When they returned to 468.99 the instrumental music was fading.
“The song’s over,” Tuna said, stating the obvious.
“Yeah, I can hear,” Adam replied. “Shush.”
First a quiet cough. Was the DJ infected? More static and silence. They glanced at each other anxiously. Tuna turned up the volume hoping to hear the voice again.
“That ends an hour of non-stop melancholia,” the DJ reflected quietly. “A requiem for the world’s final traveler who glides away on the deserted sea, filling his sails with what he calls hope even though the horizon is ever lost, ever beyond his reach.”
The silence that followed was loaded with ideas until they heard a song begin, a whisper of a melody that rose to an echo of longing upon the lonely waters.
Adam bent his face trying to understand. “He said an hour of non-stop melancholia. What did he mean by that?”
“I think he meant sad music,” Tuna concluded. “An hour of sad music for a traveler.”
“A traveler?” Adam spit out as fast as he could. “Maybe he saw Hoss out there.” For the first time optimism washed over Adam. “He saw him alright. We made contact.”
Tuna was less enthused. “Yeah, it’s possible. Sure. That could mean he saw someone and if he did, it would likely be Doctor Hossler.” Tuna stopped, careful not to tread too heavily on Adam’s hope. “Or, maybe, he might be talking about himself, alone on his own boat playing music to no one. Why? He might just mean his music would never be heard, never reach the horizon which would be other people’s ears.”
Despite Tuna’s best efforts, Adam deflated. He looked down and tried to work his way through it all in his mind. Tuna made sense and Adam knew his own weakness. He all too often imagined a world where things were at work out there and where things could and should and would connect.
He was doing that now, imagining a connection where there was only what? A sad, lonely man with a microphone and an antenna spewing out his own measly poetry, his own sense of martyrdom?
“But I think he saw Doctor Hossler,” Tuna finally decided.
All the deadened hope within him returned and overwhelmed Adam. He smiled maniacally at Tuna then grabbed him around his neck and pulled him closer and jumped on his back. They fell to the ground. Adam jumped right back up to pump his fist in the air.
“He did. He saw him, Tuna. You’re right. You’re always right.”
Tuna climbed to his feet and quickly finger brushed his hair back into shape. He was slow to smile but when he did it was a big one.
Adam answered his friend’s welcome smile with another rough, congratulatory slap on the back. Tuna ignored the pain of Adam’s enthusiasm and enjoyed their breakthrough.
They heard a familiar bell just outside the door.
“Come on,” Adam suggested. “It’s potato casserole night in the commissary.”
Tuna lit up even more. At last, Adam Thirdborn was talking his language.
-9-
“Wait. The DJ said that last song ended an hour of music.” Tuna stopped in the corridor just short of the bustling commissary. “That means he would have seen Doc’s boat a full hour before that.”
“That’s right,” Adam added. “So if Doc is eighty or ninety miles out, how far would he have been an hour ago?”
“Let me do the math.” Tuna whispered to himself while calculating. “He’d have been something like sixty-five or seventy-five miles from here an hour ago.” Tuna grinned into Adam’s eyes. “Which means?”
Adam grinned back. “Which means the DJ’s boat might just be sixty-five miles from here.”
They hit each other’s shoulders happily with their right fists, something boys of the Eden Project often did to celebrate.
Zeke stepped out of the kitchen door near them wearing an apron. He bent his face at the curious sight of Adam’s good mood which made him appear like a much younger version of himself.
“Why don’t you two fools grab your trays before we close the kitchen?” Zeke wiped his hands on his apron and shook his head.
They sobered up quick with Zeke present.
“Look at this guy,” Tuna said, pointing at Zeke. “Gen has him wearing aprons. That’s just sad.”
Adam’s smile returned. He slapped Tuna on the back and they walked into the commissary. He took in the faces of all his friends. He walked with Tuna to the food counter where Ada set their trays, but his mind wandered through the commissary walls to the surrounding waters.
Somewhere out there, he imagined, you would find a rusty antenna whispering melodies to the night.
* * *
AT THE TABLE FOR the original eight, Gen was the last to join them. Sylvia scooted over to let Gen sit between her and Cassie. She sat directly across from Tuna who was still glowing from the thrill of discovery.
“Gen, your potato casserole is delish,” Cassie said winking to Tuna who was oblivious to both her banter and her wink.
Gen noticed Tuna’s state of bliss. “Are you okay, Tuna?”
He shifted uncomfortably when all eyes fell on him. He picked up his fork and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m great, potato casserole rocks.” He shoved two huge forkfuls of casserole into his mouth and began to munch slowly.
“That’s disgusting.” Sylvia turned away from the sight of Tuna trying to chew with an over full mouth.
Cassie smiled proudly. The others winced and turned back to their own plates. Not Gen. She kept her eyes on Tuna. He eventually lifted his hands to her in surrender. She finally let him off the hook and took a bite of her own casserole.
“I think he’ll make it,” Ozzie said to no one in particular. “I just don’t know what he’ll find out there.”
No one answered him. Forks stopped moving. Ozzie had given voice to what everyone had been worrying about all day. What would he find out there? What nightmare awaited the old doctor when he stepped foot on land?
“Don’t say it like that,” Maya finally said, upset with Ozzie. “He’ll find his grandson. That’s what.”
Sylvia put her arm casually around Maya in support.
Zeke noticed Gen struggling to find words. “This is not a suitable conversation for dinner.” His words gave her immediate relief releasing her from a great burden. No longer would she have to predict Doctor Hossler’s fate or the fate of his grandson.
“For better or worse, he’ll find answers out there,” Adam said. As always, he was a vacuum, sucking in all their energy.
He brought everything down to its darkest truth. They could not keep their eyes off him. Gen was not alone in this. They could try to resist him, condemn him, even despise him but none could ever turn away from his words. The same curiosities were buried within each kid inside the dome. Deep down in their DNA the truth had been sealed beneath the antiseptic sunshine flooding their all glass home.
“He followed his heart.” Sylvia’s voice finally broke Adam’s spell. Sylvia’s eyes met his eyes. He was pleased when Sylvia smiled shyly.
Their sudden connection stunned Gen. Are they falling in love? What a hypocrite he was, falling in love with his intended. “Followed his heart? Huh!” Gen stopped herself, but it was too late. Sylvia was already hurt and the table riveted by her contemptuous tone. They looked to her to finish her thought. “By tomorrow a pack of infected may be following his heart too, wanting to sauté it for dinner.”
Disgust swept across the stunned table. Tuna spit his casserole out onto his plate. Zeke regarded Gen like she was completely alien to him.
“Gen, what’s got into you?” Cassie said putting her hand on Sylvia’s hand. Sylvia, more confused than hurt, struggled to comprehend why Gen was talking that way.
“That’s so gross, Gen.” Tuna covered his discharged food with a napkin. “You ruined my potato casserole.”
Adam started to laugh which at first disturbed everyone. He took the attention off Gen and his laughter eventually caused Ozzie to stifle a chuckle of his own. Zeke shook his head at them.
“Who
would have believed it?” Adam asked, happily. “Miss Goody Goody has a dark side. My god.”
Intended or not, this lightened the table. When Sylvia smiled, the others joined her. Even Zeke reluctantly became amused. It was Gen’s face. She became madder and madder and it caused everyone to laugh more and more.
Gen knew this was no laughing matter. She knew Doctor Hossler might really be torn apart tomorrow or the next day by a pack of infected and she knew that she really did have a dark side. Today proved that.
Her hostile response to Sylvia may not have been premeditated but it was by design, instinctual design. Just when Adam was falling under Sylvia’s sweet spell, Gen stole his attention in the roughest and surest way possible, wooing him with the darkest thought she could muster.
Adam was not the bad one. It was her. Could there be anyone in the dome who would react so brutishly and selfishly to their best friend just for what, smiling affectionately at her own intended?
She knew Sylvia loved Adam in her own way and she knew Adam had never been overly attentive to Sylvia. She had comforted Sylvia many times when Adam had ignored his intended for weeks on end.
Sylvia had been waiting for a night like tonight when his eyes would meet hers and an intimacy would be born between them, an affection that could be nurtured and grown.
Gen snatched that moment away from her best friend and she did it without tenderness. Adam was hers. What that meant or how that would ever benefit anyone was unclear. What she was clear about was that her soul was petty and hostile and selfish and her ugly heart was a perfect match for his ugly heart.
His smile slid off his face and he looked at her. She received his eyes fully for the first time. Her friends’ laughter faded. The heavy electric beating of her heart overwhelmed her senses. His eyes were green and they turned oxygen to ice in her throat. If he touched her now, she would shatter into a thousand pieces.
“Adam Thirdborn!”
She could not place that voice in her dream. Adam heard it too, his eyes left her.
“Tyler Secondborn!”
Her senses returned in full force. She turned back to find the grave faces of Milo and Isaac.
“You are to report to the briefing chamber immediately.” Milo made a hand gesture toward the exit. Tuna turned to Adam.
“Let’s go,” Adam directed popping up and walking past Milo. The other six watched Tuna stand reluctantly, eye his plate before following Adam to the commissary exit.
Milo and Isaac nodded formally down to the remaining six before they hurried to escort Adam and Tuna.
-10-
Tuna followed Adam into the empty briefing chamber. They approached the two chairs in the middle of the barren room. Tuna glanced back to see Milo step out. The door slid closed and its lock clicked. Tuna turned to Adam. “Dude, this is not good.”
Another click and the room went dark. Tuna’s heavy breathing was the only sound in the pitch-black silence until a small light appeared in the middle of the viewing wall. They sat down.
Then they could hear the wind and more, a flag flapping wildly. They could see a slowly emerging, high-angle view of a deserted city street which eventually covered the entire wall. Neither boy had ever seen anything like this before. The world as it was now.
Adam suddenly gasped. The view zoomed in too quickly down to the street. He realized that it was not just the world now, but right now.
This was a live feed.
Tuna swallowed hard. He saw details on the pavement, splashes of darkened cement and scattered sticks. Not sticks, bones. Too close. The camera pulled back. He guessed that Doctor Quarna was controlling the camera from the island.
“It’s live,” Adam finally said. Tuna flashed his terrified eyes and nodded in agreement.
The angle slowly changed. In the distance, there was movement. Humanlike figures moved slowly closer. A quick zoom and the figures became more discernible. Long, unruly hair. Clothes stained and ragged to the point they seemed like brown, shredded flesh hanging from their gaunt bodies. A tall one trailed behind. His face was caked with so many scabs he looked made of cracked leather.
The others were much shorter. “Children,” Tuna whispered as the truth hit him. “Chained.” It was true. The infected adult trailed behind four small children and he held tightly a series of chains. Each chain led to and wrapped around the neck of a child.
The two healthy boys who had lived their whole lives in the most sterile, sun-filled place on earth labored to breathe as they witnessed the horrific images of the world outside. A city center filled with overturned vehicles, scattered bones, disease, filth, emptiness.
The distant camera recorded sounds too, sounds that haunted the briefing chamber, lonely canyon winds that had long since replaced the burgeoning sounds of urban hustle and bustle. No car horn would ever sound again in that naked city. No high-pitched screech would ever escape another police whistle there.
Even the massive structures beyond were filled with the most hollow, dead-eyed windows one’s soul could ever imagine. Mankind had managed to build a tomb the size of an entire city.
In the near dark, only their faces reflected the light of the screen. Adam had lost all of his fire. His mouth hung open in horror. Next to him, Tuna sat broken. A tear fell from his right eye, racing quickly down his cheek to fall beyond the reach of light.
Up on the wall, the infected moved closer still. Suddenly, the tall one pulled on his chains. Adam and Tuna jumped back in their seats as the heads of the children jerked back in unison choking from the pull of their chains.
The small faces filled the screen with absolute hideousness. Eyes black and unfeeling, mouths open and trembling like beasts of prey. Their skin was lost to open gashes and layers of scar tissue.
The tall one reached forward and unhooked two of the children from their chains. The children lunged forward with alarming speed and alertness, then stopped and sniffed the air.
“What’s happening?” Tuna asked in pained horror.
The camera panned right to follow the children’s alert eyes. A sick, mangy dog limped helplessly down the street. The two children walked quietly, spreading out like hunters.
Adam’s eyes panicked beginning to understand. “Turn it off,” he said barely. He looked to Tuna who still did not understand. “Turn it off,” Adam yelled. “Turn that off. Now!” He leaped up from his chair and screamed it. “You have to turn it off!”
Tuna began trembling. He looked back to the screen realizing what was about to happen. The children sprung like animals down the street after the dog.
The lights clicked on and the images disappeared.
They sat stunned, somehow still able to see the infected children running and then pouncing on the sickly dog even without the live feed projected on the viewing wall. They closed their eyes tight trying to make the gruesome details disappear.
Tuna shivered, shook it off. He turned to Adam. They locked eyes, unable to speak and then turned back to the blank wall. Nothing. They examined the empty room. Nothing. Tuna breathed heavily while Adam seemed not to breathe at all. They waited for something, the voice of Doctor Quarna perhaps, but the sterile room remained silent.
A click and the door slid open. They considered the door, looked to each other again, unsure. Tuna stood to join Adam on his feet. A moment passed and then they did the only thing they could think to do. They walked to the door and left the room and all its horrid images behind.
* * *
THE KIDS OF THE EDEN PROJECT left the commissary and filled the corridor. Adam and Tuna exited the viewing chamber in a daze and were quickly overtaken by faster moving kids. They did not see the world around them. They did not speak to anyone or each other.
Ozzie made his way past smaller kids to catch up with Adam and Tuna. He slowed down and stepped between them, squeezing the back of their necks. They were both non-responsive to his rough friendliness.
“Okay, should I ask? You must have pissed off Quarna somehow.” Ozzie gr
inned, hoping they would at least acknowledge him.
Tuna peaked sideways to Ozzie, but quickly returned his eyes to the path of his own feet.
Ozzie noticed something in Tuna’s eyes. “You guys helped Hoss, didn’t you?”
Tuna stopped and turned angrily to Ozzie. “I did no such thing.” Ozzie and Adam stopped to look at Tuna. “I had nothing to do with it. He’ll get himself killed out there or worse.”
“All right, man, don’t bite my head off.” Ozzie flashed a little anger of his own. “You guys are so touchy, lately. I just came to see if you guys were up for a little competition. Zeke’s headed to flight simulation. He says he’s going to break Adam’s record.”
Tuna hung his head. “Sorry, Ozzie, I’m just tired. Long day.”
“Not tonight, Oz,” Adam said. “I’m a little tired too. Tell Zeke he needs all the practice he can get.”
With that, Adam and Tuna walked on down the corridor, leaving Ozzie to shake his head. When Ozzie spun back to go, he nearly collided with Gen.
“Did they say anything?”
“They said they were tired.” Ozzie answered, matter-of-factly, then stepped past Gen and hurried back the way he came.
“Tired?” Gen said to herself. “Both of them tired? At six thirty?” She watched Adam glide away from her through a sea of kids.
-11-
Something had changed. Adam and Tuna were rarely together after that day. Gen spied on them whenever she had a chance. Not only were they never up to anything, they had become the model students in the dome. Adam continued to break his flight simulator records and Tuna learned to dismantle and rebuild each component on the ships.
Adam had changed most profoundly. Not one drop of sarcasm ever escaped his lips. Weeks and months passed without Adam paying any unwanted attention to her. He was polite, courteous and respectful. What an exemplary bore he had become!
She had begun to think Adam’s prophecy had come true. The kids were losing their individual souls to the greater good. There was no greater evidence than the boy himself. He had become a virtual clone of Zeke, a replicant like in the age-old science fiction movies. Alert, expert, graceful and in every way a positive force to everyone he encountered.
The Eden Project (Books One & Two) Page 5