forcefully on the vines. Just as she had dreamt that they would, they tore neatly away, falling to the ground.

  Within the library, as before, mushrooms and mildew dominated the scene.

  “Get a load of this place,” said Nomi, her head tilted upward to stare at the fractured ceiling. Spores floated through the sunlight that peered in through the cracks. “Why don’t I start by searching that corner over there?” she suggested, pointing to her right. “And you can search over there.” She pointed to her left. “And we’ll meet in the middle?”

  Ignoring Nomi’s suggestion entirely, Athena marched purposefully toward the far wall to a stairway which led down to the basement. Her gait showed no signs of uncertainty nor hesitation. "It's this way," she said.

  Underground, the dank, musty smells intensified. Athena slowed to maneuver around the maze-like stacks of toppled shelving and books. Behind her, Nomi followed closely, carefully guiding her feet to step on the exact same spots where Athena had previously tread.

  On the far wall of the basement, among a less water-logged section of books, —exactly where it was supposed to be, exactly where it had always been — Athena found her prize. From afar, the manuscript looked like any other book there, but up close, it had an orangish-brown color to it and a hard walnut-shell binding. She grabbed the book from its shelf, and felt its solid weight in her hands. The apparition had been brought to life.

  For a whole thirty seconds, she paused to breathe.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  She spread apart the book’s pages.

  Inside, it turned out, was a collection of printed newspaper articles from 2047 and 2048. Hundreds of them, wrung together into a shared binder. Athena began carefully flipping through the pages.

  Just over her right shoulder stood Nomi, trembling with a mix of excitement and fear. “Do you know what we're looking for?” Nomi asked. “How are we even supposed to search through a book that’s not online?”

  Athena flipped all the way to the end and was surprised to find an alphabetized glossary. She poured over the letters in turn: A, B, C, D. She felt herself getting closer. E, F…

  And then, there it was, right where it was supposed to be:

  Original Sin Is Real, p. 84

  — editorial by Grace Antares

  Athena thumbed her way to the eighty-fourth page, careful not
to damage the fragile relic. Each girl grabbed half of the book in one hand. Together they travelled back to 2047.

  Being the faster reader of the two, Nomi finished first. At the close of the final sentence, she blurted out, “Oh my God.”

  Seconds later, Athena, too, gasped in disbelief. “This can’t be…” She began to cough, uncontrollably. Between convulsive fits, she sputtered: “She, she…she couldn’t have.”

  Mountain Chronicle

  Opinions Page

  Published February 22nd, 2047

  Original Sin is Real

  editorial by Grace Antares

  When I was a girl, my mother used to drag me with her to church every single weekend. Mostly, the Sunday lessons struck me as harmless nonsense. All life on earth was created in only six days, just five thousand years ago? Right. Sure it was.

  There was one idea, though, which stuck with me: the concept of original sin. That idea used to keep me up at night — far more than the threat of an afterlife in hell ever did. Original sin kept me awake because it seemed to me to be just about the cruelest idea imaginable. How could anyone, with love in his heart, look at a helpless newborn child and see only flaws and culpability? How could a baby’s obvious innocence go so blatantly overlooked?

  There was just one problem with my youthful indignation, however. Namely, that original sin turns out to not be so misguided after all. The truth I’ve discovered in my life is that original sin is real.

  My name is Dr. Grace Antares. I am a scientist and the creator of a little-known technology called ‘Happiness Profiling.’ When I first developed my new technology, my only goal was to make the world a better place. I wanted everyone to reap the benefits of our society’s modern advancements. I wanted to give the gift of true self-knowledge to every man, woman, and child on earth.