Habitat, page 10
part #1 of The End Series
“I need to go,” I said. “Ellis, I can’t do this.” I slid from the seat of the booth to stand.
She looked at me, her face full of surprise. She reached across the table and took my hand. “Stop. I miss my real parents, too.” My every thought and feeling spiraled and fixated on our joined hands. “Even though they died when I was a baby and I don’t remember them, my heart misses them. I have no mementos and no pictures, but I believe you can love someone without knowing them.”
I stared at her for a moment and let my thoughts swim in the words she spoke. Did she truly believe that? I was taking a chance and hoping she was sure of her feelings. She didn’t know the real me yet, but I wanted her to love me. Our hands still lay intertwined. I smiled and slid back into the booth.
“How about another bite of cake?” I said. She looked at me and smiled. There was no turning back. I committed myself to her at that moment for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 10
My husband was a good person and a good father. He was intelligent and dedicated to his work. I didn’t want to hurt him, so I never confessed he wasn’t my first choice. When I received my three matches, I was ecstatic to see a familiar name. It was someone I had loved for two years. To complicate matters, he was my best friend. When the Habitat Human Studies department chose his team for the earth expedition, I was miserable. He promised me when he returned to Nurahatum, we would make our declaration, so I said no to the other matches. However, when he did return, he told me he’d fallen in love with another person. I was sure I would die of a broken heart and a broken promise. Two weeks later, I buried my pain and married another match still hopeful for our alliance. I never told my husband I longed for someone else, and in time, I came to love him.
—Dr. Claire Adler
Private Journal Entry
2040
THE LAKE
I CONVINCED MY mother to let us both stay at the Horizon apartment for the rest of the weekend. I argued the Habitat setting inspired the writing for my research paper. She believed I was taking life seriously because the plight of humans interested me more than ever before. Surprisingly, it didn’t take my full arsenal of reasons. She said she needed time to finish bookwork in the office. She agreed, provided I promised to stay in the apartment only going backstage for meals. I planned most definitely to break that promise. On Thursday, when Ellis and I ate at the Fountain, I asked to see her the next afternoon. She told me no because of her volunteer duty at the Hobby Center. I asked for that night, but she was having Ana for a sleepover. I questioned if she had any feelings for me, but then she suggested Saturday at five o’clock. I was orchestrating something that could destroy our families, the Habitat, and all humans. I didn’t care—I should have, but I didn’t. I felt addicted to her and couldn’t stop thinking of her. She would come.
And there I was, waiting.
The sun was setting—the time of the day I loved best. Earth was so colorful. Although I had no real memories of my home planet, I had seen pictures. There was a time of day when our suns hung low in the sky. They cast an aqua glow upon everything. The pictures were fascinating, but it couldn’t compare to the warmth of oranges, reds, and pinks that lay before me from the earth’s single, gigantic sun. It was gorgeous, but nothing equaled what now appeared in the distance.
I’d been thinking of a loveless future with an Atum woman chosen for me, and when I lifted my eyes, Ellis was walking from the other side of the lake toward me. The exquisite splendor of that moment progressed in slow motion. As she walked, the air swirled around her, bringing with it bits of dust and seedlings from nearby plants. They stirred with her every movement, corresponding with my own feelings. A pale-yellow dress hung to the top of her knees. She had put her hair up loosely so wavy strands cascaded at random. I wanted to drink in every hypnotic step she took toward me. Her smile was natural and easy. Was she blind to how exquisite she was? Did my face not express how I felt? I etched each part of her into my memory, but I wanted everything—her favorite flower, her favorite color, what made her laugh, and what made her cry. I’d love every facet of her. She walked closer, and my chest tightened with breath. The passion I felt was unparalleled. Fire ripped through my body, and I wondered if she saw me with the same intensity. I could have walked toward her, but I wanted to savor every second of her movement.
“Hello,” she said, lowering her head to the ground, no doubt embarrassed because I had been staring at her.
I gently put my fingers to her chin and lifted her face to mine. “You are so beautiful.”
She lowered her head again, avoiding my gaze.
Was this indifference? Was this insecurity? I had to know. Again, I cupped her chin and tilted her head upward. I didn’t let go until she returned my smile. I held my hand out, and she grasped it gently. We looked at our hands joined and then looked at each other. That was how it happened. A connection—not of common interests, shallow physical attraction, or intellectual admiration—it was just “knowing”.
“Tell me something…anything,” I said. She took a misstep and lost her balance. I had her firmly, and she did not fall. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks flushed. I had seen that look several times, and although she was embarrassed, it made her even more desirable.
“I’m fine. Tell me something about you first. Are you as graceful as I am?” she laughed.
“I have my moments, too. Tell me more about you, Ellis.”
“I thought it was your turn,” she said.
I wanted her to have the truth—it suffocated me. I didn’t want to wait any longer. With every new lie, I would be taking the same knife which stabbed me in the gut and use it to slash any trust she might ever have in me. I risked the chance she could love me—the real me. My only relief was hearing her speak and look at me and smile. I talked; I lied. Misery and exhilaration took turns in my head. I kept waiting for whatever brought us together to give me a sign when I should tell her the truth. Searching for an opportunity that never appeared was torture.
The sun began to disappear. I wished for more time with her, but we were already breaking the rules.
“I don’t want to say goodnight, but it’s getting late, and I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble with your parents,” I said. She smiled. My heart fluttered. This is how love should feel. For my world, questions and mathematical probability determined compatibility. Did the Atum know what passion they were missing? Had anyone been so in love with a calculated companion? I must be the first Atum in the world to understand we didn’t comprehend the power of such human emotions. I took her hand again; it felt soft, warm, and fragile. I brought it up to my mouth, opened it to reveal her palm, and kissed it. I didn’t think; I simply did it. Words didn’t exist in any language to describe how that moment felt.
I forced myself to let her hand leave my lips. I looked at her, wanting so much more and knowing it wasn’t possible.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” I asked, letting her hand fall back to her side.
“Yes, but you should meet my parents first. I wouldn’t want us to get into trouble.”
What could I say? If her father searched my name in the official database, he would discover Bram Potter didn’t exist.
“I want to meet them, but my mom has a tight schedule. Why don’t we plan to introduce our parents at The Beginning Celebration picnic?”
“Oh,” she said frowning, “not until Thursday?” I heard the disappointment in her voice, and it gave me hope.
“We could meet tomorrow outside the Orchard building. We can go to the Fountain.”
“I can’t tomorrow. There is the project I’m doing with Ana. How about Monday?” she asked.
Mom would demand to go home Sunday or Monday. I was off from school the entire week, but I didn’t know how long she would let me stay inside the Habitat. I took a chance, “I can’t meet on Monday. Are you free Tuesday to meet at the Archives? We can run into one another in the fiction section again. I’ll be there at three.” I was trying to calculate the timing in my head.
She stepped closer. “Yes.”
That single word of response from her lips sent warmth through me. It was like bees’ honey on hot bread. Thick and slow and sweet. I wanted to take her in my arms and not let her leave me. I used every bit of restraint I had to keep from kissing her. In a blinding halt, I considered where this relationship could go. Eventually, she must learn the truth, and I would be the one to tell her. My heart had bound me in this relationship, but Ellis needed the whole truth before I let her give away her heart. When she learned everything, would she forgive me? And could I forgive myself if I ever hurt her?
CHAPTER 11
Habitat Security Department
(1) Chief Inspector (Atum) will assume executive responsibility within the Department of Security. The position will report to the Director of Human Affairs headquartered in New Earth City.
(1) Horizon Inspector (Atum) will oversee the duties of security officers and handle final decisions about non-threat-related issues in Horizon. The Horizon Inspector will report to the Chief Inspector.
(24) Horizon Officers (Atum) will manage general community welfare daily. These officers will report to the Horizon Inspector.
(1) Habitat Inspector (Atum) will manage the containment and control of the Habitat. The Habitat Inspector will report to the Chief Inspector.
(60) Habitat Officers (Atum) will manage the borders surrounding the Habitat. The main purpose of this office is to protect the Habitat from being breached. These officers will report to the Habitat Inspector. Officers will not have contact with humans, (unless a breach occurs) and will work only in the backstage region of the Habitat.
Five-Year Annual Incident Report
for the Habitat Security Department
36 Detentions:
(2) vandalism
(7) attempted escapes
(6) assaults
(6) disturbing the peace
(3) thefts
(12) miscellaneous violations
68 Arranged Releases:
(10) socially impaired patients
(19) emotionally/mentally impaired patients
(23) medically/physically impaired patients
(16) emergency releases
6 Accidental Deaths:
(2) drownings
(1) electrocution
(1) fall
(2) farm-related accidents
32 Suicides
52 Natural Deaths
—Inspector Thomas Ryder
Habitat Security Department
August 1, 2037
THE FOUNTAIN
I WAITED FOR Ana to finish her release. We hadn’t discussed my date with Bram at the park. Mrs. McCoy had taken my order, and only one other customer sat in the Fountain. Here, we could talk without being overheard.
“Cherry pie and coffee, dear,” said Mrs. Young, who must have been near seventy-five or eighty. She was still an elegant woman. Mrs. McCoy told me she had been something called a beauty queen as a young girl. It sounded shallow, but many things in that world were different.
“Okay, coming up, sweetie,” said Mrs. McCoy. She hurried away to get coffee while I heard Phil in back whistling and singing an unknown song in Spanish.
Mrs. McCoy dropped off my hot tea and delivered coffee to Mrs. Young. I wished Ana would hurry; I felt odd and thought maybe that I was coming down with something.
Finally, Ana walked through the door. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “What have I missed?”
“I’m having hot tea, Mrs. Young is having pie, and Mrs. McCoy is fussing at Phil because she can’t understand the lyrics to his song. Other than that—nothing.”
“Hello, darling,” said Mrs. McCoy. “What can I get today for you, hon?”
“Tea and fried pickles, please,” said Ana. Mrs. McCoy hurried off, and Ana turned to face me. “I’ve so much to tell you. You are not going to believe what Dr. Webster and I talked about. But you go first. You aren’t eating? Are you sick?”
“I’m fine, Mother,” I said. “Maybe I’m taking a cold.”
“Get to the juicy parts and stop stalling, Grandma…with your hot tea.” She grinned and made kissing noises.
“How old are you again?” I asked. Ana laughed and made a kissy-face. “Okay, it was incredible,” I said, “and we talked about everything. He’s studying to be a type of therapist, and he’s almost twenty-two.”
“Did he kiss you?” she asked.
“Ana,” I said, “You get right to the”—a shriek and crash ripped through the restaurant.
We both whipped around to see Mrs. Young standing in the middle of her shattered coffee cup. She screamed an ear-piercing cry. When she stopped, Mrs. McCoy was first to step toward her. “Stop,” Mrs. Young commanded, pointing at the confused waitress. “You won’t take them.”
Mrs. McCoy froze with bewilderment. “I…I want to help you, Mrs. Young.”
“I know what you want. You want memories of him, and you can’t have them. I remember. I remember everything and you want to take it away.” She looked down at the spilled coffee and fragments of pottery. “I loved Curtis. We married fifty years ago today. Everyone thought I wanted him for his money. His family didn’t understand I loved him…despite his faults. When it happened, they left him behind and took me. I refuse to forget him. That’s why they want him now. But I won’t let go. Those memories are all I have of the good times, and I won’t let you take them.”
Mrs. McCoy, perhaps for the first time in her life, could not speak. She looked at us as if we might understand what Mrs. Young was saying. “Phil, call Assistance.” Assistance was our emergency office. Phil, who had come from the kitchen, moved faster than usual but stopped and tiptoed for fear he might upset the already upset Mrs. Young. Had this been a different situation, it would’ve been comical to see Phil tiptoeing.
Mrs. McCoy turned back to the elderly lady, desperate to help in any way. “Honey, can I get you another cup of coffee?” There was no answer. Mrs. Young continued to look downward.
She and I talked a few times before, but I didn’t have a close relationship with her. I wanted to help, so I made a lightning decision. I stood and took a deep breath to make sure my voice sounded soft and monotone.
“I want to hear about Curtis. Tell me what you remember, Mrs. Young.”
She raised her head, and tears streamed amid the aged lines of her face. She was, however, smiling. “We drank coffee every morning in our sunroom. We might have been drinking this coffee together, but he wasn’t taken. They took me from him, and now, they want to take his memory from me. But I won’t let them,” she said as she stooped forward.
“Let me help you clean that, Mrs. Young. I can do it for you,” I said. I stepped closer.
“Stop.” She held up a withered hand. I did as ordered. She allowed herself to crouch until she was sitting on the floor. Her beige skirt soaked in the dark brown liquid. She touched the stain now spreading on the fabric. When she raised her head, I could tell an idea sparked clearly in her mind. Her wrinkled mouth curled upward and stretched to reveal an unnatural smile. Her eyes grew wide and wild.
“Stop them, Ellis. They aren’t what they appear to be.” She picked up the largest shard of the broken coffee cup and sliced along the underside of her wrist, and then changing hands, with greater speed, slashed the other. Her expression never changed. If she was in pain, her face showed no sign, but it must have been excruciating. She looked at me with that eerie smile again, “Habitat,” she muttered, as the color faded from her lined face, “Habitat.” Her skirt soaked in a different liquid of dark red. Still looking at me, she stopped smiling and fell to the floor with a dull thump. Within seconds, Mrs. McCoy followed to the floor with a similar sound, only much louder.
Ana rushed by, elbowing me out of her way. I was still trying to sort out what happened. Her words kept repeating in my head—stop them, stop them, stop them. “Stop who?” I said aloud, to no one listening except myself.
Ana leaned over Mrs. Young, but I couldn’t understand why. She was screaming something, but I couldn’t hear. I’d gone deaf. The sound roared back into my world as plates crashed in the kitchen, and I came back from wherever I had been.
Phil screamed my name, and I stumbled to Mrs. McCoy, who sat up and screamed again. I wished, for a moment, she hadn’t regained consciousness. Phil and I helped her into a booth. I watched him cradle her, rocking back and forth, and I realized I had joined in the rocking motion. Time had stopped. How long had it been?
Ana stood and walked toward me, covered in Mrs. Young’s blood. “She’s dead,” she yelled over the waitress’s screams that began again after seeing Ana blood-soaked.
I looked over my friend’s shoulder at Mrs. Young’s body lying in an unnatural heap. Her eyes were closed, and I was thankful. That unnerving smile had faded, and her face now looked peaceful. The agony had vanished.
The door burst open, and three officials raced into the restaurant. That action helped to break through the haze into which I’d fallen again. I shook my head, hoping to wake from this nightmare. Was I in the middle of having one of my horrible dreams? Could I be in Ana’s bed safe and secure right now? I couldn’t clear my mind. This moment was the same as waking from a dream and being unsure of anything—where you were, what day it was, or if you were even awake. I raised my head after a few moments and saw a man turn the open sign to read closed. He took out his miniport and walked through the door to stand outside the entrance. Another official, a tall woman with a thin, chiseled face, walked toward Ana and me. The room spun. If Mrs. McCoy would shut up, I could focus. I shook my head again, and I pinched my leg as hard as possible. It was useless. There was no waking from this.
