BackTrek (31 page)

His task required him to look through a
tabletop mounted viewfinder and inspect high speed streams of
highly magnified particles as they trailed across the lens from
left to right. With a black background, most of the streaming
particles were colored a dull green, or muted red, and occasionally
a burnt yellow. But once in a while, a particle would glow a bright
blue, similar to the mesmerizing blue glow from the plague
scanners. It was these particles that his task required him to
locate. Once located, he simply had to tag it, and it would be
retrieved at the next station. To tag it, he only had to press a
button. One of the many buttons mounted in the tabletop, which
correlated to the location, direction and speed of the target
particle. But it was this hand-eye coordination that made his task
unique, as it required more than a constant watch of the stream, or
quick reaction to having located the target particle, or even the
ability to hit the correct button within the allowed time frame. It
required an intuition of a sort. It required the ability to
anticipate where the particle would be a microsecond later than
when the button would actually be pushed.

When he had first received this assignment,
it was understood that it was as a test. Everyone knew that only a
few were capable of the intuitive aspect of this task. Many were
assigned, and many were quickly reassigned. Few were as capable as
Jericho, and few could stay at it as long as he had. Apparently for
some who could master the technique required, the long hours of
intense concentration began to erode their sanity. Though he had
not seen it first hand, he had heard the story of an earlier
operator at his station that after years of successful work had one
day come unwound. Having missed a target particle once and a while
was to be expected, even for a skilled operator, but this
particular day the female operator had missed over five particles
prior to the mid-day meal. The Guardian that always stood silently
behind the line of operators was said to have moved closer and
closer towards the operator that was having trouble, and had
remained nearby when she had returned from the mid-day meal. Almost
immediately incorrect particles were being tagged, and target
particles missed, and the Guardian had approached the operator with
a warning.

“Failure is not allowed.” The emotionless
mechanical voice had said. Already nervous, as she sweated
profusely, her hands had begun to shake. Then again, she missed a
target particle. She had turned quickly to steal a glance at the
close but immobile Guardian, and missed yet another target
particle. In one quick motion, it was said that the Guardian drew
and touched her with its control stick, caught her before she hit
the ground, and slung her over its shoulder and exited the room.
Moments later it had returned and escorted the new operator to the
station. That operator had been Jericho.

After having heard that tale some time after
he had mastered his task, he was quite nervous of the Guardian that
stood behind his station. It never moved or spoke, but it always
watched as it just stood there, as if it patiently waited for him
to make a mistake. And truly, the first few shifts after having
heard the story, he actually did miss a particle or two, and when
it happened, he could feel his heart beat speed up, his respiration
increase, and sweat begin to bead on his brow. But he would refocus
on his task and that, in and of itself would relax him, and he
would fall back into that intuitive predictive rhythm that made him
so good at what he did.

The mid-day meal would be soon, and he
couldn’t wait to see Gabrielle again. To see her smile, hear her
laugh, and just to smell her scent. He knew that he was in love,
and he relished every moment of it. Even as he watched the
non-target particles stream through the lens, he could think only
of Gabrielle. When the mid-day meal tone finally sounded, Jericho
was beside himself with delight. He rushed from his station and
soon approached the meal room, and he ran past many of his
coworkers to get in line. Since his station was located near the
rear of the factory, again, as usual, he had to wait. Then he saw
her, near the front of the line, at least fifty people away.

“Gabrielle! Back here!” He yelled. She turned
and waived.

“Jericho! What took you so long?” She
asked.

“Same thing, as always!” He replied. He
wished that she would come back to him, but he knew that it was
strictly forbidden. Once in a line, you had to stay put. That was
the rule.

“I’ll save a place for you inside!” She
yelled, and he nodded his reply. She turned back towards the front
of the line as it moved forward.

“So that’s your boyfriend!” Donovan said to
Gabrielle, as he intentionally bumped into her while moving forward
in line.

“Maybe. It’s none of your business, Donovan.”
She replied as she tried to ignore him.

“Bad choice, Gabrielle. He’s nothing but
trouble.” He said as her began to twirl her hair around his finger.
The Guardian at the entrance to the meal room stood motionless, and
appeared not to notice that he had touched her while in line.

“Stop it!” She exclaimed as she pulled her
hair away from him. “I suppose you mean that he’s nothing like
you?” She asked.

“Exactly!” Donovan replied, as his chest
swelled with pride and he once again began to twirl her hair around
his finger.

“Good, because I think you’re stupid!”
Gabrielle said with a sharp smile on her face, as she snatched her
hair back from him again. Donovan was physically taken back by her
comment. He reached up and took a handful of her hair in his hand
and yanked down.

“Ow!” Gabrielle screamed, and whirled around
to face him. Her hand shot out and slapped him across the face
before she even realized what had happened. Donovan reacted and
pushed her hard with both hands. As she fell to the ground, she
tried to balance herself, but fell onto the hard floor. When she
landed, she was stunned, and then began to cry. Donovan laughed as
if it was the funniest thing that he had ever seen. He was still
laughing as Jericho slammed into him from behind. Together, a
tangle of arms and legs, they pitched forward and knocked several
other people out of line. Jericho had Donovan by the hair and began
to repeatedly slam Donovan’s face onto the floor.

He never even felt the touch of the
Guardian’s control stick, until it brought on a sizzling seizure of
pain throughout his entire body. He fell to the ground as he
writhed in pain, and even as his eyes began to roll up into his
head, he could see the Guardian as it stood over him, and held the
control stick. As his vision faded he did not realize that his
bladder had let go, as his body still jerked uncontrollably from
that slightest touch of the control stick. He did not hear
Gabrielle’s screams, nor did he hear the raspy gargled moans from
Donavan as he too was incapacitated by another Guardian. He did not
hear the screams of the others in line as they tried desperately to
not be included in the altercation, or to be picked out by the
Guardians for control. He did not know the convulsions had stopped.
He did not feel the cold hard floor beneath him, as he lay in a
puddle of his own urine. He did not hear, nor feel, nor dream. He
did not even know that he no longer breathed.

Gabrielle walked past the younger children as
they played in the cramped, dimly lit stairway, as she made her way
to the fifth floor where Jericho’s family lived. Though her mind
was preoccupied with her concern over Jericho, she could not help
but notice as the smallest one stood tall and tried to pretend that
he was the same age as all the rest, when in fact he was barely old
enough to walk. As she stepped past them, an older boy tossed a
handful of pebble sized glistening white stones on the dirty
landing of the stairway, as the other children looked on.

“Yep!” The older boy said. His stringy hair
hung down on one side of his dirt smudged face. “You’re gonna get
it. See?” He said as he pointed his dirty hand towards the
haphazard pattern created by the stones. “That’s what it means. My
mom knows how to tell when, but I can just tell if you’re gonna get
it. Sorry Bonita, but the stones don’t lie. You’re gonna get it.”
He said with a solemn look on his face. The little blonde haired
girl next to him looked broken hearted as a single tear streamed
down her dirt smudged face and her lip trembled slightly while she
stared intently at the array of white stones that lay at her
feet.

“Do me next, Jerry! Do me!” A small curly
haired girl said as she put her hand on Bonita’s back to comfort
her, as she left her smaller brother, the smallest of the group to
stand alone.

“Are you sure?” Jerry asked. You might not
want to know.”

“No, Sissie!” Exclaimed the littlest one from
his position at the back, no longer concerned whether or not he was
as big as the rest. His chin quivered as his tears began to flow.
It was obvious to Gabrielle that he had no desire to find out if
his big sister would ever get the plague. Gabrielle didn’t blame
him. She felt sure that no one really wanted to know.

Carefully she made her way around them in the
tight stairway, but dared not interrupt. Even as a child, she too
had played this game. But now, years later, knew it to be all too
real to call it a sham. Whether or not the special white stones
told any truth, she could not say, but growing up here required the
internal strength to face the obvious if not inevitable. At some
point in time, everyone would get it. Throughout her life she
couldn’t count the number of people that she knew, that she had
laughed with, cried with, and even loved, that had finally got it.
They were all taken away to quarantine, never to be seen again.
They had all, one by one, gotten the plague.

Once she passed the children her mind turned
back to why she was there, as she climbed the stairs. She knew that
Jericho’s father worked the dark shift at the factory and that he
would still be asleep, and would have no idea the Jericho had been
controlled. She also knew that Jericho’s younger sister would
already be home, now that evening mealtime for the day shift had
passed, and unless she had seen the incident earlier, she would
have no idea why Jericho was not home. She had to let Jericho’s
family know what had happened, and that she felt partially
responsible. She whispered to herself, as she tried to control her
emotions, she again rehearsed what she would say when she saw their
compartment door open.

“Jericho was controlled, but it wasn’t his
fault.” She said to herself for the hundredth time. She continued
to rehearse her words as she climbed stair after stair, and fought
back the tears that tried to surface. Living on the eighth floor
herself, only a few blocks away, she was well accustomed to having
to climb stairs. Even though it was tremendously hot in the
stairway, she had yet to break a sweat. This stairway had
ventilation ports on every other floor, and if you stood on your
tiptoes you could see through to the adjacent building’s stone
exterior. She remembered the first time that she had looked out of
one of the ports, how amazed she had been at how close the
buildings seemed from this far up.

She reached the landing on the fifth floor,
and hesitated briefly at the stairway door, before she opened it
and walked down the narrow hallway to the compartment where Jericho
lived. As she stood in front of the door, she mustered her courage
to knock, but did so softly so as not to wake his father. Seconds
turned into an eternity as she waited for some response. She raised
her hand to knock again, when suddenly the view port slid
sideways.

“Shh!” Rebecca, Jericho’s sister said with a
frown. Then as she realized that it was Gabrielle at the door, her
frown turned into a smile. “Hey!” She whispered excitedly. “Come on
in!” As she closed the view port and began to negotiate the series
of locks on the inside of the door. Gabrielle swallowed nervously
as she waited. As the door opened up, she stepped quietly past
Rebecca, into the tiny living area of the compartment. In each
direction, it was barely wide enough for someone to lie down. One
wall contained the door with its numerous locks, on the wall to the
right ran a low seat, the full length of the wall. The remaining
two walls were bare, colored the same grey color as the clothes
that they wore. Rebecca leaned into the hallway and looked first
down one side and then back up the other, before she pulled herself
inside and shut the door.

“Where’s Jericho?” She said as she once again
negotiated the locks on the inside of the door. “When I didn’t see
him at mealtime, I thought that he was with you.” Gabrielle took a
deep breath to calm herself.

“He’s been controlled. But it wasn’t-”
Gabrielle erupted into tears.

“Controlled? What? Jericho? Are you sure?”
Rebecca’s eyes were wide as the words began to sink in. She knew
what controlled meant. And it was something that had never happened
to Jericho. “What on earth did he do?” Rebecca managed to ask in
disbelief.

“Nothing.” Gabrielle choked out between sobs.
“I mean, he really didn’t do anything. It wasn’t his-” She
began.

“Oh, Jericho! What are we going to do? Is he
okay?” She looked to Gabrielle for answers, as tears began to erupt
in her own eyes. “Gabby, he’s okay, right?” The tears had begun to
flow, and her voice became hard to understand. “Gabby?”

“I don’t know!” Gabrielle was able to blurt
out between sobs. “I don’t know. He was there, and he had
Donavan-”

“Was it his fault? Donavan’s?” Rebecca asked
between her own sobs. Gabrielle nodded her head in acknowledgment,
as she still cried.

“That bastard!” Rebecca exclaimed.

“And then the Guardian was there, and then
Jericho…then Jericho-” She couldn’t continue, the pain of it all
was so overwhelming.