I, Cassandra

by E A Carter

  I say nothing. I don't care what Amadi says now, it's meaningless to me. I don't care what happens to him. He watched me cry myself to sleep over Ryan, let me suffer because he didn't want to be alone. Everything has been a fucking massive lie.

  I need to leave. To never see him again. I can't stand the sight of him. I feel sick that we fucked. This is worse than the soldiers at The Jackpot—worse than Zee. Then, I had no choice. But this, this is a violation that sears me to my core.

  'Wait,' he says, and the look in his eyes, dark with his fear of what lies ahead for him makes me pause.

  'The sphere,' he nods at the shelter, 'take it, it's yours.'

  'I was going to anyway,' I say, pissed off he thinks he's in any position to grant me gifts.

  'No,' he grunts through a fresh strafe of pain. 'It was made for you to have on Mars. I know what it is. I just don't know how to activate it. I've been trying to figure it out while you slept so I could surprise you. I really did want to make you happy, you know.'

  'So, what is it?'

  'It's a cat,' he cuts a look at Ryan, 'made like him.'

  I blink. 'A cat? Is it . . . Miro?'

  He shrugs. 'It's a cat, and it's yours, that's all I know. All I did was find it and carry it around for a really long time. Maybe all this was meant to be. Who fucking knows anymore.'

  I give him one long, last look as he huddles back into his misery. He meets my eyes and in them I see nothing is as simple as good and evil in this place of wrong stars and a tropical North Pole. He's not a bad man. He did keep me alive when I would have died. No, he's just a man who let his fears rule him at my expense. He took a gamble and failed. I glance at the pod.

  'Better luck with this one.' I won't say goodbye. He's not worth it.

  Bleak, he turns away from me, and I know it's over. Back in the shelter I settle the sphere in its vine basket with extreme tenderness. At the thought it might be a replica of Miro I have to blink back tears. I caress its surface, and find the place for my thumbprint. Later, I promise myself with a faint smile, I will try again. This was de Pommier's doing, I am certain of it. I thought she was a monster, but now, I'm not so sure. She made me a gift so I wouldn't be lonely in Mars, and somehow Amadi found it and then I found him, ten thousand years from home.

  When I step back out into the heat of the sun, Ryan is at the pod, his fingers moving over its screen. Its quiet bleat quickens just a touch, and a line flares to life at the bottom left hand corner of the screen. I wonder if it's some kind of progress marker.

  Amadi still has his back to us, his head between his knees. I doubt he's aware of what Ryan has done.

  'In a week,' Ryan says as he rises to his feet, 'whoever is in here will wake up.'

  'Why would you help him?' I ask as he takes the sphere's basket from me and settles its strap over his shoulder.

  'Who's to say I'm helping him?' Ryan asks. 'Anyone could be inside. He'll get what he deserves.'

  Ryan's hand enfolds mine, warm and strong. He's real to me. I don't care what's underneath. He's Ryan. He waited for me for ten thousand years and found me against all the odds. I follow him as he leads me away from the pod, past the shelter with its smoking fire, and the little stand of trees that represented my entire world for over a month.

  He moves with purpose, bearing south, as if he knows exactly where he is going. I don't look back. I don't need to. I can feel Amadi's eyes on us. I expect him to call after us, to follow us, to try to negotiate, or even to beg not to be left behind but he doesn't. There is only silence. And then I understand why Ryan did what he did. Even though he's a machine, he's the better man, and Amadi knows it.

  FIFTEEN | AMADI EZENWA

  * * *

  It's all shit. For a second time, Ryan Maddox has walked away from me, and this time he has taken the one who gave me purpose, who gave me a reason to fight to survive in this depressing, lonely, alien place. Now, all that's left for me is to wait for the pod to wake up its passenger—the one I tried to kill. The one Ryan stopped me from killing.

  Even after a week, I still can barely look at the pod—a sentinel of a world long gone—my shame is so great. What if there is a child in there? Who have I become that I could even consider ending their life as if I am a god and have the power to decide who lives and who dies? And so, here I sit, alone once more in the scant shade of the trees, their thin trunks a grid against the intense blue of the skies, and dwell on a single thought: I am a murderer. And it was a machine who condemned me.

  I don't even know how to pick it apart, to understand myself or what I have become. I was a good kid. I hated what the powers of the world did to the planet, I wanted to make things right, and all I have done is make things wrong. I gave the order to murder one million people. They suffered and died horrible, painful deaths because of me. I could have refused. I could have, but I didn't. I chose this path. I ended up here, under these alien trees because I was selected by the Prime Minister to get a free ticket out of hell.

  I laugh, but it's a bitter thing. I thought I was going to get my revenge for what happened to Adiana, instead, all I got was what I deserved. And when I had a second chance to do the right thing—to tell Cassandra that I had found Ryan, of his devastation when he found her pod already open and her not there—to ease her suffering, to help her search for him, I said nothing. Instead I held her while she cried, while she grieved for him, and willed it all to go away.

  The truth bores into me like a worm in a rotten apple. I am a total piece of shit. I am no better than the ones who ran Global Command and tore the world apart for their own selfish purposes. My father would be so disappointed in me. I am not this man. I am not. I am Amadi Ezenwa, the man who loved Adiana, who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. To be indomitable, like him. I am still that man, somewhere under all the bad I have done. I just have to find a way back to him.

  Nests. I could hunt for more abandoned nests in case whoever is in the pod is a woman. My thoughts race away, eager to escape and explore projects I could do to prepare for the passenger's awakening, like Cassandra did. She made a hat for them but it's an awful thing. I could make a better one. I get up. Yes. I'm a liar, a coward and a shit, but I am going to make it right somehow. I am going to be that man again. A good man. Even here. No matter what. No matter who's in that pod. I'm going to be good. I'm going to redeem myself, because I can't stand who I've become.

  The walk to the lake takes a few hours and the search through the stiff blades of the shore grasses for nests eats up several more, but I find three nice clean nests out of a dozen and I am pleased with the haul. It feels good to be doing something, even if it's hot as fuck and sweat is running down the crack of my ass. I decide to take a quick dip in the lake, just to cool off before I head back.

  I know there's a chance the pod could awaken its passenger while I'm gone, but it's been sitting there for ten thousand years, so the chances of it activating while I stop for a quick swim are low enough to give me the confidence to wade in up to my waist and give myself a little time to simply exist here in this place, to find some pleasure in it—something I realise I have never done before.

  The water feels good, and the lake's sandy bottom puffs with little explosions as I work my way in.

  'One small step for mankind,' I say. I have no idea why I do, it just happens, but as I submerge myself down to my shoulders it feels appropriate. No one else has been in this lake before. No one. I am sure of it.

  I gaze at its expanse. All this water, all this space, and only me, Cassandra, Ryan—whatever he is—and whoever is in the pod remain out of the entire history of humans on Earth. It's a huge thing to wrap my head around, how everything we achieved as a race has come to this: me in a lake with a shitty beard waiting for someone who's been frozen for ten thousand years to wake up. I don't let the thought that they might not wake up during my lifetime take root. It's a possibility, but I can't leave them, I won't. If I do just one thing right, it will be this: If they don't wake up be
fore I go, I will at least leave behind something for them to make a start. Already I am thinking about building a better shelter, I could carry rocks back from the nearest ravine. It will take forever, but what the hell else do I have to do? Nothing. There is only this: To think of who comes next. To prepare for them.

  I lay back into the gentle lap of the water and gaze at the sky, it's a darker blue now, and there's a tinge of yellow along the horizon which means night is upon us. The air is still hot even if the sun is lower; the 'nights' are too short for the land to cool down and the brief, sharp rainfalls that hit once or twice a day only deepen the humidity. I take my time and try to clean myself as best I can. I wish I could find a way to cut the disgusting tangled mess my beard has become. What I need is flint, but I haven't found any yet. Maybe further south I'll find some, if I ever get there.

  The lake's waters soothe me. After a week of feeling like total shit, I drift, my eyes closed and lose myself in plans of how I will design the shelter to weather the passage of time in case I am here for the long haul. Deep into my plans, the heat of the sun intensifies against my face. I sit and squint into the diamond glint of its light reflected across the peaks of the waves, a brilliant carpet of light. A glance into the sky tells me what I don't want to know. It's late. Very late.

  Panic grips me so hard I almost leave the basket of nests behind. I know it's senseless to feel such fear when the pod has been silent for ten millennia but all at once it occurs to me at every moment there is a fifty percent chance the pod could open, which preys on my mind in a way that makes me think I have fucked up again. Like it's personal. Like I am always one step behind. I curse myself for not having left a message in the sand by the shelter. The fire has probably gone out, too. They will think there is no one there and wander off. Dogged by self recrimination, paranoia and fear, I hurry back as fast as the infuriating, endless tangle of vines will allow me. I can't fuck up again. I can't.

  I stagger into the clearing on the cusp of madness, convinced I have failed, certain the pod's passenger is already hours away. The pod sits closed, silent and aloof, its infuriating permanence a mockery of my fleeting terror. Weak with relief, I stumble over to it to cool myself against its metal skin. For once I didn't fuck up. I lay over it, to soak in its radiant coolness, but it doesn't feel cold at all. I remember it being much cooler than this before. But I don't dwell on it, trapped in the pleasure of my reprieve my thoughts race ahead, determined to make sure this never happens again. Next time I will leave a message plus extra fuel for the fire and—

  A faint hiss erupts from the pod and scares the shit out of me. I jump away from it as the hiss intensifies. Several jets of steam spurt from its base. The screen bursts to life and streams with data, faster than I can read.

  I'm ashamed to admit it takes me longer than it should for me to understand what's happening and even longer to realise I am butt naked. I run to the shelter and put on what's left of my clothes, brush them down in a frantic attempt to try to make myself presentable. It's hopeless though. I look like total shit and stink of sweat.

  Welcome to the future.

  The pod is still hissing and jetting steam when I return. I edge up to it, cautious of the jets of steam that erupt every now and again. The lid eases free of its seal with a soft release of pressure and lifts just enough to let air in. I wait. When I woke up the lid was wide open. Though I am tested to push the lid open, I hold firm. I'm not going to do anything to make this go wrong. Not this time.

  It's a long wait. The screen continues to stream data. The sun makes its lazy dip back to the horizon, and the sky turns a deeper blue. Clouds gather. The world turns grey. A distant rumble of thunder warns of what's to come. The wind picks up and even as the shelter wobbles in the gusts, I stay where I am, patient, a promise. This time someone won't wake up alone. I'm here. I'll make it right.

  The rain starts, hard and sharp. I'm used to being rained on. It's a good way to get clean, but it's going to be a rude awakening for this world's newest resident straight out of Alpha VII. A deafening clap of thunder explodes over what's left of Alpha VII. In the distance, twin strikes of lightning slash into a distant strut. When I look back at the pod, the lid is open, rain pelting its passenger who lies still as death.

  I move closer. Rain sleets into my eyes. I can't tell if it's a man or a woman yet, but it's definitely an adult, not a child, thank god. The rain continues to pound down, but they remain motionless. I ease up to the pod's side, divided into equal parts of hope they are asleep and fear they are dead. I have no idea how long I slept with the pod's lid open before I woke. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

  The rain slants sideways, falls in blinding sheets until the pod's passenger is marinating in a pool of water. I can't see fuck all so I reach in to haul them out and half carry, half drag them to the shelter as best as I can manage under the healthy weight of someone fed on the food of another world.

  Inside the shelter I ease them to the ground. They're wearing a different kind of jumpsuit to the one I wore and theirs has a fitted head covering with openings for their nostrils and mouth. This much I can tell from the shape of them: they're female.

  I check for a pulse through the material of her head covering. It's there, slow and quiet, but definitely there. I'm a little afraid to take the head covering off, like somehow I am violating her, but I'm not sure if she even knows she's wearing it. Maybe it was put on her after she was put under. I decide to do it, to see who has travelled all this way to end up here, in this place with me, so I can prepare myself to greet her. I'm nervous, worse than nervous, feel sick as I unfasten the material from the neck of the jumpsuit. For a beat I hold off, because this is it. This is where it all ends and begins again. I pull the covering off just as she stirs and opens her eyes.

  She looks right at me, unseeing, unaware it's me. I can't speak. I can't even think. It's beyond what I can understand.

  'Hello?' she calls, soft, so soft it breaks my heart.

  I don't know what to do, what to say. It's her. It can't be her. But it's her.

  'Where am I?' she asks, a tremor of fear touches her words, which shames me, but I am with a woman I believed was dead. Was told was dead.

  'Please,' she continues in the voice I never thought I'd hear again, 'I can't see. I am blind.'

  'You are here, with me,' I say, my heart aching as she recognises my voice, as her blinded eyes well with tears, 'ten thousand years in the future.'

  She lifts her hand, searches for me. 'You're alive.'

  I nod, then remember she can't see me. I catch her hand, and press my lips against her fingertips. She closes her eyes and exhales, a trembling thing.

  'I thought I had lost your forever.'

  'And I believed you were dead.'

  Her eyes open and she looks right at me. It's unsettling, to at once be both seen and unseen. I wonder how she went blind, but will leave it to her to tell me. I look her over, she is a little thinner than I remember. I can't believe she's here, alive, right in front of me in this fucking place. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes. I watch her, rapt, and wait for the dissonance to fade, to accept she's here, and mine again, my beautiful, perfect Adiana.

  'I did die,' she says, so low I have to strain to hear her over the slash of rain against the shelter.

  I wait. For a beat I am terrified she is like Ryan, an eternal machine underneath her flesh, then I realise if she was, she could see.

  'But they brought you back?'

  She nods. 'My father blamed you for what I did. He wouldn't listen, especially after it cost me my sight. He said it would be for the best. A fresh start in a new world, without you.'

  I say nothing. I wonder how her father managed to secure a pod for Adiana so early in the game, then another memory comes to me, of the Prime Minister mentioning it had been four years since Adiana had died. At the time I didn't flag it—caught up in his plan to bury me in G-II for one thousand years against my will—that he would even kn
ow about Adiana, or how long I had believed she was dead, but now it's clear. He knew. He was giving me another chance—and I wanted to kill him.

  I still have her fingertips against my lips. She touches the matted mess of my beard. A look of confusion passes over her smooth features. She's still the same as I remember her from our dinner at Le Circle, and I am sure she thinks I will be the same, too. While she has slept I have aged more than six years since the day I murdered a million innocent people and she took her overdose. She's still forty, but I am forty-eight.

  I decide not to tell her how it all turned out. That everything is gone and we're back to the Stone Age, living in a shelter in the crater of what was once the most advanced city in the world. There will be time for that later. Right now all that matters is she is here, and so am I. We'll figure out the rest. We will have our children. We will have the life we were denied by the system that decided our fate. I am resourceful. I can make this work.

  I pull her up to me as another flare of lightning sears a path light through the grey mist of the downpour. Beneath us, the hard-packed earth softens, turns to mud.

  'Where are we?' she asks again as she settles into the circle of my embrace, both of us drenched. She shivers, and I tighten my hold on her. I need time to process how fast my life has changed, that the woman I mourned and believed dead for years is alive and here, now, in my arms and with me in this place.

  As she explores my raggedness with the fingers that have become her eyes, I fall back into the habits that keep me sane: I make plans. Create order. I will take her to the lake. We will swim. And then we will go south, to the coast. We will build a home of stone. We will start again. We will be the first of a new race of humanity. And I will do what I always wanted to do—make the world a better place.

  'Where we can be together,' I answer.

  And then I kiss her, and we do not stop for a long time.