by Nirina Stone
“Those who can dig and understand the ways of the Earth,” she says, answering her own question. “Those who can navigate the Earth’s great oceans.” She doesn’t continue, but I know she means to say, not the people who live in the clouds.
Was Isaac right? Is this to become yet another Great Omni, then? Are we destined to continue to destroy one another, remaining in a vicious cycle of death and destruction and nothing else? I hope not, or else what is there to look forward to? What is there left to fight for?
My chest constricts, a fist of pressure right under my chest bone that doesn’t ease. It’s not my heart, I already know that without a doubt. But no amount of nanobot technology can make panic attacks disappear. The Soren doctors have confirmed that much for me.
I breathe and watch Mother’s face until I get a hold of myself. The last thing I need to do is break down, to Mother’s hushes and comforting mumbles from the mirror.
“The Prospo are only here to demolish the Earth and her gifts, to sustain their outrageous lifestyle. Now they’re doing the same to the moon and to Mars. We must stop them at all costs.”
I agree with her on that point. They have no respect for anything other than convenience and size and wealth. But do they need to be completely eradicated from the Earth?
I’ve read about things like that, something that the ancients used to do to one another for decades, even before the Great Omni. “What you are talking about is genocide, Mother,” I say, knowing the moment it’s out of my mouth, she won’t be happy with my response.
“How would you define what they are doing?” she asks, her voice strained. She looks like she wants to yell at me through the Mirror Comm, but she’s holding back. “With all their fertility centers where most Citizen females end up dead!”
What? I didn’t know that. It doesn’t surprise me though, now that I’ve learnt females are supposed to be mobile when bearing children, not lying down in beds attached to machines for forty two weeks.
“They tell us we can’t have children of our own while they have more and more little Prospo brats running around.” My mind lights on Amy Diamond, and I imagine hundreds, thousands, millions of people like her in the world. Then I remember Margo and shudder.
“They watch us slowly die in our holes while they move from one mansion to another, with no other reason than to spend time somewhere else for a bit.”
She’s completely right, of course. I can’t disagree with her on any of those accounts.
“What if we—” I start, and she stops her diatribe. “What if we continue to kidnap people and educate them? Turn them around?” I know it would be as ridiculous and futile as it sounds. People like Isaac can’t be turned.
Mother does not reply. She leans back into her chair, and looks at me with her head tilted and her mouth pursed. It’s the look Mother gives me when she wants me to work things out on my own.
And I should. It’s ludicrous, but I desperately want her to stop listing the ways in which the Prospo are killing us. I know the current status quo needs to be changed. Things definitely can’t continue the way they are at the moment. In order for things to change, those fertility centers must be gone. They can’t simply be shut down and locked up. They are full of the dead. They must be buried. Demolished.
Mother is still watching me, waiting expectantly. “Look,” she says, “these are not things I want you thinking about. These are things decided by more powerful people with more to lose than you do. We’re all still in discussions about what to do next.”
I look out my balcony window, a fresh warm breeze off the ocean permeating my room with a fresh smell of pine. I think of trees and breezes and oceans and books, and wonder how the ancients would react if they saw what we have done with the world. Would they believe it was all worth it? Would they be dismayed? Is this what they expected would happen? Or is it something they were honestly trying to avoid, the entire time? I guess we will never know.
“Mother,” I say after a few minutes. “Tell me more about your intel in the North Atlantic.”
Status Quo?
How did it come to this, I wonder? How is it that, over five years ago, I was a naive Citizen, going about my day like a good little obedient slave to the Apex system? How did I go from that, to studying in Azure, to working in P-City, to becoming another kidnapped Soren ward?
And today, I’m a Legacy and a Soren through and through. I’m about to help annihilate the world of the Prospo, and most of the Citizens’ world too, if we’re being honest.
But I’m convinced we’re right. We, the Sorens, are in the right. We have to do this. We have to bring down P-City and all its glory. This all has to end, no matter what happens.
Are we repeating history, I wonder? Has this all happened already, but so far back in our memories, the reality of it is foreign? Are we destined to start over and kill each other again? I don’t have the answers, but I know we must try, and we must hope for better. For ourselves and for our descendants.
So I make my way to the Town Hall, where everything will begin. I asked specifically to do the announcement myself, as my official Introduction, though I can’t for the life of me understand why they are indulging me. Maybe it’s because of my last name? Because of Grandma Rosemary? Maybe it’s because Mother is a general now? I’m not sure. But I’m ready.
Eric is setting up everything for me, and I see Commander Blair sitting in the corner, too. He’s here to remotely ensure all of his officers are in place across Apex, able to conduct their specific tasks without a hitch.
The commander catches my eye when I walk in and raises his hand in a greeting. I nod back with a slight smile. I’m still not sure what to make of this Blair.
I saw him in the forest, the day after our quiet spat in front of the Interview Room. He jogged past me as usual, but had a wicked smile on his face when I watched him from the corner of my eye. I walked faster around the bend, but my arm was pulled back hard, and I turned to slightly fall, slightly twist into the commander’s chest. I raised my hand up to brace myself, and felt his thrumming heartbeat under his warm, damp sweatshirt.
My own heart was in my throat.
His face was so close to mine, I breathed in his minty musky scent.
Then, before I could object or pull back, he crushed his mouth to mine and kissed me for what felt like days. I must have punched his chest or tried to yell or tried to kick his shin. Or maybe it was all in my head. Because when he finally pulled away, I could hardly breathe. He held me in his arms until I was able to stand on my own feet without collapsing. What in the world was that?
“I told you we need to finish what we started,” he’d said. Then he ran in the other direction while I stood on the path, my mouth agape, still tasting him on my lips. The next few times I saw him in the forest, he winked at me and continued running as I felt myself wishing he would kiss me again. But it only happened the one time. I haven’t told Eric about it.
Today is not the right day for talking about that though. Nor is it the right day to remember his kiss.
Blair looks at me, as if he can tell exactly where my thoughts are and he winks again. I try to fight the sudden flush of my cheeks, to no avail. Instead I walk towards the table where Eric is setting up, and sit resolutely in front of the machine.
There are a few curious inhabitants of the Iliad milling around in the Town Hall, watching us set up. Four of the Centenarians of the Bridge Club sit in a corner near my table, and I nod in recognition to one of them as she smiles and waves at me.
A tall, silver-haired lady beside her is speaking out loud in a breathless voice. I can’t remember her name, but sometimes see her sitting with the children of the Iliad, regaling them about adventures from her younger days. She has a reputation of being rather eccentric, but is otherwise harmless.
I watch her speak, admiring her elegant white gauzy dress. She looks like she was beautiful once, and she always entertains the children with her stories.
“You know,” s
he croaks to her companions. “This has happened before—”
“Yes, yes,” another lady says, “we know, we all know. And this will all happen again.” They all laugh aloud, as they walk towards the Town Hall exit.
I chuckle and turn to look closely at the machine. The final product is much smaller than I expected—nothing more than a tiny, rugged black metal box. But I don’t question its authenticity or capability. We’ve used it often enough over the last several weeks, and I helped put together some of the components myself, though I’m certainly not an expert like the Soren Robotics Engineers that created it from scratch.
I’m still not entirely sure if it will work for the scale we need today, but I’ll make for a good test subject, as much as the next person.
Eric asks if I’m ready and I nod my head. He has another Soren, a nurse named Tara, attach a remote heart monitor to my chest. Then she attaches an IV to my arm in case I get lost inside and they need to find me.
Then Eric picks up the Virtual Helmet we’ve hacked for my address, and places it securely over my head.
We test it to make sure I can hear them and they can hear me clearly, then I sit back into a marginally comfortable position, and we’re ready. We tested the machine with only a comm and a video, but it works best with the virtual helmet, so the temporary discomfort is well worth it.
The small screen in front of my eyes flickers minutely and I hear Eric’s voice. “You can start any time. We’re broadcasting.”
I try to ignore nervous spasms in the pit of my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I smile and start with, “Hello. My name is Romy Mason.” My face is showing across every single Comm and screen and video across Apex, the colonies on the moon, and the colony on Mars.
There is also a massive screen behind me, where people in the town hall can monitor my progress and that of my fellow Sorens.
Right now, there are thousands of Soren soldiers dispersed throughout Apex, waiting for the commander’s go ahead before they complete their mission.
“I was formerly Romy Fifty Two,” I say into the helmet. “But that was never my name. My name is Mason. We all have family names.”
“A little softer,” Eric says into my earpiece, and I realize I’m nearly yelling at all of Apex. I smile shyly, and continue in a lower tone.
“Here’s the bad news,” I say. This is Commander Blair’s code word for GO. His people are pressing buttons and launching missiles towards all the various fertility clinics, knowledge hubs and mass incinerator buildings throughout P-City.
His team emptied the buildings and the areas surrounding them ahead of time, so no clueless innocent Citizens are caught in the destruction. Hundreds of buildings are falling and crashing in clouds of dirt and fire as I speak, all over Apex.
“We’ve all been blind and led to believe life as it is, is necessary.” I remember the word being one Isaac favoured, and try to keep him out of my head. “We believed that the Prospo live in the sky, the Citizens underground, and the Sorens are nomadic.” I’m tempted to nod but try not to move my head. Eric warned me too much vibration or movement might destabilize the whole thing, so I stay still as I continue. “It’s not your fault that you are born a Citizen or a Soren or a Prospo. It is only the fault of the leaders, past and present, who concealed the truth and led us astray.”
That is another cue we practised. Behind my face on the screens across Apex, various pictures and videos from the vault are being displayed.
When I spoke to Mother about other possible scenarios they were considering other than genocide, she said they planned to remove all traces of the institutions the Prospo use to enslave and kill the Citizens. “Genocide was never our first option,” she’d admitted. “But it’s still an option.” That it is still a possibility terrifies me, but at least it’s not happening right now. Maybe it will never happen at all.
The plan to destroy places instead of people would help disrupt our world enough for real change, but we would need proof to show them all why it was done.
The proof is now flashing across screens wherever there are people. At this time, my face is no longer visible to them. My voice will continue speaking over the pictures while our comms run through the slides.
“For their own gain,” I continue. The pictures are of the rooms and halls in fertility centers, where female Citizens are kept locked up and attached to machines. Several are dying, and most others are corpses, waiting at the end of the long line before being thrown into an incinerator.
“To maintain the Status Quo,” I say, as they flash pictures of Azure. Specifically, the male side of the wall, where—since Father’s death—inmates are left in the medical hallway, their various injuries and conditions left unattended. “To maintain control.” I try not to think of Father. My eyes are still on the tiny screen in the helmet while it flashes once. “Some of those Leaders have Prospo names,” I continue, watching the continued flashing. “Some have Citizen Numbers. All,” I say, when the flashing stops and it’s nearly time for the next part, “are dangerous.”
Then I take a deep breath. “The good news is—most of us are not infertile.” They are showing scenes from the Iliad and our various other vessels, where pregnant women are walking hand in hand with their other children.
“Not for centuries have we been infertile,” I say, a tad too loud. Eric speaks in my ear, but I already continue with a lowered voice. “We are all descendants of the thousands that survived and migrated from the north.”
Do they understand what I’m saying? Are some of them already aware of all this?
“We are of the same blood.” I feel my arms raise though they can’t see that. Eric tells me not to move too much. I lower my arms and stay still.
“All good,” he says.
“We are all the same people,” I continue, while I watch the little screen start its little flashes. “But the moon and Mars are not meant to be populated,” I add quickly. I don’t agree with this part of the speech, but Mother insisted it was added, under threat of not allowing me to do any of this at all. “If they did,” I continue, “we’d be able to breathe without artifice. We wouldn’t die within years of arriving there.”
The flashing stops; a sign we’re nearly done. Wishing that I thought of having a drink before we started, I swallow quietly and take another deep breath.
“The truth is, there is plenty of space on this Earth for all of us to seek and create new homes, new societies.” I pause as I imagine all the people absorbing my words, and their various reactions to them. “Yes,” I say, “even north.”
They are flashing video from the lands in the North Atlantic where people, including Mother, are setting up small colonies. I’ve watched the videos so often, I can envision exactly what the people of Apex are watching.
The ground is lush. The trees and bushes are plenty, and wild, and alive! They are alive. The lakes are all filled with fresh, clean water, and the fruits and vegetables and plants that have taken over are all edible. We should know—we’ve been eating them all this time.
All the lies the Prospo told us, including their assertion that Apex was the only livable area left on Earth have been disproved completely.
I know that another group of Sorens are physically and remotely attacking all the AADA’s across Apex and the colonies. These are the Prospo’s most treasured sources of disinformation. Now, they are all gone. I smile at the screen.
“I, for one, am planning to travel north and find land for myself and my kin.” My kin consists of Mother and a small number of the population on the Iliad. Others have elected to stay on board while we build new homes, and plan to come onshore when everything is ready for them.
I want to get digging again—it’s been so long! I can’t wait to build homes with Mother by my side. Father would approve.
“Maybe I will see you there,” I say, “maybe not. It is entirely your choice. Safe travels.” Then the screen goes blank and Eric pulls the warm helmet off my head. My speech and the entire
recording will play on a loop, over and over, across all the screens in Apex.
The thought is dizzying, but I don’t have a chance to absorb it. I can see that other Sorens across the Iliad wandered into the Town Hall to watch our efforts while I was under the helmet.
There must be over one thousand people in here, and the mass is overflowing out onto the Town Hall steps.
They watch silently as I take a sip of water, then someone claps. Before long, the sole clap turns into a thunderous uproar of whistles and shouts and hundreds of claps from hundreds of laughing people.
I can’t help but smile as I watch their elation.
“What do you think?” Eric asks, his arm around my shoulders while we watch the crowd celebrate.
“I think I’m ready to go,” I say honestly. “It’s done.”
It’s done.
EPILOGUE
It has been nearly one year since we brought down P-City. The area is simply called Liberty, and there is a mix of Prospo and Citizens and Sorens that have decided to make their homes there, though the terms ‘Prospo’ and ‘Citizen’ and ‘Soren’ are no longer relevant. They are now a nation of liberators. Has a nice ring to it.
There are thousands of people still searching for their family names, and learning to live with those names, rather than assigned numbers.
We have spent months building Apex up to a livable state, and our horizon has dramatically changed. We emptied and destroyed the various P-City Buildings that were erected over the graves of the people of C-City, and it has been turned into a massive field, full of trees and wild flowers and a statue in their honour.
No one will be allowed to build anything on that piece of land again.
Scientists tell us it will likely take years, if not decades, for the clouds over Liberty to completely dissipate, though I notice more and more blue sky fighting to come through. It’s such a great sight—I didn’t expect to ever see that amount of blue anywhere in Apex.
The leaders that promulgated the Prospo lifestyle and thereby enslaved and killed Citizens have all been charged and now call Azure their home. The high fences and electric circuits have the function to keep inmates in, rather than keep intruders out.