Be Thou My Vision (The Population Series)

by Elizabeth, Cori

  I look to the floor, face so burning with shame that I’m glad for the darkness. “I know.”

  “Io.” A laugh rises in the voice. “I’m kidding!”

  And then a pair of arms embraces me, followed by another and another. When they finally retreat my eyes are wet with tears. A few solitary points of light flare up around us, just enough to illuminate the three grinning faces before me, a spectrum of color: one dark, one tanned, and one pale. They look nothing alike, but they’ve been inseparable for as long as I’ve known them. Harry, Eddy, and Aiden. Brothers of circumstance.

  Aiden reaches over and violently extricates Daniel from behind the column, surveying him for a moment before declaring, “You’re not Henrick.”

  Daniel shakes his head in agreement and smiles uncertainly.

  “You’re not an Optic either.”

  Again, Daniel shakes his head.

  “Certainly not a Neither.” Aiden narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You’re not a Governor, are you?”

  Daniel has the good sense to inject an element of urgency into his reassurance. “No, no. Not a Governor.”

  With a shake of his head, Aiden abruptly snaps, “Then who are you?”

  Daniel pauses for a long time, looking torn and anxious. Even his unimpeded optimism can’t withstand such uncertainty about his own past, least of all when he struggles to answer even a simple question presented by a stranger. Finally, he shrugs and says, “I don’t know.”

  Aiden grins and extends a hand. “Do any of us? We like you, especially if you’re here with this one.” He nods toward me. “I’m Aiden. Welcome to our city.”

  Those last four words, I remember, are one of their internal codes. Something of an all-clear, because the moment he states them the whole city comes to life behind him. Lights flare up – small bulbs, stolen hand-lights from the guards, tiny flames and even full fires – and various Neithers resume whatever daily activities they had suspended instantaneously at the possibility of danger. In the massive room, though the walls are coated with stray drips of water and a layer of grime encroaches from all around, the rows of homes, maybe thirty in total, glow warmly, invitingly, in the flickering light. The myriad materials comprising the ramshackle little huts means that no two are completely alike, and while some are single rooms, no more than a couple of meters tall and wide, those built along the walls sometimes stretch two or three stories into the air with odds and ends jutting out in all directions. A group of children comes flying around the corner, in hot pursuit of a leader who chants some rhyme not heard anywhere else in the city.

  You are a Governor, you are a guard,

  Run now and catch me, it’s not that hard!

  I am an Optic, I am a Neither

  But I bet you couldn’t catch a Plenty either.

  And when they finally do manage to obey his taunting commands, they throw themselves on top of him, building a pile of squealing children three or four deep.

  “Harlem’s it!” someone yells, and they take off again, pursued from behind by the rebuke of a woman mending a shirt, a mess of scrap fabric of all varieties, in the doorway of her home.

  From the far side of the room, some thirty or forty meters away, a trio of figures, dressed in black, slips into sight, empty handed except for what appear to be three bundles of fabric. But these aren’t guards, just Neithers dressed for the darkness. One of them, a woman, calls out to Aiden and he jogs away to meet the group.

  “So. Six years, Io,” Harry says, feigning displeasure but smiling even behind it. “Something must really be wrong if you’re coming to visit us again now.”

  What he isn’t expecting is for me to nod, entirely seriously. The expression on his face betrays his surprise.

  “Up there, too?” he asks gloomily, and the pain in his voice breaks my heart.

  “What happened down here?” I question, but I almost don’t want to know. The Neithers live an uncommonly hard life at times.

  “Nothing has really happened,” Harry explains. “Not exactly. It’s something that’s been happening for a while now, a long term problem. There’s just not enough food. They guard this area so heavily that we can barely get out – in fact, it’s a miracle you got in – so we can only get to the stores once every couple of weeks.”

  “And sometimes when we get there, they’re empty,” Eddy adds, pointing to the trio talking to Aiden. “It’s a one-shot thing. If there’s nothing in the first store, there isn’t time to check another one before the guards come. We’ve got enough for one more night, maybe two, but after that…” He looks solemnly around at the haphazard rows of shacks, at the light spilling from the cracks in the construction revealing the inhabitants inside. “It’s a hard thing to feed fifty mouths.”

  Harry claps him on the shoulder. “But it’ll all work out in the end. It’ll be okay.”

  Eddy nods, though perhaps not so confidently, and reiterates, “It will be okay.” The mantra of the Neithers.

  “But enough of our troubles. Let’s have tea.” With one arm wrapped around my shoulders, another around Daniel’s, Harry marches us toward a hut on the far side of the room set farther forward from the rest, fit with a series of narrow, slit-like windows facing the main access point to the city. As the de facto protectors of the Neither colony, this is where Aiden, Eddy and Harry likely spend most of their time.

  Before I can object, Harry trades the pile of linens in my hands for a steaming cup that almost burns my palms. He pushes a pair of squared-off stones toward us with his foot, his hands occupied by a boiling pot.

  “Sit, sit. And drink! I’ve got a feeling that you owe us a very long explanation.”

  Daniel and I obey, and within a few moments, after Aiden has ducked in to join us, the command is finally uttered.

  “Okay, Io. We let you into our city without a password, but there’s a price to be paid for that. Information. You, friend, are obligated to tell us everything that has happened in your life during the past six years. That’s a long time, so get talking.”

  And so, in no position to decline after their unhesitant hospitality, I do. I tell them about the presentation of the Last Chance and the chip in my head, about meeting Ruth and James and how I grew to love them despite myself, about the routine I developed in six years and then shattered in two weeks. I tell them with shaking hands about Henrick becoming a Governor, and with intermittent snickers about our escape from the medical building. With Daniel’s input, I tell them of rescuing him from the guard and keeping him in the closet, and with tears in my eyes I recount the air of desperate rebellion at the meeting, the panic as the guards flowed in, my trepidation at Mack’s threats, my horror at seeing Henrick with the Governors and the terror of my encounter with the guards. I tell them how I had to say goodbye to Ruth and then run with Daniel here, and when I finish, their spirited amicability has melted into stern, silent practicality.

  “So you guys need to stay here, then,” Aiden finally says, never looking away, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes as I nod.

  He considers me for a moment, reading the desperation I’m working unsuccessfully to keep off of my face, and says, “Okay.”

  I look up, but only to stare at him in disbelief. “What?”

  He shrugs as Harry and Eddy nod in simultaneous agreement. “Okay. Or ‘of course’, if you prefer it that way. Why would we ever turn away a friend in need?”

  “Because the Governors are looking for me,” I protest, though it seems that everyone in the room, me included, is wondering why I’m arguing against myself. “Because you guys don’t even have enough food to feed yourselves. Because I’ve been a terrible friend and I haven’t come to visit until now, only when I need help.”

  Aiden reaches behind him for the pot now kept warm over a small fire and calmly refills my half-empty cup. “And what kind of friends would we be if we turned you away just because of some disagreeable circumstances and a petty imbalance you seem to think exists. I mean, think about it. Did we ever vis
it you in six years?”

  “That’s different. Of course you didn’t visit me. You couldn’t. The Governors and –.”

  “Enough.” With a rough gesture, Aiden cuts at even the sound of my voice. “Nothing you say is going to change our mind, so you might as well save your breath. We just have to clear it with the boss, and then you’re welcome to stay as long as you want or need. We may put up with a lot of crap down here, but we have something no one else in this city can offer. Freedom. Come be free with us, Io Mira.”

  He glances over at Daniel. “And you too. Sorry, forgot your name.”

  The Door

  “He said to take a right here, right?”

  Daniel pads up silently beside me at the T-intersection of two strikingly different tunnels: one dark and humid, so devoid of any luminescence that we had to borrow one of the Neithers’ lights just to navigate through it; and the other so brilliantly lit that we had to shield our eyes to see anything at all when we reached the other’s end.

  “I think so,” he says, though his voice lacks the inspiring confidence that would make me believe him.

  Within moments of voicing their approval, Aiden, Harry and Eddy brought us before the leader of the Neithers, an old soul named Mason who wears panes of plastic over his eyes just like the guards, a man who has been worn blunt by life itself. Born and raised in a Neither colony, he survived all of the Governors’ purges and kidnappings throughout his childhood and emerged two decades later a strong young man and an eager defender of his city. He was a passionate speaker, capable of inspiring in his comrades unprecedented hope and an unmatchable thirst for justice. For years he served as their informal leader, until a grave miscalculation ended him up in the hands of a resentful Governor, who took it upon himself to blind him in a manner not nearly as passive or gentle as that administered to the Plenties. The Neithers eventually rescued him, but he was left mangled and broken by the doings of the Governors, unable to serve or assist except with his brilliant, if damaged mind. But with time, Mason came to be their wisest and most trusted advisor, earning the title of “boss” and the respect of every person, Neither or not, who crossed his path.

  Upon hearing of our plight, he endorsed with unhesitant acceptance the hospitality of the three young protectors who had deposited us at his feet, but also made the point of agreeing with my objections. They were wanting for food, no point denying it, and to accept fugitives into their midst would only further strain the already-precarious relations within the colony. So a bargain would be struck, he said, to prove to the other Neithers that we were earning our keep. Since the Neithers assigned to the job had failed, though by no fault of their own, to retrieve food for the week from the food stores, he wanted to send us instead. A rare second shot with the opportunity for a different strategy.

  So he handed us a key, stolen away by no small feat of bravery from under the Governors’ noses, drew us by touch alone a crude map in the dust of the floor, and sent us on our way with five empty sacks: three for Daniel and two for me. Fill these, Mason said, and nobody here can question our choice to protect you.

  Without deliberation, even Daniel recognizing that there was no other option, we agreed, and we took off into the darkness, leaving our safety behind in the welcoming hands of our renewed friends.

  The pristine white walls of the tunnel seem to glow by their own power as they widen out before us, until the arch of the ceiling is four meters wide and five meters tall. The dust doesn’t reach here, because a brisk burst of air pulsing through the space every few seconds rips it all away before it finds anything to cling onto. In the distance I can hear rumbling, not unlike the monorail, but I know for certain that we’re far too deep into the Mass for that, farther than I’ve ever been before. The key Mason presented to us granted us entry to a door I’ve never even found, much less found a way past, in my life.

  Daniel sniffs the air beside me and glances all around. I follow suit, and find swept into my unsuspecting nostrils a sort of scent that can’t be described in terms of anything I’ve ever smelled before. It isn’t sweet or sour, rank or appetizing, overwhelming or tantalizing. It’s a light scent, that much I’m sure of, and sharp and cool, even to the point of refreshment. There’s a hint of water in it, the cleanest and freshest water, but only a hint. It’s cleansing and pure and clear, too, but most of all it’s bright. A bright color. Green, I think. Whatever it is that I’m smelling, I’m certain that the best word to describe it is green.

  Daniels stops me with a touch on my shoulder when we come to face a door, the only breach in the austerity of the hallway.

  “Do you hear anyone coming?” he whispers, and I shake my head, certain that we’ve arrived at the place. This is exactly what Aiden, Harry and Eddy described.

  “Then I guess we should get on with it.”

  He reaches forward and enters a four-digit code given to us by the Neithers. A lock triggers, and Daniel pushes the door open.

  Except for the atrium somewhere above or behind us, the room stretching out into the distance beyond is the largest space I’ve ever seen. The walls are unpainted, but the lights overhead shine so bright that they seem to glow white anyway, a backdrop that concedes the focus of the room only to two uniform rows of piles, one along either wall. To the left, mounds of tiny green pellets reach for the ceiling, mirrored on the right by stacks of identical yellow. The scent, the green, is overwhelming, and some instinct buried deep inside of me triggers a strange rumble in my stomach. Though it looks nothing like white mush, something in me knows that this is food, and good food at that.

  Daniel sniffs again beside me, but there’s a different quality to it. He steps tentatively toward the nearest pile, dragged both forward and backward by the heavy weight of memory, and grabs a handful of the tiny yellow pieces with a shaking hand. They flow out from between his parted fingers like water and land with a pitter-patter on the floor below.

  He breathes in sharply again and falls to his knees before I realize what’s happening. And then, without any words of explanation whatsoever, he breaks down into crippling sobs.

  “Daniel…” I begin uneasily, kneeling beside him because I have no idea what else I can do. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

  Each gasp of air wracks his body almost to the point of convulsion, as though he has lost control of himself: body, mind, emotions and all. His face is pressed to the floor, covered by hands that have clenched into fists. Fear blossoms deep in my chest, fear that can only come from witnessing pain that can’t be understood, can’t be helped. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in such a condition, not even a victim of the guards. Only a memory comes to mind, a flash of searing pain through my whole skull, a strange sensation of energy draining effortlessly away into the brightest pair of lights I’ve ever seen in my life. Is this what I looked like to the Governors six years ago?

  “I don’t get it,” Daniel weeps, torn between frustration and anguish. “It hurts, but I don’t know why!”

  “What do you mean? Where does it hurt? Your wrists?” I guess, thinking that maybe his injuries have flared up again after all of this exertion, plaguing him with these crippling waves of pain.

  “No, no,” he moans. “My heart.”

  “Your chest?”

  “My mind. My memories.” His voice begins to fail, but he fights to explain. “I don’t understand. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember pain.” He holds it together just long enough to look up at me, despairing red eyes framed by a pallid face. “I think I had to watch someone I loved die.”

  Before I even have a chance to consider what he has said, the door slams open behind us. Eyes obscured by panes of plastic take in the scene before them, widening in surprise at finding the intruders sobbing on the floor in front of the food instead of stealing it. The guard doesn’t react until I shift, still on my knees, to face him, and he catches a glimpse of the empty sack strewn beside me.

  “What are you doing?” he demands – as though we’re goin
g to answer – and reaches for his club. Daniel is the first to take to his feet, and he pulls me back beside him as he retreats in time with the guard’s advance.

  “I chased you Neithers away from here once tonight, and I’m not going to do it again,” he warns, but even as he does Daniel is already pulling at my sleeve to drag me off to the side. The guard is going to be chasing us whether he likes it or not.

  I take off between two of the piles, struggling to find even footing as stray pellets flatten and roll beneath my unsteady steps. Daniel disappears somewhere above me, scrambling awkwardly up the pile itself, and massive sections of the mound shift underneath him to the floor. When he launches himself off of it, whatever structural integrity kept the pile stable disintegrates, and the whole thing tumbles down into the path of the guard behind us. Hindered if only for a moment, he immediately falls behind and Daniel grabs my hand, quick even with a limp because of his long legs.

  “We need to get out,” he whispers urgently, dodging between both rows of piles again to throw off the guard. Whatever pain so plagued him just moments ago has been forced out of his mind, at least for now. “Not just out of here. Out of the whole city.”

  I almost forget to run for a moment, and only the steady pull of Daniel on my arm keeps me going. “Out? We can’t get ‘out’. Out is with the Neithers, out is here. We’ve already tried out.”

  “There’s more to it than you think, Io. So much more. We’re going out out.”

  Very suddenly the leader, he pushes me behind a vertical air duct and motions with his hand for me to keep silent. I peek my head around the opposite side just in time to watch the guard huffing past down the center of the room, glancing to either side as he goes and pausing periodically to listen.