by Nirina Stone
This is where they once had John Diamond imprisoned, so I know my way around. He won’t be there though. He was one of the hundreds of inmates at the Equator Prison and has since been executed. I’ll never see him and his steel-gray eyes again.
When I turn a corner, I still see no one—just a stack of boxes full of supplies. I already know before I get to the door to the cells, I won’t find the girl here. They would never leave prisoners unguarded, and I can see and smell that there has been no one in the Iliad cells in months.
Alright, so it’s likely the prisoner will be on land somewhere. But where do I start?
I decide to take a walk to the brown building, where I know Blair and his men are stationed. They won’t let me anywhere inside—that’s a given—but if they’re imprisoning anyone, it could make sense that they’re there.
When I walk up to the building, I see that a copta is parked on its roof, gleaming in the sunlight like a big silver bird. Mother must be back, then. I wonder where she was off to this time. I wonder if she’ll tell me anything about these people that Blair has imprisoned.
She was supposed to be away for a few weeks—I wonder what had her rush back to Haven.
Walking up to the door, I’m stopped by one of Blair’s men. “Mason,” he says, with a nod. “Are you here to see the general?”
“Yes,” I reply, thinking it’s as good a reason as any, to get me through the first set of doors. I have no clue how I’ll get past any other set of doors though.
“One moment,” he says, then he speaks in the Soren language into his headpiece.
I expect him to open the door and let me through, but instead a holographic image floats up beside him. It’s Mother—somewhere in the building and not letting me in.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Nice to see you too, Mother. “I need to ask you something,” I say.
“Can it wait when I get home, Romy?” As if her voice isn’t impatient enough, she frowns and looks up and past me, her eyes on someone else.
“Mother—General Mason,” I say. “I want to know about the people.” I shift my eyes to the guard, then back at her again. “The other people. May I please come in?”
Her eyes dart back to me, and she leans forward—exactly the way Strohm did before.
For a moment, I’m brought back to my conversation with him and realize just how alike they are.
“Romy,” she says. “I’m in the middle of something right now, sweetheart. Let’s talk at home.” And the image disappears. Not so much as a ‘see you soon.’
I’m suddenly embarrassed—everyone I’ve talked to today is brushing me aside like I’m a fly. I’ve always known that my not being part of the military meant I’m left largely in the dark on matters of security, but surely I should be clued in on a few things? I’m a Legacy, for crying out loud. I helped bring down Prospo City, and am now helping to build Haven. Surely—
The guard doesn’t budge, but keeps his eyes on me until I turn and walk away.
What in the hell is going on here? I look at the surrounding houses, knowing people will move in, in a matter of weeks.
Our community will bustle with kids, never again be as quiet as it is right now. Kids like her. Where is she?
I’m out of options, though. I must think of a way past security, but what? I head back to the forest where I saw her before they caught her. Maybe I’ll find clues there. The chances are slim, but I’ll take them.
The hill is chillier at the top, so I pull my jacket closer around me as I search. There’s nothing, of course. It’s not like she’d have anything on her that would have fallen off. I walk up the path she ran, keeping my eyes on the ground. Now and then, I see small footsteps in the mud. I’m no tracker, though. Soon, they disappear into thin air, as if she was simply plucked into the sky. There’s nothing.
I sit Mother down when she finally makes her way home. She watches me as intently as Strohm did on the MirrorComm.
“Who are they?” I say. No need to elaborate—she’ll know exactly who I mean.
“Just harmless travellers, Romy. Nothing to worry about.” She gives me a soft smile.
But if there’s nothing to worry about, why isn’t she sharing any details with me?
“Why didn’t you tell me about them, Mother? And why is the commander holding them?”
Before she can say it’s intel, I yell, “Mother, will you please tell me what’s going on?”
She flinches back as if my yell startles her. I’ve never yelled at Mother before.
“They are a security problem, Romy.”
“But why?” I say. I see a flash of big green eyes again, the fear and the anger.
She doesn’t answer. “I’ve found you an assignment,” she says instead. Great, I’m obviously not about to get any information from her. I roll my eyes to the ceiling and lean away. Some Legacy I am.
“They need a robotics specialist to help test all the new MirrorComms in the houses. You start tomorrow.”
It sounds like something that I’d find interesting. Yet, I hear myself say, “What if I’d like to join Blair’s team instead? What if I want to follow in your footsteps and join the military effort?”
She frowns and gives me a slight smile. “Is that really something you’d want, Romy?”
Definitely not, I think, but it would give me access to their intel, wouldn’t it?
When I don’t respond right away, Mother says, “It’s interesting, because I was thinking of shipping you back to Apex to be beside Strohm as he leads.”
What? What does she mean, that she sees me as a leader too? It would make sense, given that I am a Legacy. Except I’ve never led a thing or a person in my life—I’ve always been more inclined to follow, to be told what to do, then doing it. Or not. I’ve always been a worker.
There’s nothing in me remotely similar to any characteristic I’ve noticed in our Leaders. Mother knows that, too.
“I do wish,” she says, “that you and Knox were closer. She’d be able to educate you more on what it’s like now.”
Knox? What in the world does my ex-bunkmate have to do with anything? And on what what’s like, now? Apex? Liberty? Because Knox hasn’t been back there since we moved here to Haven. I think of my old bunk mate and her brood of kids. Then I realize what Mother’s implying.
“You don’t want me in Apex to lead,” I say. “You want me to be Eric’s—” surrogate, I finish in my head.
It makes sense. Apex is a very different state from the one we left. The Sorens are keen to fill it with new people—we need to repopulate fast or our kind will disappear within the next generation.
That would be unfortunate, considering how hard we’ve worked to get to this. How hard we work to get Haven ready for the new people. Still, I’m one of the builders, I think, I’m one of the knowledge workers. I really should have expected that part of my responsibility as a Soren is to help populate. It’s on all of us to help create the new generation. No one is exempt.
Still, I haven’t thought about it that much—the Sorens, unlike the Prospo of old, value choice. Don’t they?
Mother’s eyes shine bright, and she nods. “Eric’s wife,” she says. “With you two at the helm, Apex will rise into what Grandma Mason and the rest of them always imagined. It will be magnificent.”
“Mother—Eric and I—” Eric and I what? Don’t have that sort of relationship? I don’t know how to define anything about him.
“I’m not going back to Apex,” I say.
The moment the words come out of my mouth, I know that part of my life is long over. We brought down Prospo City and their so-called ‘Clothing Factories’ that were really forced-Ivy Heff Clinics. We liberated all the Citizens who are now helping build that side of the world to what it should be.
My life is here, in Haven, where I can help define just what the society will be like from the beginning, not from the middle or the end, like they’re doing over there. I fit here, I think. I love it here—this
is the home I’ve always imagined. And it’s even more exciting than I let myself believe before. I mean, I get to help create a new society from scratch. How many people—least of all, poor ex-Citizens—get to claim something like that?
As for Eric—
“He’s not moving here,” I say. “What you’re picturing is impossible.”
“Why?” she asks. “Why not? Why won’t you consider moving back there? We need you back there more than you are needed here.” Her words echo in my head but I can’t understand why I’d be needed more there than here. “Strohm needs you there,” she says.
I recall the last few conversations Eric and I had over the MirrorComm and frown at her.
Despite our few stolen kisses on the Iliad, Eric and I never discussed needing each other—in fact, our conversations have never turned serious in that department.
Now, Mother wants me to become his wife? What about the part in the middle, I think, where I actually should—I don’t know—feel something for him first?
I’m confused, and I really don’t want to talk about Strohm or Apex or surrogacy any more. So I say, “What do I need to bring to do the MirrorComm testing tomorrow?”
At least the assignment is something. At least it will keep her from insisting that I move back to Apex.
I want to ask her more about the people, I want to talk to her about the girl.
Instead, I listen to her response, then thank her and head to my room.
When I leave the house for my new assignment the next morning, Mother’s long gone. I can’t begin to guess when she’ll be back home.
My assignment is simple—go into each home and test the MirrorComms, having a quick chat with Comms stationed on the Iliad and in Apex each time.
It’s a job that will take days to complete, but at least it will keep me busy, and it will keep me from thinking about the girl too much.
So I tell myself.
I walk into the next home on the list and make my way into the study where the MirrorComm is set up. The house is quiet, and I’m done testing in a matter of minutes. I look around the house, wondering which family will end up living here.
The house is nondescript, given that it’s identical to every single other one on the block. The walls are a soft neutral colour, matching the ceiling and trim. Even the furniture is neutral—soft browns and beige and light yellow. The only thing with a pop of colour is the small blue Buildersbot in one corner of the livingroom.
People will just move in, not needing to worry about things as basic as furniture. Once they settle in, they can open the Buildersbot and go nuts. They can instruct it to build whatever they want to fit into the house, whether it’s an additional couch or more chairs. Whatever it is pre-programmed to make in 3D.
I’ll be on-call to help out of course. Several of the people won’t know where to begin to use such a thing, but then there’s a lot they must get used to.
Many people from Apex will have a difficult time adjusting to the space and the sunlight and the—what was that?
Hearing an unfamiliar noise, I turn to the MirrorComm, wondering if the testers on the other side are trying to reach me again. All I see is my reflection in the still glass. My skin has browned nicely in the natural light of Haven. Mother won’t be happy though. I hear the sound again and, thinking it’s behind me, turn to face an empty house.
The sound gets louder and louder and before I know it, it’s all around me. I turn again, but there’s no one else in the room besides me. I wonder if it’s something outside the house. It’s not a sound I’ve ever heard. It’s a hissing, crackling, continuous sound, getting louder every second. I stand to head outside, but the sound stutters and goes away the moment I move. I sit back down and hear the hiss. When I stand, it silences again. What is that?
I sit down and wait. When the soft hiss starts up again, I realize it’s in my ears. It’s in my head. What in the world is going on? I want to get up and run, but I freeze when the sound gets so loud, it’s deafening.
The hiss turns into a muffled roar and I cover my hands over my ears to contain the sound. Is my head about to explode? Then the sound cuts off mid-hiss and I hear one word.
“Don’t—” Just the one word, “Don’t—” being repeated every ten or so seconds. “Don’t—”
My head pops up suddenly and I stare at my face in the MirrorComm. “Don’t,” the voice says again.
My eyes are wider now, my cheeks pale. Because it’s a voice I recognize instantly. “Don’t—” he says.
It’s a voice that has sung me to sleep since I was a little girl. A voice that has been a source of comfort to me, though not for a good three years. “Don’t—” he says again. It’s Father’s voice.
“Father?” I say to the MirrorComm, though I know it’s not the source of the sound. “Don’t—” he says again, and I wait, but that’s all he says.
My eyes water, and I quickly wipe them dry. It reminds me of the time I was first kidnapped by the Sorens, and I was hallucinating after days of no water and no food. Could I be hallucinating again? I doubt it, but I wait. Nothing changes. He still keeps saying, “Don’t—” and nothing else.
“Don’t what, Father?” I ask myself in the mirror.
“Don’t—” he says. I stay frozen in my spot. I don’t know how long I’ve sat there, but eventually he stops saying, “Don’t.”
Then the hissing, crackling sound is back, louder than before. I hold my hands to my ears again, as if to hold my brain together, to keep it from leaking out through my ears.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the hissing is gone. I hear a bird shriek outside the window, and everything else is silent.
“Father?” I ask the mirror. “Father?” but there’s no response, no hissing, nothing. I know it couldn’t possibly be Father, of course. I watched him get taken away, not gently, from my life.
Mother had Sorens check if he was in the Equator prison. There was no sign of him.
Usually, in Apex, if someone disappears without another sign for years, it translates to them being dead.
But then, Mother disappeared for years—and Mother was alive—could it be possible Father is alive, somewhere?
I doubt it—things don’t work out that way. I couldn’t be that lucky a second time. Chances are higher that I’m hallucinating.
I turn away from the mirror and wonder if I should go visit the doctor again. Maybe his nanite booster did something to my brain.
Or maybe this is linked to the bizarre illness that had me in bed for days on end, but why would I hear Father’s voice? And what would happen if the doctor fixes it? What’s so bad about hearing Father’s voice again? Sure, the hissing part is not so great, but it doesn’t last that long. It would be worth it.
I decide against going to see the doctor and go about finishing up my testing. If there’s something wrong with my nanites or my brain, I’ll deal with it later. I hope to hear Father’s voice again.
I’m done my duties for the day. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon, so I decide to walk up to my spot on the hill again. The row of houses below reminds me of tiny waves on the ocean shore, about to break on the sand. Small white crests in a curve, flowing in a row like a small bubble army.
I sit for a while and, when I hear rustling behind me, I jump up instinctively. Guess they didn’t catch her after all.
I turn and run, though she’s already got her back to me, running up the hill with an unnatural speed. Sun rays poke through the trees and glint off her small freckled shoulders.
This time, I’m prepared—the burn in my thighs motivates me to push forward harder. She’s nearly at the top where she disappeared on me, last time.
So I leap, knowing that the landing will hurt both of us, but it’s worth it. My hands slam into her back and as she stumbles forward, I wrap my arms tight around her torso and fall on top of her.
She yelps like an animal and twists as we fall. My arms scrape against the ground under her and I wince. That’ll hurt�
�the nanobots will heal me fast though now that I have the boosters.
She makes a grunting wail of a sound and flips in my arms, so that she faces me. Her green eyes are stone cold, glaring into mine, and she punches and scratches at me. She bares her teeth, still struggling to escape. I almost expect her to growl or hiss like a cat, but she’s quiet.
“Stop!” I say. I stare into her eyes. They dart back and forth, looking for a weapon, I’d imagine. “I don’t want to hurt you.” But she doesn’t stop struggling until I hold her wrists tight on the ground in a vice grip. Her arms go slack and she finally lays her head back on the ground. “Who are you?” I ask.
Her eyes shift nervously again, then she whispers something soft. I don’t hear it, so I bend my head slightly. That’s not my first mistake.
She leans back and brings her head forward so fast, I miss it. There’s no mistaking the crunch as her head rams into my front teeth, and cracks some of them. I grunt, but hold on tighter to her wrists. The pain in my mouth fights to gain my full attention, but my hands don’t budge from her wrists.
Until she lays her head back again and rams it into my face, again, and again, and again. The pain in my mouth radiates to my nose, cheeks, temples. My nose gushes with blood, and all I can see is a blur when my eyes fill with water.
The pain is unbearable, but I still refuse to let go. That is, until she headbutts me one more time and the world goes dark.
4
They
They’ve held me for a week, the people with the girl. At least, I think it’s a week. I use a nail to scratch a small corner of the wall, every time I think a day has passed by, and there are seven tiny scratches.
The wall is made of metal, but a softer metal than I’m used to. The scratches are tiny, but noticeable if you know they’re there.
The people don’t speak to me, and they ignore my questions. They bring me food and water twice a day and watch me, sometimes.
My first night here was painful. The nanobots worked hard to knit my face back together, but it took a while. I guess the booster did little to make them work faster. My front tooth still has a small crack in it, and my tongue bleeds often when I run it across. I’m keeping the nanites busy as they work to fix the large slice I work into my tongue every few hours.