Daughters of the Mayflower Universe: One

by Celie Wells

  Diff and Payton were seated on the bench closest to me. Diff set his hand on my belt while Payton grabbed on to one of my arm clamps. I was in no danger of flying off the trolley.

  The staff wasn't too concerned with us fifth years they knew we were almost out the door and would be the problem of the finishing schools soon. If I were younger, the driver would have stopped in the middle of the trek and scolded me properly.

  It wasn't long before the power reserves in my suit reached useful levels. I pulled myself back inside and took a seat next to my classmates. The display panel on my arm showed seven missed messages, and three were from my mother.

  This life celebration has her in rare form. My mother is usually a calm and even-tempered, scientifically minded woman. Still, recently she's been prone to bouts of crying and screaming. My father claims it will pass, and my older sister agrees with him. I think Beryl is taking the entire life celebration a little too well.

  Our older brother Hess is due to arrive late this evening. He's traveling from the west elevator launch pad in old San Francisco. Traffic in the old town section is always awful, no telling what time he will arrive. Hess always had a way of calming our mother down. After his long trip down from the top of the space dock, I hope he is in good enough spirits to work his magic again.

  Tonight's video test assignment is to prepare a typical family meal and provide a report of the nutritional statistics and my portion choices for each diner. This test is one of many video tests I need to complete before formally declaring my chosen path. I requested an extension due to my family's life ceremony, but since the test and the ceremony are not on the same calendar day, my request was denied.

  Beryl offered to help me cook, so I guess the situation isn't entirely tragic. I planned to make bio-similar beef roast and white potatoes with onions and light brown gravy plus yogurt with freeze-dried fruit topping for dessert. I read a portion of the chapter that stated, 'a good domestic manager is always flexible with the obligations that cannot be avoided.' I assume this is why my request to postpone the test was denied.

  My father was waiting in the parking lot when the trolley arrived. He stood by his unsightly green utility truck talking to a tall boy in a shiny new day suit. I only recognized the boy was Jason by his slouched posture and the broad arm movements he makes when he speaks. I've wanted to see if tying his arms to his sides renders him mute, but I haven't found the opportunity yet.

  Jason is the grandson of one of my father's oldest colleagues and frequently spends his evenings with us while his grandfather works late at the lab.

  “Hey, there, Doodle, how was your day.” My father yelled out enthusiastically.

  “Oh no, please, not Doodle. How bad is she today?” I asked, scanning my father's face for some shred of hope for a peaceful evening.

  “Your Mother stayed home from work again. She plans to help your grandmother with some last-minute ceremony details. From my perspective, she's in a level six, maybe level seven bad mood.” My father's tone held an underlying apology. I dropped my head back and stared up at the bright sky.

  I looked at Jason and shook my head, “Sorry, the house might not be tranquil tonight.” Jason patted me on the metal shoulder panel of my suit and mouthed the words, no problem.

  His new day suit was matte black on slick slate gray and looked considerably more modern than mine. It was slimmer cut and seemed to move freely.

  “That's a nice suit, Ja,” I commented, noticing how antiquated my suit appeared next to his.

  “Thanks, needed a new one. I got an inch taller and the old one was making me slouch. The housekeeper claimed I was starting to walk creepy.” Jason put his arms over his head and staggered around in his best attempt to mimic a movie mummy. I couldn't help but laugh. He looked ridiculous.

  “Come on, guys.” My father shuffled us both into the vehicle and started driving home.

  “I'm sorry for your impending loss. I imagine your family is having a hard time dealing with the ceremony. I'll make myself useful. You have your final culinary test tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, they wouldn't postpone it for me,” I whined.

  “Don't worry. I did the same test last year. I'll help out. Since we are in the same major path, I think the testing rules allow me to assist in a minor capacity while you're being evaluated.”

  “It would be so great if you can help. I have no idea what they are even looking for.” I admitted. Jason is a year ahead of me, a sixth year, he always looks out for me.

  Jason is an Only, and the grandchild of a posthumous double pairing of original families. This unique situation makes him something of original family royalty for our little township. His grandfather was allowed to postpone his life ceremony due to the obligation of raising him alone. All that genetic theater also makes him way too smart for his own good, in my opinion.

  “Yep, here it is right on their website rulings. 'A participant must be of the same major path and agree to serve in a minor capacity to be present during video testing appointments,' gotta love the server highway.” Jason sounded pleased, and I felt less hopeless, knowing he would help me.

  The evening went about as horribly as I'd expected. The dinner prep was fine, but I forgot to include the nutritional facts for the butter and salt my family would add to their potatoes.

  Jason, always a people pleaser, provided an excellent buffer between my mother's mania and my sister's indifference over tomorrow night's life ceremony. We discussed everything, but the topic of my grandparents impending death.

  The current vote took up all our conversations. This week's issue, like every other week, was all about the Reds.

  As I understand it, the Reds choose to live outside the confines of prevailing laws, and nobody likes them because of it. My mother believes the Reds have the right to live as they please. Her position is in the minority. My father believes the Reds consume water at a higher rate than civilized citizens, so they should be removed. His opinion is in the majority. This vote is over the Pacific Canyon area and the efforts to remove the Reds from the old seabed.

  My father found his ballot card and situated himself in his favorite reclining chair. With his cold dessert and the remote close at hand, he was ready for action well before voting began. There was the usual precast debate on the government station and the equally annoying post-cast coverage on every other station.

  Beryl helped me heat and blast the dishes clean. Personally, I don't think the effort to cook at home is worth the mess. Almost anything you want for dinner can be delivered by a street vendor, and you skip the preparation mess altogether.

  “Beryl, do you think they will, you know, remove all the people from the Pacific Canyon? Where would they put them?” I tried to follow recent events even though I won't be allowed to vote until my birthday.

  “Don't ask questions you don't want answers to Booger,” Beryl boomed in a louder than necessary voice.

  “Don't call me that Red Beryl, you have red in your name you should be more sympathetic to your people,” I retorted with an unfortunate whine.

  “It's a precious gem you moron,” Beryl growled defensively.

  “It's a precious gem. It's a precious gem,” I mocked. “Whatever you say, Red.” Beryl sneered at me, dropped her gloves on the floor, and walked out of the kitchen.

  Jason stood close behind me. “I'm often saddened when I dwell on my situation as an only child and last heir of my family's name. Then I visit with you and Beryl, and I'm not sad anymore.” His breath moved my hair as he leaned in closer. “Not at all, not even a teeny, tiny bit.” Jason leaned over me, grabbed a piece of re-hydrated cheddar cheese, and popped it in his mouth.

  “Some days, it is difficult not to do terrible things to that smug...” I stopped myself, not wanting to receive another lecture from my father. “Yes, my sister is stubborn.”

  Jason picked up a stone dish and placed it in the sanitizer. “You know how to use the sanitizer?” I laughed, snorting a bit as I tended
to when I find myself exceptionally amusing. “I assumed your house crew did all the cleaning?”

  “Your smart mouth is chasing away all your kitchen help, Missy.” Jason stood close and stared deeply into my eyes. I could feel a small tingle of heat in the pit of my stomach.

  His eyes are a captivating mix of deep brown and subtle green patchwork stitched together with golden threads of light. I try not to stare at them, but they grab my full attention.

  “I suppose I'm being bitchy, but I can't believe they docked five points for butter and salt.” My eyes start to burn. I had more on my mind than the lost points, but I didn't want to think about anything else.

  Jason put his arm around my back and kissed the top of my head. “It is all going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, if you fail your test, I'll hack into the video testing office and give you a better grade. Booger.”

  “You and Beryl can both kiss my butt.” I tossed the bag of blasting media back under the sink causing the pipes to rattle.

  “I don't know. How much salt do you think is on that little butt? I would guess not much, but you may get docked another whole point.” Jason flicked a plastic rag at my hip. The material snapped with a crisp pop when it hit my pants pocket.

  “Ow! Damn it,” I complained. “There is something mentally wrong with you.” Jason snickered at me and rubbed my shoulders roughly.

  “Jason,” my father bellowed. “take your hands off my baby daughter and come help me with this damn ballot software.” My father sat at the edge of his recliner whacking the card reader on his palm. “I can't get this blasted machine to read my card.”

  “Yes, Sir, let me see what I can do to fix it for you.” Jason slipped his hands off my shoulders and popped another cheese cube in his mouth. “before you break it completely,” he muttered, before rushing over to help my father.

  I was almost done with the kitchen. After starting the sanitizer and wiping down the counters, I went looking for my dessert and noticed my mother's yogurt was still in the fridge next to mine. I took a few quiet steps into the hallway, trying to listen for any sounds of life.

  “Yes, I understand the cakes were ordered over a year ago. Still, I would like to change two of the cakes to chocolate cream. Well, can I add them as additional cakes? It is my father's favorite flavor. The extra cost is fine, yes.” My mother's voice grew louder and cracked. She was usually so calm and friendly with everybody.

  “Thank you for your help, Tom. I'm sure you have other orders for tomorrow, but I want my father to have a piece of his favorite chocolate cake before he dies.” She turned off her phone, grabbed a thick pillow from the bed, covered her face with it, and started screaming.

  I stood frozen, staring at her through the small sliver of space between the door and the wall. The muffled sounds of agony in her voice cemented me to the stone floor. The quick tap of Beryl's heeled boots came up behind me. I turned to look at her expecting to be ridiculed for eavesdropping. She put a finger to her mouth and coaxed me backward out of the hallway.

  “Don't let her know you saw her like this, Doodle. She isn't herself.” There were no words available for a snarky retort. I nodded in agreement and wiped the new tears from my face.

  “Go get ready for the lunar gathering. It will be sundown soon and Grandma and Grandpa will be here in an hour. There is going to be a rowdy crowd in the streets after tonight's vote.” Beryl wiped away a stray tear from my cheek with her polished peach thumb. Of the two of us, she looked the most like our mother. “We have company, best not to let him see you crying.”

  “What will they do with the Red's if the people's vote is for removal.” Beryl was not one to mince words. I knew I would get the truth from her. “Just tell me what you think will happen.” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.

  “The Reds will be vaporized with no frilly white cakes, no fancy parties. They will be reclaimed for their water and mulched for agricultural needs.” Beryl twirled her red-brown hair around her finger. She seemed uncomfortable, but I could tell she was trying to be completely honest.

  “There's no way to move them or ask them to go someplace else?” I asked.

  “The local government already moved them. This is where those people have been for multiple decades. Now somebody at the unified government thinks our population is using too much water.”

  “You work on the water projects and I know you can't say anything specific but tell me how you voted,” Surely, she would be fair and give them a chance to live somewhere else.

  “My vote was for removal. If the option passes, I will be one of the voices that condemned those people to die. We can't have unregulated water use. Our grandparents are giving up their lives, so the water they would use over their remaining years will be saved and shared by the community. Their sacrifice won't be shared with the Reds. That is one thing I can't live with,” she explained firmly, crossed her arms, and went into the living room.

  This is what I could look forward to, condemning people to death for trying to live outside of society and our service requirements. It was all too much to accept and I lost my appetite. I put my dessert back in the fridge and went to find Jason.

  A TRAVELERS FATE

  A porter collected my ticket when I boarded the old shuttle. “Hess Lancer, B 200, just down the hall on your right.” The man's booming voice as he read my ticket put a comforting end to a stressful journey. I nodded in appreciation and made my way to my cabin.

  The bus I took to the launch platform was ten minutes late. I narrowly missed my boarding window. The adrenaline from running across two concourses was waning, and my head began to pound.

  My mother would be inconsolable if I missed my transport. I had to laugh at myself. At thirty-one years old, with all I have lived through in my life, the one thing that can still conjure pure terror in my heart is disappointment in my mother's voice.

  The distant chatter of a half-civilized argument grabbed my attention. I poked my head into the hallway to see what was going on.

  “I'm sorry, Miss, but no more seats are available. The transport is full.” The Porter was a tall, wide, loud man that had no problem blocking a walkway.

  “My name is Nina Craybar. I have a ticket and a confirmation number. Please, Sir, look at your list for my name again.”

  “I can look but that won't change the fact that all the available seats are occupied. You can take your ticket to the transit commission for a full refund. You are not listed on the passenger manifest for this trip.”

  “Please, is there any way I can just sit here in the hallway? A refund won't help me. I need to travel to the surface.”

  “Pardon my intrusion, but I couldn't help overhear your conversation. I have an empty seat in my cabin. My friend canceled this morning. You're welcome to join me.” The young woman arguing with the Porter looked to be about my age and sounded desperate to leave the platform. Her voice was bright and syrupy, melodic even in her anger. After six months at the top of the Tree, I could use some enjoyable noise.

  “Thank you. There isn't another decent scheduled for fifteen days.” The Porter rolled his eyes and scanned Nina's ticket into the passenger list.

  “I'm Hess, propulsion team, west pod, north station.” I extended my hand to the wispy woman. She accepted it with a shaky but still firm handshake. Clearly, she was out of her comfort zone.

  “Nina, biosciences division. You saved my ass. The odds that you would be here with an empty seat that you're willing to share is just beyond computation.”

  “This turn of events is considered fate by most standards. Usually, fate lies in wait ready to shit all over my plans. I'm glad to see it can be used as a force for good.” Nina laughed a nervous laugh that I recognized from every woman I ever dated, but I was too tired to try to be the best version of myself.

  “I don't understand how some of these transit clerks can keep their jobs. They royally screwed up my last trip down the Tree. I was stuck on board for two e
xtra days due to a maintenance layover, so I feel your pain.”

  “Wow, that's totally unacceptable. Did you get your time compensated?” Nina shuffled through the one bag she brought with her and pulled out a small lip balm tube with a green leaf on the label. She unceremoniously swiped it across her full pink lips, dropped it back in her bag, and pulled her long brown hair into a hairband. She reminded me of my sister Beryl, another no-frills yet naturally beautiful girl.

  “Yes, my divisional supervisor called and got my trip refunded, but I still missed some family stuff. There is no way to be compensated for missing a life event.”

  “I don't have a family. So, I don't have any frame of reference for your situation. Oh shit, listen to me. I'm so sorry. I'm aware of the social norms for basic conversation. I can usually follow them, but I'm just so damn tired I can barely think straight.” Nina rubbed her forehead and moved a stray lock dark brown hair behind her ear.

  “No need to apologize to me. Just wait, I'll say something so stupid you will question how I passed the basic IQ requirements. I would get around to it faster if I hadn't been up for the last thirty-six hours.”

  “Wow, I didn't realize propulsion was working double shifts this cycle?” Nina questioned.

  “Got to pay to play, I guess. My leave was scheduled well in advance, but it still came at a bad time for my team. My grandparents have their life-celebration ceremony at the end of the week.”

  “Isn’t that a somewhat outdated tradition now that the continental government declared society stabilized,” Nina remarked rummaging in her carry-on bag again.

  “I think the government has been stabilizing for the last hundred years. My grandfather has a degenerative bone disease. He isn't looking forward to enduring many more years. Besides, they are both in their late seventies. It is old enough for the ceremony to be socially acceptable and young enough to pass down some tax benefits to my mother. They see it as the right time to go,” I explained, knowing how cold and ridiculous the situation sounded when spoken out loud.