Adaline

by Denise Kawaii

  The Boys mulled over the teacher's words for a few minutes in silence before nodding almost unanimously in agreement. 62, although unconscious during the strange event that led to 1125000's disappearance, was uneasy. If he could dream about Poa Pratensis and the tiny black Tapinoma Sessile, who could say what another Boy might be capable of? Maybe 1125000 was dreaming without knowing what dreams were, and they caused him to try to leave the rhythmic life of C.A.T. to find a place with no Machines. 62 raised his hand.

  71 ignored the raised hand from the back corner of the room, and instead tapped the screen of his tablet, beginning the series of tests that flashed brightly across the desks throughout the classroom. Each of the Boys began scrolling through the problems without further questions or comments. 62 kept his hand raised high above him, and when there was no response from 71 he tried to reach an inch or two higher just in case his teacher hadn't seen him.

  71 turned his chair around to face the wall. 62 lowered his hand to his lap as he watched his teacher's head nod to one side and then the other. 62 knew there was no point in trying to ask any more questions now; his teacher was already asleep.

  CHAPTER 12

  62 remained seated as the rest of the class gathered themselves up and shuffled out of the room. 71's back was turned to the class, and the top of his head lolled back and forth with each deep slumbering breath he took. 62 drew his finger across his tablet in silence, drawing an army of tiny Tapinoma Sessile marching across the screen in neat rows.

  When the last Boy exited the room, the door slid closed and the sound of the "click" of the lock roused 71 from his sleep. The Man stretched his arms above his head and groaned before turning his chair around to face the almost empty room.

  "62, I'm afraid I must inform you that this will be our last tutoring session."

  62's expression fell in disappointment as the Tapinoma Sessile faded from his tablet and the Man's words sank in. "Why?"

  "A Nurse will be here shortly to take you back to your cube. Unfortunately, the attempt of a young Man to exit the pods has made the Community decide to remove some of our more enjoyable liberties."

  "I don't understand. I thought you said that an escape was impossible?"

  "It is, and isn't." 71 got up from his chair and lumbered across the room, placing his ear upon the door and listening for a moment. "It's my understanding that the young lad did find a way to make it out of the pods, although he soon discovered that there was nowhere else to go. He's being disciplined now, and with any luck will return to his cube soon."

  The Man paused and cleared his throat in an attempt to hide a tendril of worry from his voice. "I was told this morning that the Boy is unwell, and the Community is working feverishly to ensure his illness doesn't spread."

  "Unwell?" 62 repeated the word that a Nurse had used to describe him before. He still didn't understand the word's meaning. Before he could ask any further questions, the door of the classroom slid open and a Nurse appeared in the doorway.

  "This concludes your tutoring in Coolant Systems and Defense Mechanics. Please return to your regularly scheduled activities." The Nurse held its hand out towards 62 in a tender and reassuring motion, although the pale blue shimmer of its eyes betrayed a lack of sentiment.

  As 62 got up from his chair the old teacher moved to stand beside him. Resting his hand across the nape of his neck, 71 walked him toward the open door and the falsely patient Machine.

  "Yes, this does end our tutoring for now, but I am sure this will not be the end of your studies. I will continue to see you here in class. Your basic tests are almost complete and we will begin discussions about placement and duty to the Community soon. Make sure that you pay attention, both in and out of class. There is much to learn so keep your eyes open. Or, shut. Whichever you find to be the most helpful."

  71's hand released the Boy's neck and the teacher nodded at the Machine. "Thank you, Nurse."

  The Machine grabbed 62 by the arm and firmly guided him down the tunnel toward the pods. 62 craned his neck in an attempt to catch one last glimpse of his teacher, the motion of which caused him to fall against the Nurse as it militantly ushered him forward. As he stumbled, 62 saw his teacher turn on his heel and jog in the opposite direction to whatever place he belonged.

  "Where do Men live?" 62 asked absently.

  "All Boys and Men survive as a part of the Community. The Men live where they are assigned, sorted by career and animation date."

  62 had been talking aloud to himself, and the sound of the Machine's response startled him, causing him to stumble again and fall against the Nurse's mechanical arm. The Boy looked up at the Nurse and rephrased his question. "Where are the teacher's pods?"

  The Nurse ignored 62's gaze and seemed to quicken its pace. "The information you are asking for is unnecessary given your current training level. Please, continue to your cube."

  "How long will it be until I am at a training level that an answer would be necessary?" 62's short legs made it difficult to keep up with the adult-sized Nurse, and his breath quickened with the effort.

  "In approximately 1,374 cycles." The unblinking eyes of the Nurse seemed to dull slightly when they exited the tunnel and entered the bright lights of the Dressing Hall.

  "Is there a way for me... to accelerate my learning... aside from tutoring?" 62's breaths were irregular from the brisk pace and it was hard for him to get the question out.

  "Acceleration of learning is unnecessary. Please, continue to your cube."

  "But how... did.. 112..5000... learn to... open doors?" 62 struggled to get the words out against the burning in his chest.

  "There is no data to support the idea that Boy 125000 acquired training for manual door operation. Acceleration of learning is unnecessary."

  62 and his escort approached his pod. 62 bent over at the waist and panted as he tried to catch his breath. The Nurse touched the data port beside the door and its eyes flashed as it passed instructions to the Community network.

  "Is 1125000 unwell?"

  "There is no data available regarding the health of 1125000. We have arrived at your cube. Please enter and rest."

  62 did as he was told, and walked through the open cube door. It slid closed and locked immediately behind him, and the Boy rushed to look through the screen opening before the Nurse departed. "Will he come back to the pod?"

  "No." The Nurse's bright eyes flashed with the finality of the statement, and then it turned and wheeled itself away and out of sight.

  CHAPTER 13

  62 struggled to sleep, turning over again and again as he tried to get comfortable under his thin blanket. He couldn't stop thinking about all that had happened in one short cycle. 1125000's disappearance, the loss of his tutoring lessons, and the odd conversation with the Nurse spun in circles around his mind. He didn't understand any of what was happening, and as sleep attempted to overtake him fragments of the events flashed behind his eyelids.

  Once he did sleep his dreams were wrought with sporadic images of open doors, the bright flashing eyes of hundreds of Nurses, and the sounds of his brother suffering torturous discipline. In his mind 62 ran away from the Nurses in a panic through unlit tunnels and tumbled into endless pits of darkness. Again the scenes filled his mind; causing him to run faster, to stumble over more unseen hazards and to lose his sense of direction. Each time the dream renewed he told himself that he could gain control and steer his thoughts the way 71 was able to. Each time he found himself powerless against the decided repetition of his subconscious.

  After the dream replayed for the fifth time, 62 noticed a light at the end of one of the tunnels that he hadn't seen before. He ran toward the glowing sphere with arms flailing wildly and hands grasping at the air in front of him. The floor tilted beneath his feet and suddenly he was falling toward the light. The sphere of radiance grew larger and more intense until he was enveloped in its warm glow. He closed his eyes against the brightness, and when he opened them again he found himself in a shadowy vers
ion of the classroom.

  Everything appeared as it would normally, save the prickling of the Poa Pratensis against the bare skin of his feet. He turned toward the front of the class, and found the familiar visage of his teacher sitting at his desk. Instead of a hover chair, the Man sat in what 62 could only describe as a plume of steam frozen in time.

  "Welcome, 62. I trust you don't mind this interruption to your rather unsettling dream."

  62 approached his teacher and reached out hesitantly to touch the grey-white mass that 71 reclined so easily into. He anticipated the familiar feeling of hot, wet and burning steam like he had felt when standing too close to the vents in the Dressing Hall. Although the material did certainly feel wet against his outstretched hand, it was cool to the touch and seemed to flow slowly across his skin.

  "Ah yes, ingenious, isn't it? I discovered these Stratocumulus Cumulogenitus only recently. They are quite delicate and delightful, don't you think?" 71 shifted in his seat, and the entire mass of flowing particles moved to accommodate his new position.

  "I'm glad to see you." 62 was distracted as he spoke, his gaze transfixed with the Stratocumulus Cumulogenitus chair as it collected and dissipated itself all at once.

  "And I, you. Here, allow me." 71 closed his eyes and folded his hands neatly in his lap. The walls of the classroom began to retreat into the distance until they could no longer be seen. All that was left was the large blue endless ceiling that covered them during their last encounter, an infinite expanse of Poa Pratensis and a second Stratocumulus Cumulogenitus chair. The teacher nodded toward the empty seat, and 62 lowered himself gently into it, amazed that the delicate particles seemed to stay just tensile enough to keep him aloft.

  "Much has happened in the last cycle, and I am not quite sure what the Community will do about it this time."

  62 forced his gaze away from the shape-shifting chairs and glanced up at his teacher, confusion written on his face. "This time? What do you mean by that?"

  The teacher leaned back in his chair, the soft mass beneath him moving as he reclined. "Well, it's never been quite like this before. Similar, but not exactly the same, I suppose. When I mentioned that 00 was unwell, I meant it in an unconventional sense. He doesn't have a cough and his stomach does not ache. I fear that he may have gone mad. Brilliantly mad."

  The student did his best to follow what his elder was saying, but felt that the old Man spoke in riddles. "What does that mean?"

  71 waved his hand in the air lazily, "You know, mad. Insane. Mentally unstable."

  "Unstable? I really don't understand." The cool mist of the Stratocumulus Cumulogenitus brushed the tiny hairs on the back of his neck as he shook his head. It tickled and 62 struggled to not burst out in laughter.

  "Oh, there is a name for it, the condition. It escapes me at the moment, claustro-something." The Man lifted his head slightly and opened his eyes just wide enough to view the Boy. "A fear of space, or lack thereof. A very interesting issue, to be sure."

  62 tried to grasp what 71 was telling him. He waited for the teacher to expand on the explanation, but when the Man simply laid his head back down to rest on the swirling Cumulogenitus he asked again, "What do you mean?"

  71 sat up, visibly irritated that his moment of relaxation was being interrupted by incessant questioning. He closed his eyes again briefly, and a desk with an oddly shaped tablet appeared in front of him. The old Man's delicate fingers touched the edges of the object, and then he opened the top of it like a door to a miniature room.

  62 leaned forward and read the words Adaline Medical Dictionary, Fifth Edition printed upon the thin screen.

  "Have you seen one of these yet? They're amazing, really. No electrical or network connection needed whatsoever. Some of the data is a bit strange, but I suppose anyone looking at something off the Community network shouldn't expect anything less than strange." 71 licked his finger, placed it upon the screen and pushed it to the left. The screen curled and he turned it over. Words appeared on the back side of the thin screen as well, and on the screen after that. All of the text seemed to be fixed for some reason, and rather than just swiping his hand across the dull surfaces the teacher continued to flip through them one at a time.

  71 looked up and explained, "They call it a book. I've never seen anything like it outside of dreams, and wouldn't know how to go about making one. If only the Community knew I had tried! This text and image is affixed to these sheets called pages. Ingenious! The only material I've found to bend like this is the foil that our tablets come wrapped in when they've been out for repair, and I haven't found a way to get words to appear flat and seamless on it."

  The Man continued talking about the wonders of books, and the follies he had experienced in trying to manufacture one of his own. He continued turning pages as he spoke, occasionally pausing to read a passage that seemed familiar or helpful. After a few moments, the pages stopped turning and the Man pointed down at a paragraph.

  "Here's what I was looking for. 'Claustrophobia n. an unwavering fear of enclosed places. Compare agoraphobia. See also phobia.' Shall we look that up too?" Without waiting for a response from 62, the Man hurried through the pages of the book once again. "Phobia n. a pathologically strong fear of an event or thing. Avoiding the feared situation may severely restrict one's life and cause much suffering. There's more here, but I think that paints an interesting picture."

  62 sat in silence as the teacher read from the page, thinking about 00 and how terrible he must have felt for him being confined in his cube. He was glad that he'd never experienced anything like that; although the cube was far less comfortable than the soft warmth of the Nursery, it by no means made him feel the need to leave.

  "Strange, isn't it? That one Boy out of so many could be affected that way? Well, I imagine that's why the Community has decided to not allow him to return. Well, that and the whole door situation."

  62 gasped, "So it is true? He opened the doors to his cube and the pods?"

  71 tried to look stern and serious, but a smile crept along the corners of his mouth. "It appears so. Although I can't work out how he did it. I've studied coding extensively and there is no way that I or any of my peers could have done such a thing. Changing the code of those doors to open is a much different thing than running a system scan and repair."

  The two figures sat in silence for a long time, each lost in wonderment of what their brother had done. The table between them slowly faded as their focus drifted away from it, and the Poa Pratensis seemed to lengthen beneath their feet.

  "But where was he going?" 62 asked aloud as he thought of the many corridors within C.A.T.

  "That is one more mystery I have not been able to figure out. I have a theory, but it's far too dangerous to share. Regardless of where he thought he was going, the only place to go beyond C.A.T. is into the Community, and there's no way to survive outside without help. If a person doesn't have an assigned place in Adaline, they don't have access to meals to eat, liquid to drink, or any of the other services necessary to live."

  No sooner had 71 completed his statement, than both dreamers heard the familiar hum of breakfast rolling through tubes outside of their consciousnesses. The edges of the horizon began to darken, and black spots slowly spread across the landscape like the thick sleep-fog the Nurses dispensed.

  "Maybe one of the other Boys will know something about where he was going?" 62 looked nervously at the darkness as it approached.

  "Perhaps. Keep your ears open, and your eyes too if you can manage it." The teacher winked at his student. "I shall see you in class shortly."

  The rest of the dream dissolved around the Man and Boy just as the breakfast pills fell through the chute into 62's cube.

  CHAPTER 14

  Time in the classroom passed slowly while 62 poked his finger at a series of random shapes flashing on his tablet. His mind was rarely focused on the tablet in front of him, but now his thoughts were particularly difficult to reign in.

  So much had
happened; was happening, and the bulk of it appeared to go unnoticed by the rest of Boys in C.A.T. It amazed 62 that they had already seemed to forget the plight of 00. That morning, when the throng of Boys passed by 00's empty cube on the way to the dressing hall, none of them even glanced in the direction of the dark void of the powered down cube. Excited whispers that dispensed stories of 00's disappearance no longer filled the lines of Boys waiting their turn to shower. It was as if they had forgotten that their brother ever existed, or had already severed the emotion that bound them to him.

  Doubling 62's sense of anxiety was the knowledge that testing was coming to an end. The easy hours of guessing arbitrary answers to a stream of seemingly unconnected questions were to be replaced with instruction. 62 enjoyed his private talks with 71, but he wasn't looking forward to the long lectures that were sure to come.

  62 hoped that class instruction wouldn't be as boring as the training he had in the Nursery. It was difficult for any of the Boys to sit silently while they listened to Nannies repeat instructions on how to be good.

  "A good Boy does not run." A Nanny would say in its mechanical voice.

  Each Boy would remain very still, moving only to raise his hand high above his head until the entire room was filled with wavering fingers stretched toward the ceiling.

  "Boy 1123856. What must a good Boy not do?"

  56 would lower his hand and place it in his lap with its mate, then announce with clear pronunciation, "A good Boy does not run."