Angels Among Us

by C. E. Barrett

  Devany shrugged. “I don't know,” came the reply. “Not very long. I can't tell without a chrono. I had a sleep, though, since I got here but I don't know for how long.”

  Seren rose and put Devany on the couch with a reassuring smile for her and then conferred quietly with Daffyd. “You think it's been less than a day?” she asked him.

  “Yes. I'd say so. She would be much hungrier if it had been longer. Besides, there does seem to be quite the influx today. That's my impression, anyway. If this happened all the time, this place would be completely inundated, I would think.” His expression said he was out of any further opinions at the moment.

  Seren turned back to Devany. “Can you tell us where you landed?” Any information about the surrounding area might prove useful in the near future.

  “Yes, of course.” Devany rose to her feet and went to the window. “You can just see from here. Look.” She pointed between two trees on the crest of the hill.

  “So you saw this house right away,” said Seren. Devany nodded.

  “Yes. I came right here but I couldn't find anyone.” Her diction and vocabulary struck both Seren and Daffyd as curiously unchildlike. They wondered about her world.

  “I couldn't find any Nannies or Bushkas. I know not to go upstairs so I came in here. I like this room.” She couldn't explain how exposed she had felt being outside in the open field, or how foreign the rest of the house had seemed to her. This little room had seemed the safest place to be.

  “Why shouldn't you go upstairs?” asked Daffyd.

  She gave him her best ‘what sort of imbecile are you?’ look. “Upstairs is for the older ones. I don't want to get caught by one of them!” Suddenly she switched topics. “May I have another one of those orange things?”

  “Of course. Come with me.” Seren held out her hand. Devany stared at her uncomprehendingly. Feeling awkward and a little stupid, Seren dropped her hand to her side. She led the way back to the kitchen where she pulled three more oranges out of her newly acquired knapsack. She handed them around. They sat at the dining table to eat. Seren started peeling Devany's and then gave it to the little girl to try on her own. Devany took great delight in the way the thick skin lifted away from the fruit beneath. Then she marveled at how it divided into segments. She rubbed a clear spot in the dust on the table and tried fitting the pieces of peel back together. Seren had not seen anyone derive so much fun from food since her children were a year or two old.

  “Devany,” she said. “You mentioned that you've had orange juice before, but you've never seen an actual orange. That seems strange to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, usually the juice comes from the fruit. Don't the bottles or cans have a picture of an orange on them?”

  The child looked baffled. “I don't know what you mean,” she said. “The juice is just in cups. To drink. There's no bottle or can.”

  Seren remembered Devany's mentioning a nanny. “Where does your nanny get the juice for the cups?”

  Now Devany was completely confused. Nanny512 opened a slot in the wall and the tray of cups was there; one cup for each child. When they had all finished, the cups and tray went back into the slot. She had never wondered how they got filled or what happened to the empty cups. It was just part of her existence. The same sort of thing applied to meals.

  Four times a day, the children were herded to the eating hall. Each group sat at a large table with their Nanny at the head. The bowls and spoons were already in place, the bowls filled with warm mush. Sometimes it was a grain-based porridge, other times it might be a mix of beans and vegetables, but so cooked and processed as to be unrecognizable. Devany had never seen fresh fruit or vegetables. In fact, she didn't know that such things existed. She had no need to know. Only the children who would end up as farmers or workers in the food processing plants would learn of these things. Devany's future lay in a less mundane field.

  She had demonstrated an easy affinity for communication, speaking in small sentences before she was a year old. She had been weaned from her mother then, and taken to this Complex where she was put into the Language Center. She had spent periods of time with different experts, being exposed to a new language for three or four months at a stretch to assess how adaptable she could be. In almost every case she had picked up the rudiments by the end of the allotted time.

  Apart from her native Russian, English had proved to be the easiest for her to learn, followed by German. However, the State decided she would learn Japanese instead of the almost extinct tongue of the former Third Reich.

  Therefore, at the age of two and a half, she had been placed with Nanny512. Nanny512 was in charge of a group of sixteen children, ranging in age from Devany's two and a half to Hideo's seven years. They were all learning Russian, English, and Japanese. The children were divided into smaller groups each day, according to each child's ability. The day would be spent using only one of the three languages for all purposes. This meant that when they spoke to each other, or to Nanny512 or any other adult, they would use the language of the day.

  The younger ones, like Devany, would spend the day with an expert in the language. They would practice their colors, numbers and alphabet, and simple words until they could use small sentences. As time passed, they moved on to more complex sentences and began learning to print their letters or characters.

  Those who had absorbed all this information then moved on to translating words from one of the languages to the others. From words, they progressed to sentences, learning to express an idea in all three tongues. Their other studies consisted of the history of the New Era; when it began and how much better it was to be living now than in previous times. They learned simple arithmetic, reading, and writing, and had vigorous physical exercise to keep their bodies strong and healthy.

  They learned nothing about the world that had existed before and little about the world around them beyond what they would need to perform their duties for the State. Their reality was limited to the lower floor of the Complex where the only windows looked into the courtyards and playing fields within the walls. They never saw what lay beyond.

  Earlier today, Devany and the others in her group had been in one of the exercise yards. It was their daily ninety-minute exercise time outdoors. They were running, climbing, and scrambling over an obstacle course. It was designed to work every muscle group and to provide an aerobic workout, while keeping their minds focused on the task at hand. An occupied mind didn't have time to wander or wonder.

  Devany's mind, though, was capable of processing several things at once. Therefore, while a part was taking her body over, under, and through the barriers before her, another part was playing. She was imagining that she was an Athlete competing for her Complex. She knew enough to keep this to herself, and to look as though her every fiber was tuned into the exercise, so no one would suspect she was having unregulated thoughts.

  While she was negotiating a particularly tricky part of the course, trying to swing hand over hand across five rings suspended over a shallow muddy pit, she had lost her grip and fallen. She had landed in the field of grass.

  She had never seen such a thing in her life—so many long, waving sticks or something. When she saw the house, she felt a surge of relief. There would be a Nanny or ‘Someone In Charge’ to tell her where she should be, how to get back to her group. But the house had been empty on the ground floor and a lifetime of conditioning prevented her from climbing the stairs. When she had wandered into the office, she found it not unlike Nanny512's private room off their main room. Perhaps this was ‘Someone In Charge's’ personal space. She might get in trouble for coming in, but if she didn't touch anything, and just stayed put, then someone would find her eventually.

  She sat on the couch and waited. Finally, her fear and confusion had overwhelmed her and she had slept. Sometime later, footsteps overhead woke her up and she had peeked out the door to see who might be there. Suddenly frightened by the strange voices, and realizing that someone
might not understand why she was in their private place, she had tried to hide.

  Now, talking with Seren and Daffyd, she was beginning to realize they might not be the ‘Someone In Charge’ she was hoping for. They didn't know any more than she did, or so they acted. It certainly didn't seem likely that they would be able to help her find her way home.

  She concluded her narration of her arrival here. Seren and Daffyd sat back in their chairs and thought about what they had just heard. The details of Devany's life confirmed for both of them that she was not from a world they recognized. They wondered what it all meant.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  Nanny512 counted the children one more time and still came up short by one. She even used the infrared scanner to check nearby rooms, closets, and wall spaces. It wasn't normal for a child to go missing, to disobey the rules. Individuality was carefully eliminated from their make-up as early as possible, but it still often surfaced in the brightest. Devany certainly fit that category.

  Nanny512 realized she would have to confer with the Sports Supervisor, a task she did not relish. The Sports Supervisor was brilliant at devising games and obstacle courses to challenge the mind and body without allowing any time for free thinking. Of course he was, he had been trained from earliest youth for this position. He had been a child when the New Era began, and was now in his early thirties. He couldn't remember anything else. You could talk to him about his work for hours, but any attempt to direct conversation to anything else almost shut him down. He was a perfect New Era person.

  Nanny512, on the other hand, had been a woman grown when World War II ended. She remembered the diversity of countries and cultures before the War. She remembered the books, music, and beauty. She also remembered the cold, hunger, and hard times. In that regard, the New Era was much better. No one went hungry, no one lacked for the necessities of life.

  But, oh, no one read fiction anymore, or painted pictures from their imaginations. Music was allowed once a week. The children would gather in the auditorium and a small orchestra would play Tchaikovsky or other Russian composers. The Germanic influence was eliminated. There was no more Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, and Bach. New music was being composed, but only under State approved conditions and rules. Everything was so controlled now, and a person had to conform if she wanted to remain herself.

  She, herself had learned this quickly and had become a model New Era Nanny. She had carefully hidden any passions, any creativity she might have. Deep inside, she was still Irina Gorbacheva, the aspiring singer and mother of two. They had been taken from her when the New Era began, their father shot at her feet when he tried to resist. She had given in then, and pretended she thought it was a good thing. She had seen them years later, but they hadn't recognized her and she hadn't dared remind them of the old days. It would only lead to trouble. But they were alive, and as happy as anyone in this brave new world.

  She looked up at the great seal above the door. It was inscribed with the State Motto—Obedience, Conformity, Duty. The children had been drilled on those concepts from earliest memory. Every morning they were required to face the portrait of the Founder of the New Era and recite their Promise of Patriotism. Not since Piotr, had any of this group shown any signs of initiative or imagination, although Nanny suspected that Devany had at least a spark. She also suspected that the girl had the intelligence to hide it. Her disappearance had caused Nanny512 to have mixed emotions. She was afraid of the consequences for the child when she was found, but a carefully hidden part of her rejoiced that perhaps Devany had escaped. There were still places a person could go, and although she couldn't imagine a seven-year-old child finding them on her own, she prayed and hoped for Devany's safety and freedom.

  She composed her features and contacted the Sports Supervisor. His face appeared on the small screen on her desk. He was incredibly unhelpful. He thought he had seen a child fall from the rings into the mud, but at the end of the day, none of the group was muddy. The sun or something must have dazzled him. There had been a bright flash of light from some source just then, perhaps it was the sunlight glinting off the metal of the rings. He didn't bother to count the children coming and going. There was no place they were out of his sight during exercise time, no exit besides the one he guarded. Since it was impossible for a child to vanish, she must have wandered off on her way back to her Main Room.

  Nanny512 broke the connection and contacted her Section Head. She reported the missing child and the Sports Supervisor's claim. The Head smiled grimly and said he would take care of the Supervisor. Nanny nodded politely and waited for the screen to blank out. Then she shuddered to herself. She knew that if Devany were in the building, she would be found. She also knew that she, herself, was off the hook. The children had been escorted from her care to the exercise yard, and back again by a Monitor. Nanny had carefully noted the number going out and the number coming back. The Monitor showed her that the Sports Supervisor had accepted sixteen, and that only fifteen had been returned. The tally sheet showed it clearly. Nanny512 was deeply grateful not to be SS431.

  She turned to the remaining children. They had gone about their routine without her, for which she was thankful. They had removed their exercise clothes, showered and changed and were now waiting obediently to be taken to their afternoon meal. Nanny put all thoughts of Devany out of her head and, with a nod to the children, led them down the hall.

  * * * *

  The Interrogator calmed the Sports Supervisor with a word and a gesture, both of which had been implanted in his subconscious some time ago. Then she sat him in one of the Questioning Chairs. It was actually quite comfortable, being well padded. When it was put back in the reclining position, a footrest rose from the lower portion to support the legs. SS431 was now lying back and beginning to relax even more. The Interrogator moved across the room with a wheeled tray that contained a variety of tools of her trade. She set up behind the Supervisor's head, humming a State-approved song quietly to herself. It helped her to concentrate on the job at hand. This entailed boosting the Supervisor's memory output. So far, the information gathered about the girl's disappearance had been minimal. In SS431's limited consciousness, the child had not been there at the end of the class; therefore she had never been there.

  It was the Interrogator's duty to tap into the brain of the unfortunate teacher and extract the subconscious memory. No alarms had gone off, so the child had not run off in any conventional manner, or been abducted. But she was nowhere to be found in the entire Complex.

  If the Interrogator did her job carefully and well, the Supervisor should awaken with nothing more than a headache. If she were careless, well, the Section Head would have to requisition a new Sports Supervisor. Such were the hazards. She had instructions from the Complex Chief herself to get the information, regardless of the cost to SS431.

  She strapped the teacher firmly into the chair and began the delicate job of inserting the fine wires into the tiny holes drilled into his skull. Ultimately, they would connect to the memory centers of his brain, snaking and worming their way through the gray matter to their destination. Trial and error had shown this to be the most efficient questioning method.

  The Supervisor was already in the hypnotic state necessary for questioning, thanks to the word and gesture used on his arrival. The Interrogator checked the dials and gauges on her machinery. Everything looked normal. She congratulated herself mentally, and began the session.

  “Do you know who you are?” she asked.

  “Sports Supervisor 431,” came the dreamy reply.

  “Very good. Do you know what day it is?”

  “Day 195 of New Era Year 35.”

  “Very good. Now go back earlier today when the Language 2112 group came to your area. Can you see them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you see the girl you were asked about earlier? Is she there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. No
w watch her and tell me everything she does.”

  The narrative was dry, lacking any real expression as it described Devany's actions. There were a few moments when the Supervisor had not been looking directly at the child, but he had been peripherally aware of her position. Then she had reached the rings. He saw her swing from the first to the next, and release the grip of one hand to grab the third ring. She had slipped then, fallen, and vanished.

  “Repeat that part,” said the Interrogator, turning up the power.

  Sweat beaded on the Supervisor's brow, but all that happened was the memory sharpened somewhat. “She lost her grip, and fell. I saw a flash of bright light and heard a strange sound. And she was gone.” The Interrogator boosted the power one more time. SS431 cried out, but his story remained unchanged. Slowly, the Interrogator turned the dial lower, easing the teacher out of the danger zone. She would take the recording to the Complex Chief and let her worry about it. If more questioning was needed, the High Comrades could decide. She had done her duty. She gently eased the wires out of SS431's brain.

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  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  “It's your turn,” said the child, looking from Seren to Daffyd and back again. “What Centers are you from? How did you get here?”

  Seren wondered how to explain a grocery store to a child who had no concept of either groceries or stores. Devany's world seemed communist to Seren, but to an extent she had never imagined. She wondered how parents—mothers—could give up their children, and then thought. They probably don't see anything strange about it. She shuddered inwardly. The idea of giving up her babies to a State-run institution filled her with horror.

  Daffyd, looking at Seren, realized she was lost in thought. He cleared his throat. “I'll go first, then, shall I?” he said.