Office of Mercy (9781101606100)

by Djanikian, Ariel

  “What about fear, then? If they don’t have Walls, they must live in a constant state of fear.”

  “Yes and no,” Jeffrey answered. “Certainly fear is a driving force in their lives, but they’ve found ways of pushing it into the background, covering it over with other ideas. Ultimately, they don’t experience fear in the same way we do because they don’t have the same object of fear. Or if they did once, it’s been morphed beyond recognition.”

  “What object?”

  “The same as always,” Jeffrey said darkly. “Suffering. Death. In the settlement, we never mess around with the truth of those terrifying realities. We let them stand—cold and vast and undeniable. That recognition, that acknowledgment, is an extremely difficult thing. You don’t always realize, because you grew up with this system of thinking. But no human society before the Alphas ever structured itself in stark opposition to these absolutes the way we have. Dared to look them in the eye. It’s what defines us. It’s what makes this the modern age. And it has—this recognition—it’s what allowed us to make such leaps in medical technology and ethics. The sweeps were a revolutionary idea when they came about. So was bioreplacement, the unapologetic pursuit of eternal life. Only by feeling the full force of suffering and death were we able to usher in this world of peace and life. It’s astounding,” he said in a faraway voice. He seemed to be losing himself in his own meditations. “Truly remarkable what the Alphas did.”

  “But we need the Wall,” Natasha prompted.

  “The Wall tames us, for starters,” Jeffrey said, returning from his thoughts. “It blocks out the irrational instincts that nature built into the structure of our brains. Modes of thinking that, after two hundred million years of evolution, are too enmeshed in our genes to cut out. That’s the usage you learned first, what we teach in school. It’s what happened to you after this mission, if you don’t mind my saying. You are perfectly safe in this settlement, and yet some prerational part of your brain is holding on to the sense of danger you felt in the field. In ancient times, this behavior would have been advantageous. It might have kept you from putting yourself in danger again, in the future. You can see, though, how in your situation it’s merely an inconvenience.”

  Natasha nodded.

  “The Wall has an even greater importance in the field of ethics,” Jeffrey continued. “It keeps us from projecting ourselves onto others, as in cases of Misplaced Empathy. Other times it helps us in situations in which the most ethical decision does not match our natural inclination. Like when the tattooed man was killed by the bear. We were forced to allow suffering in the moment in order to prevent greater suffering in the future. Our minds tend to rebel against those sorts of decisions. Or at least they do without learned intervention. We’re evolved to react to immediate harm rather than the harm in some hypothetical, even an extremely likely hypothetical, future.”

  “And sometimes the Wall shuts down all thought,” added Natasha.

  “Our recognition of horror can be overpowering,” Jeffrey agreed. “So much so that it dissolves our capacity for a universal perspective. A single man or woman cannot save ten others from drowning. The drowning ones would pull that person down.”

  “And the Tribes?” Natasha asked, after a pause. “How do they manage?”

  “For them, the horror of existence is inevitable. Like I said, they’re not able to fight it and so they deal with it in other, nonproductive or indirect ways. They think of their existence as extending through the lives of their children, their children’s children. They have religion, legends. Ways of thinking that glorify suffering, or at least transform it from pure horror into something that has the sheen of godliness, or purpose. In many of their stories, suffering and death are the very gates that lead to eternal peace.”

  “I feel sorry for them.”

  “You should. We all do, that’s why we’re trying to help them.” He looked at her, searchingly. “If I tell you something, Natasha, will you keep it to yourself? Not mention anything to Eric or Yasmine, or even your roommate?”

  “Sure, of course.”

  “Well, we’re going to step things up with the Pines. The Alphas have planned another mission. Only Gammas on this one,” he added quickly, “Arthur, Claudia, Douglas, and myself. We didn’t announce it on the maincomputer because the Alphas don’t want to cause unnecessary worry. But we’re going to attempt a manual sweep of the Pines who are still within the perimeter. Soon you won’t have to worry about their pain.”

  “Another mission?”

  Forty large heads rose up from the grass, startled and staring with big, round eyes.

  “I thought you’d be relieved,” Jeffrey said.

  “When are you doing this?”

  “Tomorrow, in the morning. We’ll be back before lunch.”

  “You can’t!”

  “Of course we can. We have to.” He was getting flustered. “Look—I thought you were coming around. I was trying to put your mind at ease. If I’d any idea you’d react like this, I wouldn’t have told you.”

  “You can’t sweep them, Jeffrey! We should wait. We need to learn more about them at least, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’ll go right now and tell that to the Alphas!”

  A whoosh interrupted their talk, and the door opened to reveal a chatting, jolly party of seven Gammas and Deltas. At the front of the group stood Tom Doncaster, Director of the Department of Agriculture, wearing his usual blue coveralls. Unlike everyone else, he had apparently decided to forgo the chance to dress up in new clothes.

  “Oh. Hello, Jeffrey, Natasha. Hope we’re not interrupting anything. I was just leading a tour of the Farms.”

  An awkward moment followed as the others poured in, their talk dying down as they noticed Natasha’s distress. Natasha didn’t care, though; she didn’t care what they thought of her, she was too busy fighting the desire to scream. Sweep the Pines. Tomorrow. A manual sweep with the best in the Office. And this time, the citizens would be prepared, they would know where to look, thanks to her.

  “No problem, Tom,” Jeffrey said. “We were just admiring the herd here. Wonderful work you’ve been doing.” As he spoke, Jeffrey’s hand closed forcefully over Natasha’s arm and he began leading her past the group. “Anyway, we were about to head back to dinner.”

  In the Garden, the white chairs had been dispersed around the circular tables, and the tables themselves glittered with silver utensils and white china; sparkling candles scattered across sky-blue tablecloths. The Alphas had left, though that was expected. Even the more socially inclined among them never remained outside the Department of Government for more than a few hours. In their absence, the formal feeling of the Ceremony had given way to the thrill of a festive reception. Groups sat talking around plates of roast lamb and glasses of wine, while others gathered around the musicians, dancing in slow circles or laughing conspiratorially at some private joke. Still others wandered in groups of two or three under the canopy of branches, admiring the recent bloom of the magnolias or orchids or stargazing lilies. Jeffrey led Natasha firmly through the Department doors and into the Dome.

  Raj and his friends were still standing near the elephant with their signs, and an argument was brewing between Raj’s group and a handful of Epsilons. No one noticed as Jeffrey tapped his finger at the Department of Research doors and hurried Natasha inside. The circular lobby was empty.

  “Since when do you have access to Research?” Natasha asked.

  “There are certain perks to being a Gamma.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He tapped his finger again, this time at the door labeled OFFICE OF BIOPRODUCTION.

  “Somewhere private,” he said.

  They passed through the doorway and it closed behind them. There were no overhead lights in this room; instead, row upon row of bluish, glowing vats lit their way, each vat containing a pale, growing organ. The
sight did not help Natasha’s already weak stomach, and she told Jeffrey as much. But not until they had come halfway down the aisle of replacement hearts, each one thumping mutedly in its liquid home, did Jeffrey stop and look at her.

  “All right, this is it,” he said. “I want to know the truth. The whole truth. Your behavior has gone far beyond a normal response to a traumatic event. You need to tell me why you’re acting like this.”

  “I want to come on the mission,” she said, almost wildly. She was desperately thinking of some way she could warn the Tribe before the team got to them. Once she got Outside, she could break off from the others and run ahead, or else make so much noise that the Pines would hear them coming and flee. “Please, Jeffrey, get me on this team.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You got me on the last one. And it wasn’t my fault they took me. Why should I be punished for it? I should’ve been Arthur’s first pick. I understand the Pines better than anyone.”

  “There, like that.” Jeffrey’s face was livid. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing,” Natasha said. Her mind was reeling; she was making things worse. “Just that I’m the only one who saw their cave and actually talked to them. You might not know they spoke English if it wasn’t for me.”

  “How many times do we have to tell you, it doesn’t matter what they speak?”

  Natasha shrugged with feigned nonchalance, but her heart was beating fast, twice as fast as the replacement hearts around them. A kind of violent awareness was coming into Jeffrey’s eyes.

  “Was there anything you left out of your report to Arthur?” He regarded her closely. “You’ve been a terrible liar ever since you were a kid. Remember how they’d catch you sneaking chocolate squares out of the Dining Hall?”

  “I’d never lie about this,” Natasha shot back, furious.

  “I hope not, considering that you’re a member of my team in the Office of Mercy, who was given the extraordinarily misguided privilege of leaving this settlement.”

  In a sudden, violent gesture, Jeffrey yanked the sleeve up his right arm. The bright burn raged over his flesh, pink even in the blue dim. For the first time in her life, it made Natasha flinch.

  “There is no one in this settlement who understands the capabilities of the Tribes better than I do. I know their tricks. I feel the consequence of their trickery in a way that—Alpha willing—no other citizen ever will. Now I want you to look me in the eye and swear that you will never speak of leaving this settlement again.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  His eyes seemed filled with an answer he could not express. His hand remained on his sleeve and his whole being insisted on her response more vehemently than if he’d been shouting.

  “I swear,” she gave in. “I swear not to go on a mission again.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  He rolled down his sleeve in a gesture that seemed almost embarrassed, and with a sudden calm that made Natasha regret her acquiescence almost immediately. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but withdrew just as soon. The blue light from the vats reflected off his glasses.

  “Let me walk you back to the party,” he said, acting as if nothing unusual had happened between them.

  “I’m not really in the mood to mingle.”

  “To your sleeproom, then.”

  “I think I can find it.”

  “Okay,” he said, showing his empty hands in defeat. “I’ll give you some space to calm down. See you at the afternoonshift tomorrow.”

  Natasha remained rooted in place as Jeffrey’s footsteps echoed down the long aisle and the door fell closed behind him. In the quiet, the low, deep thuds of the replacement hearts seemed louder, and the glow of the vats dreamlike and menacing. The array of floating organs cast strange, odd-shaped shadows on the ceiling, within the rippling patterns of light.

  She knew what she had to do, though she could hardly think it. But she knew, as absolutely as if it were the single possibility, a future laid out before her like a walled Garden path. While she waited for the minutes to pass, for Jeffrey to be absorbed back into the crowds at the party, she took measured steps farther down the aisle, gliding one hand along the counter and absentmindedly reading a label here or there.

  Most of the hearts in this row were full-grown and ready for transplant; and a plate at the base of each vat gave the name and generation of the intended host. She paused at one vat that held a bit of pulsing biomatter much smaller than the rest, about the size of a grape, floating above a mesh of thin, stringy veins. KENNETH MARIO, GENERATION BETA, the plate read. That made sense. Kenneth had just received a new heart early last month; the bioengineers must have only recently started his next one.

  Several minutes had passed; it would be safe now. Natasha reached the far wall, turned the corner, and began walking back through the purplish kidneys. She shuddered, knowing that one of them belonged to her and that, elsewhere in the room, dispersed among the different rows, were the replacements for every vital system in her body, waiting to find their home in her flesh. But she shouldn’t have to worry about transplants yet; she still had time. The rounds never began before the half-century mark. Unless, of course, Natasha thought cringingly, as she entered into the deserted lobby, unless a citizen was brash or crazy enough to risk the body premature damage.

  10

  The party had spilled out into the Dome, creating a scene of unusual havoc. The din of human voices echoed off the circular wall, mingling with the music and joyous singing emanating from the open Department of Agriculture doors. The flora and animal-themed dresses and wraps had begun to slip from women’s shoulders; and most of the men had their jackets off, the top fastenings undone on their shirts. Near the Department of Research, a group of Epsilons and Deltas, the most gregarious from their respective generations, were laughing loudly and throwing extra rolls of streamers toward the hub, so that the colors unfurled gracefully in the air before the spools clunked to the floor. It took Natasha a moment to realize they were not just horsing around, but very deliberately antagonizing Raj and his group, who remained near the elephant doors with their signs, looking just as menacing as ever.

  “Hey, Maria,” Mercedes called, breaking the protesters’ silence, “throw another one of those and I’ll stuff it down your throat. Give everyone’s ears a break.”

  Maria, known for her distinctly shrill voice, flushed pink from her neck to her forehead. But her outraged response was overpowered by one of her friends.

  “That’s some mouth you’ve got,” Jared Sullivan shouted to Mercedes, “for a traitor. No one wants you here. You’re ungrateful for what the Alphas give you and you disrespect the suffering of the Crane Tribe.”

  Mercedes rejoined with her own ideas about respect and suffering, but Raj, calm and aloof as ever, stopped her with a small gesture of his arm. The damage was already done, though. The wall of silence had disappeared and the two groups were shouting and taking steps toward each other. The crowd in the Dome was noticing, straining to see who had finally done the inevitable and told the protesters exactly what they all thought of them.

  Natasha spotted Eric standing with a few other Epsilons, holding a bottle of wine by its neck and looking ready to launch himself into the center of the action. Natasha went to him quickly and grabbed his arm.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said.

  “Hold on, I want to see how this turns out.” But one look at her face must have changed his mind. “What is it?” He allowed her to guide him toward the Dome wall, away from the others.

  “Did you know that the Office of Mercy is sending a team out in the morning?” she said.

  “Who told you that?”

  For a moment she considered lying, and keeping her promise to Jeffrey, but given what she wanted from Eric, she figured she owed him the truth.

  “Jeffrey to
ld me,” she said. “Just now. He said they’re planning a manual sweep.”

  “They can’t,” Eric said simply. “We don’t even understand how the Pines have been hiding from us, or how they’re destroying the sensors. And it was awful last time. It wasn’t even close to ethical.”

  “That’s why we have to stop it.”

  “How?” He was looking over her head, through the open doors to the Garden.

  “We can’t convince them. I tried already, with Jeffrey. They have Alpha approval and nothing we do will change their minds. You heard the Mother. No one is listening to us.” She took a breath. She had just caught sight of Jeffrey, well inside the Department of Agriculture, picking at the tables of food. “We have to warn the Tribe,” she said. “Suit up and find them, and tell them to leave the perimeter if they want to live.”

  “You’re promoting irrationalities,” Eric said. But Natasha could see that she had roused his interest. This is what she had counted on: Eric’s history of breaking the rules. Back when they were kids, he had held the record for sneaking out of bed at night; and in school, he had always been the one goofing off during lessons, the one whom the teachers had to move to the front. Now he was thinking fast, running through the logistics as Natasha had done just minutes ago.

  “The sensors are off on the green,” Natasha said, “for construction. That means no one will see us leave. As long as we keep near the riverbank, we won’t set off any alarms. Once we hit the ridge, we’re in the deadzone that the Pines created.”

  “How do you expect to find them?”

  “Jeffrey thinks they stayed near their old camp, hiding in the caves. I bet you he’s right. Where else can they go? Anyway, if they’re not there—”