Bats of the Republic

by Zachary Thomas Dodson

  BEGIN UNIT TRANSCRIPT:

  R. DEXTRA ›› I hate the sun.

  Z. THOMAS ›› Well, there’s no escaping it here.

  ›› Unless you can escape the city-state.

  ›› Stop reading that Deserter propaganda. As your closest friend: It’s fantasy.

  ›› Shhh, man. We’re on the phonotube.

  ›› I’d say that’s your usual paranoia, but I was just visited by a Lawman. So, maybe.

  ›› They have no respect for the Khrysalis?

  ›› They aren’t listening. They’re short on men. They have another murder, besides.

  ›› This animal loose in the city-state?

  ›› That’s just a rumor. Though he did say something strange…

  FLAG ➤ ›› Plenty of animals in the rot. Plenty of folks too. The Deserters are organizing. 〈 DESERTER

  ›› You shouldn’t worry about anything that’s not inside the walls. Remember when we were kids in Salt-Lake, they’d let those animals in for the fair?

  ›› No. My parents never took me.

  ›› There was a mine game I wasn’t allowed to play. And the animal show, you could see the animals, maybe pet a few.

  ›› I’ve never seen one.

  ›› It was sort of scary. They had these little wooden cabinets with glass doors. I remember a rabbit, and a wolf cub that kept nudging the door with his nose. I was sure he was going to get out, and—

  ›› And do what?

  ›› I don’t know, I thought he could possess me or something. 〈 LAUGHTER

  ›› Don’t laugh. I was a kid. I had never seen animals either. Anyway, we spent the most time at the goose house. There were six or seven, in constant motion. Like a…unified chaos. When one gander looked up, they all did. Crossing the small pen, they would all turn at the same time. That weirded me out, them all moving as one like that.

  ›› Looking for a way out.

  ›› I think it must have taken some nudging from my mom to get me to approach the wire mesh. When I was close enough, the geese slowly circled around to meet me. They were these spotted brown ones with golden beaks. They would step, and peck the ground, and turn their little black eyes on me, searching for food. I didn’t have any and they would wander away again, pecking at pebbles, stepping in time, huddling themselves into a pile against the side of the goose house.

  ›› They still do this?

  ›› I don’t know. Maybe only in Salt-Lake. Or they banned them completely.

  ›› Too bad. I’d like to see that.

  ›› Probably suits the animals fine. I wanted to free them that day. There was this one, a white one, with a tuft of neck feathers that looked like a scarf or fur collar. He stayed near the mesh, twisting his head, and doing little dances. For my benefit, I was sure. When I moved down the fence, the white goose followed. I wanted so badly to take him home and keep him as a pet. I named him Schmoe.

  ›› Schmoe?

  ›› Hh, yeah. I couldn’t take Schmoe home, of course. I was heartbroken. My mother had to drag me out of the fair, inconsolable. I was in love with that goose. Some other fate awaited him.

  ›› I’m sure he found his pair and had some baby geese.

  ›› Goslings. What if he began life as a wild goose? He probably didn’t have a choice.

  ›› I don’t think I’ll ever be paired. I’m going to end up in Atlantas, with the Queers. Which actually sounds like more fun than having kids, to me.

  ›› Leeya still won’t talk to you?

  ›› Have you seen her?

  ›› Eliza has. It was better when the four of us could hang out together. You’ve got to lay off the Deserter stuff, Raisin. That’s no way to court someone. If Leeya thinks you’re going to flee over the barrier or, more likely, get yourself thrown in jail, why would she want to pair up with you? Or have kids?

  ›› They’ve got some ideas, the Deserters. I mean, pretty good ideas. I’ve been reading lots of pamphlets. They’re going to build a whole new kind of place, outside the city-states. If I can get Leeya out, we can be together and live free. They say it’s beautiful out there. A natural paradise. All the land you could want. A real place. None of this being transferred every lifephase.

  5 SECONDS DEAD AIR

  ›› No one knows what it’s like out there now.

  ›› The government does. Why aren’t we allowed out? The Collapse was supposed to have destroyed everything. Either things are happening out there, or we’re not where we think we are. They control all the information. Why did a Lawman just show up at your place? That’s a bad sign, Zeke.

  ›› My grandfather had enemies. This is just routine harassment.

  ›› So you’re not worried about it?

  ›› I’m telling you, Raisin, the best thing to do in this city-state is to lie low. Wait it out. Get transferred. The less people pay attention to you, the better off you are.

  FLAG ➤ ›› Well, then we shouldn’t be on the phonotube. They must listen sometimes. 〈 WHISPER

  ›› Let’s get a drink at the square soon.

  ›› Yessir, Senator.

  END UNIT TRANSCRIPT

  Leeya,

  It feels good—thrilling even—to have this pencil in my hand. It is such a shame that the art of handwriting has been done away with. The year I entered school was the year they stopped teaching it. My father didn’t think that was right, so he taught me how to make the letters at home, slowly, patiently. At first I was frustrated that my letters weren’t perfect. I wanted my corners sharp. I thought it should look like type.

  Now I love the idiosyncrasies of handwriting. I’ve even made improvements over what I was taught. Like “” I used to write them like this: “” but don’t you think this is much more civilized: “”? I’ve forgotten all the cursive, all the lowercase. All I have left are the capitals. But I love making the marks. It reminds me of being a child, of Salt-Lake.

  My father was also the one who taught me all about documents, of course. After he left, it didn’t help me find him again. I looked up death records, but none matched the date he disappeared. Either he abandoned me, or he was thrown over the barrier. I don’t even know which I wish it was. If he’s alive it means he’s chosen not to communicate with me ever again. Even after all these years, I still can’t bring myself to understand that…

  I only ever knew him as “Dad.” No last name. The records are full of Grays, w/o a bloodline. It’s bad enough that he left, but he took my past with him. I was lucky that Zeke didn’t care.

  The document skills still come in handy. Good thing Daxon doesn’t run a tight ship at the Vault. It seems easy enough to get the contraband materials for writing and drawing. Using them is another matter. As long as we don’t get caught. !!!

  It’s the only way I can tell you something I don’t want the recorders to hear: I pulled Zeke’s file.

  I told him I was just going to check if they had threaded him to the power lines he cut in front of our unit, but then I ended up reading more than I should have. I felt sick while I did it. • A rock-hard pit in my stomach • But it was a compulsion that I could not resist. It seems beyond betrayal to intrude on his privacy when the city-state gives us so little to begin with but I had to know what is going on with him. Ever since he returned from his grandfather’s funeral he has been in a strange state. He is withdrawn. It’s like he barely hears my questions. Not even my singing calms him in the way that it used to.

  They’ve got an open thread on the watchpost, but he hasn’t been linked to it. We were in a dead zone at the time. It freaked me out, what he did w/ that sabre. Of course I realize he is grieving the loss of his grandfather but still. It feels out of character—and beyond his usual moods. Those I know how to navigate, but this… is different—and it is scaring me. I was beginning to worry—pretty foolishly—that he was interested in being a single again—that our pairing was no longer what he wanted. I just feel like there is something he won’t tell me.
>
  I found this transcript of a phonotube call w/ Raisin. It’s clear they are recording our unit now. We’re no longer in a dead zone. It is bizarre to hear about Zeke’s childhood—he so rarely talks about it with me. It made me feel even more distant from him. Last night, after the watchpost incident, Zeke expressed doubts about taking the Senate seat. He’s been named Khrysalis, but hasn’t accepted. I know that fulfilling his grandfather’s legacy is important to him. But I have my own doubts about what the Senate would mean for our life—and for our children. We’re so young, and we’d be transferred early, out of the lifephase system. Instead of moving city-state to city-state with you, I’d be stuck in Chicago-Land with government workers and old people for the rest of my life. We’d miss the opportunity to have a real family, to be among our peers. I don’t even know how long we’d be allowed to keep any children we had.

  ~ Zeke must be worried about that too, right? ~

  I am also fully aware of the advantages and relative freedom it could afford us. It feels like Zeke’s duty to his grandfather and to their entire bloodline. We’d be important people to the nation of city-states.

  Another thing from the call: Raisin still wants you. I wanted you to see this. I know the push and pull with him is hard. He is still stuck on deserting. But I do know how much you feel for him. I don’t think he’s a bad fellow. Why else would I alter your records? Remember, I also wanted you to transfer early so you could be with him. I just worry that ultimately Raisin is a waste of your time—and potentially dangerous.

  I just want us to survive Texas and be on our way to another city-state. I asked to be assigned to the thread for the murder cases. The records are bizarre and difficult to decipher. There is a clear threat—particularly for young women. I know you’ve done some of the filing for that thread. Please take extra care.

  Someone is watching my work, I know. Whoever it is used my namestamp to flag a book, so it must be someone inside the Vault. I looked up the book in the stacks—just a dusty old Victorian novella. It’s called The Sisters Gray so I know it’s meant for me. But it seems strange.

  —It has a hole in it.

  I made a drawing for you—I have been working on several of these now that I have this pencil. It is such a relief to draw. It has been a long time. Anything to take me out of myself, even for a minute.

  Love you like a sister,

  ELIZA

  Eliza, I flagged a book at the Vault, with your namestamp. It is a risk, but I thought you should see it right away. I’m worried there may be a problem. I think the uncarbon’d letter is important.

  If the Law wants it, there’s a chance it calls Zeke’s bloodline into question. I’m building this case for him, for you both, as a precaution. I have the creeping feeling, which only visits old Historians, that there is some key, some small bit of text that would unlock the pattern. Something that would soar beyond a simple summation of fact and yield the bird’s-eye view.

  Zadock’s letters are filled with wide-eyed descriptions and breathless recounting of the excitements of his first journey. Though by the standards of the day, the party’s trip down the Illinois was fairly uneventful.

  It is difficult to verify historical figures such as the Mexican trader Rodriguez. I have even been unable to find records about McMarrow, though he was a major in the army and seemingly commanded some important battles. It does not help that Zadock muddles his accounts with the prognostications of his spiritual aunt and odes to Elswyth, his love.