“Look at the breakdown over the past two weeks. I already have.”
He was right. She was coming to the realization as he said it.
“My grandmother—your great-grandmother—used to say that you can never accomplish anything but improvement.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Jacob said. “I’ve accomplished plenty.”
Madelyn shook her head. She recognized that the words didn’t mean much out of context. Her grandmother had known the exact right moment to drop her wisdom, when it would make the most impact with the least number of words. Madelyn hadn’t inherited that gift.
While she was trying to think of some way to clarify, Jacob filled the gap.
“You know, we nearly had it in Oslo,” he said. “Some city is going to follow our example and improve on it. Once a thing like that starts to work, it works everywhere.”
“I’ve heard that reasoning before. Progress often takes a giant step backwards before it can continue forward again.”
Jacob shrugged.
“Knowledge is collective,” he said.
Madelyn waved her hand. She had heard the argument too many times before. “Don’t forget—that collective knowledge works both ways. You can entrust it with our salvation, but don’t forget that it was the hammer behind the big downfall.”
Jacob shook his head, dismissing her pessimism. “Nobody knows what happened for sure.”
“Don’t say things like that,” she said. “It’s nonsense. We
all
know what happened. We might not fully understand the mechanism, but we all live with the result.”
“Same thing. It’s just semantics.”
“No,” Madelyn said. She reached out and touched his hand, like she could transfer the import of what she was saying only with skin-to-skin contact. “Listen to me—people caused this world. They were motivated by unnatural greed. People need to work to survive. The desire to keep ourselves alive with our two hands is ingrained in us. Without that fulfillment, greed can take a person over and make them do terrible things.”
“It wasn’t greed. It was the natural progression of technology. They used technology to keep themselves alive.”
“
That’s
the greed. We can’t live forever. The desire to be immortal is crazy. People need an expiration date.”
“I don’t know. You’re saying that nobody would be a good candidate for the Option? I think my dad would have made a good candidate. I think I would do okay.”
“But would you? If you had the ability to take the Option, would you?”
“Never,” Jacob said. He sneered at the idea. Even though he hadn’t been born at the time of the cull, he understood. Even now, the people who had found a way to transcend death were reviled, not revered.
“Exactly,” Madelyn said. “Anyone who isn’t a monster is disgusted by the idea. Anyone who would take the Option, shouldn’t.”
“That’s only because what happened,” Jacob said. “If they hadn’t tried to cull everyone else…”
“But they did,” Madelyn said. “It’s simple greed.”
Jacob blinked and thought. He was finding his own way to the truth. Madelyn could see it in his eyes.
“There was a man on the eighth floor,” Jacob said. “He was so skinny. People would give him extra rations because they felt bad for him. Everyone assumed that his metabolism was very high, or that he was working extra hard and his body was suffering as a result. I worked alongside him on a sewage project one time. He didn’t seem to be working very hard to me. If anything, he seemed to be weak and listless.”
Jacob scratched his cheek.
“He died finally. A crew went in to clean out his apartment and found his stores. He had enough food for years in there. All that time, he had stashed his rations and starved himself. Most of the food had spoiled. I suppose he didn’t have a way to dispose of it without revealing himself. It was quite a scandal.”
“So greedy for life that he forgot to live,” Madelyn said.
“I suppose,” Jacob said. “But it’s also possible that he was merely too guilty to admit that he didn’t want to live. Suicide was banned in the bases. Obviously, we couldn’t stop someone from walking off into danger, but there was a lot of social pressure for people to continue on. I think it’s possible that starving himself to death was his only way out.”
“When people offered him their extra rations, did he accept?”
“Yes, but that’s easy to understand. Giving up food was a great act of kindness. It made people feel good to be the recipient of such a gift. To turn it down would insult the giver. Nobody would turn down food. Maybe your monsters were the same way. Science showed them how to be immortal, so how could they resist? Isn’t it an insult to the living if you turn down an extension of your own life?”
“If something is limitless, then it has no value. You don’t understand how precious the air is until you’re under water.”
“I would trade a lot of air to have my father back.”
Madelyn pointed at his leg. “You’re thinking of your father. Cut yourself.”
Jacob shook his head. “It has healed.” He pulled up his pant leg to show her. “You said that after the scab falls off, I’m allowed to think of him again.”
“I forgot how quickly young people heal. It’s a flaw in the system.”
Jacob gave her a sad smile.
“You don’t belong here,” she said. “This place is for people who have given up on relationships. You belong down in the city with the other idealists. You could learn about what they’re doing and teach them about your experience in Oslo.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in all that.”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t.”
“Tell me something,” he said. “I understand why you might hide out up here after the healthy people started to get rounded up, but Dad said you came here long before that. Why did you do it?”
“Why would you want to live in a city?”
Jacob seemed surprised by her question. “There are people. There’s a community. You get social interaction, fun, and people watch out for each other. More eyes to keep watch so it’s safer.”
“It doesn’t seem safer.”
“What happens if you get sick or injured? You can’t count on anyone else to help you,” he said.
“I don’t need anyone else. If I die, then it was my turn to go. I don’t have to worry about someone else screwing up and leading a pack of Roamers to my door, do I?”
“That almost never happened, and we had protocol to deal with it. People standing together are strong.”
“They’re only as strong as the weakest individual. Look at what happened. Someone in one of the other bases flaked out and the chain reaction destroyed your whole city. Isn’t that right?”
“Nobody knows for sure.”
“But it’s possible, isn’t it?”
Jacob shrugged. “It’s possible. I guess you don’t understand because you’re not invested in the longterm survival of humanity. You’re not looking towards the future. It’s okay, I guess. It’s just a pretty selfish viewpoint though, if you ask me.”
“I asked you a simple question about your choice and you turned it into an attack on my character. That shows that you haven’t really given your choices the thought they deserve. You should be able to clearly articulate your decisions without lashing out at the person asking. You should work on that.”
Jacob was silent for a second. “When I asked you why you hide up here, you immediately turned the question back on me. Maybe
you
should work on
that
.”
“I sidestepped your question because you wouldn’t understand the answer,” she said. “You don’t have the life experience to fully grasp my motivations and actions.”
“Nice. You’re lashing out at me by making assumptions about what I can understand.”
Madelyn frowned. She hated it when people used her own arguments against her.
“I’m making no assumptions. This is a simple statement of fact. Until you get to the age when having children of your own is not a possibility, then you can’t understand the actions of someone who has already reached that age.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything. I don’t have children and neither do you. We have the same perspective. Besides, are you suggesting that you were too old to be fertile when you moved here? If I understand the timeline correctly, then I think you’re lying.”
“I never said any of that. We lived in different worlds with a whole range of different choices. What I’m saying is that my current perspective makes it impossible for me to communicate fully with someone of your perspective. You may not believe it, but you’re going to have to take my word for it.”
“When I was a kid, adults would say puzzling stuff to me all the time. They started with a caveat like, ‘One day you’ll understand,’ or, ‘This might not make sense to you now, but someday it will.’” Jacob fell silent and stared at Madelyn until she understood the wisdom of his example.
Madelyn took a deep breath.
“Maybe one day you’ll understand,” she said. “People are simple. They crash through the world, collecting ideas and experiences and try to assimilate all those into themselves so they can manufacture wisdom. Eventually, they realize the purpose of that wisdom. We’re meant to learn as much as we can and then use all that knowledge in order to create better versions of ourselves. We’re meant to converge eventually on the ultimate truth of the universe.”
Jacob shifted his eyes around as he listened. He only occasionally met Madelyn’s eyes.
“For some of us, a realization comes—we’re not meant to be parents. We lack the skill or motivation to successfully raise another generation. Our contribution to the universe will not include adding more life to the pile.”
“It’s our responsibility to ensure…” Jacob started.
Madelyn put up her hand to stop him. “That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t looking towards the future. I’ve been safeguarding this place and keeping it viable for whomever will inherit its capabilities. Even though I didn’t know you, you’re the one I was saving all this for.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“When my father arrived, you were about to shoot yourself in the head. Who would have taken care of the place then?”
“I never said I was doing a good job.”
Jacob raised his eyebrows.
“I suppose I was starting to think that maybe the world was empty after all this time.”
“Wouldn’t it have made more sense to take a walk and find out?”
“Perhaps. But remember, you’re coming from a different perspective. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Maybe someday you will. That leads me back to my original point—you belong in a community. You belong with other people who haven’t lost their idealism.”
“Oslo was good,” Jacob said. “I haven’t been thrilled with the other groups I’ve seen since I left.”
“Wait until you see Fairbanks. Then make your decision.”
#
#
#
#
#
They spent all morning preparing their packs. Once they were ready, neither one of them could sit still in the little cabin. They were drawn to start the journey. Madelyn led the way down to Circle Poke and made Jacob learn the directions as if they were a poem.
She was reciting the landmarks and describing how to navigate from one to the next. Jacob interrupted her.
“Chances are that if something happens to you, it’s going to happen to me too,” he said.
“Nonsense. I could slip and hit my head. You need to know where you’re going.”
“I’m pretty good at navigation, and I have my map. It got me halfway around the world so far.”
“You can
lose
a map.”
Jacob sighed.
They approached the buildings of the old mining camp and Madelyn began to remove her pack from her shoulder.
“We have several more hours of good light. Why are you stopping?”
“I’m not going to sleep outside when I have these buildings right here,” she said. “There’s no reason for it.”
Jacob looked around at the beaten-down old shacks. His frown expressed his opinion of the accommodations.
“We’re going to have plenty of opportunities to sleep outside and wake up soaked in dew. Let’s not pass up the opportunity to sleep inside one more night.”
Jacob nodded. His mouth was still twisted in disapproval. Madelyn set her eyes on the old boarding house and started moving. The trip was already feeling like a bad idea. Her nephew’s attitude wasn’t helping her cope any.
The old wooden porch stairs creaked under her weight. Madelyn passed through the doorway and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the shadows. She waited to hear Jacob’s steps behind her. When he didn’t come, she didn’t look back. She decided that he was probably outside moping. She wouldn’t feed that fire. Madelyn found the stairs and tested them with each step.
A tilted painting hung halfway up the staircase. Madelyn put a finger under the corner. She straightened it out as she passed. The dog featured in the picture was standing alert and intent on something in the distance. When he was drunk, David had talked about a dog he had kept alive after the cull. It was one of the few things that would make the old bear emotional. Madelyn had never understood the attraction.
She continued climbing. Before she reached the top, she finally heard Jacob’s steps behind her. He climbed quickly, with no regard for the integrity of the steps. When he was close enough, Jacob whispered at her.
“Aunt Madelyn, the truck is here.”
She stopped and turned.
“What?” she asked.
She followed her nephew back outside and down between the abandoned buildings.
They peered through the brush. The truck was parked alongside the barn and had been hastily hidden with branches. After she concluded that it was indeed the same truck, Madelyn leaned back against the wall of the store.
“Do you think they’re still at the lake?” Jacob asked.
She shook her head. “They obviously came all the way back here and moved the truck. I don’t know why they would do that if they were going to return to the lake.”
“Maybe they decided to stay but didn’t want to leave the truck out in the open. They didn’t want someone to steal it.”