by Ilima Todd
Kai watches me for a minute, as though deciding how much he wants to tell me. Or whether to trust me, which I know he doesn’t. Much. He exhales and asks, “How are your Batches Made?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I only know that the Makers Make them. Ten boys and ten girls per Batch, every month.”
“And you don’t know how they do it?”
I shake my head. After seeing what happened in Sub-level Two and to Miri inside the house, I’m not sure I want to know.
“I don’t know how they do it in Freedom, but here, you need a male and a female, and after—” Kai pauses and his face turns red. “Man, I never thought I’d have to explain this before having my own kids.”
I watch him with drawn brows. He must be embarrassed, with his flushed face and the way he won’t look at me, but I’ve no idea why.
“A male and female get together,” he says, his words coming out in a rush. “And in the course of making love—”
“Wait,” I say, interrupting him. “Making love?”
He looks at me and rubs the back of his neck. “You don’t know what that means?”
I shake my head.
“It’s . . . um . . . you know.” He raises an eyebrow.
“No,” I say. “I really don’t.”
“Uh.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Mating. Intercourse.”
“You mean sex,” I say. “I know what that is.”
“Okay, good.” Kai blows out a puff of air before continuing. “Well, in that process . . . you know—you know what? I think this is a bad idea. Maybe you should talk to my mom about it. Or Puangi.”
A loud scream from the window above us makes me tense. After a minute of silence, I realize Kai isn’t going to continue.
“I know about male and female anatomy. I’m not a complete idiot.”
His eyes grow wide. “I never said you’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, but you thought it,” I say. “You think it.”
Kai narrows his eyes. “I just . . .” He pinches his lips together and doesn’t finish.
I don’t push him to explain why he hates me and instead shift the conversation back. “So the baby?”
“Um, yeah. Sperm fertilizes an egg within the female, and the baby grows inside of her. It’s called pregnancy.”
“A human being grows inside a woman?” I’ve never heard anything like that before, though it explains Miri’s large stomach. I touch my hand to my belly. How strange and unnatural, to have something, a human something, growing inside of your body. “And it comes out when it’s ready?”
“Basically,” he says. “About nine months later. And you’ve got your brand-new person.”
I shake my head. “That can’t be right. I’ve never seen anything like Miri’s stomach before in Freedom. Not once.”
Kai smirks. “That’s because they do something to prevent you from reproducing in Freedom. They alter you when you are first Made, or maybe when you’re Remade, I’m not sure. All I know is they take away your ability to have babies so they can control who and what is Made and when.”
This whole concept is strange. It takes a male and a female to Make an infant? A baby? Maybe Kai is lying to keep me from knowing what’s really going on with Miri. It’s no secret he doesn’t want me here. Why would he tell me the truth? Everything about it is crazy.
Then why, deep down, do I feel like a pair of hands I hadn’t realized were covering my eyes have fallen away? Why does my world look ten times clearer? Maybe the reason I thought there’s more to being male and female is because there is a reason. A really huge reason. But if that’s true, why would Freedom keep it from us?
“What male got Miri pregnant?” I ask.
“My dad, of course.” Kai’s eyes narrow in anger. “Who else would it be?”
Well, you live here, I think. And then there’s this Hemi male, the one Miri sent to stay with cousins, whatever those were. Couldn’t it have been either of them? I don’t dare ask, though, based on the evil glare Kai gives me. I think about the way Ara looks at and treats Miri, like she’s the most important thing in the world. How could he do this to her? She’s obviously in a lot of pain. And then I remember something else Ara had said.
“This isn’t the first time, is it?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t her first baby. It’s her fourth?”
Kai’s eyebrows rise in surprise, and he gives me a sad smile. “Me,” he says, holding up one finger. “Pua,” he says, holding up a second. “And Hemi.” He holds up a third. “Miriama and Arapeta are our parents, our Makers. We call them Mother and Father. Or Mom and Dad. The three of us, soon to be four, are their children.”
“Does Miri only have sex with Ara, then? And no one else?” I ask. And before Kai can answer, I sit up tall, excited about something else I just realized. “And is that why you all look alike?” If they are Made this way by Ara and Miri, it makes sense that they would inherit traits from each . . . parent.
He smirks. “Yes, that’s why we look alike. And yes, my parents only . . . with each other.”
“And is this what you will do, then? Have sex and make babies with just one female?”
“I . . . yes. I suppose.”
“With Pua, maybe?”
“Yikes, no.”
“Why not?” She’s a beautiful female. I’m certain males with mature hormones feel attracted to her.
“Because she’s my sister.” Kai shivers.
I sigh heavily. “What is sister?”
“Puangi and I, we have the same parents. That makes us siblings. I call her my sister, because she is female. She calls me brother, because I am male. And Hemi is our brother.”
“And you cannot have sex with a sister?”
“No. Definitely not.”
How odd to have rules about who you’re allowed to have sex with. I’ve never heard anything like it before in Freedom. Along with everything else we do, if we aren’t infringing on another’s free will, we can do whatever we want with whomever we want.
“Why did Miri call Pua your twin sister?”
“Because we were born at the same time. Two babies at once.”
I have a hard enough time thinking about one baby coming out of Miri. But two? It’s so weird. “Who came up with all of these names? It’s very confusing. Brother, sibling, mother. I can’t keep them straight in my head. Your ways are so strange.”
“And hormone suppression. Shaving your head. Those are not strange?”
I shrug my shoulders. “It keeps us equal until we are ready to choose what we want to be.”
Kai narrows his eyes. “I can’t imagine living without a family in such a forsaken place.”
“Family?”
“Mom. Dad. Children. All of us together, we are a family.”
He knows exactly where he belongs in this world, and I’m sure the rest of his family does too. They are not an experiment.
I lean forward. “Does everyone live this way here, on the island I mean? As families?”
“For the most part. And don’t get me started on grandparents, in-laws, and cousins.”
I open my mouth to ask about those, but Kai stops me.
“Seriously, I think that’s enough for one day,” he says with a smirk, standing up. “Stay here, and don’t move.”
“Where would I go? I’m stranded on an island.”
Kai frowns. “I’ll be right back.” He turns the corner and leaves me alone to absorb all of this new information.
Instead of suppressing my curiosity about this new place and peculiar people, Kai’s explanations have made me more curious. There are other words I want to know, like daughter, son, and deaf. And why is it Pua can’t hear anything? Did she have some sort of accident? Was she Made that way? And do they have Fosterers to care for them when they’re young, or is that what parents do?
It seems like Miri and Ara take on the Trades of Fosterer, Healer, Farmer, Maker, Cook, Teacher, and almost anything else there is to do
. It’s a lot of responsibility. Why would someone want to do so much when the work could be spread out over many, making it much more efficient? I wonder how much of it has to do with that family word they keep mentioning.
“Nine,” a voice whispers through the window above me. I look up to see Pua leaning her head against a mesh screen like the one on the front door. “C’mon in, it’s all right.”
I stand and walk slowly around the house, realizing the screaming has stopped. And when I enter through the door, I hear laughing and bubbling conversation.
“Come in, Nine.” The voice is Miriama’s. And she sounds . . . happy.
I walk slowly through the kitchen and peek around the corner, preparing myself for the onslaught of blood. Miri is still in bed, but heavy blankets cover her body. Her hair is soaked with sweat, and Pua stands behind her, pulling it back into a braid. Ara nods at me with a smile, so I dare to step closer. I come to stand by Kai on the right side of the room, by the window, and that’s when I see it. A bundle of blankets surround the tiniest of bodies that lies in the crook of Miri’s arm. A little brown face with a bald head peeks out from the fabric. Its eyes are closed and its face is wrinkled. It looks so peaceful. Is this the thing that caused so much anguish just minutes ago?
“It’s a boy,” Miri says, looking up at me. “We named him Tama.”
Named him? I figured they’d call him Four until he chose his own name. I look at Pua and Kai. Were they named, too, and did not choose for themselves? I want to think it’s unfair, having such freedom taken from them. But is it unfair, really? From the day they were Made, they had someone telling them who they were. You are Tama, and you are male. You are a sibling, a brother. You are my child. And this is your—what do they call it?—family.
He won’t have to decide on a name, a gender, or how he wants to look. He’ll be able to accept it without doubt. I look around at the people surrounding this baby. They are happy and calm and . . . full of love. And for the first time since washing up on these strange shores, I’m not angry, sad, afraid, or confused.
I’m jealous.
I venture down the trail to the beach, past the black rock and onto green grass, daring myself to go farther than I did the day before. The ratio of sand to grass at my feet increases with each step, and I know I’m getting very close, but the dense foliage around me masks any view of the ocean beyond. I turn a corner and see it, a long stretch of sand ahead. Squinting, I try to spot something on the sand, anything. A shoe, a piece of the shuttle. A body. Any evidence of Theron. But there is nothing.
A few more steps, and the blue of the water finds its way to the corner of my vision. I force my eyes down, but it doesn’t help. Panic has taken over. A gust of wind blows over my nearly bald head, bringing with it the sharp smell of salt, and I step backwards. The breeze soothes the sting of my sunburned skin but does nothing to appease my fear.
Defeated, I retreat to the homestead and climb into what Pua tells me is a hammock, tucked into the greenery near the giant canoe. It’s dusk now, and the air is getting cooler by the minute.
Nibbling at a piece of fried bread I saved from dinner, I watch people come and go from the house. They’re here to visit the new baby born a few days ago and to congratulate Miri and her family. I’ve had enough new things to last me a while and decide being alone might be better than trying to learn a million new names, nicknames, and titles of extended family and friends.
I close my eyes and continue to swing, listening to the faint sound of waves lapping on the sand in the distance. I’ve grown used to it, I think, the sound of the ocean. I wonder how long it will be until the sight of it doesn’t overwhelm me with terror.
“Where’s your hair?” a small voice whispers at my ear.
I open my eyes and see . . . a child. I try to scramble backwards on the hammock, but it swings, threatening to dump me over the side. I move back to the center to avoid falling off. I’ve never seen a child before, at least not since I was one. They’re just smaller versions of adults—I know this. But it doesn’t prepare me for the oddity of seeing one out in the open instead of inside a Batch tower.
“Are you sick?” he asks, touching my head. His hands are small and sticky and feel peculiar on my skin. “Don’t worry,” he says with a pat of his hand. “It’s growing back nicely.”
He crawls into the hammock with me, and I shift to give him room. He’s not shy, that’s for sure.
“I’m Hemi,” he says, pointing to his chest.
“Hemi,” I whisper. He’s the one Miri sent away for a few days. I can’t help but smile. He looks like a mini version of Kai with dark curls that fall into his face and big, light brown eyes.
“Are you the one?” he whispers. “The one Daddy found at the beach?” His sentences rise up at the end like the rest of his family, but from Hemi, it doesn’t sound foreign at all. It fits him.
I nod. “I’m Nine.”
He grins from ear to ear. “You came from the sea. Are you a mermaid?”
“Mermaid?”
“Yeah. Mermaids are half-fish, half-girl. They have a fish tail, but when they come on land it turns into legs.”
I shake my head.
“You’re too nice to be a mermaid anyway. In some stories they’re mean creatures. You don’t look mean.” Hemi touches my nose. “Your skin is peeling. I don’t think mermaids can get sunburned.”
“I am definitely not a mermaid, then.”
Hemi smiles, and it’s contagious.
“How old are you, Hemi?”
“Seven. But I’ll be eight in just three months.” I like how he’s so sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin. It’s as though he’s exactly who he’d always intended to be.
“And you’re a big brother now, no?”
Hemi beams. “Yes. Mom says I need to be a big boy. That’s why I’m moving into Kai’s room tonight.”
Tonight? He’s come home to stay, then. I admit, I’m glad. Hemi’s little smile helps me relax. Looking into his face, it’s as though there’s nothing frightening in the world at just this moment. I could get used to this feeling.
“Hemi!” Kai calls from the front of the house. He glares at me, and I have the distinct feeling he doesn’t approve of me interacting with his younger brother. Just like he glares at me when I wake, glares at me when I’m in the kitchen—or in the garden, or by the water-well, or . . . in the hammock. Glares at me when I breathe.
“See you later, Nine.” Hemi jumps off and runs to the house.
Kai waits to make sure he gets there before they both enter the building. Not without a fierce look at me first, though. When they’re gone, I try to mimic Kai’s look—my nose and eyes scrunch together, my shoulders press back and my chest juts out, daring anyone to mess with me. It takes a lot of effort to be so sour, and it kind of hurts my back. I laugh and drop the threatening stance. I think of Theron and wonder if males are prone to violence as a whole.
I’m not the only one fortunate to be on the receiving end of Kai’s pleasant manner. He gets angry whenever anyone starts to tell me something he doesn’t think I should know. Or if I go missing for more than thirty seconds. Or if Miri asks if I want to hold the baby. It’s like I’ve been sent by his worst enemy to tear his world apart, piece by piece. I don’t understand his animosity or what I did or didn’t do to deserve it. I thought after our conversation outside Miri’s room he would at least start treating me like a human, but no such luck. I plan to avoid him as much as possible. At least as much as one can avoid someone they are forced to live, eat, and work with.
I sigh and sink back down into the hammock. The sky is growing dark. Slowly, one by one, the stars begin to appear. It’s a clear night with no clouds, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve been out at night since arriving five days ago. The stars continue to pierce the black, and with a gasp I realize Theron was right. There are thousands of stars here in the middle of the ocean, away from electric lights. I try to pick out patterns in the lights, but there
are so many, it’s overwhelming. I wonder if Theron is up there, somewhere among them, looking down at me.
“I miss you,” I tell the night. I inhale and can almost smell him, the scent of his skin next to mine. Feel the beat of his heart with my head on his chest. Hear the familiar snore-breath-whistle that used to lull me to sleep. “I miss you so much.” I wipe at my face and sit up on the hammock. I look toward the house and gasp, holding my hand to my chest to calm my racing heart. Kai is there, not ten feet away from me.
His eyes widen, and he looks at his shuffling feet. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hesitates, looks at me with drawn brows, then turns to head back to the house. “My mom asked me to get you,” he says as he leaves. “Everyone’s gone now.”
I watch him walk into the house before I finally stand and follow.
* * *
“We’ve set you up in Hemi’s old room.” Miri fluffs a pillow at the head of a bed covered in blue and yellow sheets. An old quilt sits folded at the foot end.
“I’m fine on the couch,” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your home now . . . for as long as you like.” Miri pulls a black shade over the window on the far side of the room. They do the same thing to all the windows at night, though I’ve no idea why.
She catches me staring. “It’s safer this way.”
That explains nothing, only makes me afraid of what they’re trying to hide from.
“If you want to open it while you sleep, you can. Just make sure the light’s out before you do.” She points to a lantern on a corner table. “Hemi’s in Kai’s room, across the hall. And though the baby’s still with me, once he’s sleeping through the night he’ll move in with Pua.”
I look around the room and smile. It does remind me of Hemi, and I’m glad of it, though I feel bad for kicking him out. On one side there are boxes stacked in no particular pattern, each overflowing with balls, toys, books . . . things I remember having loved once, as a child.
“We’ll get his stuff moved over soon.”