Eve of Man

by Giovanna Fletcher

  I pick up the photograph from the table and walk through the crowd to where the projector sits. I slip the photo of our first kiss off the light plate and replace it with this photo.

  The projected tree fills the center of the room, and the men step back out of its light.

  “I’m leading a rescue mission for Ernie Warren, here.” I point to the brick building sitting in the tree’s shade. There are murmurs and whispers from every Freever in the room as they stare at the photograph before them. I glimpse Helena’s long gray hair and see her still batting off the whisperers around her, asking her opinion. She tilts her head, waiting to hear more from me.

  “And what makes you think this is the place?” calls a thin voice from the back. “Of all the hundreds of thousands of locations where he could be, of all the possible photographs on the table, you just happen across the one photo of his whereabouts?”

  The rabble immediately erupt, firing more questions in my direction. Frost remains a silent observer of the chaos.

  “Listen.” I calm them with my hands, but it’s not enough to silence them. I step up onto a bench at the table, raising myself so I can see the whole room and they can see me. “Listen to me. You’ve been searching for years, with no luck. Yes, I know it sounds hard to believe that I would walk in here and pick up this photo, but it’s even crazier for me to find it here.” The room of damp people quiets as they pause for a moment to listen. “Or maybe it’s not crazy. Maybe it’s meant to be. Maybe I was meant to be here, to find this photograph, because I know one thing for sure: there isn’t anyone else in the world who would know that this is the place. Not anyone on your side anyway. You’ve only known me a short time, but you’re just going to have to trust me. It’s too important for you not to. I’ve spent nearly my entire life up there, inside that Tower, working to keep their lie alive. Staring into Eve’s eyes, delivering their messages, getting Eve to cooperate with their demands, and she would do it for me every time. Why?” I hold up the photo of our kiss. “Because Eve trusts me, more than she trusts anyone else, and that’s why you should too. That’s why you have to, for Eve.”

  I have the room’s attention. Helena raises her eyebrows, impressed, I think, with my speech.

  “This is where Eve’s father is. I know it. I’ve looked at this photo more than any other image and only just realized what it is.”

  “What are you going to do with him when you find him?” asks Chubs.

  “Are you out of your mind? He’s not going to be there. He’s dead,” calls one of the older men of the group, starting a series of exchanges about my spontaneous plan to lead them on a search for Eve’s long-lost father.

  “What if he’s lying? What if he is just another EPO spy?” cries another of the more mature men.

  “What if he isn’t?” Helena says, her raspy voice demanding that people listen. “What if he’s right?”

  The heads in the room turn to her, but her powerful gaze is fixed on me. “This kid could be everything we’ve ever wanted.”

  There is a silence as they absorb her words.

  “If we’re ever going to have a shot at finding him, surely it’s with Bram,” Saunders adds clumsily.

  “How can we trust him? What if he’s just luring us into a trap?”

  The noise erupts again, reaching an unbearable volume. Frost stands up, his arms raised. Silence falls over the room and I realize he owns these people. It’s not them I need to convince; it’s him.

  He turns to me and looks me in the eye, and I can see the cogs of his mind working.

  “Look,” I say to him, “I want to get Eve out of that place as much as all of you do, but I’ve got to know the truth, and Ernie is the key. I know it. If he’s still alive, this is where we can find him.”

  “Okay, Bram,” says Frost.

  Silence. Stunned silence.

  “Okay?” I reply.

  “Let’s do this your way. You call the shots. You wanna lead this bunch, they’re all yours.”

  The room twitches silently. I can feel the discomfort his decision causes. “For real?” I ask.

  “For Eve,” he replies. I nod in agreement and reach out to shake his hand.

  “For Eve!” the room shouts in unison, some voices more reluctantly than others.

  Frost takes a seat and ties his thick dreadlocks behind his head. “So, Bram, what’s the plan?”

  * * *

  —

  The pods are loaded with supplies, mainly weapons. We leave through the broken glass of Ben as weak sunlight turns the pollution clouds from thick purple to heavy gray.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” Saunders asks, stepping into the pod I’m waiting in.

  “No,” I say honestly. “But if there’s a chance I’m right, we’ve got to take it, yes?” Before he has a chance to reply, Frost steps into the pod behind us.

  “Ready when you are, Captain,” he says. He pulls the hood of his deep green waterproof jacket over his matted locks and awaits my orders.

  We’ve planned for this as best we can. It was Helena who realized it might be a sanctuary, meaning that it’s kept well hidden. Protected. But that information at least narrowed the search. If Eve’s father is there, it’s a clever move from the EPO, hiding a man in a place no men are allowed to go to. Smart. The kind of thing my father would have thought of.

  Whether this place is still standing is another question. The most recent charts of that area are all BE, pre-flood. It could be in ruins now, but my gut says differently. All that’s left is to go and find out, to see if I’m right or if I’m leading Frost’s rebels on a wild-goose chase.

  “I know that not all of you are comfortable with this mission, but I thank you for your commitment to me,” I say, sounding far too rehearsed.

  “It’s Eve we’re committed to, dumbass,” says a young blond Freever from the second of the three pods we’re taking out. I see Chubs elbow him in the ribs to shut him up.

  “He’s right. It’s Eve we’re all committed to. Let’s go and find her father.” I nod at Saunders and he eases the throttle forward. We cruise out onto the open river, where I see the city alive for the first time.

  I can’t believe how busy it is. So different from the night I arrived. There are large boats, almost ships, moored to the rooftops of sunken buildings. Men walking along gangplanks suspended hundreds of feet over the water, bridging the gap between building and boat.

  “Pretty amazing how fast they built these,” Saunders says, noticing my eyes gazing up at Central.

  I’d forgotten what this place was like. Vast structures attached to the old buildings, like sitting on the shoulders of a drowning man, soaring toward the sky. Square buildings that tower over the rivers flowing between them. These new cloudscrapers weren’t designed to look nice, just to withstand the storms and provide homes so life could go on.

  And life did go on, surprisingly normally, considering what happened. I take in the sights and smells all around as we sail north, over Regent’s Lake. Men out here look happy. I see men chatting, kissing; men drinking coffee simulants, reading the news on their holo-players on their way to work as they tread the weather-beaten pathways of this place.

  No women, of course: it’s not safe enough for the few who remain to leave the female-only communities. I guess the women of the Deep are living outside the EPO law. Another reason to stay hidden.

  “Everything sits about ten feet above the current waterline, allowing for the flood level to rise, which it will,” Saunders tells me, shaking his head. “They might have stopped dropping bombs, but the oceans didn’t stop rising.”

  Our pod is rocked by the wake of a larger ship cruising past us in the opposite direction.

  “I’d keep your head low if I were you, kid,” Frost radios over the intercom from his pod, and as the ship passes us I see why. On the side of
its black hull the words Cold Storage are printed in large white letters. A blue light flashes on top, signaling other boats to clear out of its way. Armed guards pace the top deck, wearing the EPO’s security uniform under the same black body armor as Ketch’s men.

  “Deliveries for the Tower?” I ask, and Saunders nods. A cold vapor pours from the back, like a heavy steam that sits on the surface of the water. I watch the huge ship sail in the direction of my old home and wonder how many women it’s carrying, all headed toward their prestigious place in the depths of the Tower, beside my mother.

  I instinctively reach for the silver cross around my neck.

  As the EPO ship disappears between buildings, I follow the farthest structure upward. I strain my neck and see the enormous realiTV screens strapped to the sides, my father’s tech. I can’t escape him: it’s like he’s looking down on me wherever I go.

  “They used to pump out constant updates on Eve,” Frost’s deep voice says over the intercom. “Everyone watched—we’d all gather out here for the latest news, to see how the savior was getting on, what she was doing from one day to the next. It gave everyone hope. Made us remember what we were living for. That we had a planet to protect for our kids.”

  As we sail out over the open stretch of water I look back at the city skyline, every building covered from top to bottom with screens. “Who wouldn’t want a glimpse of the girl who was going to save humanity from extinction?” Frost says.

  “I knew they showed people what was happening, but not that it was like this,” I say. “It’s like some reality show.”

  “Are you kidding? Your girlfriend was the biggest realiTV star on the planet once,” Saunders jokes.

  “Once?” I ask.

  “Yeah, until they decided we weren’t important anymore, that it was better keeping secret what goes on up there,” Frost explains. “They shut down the live streams from the Dome, just gave us momentary glimpses of Eve when it suited them. Mostly doctored footage and faked images. We all knew they weren’t real from the moment they started.”

  Suddenly the screens flicker to life. Three huge letters illuminate the fine mist that hangs in the air like fog: EoM.

  “EoM?” I ask.

  “Eve of Man,” Saunders explains. “That’s what they’ve branded her. They want us to think she’s our Eve.”

  “We just get this propaganda shit now, that’s all. Whatever the EPO want us to see, whatever they think is going to keep us all in line,” Frost tells me from his pod, sailing along to my left. “It’s about keeping the powerful, powerful; and the rest of us, well, who cares? Eve’s just their poster girl. We’d pull the screens down if they weren’t protected.”

  “Protected?” I ask.

  “Yeah. They’re all solar panels. Those screens feed us lies and give us energy. They power the whole city. Can’t live without ’em, so we gotta put up with this crap,” Saunders says.

  “Pretty clever.” It would have been another of my father’s genius ideas. It’s got him written all over it.

  “Here we go,” says Saunders, pointing to the video that begins to play across the surface of every building around us.

  Eve picks flowers in her garden inside the Dome. Cut to Eve exercising, sweat dripping from her chin. Then she gracefully pliés at the barre in her ballet shoes. Now she’s drinking green juice.

  A deep voiceover booms out, echoing across the lake.

  “Eve is working hard, preparing for the future, for your future. She is your savior. She is Eve of Man.”

  Eve stands on the Drop alone, looking out at the sunset.

  “This is all old footage,” I tell Saunders.

  “Yeah, we know,” he says. “They recut these things all the time, flip the images around, change the camera angles, anything to make it seem new and fresh. We rarely get any current glimpses of her.”

  The three large letters, EoM, glare out at us one last time before the screen fades to black.

  I turn away and look ahead to where the open stretch of water narrows. I hear that deep voice echo in my mind and can’t help but wonder if I’m prepared for the future. I guess I’m about to find out.

  47

  EVE

  “She’s staying with me,” I say firmly as I enter the clinical examination room with Mother Kadi at my side. My chaperoning Mother is usually sent away, told she isn’t needed within these walls, but today Mother Kadi is needed. By me. I need her comfort. Her kindness. Her compassion. Her presence.

  Vivian’s eyes dart between us as though she’s trying to work out if I’m up to something, but she seems to dismiss the idea with an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Glad you’re feeling up to speaking, Eve.” She smirks. “I see you’ve been eating too. Good, good.”

  Ignoring her jibes, I stand by the metal chair in the corner of the room, stripping off my clothes. Then Mother Kadi helps me into the garment laid out for me, a blue hospital gown.

  I thought about saying something before this process took place. I debated whether or not to go to Vivian and tell her I’d changed my mind and didn’t want it to happen in this way, but I know that would give her the upper hand and an inkling of what’s going on in my head. I’d have to give reasons, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to tell her that I’m doubtful of what they’ve given me as a reality. I have to be sure of the truth first.

  It’s the same reason I’ve not spoken to her about Bram and Holly. Anyway, I’m not sure how much it matters now that he’s gone. She wouldn’t let him be my Potential. I’m certain that if I asked she’d refuse and mock me because I’ve fallen for him. She’d resort to belittling our love as a childish crush. I know what we have is far more than that. I’d have loved Bram and Holly regardless of their form. Part of me would be happy to keep things as they have been, with us out on the Drop forevermore; that’s how much she—he—has affected me. But I know that could never happen.

  I climb onto the table next to Dr. Rankin, who’s already standing there with the rod in her latex-gloved hand, eager to get to work. I take a breath to calm my insides as they tense at the sight. This will be even more unpleasant if I don’t relax my muscles. I shuffle to get myself comfortable, the synthetic fabric rustling underneath me.

  “Legs up,” she instructs, not looking at my face, her focus purely on the task ahead as she lowers my knees into the usual position.

  I close my eyes as she stands between my legs and lifts the material protecting my modesty, starting the examination. The coldness of the rod as it enters makes my brain shudder. When she angles it in different directions and tugs at my insides, I want to vomit. I clench my jaw to stop the bile from rising.

  “We’ve lost one,” Dr. Rankin murmurs a few moments later, holding the stick in one position, then firmly guiding it in another.

  “What?” Vivian marches over to the screen. I’m not sure whether she’s angry with me for having lost it or Dr. Rankin for failing to collect it.

  “We still have the other,” Dr. Rankin says, with a little more joy in her voice than usual. “Although if we’d left it any later, we’d have lost that one too. I said for her to come in every day.”

  “We had a situation and her safety was more important,” Vivian states, not bothering to look away from the screen in front of her as she greedily eyes my one egg that’s ripe and ready for the picking.

  Dr. Rankin doesn’t respond, but I hear the clanking of equipment next to me, letting me know she’s about to go on to the next stage.

  “Is this how it used to work?” I ask suddenly, to no one in particular.

  “Pardon?” asks Dr. Rankin, after a brief pause.

  “For women before me?”

  A stillness settles over the room. I can only imagine they’re wondering how to respond. I used to ask a barrage of inappropriate questions when I was younger, not knowing they were so. Then I asked questi
ons because I knew they were inappropriate. But now? Now I just want to know what I’m saving by bringing more life into the world.

  “The procedure was similar,” replies Dr. Rankin, her tone indifferent.

  “So you all know what it feels like to be sitting here. To be laid bare and exposed. To feel like you’re nothing more than a piece of meat,” I say, waiting to be stopped as I look at them all. I’m so used to Vivian shooting me down it’s become a habit to push her until I’m reprimanded. I’m surprised she hasn’t scolded me on this occasion, although as Dr. Rankin is still going about her business, I doubt Vivian cares too much about what comes out of my mouth. She’s not even looking at me.

  “I’ve experienced this many times. I know what you’re going through,” Mother Kadi replies tenderly, her hands wiping down the sides of her black dress, highlighting the curve of her hips. “But it’ll be over soon, Eve.”

  “How many times?” I ask, my tone more forceful and direct with her than usual.

  “I…” She struggles, looking from me to Vivian.

  “How many times did they put your legs in stirrups and strip you of your dignity?” I ask.

  “You asked for it to be done in this way, Eve,” Vivian cuts in, her voice calm, as though she’s talking to a child. “Koa is still here if you’d like me to bring him in. I’m sure he’d enjoy that very much.”

  “Once you were pregnant, when you birthed your boys,” I continue to Mother Kadi, ignoring Vivian, “how long did they wait for you to recover before you were forced back onto a table like this?”

  Mother Kadi’s eyes widen imploringly, begging me to stop.

  I want to carry on, but a burning sensation from my lower body makes me yelp in pain.

  I stop.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I feel my chest deflate as a single tear rolls down my cheek. This is no different from what I usually experience. It’s no more painful. It’s nothing new. But it is. Because I know that if this is successful, it’s just the start. It’s not a case of fertilizing my egg and leaving me with a child to bring up. It’s going to be a never-ending cycle. It’ll be repeated until I’m no longer of use to them.