Lost Past

by Teresa McCullough

  He harvested fruit. There was no protein, but the green tomatoes would give him calories and moisture. He harvested selectively, not taking too much from any location. The mechanical picker ignored him and no one was visible. He climbed back down to spend another night in a cave.

  The next morning, he climbed up to the garden again. It was easy to cross over the city there, but he had only explored a portion of the wall. He climbed up to if he could spot the land he saw in the distance. He didn’t, but found a bit of land below the wall, larger than anything he found before. He climbed down as far as he could and then jumped.

  There was a doorway in the wall. There was a little purple vegetation on the tiny peninsula, but no visible animals. The land was large enough to build a typical suburban house, complete with a back yard, but not large enough for there to be neighbors. He was able to go a bit away from the city and look it over. The walls around the base of the city were partially native rock and partially built up. There was a doorway built into a cement wall, raised a couple of yards above high tide. He tried it, found it unlocked and cautiously entered. All the doors he saw in the city were sliding doors, but this was a conventional door. The ceiling was too low for him and the only light came from the doorway. He had to walk crouched to avoid bumping his head as he went through the underbelly of the city.

  He left the door open, but when night fell, it gave him inadequate light. He considered finding an outer wall and following it to an exit, but decided to stay. It was warmer inside, and the nights were cool. He felt his way past two stairways. He wanted to go up and check on Linda and Cara, but he knew he would be spotted at once, since his clothing was filthy and torn in a few places. He couldn’t imagine how his presence would help them, and he might get them into more trouble, since the authorities might assume they were helping him, and he was a fugitive.

  A light appeared at a third stairway and two people descended. He wondered whether he should run or not, but in the darkness with the low ceiling, running was not an option. He froze in position, not risking moving around because he wasn’t sure he could be silent. It turned out they were repairing some plumbing. They weren’t happy about it, but the job didn’t take long, although it seemed like an eternity to John. They went up, not noticing him. He resolved to stay away from the stairs.

  His need for food and water led him to leave the cellar of the city. It was raining and windy. He drank from a small puddle of water near the door. He stood up and there was a mouthless Plict standing nearby. He froze. The Plict gestured for him to follow, and he did. The Plict led him back inside the city’s cellar, using a flashlight to find his way. He showed him a pipe with a faucet. Turning it on at a drip, John drank his fill. The Plict beckoned him to follow and showed him a conveyor belt that came from some outside location. Since John hadn’t circumnavigated the city, he wasn’t surprised there was another entrance he hadn’t found. There were boxes on a conveyer belt, leading into the city. The Plict pulled one box off the belt and opened it, and pulled out a food bar, which he handed to John. The Plict gestured, “Eat. Take more.” John ate one bar hungrily, and grabbed the box, thanking the Plict. He was surprised he knew the gestures, but he obviously did. The Plict gestured for him to follow, and John obeyed.

  The Plict took a rock and wrote in the dirt on the beach, “Are you Arthur Saunders?”

  John moved to take the rock, but the Plict put his three-fingered hand to where his mouth should be and with fingers out, mimicked speaking.

  “I am John Graham. Also known as Zhexp. Do you understand me?” John said.

  The Plict indicated affirmative before giving him the flashlight, and writing, “Shake to recharge.” He then dived into the ocean and disappeared.

  John crisscrossed the city and found four stairways, which appeared to be all of them, allowing him to avoid them. There was also the base of a water purifying plant attached to an outer wall. He then found a tiny room, which was perfect to hide in. There was a cot, and even plumbing, but there was years of dust in the room. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make the room soundproof, which made him more comfortable about living there, although there was no lock inside the door. He slept there, feeling more secure than he had in the cave. When he rested enough, he looked over the room more carefully. It locked from the outside.

  He wanted to disable the lock, but didn’t know how. The lock made him want to look more carefully at the room. Bolted to a wall next to the cot was a chain, hidden under the cot. A broken link at the end of the chain told its history. The link hadn’t been cut, but worn, tediously and carefully by rubbing it against something, possibly another link. This was not a refuge, it was a prison.

  Natalie’s prison. The computer hadn’t told him where they kept her, only that she was kept in secret. Where else could one keep a secret in this hive? He was not confined as she was, but he was imprisoned where she was. There was a storm outside, but it didn’t matter. He had nowhere to go.

  CHAPTER 11

  Before Linda could take advantage of the unrestricted computer access allowed by the reboot, a woman they hadn’t met opened the door. “Hello, I am Judit,” she said. “We need your help.”

  “Why should we help you?” asked Cara. “We’re prisoners.”

  “Because we’re dying and you caused it.”

  Wilson said, “I think you better explain.”

  “You brought the flu. We don’t have the immunities, because we’ve lived here for centuries without illness.”

  “I didn’t exactly come voluntarily,” Cara said. “The responsibility for the flu lies with Hernandez and his clones.”

  “We know that,” Judit said. “They are confined to their apartments and we can’t let them out even in this emergency.”

  “Did you hold a trial?” asked Wilson. “If so, why weren’t we called as witnesses?”

  “There was no trial,” Judit said. “The Plict told us to confine them.” And that seemed to trump any legalities.

  “John should help, since he’s a doctor. He probably is immune to the flu,” Linda said. John never got sick.

  Ever since John left, Linda had a constant awareness of him. She knew he was unhappy but didn’t know the details. She didn’t want to tell Wilson or Cara about it, because she doubted they would believe her. Wilson wasn’t even sure John was on their side, but Linda knew John cared about them. Well, he cared about her and Cara. She doubted he cared about Wilson.

  “John Graham disappeared days ago,” said Judit. “His transponder stopped working. We assume he drowned.”

  First my father and then John, Linda thought. They really can’t keep track of the people they kidnap. John’s movements showed varying distances, inconsistent with his being confined or dead. Once he seemed quite close, and Linda got a fleeting thought of green tomatoes, which wasn’t very enlightening, but she assumed he was somewhere above them near the strawberries. Wilson appeared indifferent to the claim of John’s death, but Cara was clearly upset. Linda wanted to reassure her, but couldn’t without endangering John.

  Wilson asked Cara, “What should they be doing to fight the flu?”

  Cara appeared to pull herself together in spite of the report of John’s death. Linda wasn’t sure if she put it aside, or didn’t believe John was dead. “Go to Earth and buy Tamiflu,” Cara said. Tamiflu was in English. When Judit looked confused, Cara explained, “It’s a medicine that helps cure the flu.”

  “The Plict told us we can’t go to Earth. We wanted to get drugs and vaccine, but they said we behaved irresponsibly and have recalled the ship. Hernandez and his clones aren’t allowed to leave their apartment, and they’re the only ones with immune systems that can fight the flu. We’ve shut down everything and have a complete quarantine. No one is allowed to do anything or go anywhere. Yet some things must be done.”

  “It’s only been a couple of days. How many people are sick? How many died?” Linda asked.

  “Baldur died. You’ve met him. He’s the o
nly one who’s dead, but Katrine, Reidar, and three others are probably not going to make it. The trouble is they’ve probably each exposed dozens of people each. We’re on a complete lockdown. We have over sixty people with symptoms and who knows how many have been exposed.”

  “Of course we’ll help,” said Cara. Linda wasn’t sure that “of course” applied.

  “I think we need some reassurances first,” Wilson said. Wilson’s thoughts came clearly to Linda: They’ll let us help them, but they’ll never let us go back. They think we’re animals with no rights, and they’ll treat us that way.

  So this is what it’s like, Linda thought. Mom warned me. Damn! Damn! Damn! Why did he have to be so sexy? It’s propinquity, not love. I didn’t want this to happen. I haven’t avoided men all my life for this to happen now.

  Linda didn’t pay attention to Wilson’s and Cara’s brief argument, with Judit supporting Cara, but she trusted Wilson’s judgment enough to side with him. Besides, she knew she loved him. Hormones over logic!

  “Cara is too weak to do much,” said Linda, supporting Wilson. “Wilson and I disagree with Cara and won’t do anything. I want formal recognition that we have the same rights as any citizen. Also, I want us sent back at the first opportunity.” She added after a thought from Wilson, with hardly a pause, “I want us treated at an ambassador level, with no right to do us any harm, except to return us to home.”

  She glanced at Wilson, and felt a brief satisfaction at his startled look. The headache came then, not quite incapacitating her, but bad enough. She did manage to add, “If John turns up, I want him allowed to return to Earth with us if that is what he wants.” This was enough for Cara to change sides in the argument. Linda went back to her cot and lay there, confident that Cara would support John’s cause. Judit agreed, although Linda wasn’t sure an agreement would be honored.

  Linda was surprised she fell asleep, but awakened when Judit came back with a contract, meeting their terms, one of which was a formal broadcast signing ceremony. There was a religious ceremony first, with the head of state presiding. At least it felt like a religious ceremony, with music and responses from the miniscule audience. Wilson, Linda, and Cara were prompted on the proper responses and assured that they would not be taken seriously if they didn’t participate. Only Judit, the head of state, and two other people were there. The corridors were eerily empty.

  “What do you need us to do?” Wilson asked Judit after the ceremony.

  “The food delivery is jammed. The workers who clear the jam are all sick. We can’t get the jam clear and keep the quarantine.”

  The four of them went down a stairway into the basement level. All of them had to walk partially bent over because of the low ceilings, but Wilson had more height to erase. Judit grabbed a box on the conveyor belt, pulled it open, grabbed a bar of food, and ate it. Cara sat by a computer terminal and relayed instructions while Linda and Wilson cleared the jam.

  “How often does this have to be done?” Wilson asked.

  “Maybe every ten days. I’m not sure.” Judit coughed into the box of food bars, not covering her mouth. Wilson and Linda exchanged a glance.

  “I know I'm coming down with it, but someone has to clear the jam. None of us have eaten since yesterday.” Judit closed the box and started to put it back on the conveyor belt, but Wilson stopped her.

  “You’re going to contaminate the whole food supply,” said Cara from behind Judit.

  Linda realized that, with no infectious diseases, there were no rules for the prevention of the spread of disease.

  After briefly explaining the germ theory of disease, Cara suggested that healthy guidelines be broadcast. Judit proposed a popular actor should demonstrate hand washing and covering coughs. Remembering Wilson’s cynicism, Linda said that it might be dangerous to bring anyone out of quarantine for that. She wanted the Vigintees to be in the habit of following their instructions. It wouldn’t hurt that those who didn’t follow the instructions would either contribute to the epidemic or be more likely to get sick themselves.

  When they returned to the main floor, Wilson carried the box of food Judit coughed into. Judit led them to another anonymous door, which opened to a television studio. “You can film in here. There are some cameras over . . .” She stopped and gave a slight shriek. There was a body on the floor.

  Cara crouched beside the body and touched the skin. “He’s been dead for hours. Is there a place I can wash my hands?”

  Judit pointed. As Cara left, Linda started to feel nausea. She glanced at Wilson, who seemed unaffected. He’s seen bodies before, she realized, and they probably died by violence.

  “I shouldn’t be infecting the hallways,” Judit said, with belated realization.

  “If I remove the body, could you stay here?”

  Judit nodded. She retrieved a camera and gave brief instructions on its use and how to broadcast the ads. She also told Wilson where to dispose of the body.

  By the time Wilson returned with a stack of fresh clothing and took a shower, Cara and Linda had written the first health ad.

  Before they recorded the ad, Linda felt John leave. It wasn’t as rapid a change in distance as when he drove a car away, but it was faster than a walk. John felt more peaceful while leaving than he felt in days, but frustratingly, Linda had no idea what was going on.

  That evening, Linda remembered the computer. If this were Earth, she thought, I would Google myself. Why not? I’m sure there’s a search engine.

  She found one and searched for herself. The first entry was in a write-up of Natalie Saunders’ kidnapping. Linda was mentioned in passing as a child left behind. They believed Natalie had telepathy and wanted to verify it. They would come in, thinking about something and if she couldn’t come up with the answer, they would torture her. Linda had tears in her eyes as she read it. Mom told them, but they didn’t believe her. She had to love someone to read them, and there was no way she could love her torturers.

  As Linda read the details, her childhood memories of Mom’s explanations came back. Half the women in my family, Mom explained, “It’s not a gift; it’s a curse. Be careful whom you love, because you will probably be disappointed. I was incredibly lucky to find Arthur, because he mainly thinks about physics, and that’s not a problem. My sister tried to teach, because she loved children, but the telepathy drove her mad and she committed suicide.”

  Linda also remembered all the times as a child when her mother knew what she was thinking. Before Mom told her, she once tried to explain this to a teacher, and the teacher’s indulgent, but dismissive attitude still stung.

  Wilson came in and saw her crying. He looked at the screen, but Linda closed the window before he could read more than a few lines.

  “Linda, I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Linda knew his sympathy was genuine, but his words were trite and meaningless. “It was a long time ago, and at least now I know for sure that she didn’t desert us. And no, it won’t help if you put your arms around me, and it won’t incapacitate me.”

  “You read my mind,” Wilson said.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want lie to him. It wasn’t fair, since he would have trouble lying to her.

  He was startled by her response and stared at her. Finally, he said, “I don’t mean now, but about the ambassador stuff.”

  “Yes,” Linda said.

  “I expected you to talk about great minds thinking alike, or some crap like that, but that ambassador stuff was too specific. Why aren’t you reading everyone’s mind and reporting on it? For that matter, what am I thinking?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “It’s erratic and . . .” She might as well tell him, she decided. “Often it’s just a fleeting thought I read, but it only works when I love someone.” She didn’t give him time to let it sink in. “I could read my father’s mind sometimes, but he almost always had his mind on the present or on physics. Tom spent an awful amount of time thinking about sex. I was glad when he went away
to college, because it was kind of yucky. John, well, John figured out I could read minds and was too disciplined to think inappropriate things in my presence. I knew he was concealing things, but I didn’t know what.” She kept going, not wanting to hear what he said. “Mom warned me about it. She said it came for her at puberty, and she could see I was going to get it. I didn’t really believe her. I mean, she sometimes figured out what I was thinking, but I thought that was normal Mom stuff.”

  “What am I thinking now?” he asked again.

  “I can’t always do it. When I first read you, it gave me a horrible headache. Mom says the headaches go away, but the first time with any one person is the worst.”

  “What am I thinking?” He was persistent, she had to give him that.

  “You’re right.”

  “I’m right about what?”

  “I am a virgin because I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. And yes, I know it’s a sexual attraction based on our being confined together. No, it didn’t start when I watched you exercise, but earlier when you trusted me with your gun, even though I was the only choice. And your first name is Suriel, which you hate, but I saw that when I peeked at your driver’s license when you were in the shower. You don’t tell it to anyone and call yourself Sam. Will you stop thinking about how I’m going to be in bed, because it’s not going to happen.”