On the Brink

by Alison Ingleby et al.

“Hello. I’m Regum.”

  She tries to curve her lips into an echo of his smile.

  “Apologies for the . . .” He gestures to the ropes which bind her. “Fortis here was . . . concerned when you tried to run.”

  From the doorway, Fortis makes a frustrated sound. He seems less inclined to enter the room.

  “You must be thirsty. Hungry.”

  She nods warily.

  “How about we bring you out here?” He waves a hand over his shoulder. “Give you something to eat and drink, and untie those hands for a little while?”

  She knows the question is aimed at Fortis and not her. They wait while he muses on the request, and eventually comes forward with reluctance.

  As he leans over her to remove the ropes, his green eyes bore into her own. “You’d better not make me regret this.”

  The room is cold, and Auro finds that she is shivering again. Genus doesn’t seem to notice. She finishes preparing the equipment, her actions accompanied by Malum’s rapidly tapping nails. It sets Auro’s teeth on edge. After what seems like hours, the noise stops and she gives Genus a brief nod. The medic flips a switch on the small machine to her left. It emits a faint series of beeping sounds and then settles into a low, continuous humming.

  From the machine in front of her, Genus selects one of several small pads, all of which are attached to a series of thin wires. The machine clicks as she disconnects the pad, removing it from the base and stretching it toward the bed which Auro is lying on. She slides her hand underneath the thin gown and secures the pad firmly against the skin on one side of Auro’s stomach. Her touch is cool, but not cold, and the procedure is painless.

  This process is repeated five times, until six wires snake out from under the gown and wind their way back into the droning machine. Auro begins to feel like a test subject in some kind of experiment. Genus makes some small adjustments to the positions of the pads and checks the machine’s read-out. Finally satisfied, she twists a dial on the front of the machine and sits back in her chair.

  Turning to Auro, she smiles. “Soon be over now. Then we’ll know for sure.”

  Within half an hour she is seated in front of a roaring fire, her belly filled with soup, and a crude hunk of bread which tasted surprisingly good. The two men sit across from her, mixed emotions on their faces. Regum does not look at all like the brutal male figures she has been warned about. Fortis, on the other hand, is tense, his muscles taut and stretched, ready to pounce if her responses do not satisfy him. She holds her tongue, for now at least.

  “Where are you from?” Even Fortis’s voice is tight, low, strained.

  She looks between the two men. Regum looks encouraging, friendly, as though he is genuinely interested in her answer. Fortis just glowers.

  “Go on,” Regum nods.

  She considers lying, and cannot decide what she could tell them that might convince them to let her leave. Eventually, she tries part of the truth.

  “Bellator.”

  “And your name?”

  She hesitates, and then gives a shrug. “Auro.”

  “Why are you here in the woods?”

  “I was just walking, exploring. I wanted to—”

  But she is cut off abruptly by an indignant cry from Fortis.

  “I told you she would lie.” He turns to her, his expression scathing. “No one just ‘walks’ this far from Bellator. You would have come by ’copter, or jeep, if you were simply curious. And you wouldn’t have come alone.”

  Regum shoots a look at him. “Give her a chance, man. She’s scared.”

  “You are alone, aren’t you?”

  She tries again, bluffing as best she can. “No. I mean I am, but there are others who know I’m here. They will look for me.”

  Fortis’s eyes flash and she knows she has said the wrong thing. He jerks to his feet. “You see! She puts us all in danger. Anyone who comes looking for her will find the base and that’ll be it.”

  Regum remains calm, disregarding Fortis’s fury, his eyes boring into her. She finds she has to look away.

  “Does anyone really know you’re here?”

  When she looks back at him he seems stern, as though disappointed by her lies. She feels her cheeks flooding with color, as though she has let him down.

  “Tell us the truth, or I’ll have to leave Fortis here to deal with you. And he will not be as patient and friendly as I have been so far. No more lies.”

  She considers losing Regum’s calming presence in the room and throws up her hands in surrender.

  “Alright! Look, I do come from Bellator. That’s the truth.”

  Regum’s voice remains calm, “We knew that part was true. The rest, well, I wasn’t convinced. Your face—you flinch when you’re lying.”

  She sighs and gives up, telling all. “I’m running away from Bellator, alright? I’ve been on the move for days now . . . I was hungry and tired, and I had nowhere to go. I saw this place and . . .” Her resolve falters when she sees the expression on Fortis’s face. “Look . . . I’m sorry I stole the food. It’s just . . . it’s been a while since I ate . . . I’d started feeling dizzy . . . was afraid I’d collapse if I didn’t eat and get some proper rest.” She hangs her head. “I didn’t plan on getting caught. I was supposed to be gone by this morning. I’m just so tired. I didn’t wake up when I planned to.”

  The two men seem to accept this, exchanging matching expressions for a change. She relaxes a little. Perhaps telling the truth is the best plan. Maybe she will get out of here after all. Fortis already looks calmer. But both men have a look of intense curiosity on their faces. And she knows the next question is the one she doesn’t want to answer.

  “So, Auro, why were you running away?”

  The process takes several minutes. Auro lies there, her dream from the night before returning full-force. She can hear the laughing voice of the medic, who in the nightmare is well over six feet tall and dressed in a blood-red gown. She can see herself on a bed at the medi-center, much like the one she lies on now, but in the vision, she is fastened to the table by restraints, unable to move, whatever the result.

  She bites down on her tongue, desperate not to appear disturbed by what she knows is just a routine procedure. And inside her head, she starts to pray.

  A sudden change in the machine’s pitch brings her back to reality. The nightmare fades. She waits until her breathing has slowed, before turning to the medic and her machine. The expression of concern on Genus’ kindly face tells Auro all she needs to know. Even the administrator, breaking away from her screen for the first time since they entered, looks vaguely sympathetic.

  “It’s only your first time. Not to worry Auro, dear.” Genus begins removing the pads, each one stinging Auro’s skin sharply. “Not your fault. I’ll transfer you over to Deletions now. You’ll be out of here by this evening.”

  She busies herself with her equipment again, the disappointing news still lingering in the sterile air of the room. Eventually, she turns back and assists Auro into a sitting position, as though she had been through a far more traumatic process.

  “Sorry it isn’t positive news.” She thrusts a slip of paper into Auro’s hand. “But remember, you can try again in a few weeks.”

  It is over. Ducking out of the door Genus indicates, Auro drifts down the windowless corridor. Only when she reaches the elevators at the end of the hall does she stop to look at the paper.

  NAME: AURO MADDEN

  PREGNANCY COUNT: FIRST

  FETUS: MALE

  ACTION: DELETION

  PROCEED TO DELETIONS DEPARTMENT: FLOOR 19

  She considers the different lies she could tell. She has no idea where these men have come from, or what they are doing here. She only knows that one of them is hostile, while the other seems merely curious. They talk of having been to Bellator, but the border controls are famously strict, and men are forbidden, so she doesn’t understand how they could enter and leave undetected. She remembers the boxes of equipment in the s
torage room. Their fear of being discovered. Clearly, they know something of her community. They are afraid of it.

  And of course, they can’t conceive of any reason why a woman would want to leave.

  Taking a deep breath, she simply tells the truth. “I was recently assigned to Procreation. That means . . .”

  “We know what it means,” Fortis seems to have little patience with her explanations.

  “Alright,” she manages to continue, trying to keep her voice steady. “Well I got pregnant fairly quickly, in fact, my first insemination was successful. That’s quite rare, I hear. Anyway, four days ago I went to the medi-center for the first of my maternity assessments.” She breaks off, staring at them to gauge how much they actually understand about the systems in Bellator. The blank looks on their faces tell her they don’t know much.

  “The first assessment is the Gentest.” Still nothing. She presses on. “They do their best to ensure that they only select female cells for insemination, but . . .” She blinks hard. “It’s never a foolproof process and sometimes they get it wrong. So, the Gentest determines the child’s gender, in case . . . in case the . . .” She cannot continue.

  “Go on,” Regum tries a smile, as though perhaps he is beginning to understand the pain she feels.

  She takes a deep breath. “In case the fetus is male. You must know that all Bellator babies, aside from those specifically bred for the fertility sector, are female. Those who are not, are . . .” She cringes. “Deleted.”

  She waits, not knowing how specific her explanation needs to be. The men continue to regard her steadfastly. She reaches into her pocket and takes out the crumpled slip of paper from the medi-center. Handing it to Regum, who smooths it out on the table in front of him, she continues.

  “When it was my turn, the test showed the fetus to be male.” She casts a hand across her stomach, which is swelling slightly beneath her clothes. “My baby is a boy. I’m supposed to reject him. I was supposed to go straight to the Deletions Department, right there and then, get it over and done with. I . . . I hear it’s not painful.”

  She can’t look at the two men anymore. The silence in the room is palpable. She doesn’t know how they will react to this, despite it being the truth. Eventually, Regum rises from his chair and places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “You ran away to protect your son?”

  The tears begin to fall. She is ashamed to let these men see her weakness, when she has vowed she will do whatever it takes to prevent her child from being eliminated. She has no idea what telling them the truth will lead to. But she manages a small nod, to confirm what the man already knows.

  “You’re very brave. And unusual, I think.” There is a pause before he speaks again, as though he is working something out. “Do many of the women in Bellator reject the deletions process?”

  She raises her head a fraction, her voice a whisper, “We’re taught from birth that men are . . .” she casts a worried glance at Fortis, “that men are base, vicious creatures . . .” her voice trails off.

  “So, most women are glad to be rid of a male baby?”

  She nods. “It’s quite rare, and the deletion takes place so quickly that there isn’t much time to consider it. Most of the women who discover they are pregnant with a male fetus are in shock, and like I said, all too happy to have it removed.”

  “Then why weren’t you?”

  “I knew I was with child even before the pregnancy test confirmed it. I felt . . . whole, somehow.” She clenches and unclenches her hands on her knees. “How could I simply delete the being that made me feel complete for the first time ever? No matter what gender.” She shrugs. “I just couldn’t.”

  There is a long pause before Regum speaks again, “Thank you for telling us the truth.”

  He presses the small slip of paper back into her hand, squeezing it gently.

  A sudden cry echoes through the cottage, making them all jump. The two men recover themselves faster than Auro, and Regum is on the other side of the room in no time.

  “I’ll go.”

  He disappears into the other bedroom and she hears him whispering comforting words to the boy in the bed. Once he is gone, she finds herself alone with the intimidating Fortis. She determines to be brave and meets his gaze, which, to her surprise, is now more intrigued than angry.

  He regards her steadily. “Bellator is a good place to live, yes?”

  She frowns. “Yes.”

  “You have a nice life? Enough food to eat, a warm, safe place to live, friends?”

  She nods slowly, unsure where this is leading.

  “So why risk everything? Your life there, the luxuries, for a fetus which happens to be male?”

  He sits back and waits. His questions feel like a trap. If she says the wrong thing, he will revert to his earlier mistrust. She glares at him, hating the way he makes her feel.

  “If you’re desperate to have a baby to make you feel whole,” his tone mocks, “why not just repeat the process? Have a female child instead? That’s permitted, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she counters, “but I didn’t want to.”

  “You didn’t want a female child?”

  “No! I didn’t want to repeat the process. I didn’t want to try for another child. I wanted . . .” She takes a deep breath, hating his narrow judgment of her. “I wanted this child.”

  “Even though he is sure to be a base, vicious creature?”

  “Yes.”

  Like you, she dearly wants to add.

  He continues to regard her closely, but no longer seems quite so threatening. She grows braver still, deciding he should not be the one to ask all the questions.

  “Where do you come from? Why are you here in these woods?”

  He stares at her for a long time, as though deciding how much to tell her. Their positions are reversed, yet he still holds all the cards.

  Eventually, he gestures to the cottage they sit in. “We’re only here temporarily. On a mission, if you like.” The final part of his answer confirms her worst fears. “From Eremus.”

  The elevator is empty. She stares blankly at the rows of buttons in front of her. She is currently on Floor 5, headed up to Floor 19. Her fingers hesitate over the buttons.

  She thinks again of her dream. Of the faces of the other women in the waiting room. The pity on the medic’s face at her result. And the piece of paper in her hand. She is a mother. She should be readying herself for the rest of her pregnancy, for the birth, to bring her child into the world.

  But the test has shown a negative. The fetus is male. Bellator is an all-female society. The city only allows the birth of a few hundred male citizens per year, for the purposes of procreation. These babies are kept under the stringent control of the authorities and confined to certain, experienced mothers. Any other accidental male fetuses are deleted.

  But the moment she knew she was pregnant, Auro felt a connection to this child stronger than any other in her life. Regardless of the baby’s gender, Auro wants it. Needs it.

  But Bellator forbids it.

  She glances down at the paper again and makes her decision. Screwing it up into a ball, she thrusts it into her pocket. Pressing the button marked “Ground Floor”, she rides the elevator down as far as it will go, and exits with her head held high, as though her paper had read FETUS: FEMALE.

  She strides through the main reception of the building, smiling broadly at all she passes. Many of the women smile back, dazzled by the euphoric expression on her face. She sweeps out through the doors of the medi-center with more confidence than she feels, takes a right turn in the carpark and loops around the back of the building.

  Once there, she begins to run.

  “You’re from Eremus!” She cannot keep the horror from her voice.

  He chuckles at her discomfort. “That scare you?”

  She has heard of the remote, uncontrolled settlement, one of those which dominate the land to the far west. The last vestige of male citizens, wh
ere the only men left alive not under the control of the Femcom armies exist. Eremus is the closest to Auro’s home, a desolate, poorly-governed place where no self-respecting Bellator citizen would dare to set foot. Plagued by violent disputes, Eremus has a reputation as a wild, uncontrolled community. The colony is dominated by men, and the women who do live there are abused and treated like slaves. It is regularly raided by the Femcom soldiers, who capture and eliminate as many illegal males as possible for the safety of the Bellator citizens, but they have yet to stamp the society out entirely.

  He takes her silence as confirmation, and his trademark scowl reappears. “What do they tell you about us in Bellator?”

  She takes a breath and considers her reply, not wanting to further anger him. “Eremus is a place Bellator considers . . . dangerous. Filled with lawless men who would . . .”

  “Who would what?”

  She stops, considering. “Who treat women terribly. Who run things the way men always have.”

  “And is that what you think?”

  She shrugs. “I did. Until . . . until recently.”

  His face seems to soften slightly. “And now?”

  “Well if all three of you are from Eremus, you don’t seem . . .” She stumbles over her words. “What I mean is you aren’t all . . . you’re not monsters.” She shoots him a look, “Not all of you, anyway.”

  “Meaning Regum and Paulo have been pleasant, but I’m the devil?” He suddenly grins, “Am I that bad?”

  She can’t help but return the smile, it is so unexpected. “Perhaps not.”

  He sighs, the smile dying away, and she finds herself missing its warmth.

  “Someone has to be hard. If I wasn’t, those two”—he jerks his head toward the room where the low murmur of voices has died away—“would already be dead.”

  There is silence again for a moment, but it no longer seems filled with hatred or fear.

  Eventually, she asks her next question without fear. “Why are you here?”