Dark World: The Surface Girl (11 page)

              I wished I had that kind of innocence and blind faith again. It wasn't that I didn't believe in his love or his desire to protect me, but I was old enough to know that there were things he could not protect me from. I first learned this at age ten when the flatfoots took Grandpa Logan away, but today had been filled with even more grim lessons. Dad was still here for me, but he was afraid. He was afraid
for
me which solidified the fact that I could no longer view him as my protector. What if the flatfoots came to take me away, but they didn't know about him? Would his love for me override his acceptance of the apparently inevitable power the flatfoots and government had and would he leap after me the way I had tried to leap after Grandpa Logan, or would he sit on his chair, still as a statue with his eyes downcast as they dragged me away screaming? Part of me suspected I was a horrible person for wondering that. Was I an inadequate daughter to doubt my dad in that way or was I simply being a realist?

              Dad turned from me and carefully opened the bathroom door. After one sad glance at me over his shoulder, he walked out into the hall. I followed. “Goodnight Ruby,” he said softly without turning around.
              “Goodnight, Dad.” I watched him enter the chambers he shared with my mother, but he came out again a moment later with a blanket and a pillow. I thought it was a bit silly for him to start sleeping apart from her tonight, if the cold he was carrying was passed to either one of us, we probably already had it by now. This action was probably more for peace of mind than for realistic precaution. I turned on the balls of my feet and trudged back to my own chambers. I closed the door. I leaned against it as trembles careened through my body like a seizure. More tears poured out of my eyes like the way Grandpa had described a waterfall. I brought my hands up to cover my nose and mouth, using my palms to muffle my sobs. When I woke up this morning I had been dreading meeting Connor. I couldn't have possibly known that things were going to get ten times more complicated than that.
              I grasped the thin material of my special dress and tried to yank it over my shoulders but I had forgotten about the clasps. I reached behind myself and felt around with my fingers, pushing, pulling, trying to undo them until I heard something snap. I probably broke it but what did it matter, I would never wear this dress again. This was strictly a one-night garment. I yanked it over my head and threw it at the wall.

              Stupid dress.
             
Part of me knew it was irrational to blame the dress for all of the crazy, unexpected, life-changing twists today had thrown at me, but I had to direct my confusion, anger and sadness somewhere. I pulled one of my regulation shirts and the matching slacks out of my closet and forcefully yanked them over my body. I was oddly glad to feel the thicker, harsher fabric against my skin because although I had spent most of my life wishing for change and freedom, at this moment it seemed strangely comforting to feel some kind of familiarity. I curled up on my bed and brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them the way I often did when the government systematically lowered the temperature in The Complex a few degrees to simulate a surface “season” called “winter.” I wasn't cold tonight but I still felt the urge to squeeze my body into the tiniest ball that I could manage. I laced my fingers together and closed my eyes. I expected sleep to provide a very swift escape for me but instead, the worms moving through the thick soil of my mind began to squirm with even more unwanted tenacity.
              How did my father think that never seeing Reese again was a realistic possibility for me? We lived in the same division and even had a few of the same classes. Was I supposed to turn my back every time he spoke to me? Was I expected to ask my teachers never to pair me with him? How would I even explain that, in theory? Stepping away from the logistics of it all,
how
was I supposed to turn away from him?

              Why was life such a bitter disappointment? I had daydreamed secretly for months about Reese, and I wished on every star I had ever imagined someday being able to see that he felt the same way about me that I felt about him. If there was even a chance that his kiss was anything more than a desperate way to distract me from my panic attack, my wish came true, but it did not bring me joy nor relief. If I hadn't spilled my secret to my father would I still be able to see Reese? Would we ever get the chance to face what happened between us, or was that chance now as assuringly gone as a candle flame once the wax was all burned away?

              My body continued to shake with nearly silent sobs and I pressed my chin down into my knees. Was everything going to change now that we knew the surface was breathable? Maybe those who were sent on the missions didn’t know, either. Maybe they were sent into space without having the chance to actually explore Earth. I obviously wasn't sure about any of the details of those who were sent on missions... no one was. The whole program was top secret except for the knowledge that it existed and the announcement every five years that another shuttle was being launched.
              If I could wake up tomorrow and make different choices, would I? What if I had ignored Reese's message that he had given to Willow? There would be so many things I would be blissfully unaware of. I never would have done something forbidden. I never would have met the strange little girl that lived on the surface. I wouldn't know that my father was a part of a secret Order who didn't trust the government. Reese wouldn't have kissed me. I still would have been forced to meet Connor but maybe I would have been more interested in hearing him talk about himself if I didn't have all of these other alarming events tugging at my brain like small children all demanding my complete attention. I would still be laying here sad, but I would be in less inner turmoil.

              My thoughts drifted back to my father. He was a different man than the one I had known for the first sixteen years of my life. How had I not realized that we shared the same unsettled mind? I had always assumed that I got my curious nature directly from Grandpa Logan because he was the one who told me stories about the surface and encouraged me to be inquisitive, but what if my curiosity was more biological than environmentally influenced? Had Grandpa Logan known about my dad's suspicions about the government? How long had Dad been in the Order? How long had the Order actually existed? Who else was in the Order? Anyone that I knew? Probably, since Rhode Island was a very small division.
              I tossed and turned and then paused to untangle the sheet from my legs. My eyelids were as heavy as stones but my brain was firing a mile a minute. Sleep verses thought, it was an epic battle but I suspected sleep would prevail in the end.

              I could feel an oncoming dream trying to clear away the spiderweb of thoughts from spreading further into the corners of my brain. Images began to form behind the black of my closed lids, and although they weren't images I wanted at the moment, I was too far gone to try and stop them. Out rushed reality and in rushed dreamland to replace the void that reality had left behind.

Chapter 5

              I woke up in the morning without the assistance of an alarm, but since I was confined to my barracks I had no particular reason to force myself to rise early. I closed my eyes again and rested my head back down on my pillow but sleep refused to return despite my body still feeling sluggish and heavy. Giving up on sleep but still unwilling to drag myself out of bed, I opened my eyes and stared longingly at the ceiling. When I was a child I used to gaze at my ceiling and pretend that I was looking up at the night sky. Did stars really twinkle? Was it true that the stars people saw didn't even exist by the time they could be seen because of how long it took their light to travel the distance to Earth? Science about our planet and about space was endlessly mysterious and fascinating to me.

              Grandpa Logan had described the sky as light blue during the day and all sorts of changing colors during dawn and twilight. Night was supposedly a very deep blue, so deep that it was almost black and yet at the same time, the sky itself was clear. I would say “Grandpa, that doesn’t make sense! Something can't have color and be clear at the same time!” He would chuckle, pat me on the head affectionately and tell me that there was no way I would be able to understand unless I saw the sky for myself someday. The closest thing I had was my ceiling and my imagination. I would try to picture where the stars might be. Maybe there was a big cluster of them over to the right, and just one star to the left. Maybe there was another planet between the stars but since it was so dark our eyes would never know it was there. Were the stars in different places each night? Since our planet moved so much slower on its axis than it used to, we measured time by counting the days (365 per year except for one extra day during leap year) but how slow were we actually drifting? Was time only a perception based on previous B-I science? Did it actually have any meaning at all anymore?

              I sighed. Why did I have to turn nice, simple thoughts like imagining what stars look like into something existential and depressing? I supposed I knew too much now to daydream about happy things without knowing that there was no such thing as a good thing that did not coexist with a bad thing. Accepting the inevitability of bad things pulled my feet back down to the ground like magnified gravity.

              I pushed my sheet back and slid my legs over the bed to stand. I stretched my arms over my head. My body still felt unusually heavy. I curled my toes against the floor and shook some of my messed up hair out of my face. I wished I could just sleep this whole day away, and then the next, and not wake up until confinement was over and I was sure my family and I were safe. But I knew that after yesterday, I would never be able to be sure of that.

              The scent of banana bread tickled my nostrils. I quietly exited my chambers and peeked my head around the corner into the kitchen. Mom was standing in front of the juicer with a few oranges. YES, we had oranges! A bonus of Dad working in the artificial gardens is that we could sometimes get fruits that we did not grow in our particular division. Orange juice happened to be my favorite morning drink, but it was a rare treat. I slipped into a chair and Mom set a glass of juice in front of me with a warm, welcoming smile. Suddenly this felt like a morning no different than any other. In minutes I would have warm-from-the-oven banana bread to go with my juice and Mom would probably let me know what sort of harmless gossip she might hear today from the other woman in the sewing rooms – except, she couldn’t go to the sewing rooms today because we were all under confinement. My momentarily unburdened smile faded. Well... at least I had a chance to feel normal for thirty seconds or so. How ironic that normality brought comfort to me when it usually felt like my prison.

              Dad entered the kitchen a moment later. He said nothing to me, but walked over to Mom and leaned forward as if intending to give her a kiss on the cheek. Usually she would welcome it but today she held out her palm and pushed him away. “Not today Robert, not until your nasopharyngitis is completely cleared up. I don’t want to risk it.” He sighed softly but didn't argue with her. He sat down on the chair next to mine. I avoided looking at him and took another sip of my juice.

              “So,” Dad began rather loudly as he leaned forward in his chair. “Since we're on confinement, I thought we'd take the opportunity to spend some time together as a family. Remember the family days we used to have, Ruby?” I remembered. We had them every week when Grandpa Logan was still with us. We would gather in the living room and play cards or board games and engage in lighthearted conversation. The problem now was that no conversation was going to feel lighthearted and I didn’t know if I had the strength to pretend otherwise.

              “Yeah, but I'm tired Dad, I'm not sure if I'm up for a family day. I might just study or read in my chambers.” Crap, I said the wrong thing. Mom was at my side in seconds.
              “Do you not feel well? Do you have a fever? Stuffy nose? Headache?” Her palm immediately pressed on my forehead as she hovered over me in an unintentionally invasive manner. I purposely refrained from pointing out that a minute ago, she had pushed Dad away from her because of his nasopharyngitis, but worrying that I may have caught it as well did not stop her from being near me. I quickly shook my head and squirmed away.

              “Stop, I feel fine! Yesterday was just a long day and it took me a while to fall asleep last night. That's all, I promise.” The crease on her brow let me know that she wasn’t fully convinced, but she pressed her lips together and seemed to resist pestering me further. I was relieved but I tried not to let my face show it.

              “Well, I think your father is right. We do need to spend some time together as a family. Especially,” she paused for a moment. “Especially because you're only with us for two more years and then you will be a married woman and we will only get to see you on visitation days.” I could see that she was upsetting herself. She dabbed at her eye with the sleeve of her shirt. I sighed softly as guilt enveloped my heart like a swaddling blanket. I caved because I didn't want to hurt her feelings or trigger her into another dissociative state.

              “Okay, okay. Family day it is.”
              I ate my banana bread and sipped my fresh-squeezed orange juice but it didn't taste like it usually did. Well, that probably wasn't true, it was just that this was the first time I actually paused to think about what it tasted like. All fruits and vegetables were grown under artificial lights and pumped full of artificial supernutrients, but did they taste the same as they used to on Earth where they used to be able to grow under natural sunlight? I found myself wondering if orange juice from a “real” orange was stronger, sweeter, or did it have a different taste altogether? I halfheartedly finished my juice and raised an eyebrow as I wondered if I would ever get to taste a real orange, and for the first time in my life, I internally responded to my own thought with

             
maybe.

             
I followed my parents into the living room. Dad opened a cupboard and pulled out an old board game we used to enjoy called JOB SWITCH. It had been specially made after I was born. We each had our own game piece. A little girl figurine was supposed to represent me, a man figurine represented my father and a woman figurine represented my mother. We left the second male figurine in the box, it used to represent Grandpa Logan. There was a dial in the middle of the board and a pile of cards. First, you spun the dial. Whatever it landed on became your initial career. You moved your figurine to the circle that said the title of your career. After everyone was in a box, you picked a card. The card would either praise you on a job well done in which case you stay in your initial box, or it would force you to change careers. You had to move your figurine to the new career box, but that left your initial (or latest) career box empty. If it was already taken, you had to share the box but then there was no one to do your old job. You placed the card in a new pile. You kept going until there were no more career cards. Then you picked up the pile of discarded cards and read each career that no one has and you had to explain what would happen in The Complex if there was no one doing that job. The game was supposed to teach us about the different career options and how and why each career is vital within The Complex to the maintained survival of the human race, and also why we needed to continue to breed so there were enough people to do every job.

              I could not have been less interested in playing this game. Where was the card for “Goes against Doctrine in secret and finds a little girl whose very existence might prove that the government has been lying to us?” Where was the card for “Life may be sustainable outside of The Complex after all?”
              My mind refused to stop worrying about the little girl. I was terrified at the idea of her being discovered by a flatfoot or another government official. If that happened, they would put her to sleep for sure. I doubted they would even put out any type of alert or elicit a lockdown because they probably wouldn’t want us to know anything at all. We might start asking questions that they did not want to answer.
              Would Reese have gone back to find the girl and help her? He wouldn't have left her to fend for herself, right? But if he
had
gone back and helped her and they had been caught, he would be put to sleep immediately right along with her! Would the government tell us anything then or would they concoct a false story to explain his death? For that matter, what if my mom's fears about her own mother were actually substantiated? I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would somehow quiet the screaming questions bouncing around relentlessly within the grey matter between my ears. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Reese. I was torn down the middle, half of me wanted Reese to help the girl because she was just a child, alone and afraid but the other half of me, the selfish half, wanted him to stay as far away from her as possible. Even if I couldn't ever see him again, I wanted him to live. I wanted to hang on to even the smallest thread of hope, so small that it was a dream again rather than a hope, that someday he could kiss me again. It might be the only wish that would get me through having to inevitably kiss Connor someday... and more.

              I was a robot by the time the game continued. I got a job, then I was unemployed, then I shared work with my father, then I was unemployed again, and it went on and on like that until the cards were all gone. I glanced longingly at the door. I felt confined enough as it was being limited to a life within The Complex, but now I wasn't even allowed to leave my barracks. The living room was unbearably small, the walls obnoxiously close together. Every time I glanced at them I felt more and more anxious. Normally I would rid myself of my anxiety by taking a brisk walk, but I couldn't do that
because I couldn’t leave my barracks.
We put the board game away and Dad produced a regular deck of cards. Blackjack commenced and our conversation was minimal. Mom was lighthearted, laughing here and there after making random corny jokes. Dad was his usual quiet self and I was the obedient daughter. It made me sad that I loved my parents so fiercely and yet not a single one of us felt we could be our true selves around each other. I didn't blame them for our distance. It was The Complex, government and Doctrine that made us this way which only made me resent these things even more, if that were at all possible. They had taken EVERYTHING from me; the potential for me to have an honest relationship with my family, the possibility that I could experience love with Reese, and the obvious one, my freedom. Now that I knew the imprisonment of hundreds of people in The Complex might be for nothing, sitting in this small room swapping cards for no reward other than the supposed thrill of beating my parents seemed like the most ridiculous waste of time I could imagine.
              Just when I wasn't sure how much longer I could sit in this room without kicking down the walls, there was a knock on the door. I jumped to my feet faster than the speed of light and rushed to it eagerly, momentarily forgetting about the fact that I was under confinement. Dad was behind me in a flash. “Ruby, no!
Exposure
.” I paused in mid-leap and landed unenthusiastically back on my heels with a frustrated huff. Dad stepped ahead of me and approached the door.

              “Who is it?”
              “It's R-1004. I have some papers from work I need you to sign, to authorize the grapefruit shipments to New Hampshire and Vermont.” Dad reached behind his head and scratched at the back of his neck.

              “Ah, well, I'm under a confinement order -” Did he just say
Order
? Had his tone changed when he said it? Had he used that word on purpose? “for nasopharyngitis. Can you slip them under the door?”

              “Yeah, your guard let me know. Sorry to hear about that. The shipment sheets just need your signatures. I'll come back for them at eight AM promptly so you have time to look them over and check for errors.” There was a
guard
at the end of the hall? Was he stationed there to make sure we didn't try to leave our barracks?
Was he technically holding us captive in our own barracks?
My stomach literally turned over on itself and a wave of nausea hit me like a punch. I tried to hold back a groan of pain as I doubled forward. One of my arms curled around my stomach while the other pressed against the doorframe. Just when I thought there couldn't be any more terrifying surprises in store for me...