A Better World, page 3
The thing about fifteen-year-olds: they act like they’re thirty, and they act like they’re three.
The smart house was four hundred square meters and came with a maid. Handprints opened every door. The windows darkened or became transparent by voice command. Food got ordered and delivered that way, too. Though the furnishings tended too much toward red velvet and gold paint, it was sumptuous, with the kinds of small details, like plaster molding and blown-glass door handles, that cost a fortune back home.
When Linda’d seen pictures of places like this—screenies showing trillionaire lifestyles—she’d never really believed they existed. She’d assumed they were fantasies generated by sophisticated AI.
…Russell was great at his job. But was he this great? Was anyone?
She breathed, practically high off the sweet, clean air (it was so fresh!), and pictured her family in this big house, walking from room to room, laughing. They could host plenty of dinner parties. The kids could invite scores of friends to basement sleepovers. With all that company, she’d keep the fridge permanently stocked and she’d never have to say: Sorry, no milk this month; no fruit this week; it’s all cans until the farm shipments arrive, because they lived on the farm. It was all here.
Their tour ended with the underground shelter. There were six entrances across town. The access point Zach chose was at the lip of Caladrius Park.
They climbed down a stone staircase, where Zach pressed his palm against a steel door. It opened, leading to a wider, grander set of stairs with bright motion lights that tripped as they walked down, down, down, until her ears popped.
“Cave-in is impossible,” he said, as if reading her mind. “This structure is meant to survive a ten-kilometer-wide asteroid. It’s stronger than Offutt Air Force Base. Better funded, too.”
The landing brought them into the Labyrinth, a five-kilometer network of winding tunnels that ran the perimeter of the actual shelter. To defend against invaders, walls moved and tunnels led to dead ends. You had to know your way to penetrate the belly of the place.
They walked a long stone hall until they came to a crossroad. Looking in any direction, each crossroad led to another crossroad. Labyrinthine was accurate. It would be easy to get very lost.
“Watch,” Zach said. He pushed his hand against the wall. Like footage of high-speed cell proliferation, a glinting, handle-like protrusion birthed from the stone. Zach pulled on that. A four-by-four strip of wall separated from its base. He let them through, and the wall closed behind them, blending utterly.
“Super cool, right?” Zach asked the twins with put-on excitement. It’s hard to get your tone right when talking to a teenager. They smell phony like a gas leak. He didn’t get it right.
“Kinda, yeah,” Josie said. “Unless we’re trapped and die here.”
It was cheerier now that they were past the defensive shell and inside the actual shelter. The floors were Spanish tile, the air dry, the soft lights following their movements like flowers in bloom.
“Is this technology using intuitive biometrics?” Hip asked.
Linda had never heard of intuitive biometrics. The world moved fast, and it should not have surprised her that her son knew something she did not. And yet, every time this kind of thing happened with either of her kids, she wondered: Where had they learned this? What was the shape of this future they were about to inherit, and would it be very different from the present she inhabited?
“Exactly!” Zach said. “You’d do well here to study that, by the way. We always need engineers. This shelter is the only place in PV where dayworkers aren’t permitted. That means we have our executives and our scientists—the best of BetterWorld—but we also need nuclear engineers, biotech specialists, architects, and even plumbers and sanitation specialists. There’s something for everyone. This doesn’t just have to be a buy-in for Russell Bowen. It can be a buy-in for your whole family.”
They toured the shelter’s various amenities: two libraries, several gymnasiums and lecture halls, and a sustainable garden. The bathing areas were communal, and the bathrooms were the European style, using little water, and connected to sewer pipes that funneled into a large tank with a bilge pump that pushed its contents to the surface. They also passed through the barracks: deep round rooms with spacious bunks, and an enormous kitchen, painted light blue and equipped with giant industrial ovens whose vents made a complicated architecture along the ceiling. Entire rooms on either side of it were stocked with canned and frozen goods.
“This is the showstopper,” Zach announced as they came to another set of stairs, going down, down, down, for what looked like a half kilometer. The landing was open, but she could see metal pipework down there, and more tunneling. She was relieved when Zach pointed instead of descending. A day of touring had mashed her leg muscles into cooked spaghetti. It wasn’t so much the exercise, which she was used to, as being on someone else’s schedule; having to act cheerful and enthused was exhausting.
“There are three nuclear reactors built for the sole purpose of transmuting radioactive particles in North America. These absorb and stabilize radioactive nuclei. In other words, they reverse the harmful effects of nuclear radiation. We have one such reactor. Fat Bird is online and standing by. No matter what happens outside this town, Plymouth Valley will survive.”
“You’re kidding. That’s a nuclear reactor?” Linda asked as she peered over the railing and down.
“A mini one. In the event of ambient radiation, we’re safe. In the event of a direct hit, we’re still safe. Though we’d have to live down here for a lot longer than any of us would like.”
“How long?”
“I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but it would take twenty-five years to clean the Bell Jar. We could surface before that, but the snow would be neon green.”
Back home, the streams shrieked all the time about nuclear disaster. She’d never allowed herself to worry about it. The whole idea was too scary. Now, she gave it real consideration. In the chaos of the Great Unwinding, no one was watching the nukes. No one was safeguarding the reactors out in Asia or Pennsylvania, and making sure they didn’t leak now, or in transport to the bottoms of mountains, upon decommission. Leaks had happened in Nevada. In New Mexico, too. As for Tehran, it was uninhabitable.
“Don’t let me scare you. We hope never to use it,” Zach said, patting the stone leading down with pride.
“Right,” she said. But a survivor shelter industry had emerged over the last few decades. Companies had them and rich people had them and some families even pooled all their money together to reserve single spots, as if these places were Noah’s Ark, and they needed at least one of their own to survive… Would people really spend trillions on something they’d never use?
“We’ll cast shadows for eternity,” Hip said in that awed way kids have, when they’re too young to know the apocalypse isn’t cool. They think they’ll survive it, and from the wreckage learn kung fu.
“What shadows?” Linda asked.
“When it hits,” Hip said. “Our bodies’ll melt against the walls. We’ll cast shadows for eternity… Or until the octopus robots scrape us off and throw us away.”
“You wish,” Josie said. “We’ll be vaporized. Atomized. Sub-atomized. Silicone life-forms from the fifth dimension’ll be breathing us from colonies on the moon.”
“Your father and I’ve kept you safe for more than fifteen years,” Linda said. “Inside or outside, there isn’t going to be a bomb. Stop saying that.”
“Totally will,” they said at the same time.
“There might,” Zach conceded.
Linda looked down into the darkness. Something looked back with beady eyes. It was lighter than the pitch, its movement slow, its size gargantuan. Fear lit up her hind brain like a pinball hitting jackpot.
“What is that?” she asked as she reared, arms extended to hold Hip and Josie back.
“What is what?” Zach asked.
“There’s something down there.”
Making prayer hands, Zach grinned with fascination as he leaned over the metal railing. “I don’t see anything.”
“It was moving,” Linda said.
“Maybe a bird or two. They wander in sometimes.”
Linda peered into the grim. “The caladrius?”
“They sneak down during festivals. It’s perfectly safe. We’ve put up electrical fencing around the reactor to keep them out.”
“It was big, though. Huge.”
“I don’t know what else it could be,” Zach answered with a note of impatience.
“My mom has a big imagination,” Hip said.
“She really does,” Josie agreed.
Linda watched the dark. It was still now. Nothing there.
They lingered, Zach delighted by the grand architecture, Linda wondering whether this shelter’s cold, dead walls would one day nourish the last pocket of humanity. Then they were heading out through turns and winding halls. Zach talked. Linda pretended to listen. On her mind was the thing in the dark.
Surely her kids were right. She’d imagined it. Even so, its beady eyes had seemed intelligent. Knowing.
“Hollow’s tenets are three-pronged: First, through good works, we recognize the disparity between our little town and the outside world. Omnium is a good work, but we also contribute to charity.
“Our second prong is ceremony. Each residence is equipped with at least one Hollow altar, where residents offer tokens of gratitude. This is optional. The four Hollow-based festivals are mandatory. These take place on Beltane, Samhain, Thanksgiving, and at the Plymouth Valley Winter Festival. We bunch them around the cold months to keep things interesting. You’ll especially like the Winter Festival,” he said, directing this last comment to the kids. “It’s the best party on earth.
“Hollow’s final prong is the feeding and caring for our caladrius. When they’re sick, we nurse them. When they’re cold, we ensure their roost is properly insulated. Circle of life. To cull the population, we sacrifice them regularly, particularly for our town-wide feasts. They’re delicious. You can eat the eggs any time, too.
“There’s more to Hollow, but it’s not worth getting into.” When he saw her worried expression (Not worth getting into? Had she done something to hurt their chances?), he added, “People learn through experience. That’s the best way.”
“Right,” she said. “We hope we get to be a part of it!”
Linda watched closely as Zach pressed his hand against the wall. She now saw a faint seam. It looked like a spiderweb crack, only the crack spread in five directions, for the placement of fingers. The handle emerged.
Then they were on the other side, in the wild Labyrinth. “Can you guess which way is out?” he asked. They each pointed in a different direction. None was correct. The stairs were straight past the crossroads and then left. They walked up, up, up. Her ears popped again. As soon as they saw sky, the kids ran ahead, grateful, she suspected, to be out from that covered place and in the open.
“What do you think?” Zach asked.
“Incredible,” Linda said.
“Overwhelming?” Zach asked.
Linda considered buttering him: This is the town of my dreams! It’s the best place in the world! I’m not freaked out at all! But despite the clown outfit and the greasy personality, he seemed smarter than that. Or maybe smarter wasn’t the word. Cunning. More cunning. “Yes, it’s a fantasy. Perfect in every way. But overwhelming for that reason, too.”
“You understand that we don’t let people tour. Certainly not entire families unless we’re already prepared to make an offer.”
Linda waited, her breath caught in her throat.
“You’re a fine family. The kind we look for, to create a little variety, but not too much variety. Your husband will be offered the position.”
The kids were laughing now, each on one end of a seesaw, threatening to make the other go flying. It was heartening to see them acting so free. Back home, she didn’t let them out. It was school and home and don’t talk to strangers.
“I’m so grateful,” she said.
“Is there anything holding you back?” Zach asked.
“No,” Linda said. “We’re in.”
For the first time, Zach cut the bullshit. She saw it happen on his face, in his demeanor. His posture slackened. His voice became less grand and more like that of someone she’d once met on a nearby barstool, during her wild days. “Seriously, Linda. This town doesn’t work for everyone. We follow Hollow. We believe in community. Acclimation that whole first year can be grueling. If you don’t want to commit to all that, this isn’t for you.”
She could tell him that they had nothing else. She could tell him that compared to outside, this place was a literal paradise and they both knew it. But she kept it short. “We want this. Very much.”
“Wonderful. Interview over. I told you it would be painless!” Zach said, clasping her hand between his lotion-soft fingers. “Welcome to Plymouth Valley!”
* * *
That weekend in Plymouth Valley was the vacation they’d all needed. They swam in the Omnium River near the old mill and ate like horses. As if their bodies were healing from poison—which, given the particulate content of New York’s air, seemed likely—they slept like the dead. She and Russell had sex for the first time in weeks, and it wasn’t the itch-scratching kind; it was luscious.
Because their assigned house wasn’t yet ready, they stayed at one of the guesthouses on the farm. After supper, she and Russell went for a walk. The sky went vivid red as the sun set.
“Well?” he asked.
“It’s storybook.”
“They want us in two weeks. I think that’s enough time. Don’t you? We’d need to get here before school starts, anyway.”
“Are we absolutely sure this is the right thing?” she asked.
“Even if we could have our old life back, my job, would you want it, after seeing all this?”
She looked out at the sun, which in that short time had sunk behind the wall, leaving the farm awash in a sullen afterglow. “No.”
For this first time that she could remember, Russell got down on his knees. He was wearing his usual pleated trousers, a button-down shirt. “It’s a house with stairs. It’s fresh air and the best schools, the best everything.”
Of course we’ll move, she wanted to say, and she knew that they would. It was logical. Inevitable, even. But she was thinking of the shadow down in the tunnels; it had felt so knowing and real. She was thinking of Jack, who’d avoided looking at their apartment, under the false assumption that his eyes on the detritus of their messy lives ought to cause them shame.
“I know I haven’t done the things I was supposed to do, partner-wise,” he said. “I’ve left a lot on your shoulders and maybe I should have asked. I should have asked. I know that now… I understand why you wanted that divorce when they were little. I get it, now,” he said, like he was forgiving her for something. He was being the bigger person. “But it worked out for the best. You did good with them. The kids. I love you and I want us to survive. I want our family to survive. We need this.”
Russell was not a communicator. She’d been hoping for something, anything, like this, for a long time.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hot breath pressing into her groin. “This can be a fresh start. We’ll be different. Better. Like we used to be.”
She wanted to believe these words and was glad he’d said them. They were pretty. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I know I should just be happy about this. I’d be crazy not to be overjoyed, and I am overjoyed. But there’s something about this town that frightens me,” she said, realizing just then that it was true. “I mean, the big house. The free everything? I can live with Hollow. The parties sound like fun and I’m happy to feed some ugly chickens. But doesn’t it feel like there’s a catch, here? Like it’s too good to be true?”
“It is too good to be true,” he said. “There’s always a catch.”
“But what is it?”
He looked at the place where the sun had fallen. “I don’t know. They say the first year’s the hardest, but they’ve assured me that so long as I do the job, we’ll pass the review.”
“So long as we’re a good fit. It’s a little ominous, isn’t it?”
“They seem to like us.”
“Do we like them?”
“Does it matter?” he asked. “It’s like those old game shows: a prize behind a door. Do we take the cash that won’t last us six months, or do we trade it for whatever’s behind door number two?”
She shrugged, knowing the answer but still uncertain.
“I wanted this my whole life,” Russell continued. “A company town. Can you imagine if my dad was still alive? This is probably the one thing that might have made him like me. But now that we’ve got this brass ring, I can see that we’ll lose something, too. In a way, everyone here will be our boss. They’ll have experience and connections. We won’t. That’ll be tense… My whole life is tense. I’ve always felt uncomfortable around other people. It’s probably why I got fired even though they needed me to run that department—”
“No—” Linda started to interrupt, but Russell stopped her.
“—I’m not good with people. I know that. You don’t have to protect me from it. I know I wasn’t popular over at the EPA… Around here, they don’t seem to care about whether I go out for drinks or crack the right kinds of jokes. They care about the work. It’ll be fine for me. Better than home. You’re the one who’ll need to adjust. You like your friends. You like mouthing off.”
She felt no need to defend herself. She knew it wasn’t an insult. She did like her friends. She did like mouthing off.
“…But in the end, I don’t think any of that will be a problem. We’ll get used to it. I know Jack’s a cold fish, and from what I saw of Zach, he wasn’t great, either. But the guys in my department were okay. I think the people who live and work in this town aren’t so different from us. You’ll find your friends. I’ll… I’ll work. We’ll feel good, physically. We’ll eat well. It’s unfortunate that this place is so cut off that we’ll never be able to have visitors. But very quickly, I think you’ll forget what’s left behind. We all will. That’s the trade-off. For you more than me. We’ll become the kinds of people who live behind walls.”
