by Korn, Tracy
"If they were grown from their own cells, why would they need biotecnics?"
"That's what Jax and Ellis wanted to know too, but when they asked, the Gaia people just kept telling them to start mixing, showed them this timer and told them if they didn't have things configured before it counted out, everyone was going to die. Outer ring, no?"
"That's split. What did they do?" I ask, impatient for him to go on.
"They figured out how to mix it all, then had bracelets clapped on and were sent to the shuttle like the rest of us. Jax said they wouldn't answer any questions when he came out of it, even acted like they didn't hear him asking."
"He didn't tell me any of this." I say, a twinge pulling in my chest.
"No time with everyone else locked down the way they were. You saw Fraya."
"Do you know her story?" I ask, and he raises his eyebrows.
"Who do you think had to harvest the original cells, splice them to regrow, then reattach all the people-pieces they used in Jax's and Ellis's interviews?"
"No…they wouldn't. She's not a surgeon."
"Jax and Ellis aren't molecular programmers. Avis isn't a meteorologist. Hart's not a pilot."
I let this settle into my mind, and what bubbles up in response must be the root of why I've been feeling so displaced today—the missing piece of my highly anticipated and anti-climactic testing experience. I really wanted today to tell me, one way or another, something about who I am.
"What aren't we, Liddick?" I ask.
"I've been trying to figure that out all day," he says, veering from the shoreline to hike another small, nearby dune next to a boathouse that blocks the wind, and I follow. Near the top, he turns to me and offers a hand again. I take it, he pulls me up, and we sit close together on the narrow peak.
"Did Hart tell you about his interview?" Liddick asks.
"Some of it, but he was cagey. Something about running probabilities where he had to choose between saving some of us, and that because he waited too long to fix one of the systems, someone was electrocuted," I say, and Liddick nods. "He was really intense about it," I add, remembering him in the courtyard right afterward.
"You died every time, even when he managed to get to you," he says, leaning over to scoop up a handful of sand. "He was always too late."
"He told you this?" I ask.
"No, Ellis," he says. "Hart's not exactly my biggest fan," he chuckles, letting the sand fall through his fingers. "Not after that day in the cafeteria anyway."
I smile in agreement and pick up my own handful of sand. "What did you even say about Arwyn?" I ask, then shake my head. "No, actually, I don't want to know," I say, holding up one hand to him before he can explain.
"No, you don't," he laughs.
We sit in silence for a few more minutes, and I think about Arco's interview. No wonder he was so obsessive and erratic when he caught up with me afterward. I'd be the same way if every one of my attempts to save a friend wound up that way. It must have been awful for him to feel that no matter what he did, it still wasn't enough.
What I don't understand is why they would put him through something like that? Why put Fraya and Jax through it, but spare Liddick, me and a few of the others?
"Are you afraid of what will happen next?" I say over the sound of the surf in the distance before us. He doesn't say anything at first, just picks up more dune sand and lets it spill through his fingers.
"I guess a little. Not about leaving, though. There's nothing I'll really miss here. Well, breathing without technical support maybe; that's a little daunting," he forces a laugh, and I'm amazed that I hadn't even considered the environmental differences between here and Gaia in my obsession about leaving my family behind. Once again, the obvious sneaks up on me, and I add a new layer of anxiety to my feelings about tomorrow and whatever comes after.
"I didn't even remember that," I say, then shake my head in disbelief.
"Sorry, I meant it as a joke. They've been down there 80 years, Jazz. It's not going to be an issue."
"So, does that mean you're not really afraid after all?"
"I don't know. There's something I couldn't place about those interviewers. I got their vibe and all, could tell what they wanted to hear, but that's all there was to them. Like that interview—me in my interview—I was the only thing there. They were empty; does that make any sense?" he asks, looking over at me again. I stare at him for a second, a little shocked that he's articulated exactly how I felt about them too.
"It does. They just had this singular sense of superiority, except for Ms. Plume, but even she just put out this one-dimensional innocent feeling. It's been bothering me all day that not only could I have had such an easy interview with them, but also that I still feel like there was something missing, or something that I didn't do—information I didn't have that would help me decide how I did in there. I felt like I was just in a holding pattern, you know? Until now, that is. It helps not to be the only one," I say, and feel the weight that's been pressing on my chest finally start to give way.
"Yeah, it does," he says, his blue eyes catching the moonlight as his dark roots disappear under the night sky over his sun-bleached hair, which makes him look like he's only mostly here, like some kind of beach apparition. "Why didn't we work out, Riptide?" he asks, suddenly studying my face, and I manage to catch the surprised laugh before it comes out as a guffaw.
"Because we were 13, Liddick," I say, a few chuckles slipping through despite my efforts.
"So? Kids in some South American villages get married when they're 13 and have 10 of their own kids by the time they're our age."
"That's impossible," I say, picking my own piece of saw grass and shoving into him with my shoulder. "Besides, we're not kids in a South American village, are we?"
"So you're telling me that geography has ruined my life? Geography?" He raises his dark eyebrows, then looks toward the sky for the answer I'm not giving him. I laugh, and, he turns to me, still smiling. "Are you afraid?" he asks, passing me a little red saw grass flower and leaning into me. I'm surprised when the answer I've been fighting with all day finally comes out, and I let my head rest on his shoulder as I take the little flower from in between his fingers and twirl it in my own.
"I think I just feel wary now, not as afraid as I thought I was before," I say as the side of his head touches mine. "What do you think the difference is between those two things? Why would it feel more secure when we still don't really know anything?"
"We do, though," he says, his chin raised against the sea. "We know there's something off about all this—we can see it coming," he nods like he finally believes it. "That's the difference."
CHAPTER 11
Embarking
The silver relay shuttle has already arrived when we get to the dock this morning. It looks almost like the one we take to school, except the rounded walls are windows from the midline up. People from the quadrant and the fringe line the beach to say goodbye to the 12 of us, and when I see Liddick, the smudges under his eyes tell me he hasn't slept much either. I dreamed of the marlin, and then had to convince myself that it actually happened—that my dream was a product of that reality. Liddick must have had a similar experience, and then I remember that he's been having similar experiences for years.
In the distance, against the sunrise, Vox stands near the shore with her sandals in her hand. She's standing perfectly still with her back to the crowd of people surrounding the rest of us. If she does have anyone at home, no one has come to see her off. I scan the beach hopefully for someone with tattoos like hers, someone who could possibly be here looking for her, but I don't find anyone.
"Jazz, will you port-call me?" Nann asks, pushing wind-tossed strands of long dark hair out of her wide brown eyes as she pulls on my shirt and bounces on her toes. I look down at her little face, and the reality of everything arrives like a rainstorm that has been brewing—finally, but suddenly.
"You know I will. We can go to the virtuo-cines together
and you can introduce me to some of the cinestars. Would you like that?" Her face lights up, and my mother smiles at me. I've learned to cover and deflect, to protect them all; she taught me that, and in her light brown eyes I can see her acknowledge it. She smiles, then hugs me.
"I'm so proud of you, Jazwyn. You're going to be so much more than I ever was."
This causes tears to start a slow burn in my eyes, and I blink them back to protest.
"Mom, you have three apprentices helping you run the greenbed, and probably three more for next year. You make a difference for so many people," I say. She smiles, her dark eyebrows drawing together before she hugs me again, and in the silence between us, we say everything we haven't and can't. When she lets me go, she peels Nann from Jax's leg while he feigns rescue.
"I still win! I still win! Interference!" she yells until Jax concedes whatever war they had begun.
"OK, OK, you still win."
"I told you I would. I'm not as ticklish as when I was nine."
"You were just nine last week, Nanobot," he says.
"I know! And that's why you could win then!" She punctuates the claim with her chin in the air, utterly victorious. He laughs and shakes his head, and then our mother hugs him for a long time before letting him go.
The shuttle bay doors open with the sound of hydraulics engaging, and we hear an announcement pour from the intercom.
"GAIA CADETS, PLEASE BEGIN BOARDING THE RELAY SHUTTLE AT THIS TIME."
With a final hug for Nann and our mother, Jax wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we walk toward the bay doors.
"They're going to be OK," Jax says, keeping his eyes straight ahead, and I know he's saying this to himself as much as he is to me.
"I know," I reply, keeping my eyes forward as well. "We'll be OK too."
He squeezes my shoulder, and I lean my head against him all the way out to Gaia's relay dock, watching the shore of our home get smaller and smaller in the distance.
Two men in crisp, white uniforms with a navy stripe running down the sides of the pant legs stand just inside the relay doors, the dome surrounding them wide and gleaming with a submarine about twice the size of the shuttle locked in port behind it. They motion us forward and extend a hand toward our bracelets, scanning them with a wand that turns green at the tip before they let us pass.
"Welcome to Gaia Sur, cadet," they say to each of us as we're scanned in, but they do not look at us. Arco comes up behind us as we walk with the others through the corridor of the dome, which opens into another corridor that ends in a narrow, downward staircase that makes everything look like it just drops off from this angle. The walls are seamless and white, and the soft fog of light bouncing off them makes this seem even more like a dream.
"This is really the submarine,"Arco says from behind me. I turn to see that his eyes are bloodshot and raise my eyebrows in inquiry, but have to look away before I can get his answer when Jax pushes against my shoulder.
"Steps," he says, as I'm about to topple into him. We can only walk two by two down the stairwell, which opens at the bottom into a galley with shiny metal tables built into the left side and narrow steel cabinets behind them. A kitchen area is on the right with a double wide chiller against the back wall and another long metal table in front of it. A small stretch of steel countertop along the same back wall as the chiller gives way to a double sink with more brushed metal cabinets above it. Situated in the middle of the long stretch of countertop on that back wall is a stovetop with a vent reaching down from the ceiling, and next to it is a slab of black marble with several buttons along the side. I swallow the gasp that almost escapes as I realize that this is a matter board! I shouldn't be surprised to see one here, this is Gaia—or at least, almost Gaia—after all, but I've always thought matter boards were just in science fiction cines.
The group in front of Jax and me has fanned out and slowed, and murmurs begin penetrating the air as I elbow Jax to get his attention.
"Jax! That's a matter board—do you think it works?"
"Those aren't real," he says, then looks over to the countertop where I'm pointing with my chin, and his mouth falls open.
"Why would they bother with a stovetop or chiller or anything if they have a matter board?" I ask, and he shakes his head.
"Always have a backup plan," Vox says, suddenly at my side, and I startle. Up close like this she's even more intimidating, and I instinctively take a step back. I tell myself to reply with some casual acknowledgment, but I lock up and can only stare back at her—at the slashes of charcoal colored etchings down the bridge of her nose, and then again at the yellow-green of her eyes, which peer from behind her razor's edge of dark burgundy hair.
"Does it really make anything, like in the cines?" Jax asks her, surprising me with how casual he sounds. She peels her cat eyes away from mine and looks up at him, quirking the side of her mouth into a grin.
"Let's see," she says, and starts walking over to the counter as the rest of us move through the room looking for someone to give us instructions. Panic and excitement flood my veins, and the tips of my fingers turn cold.
"No—I mean, Vox..." I start to call after her, but trip over my own words as I look around for a guard or one of the Gaia representatives from the interviews. I don't even see the men who scanned us in coming down the stairwell. Weren't they right behind us?
By the time I turn around, Vox is already behind the counter pressing a button that creates a soft green light under the marble. I look around in all directions to see if anyone has noticed her, and my stomach falls as I realize that almost everyone has. "Vox, stop. You're going to get us in trouble," I whisper, but she just smirks at me and turns her attention back to the matter board. She looks back to Jax, her finger hovering over the button again.
"What do you want to make?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Jax, tell her—" I start, but he is already answering.
"Ice cream cone."
"Jax!" I hiss, crushing his name between my teeth, which just makes him laugh.
"What? You said to tell her," he says, mocking me.
"I was going to say tell her to stop."
"Come on, it's not like I asked for a parson fish," he replies, smiling as he sees Fraya standing a few feet away. Others laugh, knowing that parson fish don't exist outside of the cines, but then, neither did the matter board until now.
"What's a parson fish?" Vox asks, her smirk giving way to pursed inquiry.
"They walk straight up to you out of the water—one touch and you're on your knees, or whatever is left of your legs," Sarin says from the other side of the room. "So why don't you stop playing with things you don't know anything about, Fringe."
Vox's eyes flash, igniting the spark of tension that was already in the room. Liddick, who is standing next to Sarin, chuckles over the low moan reactions as he crosses to the counter and holds up his hands to Vox like he's going to tell her a joke.
"So these fish were in the last Dice McClain cine, and...wait, what was your name again? Sorry, but I can't remember my own name looking into those eyes," he says, folding his hands over his heart. I would probably roarf if my own heart hadn't already jumped into my throat to block anything that might come back up. He takes a few steps toward her.
"Vox," she says, putting one hand on her hip and tracing the button with the finger of her other.
"Vox, that's it. Voice, from the ancient Latin..." he takes another step toward her, "and that your name means voice makes sense because, I mean, am I right, gentlemen?" He looks around at the boys in the room, then angles his head at Jax, making sure Vox sees him. "Hers is honey, right, Ripley?"
She returns her eyes to Jax, and the corner of her mouth hooks up again as Liddick takes another step toward her.
Jax squirms, "Uh, right. Honey." Vox raises an eyebrow at him. He looks over at Fraya, who covers a smile with her hand, then over to Arco in the stairwell, who shrugs and nods.
"Why don't you sit with us over here so ever
yone can get to know you," Liddick says, slipping around the counter and offering his hand. Instead of taking it, she stops him in his tracks with a narrowed yellow glare, and the blood drains from his face as she pushes the button with her command.
"Parson fish!"
CHAPTER 12
Parson Fish
Vox rips away from the matter board, and the electric blue stripe across its eyes and the muted orange underbelly take shape almost immediately as the green fins begin to twitch, sensing there is no water. They fold down and under like the petals of a wilting flower until they solidify into legs as the coconut sized body drops to a lower center of gravity and spreads out like a crab. After a few steps off the matter board, everyone begins screaming and scattering, knowing that it will only be seconds before the parson fish begins to skitter around the room in search of prey.
"It's real!" Myra yells, and climbs on top of a table behind us. Vox has disappeared in the frenzy, and I feel fingers gripping the sleeves of my jacket from behind me.
"Let's go! Let's go!" Jax shouts, pulling me backward toward the stairwell, but his grip is broken when I stumble and hit the cold metal floor.
"It's locked!" someone yells from the stairwell.
"They've already launched!"
People have started scrambling onto the tables and chairs when I see Arco struggling to get through the fray. He looks at me wide eyed and calls my name, then pushes through all the arms and legs enough to kick a chair in my direction, which slides several feet before it falls sideways and clatters against the ground. The parson fish notices and darts over to me.
"Jazz! Get up!" Arco calls, and I scramble to my feet now that the space around me has cleared, but Sarin has already climbed up onto the chair that Arco slid over to me. I freeze again like I froze in the ocean that day with the jellyfish, the day Arco didn't have to think and just acted. There has to be something I can do, or somewhere else I can go to get away. This thought pounds against unanswered doors in my head as I look around and find no options, only the horrified stares of my classmates, and suddenly everything slows down. Everything gets quiet. I will my legs to run, but they don't move. A numbness falls over my whole body like in a dream as I watch the parson fish flitting on its pointed claws toward me, and in the back of my mind I ask myself if this must be what it feels like when you're about to die. I thought it would be more terrifying. Instead, it's still and quiet even though I see people making screaming faces and throwing hands in my direction.