Reaping

by Makansi, K.

  “We’ll remember him,” Luis says, but his voice lacks the empathetic ring Rose’s carries. Watching the two of them, I can almost see the effect of the Dieticians’ drugs, and how differently they’ve taken hold in these two people: Luis is blank, emptied, more like the girl with the hollow eyes I saw today. Rose, though, has spring in her step and life in her voice. I can already see her as an ally, or better yet—a friend.

  “To the dead who give life,” the three of them say in unison. I remember the refrain from a long time ago, a memorial to those buried whose decomposition gives back to the soil what was taken during life.

  “Why’d you come back, Bear?” Rose asks, again. Bear glances at me, hesitating, as though expecting me to answer this question for him. This is his moment—these are his friends.

  “I came back,” he says, slowly, “because Remy and I have an important message to bring to you.”

  “Important?” Luis asks. “More important than Sam?”

  “You’re a wanted man, now, Bear. Boss’ll shoot you on sight if they ID you here.”

  Ma amie Remy isn’t just any old person from the Wilds. This here’s Remy Alexander.”

  Bear pauses and waits for these words to sink in. Rose and Luis turn towards me, and Luis especially seems to lean in to stare at me, scrutinizing my features. I suddenly feel as though I’m under a microscope. Thankfully it’s too dark for them to examine every freckle on my face.

  “Remy Alexander? Daughter of Gabriel Alexander?” Rose asks.

  “Tai’s sister? The one Sam was always on about?”

  “That’s the one,” Bear says. “Remy and I are here on Sam’s account and on Tai’s. We’re here because putting people on silo duty isn’t the only thing Boss been doing to hurt people in the Sector. They killed Tai and Remy’s mom, too. We believe that you deserve to know why Sam was put on Silo duty, and why my family has been torn in half. And we want your help to change things around here.”

  “But everything’s fine here,” Luis exclaims, stepping closer to Rose as if for confirmation and support. Bear motions for us all to sit, sensing the rising tension.

  “Have there been any other accidents since Sam left?” Bear asks. Rose and Luis look at each other.

  “Well,” Rose begins. “I don’t know if this is an accident, but Andre disappeared last month. Bosses said he went senile and escaped. He was pretty old.”

  “Andre was going to turn forty-five this year,” Bear begins. “In the capital, that’s still young. Folks in Okaria get to be lots older, like eighty or ninety. I learned that when I escaped and came to the Re-”

  I interrupt him again before he can say it. “My grandfather died when he was eighty seven. I bet Andre wasn’t senile at all, and that was just an excuse that the Bosses told you. Was Andre asking questions like Sam was?”

  “Not about Tai or anything,” Rose says. “But he kept on talking about how it wasn’t right that Sam was sent to the silos.”

  Luis nods, taking everything in.

  Bear takes a breath. “The Bosses just as good as killed Sam and they might have hurt Andre, too. They might also be covering up for when things go wrong and people get hurt, when people get killed. It might be indirect, but it is killing even so.”

  “There’s more,” I say. “The Bosses are feeding you special food that’s completely different from the food people in the city get to eat. I grew up eating food that made me smarter, faster, healthy. The food was designed special for me. That’s why I was able to go to the Okarian Academy, because the Sector groomed me to be smart enough to attend the Academy. Bear almost got the chance to go, too. They took him from the Farm and put him in a special school, but then, just as quickly, they changed their minds sent him back here.”

  “When I returned and started eating Farm food again,” Bear says, “everything I learned at school started fading away. At first I was upset and angry that I couldn’t live at the nice school and that I couldn’t do maths so quick any more, and that I started forgetting all the big words I’d learned in class. My mind felt all muddled, and then, after a while, it didn’t even bother me anymore. It was all sort of like a dream—someone else’s dream, not even my own. And when I left the Farms with Sam, it kinda cleared up. I wasn’t so muddled up, could think better somehow.”

  “All that’s because of the food?” Rose asks.

  “Exactly. Food designed by the Dieticians to turn you into the kind of Farm worker the Sector wants,” I say.

  “But I'm proud to work on the Farms. Not everyone needs to live in the city, and go to the Academy.” Luis says.

  Yes, Luis,” I continue. “But shouldn't everyone have the opportunity to choose? Your food is specifically designed to make you not care about having your own choices. It is designed to increase your endurance and your strength, which is good for laboring on the farm, but your body isn’t meant to grow so fast, to be worked so hard. Like Bear said, people in the capital, and even in the factory towns, live much longer. If your friend Andre lived in the city, he might live for forty more years.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being strong,” Luis looks at Rose, and I can sense the hesitance, the hint of fear, in his frown. “But I don’t want to die sooner than everyone else. Me and Rose … I don’t want to leave her. That’s not fair.” Rose nods her assent and looks at us to continue.

  “No, it’s not fair,” I say. “But now, Bear and I are eating the same food, and it hasn’t been modified by the Sector Dieticians. It’s natural, healthy, comes straight from the earth, and doesn’t come in a MealPak. We cook it ourselves.”

  Bear pulls out some of our provisions from his pack and spreads it in front of Luis and Rose. “Please, try it. It’s very tasty.”

  Rose reaches for a slim strip of jerky but Luis hesitates.

  “We have more, if you like it,” I say. “We have enough that you can give some to your friends, as well.”

  We hope that even a little bit of natural food, a little push from us, will open their minds just enough to start questioning things on their own. Why they’re not allowed into the Dietician’s lab. Why they’re not allowed to talk about Tai Alexander’s death. Why the folks who visit the Farms look and act so different from them. Why the Bosses live longer than the workers. Why they can’t make their own decisions on when to have children and with whom, and why their families are broken apart.

  “I don’t feel different.” Rose says, after they’ve finished the plate Bear set out.

  “But it tastes good,” Luis pats his belly in a gesture of satisfaction.

  Bear chuckles. “It doesn’t work straightaway. In fact, if you stop eating the Farm food altogether, you will get sick before you get better. It’s called withdrawal.”

  “Like fixing a broken bone. It hurts while it heals, but then it’s all better,” I add.

  Bear gazes off toward the Farm campus in the distance. Luis and Rose sit in companionable silence while I fidget and play with the hem of my shirt. I glance at Bear, in a what now? gesture. Not that I expected some dramatic change of heart, but this lack of any response at all is unsettling.

  “Would you like to meet again tomorrow night?” Bear asks, finally. “I can tell you more about what’s happened to me since I left, and I’d like to hear about what’s been happening here.”

  Rose glances up at Luis and says, “We would like that very much.”

  “If you can help it,” Bear adds, “try not to eat your MealPaks tomorrow. You may feel a little nausea, but that will pass. We’ll send the rest of this food with you. But don’t let the Bosses see you.” He hands over the bag of food we prepared for them, and Luis takes it, even as a frown of confusion and hesitance shadows his face. “We’ll have more for you tomorrow evening,” Bear continues. “We’ll make sure you get plenty to eat.”

  “Bear, are you sure…?”

  “I promise. You’ve both known me since I was just a kid, and you know I would never lie to you. The MealPaks are not good for you. This food
is much better. It’s good for all of you—your body and your mind. And I wouldn’t know about it if not for Sam. If you listen to me, if you trust me, it’s only because Sam was brave enough to ask the questions that finally led me to the truth.”

  “We’ll try your food tomorrow, Bear,” the big man says. “And we’ll meet you again tomorrow night. After that, we’ll have to see.”

  “That’s all we can ask,” I say.

  ‘Thank you,” Bear says as we all stand to leave. “Your trust means everything to me.”

  “Until tomorrow.” Rose gives Bear one last hug before the two workers disappear back into the night.

  13 - VALE

  Spring 6, Sector Annum 106, 06h47

  Gregorian Calendar: March 25

  Commandeering Normandy’s best airship was a study in choreographed theft. Once the Director realized we were gone—and gone together—we were out of range for her to do anything about it but rage. And rage she did. If the Sector was able to intercept our communications, I’m sure they had a field day listening to her dress us all down. I joked that even Aulion would have enjoyed that transmission. As soon as I made the quip about him, however, Soren spun around, jammed his finger in—and almost through—my chest and told me in no uncertain terms to “never ever joke about that man in his presence” or he'd see that I didn't live to regret it. That was the first time in at least six hours he’d threatened me with a painful death.

  We’re making progress, Soren and me. Practically best friends.

  If we weren’t all worried about Remy and Bear and their, as Soren keeps putting it, “harebrained scheme,” I’d almost be glad to be back above ground. Up in the cockpit, Miah and Firestone are going over the airship’s controls, talking about our cloaking and stealth tech, and how to hone our radar and electromagnetic sensors to make it easier to find them. Jahnu and Kenzie sit together while they disassemble, clean, and reassemble everyone’s weapons—a wide assortment of which we “borrowed” from Normandy’s supply room. Eli has his V scroll out and we’re trying to figure out exactly where Remy might be.

  We’re not even a half hour out when Miah points out that the airship is dangerously low on water. Without clean water to run the airship’s cooling systems, the reactor core will overheat and reach temperatures high enough to melt engine components.

  “We’ll have to resupply at a river or a lake,” Miah says nervously. “We need enough open space to land and get the siphon hoses in the water.”

  Normandy’s airship is a smaller-end transport ship, big enough to carry twelve men and up to three thousand kilos of cargo. Landing this ship in a big clearing will leave us open and exposed to any passing drones.

  “I don’t like this,” Firestone mutters. “Don’t wanna drop out of the air if we don’t have to. Not when the Sector’s got drones everywhere.”

  “Well, we have to,” Kenzie says, matter-of-factly, not looking up from the weapon she’s cleaning. “If we want to keep flying, we have to pull water. We’ll just have to make it quick.”

  Soon Miah’s pointing out a likely spot along a small stream, and he and Firestone are lowering the airship out of safe air and into drone space. With all our cloaking gauges cranked as high as they’ll go, Firestone drops the ship into a soft landing.

  “Won’t take but a minute,” Firestone says. “Vale, Soren, cover me while I pull out the hoses?”

  I glance at Soren, who pointedly ignores me.

  “Sure,” I respond, as casually as I can. I go to grab my Bolt from Kenzie’s now-polished stash, but Soren’s already picked it up for me. He tosses it at me, a little more forcefully than necessary, before slinging his own over his shoulder. I turn, palm open the hatch, and jump out. Firestone and Soren follow.

  The sandy little spot we’ve landed on gives way to forest about twenty-five meters in. The water is shallow, but the water is moving quickly, which will help us pick up clean water for the airship.

  Firestone ducks beneath the belly of the ship, opening one of the panels and pressing a few buttons. In a minute, the siphon hoses are stretching out and down as Firestone guides them to the source.

  Soren and I stand a little ways apart, on either side of the stream, watching each other as much as our surroundings. I imagine the emptiness of the woods around us is getting to me as I feel eyes watching me, and not just Soren’s. There’s a prickling sensation at the nape of my neck, and I try to focus on the trees and the sky above them, reminding myself that drones could set upon us at any minute.

  And then I see them. My eyes meet another’s, round and child-like, the whites of them so stark against a small dirty, smudged face I can’t believe I didn’t see them before.

  The child breaks eye contact with a flurry of movement, and dashes to my left, disappearing behind a bush.

  “Who’s there?” Soren says, loudly. His gun is up and pointed at the shaking leaves.

  “It’s a kid,” I say, putting my hand up to him, motioning to him to wait. I take a few slow steps towards the tree line. Soren doesn’t lower his weapon, but he doesn’t make any attempt to move, either.

  “What’s going on?” Firestone demands from under the airship.

  “Hello?” I call. “It’s okay, you can come out. We won’t hurt you.”

  Nothing moves. I take a few more steps forward, my gun slung behind my back, hands out, palms up. I hear Soren behind me, his boots making little slurping noises as he wades across the stream. I glance back. His gun’s still up, though he looks more curious than threatening.

  “Put your Bolt away, Soren.” He glares, obviously not keen on taking orders from me. I can see the momentary indecision as he tries to figure out whether to do as I’ve said or to continue waving a large weapon at a child. After a second, he lets the gun fall to his side, and he holds his hands out as I’ve done.

  “Are you hurt?” I say to the underbrush. “Look, we’ve put our guns away. We won’t hurt you.”

  Five heartbeats pound in my chest before an older man, maybe thirty, steps out from behind a tree, with a little girl, no more than five years old, clutched tightly in his arms. He’s at least as dirty as the girl, who must be his daughter, with bits of leaves in his hair and worn clothes that look like standard-issue Farm work wear. Back and forth, he regards Soren and me, muscles working along his clenched jaw. Another three heartbeats, and a woman stands up from where she was apparently lying behind a bush, her hair mussed and looking like it hasn’t had a good comb in a long, long time.

  “Who are you?” the man demands.

  Soren and I glance at each other, and for a second I think we’ll share our first real laugh together. We are two of the most recognizable faces in all of Okaria. But the creases of a smile disappear, and he turns back to the disheveled little group in front of us.

  “You don’t know?” he asks them. It is possible that they wouldn’t know us, if they were Outsiders, or vagabonds, among the stragglers who have slipped through the Sector’s fingers and live in the empty spaces on the maps. But the man and the woman both have their high-calf Farm boots on, which makes me think they’re runaways.

  Recognition dawns on the man, and his jaw drops slowly, as he stares back at the two of us, the son of the Chancellor and the son of a former Chancellor, standing together in the middle of the Wilds, both of us undoubtedly looking quite a bit different than the last time we appeared on Sector broadcasts.

  “But—you, you’re … Evander said you … your father said—”

  “Never mind what Evander or my father said. We can help you,” I say, as gently as I can. “Is that your daughter?”

  The man nods at me, wordlessly, as the woman slowly creeps to his side. The little girl’s eyes have never left my own.

  “You look like you need food and shelter and warmer clothes than what you’ve got. What are your names?”

  He clutches his daughter and steps back. “Names? Why should we trust you? What are you doing out here?” His hands are shaking. “The Chancellor sai
d you’ve been kidnapped and here you are with Bolts and an airship out in the Wilds. With him!” He points at Soren. “You could make us go back there for all we know.”

  Soren and I find ourselves on the same side of the Sector lies and at a loss as to how to explain why we’re together out in the Wilds. Just then, the woman points and gasps, clutching at the man’s arm.

  “The terrorist!” she says wildly. “That’s him! He kidnapped them!”

  I turn, confused, following her finger back to the airship, where Miah has just dropped out of the hatch and is staring at us, utterly baffled. I almost laugh out loud, watching Miah’s bearded face scrunch up in confusion at the scene in front of him. Soren, of course, spares not a breath for decorum, and actually does start laughing. It doesn’t take long, though, before he takes a deep breath and turns back to the renegades in front of us, trying to explain.

  “No, listen to me,” he implores, his hands wide, palms up. “The Sector wants you to think that Jeremiah Sayyid kidnapped us, kidnapped Vale. But Vale and I—” he looks at me with grudging acknowledgment “—came out here because we wanted to. We left the Sector willingly. Jeremiah is our friend. We don’t work for the Sector anymore, and, from the looks of it, you don’t either. We can help you. We can get you somewhere safe, with food and clean water and warm clothes.”

  “You obviously know who we are,” I say. “Why don’t you tell us your names? Believe me, the last thing we’re going to do is turn you over to the same Sector forces hunting us.”

  The woman rubs her temples as if her head hurts and wobbles a bit, and he wraps his free arm around her and pulls her to his side. She shakes her head, confused. “If you’re not kidnapped, if you left willingly, why are they saying those things and why are they hunting you?”

  “It’s a long story—” I start.

  “They want to find us, arrest us, and try us for treason,” Soren interrupts. “A group of individuals in the OAC and the government are controlling Sector citizens by manipulating the food supply. We aim to stop them and they’re none too happy about it.”