Habitat, page 7
part #1 of The End Series
“Mom, don’t start. I’m trying. I have mixed feelings concerning humans and research, and Glairn…”
“Bram, I am your mother, and I love you. I acknowledge life has been difficult since your father…” she stopped. She looked away and returned her gaze with a weary sigh. “He wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. What you choose does not matter, but you must choose. You wanted to play professional drichsc, you wanted to join the Guard, and then, you decided on human studies. Now, you tell me you’re unsure. As for Glairn, I want you to marry and have a child. I understand it’s tempting at your age to want to…try out…as many females as possible.”
“Oh, Mom, alstch, no, do not go down that road today. We are not having the talk.”
“Son, what I mean is this—you may think marriage is stifling when instead, you have so many…”
“Stop. Don’t say it again, please.”
“Bram, marriage will fulfill your needs. You will be an amazing father. If not Glairn, contact Malah or Hilia. They were nice, and I am sure potential for happiness could be found with one of them. If you don’t choose soon, they may couple with another. I don’t wish a lonely life for you.”
“Why?” I asked when she finished.
My tone clearly startled her.
“Why should I do what’s expected? Maybe I don’t want marriage because none of them suit me…”
“You don’t want to be married?” Her face had a look of horror I thought was a complete overreaction. She sat beside me.
I escaped to the bookshelf to see her fake family picture again. I understood what she was saying. “Mom, I’m not convinced my mate should come from one of three women chosen for me. I need to find the perfect person for me.”
“Son, we have laws and traditions. If you choose not to marry, you can never have a child.” She came to where I stood and put an arm around me. “Are you telling me you would prefer a barren relationship with a Discarded? Your father and I wanted your life to be happy.”
“I’m leaving. I’ll be late.” I walked to the inner door.
“Bram, wait,” she said, handing me her dataport. “I love you. You have had enough psychology to see why you can’t commit. I understand giving your love to people risks hurt when you lose them. I grieve for you and with you. However, you’re an adult and must choose a path. Stay with human studies. You have a caring heart. Call one of the other girls and ask her family for dinner. Possibly, they’ve changed more to your liking since May. Please try, for me…and your father.
I left without saying a word, angry she would use my father’s memory to coerce me into a coupling.
I returned to the group. Most were watching sessions being conducted in other parts of the Orchard building. Many doctors used the same techniques for controlling memories, and I felt sympathy, and even guilt being associated with this practice. Regular debates questioned whether the Habitat program was humane. I believed we needed to define what humane meant. They were well kept, but they were also kept in the dark. Their lives were being erased, and although that method resulted in less stress, was it fair to take away the memories of happier times spent with their loved ones?
By the end of the day, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was on sensory overload. They told us we might experience mixed emotions. The Habitat project was a delicate and complex undertaking. I struggled with my allegiance. Humans should be protected, but they should be free. My body wanted to collapse, but my mind wouldn’t cooperate. I wanted to please my mother, but I wanted to please myself. These battles had no end in sight.
Although I was hungry, I skipped the evening meal to avoid Glairn. Once inside the hotel room, I lay in bed, hoping when dreams came, they were filled with images of Ellis.
I see the asteroid glowing brighter and brighter as it nears our atmosphere. The object grows larger with each minute that passes. Why didn’t I go to Earth? I fall to the ground and curl into a ball. I try to close my eyes, but I am captivated. It’s closer now. The heat doesn’t burn me. Instead, I feel warm and safe. Reaching for the impact and void that will follow, I prepare for the end, but instead, a soft hand takes mine and lifts me. She is glowing, and she wraps herself around me so I am protected. The collision does not affect me, and I am unharmed. She is my savior.
I jolted awake wanting to hold on to the dream and make sense of its meaning. In seconds, I had lost it but not its basic connotation. I wanted and needed Ellis in my life.
My roommate, Chaolo, snored like a hovercraft in his bed. I got up to pace and sort my thoughts. The dream was melting away faster than I could decipher its meaning. It was useless to try. I felt like a caged animal trapped in this cramped hotel room. From the auto dispenser, I got a glass of water and took a seat at the worktable trying to pull stubborn remnants of my dissolving dream. Absentmindedly, I spilled water on top of my mother’s dataport. I wiped it away with my nightshirt. I opened the port to see if water had seeped inside. Using the driest portion of my shirt, I cleaned the remaining water droplets hoping I had not ruined any of my mother’s research documents. The action of my hand rubbing against the screen opened a half-dozen files.
“Shalid! Her files,” I said aloud.
The volume of my voice was loud enough to wake a normal person. Luckily, Chaolo didn’t move. Without considering the consequences, I scanned the open documents, and there, before me, was the file marked patients. Why hadn’t I thought of this? Inside the folder, I found a patient file list meant for no one but my mother. I clicked the file marked patient database, and I typed in the name Ellis. In less than a second, her full name and Habitat identification number appeared. Yes! I clicked on Ellis Bauer while thinking how pleasing it sounded and I realized a huge smile had spread across my face. Bauer, Bauer, Ellis Bauer. My actions betrayed my mother’s trust, and yet, I didn’t care. What were the chances of Ellis being my mother’s patient?
I slipped back into bed with the dataport as if I might be caught, but nothing would stop me from learning everything about Ellis Bauer. The photo files from each year of her life displayed images available only to the researchers. The first photo showed Ellis as a newly rescued baby and a member of the Horizon 5000. After, came the photos from toddler to the awkward years, even our species experiences. The recent pictures were the Ellis I met. I had never been more physically attracted to a female. It was a mixture of agony and obsession. Whether this feeling was real or the result of human fascination, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
Her hair fell in long, loose waves and reminded me of the reddish-brown color some leaves turn in the autumn of the year on Earth. I imagined it silky and soft. Her eyes were a mix of gold and green. It was the color I thought of as the sun’s rays splashed across the forest surrounding my parents’ lake house. She was everything that reminded me of warmth and tenderness. But I saw more. I saw her…humanity. I saw laughter and sincerity. She had girlish innocence coupled with an unintentional sensuality. She was womanly and voluptuous with curves and muscles, something Atum females tried to avoid. In our brief conversation, could she have suspected the effect she had on me? I wanted to discover everything. I memorized her home address and her dataport address, although as I did, I said aloud, “Why am I doing this?” This time the sound of my voice startled me and caused Chaolo to roll over.
“Go to sleep, you geek. Enough with the studying,” he said, speaking while yawning.
This one accidental meeting had so changed my world I couldn’t stop. I clicked on the tab marked therapy and read notes my mother compiled.
The subject has exhibited an increased immunity to drug therapy. Attempts to change certain memories have failed. Given she was a baby at the time of The End, I can see no reason to continue trying to re-image memories. The prognosis for this patient suggests she may be predisposed to times of depression because she has no memories of biological parents. Although the subject describes a loving, bonded relationship with her father, I suspect she longs for a mother figure with whom she feels a similar closeness. She may mourn for her unknown biological mother, and this action could cause depressive tendencies. This issue should be noted for further developments in her therapy.
Her memories could not be altered easily. My mind raced with concern for her welfare. I could ask my mother how often humans are resistant to treatment and the long-term effects of their continual suffering.
Because the subject has an extreme devotion to her father and not the mother, I believe this may have caused several anxieties about self-worth. I suspect the patient manages parental expectations with deceit. Her avoidance of conflict is a primary motivation for her. Her best option will be to move from the parental home after placement. She exhibits signs of being subjected to oppressive control by the mother that causes the patient to search for ways to rebel in secret.
I clicked on the highlighted word mother, and a picture of an ordinary human came onto the screen. Harsh was the word that came to mind. Her name was Greta Bauer. I clicked on the personal information tab, and a security screen presented itself, not allowing me access. Possibly, my mother wasn’t her therapist and therefore, did not have access to her files. I backtracked and clicked on the word father. Alex Bauer’s face appeared. I’d be closer to him than the mother. Sometimes, people’s faces draw in or repel. His was a face that encouraged happiness. He was nice looking for an older guy and reminded me of my dad in a way. I remember Mom telling me Dad had been a real charmer and his other two coupling matches had pursued him relentlessly. I had a taste of that myself with Glairn. But Ellis’s dad could have done better. The Habitat must have had other women survivors who’d have loved to pair with him. Checking further, I found he, too, was not my mother’s patient.
I returned to Ellis’s file and read every detail. Am I a human stalker? I separated myself from that notion. My head spun, thinking of the rules I had broken. I wished the most serious had been contacting a human without authorization. The most severe rule-breaking lay ahead of me. Our society would never permit relationships between Atum and humans, but I couldn’t possibly forget her. This was a dangerous path, and I didn’t care.
I had to talk to my mom, so I grabbed my miniport and walked into the bathroom, tapping her number.
She answered after a few beeps. “Bram, is everything fine?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking of our conversation today. Did I wake you?”
“I wasn’t asleep. Son, are we okay?”
“Yes, Mom. I understand what you meant today, and I am trying, but I need you to back off for the present. Okay? Give me time.”
“I can do that,” she said.
“Mom, do you ever think about Dad?”
“Yes,” she replied. “What drove you to ask that question?”
“Mother, I’m not a patient. Tell me you miss him. Talk about him with emotion and affection.” I wanted her to be Mom. I understood her nature to resort to a therapist in times of stress, but it infuriated me.
There was nothing except silence for a few seconds. “He was the most patient person I’ve ever known. Your dad was good and saw good in everyone else. He would sit and peel oranges for you and me. It was your favorite earth food when you were young. We’d sit on the floor in front of the fire with a small basketful. He took his time peeling and cutting and making sure your slices didn’t have any seeds. And he never ate any until we were finished. He couldn’t have thought we would eat every orange, so I always wondered why he waited to eat. It was one of the last conversations we had. He said his pleasure came from watching us enjoy them. So yes, I miss him. I never doubted his love for me. When you came into our lives, our family was complete. He was so proud of you and loved you so much. Now, tell me why you thought of him.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment because I remembered those times with the oranges. “If he were here, I could talk to him.” I looked into the lit mirror and realized for the first time how much I resembled my dad. He would walk around in pajama pants with no shirt. Mom would giggle and tell him to put on clothes. He’d pat her on the butt, and she’d giggle more. At the time, I thought that gesture was sickening, but it showed me how much he loved her. I wanted that life.
“Bram? Son? Are you still there?” She brought me back from where my mind had drifted.
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“I understand I’m not a man, but I can help if you…”
“It’s a Dad day. I miss hearing his stories and playing drichsc together, and I miss him because…he isn’t here.”
“I understand you’ve been without him for a long time, but we will never lose the memory of him. That is what we hold on to—his memory. I love you, Bram,” she said.
“You, too,” I said.
We ended our call. The last words Mom said were we would never lose the memory of him because that is what we hold on to. But the humans were losing their memories, and right then, I decided it was wrong.
I slept a dreamless sleep. Occasionally, I awoke to reposition myself, and I’d smile as I let her face drift into my thoughts.
CHAPTER 8
I am descended from a line of proud Preservationists. Those who want to share this planet with the human species as equals threaten our way of life. Those same people would risk our race being tainted by interbreeding, thus putting our evolutionary superiority at stake.
We ask for everyone’s support to protect the path for our survival. While I focus my education and career plans in human studies, I am not inclined to promote conservation. I intend to establish that human existence is a menace to our society. History has proven them a species destined for self-destruction. Human-caused extinctions of numerous animal and plant life-forms attest to their merciless nature. If we consider, alone, what they did to cause environmental havoc on their own planet, our mission is justified.
Our organization will forever be anti-human and stands firm in its goal to see the human population exterminated. We believe that as long as one human survives on Earth, our people are in danger. Until we have eradicated all humans, the future of the Atum will not be secure.
—Glairn Nirgal
New Earth Post Editorial
September 2050
THE MEETING
WE ARRIVED AT the Habitat at ten o’clock for our second day of observation. I was first in line to exit the bus. I should have felt tired, but instead, was thrilled I might see her again. Today, the human teenager was the focus. My focus was Ellis. This part of the human population was near our age, so our professor assigned us a compare and contrast paper to present in class. The goal of this assignment was to consider how we Atum were similar and different from the humans nearest our age group. We traveled to a section of the Habitat to view school-aged humans from the observation halls. Of the seven thousand inhabitants of Horizon, three thousand ranged in age from three to twenty. This was the last week of their term before the four-week late-summer break. On Nurahatum, children attended school year-round with four weeklong breaks every year. The Habitat school calendar was created with a similar schedule allowing students sixteen weeks of vacation throughout the school year.
The course work changed drastically after The End. Neither the Atum nor the human teachers in the Habitat supported a regular curriculum. Students learned information that helped them in the current world. The minute details of who invented what or what day an insignificant battle occurred no longer mattered. The survivors who became teachers designed a curriculum that taught basic history, math, English, health, and science. Students interested in physical education, art, foreign languages, or music enrolled in those classes at the Hobby Center.
From ages three to five, children were in a pre-school environment where they learned socialization and behavior skills. After, they entered school at age six and graduated fourteen years later. The oldest level of education was Year 14. During that year, humans took placement tests to establish what abilities they possessed that might be useful for Horizon’s growth. After placement, they entered apprenticeships to learn the finer aspects needed to perform their jobs.
At our leisure, we could free-view any classes of interest. I chose the oldest grade Ellis likely attended. By 11:30, I found her. There were six of us viewing the same group, including Glairn.
“They get uglier as they get older,” she said, as she pointed to different humans. Shuhaln was making notes on her dataport as she studied them.
“Look at the red-faced one in the green blouse. Others flock to her as if she holds authority,” said Glairn. She wasn’t speaking of Ellis, for she sat off to the side with the same girl from yesterday. I was careful not to stare at Ellis, for fear Glairn may notice and wage her verbal war.
“Can anyone hear what those outcasts in the corner are saying?” Meziem said. He was pointing to Ellis and her friend, no doubt to please Glairn. I tried to separate the noisy chatter from what she was saying but couldn’t. Her eyes danced when she talked. Her laugh was infectious, and I caught myself smiling.
“And who are you studying?” asked Glairn.
“No one, why do you ask?”
“Are you interested in that large, ugly one over there?” She pointed in Ellis’s direction. Vicious thoughts raced through my mind. I could have destroyed Glairn’s reputation right then and taken great pleasure in thinking how she might have reacted if I exposed her secrets. I should have humiliated her. I seethed, and I’m sure she must have noticed. However, if I lost my temper, I might reveal my feelings for Ellis and jeopardize the chance to stay in the class.
“No one here interests me,” I said, “absolutely no one.” I emphasized the last statement so she would understand my true meaning. I turned toward the exit without another word. As I walked out, I heard her ask to join me, but I didn’t stop. I no longer cared what Glairn or anyone thought.
The Atum debated whether humans deserved the title of “higher life form.” Many scientists argued humans were marginally more intelligent than their closest relative, the chimpanzee. Others agreed, citing the gorilla, dolphin, elephant, and pan paniscus medius (a dwarf chimpanzee, discovered in the Amazon Rainforest in 2030) as being near to the evolutionary levels at which humans perform. “It is ironic,” a leading scientist noted, “humans consider apes inferior in the same way Atum consider humans inferior.” Nevermore than the moment I met Ellis, did I realize humans were not an ignorant species.
