by Nirina Stone
She tells me she’s due “any day now.” I’m getting accustomed to seeing her all swollen, without panicking every few minutes that something is wrong.
We stopped walking around the forest a few weeks ago, though. The trek proves too challenging for her sore legs.
“That sounds pretty quick.” I count backwards and realize I was taken from Prospo City nearly a year ago.
“I know,” she says, sounding as surprised as I do. “I believed what they said right away since everything I’d heard from home was such an outrageous lie.” She adjusts herself so the pillows are tucked further under her belly. “It felt nice to belong to a people that wanted to feed me and take care of me, just so that I could make some babies and be a part of them, you know?” she asks, expecting me to say yes.
But no, I really don’t know. I don’t understand her motivation at all. Is it because they are kind? Because of the food? Because I’m certainly not ready to go and request Ivy Heff and make babies, in return for them offering me delicious food and hot chocolate. Is that their expectation of me? I can feel a deep frown on my face, and Knox studies my face for a moment.
“You don’t have to make babies, you know,” she finally says. “There are plenty of females here who don’t.” I soothe out my forehead and sit back. “They could probably use your knowledge in robotics,” she says, doubt in her voice. “I mean, they always need help in various parts of the city. It’s really a matter of finding something you enjoy doing, that they need.”
I’m not convinced she really believes that. Eric hasn’t spoken once about my becoming a Surrogate, so I wonder, yet again, why I’m here.
“Maybe I can help in the library,” I mutter, knowing there’s not likely anything there for me to do either. After all, there are no incinerators in Soren City, and there are no prison inmates that need books delivered daily. There are plenty of bots in the library capable of sorting through the various books without my help. So what would I do there? Stare at the ceiling?
I’m frowning again, when I realize Knox’s smile has turned into a grimace. Does she believe I’m completely hopeless, then?
“Uh oh,” she says. Her hand moves from her belly to her behind. Did she soil herself? “Romy,” she says, and looks back at me. I stand, realizing something’s up, and it has nothing to do with my potential future here in Soren City. “You will need to call someone,” she says.
I turn to look for something, anything, with which I can call someone. I turn back to her, my palms up to the ceiling. “Okay, Knox. How?”
“Oh right!” she says laughing. “Touch your mirror.” She huffs a strange rhythmic puffing sound. “Fifteen or so inches from the bottom.”
I swivel around and bend towards the bottom of the mirror. There is nothing there. No button, no light. I reach and touch my index finger obediently on the specific spot she mentions, and my mirror transforms itself.
How did they do that? There is a screen embedded right in it, but naked to the human eye. That’s new. The silver surface and reflection turns black for a moment, and then I’m looking into the face of another Soren I recognize as Emma Parks.
I’m in communications, her voice echoes back, from the day we met. I couldn’t really understand what it meant then, but now, her face is staring up at me through the screen.
“Romy,” she greets, with a quick nod of her head.
“Knox,” I say, “Knox is in my room and she needs a Doctor, Emma.” Then I turn and see Knox’s back arch while she keeps up the puffing and loud breathing noise, and I turn around to face Emma. “I think the baby’s coming now,” I say, my voice louder.
Emma angles herself to look behind me and says a quick, “Hang on tight.” Then the screen grows black, and I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are wide, pupils dilated, my face flushed.
I don’t know what to do, so I walk swiftly to the shower room to wet a small towel and place it on her forehead. I know it’s useless, but she thanks me anyway.
Knox is still doing her loud breathing and huffing when three other Sorens enter my room and carry her out. She’s waving at me and huffing a “See you soon!” and then the door is shut closed.
I want to lie down but given that the middle of the bed is soaked, I sit heavily on the chair and hyperventilate again. My breathing sounds almost identical to Knox’s heavy huffing exercises. I don’t even notice when Eric slips in my room.
He pulls the blankets and sheets off my bed, and shoves them into the laundry chute in the wall.
Then he sits down on the edge of the bed and, holding my shaking hands in his, leans in to look into my eyes. I look at the dark blue lines surrounding his irises and try to concentrate on them until my breathing steadies.
Eric’s lanky legs are stretched out to either side of me, and I know he can’t possibly be comfortable.
He says, “Knox is fine. She will be fine. She’s in labour, so you were right to call Comms. The babies are coming now.”
Knox is fine, I think. She’s fine and the babies are fine. Why did I panic? She is healthy, she sees the doctors often. She’s fine. What is wrong with me?
Eric keeps his eyes on mine until my breathing is normal, and he sits up a little bit taller on the bed. “Are you okay?” he finally says.
“Yes,” I reply, breathing slowly. “I panicked—a bit.”
He smiles at me kindly. “No—you don’t say?” I guess he can mock me. To say that I overreacted is an understatement. They warned me something like that might happen, given how often Knox was visiting me.
There was really nothing to prepare me for the scare of seeing a pregnant woman arch and huff on my bed, and that was only the beginning. Now, she’s about to go and have two more human beings come out of her. I decide I never want to be in a similar situation. Not that I doubted it before.
Eric stays still and keeps his eyes on me. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, “and it will be a shock.”
Oh good. Just what I need right this moment. Another shock. I raise one eyebrow at him and he smiles back.
“I know, the timing’s not ideal, but this might be a more positive experience for you.” Before he says any more, he stands up and turns my chair to face the mirror. I watch his reflection while he bends over my shoulder to press the same spot on the mirror I touched, not a half hour before.
What exactly does communications have to do with the new shock I’m about to have? Emma’s face pops up. “Romy. Strohm,” she says with a nod.
Eric asks, “Are we ready?”
“Yes,” Emma says, “one second.”
Then the screen is black for a split second, before I stare into small hazel eyes with a slight devilish glint in them. They look tired, older. The face is thinner, with some new lines around the eyes and heart-shaped mouth. It is framed with shoulder-length wispy hair that has unfamiliar white strands throughout.
She smiles and says, “Romy.”
“Mother,” I say, tears already rolling down my cheeks.
Legacy
I rarely leave my room now, intent on speaking to Mother as often as I can, but Eric assigns me specific screen times so that I continue walking through the forest, and visiting Knox in her unit.
The last thing I want is to walk around aimlessly in circles—even with Eric by my side—or watch Knox as she feeds two babies while trying to keep her first child still for a few minutes. But I don’t argue for long. I’m more worried he will take away any time I have at all, so I give in to his conditions.
Mother is a Soren. I can’t get over that undeniable fact. She was born a Soren and has always been a Soren, but has been their spy this entire time. She’s been living in C-City—as she calls it—and keeping tabs on the Prospo Family she worked for, reporting her findings to the Sorens surreptitiously over years.
The same year I entered Azure, she was assigned to infiltrate Mars, to collect information about the colony, their plans, and the Prospo there. Then, two years later, she was instruct
ed to destroy the entire colony by any means necessary, including through her own death, if required.
“They intercepted me before I could complete my assignment,” she says. She reaches for a cup of joe to take a sip before continuing.
I take the opportunity to sip my hot chocolate. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had joe—it was likely around the time I first discovered chocolate.
I picture Mother working on Mars, befriending and meeting the researchers on-site, then turning on them after two years in. How did she manage to maintain a lie like that for so long?
“They threw me into a cell,” she says, “until my fellow Sorens broke me out, two weeks ago.”
I can’t imagine Mother in Azure. She does not handle being told what to do very well. Not when she’s not so inclined. But she wasn’t in Azure. She was deemed Too Dangerous for killing some Prospo before the rest of them stopped her. So she was sent to another prison, close to the Equator, where all the Too Dangerous are normally locked up.
When I ask her why Father—who was also deemed Too Dangerous—was in Azure, she takes a deep breath, then lets out a loud sigh.
“Your father was a Prospo.” She leans away while I absorb her words and try to remember every conversation I’ve ever had with Father. How can that be? How can he possibly be a Prospo? Nothing about Father fits with everything I’ve learnt about the Prospo. He’s too intelligent, for one thing. Too kind. Too unselfish. Too hardworking and hands-on. Far too perfect to be a mere Prospo.
“His name was Brian Hennessy,” she explains. “Brian and I met when we were very young. I was assigned to his family for a short time as a personal groomer. I didn’t expect to fall in love with him, but I did. Unreservedly.”
My parents loved one another. That was never a doubt in my mind. Most Citizen families are close anyway, but the two of them often caused titters around our community with their constant public displays of love towards each other and towards me.
Now I realize everything else that I knew growing up was a spectacular lie. I try to ignore the anger rising in my chest. That the Prospo have lied to Citizens all this time is one thing. It’s something I’m still coming to terms with. But—my parents’ lies about, well, everything I know. I’ll have to address that, but I need to focus. One thing at a time.
“Why, Mother?” I ask, not for the first time. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why did you both encourage me to enter Azure?”
When I think about what my life could have been, being brought up as a Soren instead of a Citizen, avoiding the whole requirement of going to Azure, the auction block, everything, I want to yell at her. Instead, I swallow my anger. There’s time for that later, so I tell myself.
“There’s a lot about our lives I can’t share with you yet, Romy,” she replies. “But all you need to know now is that we did everything we did to protect you. To protect our family. Father and I both did everything we had to. Believe it or not, Azure was the safest place for you.”
I fight pictures of the incinerator and Margo’s slits for eyes. My life there wasn’t bad, no worse anyway, than my life as a hungry Citizen. At least Father was there—on the other side of the wall. And yet—
“I’m confused,” I admit. “What happened, Mother? To have Father end up in Azure?”
“I suppose it’s time I told you,” Mother says softly. “The last thing I expected when they got me out of the Equator Prison was you. When your father and I fell in love, we knew we really only had one choice to make, to stay together,” she says. “So we fled P-City. I can tell you all about those times—and I will. But I think you’re more interested in what happened at the end.”
She’s right. I’m more curious about what Father did to end up at Azure. Why was he deemed Too Dangerous so he would never be bid at auction, yet avoided being sent to the Equator.
“Before we ran,” she explains, “we found out the best news. I was—” she pauses, looking down. I’m still surprised with how small she looks. Mother was always petite, but she looks particularly vulnerable right now. “I was pregnant, Romy.” She looks up at me, tears pooling in her eyes. “I was pregnant with you.”
I imagine what Mother looked like, belly swollen in front of her like Knox was, only days ago. The image refuses to stay in my mind—it makes my stomach clench. I swallow a large lump in my throat.
She eyes me. “Are you okay, Romy? Do you want to continue talking tomorrow?”
“No Mother,” I reply quickly. All my life, my eyes have been under blinders. This is my chance to unlearn the lies. To finally understand where I fit in my world. It didn’t really matter before.
“Your father was overjoyed.” She looks up at the ceiling with a smile. “I’ve never seen him so happy before or since. I knew right away, right after we found out, that he would be an incredible father. And he was—he is,” she amends. “It was a surprise to him at first.” Her tone is more somber now. “He had no idea most of us are fertile. I had to break it to him that he’d been living a lie this entire time. That his family, his people were all controlling the populace with chems in the air and fear-based non-truths!” Her voice is angry now, but she coughs and composes herself. I can only imagine Father’s reaction to something that life-changing. Was he as calm as I’d picture?
“His father, Brian Senior,” she says, “attacked me. Here I was, some nothing Citizen employed by his family, newly pregnant with his Prospo son’s baby. He wasn’t appreciative,” she chuckles.
I sit up straight and watch her carefully. She obviously survived the attack. It sounds like there is so much more to the story and she is heavily editing, but I don’t really want to hear the details of whatever it is she’s not sharing.
“Your father came to my defense,” she says, “and Brian Senior was killed in the confrontation. So we ran, sooner than we intended.”
I know Father walked into Azure about seven years before I did and wonder why he elected to give himself up, then. When I ask, Mother says, “I’m not sure. He knew what he did was right, but I think he felt guilty about his father. I think he felt it was time.” Father always had a strong moral compass, a sense of justice, of fairness.
“When we ran,” Mother says, “we found ourselves a good small spot of land in C-City, and had you and never looked back.” She beams at me with a wide smile on her face.
I love talking to Mother. Our daily chats are the highlight of my days and, no matter how much her stories shatter my entire world, I want her to tell me more.
But she’s more interested in my new life among the Sorens. When I tell her about Knox, Sanaa, the library, she says it’s time for me to get more involved, to put my training to good use. “Using it where? For what, Mother?” I ask.
“For the future of course,” she winks. “You’re a Soren now.”
The plan was to have me with the Sorens sooner, she says. The plan was that I’d be part of the community right away. But Father was against it—he didn’t understand or didn’t trust them. He insisted on my going to Azure, where he could keep an eye on me—though through a wall. Where I’d be closer to him, be able to gain certification and then live a decent life in Prospo City.
Then Mother complains she’s tired, and we’ll continue our chats the next day. “There’s time,” she says. “Remember, we still always have tomorrow.”
But I already thought I lost her on Mars, and I haven’t heard from Father in months. I’m too afraid to let her sign off. Sometimes there is no “tomorrow.”
She assures me she’s “perfectly safe,” lodged on another floating Soren City somewhere in the North Atlantic. My Geography is shaky but I know it’s really far away from where I am now, in the South Pacific. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she promises, before signing off. I’m terrified. She has no clue where Father is either. I look at the black screen turn into the reflective metal look of my mirror, and I breathe. I try to breathe. It proves difficult.
Much later, Eric comes to visit me. I haven’t seen hi
m in a few days, so I’m actually happy he’s in my room. I momentarily wonder what has him so busy that he is no longer my daily companion, but wipe the thought from my head. I remind myself he doesn’t belong to me. I try not to ask him questions about what he does during the day—it only makes him shut down and say, “I can’t share that information with a Citizen.”
The word has taken on a negative aspect for me. Here I was, convinced the Prospo are naive, clueless dolts in the sky, unaware of life outside their shimmery glass walls. Yet, Citizens have a similar reputation here amongst the Sorens. It’s confronting and rather humbling. I’m yet another naive Citizen.
“Is your mother settling in well?” Eric asks, although I have a feeling he knows the answer to that better than I do.
“I think so.” I frown and look at the mirror. “She’s tired, but otherwise, she’s in good spirits.”
His eyes dart to the mirror too, then he looks back at me. “I know you’re worried about her, but you really don’t need to be.”
“What are they doing in the Atlantic?” I ask, aware he will reply, “I can’t share that information with a Citizen,” before he mutters the sentence. I’m losing my patience with him, and he knows it. Before I can say another word, he says, “Let’s take your mind off your mother for a while, shall we?”
My eyebrows perk up. Exactly what does he have in mind that would have me take my mind off Mother?
He hands me a small black canvas bag. “Change into this first. I will change in your bathroom.”
I open the bag and empty its contents on my bed. It’s only one content, really.
“It’s a wet suit,” he says. “Put it on, we’re heading off the Iliad.”
We are in the veda, dropping lower and lower to the bowels of the ship. We alight on Level M, which Eric tells me is the lowest we can possibly go.
We walk down several large echoing hallways, and I can no longer remember the direction we took, to get back to the veda. It’s a good thing I grew up in caves—I can get lost for days down here and still know I’m okay.