Mirror X

by Karri Thompson

  “Fourteen.”

  Adios to my idea of jumping from a window. Never mind. “So, what else would I see from this imaginary window?”

  “Well, just past this building there are highways, some at ground level and others elevated.”

  “Except for the lack of fauna and flora, it doesn’t sound much different from one thousand years ago.”

  “After the plague, we experienced a technological recession. At least that’s what Dr. Bennett likes to call it. Advancements in technology and medicine suffered. But mankind is back on track, at least on the medical side, thanks to Dr. Bennett and his genius.”

  “What about the field of paleontology? How has it changed?” I asked, imagining a self-propelled chisel and pickax.

  “That occupation no longer exists. This world’s focus is on the future. This is a world full of optimism and hope. There’s no need to look back.”

  “So no one studies dinosaurs anymore?”

  “There are a few private collectors, but that’s all,” she said.

  “What about museums? Do they still exist?”

  Ella shook her head and blinked. “Nope,” she added in the same flippant tone.

  From under the sheet, I kicked the exercise pole up and away from my ankles, setting it into another wobbly spin. My mother’s craft—my future craft—was long gone. There was no one left to brush away the dirt of the past, to complete a picture of the Triassic, Jurassic, or Cretaceous periods.

  Those who cared about the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex or graceful Pteranodon were dead and buried like the extraordinary creatures they studied. Apparently there were more important tasks for this humanity to fulfill, whatever those might be.

  The pole finished a last rotation, faltered, and dropped onto my bed.

  “Hon, let’s continue this conversation tomorrow, okay?”

  I didn’t answer. Why should I, Cassie Dannacher, the daughter of a lowly paleontologist? This was a society that wanted to forget its past. I was a part of the past, a new plague in this world. I wanted out of this hospital. I couldn’t stand it in here one more minute.

  “I just don’t get it, Ella. The only way a society can properly advance is by exploring and studying its history. There’s more to a society’s past than what’s written in books. There’s still so much to learn, to uncover through excavation.” I tried to sit up, and my lack of muscle control and coordination sent the table hovering next to my bed into a rhythmic shake with an accidental elbow poke.

  “Wait, please, take me to a window before you go,” I begged one last time. “This room is making me claustrophobic.”

  “Oh, stop that Tasma talk. Why don’t you try eating your breakfast? You’re more than ready to feed yourself.” She returned to my bedside and picked up my tray.

  Tasma talk? What in the world was she talking about? The plate Ella set on my lap was cool, but the eggs, hash browns, and toast were as steamy hot as when they arrived. I didn’t bother to ask how or why.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “You should try to eat something before Dr. Bennett gets here.”

  “He’s coming here today?”

  She nodded. “He wants to spend some time with you, so he can see how you’re feeling and how you’re coping with the new changes in your life.”

  Time alone with Dr. Bennett. Although I’d hardly met him, my heartbeat quickened and my cheeks erupted with heat.

  Chapter Three

  Dr. Bennett entered my room carrying a flat, rectangular box under his arm. “How was your first meal in over one thousand years?” He laughed. He was different than he was the last time I saw him, more confident, rested, and poised.

  “Good,” I said, beginning our conversation like a proper patient.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked in doctor-like fashion as he secured the box under his arm, leaned across my bed, and placed his palm on my forehead. It was the same one I’d felt when I first became conscious. I recognized its weight and the gentle spread of his fingers just above my eyebrows.

  Taking a deep breath, I studied the curve of his lips, the rise of his cheekbones, and his perfectly proportioned nose as he lifted his hand away.

  “Okay, I guess, Dr. Bennett. It’s easier to talk today, but my mouth is still really dry.”

  “Call me Michael.”

  “Okay. Michael.” My stomach did a somersault as Dr. Bennett—no, Michael—approached my bed with a smile.

  As he set the box at my feet, I couldn’t help but remember his hands at my waist, easing me up from the floor and back onto the bed.

  From his pocket, he pulled out the metal object I’d seen him holding yesterday. As it lay in his palm, what began as the size of a half-deck of playing cards, instantly unfolded into a flat, handheld screen, thinner than any computer tablet from 2022. “I’ll request a pitcher of water for your room. It’ll be delivered with your next meal,” he said, tapping the screen with his fingertip.

  “What’s that thing?”

  “It’s called a Liaison. It’s a communication and informational device, linked to the Region One master computer, Liaison One.”

  “You have access to the entire region?”

  “Some people do, I’m sure, but not me. Although, as a doctor and scientist, my Liaison has more programs than most.”

  “You don’t look like a doctor or a scientist.” I smiled.

  Michael lowered his head, grinning and releasing his Liaison as it collapsed upon itself and dropped back into the lower pocket on his shirt.

  Geez, why did I say that? I am such an idiot. He’s going to think I’m hitting on him or something.

  “Why not?” he said, crossing his arms but keeping his smile.

  “Because you just look so young, that’s all. It has nothing to do with the way you act or anything. I’m sure you’re older than you look. Let me guess—the fountain of youth isn’t a myth. It’s been found, right?” I giggled nervously. Oh gosh. I was such a geek. That wasn’t flirting, that was making a complete fool of myself.

  He didn’t laugh but lifted an eyebrow.

  Seeing he was not amused, I searched for a way to save the conversation and my dignity. I came up short, dropped my shoulders, and sighed.

  “Are you thirsty now?” he asked.

  Whew! So glad he changed the subject. “Yeah.”

  The glass of water brought to me with breakfast was still half full. As he reached across the bed to retrieve it, his abdomen lightly brushed the tops of my knees. Now I really needed to get my hormones in check before I made a total fool out of myself again.

  My hand shook as I took the octagon-shaped glass. “Your muscles are tired,” he said. “Let me help you.” He set the glass against my chapped lips and tilted it until the cool water hit my tongue. I looked up at him from the rim of my glass. He was looking at my chest. Why? I was wearing an ugly hospital gown.

  I should have been looking at the glass, not at him. Water leaked from the corner of my mouth, trickling down to my chin. Ignoring the soreness in my bicep, I brushed the drops away with my fingers and caught another with the back of my hand before it reached my neck.

  “Sorry about that,” he said as he set down the glass, pulled a chair closer to the edge of my bed, and sat down without looking at me.

  Totally embarrassing. I took a small breath through my nose and let it out slowly in order to keep my heart rate in check. “No problem,” I half mumbled with a forced smile as my lower lip trembled. Now what? Another subject change. “Um, so what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the box at the end of my bed.

  “It’s a game. Ella told me that you were bored, so I thought I’d keep you company for a while—that is, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” I answered, beaming genuinely this time.

  He brought the box to my bed, and after lifting the lid, the game board rose into the air.

  “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing.”

  With a tap, M
ichael knocked it into position, where it remained suspended, inches above my lap. “I need to get closer. Do you mind?” he asked, motioning to the edge of my bed.

  “No, not at all. It’ll be easier to play if I can sit cross-legged.” Holding the sheet against my waist, I attempted to get into game-playing position, my movements clumsy and weak at best.

  “Let me help you,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. Bracing my hands, one on each of his shoulders, he helped stabilize my upper body while I scooted into position, our foreheads almost meeting.

  While he touched me, a pleasant chill rippled in my chest and I inhaled, filling my lungs with his spicy cologne. I hoped a second breath would ease my pounding heart.

  “Thanks,” I said again, blushing.

  “No problem.” He leaned forward to steady the game, and the muscles in his forearms flexed. My lips parted, but I held my breath until he was seated with his heels resting on the bed frame.

  Michael cleared his throat and moved his hand until it was a few inches from my knee. “You’re making an excellent recovery, Cassie. Your brain waves are normal, your heart is strong, and your lungs are clear.”

  “What were you worried about—cardiac pulmonary edema?” I joked.

  “Actually, yes, we were,” he said, tilting his head. He smiled and set two shiny game pieces, something like a little car and what appeared to be a tiny ring, on a space labeled “Go.” “It sounds like you know as much about the human body as you do dinosaurs.”

  “No, not quite. One of the graduate students who worked with my mother was also studying forensic anthropology and forensic pathology. I used to read her textbooks when I ran out of novels or magazines. I’m a big nerd, I know.” I laughed again.

  “Nerd? I don’t know that word.”

  “Really? Wow. Um, a nerd is someone who studies a lot. You know, someone who likes to learn.”

  “Well then, I’m a nerd, too. I’ve been studying and learning my whole life.”

  “Is that how you became a doctor at such a young age?” He was at that in-between point where the word “boy” or “man” could be used to describe him. “How old are you anyway?” Part of me was surprised I actually dared to ask. When I get nervous, I get giddy. And when I get giddy, my filter basically disappears. Not a good thing, especially right at that moment as I accidently knocked my knee against his hand.

  Oh God, I touched him.

  “I’m nineteen, and yes, that’s partly how I became a doctor at this age.”

  “Wow, you’re only two years older than me. It’s kinda weird calling you ‘doctor.’”

  “To be honest, I’m not quite used to being called ‘doctor’ yet, even by my colleagues.” He cleared his throat. “So, um, do you want to be the mover or the L-Band?” He asked, pointing to the game pieces.

  So it was a type of car. “The mover.” Cars were cool. L-Bands were ugly, and I didn’t know enough about them. I took the tiny, metallic mover, inspecting its bullet-shaped body and running the tip of my finger against its four fixed wheels. Hmm, I guess their cars don’t fly. “So, you’re only two years older than me. That’s crazy. I mean, you’re not old enough to drink alcohol, but you’re allowed to diagnose and treat patients.”

  “Actually, I’m a geneticist, and real alcohol is banned since it’s too hard on the liver. No one is allowed to drink it. Artificial alcohol is available, but its impact on the central nervous system is mild compared to the non-synthetics.”

  Wait. Geneticist? Why was I being seen by a geneticist?

  “Is Dr. Love a geneticist, too?”

  “No, she’s a transplant surgeon.”

  “A transplant surgeon? Did I need to have a…?”

  “No, but she, like Ella, played an integral role in your awakening and now in your recovery. I predict you’ll be walking by the end of the week.” He brought one leg onto my bed and left the other where it was, the bottom of his hard-soled shoe teetering on the bed frame.

  “And then will you give me a tour of this place? I want to go to the botanical building. I can’t stand being in this room all day.”

  Michael smiled, and his right eyebrow lifted. “Sure, part of your rehabilitation includes a slow immersion into the GenH1 compound.” He moved closer to me, and my heart jumped into my throat. “How did you know about the botanical building?”

  “Ella. I asked her about trees and flowers.”

  “When you’re ready, I’ll take you there. I promise,” he said, leaning near enough for his breath to hit my lips. “You can go there right now if you land on it.” He set the tiny mover to a square with the picture of a wooden building, and I watched the rise of his cheeks and the light in his eyes dance when he laughed.

  “So this game board represents this hospital?” I asked, diverting my eyes from Michael’s to study each square outlining the board.

  “Yes, but not just the hospital. It includes this subdivision, this division, this sector, this region, and Regions Two and Three.” Michael touched the center of the game while he spoke, and what appeared to be a solitary board sliced horizontally into four additional boards. “But since this is your first game, I think we’ll just stick to this subdivison.” He touched the uppermost board, and they collapsed back into one. His tone was playful, borderline flirtatious—definitely not as doctor-like.

  Score.

  “Wow, I’ve never played a game like this before.” I grinned and my whole body tingled.

  “Now, we both begin with ten thousand credits.” He pulled what looked like two mini Liaisons from the box and handed one to me. “The object of the game is to become the wealthiest player by buying and renting property, which is actually kind of ironic considering that the government owns all property.”

  “Then it’s just like Monopoly,” I said, scanning the board until I found the words “Community Chest” and “Chance,” but instead of the four Railroad spaces and two Utilities, I found the squares “Hoverbus Depot,” “Liaison One,” and “Obscura Preservation” in a subdivision adjacent to the hospital.

  “It’s based on an ancient game. I was hoping you’d recognize it.” Michael’s eyes gleamed. “It’s called Ascendancy.”

  The innocent-sounding word gave me chills, especially when I saw that the “Jail” space was replaced with the not-so-innocent title of “Prison.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Michael showed me how to navigate through the screens of the mini Liaison, and every time he reached across the game, stretching his muscular arm and letting his shoulders settle back into place, my heart danced, and I caught his gaze looking over my body.

  Our eyes met, and he beamed, his knee bobbing up and down a few times during the silence—maybe from nerves. Like being on a first date.

  On his next turn, Michael landed on a square labeled “A.G.-lift,” an anti-gravity elevator, which allowed him to move his marker to Community Chest. He tapped the game’s Liaison to read the card.

  Community Chest. In this world, I was no longer a part of any community. “So, um, what will happen to me when I’m ready to leave the hospital?” I asked. “I have no money, no home. I don’t even have a high school diploma. Wait. You still have high school, right? Can I go to high school?” I asked excitedly. “I still need to finish my senior year.”

  “That won’t be necessary. High school does still exist, but we’ve seen your digital transcript. It’s quite impressive. You could’ve graduated at the end of your junior year with all of the credits you had. If you want a diploma, we can issue you one, but it really isn’t necessary,” he said, brushing back a strand of unruly hair that broke away from above his forehead.

  “So, that means no prom.” I frowned, frustrated, and rolled the dice. Ironically, my marker landed on a government-run high school called “Educator 7.”

  But who was I kidding? I wouldn’t have gone to my prom back home, either. I wasn’t affiliated with any particular high school, just a school district, and I would have been stuck
in the middle of the desert anyway. A semester at Central only gave me one possibility and that faded the minute my mother landed back in the States and dragged me to her next dig. I knew David Casper would have asked me.

  “Prom?” He looked up with a confused expression.

  “Oh, um, it’s a dance. It’s kind of like a rite of passage. You get all dressed up. The guy wears a tux and the girl wears a fancy dress. You rent a limo. You go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant beforehand,” I said, beaming, but his expression hadn’t changed. “Don’t tell me proms don’t exist anymore.”

  “I’ve never heard of one. The regions’ educational systems promote learning, not socializing.”

  “Never mind then. I don’t need a prom. If I was back home…” I dropped my hands in my lap. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “Don’t worry about your future here. We’re going to take care of everything.” He held his mini Liaison like it was the real thing.

  By what, some kind of welfare system? I didn’t want a handout of any kind.

  “So if the government owns all property, what happened to the house my mother owned? And my father’s? He owned a house, too.” My dad, well, we never spoke. He left my mom and me when I was two. Supposedly he was rich and owned several properties, not that I ever saw any of his money. But I must have some relatives or maybe even an inheritance somewhere. “And what about relatives? I must be someone’s great, great, great, great, great aunt, or something, right?” My shoulders ached with panic.

  “I’m sorry, Cassie, but all property was absorbed and redistributed by the government after the plague, and”—he sighed and set his hand on my knee—“your bloodline ended.”

  “Ended? Are you sure?” My hands trembled in my lap.

  “Yes, we traced your genealogy thoroughly.”

  “So, now what am I going to do? I just want to go home—to my home in my time.”

  Michael leaned over the game board and settled his palm on the top of my hand. “People’s priorities are different. Our goals are not the same. A new culture has emerged from the old. You and this world do have something in common, though. Life stopped and then started again. And just like this planet, you’ve been given a second chance. You’re going to make this world a better place.” He spoke earnestly, his gaze fixed on me, but his words and warm touch weren’t enough to smother my fears and confusion.