by Hannah Ross
Sidney loved observing the animals that survived beyond the Boundary. During his travels, he saw an eagle soaring in the sky, a herd of mustangs galloping across the prairie, and bison making the earth shudder. He was mesmerized by the distant howl of the coyote, the rumbling growl of a mountain lion, and the silvery rippling of salmon downstream. The War might have ravaged human culture, but it was a godsend for animals. The natural order was restored in most of the country, and in Sidney's opinion, one he kept secret, it was right and fair after centuries of human-inflicted imbalance.
He climbed the gentle incline and saw the goats at some distance. They were grazing around a large tree with wide, leafy branches. A male, some females, several kids. Domesticated animals gone feral. A smile curled his lips. I wouldn't mind sharing their fate.
Then he heard something else, a clear, harmonious sound that made him freeze. A flute! A simple tune on a flute. Must be being carried by the wind. Someone quite close to the goats is sitting there and making a bit of music in the sunny golden afternoon. There's a shepherd. It looks like this mission is progressing well.
With a hammering heart, Sidney moved forward. His steps were light enough that the kids continued frolicking, but in the perfect stillness of the meadow the adults heard him, raised their heads, and stared warily. The buck bleated a warning and bent his horned head as the shepherdess stepped from behind the tree.
"Hello," called Sidney, raising his hand in a friendly gesture. It feels strange to encounter a fellow human beyond the Boundary, but she must be one of them.
She said nothing. She just stood there, observing him with apparent curiosity, and waited. He took a few more steps, shortening the distance between them until he could get a proper look, making mental notes. The girl…no, too old. The young woman's wearing brown corduroy pants with a patch over one knee, a wrinkled red tunic that's at least two sizes too large, and a wide-brimmed straw hat to keep the sun off her face. She has blonde hair loosely woven into a braid that falls across one of her shoulders. And she's curious. Not afraid.
She tossed the braid back as he drew close enough to talk but far enough away not to spook her. "Hello," she said, facing him but turned slightly sideways, ready to run if necessary. "Who are you?"
Her eyes are green, like a spring meadow, and just as peaceful. He sighed as, for a moment, Chuck Winthrop, the White Tower, and anything going on within the Boundary felt worlds away.
"Sidney," he said. "My name is Sidney Coleridge."
When she took off her hat, he saw the upper part of her forehead was whiter than the rest of her face. A very pretty face.
The outline of her body was mostly hidden by the loose garments, but her tanned forearms had a slender, graceful shape. She seems healthy. Not suffering from any malaise. Why is she out here?
"I'm Elisa Wood." She tilted her head sideways. "You aren't one of us, are you? You're not an orphan."
"I nearly am. My parents divorced when I was only one year old, and my mother, unfortunately, took to the bottle. My father never kept in touch, and my mother had me removed from her custody a year later. I lived in foster homes until I came of age."
Why am I telling her all this? I have no idea. I don't go around discussing my youth with complete strangers.
"I'm sorry. What I mean to say is that you aren't…well…you're from within the Boundary, aren't you?"
"Yes. Are these your goats?" He noticed the animals returned to their peaceful grazing.
"They belong to our camp," she said with a smile. "I'm so glad you didn't try to shoot them or anything."
I can tell she doesn't smile easily. But her expression has a certain natural grace. "I only hunt when I'm hungry, and I never take animals that are raising their young."
Her smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that. You know, I wish everybody understood these things. Some people don't, even out here. We were cast off as dispensable, but in nature, nothing is dispensable. The people from before the War never realized that. Have you read the old books? It's hard to believe how much was destroyed in the name of profit." She stopped and smiled again, sounding the slightest bit apologetic as she asked, "Am I rambling? It often happens, I know. So…" She paused, expecting a reply that failed to come. "So why are you here?"
Sidney could have said a lot of things, but caution was imperative when meeting unknown people. I could say I'm a researcher. That I salvage scraps of culture from before the War. It wouldn't entirely be a lie. But I feel like I have to be honest with her. "I was sent by the government."
Confusion and wariness filled her face. "Why?"
"To look for you."
After a brief explanation, Elisa told him where the camp was. All he had to do was drive along the river, but he preferred to leave his Explorer, take his backpack and go with her by foot. They were escorted by the goats.
"It took a while to get them to be so tame," she told him as she picked a flower here, a bunch of herbs there, and stashed them in her pouch. "What I truly want, though, is to get a puppy I can bring up. I'd train him to guard livestock and ward off coyotes."
Most of the time, they walked in silence. After the bumpy drive across the roadless terrain, it was a pleasure for Sidney to stretch his limbs and inhale the smell of earth, grass, and flowers instead of gas fumes. He noted the landmarks around him – the bend of a river, a rounded hill, a fallen tree – and once in a while stole a glance at the pretty shepherdess.
She's clearly a good walker, but something in her step isn't quite right. "Were you injured?"
"No," she replied, puzzled. "Why would you think so?"
"The way you walk."
"Oh." Her easy laugh made him grin. "No, that's something I was born with. One of my legs is slightly shorter than the other. You can notice it when I walk, but most of the time it doesn't bother me at all."
Sidney looked at her, at her beautiful profile, the messed-up golden braid, the leaf-green eyes under a fringe of golden lashes and his heart ached. One leg is slightly shorter than the other. And that's enough to make a child fit for nothing but an orphanage and exile? What kind of world did we make after the War?
Minutes later, he got his first look at the homestead. A small, old, stone house with a larger and newer log extension surrounded by a well-cared for orchard. Animal pens. An outhouse? Children did all this? Impressive.
Despite the warmth of the day, smoke was rising up from the chimney.
"We're home," Elisa said with a happy smile. "And I see someone is cooking. I'm getting hungry. What about you?"
"Oh, yeah. Me too."
In reality he was not sure how he felt. He was distracted, overwhelmed. Most of all he experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. He never before saw an occupied farmhouse, but he read about them in old books and saw them in old movies from before the War. This is very different from both the crowded rush of the Urban Islands and the complete solitude of the abandoned country. This is a home!
The house door opened and a little girl of about two or three years ran toward them, straight into Elisa's arms. She picked her up, playfully tickled her, and the girl giggled and squirmed until finally, flushed and breathless, the golden-haired shepherdess placed her back on the ground. "Did you hear the goats, Marleen?"
The girl nodded with a grin that filled her little face. "That's how I knew you were here." The grin faded when she turned to Sidney. "Who are you?"
"Marleen! Would your mother think that was a polite way to greet someone?"
"No. I'm sorry."
"Then maybe you should try again."
The girl looked like she wanted to pout, but did not. She looked up at Sidney and said, "Hello. My name is Marleen. What's your name?"
Sidney stared at her for a second. Of course. There are no laws to restrict birth here, no reproductive permits, no forced sterilizations. The wild children are having children of their own.
"My name is Sidney. And I'm pleased to meet you, Marleen."
"Much better," Elisa said. She
turned to her guest. "If you'll hang on for a bit, I'll just get the goats in their pen before they eat up the whole garden."
A few minutes later, she took the toddler's hand, nodded to Sidney, and the three of them went in.
Sidney's first impression was of a happy mess. There were several people inside, immersed in various pursuits, and the voices of more children could be heard from the back yard. A pot was bubbling on the stove, spreading a hearty, satisfying aroma of meat stew. Compared to the bright sunlight outside, the interior of the log hall was dim, and at first, Sidney went unnoticed.
"Hi, Elisa. I wondered when you'd be back," said the plump young woman who was stirring the pot. Then she noticed the stranger, and so did everyone else. Sidney felt awkward with so many pairs of eyes fixed on him.
"I see you've brought a guest," said a young man. "Is there another camp hereabouts we didn't know of?"
Sidney cleared his throat. "Well, as a matter of fact…"
"He's from within the Boundary," Elisa said.
A short, dark-haired girl of about seventeen or eighteen approached him, her head tilted sideways and her eyes slightly narrowed. "A Boundary man, huh? I haven't met one of them since I was sent out, and that was over six years ago now. I'm Lynn Raven."
She thrust out a small hand and Sidney shook it, noting the calluses on her palms.
When Sidney finished explaining his mission, there was a strained silence in the room, broken only by the bubbling of stew in the pot and the happy gurgling of a baby in his mother's arms as everyone looked at each other, and at Sidney. The children old enough to walk quickly got bored and went out to play.
Benjamin introduced himself. "So let me get this straight. The government cast us out, and now they're looking into the possibility of bringing us back? Why now?"
"I don't have all the answers," Sidney said. "I'm just a sideline representative working with one of the White Tower's smaller bureaus. For years I've been not much more to them than a scavenger rat sniffing around the ruins. Now, though… There are many things I don't understand myself, but this I can tell you. Things inside the Boundary are changing. It isn't all smooth and quiet like it used to be. People are on the streets rioting because of a few secrets that have leaked out, and the government wants to put on a nicer, more liberal face."
"So they would offer us Class B citizenship as a gesture of reconciliation?" said Raven, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's not that simple, but the government is taking…an interest in you."
"Well, that's something new," she snapped. "None of them…the government, the orphanage, our parents…none of them ever took an interest in us before."
"I don't know, Raven," Ben said, his voice low, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Some didn't want us because we were damaged. Or inconvenient. But some were probably forced to give up their children. I wonder, though. I wonder whether they really want us back."
18
________________
____________
________
Allie's copper curls were arranged in a simple but very becoming way, with little pearl pins and a wreath of small white flowers beneath the airy, transparent veil. The beautifully cut, mermaid-style wedding dress was embroidered with tiny pearls as well, and the form-fitting white gloves completed the elegant ensemble. She looked radiant as she stood there, hand in hand with Jordan, as they proclaimed their vows of love and devotion.
Jordan took the glove off Allie's left hand and slipped a thin golden band on her ring finger. Rebecca reached into her handbag for a wrinkled tissue and pressed it to her eyes. Next to her, Allie's mother was sobbing into a lace handkerchief.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Mrs. Hurst?"
It was the director of the banquet hall. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm very sorry to intrude," he whispered, "but there's a phone call on hold for you."
Rebecca looked at him as if he were insane. "A phone call? Now?"
"The man claims it's urgent. A matter of life and death, he says."
Rebecca frowned. "But who is it? Did he say his name?"
"Uh…" the director scrunched up his face in an effort to remember. "Professor something."
Rebecca paled. What is going on? "Hold the call for me, will you? I'll be down in two minutes."
"No problem. You can get it in my office."
Rebecca stayed to hear the end of the wedding vows, but most of the words were lost to her. She only took in snatches of phrases. "The beginning of a new life… devotion… commitment in good times and in bad…" And when it was time for the wedding speech, she quietly and, she hoped, inconspicuously slipped away.
"Hello?" She gripped the receiver with a sweaty hand.
"Rebecca?" She heard Professor Keller's impatient voice.
"This had better be good," she said with mounting annoyance. "I'm at my son's wedding."
"I know. It wasn't easy to find you, and I wouldn't have bothered you if I thought this could wait. But it cannot. I need your help."
Her heart missed a beat. "What is going on?"
"Something that cannot be discussed over the phone. Can you come?"
"I…" Rebecca felt torn. She wondered whether Jordan noticed her absence yet. She wanted to put everything aside for the moment, every personal wish, hope, and fear, and think of nothing but her son's happiness. She wanted to tell herself this was nothing more than a curious whim of an old man. But she could not. She felt the rush of adrenaline to her brain. "I'll be there shortly."
As she was hurrying out of the director's office, she came face to face with her husband. Daniel caught her arm. "Rebecca, what are you doing here? It's nearly time for Jordan and Allie's dance. They're waiting for you."
"I'm sorry, Daniel, I must go. Please tell Jordan and Allie that…"
"That what?" His grip on her arm tightened. "Listen, I have no idea what you're up to, and you know what, I'm not even going to ask. But you and I are supposed to dance as well, and we are going to do it. Right now. Come on, Becky."
It felt like a dream, seeing her eldest son lead his bride around the dance floor to the smiles, cheers, and applause of all the onlookers. She smiled and cheered and clapped too, but only half of her was there. The other half was anxiously probing all the possibilities behind Professor Keller's call. She kept thinking of it as she took a turn dancing with Daniel, then with Allie's father, then with her own son.
"What's the matter, Mom?" Jordan asked as they danced. "You seem distracted."
She looked up into her son's face. Up close she noticed a tiny cut on the right side of his chin, where he had shaved a little over-zealously for the wedding. It was hard to believe this dashing young man was once an infant she nursed at her breasts and comforted in her arms. She sighed and touched his cheek. "It's nothing. It's just that I can't believe you're married. It's like only yesterday we argued about bedtime and how many friends you can have over at once."
Jordan offered a wry smile. "Now I argue about those things with Allie." Rebecca could not help but laugh.
Shortly after, as the banquet was beginning, she managed to slip away. Her pointed heels drummed across the pavement as she rushed forward in search of a taxi. I'm coming, Professor Keller. I'm on my way.
As the taxi drove through the city, Rebecca noticed the streets were much quieter. The government did much and more to pour the oil of reconciliation over the turbulent waters of public rebellion. There were meetings between representatives of the White Tower and the leaders of the Vox Populi, and newspaper headlines were fashioned accordingly. There was a lot of talk about the dawning of a new era and progress and reforms and liberal notions, but Rebecca was not fooled. What the government said and what the government did were often two very different things.
There was still a small crowd around the building where Professor Keller's office and laboratory were located, but it was a lot thinner and less enthusiastic than at the time of her last visit. It seemed to consist of bored peo
ple who had nothing better to do, and Rebecca easily made her way through. The guards received instructions from Professor Keller to let her in, and after a superficial glance at her identity card, she was shown up.
"You look very elegant in that gown," Keller said. "This is much better than the ridiculous fashions women wear these days. I'd abolish pantsuits for women if I had the power to do so."
"You could try." Rebecca smoothed down her knee-length cream-colored skirt. "Proposals with a lot less sense were passed in the White Tower without much opposition."
A smile flickered on Professor Keller's face, but soon died. "I apologize for the inconvenience I caused you, but I felt there was no choice, and right now you are the only person I can trust."
"What happened?"
The old man drew himself up to his full height. "I have reached a decision. NOAGE must be destroyed."
Rebecca blinked, not sure she heard correctly. "I'm sorry. I don't quite…"
"I'm going to destroy it all. My entire research, all my documents, everything on the hard drive of my computer. Fortunately, it is all here, in these rooms. The knowledge has not yet escaped. It is not too late to put an end to it all."
"But…but why?"
"Because unlimited life means unlimited power, and power corrupts. Everybody wants to live forever, but if everyone should do so, it would put an end to the fragile balance of our world. The people up at the White Tower would take NOAGE as a prize for themselves, as a reward for select patrons and workers, and create two separate races of humankind, the immortals, the chosen ones, and the dispensable thralls, who are born to serve, do menial work, and die. They're fools. Their greed overpowers their good sense. They do not see that either way, my discovery would lead to war, strife, and the destruction of everything we have managed to rebuild."
Rebecca was silent for a long moment. "If this should be discovered…"