by Edge, T. C.
These times with Ellie and Link are the few moments of respite I have. We bond as a trio, telling stories of home and letting each other in on our fears. I hear of Ellie's love for the woods and the rolling hills, how she misses the sound of rainfall dripping down through the trees. Link tells us of the harshness of his world in Fossor, of the mines that go deep into the earth. He tells us about his little sister, Abby, who's only a few years away from the Duty Call herself, and how he longs more than anything to see her assigned somewhere clean and safe where she can be happy.
Once a week, Leeta continues to check in on Ellie and myself. I don't know if it's part of her duty or whether she just wants to see us, but she makes it a weekly thing. Mostly, she continues our education of Eden and the other sea cities and regions across Arcadia. She takes us to places around the city that we might never see, always speaking with great passion and enthusiasm. Her aim, I suspect, is to try to make us learn to like it here. Perhaps indoctrinate us as she was. As time goes by, I can tell it's starting to work on Ellie.
One evening we reach a part of the deck we haven't seen before. At the opposite end from where we live is a closed off portion, high walls and gates protecting it from possible intrusion. Soldiers patrol its borders, protecting what lies within. I can see, set back beyond the gate, a grand building, ornate and elegant, embroidered with statues and beautiful carvings. One stands taller than the others, fixed to an arch above the main doorway. The statue of a man, perhaps in his early 40's, dressed in a long cloak that hangs to his feet.
When I ask Leeta what this place is, she tells me it's the home of the High Chancellor, Augustus Knight. The statue that catches my eye, she says, is him.
“So this is the ruler of Eden's house?” asks Ellie, staring wide eyed towards the great structure. “Is it right that he's over a hundred years old? He doesn't look too old in the statue.”
“He's nearly one hundred and thirty actually,” says Leeta.
I nearly choke. “How old?!”
“Nearly one hundred and thirty,” repeats Leeta calmly. “There are gene therapies here that slow and even prevent ageing. That's why he still looks quite young.”
“So...there are people around here that old. How old are you?” asks Ellie.
Leeta seems dismayed by the question, and shuffles on her feet. “That's not a polite question to ask, Ellie. But if you're wondering, no I haven't had any gene therapy and I never will. Only the richest and most powerful have them. Most of the Council members are much older than they may look.”
“Right, that makes perfect sense,” I say with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “So the powerful stay young and nothing ever changes. The whole mainland's going to be under their boot forever.”
“Well, a lot of Knight's policies have been very successful actually, Cyra. The Dividing Wall, his wall, is highly effective. The Duty Call and Pairing work very well. He's brought this nation back from the brink of destruction. I think he deserves some praise and credit.”
I shake my head and turn away from her disapproving eyes. Frankly none of those policies sound good to me. Just means of control, but Leeta will never see it that way. Even if she did, she'd never admit to it. So, I change the subject, guiding my eyes back to the grand mansion beyond the high gates.
“So, the big boss lives here then...”
“Yes, this is where he lives,” says Leeta, happy to get back to her lesson. “Rumour has it there's a lift somewhere in the house that descends right to the bottom floor.”
“Why?” asks Ellie.
“Because that's where the Council gathers. That's where the decisions about Arcadia are made.”
“Have you ever been down there?”
Leeta looks at us as if we're mad. “Me, oh gosh no. No one is allowed down there but the most important people. That's certainly not me.”
“So there's an entire level just for a few people to meet and talk about things. That's a bit of a waste of space, isn't it?” I say.
“Truth is, Cyra, no one really knows what goes on down there. And, no one really questions it.”
I think about all those people crammed into Surface Level 8. All those thousands of people squashed into small living quarters when elsewhere there's so much space. Even down on Underwater Level 5, beyond the Grid, I have little idea of what the space is used for. Empty rooms, probably, stretching into the distance in every direction.
Leeta tries to explain, but even she isn't completely sure about what each level is used for.
“There's the science level, used for research and development,” she says. “That's Underwater Level 3. Then there's the military level where soldiers train and live. That's Underwater Level 2.”
“How about Underwater 4?” asks Ellie.
“I'm not exactly sure,” says Leeta. “I think that may be for science as well. Experiments and things like that. I have heard they keep a huge range of animal and plant species down there for their tests.”
“Jeez,” says Ellie, “I'll want to avoid there then. They've probably got lots of snakes I'll bet.”
“I'd say that's a fair guess, Ellie. Now, Underwater Level 1 is engineering. Um, then there's the Surface Levels.”
“Yeah, well we know what's on 8 don't we,” I say bitterly. “What about the other 7?”
“Um, well there's a worker level on 7. That's things like laundry and food preparation and things like that. Below that, on Level 6, there's food storage.”
“An entire level for storing food?” asks Ellie. “Now I would like to go there!”
Talk of food always seems to perk Ellie up, regardless of her mood. I swear it's amazing how she stays so small and slim the amount she eats.
“I know that Surface Level 1 is used for running Eden. Power and computers and all that sort of stuff, although I confess I don't understand any of it.”
“OK,” I say. “So what about Levels 2 to 5?”
“Well, 2 is more storage. Pretty much anything is stored down there I think. And then there's just 3, 4, and 5 which, well, I'm not so sure about to be honest. I think they might be fairly empty.”
“Empty?! I exclaim. “Are you kidding me. And you've got all those people squashed into Level 8!”
“Well, Cyra, it's not my doing. I suppose those levels are used for something. I just don't know what they are, all right? You must learn to stop asking so many questions, you really must. Just focus on your duty.”
I shake my head at how vacuous she can be. It's like she doesn't question anything beyond what she's told. Even Ellie doesn't seem to mind all of this. I feel sometimes like I'm the only one with a conscience around here. I'm sure if I talked to Link, he'd feel the same as me.
When I return to my room that evening I ask Eve about the various levels, but she offers me no answers whatsoever.
“You are only authorised to enter Underwater Level 5,” she says in that soothing, ethereal voice.
“So how did I manage to get to Surface Level 8 then?” I question.
“There are no security protocols on Surface Level 8,” she says. “You are not officially authorised to go there, but there are no measures to stop you.”
“And the other levels?” I ask
“All other levels have security protocols.”
So that makes perfect sense. Why would anyone want to go to Level 8 anyway?
“Eve, what can you tell me about Chancellor Knight?” I ask.
“I am not authorised to tell you anything.”
“Well, is it true he's really old?”
“I am not authorised to tell you.”
“Jeez, why not?! I'm not breaking the law or anything. I just want to know more about the big boss. It's not like it's secret knowledge is it. What exactly can you tell me?”
“I am only authorised to follow commands regarding control of your room.”
“Wow, that's all. So, you're a bit useless then aren't you?” I say. To any real person, that would be antagonising. For Eve, it's a genuine comment, to whi
ch she responds with all of the ways in which she is useful to me. Halfway through I get bored and tell her to shut down.
I drop off to sleep quickly that night, as I always do. I guess it's the intensity of everything; the training, adapting to a new world. It just drains you to the point where you just pass out as soon as your head hits your pillow.
I dream of Jackson, as I often do, but when I wake I can't tell if it was a dream or an aftershock from my training. It's as though I've grown completely desensitised to seeing him die by now. I've experienced that so many times that I hardly seem to care any more.
Ajax tells me that's the entire point, that I've crossed a line. When your fears are no longer scary to you, that's when you know you've mastered them.
That frightens me more than anything. I wonder how I'll feel if ever I find out that Jackson is really dead. Will I care? Or have I grown unemotional and cold? If I held him in my arms now, breathing his last breath, would I shed a tear? Would I just watch as his heart gives out and his eyes fade in front of me?
Even thinking about it now, I don't have that same pang of emotion. I don't feel that stab in my heart at the idea. Already, I can tell, I'm starting to lose myself, watching as the girl from Arbor dims even more, her light flickering and threatening to go out.
Soon, perhaps, we'll all become nothing but empty shells. Nothing inside us but our desire to fulfil our duties. Clones, sent out into the world to see death and suffering in our dreams. Nothing but blunt tools, devoid of any life or emotion.
Before I lose myself completely, I take out the diary that my mother had given me and begin writing my thoughts down in my room. I write down everything I used to love back home. I describe in as much detail as possible my feelings for my mother and father, my siblings and Jackson. I write about Arbor, about life in Agricola, about everything I love, and everything I hate.
I write about the disparity of the world and how much I loathe it. About the Testing and the Duty Call, about how that horrible mantra – if it's meant to be, it will be – is loaded with so much contradiction it makes my blood boil beneath my skin.
I write about everything that has meaning to me and everything I feel passionate about. All in the hope that, one day, when there's nothing left of me, I'll be able to read my words and maybe, just maybe, remember who I was.
15 - A Fear Realised
Over the next week it becomes clear that several of us have crossed a line.
There's a cold, iciness to the faces around me now that reminds me of Ajax. People no longer shake as they enter the Grid. They don't rush to get their go out of the way. They still return showing signs of what happened in there: ripped clothing and minor cuts and bruises, dirt and blood and soot. Yet their faces are no longer twisted with anguish, no longer pale and beading with sweat.
The only one still struggling is Anders, who hasn't been quite the same since Amir left. He was making good progress, yet seeing his friend, his mind broken in front of him, has left a scar that is failing to heal.
One evening I follow him and find him sitting down a cold passageway on Underwater 5, his head buried into his hands, knees tightly clasped to his chest. When he sees me he stands, quickly, and brushes things off, but I know he's not how he was.
He tells me he's been visiting Amir each evening in the hospital on Underwater Level 3 where the Scientists work. Apparently, that level is also home to all of the city's medical supplies and Healers. I ask him how he got access, knowing that we're not authorised to enter the other levels, and he says he got special dispensation to visit his close friend. Apparently, it was Ajax who arranged it.
He asks me if I want to go along as well, so I do. I liked Amir, but it's my curiosity to see more of Eden that truly spikes my interest.
When we reach Underwater 3, I find myself blinking at the bright lights. Beyond the tram tracks are wide open spaces, many with see-through glass walls and doors, stretching away into the distance. Inside I see scientists, all dressed in white, busying themselves with experiments I could never hope to fathom.
Each entry point has the sort of security scanner I've grown used to seeing around the city. The sort of scanner used to determine whether we're authorised to be at any particular place. Naturally, our barcodes don't allow us entry, but Anders has a special keycard that he's able to use to provide him with limited access.
As with the other levels I've seen, there are endless passageways and corridors leading inwards across the level, peppered with security points to gain access to the different areas. I see various signs as we go, directing people to the appropriate areas. Agronomy, Botany, Cytology, Epidemiology, Genetics, Marine Biology, Medical, Meteorology, Physics, Seismology.
Some of the signs I don't even understand. One sends a shock through me: Epidemiology, the study of disease. I tried, in vain, to learn as much as I could on the subject when my mother got ill. Of course, none of it helped.
We continue in the direction of the Medical section, where Anders tells me there's a hospital that deals with all illnesses, diseases, and accidents on Eden. When we reach it, Anders enters his keycard, the doors slide open, and I'm immediately surprised by how empty it seems. There are few Healers and Medics and Nurses, and hardly any patients. According to Anders, few people grow ill on Eden, and there are very few accidents.
When we reach the ward marked Mental Health, we find the room where Amir is being cared for. He sits, upright in a chair, his body tense and fastened to the frame with various belts and buckles. His eyes stare blankly ahead, his lips moving, whispering indiscernible words.
“Any change?” Anders asks the nurse in the room as she checks a series of computer readouts.
She shakes her head. “Sorry, Anders. Nothing yet. We still have hope, though.” Her words are hollow and unconvincing.
She leaves us alone with Amir for the next half hour as Anders sits near him. “They say a familiar voice might help him find his way back,” he tells me. Then he starts whispering to Amir, the same words over and over again, the same words Ajax used when we first found him in the Grid,
“Amir, come back to us,” he says, repeating it several times. “It's Anders, can you hear me. Come back to us, Amir.”
Amir does nothing but stare vacantly forward, hardly blinking, hardly moving but for the fluttering of his lips and the illegible words that flow from them. I sit to his other side and repeat the same words with Anders, but it has little impact.
After half an hour, the nurse returns and says we need to leave. Before we go, Anders tells Amir that he'll be back tomorrow, that he'll be back everyday until his friend is OK. He speaks with such pain, his own soul tortured at seeing Amir lose himself in the Grid. I fear, looking into his eyes, that he may be losing himself too.
In the following days, Anders spends a lot of time with Ajax. He now appears so contrasted with the rest of us. Link was always strong, but now he's been joined by those I deemed weak only a few weeks ago. Larna, in particular, and Ellie also, have grown hardened and determined. Theo, despite his smugness and egotism, has now grown used to the training.
Anders, though, is slowly falling apart, so much so that Ajax calls a halt to his training to give him time to recover. The next day, he doesn't appear. When one day becomes a week, we all know that he won't be joining us any more.
Ajax announces to the group that he's going to be assigned elsewhere, that the burden has grown too heavy for him to bear. He could have kept pushing him, like he did with Amir, but he doesn't. Not this time. Perhaps, in the end, Anders is the lucky one, although none of us know where his reassignment will take him.
There's a look of distress on Ajax's face when he tells us. I don't think it's any sort of caring for Anders, any latent remorse over what happened with Amir. It's simply the fact that now there's one less recruit. One less Watcher. And there are far too few of us already.
Each night I return to my diary. I keep it by my bed, not in a drawer or cupboard that's going to retract into the wall
or floor, but in the old bag I brought with me from home. Inside it joins my mother's watch, which finds its way into my hands most nights, and the pictures of my family.
Before I sleep, I lift the diary from the bag and read over the pages I've written in the hope it will keep me human. Then I write a little more, anything I can think of, to nourish that side of me. Every night, I fall asleep with the diary dropped to the floor or lying on top of my lap, thoughts of my mother and Jackson still dominating my dreams.
My sleep is now peppered with other visions as well. I suppose the training must be having an impact, because they grow in clarity as the days go by. For several days in a row I see a great storm brewing in the ocean, overturning a boat laden with people. It comes to me night after night, the visions growing clearer each time.
I tell Ajax and he says what he always says. That I need to look for details, anything specific that will reveal the particular ship or the day it occurs. That night, as people plunge to the depths of the sea and the ship rolls over under the force of the waves, I see a name written onto its side: Adonia.
It's only a couple of days later that the storm that would have sunk the passenger ship Adonia down to the bottom of the ocean begins to rage. But, of course, the same ship had been alerted and, as a result, took a different path to its destination. With the help of the Meteorologists down on Underwater Level 3, my vision meant that the ship was safely diverted away from the oncoming storm. It's hard to know how many lives would have been lost but, in the end, every single soul survives.
Ajax congratulates me when the news comes in, yet I get no other recognition. It's the way of the Watchers, he tells me, to help others with no thought to their own end. There are no grand parades to honour those who save lives. No medals given out. It's the same in the military. Those who achieve great things aren't provided with any special treatment. It is, in the end, all part of our duty.
Some of the other trainees have some success as well. Larna manages to save a man from falling to his death whilst performing some structural work on the city walls. Link sees a gas explosion, all the way over on the sea city of Caprico, which would otherwise have killed several people. It turns out that another Watcher had seen the explosion as well, but nevertheless the additional details Link provided were important.