*
The kitchen was a rather simple affair, with only a rudimentary stove and a hand-crafted table being worth description. Kingston was bent over the stove, a ladle in one hand and a knife in the other. Noticing Barsch’s entrance, he turned and gave the youth a broad smile, before exclaiming, “Hunger got the best of you, eh? Not to worry, breakfast will be ready in a bit”
Once again, Barsch’s rumbling stomach answered for him, which only served to widen Kingston’s smile. He gestured to the table, where a solitary chair stood. Taking the cue, Barsch sat and a moment later, Kingston laid a bowl of vegetable soup before him.
“Butternut soup, my personal favourite!” he exclaimed, handing Barsch a wooden spoon.
“We thank the gods for this generous gift,” said Barsch, using a rather old-fashioned thanksgiving prayer.
Kingston’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but all he said was, “Rare to see such a well-mannered young lad these days.”
“I’ll bet,” replied Barsch, letting out a soft chuckle. Raising the soup-laden spoon to his lips, Barsch braced himself for the taste. Even if it was not to his liking, he refused to show distaste in front of his generous host. To his surprise, and delight, the meal was delicious, and he eagerly scooped up the rest in a matter of seconds. Without saying a word, Kingston took the bowl and refilled it. Twice more this happened, until Barsch could not eat another bite.
“That’s what I like to see, a young man with a healthy appetite!” Kingston announced with a loud chuckle. Barsch was leaning back in a rather contented manner when he spotted a second bowl by the stove. Up until that point, Barsch had been successful in keeping the violet-eyed girl out of his mind, but the sight of the still-full bowl brought it all back: the surreal encounter in the glade, her otherworldly appearance, and the terrifying dream she had caused.
Kingston too, had noticed his gaze, and said, “Now, m’boy, I think it’s time we got to the matter at hand... Who is that girl I found beside you?”
For a second, Barsch thought about lying, and saying that she was like him, but one look in Kingston’s piercing green eyes stopped him. “I… I don’t know who she is… I met her in that glade, and she fainted just after I called out to her.”
“I see,” said Kingston, sounding somewhat relieved, “Well, she certainly is unique, I’ll give you that.”
“How is she?”
“Sleeping like a log… a ghostly, white haired log…” replied Kingston, looking suddenly uncomfortable.
“I have to tell you, boy, I ain’t ever seen anything like her before, and trust me, I’ve seen almost everything there is to see. Ever since I brought her here, it’s been… weird.”
“In what way?” asked Barsch, curious.
“It’s hard to explain. It’s like… well, have you ever been in a sterilization chamber?”
“Once, when I was little. I can still remember it clearly though, the humming air filters, and the decontamination showers. It was awful.”
“Exactly! It’s as if she’s gone and sterilized the whole cottage! Even the termites have vanished, and they were here before I was!”
“You make it sound like she’s some kind of lab experiment. She’s a… human, just like us, right?” asked Barsch, not sure if he wanted to know either way.
Kingston, still standing by the stove, took a moment to answer. When he eventually did, it was with a hesitant tone. “Yes… I believe so, but I still can’t shake the feeling that she might be something… more…”
Rising, Barsch thought about how he should defend the girl’s humanity, but stopped when he realised he couldn’t. Before the Great Sleep, there had been those who had sought to alter their features through genetic manipulation, but that had been mostly cosmetic in purpose, and rarely worked perfectly. Growing up, he had heard horror stories of people who had gambled with their genes and lost, ending up with disfiguring abnormalities or worse. In response, the government had implemented the Derickson Act, which outlawed any and all forms of genetic experimentation, thereby bringing an end to the stories.
Following on from this trail of thought, Barsch began thinking about genetics, and how the rampant pollution had produced some rather startling genetic abominations. Entire species had been decimated, and those that had survived had been… changed, as their evolution was kicked into hyperdrive in order to adapt to the new world. Looking at Kingston tidying up, a random thought entered Barsch’s head. One that he would later chide himself for not thinking of sooner.
“Kingston, I have a question…”
Without turning, the old hermit replied, “Ask away, m’boy.”
“How have you managed to survive all these years? I mean, twenty years ago, the pollution was so bad that you couldn’t go anywhere without a gas mask, so how come you’re able to live here without any side-effects?”
Kingston said nothing for several long seconds, as he industriously cleaned the utensils he had used. Eventually, when every pan and piece of cutlery sparkled, he turned.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that there were absolutely no side-effects… You see, you can’t really trust everything the government says. Out here, I discovered that it is possible to live in the pollution, but it takes a whole lot of luck, and just the right kind of approach. I grew up in a time when the pollution wasn’t nearly as bad as it is today, and as I grew, my body gradually got used to its effects. Of course, it isn’t as easy as that. I have a very… unique… genetic structure that made it easier for my body to adapt to the pollution. Without it, I would have suffered the same fate as any other.”
From what little Barsch knew of the long-term effects of pollution, Kingston’s story seemed to check out, but there was still something that he wasn’t telling, something important.
“But, Kingston, every living human was audited and sent to the Stations; so why are you here, in a cottage all by yourself?”
Had he gone too far? The thought suddenly entered Barsch’s mind, bringing with it the associated guilt and remorse. Here he was, questioning the very man responsible for saving his life. Kingston’s smile had disappeared when he heard the question, further reinforcing the notion that Barsch had overstepped his boundaries.
With a heavy sigh, the aged hermit spoke, “Well, it’s rather a long story, and one that I haven’t had to tell in decades. Before the Great Sleep, when people still thought that the pollution could be stopped, I was somewhat important in my field. However, I had some ideas that didn’t exactly… click, with what my superiors believed. At first, they tried to change my mind, but when I continued to speak out, they publicly denounced me, and my work. As long as they lived, I would never again be able to get a job or be heard by the community.”
As he spoke, Kingston walked over to a nearby window, his face hidden. His voice grew softer as he said, “So I left it all behind me, and entered a self-imposed exile. And just as I forgot about them, it seems that they forgot about me too. So when my name came up on the census, I guess they just assumed that I had died; so they crossed my name of the list, and no one ever came to bother me again. That was nearly seventeen years before the Great Sleep began, and I have been living here ever since.”
“I’m sorry… I didn’t know…” said Barsch meekly, wishing he could go back in time and stop himself from asking his hurtful question.
“It’s okay, m’boy, no harm done. In fact, I’m actually a little bit glad that I stayed true to my beliefs. If I hadn’t… If I had been like everyone else and gone along with their plan, then I would be frozen right now, and you would still be lying in that glade. I guess fate is tricky like that. You think everything is just a random string of coincidences, until you look back one day and see the path you have taken, and wonder if there was truly any other way things could have played out...”
Barsch could sense that the old hermit no longer wished to talk about the past, so he instead asked, “Do you think I could see… her? I want to make sure she’s alright…”
And just like that, the smile on Kingston’s face returned. Placing a firm hand on Barsch’s shoulder, he led the youth back down the passage, before stopping at one of the closed doors. Raising a hand, Kingston almost knocked on the door, before stopping himself. Chuckling, he instead placed his palm on the doorknob, turning it gently. It swung open soundlessly, and the hermit entered without hesitation.
Taking a deep breath, Barsch followed him, crossing the foreboding threshold.
Awakening Page 10