When I wake up, the girl is curled up in a round metal chair next to me, the bright red cushion bunched up under her head.
She rubs her eyes the way a child would, with both hands fisted and pressed firmly into her flesh. A wave of tenderness sweeps over me, as if she were my own child. She stands up, stretches, and looks at me. “How are you feeling?”
I look away, feeling vulnerable, which is unusual for me. Get a hold of yourself, old man. “I’ve been better. You don’t have to stay by my side, you know.”
“I know.” She doesn’t say anything more, though, and Ellie walks in, two coffees in hand. I smile and hug her after she sets the steaming cups on the bedside table.
“Ellie, what a life saver! Did you sneak a file in there to break me out?”
She shakes her head. “Crazy old coot. You stay in bed.” She turns to Mira, a curious expression on her face. “Good morning, Mira. I didn’t know you were going to be here. Would you like me to order you something to drink?”
Mira yawns. “I’m fine. Just—”
“Keeping the old goat out of trouble?”
She snorts, and I glare at the both of them. Ellie barely hides her own grin.
I pick up my cup and hold it to my lips, letting the steam warm me. “Mira, will you excuse us?”
“Yeah, I’ll just… I’ll just go back to my room.” Looking rather lost, she murmurs goodbye to both of us and leaves.
After she’s gone, Ellie shuts and locks the door.
“Would you like me to send for that boy?” Ellie snaps her fingers. “Will, right?”
“No, I’m fine. Ellie, I don’t know if I can go through with it.”
“I think that ship sailed the day you selected her.”
I study my wrinkled hands, knuckles swollen with age and arthritis. How they shake if I even lift them an inch off the tray. How I can barely walk, hardly even open my eyes anymore when I wake up. How nice it might be just to fall asleep. Should I tell her that? Would she smile and nod as if she’s known all along? That is, after all, her choice, too. “Did you know some families would rather their children die, disappear in the forest, than have them become Seconds?”
She looks nonplussed. Does she already know? “And this surprises you?”
“Yes.” She shakes her head at my blindness. “In the beginning, being chosen as an Absolved was so prestigious. It was a way to make a difference in the world.”
“And you’re only now realizing that not everyone feels that way?”
I frown, eyes on the bubbles popping around the rim of my cup. “No, I knew that. I suppose I just thought it was a bunch of angry protesters looking for something to argue against. Not kids. Not parents, families, on the farms, sending their kids out to die rather than be a Second.”
“Well, do you see their point?”
I take a sip of coffee, only just cool enough not to burn the roof of my mouth. “Yes, but you know I’ve never been in favor of the government’s decision not to teach the Texans the reality of project ReGenesis. To wipe its origins out of history, fuzz it up enough so they don’t ask questions.” I close my eyes, thinking back to all those volunteers, those people who chose to be in the program. It needs to stop. The truth must come out. “This Act needs to pass. Those people, all of our people, deserve to be free.”
“Like it was before the Immigration War?”
“Yes.”
“And this justifies taking Mira’s life?”
My mouth twists down at the corners. “I’m beginning to think we were wrong. Perhaps these children should never have been made to be Seconds.”
She shrugs. “We thought it best at the time. The free citizens wanted their pound of flesh and, well, the success rate is so much better with children than with adults.”
“Now who’s the heartless one?” I try to smile, to belie the unease her words bring. She’s right. We were so far removed from our own mortality that we saw the children as objects, a renewable resource rather than the indescribable treasure that they were and are.
She takes a sip of coffee and sets the cup back down before folding her hands in her lap. “I won’t deny my part in this. We were all responsible, in our own way. Maybe it wasn’t the right path, but we thought it was at the time.”
I shake my head. “How could we be so blind? I sincerely thought that most of the Texans would see this as a privilege, an honor.”
“Given that they don’t understand what actually happens, most of them do support the program. In all societies, there will always be those who disagree with the status quo: those who fight against whatever the majority believes. Have you ever thought that maybe they’re right?”
Adam? Are you there? What would you do, if you were still alive? I feel tired all of a sudden, and lay my head back against the pillow. “The doctors moved the transfer to tomorrow. They’re even skipping the Release Ceremony, said it’d be too much for me to give a speech in my condition.”
Ellie pauses, the silence full of things unspoken. What are you thinking, Ellie? “I know.” She’s silent again as she studies me, letting the weight of our words fill the space between us. “Are you thinking of changing your mind?”
Am I? Should I go through with it? Mira’s passion, her excitement, her vision of what the world should be like comes to mind. Could she do this? Could she handle doing what needs to be done? “I don’t know. Nothing feels right anymore. We live so long, serve as a reminder of the past, to teach and guide the future, yet I have relatives all over the world, and I haven’t met a quarter of them. My children might be dead, but their children’s children’s children aren’t. I should know them, watch them grow up, but I couldn’t pick them out of a crowd. I could be related to half of the world somewhere down the line, but I’m nobody’s grandpa.”
“Do you think you’re losing too much during the transfer process?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Perhaps, or maybe I’ve just reached the limit of the human capacity for memory. Maybe my mind, recycled as it is, just can’t hold any more new information without tossing out the old. It’s not as though there is any research to prove just how many times the human mind can be downloaded into new bodies. Even five hundred years later, it’s still relatively uncharted territory.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.” A coughing fit hits me, and I pull out my handkerchief and hack into it. I fold it up, hands shaking, and shove it in my pocket. Agony wracks my body as it subsides. I don’t remember it being this painful ever before. Is this what it feels like to run your fingers alongside of death? Almost crossing over but not quite?
Eliot reaches over and folds my hands in hers. My vision blurs, and the person before me is not a middle-aged man with brown hair, but my lovely Eliot, rolling blue-black curls and sea-foam green eyes that dance in the sunlight, matching the waves on a peaceful ocean shore and wearing nothing but a smile.
“You know what I think it is? I think you see your son, Adam, in Mira, and it scares you. You’re not a monster, Socrates. You’re a human, no matter how long you’ve lived.”
“I just feel so weak, and it’s not just the age, or the cancer, or any of a million things I have wrong with me. It’s inside my mind. My soul. I don’t know if I have the strength to die.”
She frowns, her eyes losing some of their brightness and filling with disappointment. “So you’re still going through it with it.”
I don’t know. Am I? I stare into her eyes for a moment, then nod.
“Then maybe you are the monster that you fear.” Her lips are set in a grim line, and even though I know she still loves me, a part of her hates me as well.
“Would that make it easier for you?” I ask.
She closes her eyes, shakes her head, just as an orderly in dark green comes in.
>
“Sir, we’d like to check your vitals. If you don’t mind,” he says this last bit to Ellie, who merely shakes her head and walks out the door, every step a statement of her frustration.
After the orderly, Malcom, finishes his inspection, which is as good as can be expected for a critically dying man (I can tell by his false smiles and nods), he leaves and suddenly, clearly, it comes to mind. I really can’t do this. I’m so wrapped up in who I am, the past I’ve made, the people I’ve left behind, that I really can’t. Maybe at one point in time, but not anymore. I really am too old for this.
My hand quivers as I reach over to the top drawer of my nightstand, pulling out the piece of paper I’d found on my nightstand the first day I arrived at the Smith.
Are you feeling lost? Alone? Unsure of your place in the world? Do you need someone to talk to? Our counselors are available 24 hours a day. Just dial 599 on your in room com unit and ask for Dr. James Scoffield.
What if I’m wrong? What if this isn’t what I think it is? I take a deep breath. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I lean over to the buttons on the monitor next to my bed. “I need to make a phone call.”
“To whom may I direct your call?” A pleasant electronic voice, similar to the AVAS system, asks me.
“Extension five-nine-nine, please.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Am I making the right decision? What if I’m not? Will Mira be able to do—
“Good evening. D.C. Crisis Hotline, how may I help you?” A young woman answers. She’s not the person I’m looking for.
“I’d like to speak to Dr. James Scoffield, please.”
A pause. “Certainly, sir. I’ll put you right through.”
Ellie hugs me when she returns to my room. My arms are so heavy that I can barely lift them to wrap them around her. Will she understand? Will she help the girl do what needs to be done? Am I doing the right thing?
“Have you heard the latest?” She sits in the chair beside my bed.
“In here?” I try for a smile and gesture to my quiet surroundings, but based on the look on her face, my levity doesn’t work. “It seems the doctors believe that any sort of outside contact might stress me out, make things progress quicker.” A painful coughing fit emphasizes my point. “They’ve cut off all contact with the outside world, except for you and the girl.”
“Well, this one’s not about Mira. There was another rebel attack last night.”
“On whom?”
“Julius.”
I raise my eyebrows. Another of the oldest of us, Julius is a Japanese physicist who named himself after the great emperor after his first procedure. “What happened?”
She purses her lips. “He had picked a young boy, Rico, to be his Second. Lifers bombed the hospital where they were.”
“He wasn’t at the Smith?”
“No, a private institution in Tokyo sponsored him, so he decided to have the Exchange there.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“The boy was killed, along with two doctors. Julius hadn’t arrived yet. It happened right as he was getting into his transport pod.”
How terrified the boy must have been, alone with the building coming down around him. “I take it the Lifers claimed the attack as their own?”
“Yes, though not the main group. They’re claiming it was one of the fringe arms of the rebellion, those who live on the outskirts and aren’t completely controlled by the main organization.”
“I didn’t think Julius was old enough to start looking for another Second.”
“He told Napoleon he wanted to get his done just in case this bill passed.”
“Is he going to choose another one?”
She nods. “He’s already scheduling more visits, one at the same farm where he chose Rico.”
I shake my head. “The boy was probably what, six? Seven? Julius had at least another decade before he’d be forced to take a Second.”
“No one is ever forced to take a Second.”
“I know that, it was a figure of speech. But no one forced the rebels to blow up that hospital, either.”
“I guess they figured the price was worth it.”
“Maybe we’re all just a bunch of serial killers. We’ve merely got private sponsorship and governmental immunity on our side.”
“Then, why are you doing it?” She links her hand with mine and traces her thumb along the pads of my fingers.
“Mira and I talked. She said that this Act was more important than her, than me, and that it needed to pass. It goes along with something she said at the farm about how she doesn’t want any other children to have to go through this.” I look down at my hands folding in my lap. Wrinkled and thin-skinned, spotted with dark patches and nearly transparent in others. They don’t look like hands that can change the world.
“But you don’t have to kill her to get it passed. Someone else can do it.”
“Do you want to see me die, woman?” She closes her eyes, and I know my words have cut her.
“Of course not. I love you. You know that, but none of us have the right to choose one life over another.”
“What if it’s one life over hundreds of thousands?”
“Even then, I wouldn’t want to be the one to choose. Are they really going to do it tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.”
“Then there’s nothing more I can say, is there?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. But thank you, Ellie, for everything you’ve done for me, everything you’ve been throughout the years. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She leans down, kisses me softly on the forehead, much like a mother would kiss her child, then walks out, softly closing the door behind her.
A sea of little crosses comes to mind, stark and sadder than anything I’ve seen in a very long time. A teenage girl kneels before them, tears streaming down her face. I take a deep breath and push the button next to my bed.
“I’d like to place a call to the medical center, please.”
“Of course, sir.” As I wait for someone to come on, I reach over the side of the bed and dig my hands into the scruff of Ben’s neck. His tail thumps on the floor as I scratch.
“Smithsonian Medical Center. May I ask who is calling?”
“This is Socrates. I’d like to speak to head physician Ronald Adams, please.”
“Sure, sir, let me transfer you.” The line goes silent for a few seconds.
“Hello, Socrates. This is Dr. Adams. How may I help you? Everything is on schedule for your procedure, and we’re very excited to help you make this transition as smoothly and safely as possible.”
“I do have one request to make, and I apologize for it being at the last minute.”
He pauses. “Of course, sir. What is it?”
“I’ve grown partial to a particular doctor whom I’d like to have dispense my personal medication. Have you encountered this before?”
“Of course. Many Firsts favor certain physicians. What’s his name? I’ll let the other doctors know and clear him with security.”
“Dr. James Scoffield.” Sweat beads at the back of my neck. What if he refuses my request?
“Hmm. I can’t say I’ve heard of him. Are you sure? If he hasn’t participated in the procedure, we don’t want to risk anything going wrong. Our doctors have a great deal of experience, but we still don’t want to take any chances.”
“I can assure you that Dr. Scoffield is one of the premier doctors in his field, and I would feel most comfortable having him by my side. If he were unable to attend, for any reason, I’m not positive I’d be able to go through with it.”
“Then, it’s done, and we’ll also have plenty of other medical professionals o
n duty in case of emergency.”
“Great. Thank you, Dr. Adams.” Can he hear the relief in my voice? I smile, rubbing behind Ben’s ears.
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then?”
“Of course, thank you again.” The screen goes blank, and I lay back on my bed, hands folded in front of me.
Ben hops up and lays his head on my lap. With one hand, I stroke the top of his skull between his eyes. It’s his favorite spot. He melts, sinking into the bed. When I get to a certain spot at the base of his neck, his left rear leg kicks sporadically.
“You’re such a good boy, Ben.” His tail thumps. “The best friend I ever could have asked for. You’ve always been here for me. Helped me, the only one besides Ellie I can trust. I know—I know that it’s going to be hard but…” I stop petting him, and he tilts his head to look up at me. His big black eyes look deep into my soul. As if he knows exactly what I’m going to ask him.
“You’ll be—you’ll be good for Mira, won’t you, boy?” The dog sighs, almost as if in response, and wags his tail again.
“She’ll need your help. She’ll be all alone, and I won’t be here to tell her what to do. She won’t have anyone by her side.”
I shake my head. God, if only Ellie could hear me now, talking to a dog. I look back at Ben. He’s not just a dog. “You’ll be her rock, won’t you, boy?” My voice cracks and thick, sticky tears cloud my vision. “You’ll be the best dog ever for her, won’t you? She’s going to need you.”
Ben crawls up further on the bed so he’s right next to me, whines, and licks my hand.
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