by P. S. Lurie
We pass through a series of monotonous walkways until we come to a T-junction with a balcony in front of us. It’s the central plaza of the fortress that serves as a focal point for navigating, similar to how the Utopia was designed and portrayed in promotional videos had it set sail. Theia looks aghast at the sight.
“I can’t believe this much exists. How long have they spent building this?”
She doesn’t look for an answer because I am almost as clueless to everything as she is, it’s just that I had the privileged position that my father serves a purpose to them. Served a purpose, I remind myself. I play her question over in my head; even though I know President Callister was aware of the sea receding, I hadn’t considered the fact that this was being built long before the great cull whilst others were suffering and then told there were not enough resources or space to Rehouse them. President Callister wanted to exterminate most of the population. “We’ve been up here for six months but the new world order has been in the works for years,” I mutter. “Only the best and brightest. No one dissenting.”
Does Theia count in this description? I wonder what President Callister sees in her to spend so much time focusing on one girl.
We watch as people move around the floors, close to the lunch break so that they are away from their stations or leaving their apartments towards the canteen. We’re on the third level from the top, able to pace the entire circumference of the balcony if we wanted to, circling a sheer drop to the ground floor beneath us. From there, tucked in the corner is the exit, leading to two elevator shafts and a stairwell that descend into the Upperlands. Theia has no idea but in various directions are restaurants and a theatre, a gymnasium and a swimming pool, museums, a library and every other amenity any decent city would have. It just happens to be the only city left on the planet. The library strikes me as the most unbelievable of all: holding the only copies of hundreds of thousands of books. When we want to study certain texts we have to use photocopies or digital prints. It’s out of bounds except to a few privileged people in order to preserve the world’s historical documentation.
Now I wonder if there are various texts that President Callister wants to keep away from us.
“Down there,” I say, pointing to the ground. “We can exit that way, but look.” There is a single guard patrolling. “Funny, there are usually more.”
“It could be my brother. Maybe it’s him.”
“Does President Callister know about him?”
Theia nods.
“There are hundreds of them so it’s unlikely, plus President Callister is hardly going to leave him doing a mundane job. We need a distraction.”
“Such as?” As soon as she speaks the words, an alarm, the same as the one I heard earlier today, rings through the concourse, which causes everyone to jump and stop what they’re doing.
“Two traitors have absconded,” President Callister’s voice calls through speakers throughout the plaza. “They are dangerous and should be approached with caution. Do not harm them but report their whereabouts immediately. Please view the nearest screen for images of them.”
I turn to Theia, aware that escape has become infinitely harder as television sets display our faces. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
Selene
I cautiously make my way towards the entrance, waiting before turning the final corner for any signs of life. No one else has come to investigate but I was right that it was the same apartment block; it’s less the familiarity of the environs and more the sense of impending danger that persuades me that I’m nearing Nathaniel’s apartment. The pain has long gone from my hips, replaced by a burst of curiosity that drags me forwards rather than turning and running far away. Whoever arrived by helicopter could have left already but I have a feeling whatever they wanted was in this building and they’re still inside. No one could know I’ve returned or that I’m alone but I can’t help shake the suspicion that the helicopter’s arrival is deemed for me.
The first time I tried to flee, the building proved impossible as the doors were locked and my identification watch, alluding to belonging to Selene Keele, was as fake as my relationship with Nathaniel despite his belief that we were intertwined. On top of that, Nathaniel was patrolling because of my escape attempt so I had no easy route.
I try to convince myself to retreat but I reach into my pocket and retrieve the loose watch that I took by force. The electricity continues to flow through the neglected city as if mocking us Middlelanders that weren’t deemed worthy of receiving anything but infrequent surges for the rarest of occasions. That even their dead are more deserving.
The edges of the watch strap are still stained with blood and I hold the watch up to the panel. “Doctor Rufus Penn, Status: Approved.”
I was under the impression that Nathaniel’s father was a sympathetic doctor but it was a lie fed to me so that together they could brainwash me and supply me with pills. The last time I saw the man, he was on the floor in the apartment with his thumb severed, which I had wrapped up and thrown towards him. I assumed he would miss the opportunity to board the Utopia and drown when the Fence was blown apart and the sea rushed in.
In wounding him, unless he bled to death, I may have saved his life.
The door unlocks and I walk in.
I debate taking the stairs or the elevator even though I should leave instead. The fast route would reveal my presence if anyone is waiting for me, opening up in full view on Nathaniel’s floor. The stairs up the six levels would be painful, physically challenging on my exhausted body, but it would buy me more time from what I might find waiting for me.
The choice is obvious and I head for the stairwell.
Melissa
I play through the demonstrations in my head to make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything before I insert the tube into Ronan’s arm. As potentially fatal as this could be, I have a good idea from my knowledge of blood types and the time spent organising the hospital in the Middlelands that Travis is a viable donor. A trickle of the man’s blood leads from his body into Ronan’s; it’s risky if the boy rejects it or if I set up the procedure wrong but it’s too late to worry about that now. “Even a pint would help,” I say.
“Would be a shame to lose him now.” Travis notices that Ronan isn’t paying attention. “Isn’t that right?”
Ronan doesn’t connect with the question for a second. “Sure, yeah.” He’s either still faint or distracted, maybe fearful of seeing blood or he’s thinking about something unrelated that he hasn’t shared with us.
I reckon I have ten or fifteen minutes before we can move on to gather up gauzes and some surgical items, and there’s also time to check on Tess. I’ve already decided that if there’s anything wrong with the baby then I’ll pretend there isn’t until today is over because there’s no point her worrying if we end up dead. With any luck I’ll be able to tell her it’s healthy. “Samuel, can you watch them while Tess and I go and fetch some equipment? Come find me if anything happens.”
“Of course.”
Tess kisses Samuel, not needing me to detail what I really plan. “Back in a minute.”
“Don’t go too far.”
I lead her to the maternity ward which is on the same floor and where I spent a lot of time caring for the Upperlanders; the number of whom thanked me once they found out I was an un-promoted Middlelander I have counted with one hand. Gratitude definitely didn’t flow in my direction yet I had to swallow my anger or I would face repercussions.
I find the machine pushed back against a bed that has seen plenty of pregnant women, and an upsetting image flickers in my mind of how many of these newborns died onboard the Utopia. I’ve assisted in this procedure plenty of times and feel more confident than the blood transfusion that was normally set up from a bag rather than a live donor. As with the train, there’s still an abundance of electricity here so the ultrasound screen flickers to life with the flick of a switch. Tess climbs onto the bed as I lift her shirt and rub
cool lubricant over her almost flat stomach and look for the baby’s heartbeat.
“Anything?”
“Not yet. Just give me a moment...”
A beat, then a steady pattern as a head comes into focus followed by a hand. “There it is. I can’t tell you much but there’s your baby.”
Tess tears up, studying the monitor but not understanding anything more than I’ve told her. “Thank you Melissa.”
“Tess, it’s not too late. If you want to find a hiding spot...”
“No.”
“What about your baby?”
“She’ll be healthy and happy long after the Upperlanders have paid for what they’ve done to us.”
A male voice comes from the door. “She?”
Tess and I look up to see Samuel, his eyes wide with amazement.
“I,” Tess stumbles. “I just assume it’s a girl. Samuel...” She doesn’t need to say any more as she holds out her hand and Samuel doesn’t hesitate, immediately walking over and taking her hand in his.
“You were gone too long. I was worried about you.”
“Look.” I point out the baby’s frame to the couple but the moment is quickly broken by Ronan who is followed by Travis as they burst through the door, the tube disconnected from both of their arms. Ronan looks healthier but has a panicked expression on his face. “Someone’s coming.”
Ruskin
“This is stupid. We’re going to get ourselves killed.”
I can’t help but notice that I am now the one trying to think sensibly whilst Jack is foolhardily heading towards the enemy. I have wanted the opportunity to attack for months but even I know that revealing ourselves would mean instant death.
“You don’t have to come with,” says Jack. “Stay with Claire and Dante back at the meeting point.”
“And leave you to run into danger?”
“It’s a good job you love me then.”
“I must be mad to.”
Jack stops and turns to me. “I want to see it. No barrier between the Middlelands and Upperlands. The world resetting itself. We never thought it would be possible. I need to witness a world without borders.”
I sigh. “It’s a good job I love you.”
Jack’s talked about this for a long time, about what our lives could be with the planet’s water receding far enough to where we could live in a more pleasant climate. I think he wants to see the gates open so he can believe it’s a real possibility. Between imagining how we’d live from within our prison cell to watching it actually unfold, it’s an exciting but daunting prospect. Our shared fantasy of taking a rowboat out on a lake is closer with each revelation but this eventuality will be no easy feat because there’s still so much to accomplish before then.
Still so much that could go wrong.
We keep a decent distance between us and the army and we move with apprehension towards the arena. We stop every few steps to listen in case anyone is in the vicinity and work out that the army has sensibly avoided the Utopia’s wreckage by circling around it and then walking alongside the Fence towards the arena. We follow the same route and eventually approach the entrance to the arena after the army has passed through the tunnel under the upper tiers. I think about the first time I arrived here, on my own, in time to see my parents being pushed to their deaths, not into the sea but to the cold, hard ground.
“Not through there,” I say to Jack, who has only been here once before, later that same day as we ran through the tunnel, hoping that there was still space aboard the Utopia.
Instead, I make a beeline for a narrow gate that leads to some steps that we climb. It opens out to a platform that overlooks the arena, maybe half the height of the Fence, aptly positioned for the monthly announcements for the Upperlanders to feel more superior to the Middlelanders but still pale in comparison to President Callister’s standpoint. Part of the bridge that joined the Fence to the Utopia has collapsed on a stretch of the auditorium but we sweep around it and follow the raking until we are at the front row of the balcony, making sure to drop out of view whilst still lifting our heads high enough to watch the proceedings.
The two hundred or so soldiers are assembled around the gate built into the Fence as a few of them fiddle with a panel fixed into the cement wall. Nothing happens for a moment and then the doors begin to creak as they rotate on their hinges and break apart, grinding against the ground. As the gap begins to widen, we watch as the highest reaches of the Middlelands are exposed.
I wonder when President Callister expected this to happen and whether or not her timescale is on track. She’s not here but I have no doubt that she’s following the proceedings, maybe through one of the communication devices that Ronan has but refuses to use.
It takes a while for the heavy gates to open completely and come to a stop, fully widened and resting against the nearest reaches of the Fence. The child soldiers start up again and make their way through, an army descending into the Middlelands, marching towards the makeshift camps sometime before Ronan thought they would attack this evening. He’s been accurate in what would happen but, as with the timing, some of his reports have been inconsistent although that may be because he was fed faulty information. Does President Callister still think he’s dead? Does Theia know? The soldiers disappear out of view; with their head start, I have to hope that the Middlelanders are already pushing the boats out to sea.
Jack and I are left alone, staring down at the empty arena.
Then the silence is broken by the sounds of footsteps treading the tiered auditorium behind us and guns being removed from their holsters.
Selene
Unless whoever it was is still on the rooftop or they managed to leave before I arrived there doesn’t seem to be any sign of life in the building. I climb each floor, as fast as my legs can take me, stopping to listen out for sounds by each set of doors in the stairwell in case I need to duck out of sight. I gaze up towards the top of the chute, twenty or so floors above me, but there’s nothing. Climbing the stairs exhausts me but I push on.
When I reach Nathaniel’s floor I leave the stairwell and make my way along the corridor. I try all of the doors leading up to his but they are locked. I clutch the gun, better than the knife I had the last time I was here.
I stop in my tracks.
Nathaniel’s door is wide open.
Someone has left this path for me, inviting me back in to where I was held captive. I’m foolish to enter, walking into a trap but I can’t stop now. I hold the gun in front of me as I step through the doorway.
I make my way through the apartment, prepared for anyone to jump out and attack but there is no one here. Instead, the apartment is just as I left it, except for one stark difference: all of the lights have been smashed so even though I flick the switches nothing happens and the farther from the hallway I go, the dimmer the visibility. I move through the living area, past the broken chair and stop at the place where I left Dr Penn bleeding out. He’s long gone. I crouch and squint at the floor and notice a dark stain.
I never doubted he survived so it doesn’t shock me that he’s not here.
“Hello?” I call out, but there’s no answer.
I can hardly see in the bathroom but it’s devoid of anything unusual. I peer towards the tub, in which I was plagued by visions of floating in the sea with dead bodies around me, the remnants of my true memories clinging on and not allowing me to forget my past in its entirety.
Next, the blacked-out bedroom where Nathaniel revealed that he knew that I had worked out the truth about my mother earlier that morning in the arena. Also empty, except for two suitcases on the floor that never made it onto the Utopia. I hold the gun out farther in front of me, my finger hovering over the trigger in case someone charges at me. I can’t see anything and I return to the living room. One more place to go and I tiptoe towards the kitchen. It’s only then that my ears train on the gentle hum coming from inside.
I hold my breath as I realise that’s it not just the lights but
all of the electricity that has been deliberately turned off, except for one machine. The freezer. I look behind me to check no one has sneaked up on me before I edge closer to the appliance.
Unsteady, my hand reaches for the handle and I pull open the door. A blast of cold air hits me along with the bright light that dazzles my vision from within the darkness, illuminating the rest of the kitchen. All but one of the trays have been removed, along with any food. Only a single item rests on the top shelf, preserved by the ice-cold temperature.
A severed hand.
I stagger back as I realise who it belonged to.
“It was your mother’s,” a man behind me says, confirming the answer that I already knew.
Theia
To escape, we need to descend three floors and sneak past an armed guard, which is far easier said than done, especially now that alarms blare overhead and people are taking in our faces on the screens through the central plaza. Everyone starts to look around, trying to figure out whether they are safe by being out in the open, which makes our getaway more difficult because attempting to walk casually to the exit will look at odds with what else is going on. Zeke explained that everyone serves a purpose so we have no right to be wandering around; at our age we should be in school, something that would be far behind me had I still been growing up in the Middlelands. Zeke and I stare at each other and come to the same result: we have to hurry because hiding or dawdling will get us nowhere.
I follow Zeke as he races along the balcony and turns off into a stairwell. We make it down one floor but don’t clear the next one as a man meets us halfway and takes in our appearance. “You’re...” he starts, in shock.
“No,” I try.
“Guards! They’re here.”
Zeke pulls me by the arm and we retrace our steps. There’s no pretending now to be incognito so we run. Zeke barges into a woman and elbows her out of the way. Plenty of people have turned to us and watch as we race, aware that any second now we could be stopped in our tracks by a torrent of bullets. Zeke fishes into his pocket mid-run and pulls out a watch, one of many he’s carrying as we reach a door.