by P. S. Lurie
I see Doctor Jefferson work through the calculation in his head. He has to have been with my mother at least nine months before Leda was born. I have little doubt that their affair started at least that long ago but if I am wrong then he has no reason to help my sister. I guess knowing what I do about him then he doesn’t have reason even if Leda is his.
But he nods to himself. It was a gamble and it paid off.
I remain stoic and don’t give away that I’m bluffing. I had to pretend I was pained that Leda was his or what chance would I have convincing him? But the part of my mind that also believes it has relentlessly won out as I realise that I’ve been fooling myself because, although I’ve tried to ignore the similarities in their features, maybe it is true, maybe Leda is his daughter. I shake this thought away. Leda is my sister and Doctor Jefferson has the tools to help her, which is all that matters right now.
Doctor Jefferson takes Leda from my arms and I don’t resist. Just like that he is willing to help her. He feels her pulse, holds a finger against her nostrils, and then presses slightly against her forehead. “You should have brought her to me immediately.”
He disciplines me like a careless child and I am ashamed, not because of who he is but because he is right. I should’ve come here weeks if not months ago.
“You can treat her?”
“Yes, but you can’t stay. You have to get to the announcement.”
“You’re not going?”
“I’m on call. I have to monitor the patients but the screens are set up here for live streaming. I figure I won’t be promoted anytime soon so what difference?”
A year ago we managed with the basics such as fishing rods and wood fires and now we bandy words around such as ‘live streaming’ so blasé as if we’ve been living in the digital age forever. “Thank you.”
“Don’t come back here for a week Theia. If they audit you we’ll both be in trouble. We’ll all be in trouble.”
“You’re going to let Leda go with me when I come back?”
“When she’s healthy, yes. It’s not like I can take her to the barracks. We’ll figure the rest out later.”
“Thank you,” I say once more, and I can already feel the tension in my body dissipate as relief kicks in, scrambling away from the flood and collapsing onto solid ground.
Doctor Jefferson scans me out of the room and checks the corridor. It’s risky that I even entered here without logging in and out but what choice did we have? I’m just pleased he is willing to help.
“One more thing Theia.”
I know what he’s going to ask so I answer before he has a chance to speak. “They killed her. They shot her from a helicopter.” It’s the truth but a flimsy guilt-free version.
I feel anxious to let Leda stay with him but it’s the right thing to do, and I don’t want to explain any more of that night to Doctor Jefferson, so I walk away before he can ask me. My mother’s death is a lot more complicated than that. It’s true that the Upperlanders killed my mother. But she died saving me. Her death was in vain. It could have been her instead of me. They could have been happy. But without me, Ronan and Leda, could she really have been happy? I guess I’ll never know. They’re my responsibility now.
I feel the image of my garden bubbling its way up into my head but I dig into my palm and swat it away with thoughts of heading to the arena, relieved that at least something went right today. The flashback recedes.
Doctor Jefferson does not need to know what really happened that night. I can’t have him hate me for fear of the repercussions for Leda.
It’s bad enough that I can’t stop picturing what happened to my mother. I don’t need to speak the words out loud.
Selene
A few others scan out from our apartment building in orderly fashion, all dressed up and hopeful for news of the Utopia but I don’t recognise any of our neighbours and none seems to recognise me. Nathaniel lets me go first and I hold my watch against the scanner in the lobby. It’s been so long that I don’t remember leaving our home so I’m not surprised that nothing happens for a few seconds, as if my identification piece needs some time to wake up.
“Try again,” Nathaniel says, as a queue builds up behind us.
I do but still nothing happens.
Nathaniel holds his watch up and the panel speaks back to him. “Nathaniel Penn. Status: approved.”
My fiancée takes my hand. “Don’t worry, we’ve got to go and we’ll figure it out later.”
I trust him so we leave the building through the unlocked door, without proper permission granted for me but I guess it doesn’t matter because there’s only one direction I’m headed, which is to watch the announcement at the arena. It’s the year anniversary since the Great Cull and President Callister has hinted at exciting news for this month’s speech. For as long as I can remember I’ve watched all of the broadcasts either as they’ve happened or as repeats on the news channels that night. The promotions make my eyes well up with hope that the Middlelanders are settling into our society but then the executions remind me that they are not all good people and some don’t deserve to be amongst us. As Nathaniel says, it’s better to filter those people out before we board the Utopia.
We’re outside and I feel the coolness against my skin. The coat warms me but I almost wish I’d braved the cold in just my dress because I want to show it off. As excited as I am to reach the arena we walk slowly, others overtaking us, because my legs are still waking up to this long distance.
I let Nathaniel lead the way because I have no idea how to navigate us there. I can feel the energy in the air from those around me – hopeful and optimistic – and I feel invigorated by this so that by the time I pass the Utopia and see the Fence I want to break into a run. I want to feel my legs and arms flying through the air, released from the shackles of my broken mind. Perhaps being outside and free and over-stimulated was the best medicine and something I should have done a long time ago.
I feel free, but only for a glorious moment before my stomach drops as I remember...
I never took the pill. After I vomited the first pill, the altercation with the unwelcome visitor distracted me from taking another. I decide to not tell Nathaniel as he might want to return to the apartment. I figure I can keep it a secret and take the medication in a matter of a couple of hours, which shouldn’t make a difference. I’m feeling good, as if I might be ready to be weaned off them anyway.
We arrive at the arena and are directed up one of the many wide stairwells, from where we will oversee the events within the upper tiers, higher than the Middlelanders who are not yet promoted, but only at about one fifth of the height of the Fence. Nathaniel scans in but tells me not to bother trying. It’s a staggered auditorium so every seat is well positioned, but no one sits because mass euphoria dictates standing and cheering throughout.
“What’s that?” I ask, looking at the walkway overhead.
“Connects the Fence to the Utopia. One of the many entrances. Easily detachable if we set sail.” The ship is far behind us now, out of sight, and I feel dizzy at the thought of being on a bridge so high off the ground.
Nathaniel leads me to a position near the front, from where I can see down into the centre of the arena onto the Middlelanders gathering into groups, with the concourse filling up of them. I can just about make out faces of these people we have welcomed into our society and I am disappointed that they do not look as happy as us but the excitement that spreads through this tier is contagious and I forget all my worries.
My body feels refreshed, as if it has been restrained for the past year. It makes me think of those who will be executed for the most severe punishments of disloyalty and ingratitude. They will be handcuffed and their mouths bound when drowned on the other side of the Fence. I never understood why the precautions were necessary until Nathaniel explained that struggling to keep afloat would only prolong their suffering. Sometimes, like Nathaniel has done for me this past year, restraints are a good thing.
/> The thought brings me back to my vision of floating in the sea that has grown stronger over time. Perhaps my mind has confused watching the announcements with imagining myself in these criminals’ position. That must be it. I shouldn’t care about them but the mind is a funny thing.
It’s a reassuring thought that I have an explanation for my visions and, along with this morning’s escape from the apartment, I have never felt better. It is as if my mind is slowly starting to wake up. I hope my memories will finally start to come back to me. Nathaniel has told me about how we met, about his proposal to me, about my family and who I used to be, and reminds me that Doctor Graft has sworn that this will eventually all return as long as I take my pills and rest. I feel like this day is better than any medicine and I am so pleased I convinced Nathaniel to let me accompany him here. It’s warm in the crowds and I take off my coat and feel on top of the world in my dress as strangers compliment me on it.
I feel like I am soaring, miles above the Fence, as if my head is waiting to burst and the memories can stream in.
I can’t wait to remember everything.
Ruskin
I force myself to stand up, despite my legs shaking and threatening to buckle underneath me. I crack my eyes open enough to begin to take in my surroundings. I have seen so little in the way of colour or vibrancy or nature that the field is overwhelming. Yellow flowers pop up around me, glistening with the morning dew, unconcerned about the terror that beseeches the world some way beyond the Fence. And because there has been little in my life between then and now, this field from where the announcement was filmed feels so familiar, as if the Surge happened yesterday.
I take some deep breaths and feel my body calm down. I am all alone, more so that I may be the only living member of my family. But there’s a chance I can find my parents. And I have to find Jack. And Henry.
I force myself to deal with the expanse around me. “One step at a time,” I say out loud. That’s all I can muster right now but it is good enough. I’ve learnt that my time in prison has affected my ability to feel safe in uncontained places, as if I no longer trust anyone or even the world at large. I want to take a step but first I need to work out which way I’m going. Then I hear the noise which gives me my answer.
Distant cheering grows louder, coming from my left.
I look towards the horizon and just about see the tops of buildings through the haze. The city that makes up the Upperlands is my best guess as to what I’m looking at, but I don’t know if that’s where I’ve been this past year.
“One step,” I say as I move my foot.
I move forward a miniscule amount and repeat with the other foot.
The more steps I take the easier it becomes to walk until I count my pace and the ground turns to stone then pavement as I leave the field behind.
I’ve been going about ten minutes and the closer I get to the noise that flares up every minute or so the more afraid I feel. I have no idea what I’ll find and I’m not actually sure anything could be worth finding. But I think of Jack and my parents and giving up on them. “One step.”
I walk on and look at the watch. Five more minutes, then ten more, then another fifteen minutes pass and the buildings look no closer, but eventually they start to stretch higher than my line of vision. There are hundreds but none is close to the height that I remember the Fence to be. Eventually I have a clear view through some of the buildings and there it is, the Fence, jutting out and taking up most of the panorama. I was right that it is still the tallest structure going. But there is also something else, a building of sorts on its side, yet I can’t figure it out because it appears in broken parts behind other buildings and seems to stretch lengthways almost as far as the Fence. As I get closer I see the Fence is more intricately detailed than my memory of it. The Middlelands’ side of the Fence was pure cement and surrounded at the base by the homeless camps but I can just about make out pipes and objects running all over it. I wonder how high up the sea has climbed on the other side.
The noise becomes deafeningly louder as I find myself amongst gleaming modern buildings, and I can’t shake the realisation that it would be impossible to see over the Fence into the Middlelands, even from the rooftops. I work out why this is: to stop the Middlelanders from previously being able to see the life that existed on this side, not that it matters anymore. Instead, the Fence is soaring to block the flood that has washed over my old community.
Then I am distracted by another insight. Despite the noise there is not a single person in view as I walk through this deserted futuristic city. I figure that it has not been abandoned but instead, because of the sound of applause, everyone has congregated somewhere nearby.
I find myself in front of the sideways building and realise it is built on stilts and the curve at the front makes me realise that what I’m looking at is a humongous ship.
Jack and I spent a lot of time wondering how the sea was faring, if the Middlelands had lost the fight and if the Upperlanders had begun theirs, and whether the Fence would do enough to keep the water out. In concordance with the men’s description of the flood, I think I have my answer.
I push the screen on the watch and the time pops up in electric green: it is two minutes to nine o’clock. The time doesn’t mean much except for the vastness this day has already had. I don’t know what I’m about to stumble upon but I’m pretty certain the guards left me in that field with enough time to make it here on purpose. I could’ve stayed put, or hidden, or given up, but curiosity and a drive to find my parents has brought me here. Nothing the Upperlanders do is by chance. I guess the Fence would stretch on so there would have been no escape whichever way I’d gone. Then I think I should find the prison but I don’t know where to start. I’m scared about what lies ahead and I could turn around now but what would that achieve?
I walk through a tunnel that leads me under the bulk of the noise, the crowds’ deafening cheers from above. Up ahead, through the glare I see thousands of people standing in groups, with their backs to me, looking towards the top of the Fence. Despite the racket they are all silent.
Whether they are allies or enemies I have no idea and I brace myself for what I am about to witness next.
9 A.M. – 10 A.M.
Theia
I find Selma and Melissa, standing on the outskirts of the crowds where we normally meet. Selma raises her eyebrows to me and I nod, and that’s all we need to convey to one another. Melissa doesn’t ask and I have no idea if that means she knows or not; I didn’t see her at the hospital and even if Selma told her it wouldn’t do us any favours to discuss Leda within earshot of others.
There are thousands of us standing in groups but not saying much, men and women mostly divided, and on the next tier up there are even more: a combination of the Upperlanders and a subsection of Middlelanders that have proven their gratitude and loyalty and have already been promoted. They no longer live in the barracks and I wonder whether they’ve ever looked back. I turn around to face them. There’s no misery in the faces of the men and women above us because the Upperlanders are friends, family members and partners who have had no reason to be removed from one another during some terrible night in their past.
The crowd above lets out a self-appointed cheer but since they are always excitable it doesn’t mean the announcement is necessarily starting, so I continue to scan for Selene and Harriet. A few people glance down but mostly they ignore us. Kate told me that they begrudge our silence but convince themselves it’s because we’re politely waiting to hear about promotions rather than being defiant and unhappy to be here.
I skim through the crowd but don’t recognise anyone.
Behind the Upperlanders, I can’t see it but the Utopia stands firm, seemingly in its final stages of completion but I have never set foot inside so I have no idea what state it is in. All I know from overhearing Kate and catching glimpses of the news channels that she mindlessly watches whilst I clean around her is that the Utopia has been designed t
o float on the sea, with enough space that all the families in the Upperlands can fit, along with enough space for agriculture, commercial sites and recreation activities. The human world will consist of only what is afloat, with no destination except continued existence. Of course this is only if the Fence doesn’t hold. I turn back and stare at the wall that stands between us and the flood, specifically at one part of it.
Shortly after we were Rehoused the gates were sealed watertight. Not long after that construction began around a covered up ten metre stretch of the Fence, just wide of where we stand to watch the announcements occur, as if it was designed to be just within our field of vision. This happened at several other spots along the Fence too. For a week there was activity behind durable sheets, and rumours flew around as to what was happening but even the wildest theories didn’t come close. Some of the more modest guesses were for strengthening the foundations whilst other people thought it was for some sophisticated irrigation system. I was just pleased that the scaffolding masked the decaying homeless corpses that were unlikely to have been moved since the cull. We never mentioned them as if that would allow us to forget and pretend that at least what happened was far removed from where we now stood.
Exactly one month into being Rehoused, we were gathered for our first announcement when I saw President Callister for the second time. A helicopter landed gracefully onto the summit of the Fence and the President spoke through the speakers above us. There were no executions that first month but mention of a few imprisonments. Mostly there were promotions, more than in any of the proceeding months, which were set to inspire and keep us in check. President Callister rounded off her speech with talk of the work at the Fence. At the conclusion of her words, our eyes were drawn to the construction site as the sheets came down.
We gasped whilst the Upperlanders applauded; what was once cement was now a thick pane of glass, running the height and depth of the Fence, through which we could see the world that we had left behind. Any thoughts we had of trying to forget the horrors behind the Fence were stripped from us because now we could see directly into our past homeland. Fortunately, and perhaps as a random act of kindness from the Upperlanders, there were no rotting bodies in sight.