Becoming

by Chris Ord

  When the teams had gone Gaia was instructed to make her way to one of the breakout zones where Kali would be waiting for her. The breakout zones were similar to the large dome but on a much smaller scale. There were cushions, but these were random not numbered. They were spread around a central pole with a small raised wooden platform in the centre with a single cushion for the leader, to sit over and address.

  Gaia entered and saw Kali sitting on the leader’s cushion. She was in a meditative position, legs crossed, arms either side, with wrists resting against her knees, and finger and thumb touching to form a loop. Her back looked stiff and straight, head pointing forward, eyes closed, with no expression on her face. The tent was silent but for the gentle rustling of wind through flaps in the roof and sides. Gaia approached, her footsteps were gentle and measured, placed with quiet precision. As she neared the central platform Kali spoke without opening her eyes or breaking position.

  ‘Sit thirty seven.’

  Gaia sat on the cushion nearest the platform, in front of Kali, waiting while Kali continued in silence. Kali was a woman of great natural beauty, something neither age nor the weight of her position had weathered. She had long, brown hair which was always tied up. Her face was long and slim, her features angular and sculptured, and her lips were narrow, almost without colour. Kali had one feature that marked her out from everyone on the island. Her right hand had a small extra finger protruding from the side by the little finger. It was of no use, but it was distinctive, odd. Gaia had never seen this in anyone else, or heard of it. Kali never spoke of it, and no-one dared ask, but made no attempt to conceal it. As with Gaia, Kali was someone of few words, choosing the words needed, no more. Kali was precise and clinical in both her commands and singular and boundless capacity for cruelty.

  Gaia waited and after minutes that seemed much longer Kali opened her eyes. She remained in the same position, staring forward at nothing. Kali stood, twisted her neck, stretched her arms out wide and out front. She reached down and touched her toes a few times, placed her hands on her hips, and rotated her body from side to side. Her head switched between each side as she moved. Stopping her warm down, Kali moved forward to the edge of the platform in front of where Gaia sat, towering over her. The platform, her height, and Gaia’s seated position all conspired to create a huge gulf between them.

  ‘Thank you for coming thirty seven. I’ll keep this brief. Do you know why you are here?’

  ‘No Leader.’

  Sweat trickled down Gaia’s brow. Kali had a commanding presence. All felt weak before her. Kali waited and spoke, her voice booming overhead.

  ‘We’ve some concerns about your behaviour. Things have been noticed by us, other activities have been brought to our attention. I needn’t go into detail or spell them out. You’ll be well aware of what I mean. I just wanted to let you know that you are being watched, very closely. We expect to see an improvement. I personally expect it, or there will be consequences. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes Leader, though I’m not sure what you refer to. Could you give some specific instances.’

  Kali’s blue eyes lit up, her nostrils flared, and face twisted as the muscles around her lips tensed. Scowling she spat a reply.

  ‘You know full well. I needn’t and won’t give examples.’

  Gaia looked back at her. Their eyes locked in a silent duel. Gaia knew she would lose, but she wanted to send a message, a momentary, futile message. Gaia understood, but would not take this lightly. She focused all her anger and disdain into her stare, hoping her feelings would transmit into the eyes of the enemy before her. Kali knew, and could sense the resistance from Gaia, the simmering resentment. It was always there with Gaia, but it was all for her own good. Someday Gaia would understand. This was not the cruelty she thought it was, it was a gateway to kindness, to understanding, to becoming. Structure was strength. Gaia needed to learn that, and one day would. Kali would make sure of it. The moment of deadlock passed. The message sent, received and cast aside. Kali moved onto the death of the girl the day before.

  ‘Now something else, the incident with two, six, four yesterday. It was unfortunate, but you did the right thing. She was weak, you were strong. If you’d gone to help her you’d have been killed and weakened the lines for us all. You recall the stag story? Together we are stronger. Always remember that. It is more important than you know.’

  Kali waited for a response, but there was none. Gaia sat and looked up at her, this time trying to conceal her anger. Gaia wanted this over with. The leaders threats were cloaked in compliments, but it did not fool Gaia. There was no point in responding, or fighting back. The revenge would come soon, in another way. Kali would feel the full extent of Gaia’s fury someday, paying the highest price for the way she treated all the young. They would all pay. Kali had trained Gaia, given her precious skills, and these would be turned on her and the other leaders without mercy. Kali had created her own downfall, Gaia.

  There was a noise at the back of the tent. They both turned to see Freya standing by the entrance. It was not clear how long she had been there, whether she had heard the conversation, just some, or none at all. Gaia knew that Freya was one of Kali’s spies. She had always known this and these appearances confirmed it. Why was it always Freya? Gaia hated Freya, almost as much as she hated Kali. Freya was the golden girl in looks, skills and behaviour. Her hair was shoulder length and blonde, eyes the customary blue, but a doe-eyed giddy kind of blue. Her beauty was unrivalled within the community, with porcelain, translucent skin without fault or blemish. However, her smile was her greatest weapon. Her smile and her body. Both were perfect, and Freya could disarm any boy and many of the girls with either. Where she excelled in every way on the outside, she commanded a steely resolve on the inside. Like Gaia, Freya was a survivor, someone who knew how to succeed, but with no reservations about pursuing the most desirable route with a singular and ruthless focus.

  There were lots of rumours about Freya, perhaps more than any other on the island. There were whispers of her liaisons with others, with boys, girls, and even leaders. Whatever was or was not true, Gaia knew Freya could not be trusted. Gaia would be extra careful around her now, would watch her, let her know of her suspicions. Gaia would not let this lie. Kali nodded her head in permission, and Freya spoke. Her voice was calm and controlled.

  ‘Apologies Leader, but the mission to seek the rats is about to leave. They are waiting for you before they set off.’

  ‘Thank you seventy three. We’re coming now. We’ve concluded here. Thirty seven follow seventy three and join her group. You’ll be coming on the mission with us. Go and get kitted out and we’ll see you both by the main gate in five minutes.’

  This was as Gaia had feared, her worst nightmare. Not only was she allocated the most dangerous task of the day, but she was going to have to put up with Freya in her team, and be led by Kali. Gaia and Freya had been in teams together before, more often than Gaia would have liked. Today of all days Gaia could not bear the thought of seeing Freya’s face. The last 24 hours had changed everything for Gaia, thrown things into turmoil. She needed to regroup, time to think. She was starting to feel the tiredness seeping back. Her morning bounce was fading, and later would be a struggle. A search and destroy mission was dangerous at the best of times, but she was not in the best mental shape. Gaia would need to perk up and be on her guard.

  5

  Gaia and Freya went to the main dome and collected their equipment for the mission. This time Gaia took a dagger and an axe, Freya a dagger and spear. Both were masters in their use, both had been trained to kill, a match for anyone, or anything. Neither spoke at any point. Gaia had no idea what Freya thought of her. She did not care, but she sensed that Freya had picked up some of the hatred towards her, so kept a respectful distance. Though they were very different, they both knew the other was a formidable foe. Despite the simmering hatred there was mutual respect.

  They made their way to the main gate to join the te
ams. There were three teams of twenty, each with their own leader. They were a balance of boys and girls, mostly made of elder members, those that were close to becoming. There were a smattering of the fearless and more able younger cohorts, there because they had shown promise and were seen worthy of the experience. The teams stood apart, but near. They were gathered around their leader listening to the strategy and orders for the mission. Each team had a discrete role, frontline, rearguard, and support. The mission was clear, to scour one of the zones on the island, to find concentrations of rats, and where possible kill them. Gaia and Freya were to join Kali’s team.

  They joined their team, all huddled around Kali, focusing on her calm, precise words. It was then Gaia noticed Aran, on the edge of the group, obscured by a couple of taller boys. He looked up as they approached, caught her eye and looked back at Kali. Gaia could see he was surprised and was trying to mask his discomfort. Gaia moved into the main body of the group, near the back, and away from Aran. Freya moved to the front, almost standing under Kali’s nose. Gaia tried to listen, but most of the words drifted in and out in waves. She would catch the odd word, register it, the ones that seemed to have more relevance. ‘Rearguard’ was the one word that kept puncturing her dazed stupour.

  Once the briefing was over they moved through the main gate. It was a large wooden structure, taller than the walls that held it. The walls were to be heightened and strengthened given the growing threat from the rats. This was deemed a key task for the community. One of the teams was working on a section of wall. Once through the gates the teams set off down the main road and through the derelict village. The road had long been neglected. It was functional and passable now, but few vehicles used it. Only the trucks that came and went, ferrying each wave of cohort on and off the boats that landed at the small jetty at the edge of the village. The shops and houses of the village had been left to rot and crumble, their quaint charm long since faded. Most were made of whitewashed stone with crooked roofs of slate tiles. Gardens were overgrown with weeds and wild flowers, wooden fences, rotten, gates hanging off or gone. There was an old pub, the Red Lion, the broken sign still hanging at the front. No longer expectant, no longer welcoming, the windows were broken and boarded up. There was an array of disused shops: a butchers; a general convenience store; a bakers; and a post office. All now lost and unwanted, all waiting for a purpose that would never come again, monuments to the days that came before.

  They passed a red post box, and a narrow cast iron box with a rectangular chessboard of small glass windows. Gaia had read it was a phone box where people would go to speak to each other using machines. Gaia had entered it once. It was empty and stank, a damp, musty odour with a hint of stale urine. Wires spewed from one of the walls where the telephone once was before it was ripped out. A noticeboard was on the wall above with various numbers and graffiti etched on it. There was a drawing of a penis and scrotum, along with some ample breasts, and many strange shapes, symbols, and numbers Gaia did not recognise. A different language for different times.

  The houses in the village all had a uniformity in their look which once gave them their charm. Gaia had always thought the village would have been a beautiful place to live. The isolation of the island had both complications and appeal. The accessibility would have made it a very insular, self-contained community. Even now that she knew there was a road to the island, the causeway, it would still have limited access dictated by the tides. It would mainly have been populated by those that were born there, and had grown atuned to this unique way of life. Or maybe those that came here to escape, to get away from the mainland and live life in a different way. How ironic she thought. Their refuge was her prison.

  Gaia could never decide whether, given the choice, she would live somewhere like this. The point was she had never been given that choice. Everywhere had been chosen by others. Her whole life had been spent living with and for others. A prison made and controlled by others. Despite its rugged beauty and charm and the appeal of silence and solitude the island was the latest in a long line of prisons. She could not disassociate the island from the chains that bound her, therefore it could never win her heart. It was a place of beauty to behold, but beauty lay in the beholder’s eye. The eyes through which Gaia saw it had been clouded by the darkness of the community, their power and control.

  Given the choice where would Gaia live? She had often dreamed. Perhaps an island of her own, or somewhere on the mainland? A large house with acres of landscaped gardens of flowers and veg, and a family of her own. All Gaia wanted was somewhere she could be herself, determine her own life, drive her own destiny. Anywhere but here. Did such places exist? Were there people out there leading such lives free of the community? Gaia doubted it. All she had been taught, all the whispers, every indication was that way of life had disappeared. It was gone, destroyed forever. It was as Kali said. Together they were stronger.

  Gaia’s knowledge of the world was limited, drip fed, controlled. She knew that large parts of the world were no longer accessible. They were poisoned, destroyed, populated by deformed creatures. Other humans had survived, rebuilt again, started over as best they could, as the community had done. Living on an island, albeit a large one as the mainland was, had saved the community. They were told it was something in their genetic code that made them special, had helped them survive, made them immune to the poison. The blue eyes were the indicator. That was why all in the community were bred, and the whole reproductive process was controlled. It ensured the gene pool remained pure. All impurities or mutations were identified and destroyed.

  The narrow gene pool caused problems. There were some conditions and diseases that were caught within the pool and were difficult to contain or filter out. The main one was the fading of memory. This was common amongst the elders. For some their memories would disappear and they would lose their ability to function. The condition varied in its speed and severity, but a great many of the elders suffered it. Most developed it early in the final phase. They knew of it and prepared for it, but few spoke of it. The community had a special place for them. They were taken away and cared for, but never seen again.

  The community had been built by the survivors. They had begun again, started time all over again. They had moved back to a simple life, an existence based on community, on working together, on the common good. They believed they were the chosen ones, trusted to start again. Who had chosen them, no-one knew. Maybe it was just life itself, their existence and survival. They were determined to learn from the mistakes of the past and not repeat them. The fragile morality of the old beliefs and religions had failed to provide the moral guidance that was needed. Instead they had bickered and fought over their gods. The truth was they all seemed to worship the same god, but in different ways.

  The panacea of science had promised redemption, a world free from disease, where food was genetically engineered and plentiful. A world where man need not fear nature. A world where man could tame and conquer it. A world of electricity, of powered vehicles that cruised the roads, and soared across the skies, of weapons that could kill men, women, children in far off countries with the push of buttons and the turn of dials. Pandora had been unleashed and could not be controlled. Frankenstein’s monster was growing, but few saw it, and none took heed. The arrogance and folly of humanity marched on.

  The scientists were supported by governments and companies, the former driven by domination, security and power, the latter by profit and greed. The law was meant to replace the moral vacuum left by the holy men, to provide the checks and balances. While the religions fought with all that failed to tread their path, the scientists raced against each other. The quest to be the first at anything spurred them on. They were driven by man’s innate desire to push the boundaries, to break new ground. Man’s great dynamism, and contradiction. Money was plentiful and the scientists fed on it. Like parasites sucking on blood they grew ever bigger, ever stronger, ever hungrier. Then the poisons came. It was an attempt to m
odify the food, to genetically improve it. A company involved in secret research got greedy, sloppy. Something went wrong, and the food chain became polluted, infected, poisoned. It spread everywhere. Humans died, animals too. Some of the latter survived, but they changed. In order to survive they changed, such was the order of things. Mutant strains emerged, creatures that were so different from their former species to be almost another species all together. Except they were no longer mutants. They were the survivors, they became the norm. This was the law of nature, as it had always been. Humanity lost sight of that, and almost perished.

  Now the community remained. The community and the outsiders. The shadow that hung over the community was of paranoia and fear. Everything within was driven by the fear that this could, but must not happen again. All that was encouraged and allowed, all that was frowned upon and forbidden, all that was created, all that was destroyed, all that was taught, all that was learned. Everything. The impulse, the drivers all centred around the new way, and a dogged determination to not go back to the old ways. With paranoia comes control. The need to exercise and maintain it at all costs. The community had developed an internal logic based around collective need. Every phase of development was seen as a precise stage to prepare community members for their contribution. Every decision, every task were centrally determined, planned and controlled. This was the new law.