by Nirina Stone
Thanks, Blair.That’s exactly what I need to hear right now. Like I need to feel smaller.
“I guess—” I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to rise up to his challenge. I know he’s just being Blair, trying to make me angry for whatever reason. Well not today. I’m about to get some answers from Eric, the last thing I need is to lose focus because Blair’s egging me on.
“If it’s any consolation,” he says, “I’m only here because I brought you. Since Mornie’s memories couldn’t be restored, they don’t have a need for my DNA. I was simply the Delivery man.”
It’s not really a consolation, I think, considering what he had to go through to get me here. I don’t answer.
“Okay,” he says. “You ready to have a chat with your fiance?”
Fiance? That’s hardly what Eric is to me, I think, but I know Blair’s just teasing anyway. Before I can answer or refute the term, Eric’s face takes up the space of the 3D image and he’s smiling down at me.
“I thought you were dead,” he says. His eyes light on Blair, and I catch a small frown and a flash of something, then his eyes come back to me.
“Well I’m not,” I say. Seeing his face in 3D is more confronting than I expect. He still has the same heavy bags under his eyes. His hair’s shorter, taking away from his normally boyish looks. In fact, he looks more like a Leader than the Interviewer Strohm I knew. More serious. More severe. What in Odin is going on in Apex?
Before I can ask, Blair says, “What happened in Haven, Leader Strohm?”
Eric’s face turns to him and his eyes narrow. “You tell me,” he says. “Last time I heard from you, all was well there. People were moving in. Then you went rogue and you kidnapped her.”
“Rogue?” Blair huffs out. “I had to get her out of there before they found her guilty for starting the fires, and you know it.”
The words trigger something in Eric and he starts yelling at Blair, who yells right back at him. I can’t keep up with most of the conversation but what I do extract from it makes me lose a step.
“We were allocated an area,” Blair yells, “and we had an agreement with them. But no. It wasn’t enough for the general was it?”
Apparently, the Metrills had allowed the Sorens to live in that specific area of the north, and allowed us to plant, to harvest, to live there. Mother had agreed to be their key to unlock Rosemary Mason’s memories. Then Mother wanted more.
Once she found out how advanced they were, she wanted their technology. She reneged on their deal when it was clear the Metrills weren’t about to share any of their tech. By any means necessary, I can hear her say in my head.
Blair continues to yell at Strohm. “We had a decent living. Why did we have to get greedy?”
“Greedy?” Eric yells back. “Greedy? What do you think is going on out here, Blair? Do you think we’re living in ease out here? Do you believe everything’s perfect? We’re still at war, by Odin!”
War? “What are you talking about?” I ask, but of course, my voice is drowned out by their fight. I don’t get how they can understand anything that’s going on either, given how they’re not even listening to each other. But they continue on.
Last thing I knew, Prospo City was taken down. The old Leaders were sent to the Equator prison and to Azure to face their charges, and the new Leaders at Apex were making sure that lifestyle wasn’t allowed to re-emerge. So who are they at war with? It has to be the Metrills, I conclude. After all, they had their harvester destroy everything we built in Haven.
Blair finally waves his hands in the air and sits back while he lets Eric continue.
“They’ve got technology,” Eric says, “that can help us here. Tremendously.”
“Well,” Blair says, “if we can’t win without it, we won’t win. Because they won’t give it up, Strohm. You know that. The general knows it firsthand.”
If there’s one thing I know the Sorens like to do, it’s acquiring their enemy’s technology. Yet, the Metrills aren’t the enemy—from what I see with Blair’s actions around them—so that explains why he’s reluctant.
“We’ve done quite well without their technology so far,” he says. “I think you and the general aren’t focusing on the right thing.”
“Where is she?” I blurt out, taking the calm as my chance to finally speak. “Where’s Mother?”
“On her way back to Apex,” Strohm says, “which is what you should be doing now, too. Not sitting there with the Metrills, doing who knows what?” His eyes land on Blair again before they narrow at me. “What are you doing there, Romy?”
Blair huffs again.
“I’m helping them,” I say. It’s not the exact reason, but Blair’s words before this meeting hit home with me. “I’m helping them sort through some of Rosemary Mason’s memories.”
“And why are you doing that?” Eric asks.
Good question.
“Because I’m curious to know what happened back then too,” I say. “This is my chance to unlock some secrets that you and Mother and Father have kept from me all along.” I didn’t think of it that way until I say those exact words.
His eyes dart between me and Blair again before they finally stay on him. “What’s your role in all this, Blair?” he asks. “What’s your interest?”
When I don’t hear the commander speak, I turn to look at him as his eyes leave my face. What was that about?
“As always, Leader Strohm,” he finally says, “I’m a seeker of the truth.”
Then Eric’s face is gone.
“What—?” I still have so many questions to ask, and he turned off the Comm? “Why did you turn it off?” I ask. “I wasn’t done yet.”
“It’s a waste of time, Rome. I realized we’re not on the same side anymore,” Blair says, staring into the air as though Eric’s face is still floating there. “I wasn’t sure until I spoke with him, but now I’m certain. We’re no longer allies. You and I are alone here.”
I’m still not sure what happened, but my eyes move back to the spot where Eric’s face was.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Blair says. The devilish look is back in his eyes.
“What?” I say, wondering if he’s as worried as I am. War, in Apex, when we left, thinking all was well. When it seemed like things were finally looking up. What have I been doing out here, oblivious to what’s really going on in my own home? Why wasn’t I in touch more often—?
“You’re wondering why you were attracted to Strohm in the first place.”
“What—? I wasn’t thinking—that’s not even—what—?”
His grin widens as he watches me sputter. “Okay, I considered Strohm my brother for a long time. We grew up together.”
I know all that. I often wondered what they could possibly have in common—the Eric that I knew before all this was kind, soft. Blair’s far from that.
“And you,” he says, “you were this passing thing. I didn’t honestly think you’d last long with the Sorens, but there you were. Here you are.”
Okay. The insults keep coming. I watch him, not sure where he’s going with this, but raise an eyebrow to encourage him to continue. If he insults me one more time, he can’t hold me accountable for the violence I bestow on him.
“With everything in a new light, I think it’s safe for me to fill you in with all of it. With why you were attracted to Eric, why you are his fiance, and why you’re supposed to be leading by his side right now.”
My eyebrows perk up at that. It’s not where I expected our conversation to head, but I’m curious to hear his theory now. Actually, if I’m honest with myself, I’m dying to know.
I remember the stolen kisses with Eric. I never had toe-curling heart-pumping sensations when we were together. Just a slow burn, a nice feeling, far from anything passionate. But we did kiss. I often question myself why. It would be interesting to know what he thinks.
“Okay, where do I begin,” he says. He rubs a hand through his hair as if he’s unsure this is
a good idea. “You know that Apex was ruled in such a way that only some people could have children. That most of them are infertile though they’re given the impression all of them were.”
That was life in Apex. Having children required a license and a nomination. Whatever our ancestors did those many years ago rendered us infertile. So we were told. We learnt that it was one of the Prospo lies to keep our society under their control. It turned out to be temporary infertility, due to chemicals pumped into our air and water. Once we destroyed P-City, those chemicals were gone, and those who were not infertile could have children to their heart’s desire.
I often wonder if that’s what happened, considering how freaky the whole idea still is, to me. Surely, I’m not the only one who panicked the first time she met a pregnant woman walking around in society like it was some natural thing? I try not to think of my own surprise pregnancy, but that proves impossible.
“But we’re Legacies,” he says. “We certainly can’t go around having children with just anyone.”
I see him speak the words but they don’t sound right, they don’t sound natural. It’s like he’s repeating someone else’s words. Somehow, I have a feeling I know exactly who.
“When we kidnapped you, we had no idea who you were. We knew you worked with Isaac.” The thought of my old mentor brings up his face, his voice, our many walks. Memories of him still make my insides hurt.
I know that they’d initially kidnapped me so that they could get a ransom from the Prospo family that had employed me, the Diamonds. Turns out, the Sorens had an agreement with Isaac.
He could bid on me at auction and they’d let him win. Then he could have me work with him for a year. Then, they’d come get me. When his year was up, Isaac attempted to negotiate a longer contract.
But a deal’s a deal, and a Soren doesn’t budge on a deal as far as I know.
“Once you confirmed that you were Rosemary Mason’s descendant, oh you should have seen the reactions all across the Iliad.” Blair looks up into the air, as if remembering specific pictures. “It was a celebration of sorts. It was the biggest news we’d hear in a long time. Getting your mom out of the Equator Prison was the only big news after that. It was quite something else. It took a really really long time, but we started believing we were winning this war with the Prospos.”
That’s right—because Blair and Strohm and I are the youngest three Legacies left alive. We’re a symbol of something I still don’t quite understand, but I know it’s huge.
“The first thing your mother said after we broke the news that we had you was that you and Strohm would be perfect. You were already comfortable with him, so she thought it was natural.”
I lean back, remembering my early days on the Iliad. I know that there were interviewers other than Eric who were less busy than he was, who could have easily been charged with watching me and interviewing me. Yet he was selected to stick around, by hand, by Mother. Why him?
“Okay,” I say, “so Mother wanted Eric to hang around with me.” It’s not something new—she hasn’t exactly been subtle about it. It still doesn’t explain why I was attracted to him, though. Now, with distance, I know I have no real interest in him. Why did I back then though, when I was lost most of the time? Even though I had no idea where I stood in that new, unusual world? “Was it chemicals?” I ask, still remembering all the lies and manipulations in Apex. “Was it something in the hot chocolate?”
Blair laughs out. “Nothing quite like that,” he says. “Come on, we’re not Prospo. We don’t go around poisoning people, remember?”
I remember. They don’t deal with chemicals in the same way the Prospo did. They use Truthser and freezebots, but that’s about it. Nothing that would adversely influence someone into doing something they wouldn’t normally do. Otherwise, they’d be no better than the Prospo. Mother had explained it to me that way, but I remember wondering what the difference was. I wonder why I didn’t question it more—after all, both serums take away a person’s ability to choose.
“What’s the difference,” I say to Blair. “Between using poison and using those chems?”
“We-ell,” Blair says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about time you start calling me on b.s. like that. But it’s the beauty of Soren lies, isn’t it? Semantics? Your mother would clarify that ‘poison’ would kill a person.” Then he gives me a big, bright smile.
“Did you never wonder why you felt closer to Strohm during those days on the Iliad, Rome?”
“Of course I did,” I say. “I questioned it every day. But I thought—” I hesitate, remembering who I’m speaking to, remembering his disdain for me in those days. Still, I continue before I change my mind. I decide I can trust Blair with at least this. “I did believe I cared for him. He was interesting, and kind, and funny. I wasn’t being tortured, and I was learning to become more like a Soren. I appreciated him for that.”
Blair doesn’t speak right away, as if to wait for me to continue. But that’s all I allow myself to admit.
“What you had is called Stockholm Syndrome, Rome.” He sighs and looks up at the ceiling before letting his eyes land on me again. “It’s very much a Soren Interviewer tactic. It’s not really all that complicated, and most people are easily manipulated. It’s quite common, really. You should go read up on it. It’s fascinating.”
And where exactly would I go read up on this syndrome? This illness? “There are no libraries here, Blair,” I say. “How exactly will I learn about this disease?”
“Syndrome,” he corrects, “not disease. It’s a psychological thing. Anyway they don’t need libraries here, Rome. They don’t need books. Everything is digital.”
The way it was back in Apex? Do these Metrills have something against books too? Because the Prospos used to destroy all the books they’d find, based on yet another lie about bad bacteria and whatnot. I don’t know what to do if I find out these Metrills have a similar goal in mind.
“There’s too much knowledge they have, but not enough space in their community to keep it all in a physical form. Hence the doctors, the holopersona.
“There are about a dozen of them in this commune. They can answer any questions you have. All their libraries, knowledge, books, history, everything is accessible to the doctors. It’s much better than our archives. More efficient.”
So I’ll go chat with Father’s holopersona, then. He said “the doctors” though. Maybe I can sit and talk with one of the other ones. I still have a hard time looking at Father’s face, listening to Father’s voice, knowing all along that he’s really dead.
I agree with Blair that I’ll have a chat with a holopersona. “But first,” I say, “what’s Eric talking about? War? If we’re at war with the Metrills, why did the Sorens leave?”
He sighs. “The same war we left behind when we destroyed and deserted Apex.” So it’s still the Prospo. “Not all the people there accepted what we did. What we planned to do with the Prospo.”
Well of course the Prospo wouldn’t approve of it. After all, it was their lifestyle we were planning to destroy—their factories, their homes, their money.
“But I thought all the Prospo Leaders were taken care of,” I say.
“They were,” he says, “they are, but they’re not the only ones that all of this has affected. Think about all the Citizens in their employ. Believe it or not, not everyone is happy about being given new sudden freedoms, especially if they’ve lived under someone else’s rule for so long. It’s taxing.”
I’d imagine it’s not the easiest transition, going from being owned by the Prospo, to being let loose on a new world you don’t know.
“Imagine being a Citizen whose sole identity has been in working with a Prospo family most of their lives. Being accustomed to that lifestyle. Imagine what Isaac would do.”
Hmm. “Actually, I think Isaac would have stayed put with the Diamonds,” I say. I remember that he found the Prospo family’s role in Apex as “necessary” as his. He’d wo
rked for three generations of the family by the time we met. He never saw anything wrong with the status quo. Instead, he preferred to call a Vorkian and die than try to live a life of freedom.
“Exactly,” Blair agrees.
I never thought of it that way before, but it all makes sense. It wasn’t a matter of bringing down the Prospo lifestyle that we knew was not the right way for people to live.
It was also taking down the only life, the only living, the only way that a lot of Citizens knew to live. They’d be utterly lost.
“Many of them have come on board without any issues,” Blair says, “but there is a growing group of Citizens and Prospo on the underground that want to bring things back the way they were before we brought it all down.”
They’ll never succeed. There’s far too much now in the open. Far too many lies dispensed of.
“They don’t really know what to do with themselves, Rome,” he says. “Many of them are angry. I think they expected that rebuilding would be easy. That they’d live happier lives. None of it is easy. Not one part of it. It will take years to get to a more liveable state, and many of them were quite comfortable in their old lives, despite their lack of freedom. All of this takes far more work than they’re capable of doing.”
He’s so right.
“But why war?” I ask, knowing full well how naïve I sound right now. Still, it doesn’t register. “Why would they be angry we brought to light the truth of our situation?”
“Because people still love the status quo, Rome. Some people would still rather live in the lie as long as they don’t know it’s a lie. Some people still think it’s the only way to live. The truth is shit.”
I think of Isaac again. I do wonder how he’d do in this new world. I wonder where he’d go.
“Strohm’s leading a team that’s getting angrier by the day,” he says. “They think they should be thanked and treated like heroes for having done what we did. They’re not seeing the kind of praise they expected. It’s shit all around.”