Dome Nine

by John Purcell

  Chapter 4

  10.14.2173.9:29PM

  I am not at all sure what Miss Green’s behavior means. She is much more unusual than I would have ever guessed.

  This afternoon in class, we began our unit on American history. I settled into my seat, preparing to listen again to the story I’ve heard 79 times before, about the Great Crash and the Glorious Salvation. We receive new history textbooks every so often but the wording never changes. It always reads:

  In the mid-21st Century, all the nations of the world—except for United North Korea and China (UNK/C)—had come to depend on an information network known as the Internet for all their needs and desires. Without thinking clearly, they connected the world’s data to it, at all times, through wireless devices. Fortunately, UNK/C recognized the dangers inherent in this and created the DataStream, which was completely protected from failure.

  When the Great Crash came, in 2073, the Internet ceased to exist and all data from governments, financial institutions and stock markets worldwide vanished. This led to chaos, civil war, and famine.

  In an act of great heroism, UNK/C deployed peacekeepers across the developed world to restore order and hope. The era of the Glorious Salvation (2074-2082) began, guided by our Savior, Kim Jong-pil.

  In 2075, Kim Jong-pil, in partnership with U.S. President Trip Savage, incorporated the United States into the Democratic People’s Global Republic (DPGR). Assisted by the GR, President Savage constructed the Domes that protect our cities from natural disaster, and the high-speed underground rail network that connects them to the Arctic farmlands.

  It goes on from there, but the point is Miss Green’s behavior.

  She took her place at the blackboard, called the class to order, and said, “Today, children, I have the honor of teaching you the history of the Glorious Salvation. But before we get started, I wanted to say one thing.”

  She turned to me and said, “Tears in my eyes I hail giving.”

  Then she turned back and started teaching the lesson word-for-word from the textbook, and never looked my way again.

  She’d clearly meant her words for me, but they didn’t make any sense. I concluded that the sentence was an anagram and began sorting through all possible combinations of its 24 letters. It took 18 minutes 43 seconds before I got a result that made sense: Everything I’m saying is a lie.

  I was still trying to assess this result when the bell rang and school let out for the day. I had to put the whole problem aside because every question led to more questions. And it was time to go to the birthday party.

  When Luma and I got home, Eppi greeted us at the door and told us to go wash up. While we were in the bathroom, she backed our red and white ’59 Impala out of the garage and parked it by the front walkway. Then she came back inside and shooed us out the door.

  Moto, our iPup, was racing in circles with excitement over the car ride. She dashed between our legs and down the walkway and jumped through the open window into the backseat, barking so wildly that Eppi had to hit the mute button.

  It took us 11 minutes to get to Rayleen Scott’s house, which was on Paradise Avenue, all the way over in East Rim, near the GR barracks.

  Eppi couldn’t even pull over to drop us off, because Impalas were parked all up and down the street. A lot of people had arrived early. Parents and kids were standing in groups on Rayleen’s front lawn. When we hopped out of the car, heads turned our way. Luma swung the door shut and Eppi drove off.

  By the time we reached the curb, all eyes were upon us.

  I said, “Is this the way most birthday parties start out?”

  Luma took my arm. “This is really weird.”

  As we came up the walkway, everyone stepped back and I could see Dogan Nath on the front step, a baseball bat resting on his shoulder.

  Luma hesitated. “Maybe we should just skip the party.”

  I said, “I can’t back down now.”

  My own words took me by surprise. Objectively, there wasn’t a single good reason to stay. The words seemed to come from nowhere. I knew I would have to trace them back to their source as soon as I had the chance.

  We arrived at the foot of the stairs. Dogan was standing above us on the landing, three steps up, blocking the front door. His eyes were on me. I released Luma’s arm and she stepped aside.

  Dogan said, “I told you if you came I’d smash you to pieces.”

  I said, “That’s true.”

  “You didn’t believe me?”

  “I believe you meant what you said.”

  “You aren’t afraid I’m going to do it?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  I was simply stating a fact, but this made Dogan angry. He shifted his weight and his grip tightened on the bat.

  He said, “I told you not to come,” and swung the bat at my head with all his strength.

  I raised my forearm, deflecting the blow. I felt it and it wasn’t pleasant, but I don’t process pain as humans do. And, unlike bone, the alloy in my forearm is much stronger than wood.

  Dogan swung at my head again and I blocked the bat again. We went around a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth. Finally, he paused, breathing hard.

  I said, “This is a waste of time.”

  Then Dogan did something I didn’t expect: he threw down the bat and burst into tears. He bawled into his fists for a moment, but anger and embarrassment took over and he leaned down and started screaming in my face. “Just go away! I don’t want you here! Nobody wants you here! Why don’t you understand that?”

  He words died away and silence fell over the yard.

  I said, “I do understand.”

  I turned to Luma, who also had tears in her eyes. “I have to go. You stay and enjoy the party.”

  She shook her head, but I said, “These are your friends. I want you to stay.”

  The front door opened and Rayleen’s mom stepped outside. She came down the stairs, past Dogan, and put her arm around Luma. “Please don’t cry, honey. Come inside and have some cake.” She turned to the people in the yard. “Everyone, please come in.”

  She led Luma up the steps and into the house. Dogan turned his back to me and followed them in. Then all the parents and kids went inside, too, passing by me without a word or a glance. Things were back to normal.

  I walked out to Paradise Avenue and headed south. When I got to the corner, I turned east on Founding Father Boulevard, toward East Rim Park.

  Dome Nine is one if the oldest Domes in the country, and I’ve lived here all my life. Every so often, on a Sunday, I’ll go to East Rim Park to watch the ocean and escape my own thoughts. The easternmost segment of Dome Nine extends right up to the edge of the Pennsylvania Seawall and you can see the waves crashing on the rocks below.

  In the afternoon, most people go to West Rim Park to watch the sunset, so I had my pick of benches. I sat down and considered my own words: I can’t back down now.

  Dogan Nath isn’t the first bully I’ve ever encountered. There’s one in every class, and I just try to avoid them. When I can’t, though, I always back down. I don’t have much choice. I can’t harm humans in any way. I can’t even touch them.

  The bullies, of course, can touch me all they like, but it isn’t really a problem, because their punches and headlocks don’t cause real pain and I don’t feel fear or humiliation. It’s just part of my school day.

  Where, then, had those words come from? I closed out my gross motor functions to increase my calculation speed and started a scan. It took 17 seconds to trace them back to their source: processor 443K again.

  This made me even more determined to break the access code. Now, thanks to the disaster at the birthday party, I had enough free time. Afterward, I planned to run back to Rayleen’s house and ride home with Luma.

  All my other access codes are 40 digit combinations of numbers and letters, so it was just a matter of sorting through all the possibilitie
s. To increase calculation speed even further, I closed out my language and audio-visual functions, something I seldom do. I would be deaf, dumb and blind until I either broke the code or processed all possible combinations.

  I closed my eyes and time lost all meaning.

  When I opened them again, 4 hours 17 minutes 33 seconds had elapsed. As my functions rebooted, I could see that night had fallen. Why had my calculations taken so long?

  I knew I’d missed my ride, and that Luma would be worried about me. I wondered if they’d already started looking for me. Dome Nine is 15.7 miles in circumference, a very large search area. I needed to get to a telephone.

  I was about to stand up when I realized two things: I had successfully broken the code, and Miss Green was sitting next to me on the bench.

  I turned to her. “How long have you been sitting here?”

  She said, “About an hour.”

  “Since nightfall.”

  She smiled a little. “Yes, since nightfall.”

  “I deciphered your message. You said, ‘Everything I’m saying is a lie.’”

  “Very good.”

  “But what did you mean by it?”

  “There’s an old saying, Teo. History is written by the winners. What do you suppose that means?”

  “That you teach us whatever the GR wants you to teach, and that their version of history is untrue.”

  She smiled again. “You’re even brighter than I’d expected. May I ask you a personal question?”

  “If you like.”

  “How much do you know about your father?”

  “I don’t have much information. My mother didn’t like to talk about him.”

  “You must know a little.”

  “His name was Joseph Clay. He was a scientist who designed and manufactured androids. He designed me to look like a human being and constructed me by hand.”

  Miss Green nodded. “Anything else?”

  “He also invented the Trans-processor External Overlay. My brain circuitry uses multiple TEO’s. That’s how I’m able to think as humans do.”

  “You’re one of the only androids in the world who has them. Do you know why that is?”

  “No.”

  Miss Green put her hand on my arm. “Your father was a genius, Teo, one of the great minds of the 21st Century. To this day, no one else has figured out how to build anything like the TEO, and it isn’t for lack of trying.”

  “Then why isn’t my father famous? Why is there nothing about him in any book or newspaper or magazine I’ve ever read?”

  “The GR works very hard to obliterate the past.”

  “And why do I have no memory of my father at all?”

  “I don’t know the answer. All I can do is guess.”

  “Please.”

  Miss Green frowned in thought. “Most likely, your father deleted whatever memories you had of him.”

  “Why?”

  “He was still building you when the Invasion began. As soon as UNK/C got here, they started rounding up scientists. Your father would have been on the top of the list. Once they got a hold of anyone useful, they always made the same offer: collaborate or be sent to the Arctic Circle.”

  “To the oil fields?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that where my father ended up?”

  Miss Green paused, turning away. “I’m sorry, Teo. Your father was a collaborator. Early GR documents show that he worked in the Provisional Science Ministry from 2074 until his death in 2101.”

  “What did he do there?”

  “Research of some sort. If it’s any consolation, nothing he did seemed to be of much help to the GR.” She turned back to me. “But here’s my point. Your father hadn’t quite finished you when they came looking for him. Your earliest memories were probably of running and hiding. Somehow, he got you to Dome Nine and into his godmother’s care. I imagine he deleted your early memories to give you a fresh start.”

  I wasn’t sure what to think. “How do you know all this?”

  Miss Green seemed to ignore the question. “What do you know about life outside the Domes?”

  “I understand it’s dangerous, for many reasons.”

  “That’s true. The conditions are difficult and there are dangers of every kind. But there’s civilization, too, Teo, a real world, not like this bubble you live in. And everyone Outside knows what really happened to America. That’s how I know about your father.”

  “You’ve been Outside?”

  Miss Green shook her head impatiently. “I was born Outside.”

  “You’re a Goth?”

  “There aren’t any Goths, Teo. That’s just a term the GR dredged up. It’s one of their most enduring lies.”

  “Then who’s out there?”

  “All sorts of people, although they aren’t easy to find.”

  “The GR says the Goths number in the millions.”

  “That can’t be true. Most of those left outside the Domes died, one way or another. Survivors organized themselves into clans, but they only numbered in the thousands.”

  “You were born into one of these clans?”

  “Yes, the Potomac clan.”

  “And now you’re in Dome Nine, teaching 5th grade? How is that possible?”

  “Teo, Miss Green isn’t my real name.”

  I was growing concerned. “If you aren’t who the GR thinks you are, then you’re in danger right now.”

  Miss Green misunderstood me. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

  I tried again. “Why did you follow me here?”

  She looked surprised. “How do you know I followed you?”

  “I saw you parked on Paradise Avenue and now you’re parked near the Esso station.”

  “You can’t have spotted me. I was watching you through binoculars.”

  “I’m an android, Miss Green. But the point is, you aren't the only one who followed me here.”

  She glanced around the park. “What do you mean?”

  “As soon as I sat down here, two GR men in a Ford Falcon parked by the archway. They’re still there.”

  She leaned toward me. “We can’t be seen talking like this again. Just remember, your father created you for a purpose. Fulfill that purpose.”

  She stood up and walked quickly away toward her car, disappearing into the darkness.

  A moment later, I heard Luma call my name and turned to see her running toward me. She came up and threw her arms around my neck, saying, “Oh, Teo! I was so worried! When we couldn’t find you Mom drove home and called Dad! I told them we should look for you here but Dad called Mr. Wu instead!”

  When Luma released me, I could see Drake and Mr. Wu walking up the pathway toward us, side by side. Drake was unsteady on his feet. Mr. Wu’s face was expressionless. I heard the gentle whine of an electric motor and saw the Ford Falcon pull away from the curb.

  Drake walked up to me. “Thanks, Teo! I just love spending all my free time looking for you! Let’s do this every night!”

  He smelled of alcohol.

  Mr. Wu stepped in front of Drake and put his hand on my shoulder. “Thank goodness you’re safe, Teo. Your disappearance has caused quite a stir.”

  I said, “I apologize for upsetting everyone. I came here to process data and lost track of the time.”

  “I’ve never known you to do that before. Did the woman you were speaking with distract you?”

  “No. We only spoke for 6 minutes or so.”

  “Who was she? You two seemed to know each other.”

  I didn’t want to reveal Miss Green’s identity but Mr. Wu left me no choice. I’m incapable of lying. “That was my teacher, Miss Green.”

  “May I ask what you and she were discussing?”

  I can't lie, but I can withhold information. “American history. We started studying it in school today.”

  “And how did she happen upon you here? Pure coincidence?”
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br />   Just then, Drake stepped forward. “Blah, blah, blah! Can we get going now?”

  For once, his foul humor did some good. I stood up. “Drake is right, we should be getting home.”

  When we arrived at the Impala, Drake followed Mr. Wu to the driver’s side and tried to take the keys from his hand. “Let me drive this time! You drive like an old woman!”

  Mr. Wu held the keys out of reach and spoke under his breath. Luma couldn’t hear him, but I could.

  He said, “You dishonor yourself with your drunken antics. If you keep this up, other arrangements will be made.”

  I didn’t understand his meaning but Drake clearly did. He seemed dazed as he made his way around to the passenger side. He didn’t say another word during the ride home.

  Mr. Wu dropped us off at the house and he and Drake continued on to DynaLink.

  Eppi hardly spoke as she hurried us into bed, and her eyes were red from crying. She’s kinder to me than Drake but I’m still a Menial to her. It’s unlikely she’d been crying over me.

  In the remaining minutes before shutdown, I considered my conversation with Miss Green. She’d seemed sincere, but I wasn’t prepared to believe everything she’d told me. After all, I had no idea who she really was.

  The GR has been at war with the Goths for as long as I can remember. Thousands of young men have died in battle. Before I can believe it’s all a lie, I need to hear it from someone else.

  Entry complete.