by Kevin Gordon
It was a clear, relatively dust-free day, for the first time most could remember. Scott Air Force Base was fully revealed, bare to the world, without a shroud of filth circling around. And yet, it still looked dingy and worn. Brian took a walk with Todd around the periphery, in-between classes, just before lunch break, to talk about guns and girls—the only two things most boys spoke of.
But Brian was distracted by the landscape, now fully revealed, free from the dusty haze. The sun rose at the end of a very long runway, and small, young trees still framed the periphery, and for a moment, it reminded him of the Earth he would see on TV, full with bright hope and promise. He often got this way, in fact, it was more his nature, than of leadership and aggression. Sometimes he knew that he was good friends with Todd, if only so that he had a constant male companion, someone to prove that he was a boy, just like the others. He learned about guns, and all the pretty girls on the base, really just so he would have something to talk to with Todd and the other boys. But if he had his druthers, he would spend all day in a delicious dream, thinking philosophical thoughts like the old man, pondering the fate of man, and what wonders were in store. And sometimes, his musings would even be rewarded in reality.
Today, he even heard a bird.
It took him a minute to figure out where the chirping came from, but he quickly spotted it. The small, blue and white thing dove and ascended with grace, and to Brian, it echoed the falling leaves, dancing with the wind.
“Can you see that?” asked Todd, his usually sarcastic voice filled with wonder and awe.
“Yeah.” They both stood for a minute, watching it fly, before finally racing out of sight.
“I heard they’ve had some success with cloning, and are finally beginning to let some animals out.”
“You think it’ll live long?”
Todd shrugged. “Who cares, At least it’s something nice to look at.”
“Yeah. I wonder where it came from?”
“They had some animal bank, like that seed bank they’re using in England.”
“No,” said Brian, for the first time really thinking about it. “The seed bank’s one thing—they can plant seeds. The genebank, well, it’s only got sperm and eggs of animals. How’d they make that bird?”
“What? They just cloned it.”
Brian glanced up at where the bird flew. “I think you still need a girl bird to make it pregnant. Otherwise, it couldn’t be born. There isn’t any technology yet that can substitute for the womb, or I’m sure they would’ve used it by now with humans.”
Todd stopped, and thought over it too. “Then where did that come from?”
Brian got a shiver up his spine. “I don’t think I wanna know. Anyway, it’s time for chow.”
The cafeteria was enormous, even by military standards. Stretching the length of two football fields, within its bounds thousands of Archetypes and Prototypes, and even a few hundred Grunts, sat down for midday chow. Scott wasn’t just the base for the new Shuttle program; it was the training center for all archetypes, the education center for all prototypes. Wargames were held just a few miles away, and everyday tanks could be seen rolling by as the homestead prepared for the potential of the world to descend into barbarism. Girls and boys sat side by side, dressed the same, ate the same food, joked about the same subjects. In this new age of man, the luxury of sexism or racism couldn’t be afforded. The older generation may still have thought of things through the lens of girl and boy, rose colored glasses versus combat fatigues. But the new generation only cared about cleaning up the dead, learning how to fight, and how to run the infrastructure that was old America. Women shoved back as hard as they were shoved, and while a few fell victim to a few burly boys at night, typically they struck back with a few vicious girls in the day.
The only thing that was frowned on was same-sex relations. In a world where procreation was paramount, homosexuality was tantamount to treason. Men and women were brought up to have sexual fun with as many different partners, so long as they were of the opposite sex. The few times homosexuals were caught, they typically weren’t just expelled from the program—the ‘Machine’ as it was called by the young boys and girls—they were typically slaughtered as they left, a way of cleaning up loose ends. The worst one boy could do to another is concoct proof of a homosexual liaison, for in this new age of man, gossip was most often taken for truth. But then, that wasn’t anything new.
Brian and Todd made their way through the crowded, main aisle of the cafeteria, after getting their trays filled with food. It was a chaotic scene, with Prototypes horsing with other prototypes, and Archetypes doing the same, but with a discernible line separating them, and both their kinds from the lowly Grunts. A few girls grabbed at Todd as they moved down the center aisle, as he always was popular with them, especially ever since the showers became integrated, and the girls could size up the equipment the boys possessed.
“Would y’all keep yur damned hands to yurselves?!” he yelled in a mock southern drawl. He loved the old reruns of Gomer Pyle, and every chance he imitated the titular character in a perfect echo. “Golly, gee, just lemme be!”
Brian playfully shoved him, and then pointed out their circle of friends. They found a few seats, and started to dig into their food.
“Can you believe Charlie’s gonna be here?” asked one of the girls at the table. Word was going around that Charlie was not only visiting Scott, but spending some time with the Archetypes and Prototypes. He was probably the only human in existence to illicit equal respect from both groups.
“No way,” said Brian, as he leisurely consumed his meal. It was potatoes, beef, and green beans, and it didn’t taste half-bad. He relished in taking his time eating it, as opposed to his mad dash through breakfast. His friends would always tease him about how slow he ate, but none knew the reason.
“You think it’s gonna be about the coup?” asked Isaac, one of the tallest Prototypes. He was continually called an Archetype, much to his chagrin, and often a stray Archetype would challenge him to a fight, which he usually managed to refuse. “They hafta wanna do it soon.”
“You think there’s really gonna be a coup?” asked Brian. “Why bother?”
Dawn, one of Todd’s closer friends, threw a green bean at Brian. “‘Cause all those old geezers is only gettin older—look at our teachers, stupid! They can barely make it through a whole class without wheezin’ and coughin’. And we’re gonna let them tell us what to do?”
“Yeah.” Todd started picking off Dawn’s plate, and she smiled as he did. Brian always had a funny feeling about Dawn that he just couldn’t explain. She seemed like the other girls, maybe a little more attractive, but she also had a reservation that not only spoke of intelligence, but something more, something akin to . . . devotion. The few times she tried to get close to him, he cleverly pushed her away, not out of fear, but because she always seemed to want to learn more about him, and he was never one to share. “They’re all weak, and they know it. They know we’re gonna take it all, but they just wanna hold on for as long as they can.”
They all went quiet, as one of their professors walked by with a tray of food. As soon as he was out of earshot, Todd laughed.
“Look at ‘em! Look at all of ‘em!” His voice grew louder, laced with prideful arrogance, and others around him turned and took notice. “They’re all old sacs of shit. We should—”
“You should shut up,” said a voice that laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and almost lost his bowels.
“Charlie!”
The other kids ran over, not even noticing he came into the cafeteria. The Archetypes were all quiet now, sitting rigidly in their chairs, as if at attention, while the prototypes clambered over one another to get to Brian’s table. They were all questions and smiles, begging to know what would happen next. Dressed in a black bomber jacket and jeans, he had a cool machismo that every boy tried to emulate, and every girl lusted after. He calmed them down, as he sat on a table top.
“Now first, you can’t go around talking like that in public—not when others can hear. You got it?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Todd. “Ok.”
“That’s better. Because the time is coming when I’ll need all of you.”
They all pressed in closer, their ears perking up. In the distance, the tables filled with the old professors cringed with fear.
“Very soon, we’re gonna press that reset button, and start things over. I need boys and girls who have calm, cool heads, who can think for others. We have to rebuild this whole society, and figure out the direction for the future. You understand?”
“Yes!” They all answered.
“Now the archetypes will be the core, the backbone, but you here will be the brains of the new Machine. The Machine will only press forward; the Machine will be strong, and fearless! The Machine will take back the Earth, and we shall control the Machine!”
“Yes!”
“But we need to be quiet, and diligent. Some of you have been talking—”
“No, not us!” they all cried.
“Yes, some of you have been filthy snitches, squealing on our plans. I just came from a meeting with the Council, and I know this to be true.”
His eyes passed from one boy to another, from the face of one pretty girl to another, and they all quaked in fear.
“I need you to police yourselves. If you hear someone runnin’ around, actin’ like a damned fool, then do something about it! Don’t let one or two fools ruin our future!”
“No!”
Something caught Brian’s eye, and it was Dawn, or rather, it was the expression on Dawn’s face. While the other prototypes looked up to Charlie with eyes of fear and awe, she gazed at him with a more familiar, comfortable expression, like she had heard his voice many times before, like she was used to his presence.
“Good,” continued Charlie. “Now, we’re gonna change direction. I haven’t been much for this whole Shuttle shit, but now I agree with the Homestead, that we need to get up there and speak with these Watchers and figure out what happened with the Countdown.” The council’s words about the change in the Earth’s position rang true with him, especially after he did some tests on his own back on his submarine. He knew that even if he and his people took over the Homestead, it could all be negated in an instant by the Watchers, or whomever possessed the power to affect the Countdown. “Before we can flip the switch, and turn the Machine on, we need to know as much as we can. Now we were gonna use the Shuttle, but I’ve had a change of heart.”
“What?” asked an eager prototype.
“We’re gonna use another ship I remembered about—Enterprise, from a company called Scaled Composites. It’s easy to fly, and can get us where we need to go. It’ll be boosted into the upper atmosphere by a bomber-sized mothership called Eve. Enterprise can carry eight people, including two pilots. I took a look at the ship, and it’s in fine shape, and should need minimal prep. We should be able to launch in two weeks!”
The kids all cheered, whooping and hollering, as finally an end was in sight.
“And after that, after the ship comes back, and we find out what we need to know, then we turn the Machine on. And I pity any and all who stand in our way.”
As Charlie walked away, Brian couldn’t help but be swept up in the euphoria felt by the other kids. The whole rest of the day they talked about what they would do with the world; what they would fix, where they would go, and how they would live. He watched as Charlie took a tour of the archetypes, who never stood straighter in their lives. They not only had fear in their eyes, but pride in their bearing. For them, Charlie was a living legend, a man who would open the doors to a future in which they would be even more powerful than they were now. A part of Brian even envied Charlie, to be able to command such respect from so many, and apparently so easily.
Later that day, Brian came home, opening the door to find his sister and mother embracing.
“What happened?”
“I finally did it!” shouted Iris, as she bounded into Brian’s arms. “We couldn’t wait for tonight, so I went over to his house, and . . . well, it’s finally over!”
Jess beamed proudly. “Your sister’s gonna be a mother. Whaddya think of that?”
He hugged her again. “I’m happy for you! I’m glad that’s all over.”
“So am I.” To Brian, she beamed like the sun itself, and few things in his short life had made him happier. He always loved his sister terribly, and the fact that she wasn’t born a prototype, like him, caused him no end of worry. But finally, he knew she would be alright, that her future would be secure. “Tomorrow I go to the doctor, to get certified, and we can start looking for a house!”
Brian nodded absently, the realization that he was losing his younger sister suddenly smacking him in the face.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t move too far.” She saw his sorrow, and kissed him on the cheek. “I could never live without my big brother.”
Brian smiled, and laughed, squeezing her so tight that she had to beat him away.
Later that night, after dinner, he sat with Iris on the porch, gazing up at the stars. It was a cool night with little wind, and a few dozen pinpricks of light twinkled through the sheet of dust overhead.
“Dad sure wasn’t happy.”
Iris sighed heavily. “No, he wasn’t.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around. Especially if you actually do get a house close by.”
She twiddled her thumbs, and then rubbed her hands on her non-existent belly, dreaming of getting big, and full, and being the envy of the other girls. As much as she was afraid about having the child, the actual act wasn’t too bad, even as she thought to herself later, pleasurable. And every girl her age was worried about finding someone right, about actually carrying the load.
“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly. “When are you going to make Rachel preggers?”
He sighed, suddenly feeling a little chill in the air. “I guess it’ll hafta be soon. Her parents are starting to get on my nerves. And I even got an official warning from the Homestead.”
“Why, don’t you want to? It’s not all that bad,” she said, with a coy smile. “You might even like it.”
“I’m not sure she will.” Rachel had been very dismissive of him lately, willing to kiss for extended periods, but once the kissing turned to heavy petting she always demurred. “I probably will, but . . . I don’t know. I really want to, but I just don’t . . .” He picked up a rock, and threw it far off into the distance. “Ah hell, who knows?”
Iris sat back. “You want to go up there, into the stars.”
“That all I’ve ever wanted to do!” he cried, pounding his fists on the floor. “I don’t want a kid, or a house, or even a girl. I don’t wanna be a commander of those damned archetypes, or some Homestead lackey. I just want to get away, get out there, above all of . . . this. I want to see the watchers, find out what happened to our world. I guess . . . I guess that more than that, I don’t wanna turn out like mom and dad.” He leaned back. “I can’t wait until I’m gone.”
Suddenly, they both heard the screen door close behind them. Brian went white as a sheet, as he could barely turn around.
“You . . . little . . . SHIT!”
Brian still didn’t turn around, but that didn’t stop Joe from almost throwing his son to the other end of the porch. He was on top of him like a panther on its prey, using his hands to beat relentlessly on his son.
“Stop!” frantically cried Iris, as she stood behind them unsure of what to do. “Please—stop!”
Joe beat him several more times on his head, then stood up, beginning to cough. “All you arrogant little shits disgust me! You sit there as the whole world is handed to you, and still you hate us. We give you food, you hate us. We give you life, and you hate us!”
Brian curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing and rocking back and forth.
“I’m sorry, dad, I’m, sorry . . .”
>
“You are sorry. A sorry waste of a man, a sorry waste of food, a sorry waste of my time! I wasted fifteen years raising you, threw away the only good years left to me so you could whine about how rotten I was. How rotten your mother is!” He slapped his head once more with all his might, the muscle in his aged arms delineated in the pale light of night. Brian tried to cringe away, struggling not to pass out, but Joe grabbed a tuft of his sandy-brown hair, and yanked him back, bringing a snapping sound from his neck. “Your sister’s got more balls than you, getting pregnant at thirteen, startin’ her life. What do you do? Nothin’—nothin’ at all! God you sicken me.” He tossed Brian away like a ragdoll, then bounded back into the house, slamming the door hard behind him. Iris rushed over to Brian, kneeling beside him, holding his head in her arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” she stroked his head, as pools of her tears collected in his blood-stained cheeks. “You know he didn’t mean it, he’s just had some hard days at work, and—”
“He means it,” said Brian, with an icy coolness in his eyes. “They all mean it. That’s what my age group was bred for, right? Bred to take over the world from the geezers like him. I guess I can’t blame him—we have all these years to live, and he’s got his numbered already.”
“Don’t talk like that!” she shouted, turning angry. “You sound like some of the kids in my class—always talking about taking over the country!” She calmed down and sighed, rubbing her hands over Brian’s face, kissing his cheeks. “Things are good just the way they are.”
She hugged him close, as he wept a few tears into her ample bosom.
Things might be good, he thought, but they could always be better.
Chapter 10