The Killing Jar

by RS McCoy

  Mable’s hand reflexively covered the worn cloth bag where it sat on her bed. “We’re going to the Aon Center, we leave at nightfall, and no, we’ll get you your own bag.”

  “Oh my god! I have so much to do! What am I going to wear? How long do I have?”

  Mable erupted into more laughs at the excited girl who darted across the room and collected items for her first excursion into the light in over a year.

  For Mable, it was a much-needed escape. Pulled between Katherine and Rowen with no solution in sight, she was ready for another break from the Root.

  At the moment, Mable only needed to focus on Hadley, getting into the Aon Center and retrieving the neon-filled diode without getting caught.

  She’d figure out the rest when she got back.

  ABRAHAM

  LUNA COLONY

  AUGUST 7, 2232

  Blinding sun shone through the transparent greenhouse panels, a little too bright for comfort, but that’s what the plants needed. That was his job now, taking care of others.

  Abraham only hoped he could be good at it.

  He squeezed the trigger of the spray bottle and spritzed the row of herbs.

  “The berries are coming in nicely.” Charlene’s delicate hands traced over the bright red fruits as if she treasured them. “We couldn’t get any to grow for the last three seasons.”

  Abraham nodded and realized the sprayer was still as his colony partner admired his work. Instead of responding, he continued applying a light mist to the blueberries before moving on to the grape vines.

  Charlene dipped about the greenhouse, running her hands over each leaf and stem, a deep green jumpsuit clinging to her curves as she moved.

  Abraham tried to concentrate on the plants, the food they would need over the next few months, the mouths they would feed with his work.

  “You really like all these plants, don’t you?” Charlene’s palm smoothed over a ruffled corn leaf before she headed toward him.

  “Yes,” he admitted without pausing his misting motion.

  “You don’t really talk much, do you?” This time, Charlene settled herself between Abraham and the box that held the grape vines.

  Her body was warm in the cool air. Her hair smelled sweeter than the fruits.

  Abraham swallowed hard and lowered the sprayer. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so close to another person. Then again, he couldn’t recall most of his life.

  “Don’t have much to say I guess.” Abraham had nothing, no memories, no experiences to share.

  Charlene’s bright eyes dimmed as she put on a decided frown and crossed her arms.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked after her expression.

  “I just—I thought you’d warm up someday.” She darted away, her arms still crossed as she moved to the greenhouse door.

  In an instant, she rotated back around, her hands animated as she shouted her frustrations. “There’s just the two of us. No one else will come for at least year, maybe longer, maybe forever. We’re the only adults with a dozen kids, and you won’t talk to me!”

  When he only marveled at her display, she flapped her hands against her thighs and grunted in annoyance. “Seriously? You have nothing to say to me? You can’t tell me even one thing about yourself?”

  It was the same question he’d struggled over since arriving on the colony two months before. He was in his late twenties. He had light blonde hair and was taller than anyone he’d met since—since he could remember anything. He was good with his hands, good with plants. He liked to look out the wide windows, soaking in the view the distant sun and the crimson soil that spread out in every direction. Abraham knew what he was now.

  But that was all.

  Everything Abraham knew about himself, he had learned in the last two months. He remembered arriving to the modest landing unit, the first time he saw the metal and plastic facility on the moon’s surface, the first time he met Charlene. He remembered the shuttle, departing a crowded station in Miami with a small child in tow, the last child for their meager moon colony, the one Charlene called Luna.

  But before that, nothing. Nothing he could recall. Nothing he could share. Nothing she wanted to hear.

  As much as she frowned and stomped, slamming the greenhouse door as she returned to the napping children, Abraham knew it was him that was most disappointed.

  He’d lost twenty-seven years, after all.

  In the silence of the greenhouse, only his sprayer and his projects kept him company. Composted soil to be spread amongst the plant boxes. A leak in the irrigation system to be repaired. Lastly, a few baskets of tomatoes, lettuce, and beans to be collected and added to their stores.

  Two hours of quiet, left to his thoughts, his questions.

  Abraham returned to the kitchen and started on the meal they would eat for dinner, and some preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch—something Charlene could prepare without his assistance. He used the scale to measure the appropriate quantity of potatoes to feed the group. They’d each get enough to support them nutritionally without wasting their resources. He was completely responsible for the longevity of their colony.

  It was a lot of pressure and even more work, but Abraham enjoyed his time in the kitchen. His hands knew what to do. He enjoyed the flavors and smells of his work. They were new to him each time. And he liked providing for the children and Charlene. He liked being dependable for them.

  At dinner, Charlene was bubbly with the children as always, as if he hadn’t disappointed her hours before. As if he wouldn’t continue disappointing her.

  “Can I have more pasta, please, Charlie?” Ellicot held up his scraped-clean plate. At five, he was oldest boy in the colony, but a head shorter than some of the girls.

  “Charlie, if people come from Earth and not the moon, how did we get on the moon?” asked Renner.

  “We took shuttles, big metal shuttles from Earth that flew through space!” Alana, the oldest child in their group, was excited to know the answer. She was one of the few that could remember arriving at Luna.

  Renner, the four-year old with deep olive skin and hazel eyes squealed, “I wanna go on a shuttle!” The entire group laughed.

  Dinner was by far the best part of Abraham’s day. Surrounded by small voices with big personalities, he had the rare opportunity to feel the fullness of his life, rather than the emptiness.

  “Let’s make sure to thank Abraham for making our dinner,” Charlene said as she rounded the table and offered up heaping spoonfuls to those that wanted more.

  “Thank you, Abraham,” they recited, a monotonous drone compared to their earlier excitement.

  If he had to guess, he would think they were scared of him. He just didn’t know why.

  “Tank you, Aba-ham.” The voice next to him belonged to Kellan, an incredibly bright two-year old with sweet blonde curls. As fate would have it, Kellan was his oldest friend in this new life, the child he escorted from Earth.

  “You’re welcome,” Abraham responded, more than a little impressed such a young child could have already mastered a concept like manners. Then again, Charlene was fantastic with the children.

  “I tried a new way of cooking the zucchini. Do you like it?” Abraham didn’t know how much experience he had with the culinary arts, but he enjoyed keeping his hands busy and his mind off his missing past.

  Kellan only smiled through his food, oil glistening on his lips and cheeks.

  Abraham laughed at the adorable boy and wondered for the thousandth time how such wonderful kids could end up in a prototype moon colony, the first of its kind.

  Abraham accepted he had clearly done something horrible to deserve such a fate, something worthy of forgetting altogether, but surely young children could have done nothing to deserve this exile. It didn’t seem fair.

  “Eat up, Kellan,” Charlene told him with a hand through his tousled curls. “Story time in thirty.”

  There
was no doubt Charlene’s rigorous schedule was responsible for the peacefulness of their artificial home, each child knowing the plan for the day. It was a system that worked.

  Except for Abraham. He could grow food, fix problems, and maintain the compound, but he was poor company for her. One more thing to figure out.

  A violent cough emerged from Alana, their oldest charge, a dark-skinned girl with a knack for reading. Charlene was beside her in an instant, a calming hand on the girl’s back. Abraham didn’t miss Charlene’s intense gaze as she led Alana to the girls’ room to change to bed clothes for story time.

  By the time he finished cleaning the stark metal area that sufficed as their kitchen, the dozen kids were seated on a bright area of carpet listening to Charlene reading from her tablet, Kellan seated on her lap.

  Abraham took his usual seat against the back wall, though this time someone had placed a pillow in the spot. He slid down, thankful for the soft fabric between his back and the metal. He reminded himself to thank Charlene.

  Only a few pages later, Kellan peeled himself from Charlene’s slender legs, navigated the carpet of enraptured children, and plopped into Abraham’s lap.

  While he knew it was wrong, Abraham liked Kellan best. Ellicot was bright in math and Calla was helpful with chores around the colony, but Kellan seemed to understand Abraham in a way no one else could.

  Kellan, too, had a quiet way.

  Charlene’s easy cadence captivated her unlikely audience, children from vastly different backgrounds and cultures clad in matching royal blue jumpsuits.

  More than a few kids groaned at the end of their reading time but nonetheless pushed off toward their beds.

  It was then Abraham realized Kellan had fallen asleep against his arm, tiny shoulders moving in the easy rhythm of sleep.

  Charlene helped motivate the stragglers as she made her way over. “I think he likes you,” she said as she reached for the toddler.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got him.” With a near absence of grace, Abraham managed to get to standing without waking the boy. Supported by only his arms, the boy looked tiny, such a little thing.

  It hurt his heart to know the boy would live his life in their lunar compound, never knowing of the world beyond, all for the sake of science, though Abraham didn’t know what they hoped to learn. He only knew it was a terrible tragedy, that each child was like him—a prisoner in space with no idea of the life they’d never know.

  Then again, maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better to never know what else the universe could offer them.

  Maybe someone robbed him of his life to save him from that.

  Abraham lowered the sleeping toddler into his bed in the boys’ room and covered him with a thin blanket up to his chin. He admired him one last time before he moved on to the older boys, getting them into bed and pulling up their blankets. Sander and Berk were already asleep by the time he got to them.

  “Good night, sleep tight, see you when the sun is bright.”

  “Good night,” replied Ellicot, his voice already relaxing.

  Last, he turned out the lights and closed the door, filling the corridor with evening quiet.

  On the far side, Charlene walked from the girls’ room back toward the kitchen, though she stopped to wait for him.

  “Why do you always say that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. What are you supposed to say?” Abraham worried that had unknowingly violated some aspect of her routine.

  Charlene pursed her lips and stomped down the corridor. “I was just curious. I should have known you wouldn’t tell me,” she huffed as she trailed away.

  Abraham sighed. This was going to be a long rest of his life.

  THEO

  LANCASTER CENTRAL HALL, LANCASTER, NORTH AMERICA

  AUGUST 7, 2232

  Theo stood his place in the single-file, alpha-order line awaiting the announcement. Of the seventy eight Youths who would become full citizens today, only fourteen would select Scholar. Still, it was higher than the national average.

  “Ready?” Allen Lefruene asked from behind.

  “Yeah,” Theo lied. Now that he’d done it, slid the card into the slot and sealed his fate, he couldn’t help but feel he’d made a terrible mistake.

  “Folks here?” Allen continued, oblivious.

  “Yeah, probably.” In the spiraling tower above, Theo had no doubt Howard and Cheryl sat in a room of their peers watching the ceremony on their tablets. The final Kaufman to become a prominent Scholar. It would be a proud moment for them.

  But not for Theo.

  He fought the urge to run back to the Selection room and find his card, change his future. When he looked back toward the curtains, he saw Nate.

  Near the end of the line, he didn’t look near as bad as Theo feared. His eyes were down, but the sadness had left them. Nate had accepted his fate.

  Maybe he’d had a last conversation with Casey, at least enough to get some closure. Or maybe he’d made his peace with it.

  Theo would have to wait until after the ceremony to ask him. Before he could say a word, the microphones emitted the introductory music.

  Dean Norway began the speeches the same as always, though Theo had never heard them from backstage before. “Good afternoon and welcome to the Selection Ceremony for Youth Class 14925. Today, we are honored to have representatives from the three classes. The Northeast Sector Leader and Craftsman representative, Ms. Samara Russo. To her left, Artisan and local favorite Mr. Gage Vilchis. And, may I ask for a very warm welcome for the esteemed Vicereine of the Scholar Class, Dr. Indra Masry.”

  Theo choked and coughed as he heard her name. The Scholar Vicereine? Of course, he would have to select his class in front of the most powerful woman in the Scholar class, one of the three most powerful people outside the Global Council. Why couldn’t it be the Artisan Viceroy? Or the Craftsman Viceroy? Why did it have to be her?

  What had he done to deserve this?

  Like an overplayed song, the Dean continued his usual speech. “Our society is a great one. It thrives on our system of three classes, each an integral component of our success.

  “First, there are the Craftsmen, the foundation. They work hard in a variety of trades—culinary arts, carpentry, fabrication, and mechanics—each with particular focus in their area of talent.

  “Next, there are Scholars, ever-reaching for new technologies and knowledge. Our scientists, engineers, and geneticists. They work to ensure a long and prosperous future for our great society.”

  The words took on new meaning as Theo stood in line, garbed in the black robes, minutes from receiving the cords of his class.

  “And finally, there are the Artisans, tasked with preserving our culture, our identity. They are our designers and architects, painters and poets, and through them, we remember who we are as a great society.”

  Allen whispered, “I swear, if he says ‘great society’ one more time, I’ll throttle him.”

  It wasn’t enough to quiet the drumbeat in Theo’s ears.

  “It is fitting that in Lancaster, the historic home of the Amish people, that our Youths should experience such freedom. Much as the Amish adolescents intentionally moved away from their homes to experience all the world had to offer, the Youths of our great society were free to experience multiple fields and interests. After years of exploration, tasting a variety of disciplines and engaging in a wide range of courses here at Lancaster Central Hall, each Youth has chosen their class, the way they will contribute to our great society.”

  “Oh my god!” Allen huffed.

  “At this time, I will ask Ms. Jamila Adams to come forward. Ms. Adams has selected Craftsman.”

  Of course.

  A hearty cheer erupted from the audience several floors above.

  Theo had seen it before—but from his tablet on the upper floors—the Youths emerging from the curtains separating back and front of stage, the shaking of the Dean’s hand before the class representative placed
colored cords over their shoulders.

  “Mr. Peter Artemus, Craftsman.”

  After the fourth, the line lurched forward a step.

  And then came the first person Theo knew personally. “Mr. Casey De La Rosa, Artisan.”

  The cheers were dramatically reduced in volume, but no less enthusiastic. There were simply less Artisans. Theo’s eyes shot forwards as if he could see through the curtains, but no. He was forced to imagine the struggle on Casey’s features as he accepted the scarlet cords.

  When Theo looked back at Nate, his eyes were cast at the ground, refusing to look up.

  Theo’s heart snapped in two.

  “Ms. Nina Folsom, Craftsman.” On and on, the Dean called the names, Youth after Youth, as the line shortened, as they neared the stage.

  At last, Theo arrived in the space between the curtains. He could see the steps up to the stage, the middle-aged dean stood at the slender microphone, the class representatives in line beside him, each holding a handful of cords.

  One floor up, the viewing windows for the Youths that had already selected, and in the one to the right, he saw Casey.

  There was so much he wanted to say, to have a last few minutes with him, to apologize, to tell him how much Nate would miss him, how much Theo had enjoyed getting to know him and valued his friendship.

  But he wouldn’t get the chance.

  “Mr. Theodore Kaufman, Scholar.”

  At the sound of his name—and Selection—Theo climbed the trio of steps onto the stage. Dean Norway held out his hand and offered Theo an absent smile. Theo shook his hand and moved to the Vicereine and Scholar representative, Indra Masry to receive his royal-blue cords. Nothing like having the most powerful person in your social class participate in your Selection ceremony.

  It was done.

  Theo was a Scholar.

  The cords hung on his shoulders like weights. When he stood locked in place, Dr. Masry motioned to the far side of the stage where two escorts waited to take him to the Scholar viewing room.

  The pale walls and muted tiles were a blur, the stale corridor, the transparent elevator, the cheers from the audience all obscured in the wake of his Selection. He could only try to grasp why he felt so out of sorts, why his arms prickled and his stomach turned as if nervous. But it wasn’t nerves. This was something else, something worse.