Calvaria Fell, page 4
They were friendly, kind, like where are you? Stay there and we’ll send someone.
They did, too. Within two hours, they had a prepaid taxi to pick me up and take me to their office. I read their brochure on the way.
It said, Medical research is worth a fortune, especially when related to space travel.
It said, 200,000 apply, only a few will get in. Will one of them be you? I wanted it to be. I really did. So by the time we got there, I was ready to try out.
—
They were really nice. They gave me a comfy chair and a big test to do.
“Not a test!” they said. “A questionnaire. No right or wrong answers.” There were, though. They were looking for particular answers. I didn’t know what those answers were, so all I could do was be honest.
Question: What is your past job experience?
I’d had heaps. Right now I was working on a road crew. Loved that. In your gear you all looked alike, like a real team.
Question: Do you like being part of a group?
Did I what!
Question: What’s the worst thing you’ve eaten?
I ate a rat in jail once, to prove a point. Can’t remember what the point was, mind you. But it made them all leave me alone. Weird, though. After I ate the rat, even water tasted of it.
Question: What do you think of the Planarian Worm experiment? Obscene? Wrong? Worthwhile?
They let me use my phone to look it up and then my answer was It doesn’t bother me. They’re only worms.
Question: Do you eat meat? Do you have any ethical concerns or do you know that each creature has a place (for example)?
Love my meat.
Question: Are you looking for meaning in your life? Are you frightened of dying without purpose?
That was a tough one. I decided to tell them what my mum wrote in her goodbye note, about finding meaning and letting that make you happy.
—
And I got the job!
I had to sign an agreement:
No arguing.
Anything goes.
Eat what you’re given.
Do your job.
Have fun!
—
I called to let Matty know I was training for Mars. He didn’t answer so I left a message, and he called back, laughing at me until he choked. He said, “Jeez, you’re a dumbfuck. And they must be too if they’ve hired you.” I hung up on him and I thought that just getting the job made me stronger. Better. My parents never thought I’d be much and I’m not, yet. But I will be.
Day 1
The resort squatted in the distance, shadowy and huge, like an old giant from a fairy tale waiting for us to arrive.
I climbed off the bus, stiff and sore after fourteen hours traveling, watching the real world fade as the wheels of the bus rolled on. Everyone was quiet, mostly, with the occasional burst of conversation or laughter.
They’d told me to leave it all behind. That this was my second chance, my tilt at making a difference.
It’s hard to imagine being so far away from anything but there we were. The bus driver and some others unloaded boxes and our stuff, then he took off. The only way out was to walk. It’d take days. Weeks.
So dry. Made me thirsty just looking out. And red. Someone said it was red like Mars which I thought was pretty smart.
Where we’re staying is a deserted resort. It used to be for stargazing. Rich people would come here and get educated about space and all that. It has its own planetarium. The big sign at the entrance says Starstruck Resort and Planetarium but someone has made a joke and changed it to Starstruck Resort and Planarium. Not exactly sure but I laughed along with the others.
Wind blew so strong my hair flew around my head and I struggled to keep my skirt down. Someone whistled and said, “Hello, sexy legs.” I was going to like this place.
—
They showed us to our apartments. Luckily we had guides to show us because I’ve never seen so many corridors, stairs, elevators, more corridors. Like some huge maze. We all have our own place, spread out over the whole resort. I couldn’t believe how much room I had.
My apartment looked out over the dried-up swimming pool. It was the quietest place I ever slept.
Our corridor was called Olympus Mons. They said it was named after a volcano on Mars. All the art, in the rooms and along the corridors, was spacy. Stars and planets, that kind of thing. So beautiful.
—
I got totally lost trying to find the dining room, so I called for help. Stay put, they said, just like when I was deserted in the bush. One young guy came to find me. He was so good-looking I was glad I’d put my makeup on, but wished I’d worn one of my sexier tops.
In the end I was one of the first to arrive; everyone else got lost, too.
I sat at a table with four other newbies. I felt a bit overdressed but better over than under, I say. It’s all right when you’re a teenager but as you get older you need to take more care.
It was awkward and exciting, complete strangers sharing a meal. My good-looking helper (his name turned out to be Tony) sat elsewhere but the guys at my table were cute, too. They gave us a list of “conversation starters,” which we were supposed to go through in order to get to know each other. So lame! I could just imagine Matty going, “Fuck that shit.”
That night we had lasagna. It was pretty good. Meaty and saucy and heaps of cheese.
Day 2
They told me to go to room 821. I had no idea. Lost again, but someone showed up and rescued me. No way was I ever going to figure it out.
They sat me down in front of a wall of equipment. What the hell? I had no idea. I just sat there for an hour, hoping I didn’t have to figure it out in order to stay. They did tell me that they just wanted to see what could be achieved in 68 days. Didn’t matter what I did, just that I did it.
Then someone came and got me and we all went to have dinner in the bar. It was meatloaf tonight, best I’ve ever had. I sat with a different group and already it felt as if I knew them. All of us were in the same boat; a diagnosis we didn’t want to think much about. Most of us were on our own.
Day 3
By the third day, without anyone telling me a thing, I’m working those knobs and buttons as if I was a rocket scientist. Wish people at home could see. My teachers. My mother. Matty. They’d be seeing a different me.
We had movie night; an old classic called Braveheart.
I don’t know what the others are dying of, but we all are. All expenses are paid, even the medical stuff. They’re giving me no questions asked painkillers and my head and eyes feel better already.
Day 5
I’m treading paths I’ve never trod before. It’s a compulsion; a weird familiarity with something I know I don’t know.
And I realize I’m treading paths I’ve never been taught.
We booze up every night. Beer, champagne, cocktails. Wine and beer. I don’t know if it’s that, but already the conversational starters are weird; we all know each other’s answers.
Day 10
Every night we’ll go out and look up at the stars.
“If I was living on Mars now, I’d have 687 days left. Not 365.” We all said that, doing the maths.
We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I had two servings and no one cared less.
Day 15
There are so many good-looking guys here. Tanned and carefree. Most gorgeous of all is Tony.
Tony and me, we click together. Just a perfect fit. His skin is so warm. I don’t know what he’s got and he doesn’t know what I’ve got and neither of us know how long.
Day 20
Tony took a bunch of us for a hike, out to this huge meteorite which is meant to be from Mars. We placed our hands on it. He said, “One of the things that draws us together, and to Mars, is the ability to go against the rules. She spins back on her own orbit, does a twist.”
He twisted as if he was on the dance floor. “That’s us. Rule breakers. Well, not sensible rules like we have.”
We all laughed at this.
“But the ones in place for no reason.”
We loved every word he said. “The only way forward is to choose to go forward to your next existence. This is for humanity. For the future.” The big rock glowed warm and felt magnetic. We asked him how it got there.
“Legend says Ancient Ones on Mars threw rocks like this at Earth, trying to get our attention. It’s finally working!”
Day 25
Movie night was It’s a Wonderful Life.
Day 29
We trekked out to the rock again. It buzzed, slowly warming up, and we all put a palm on it. We’ve never felt so connected in all our lives. Around it, mounds of small rocks. Some of them painted. An art project, maybe? One of the guys said they were ancient burial mounds.
Day 30
Part of what they’re figuring out is how to beat depression on the Mars project. It’s the isolation; you know Earth is far away. And you know you only have a small number of days left. You’ll die out there.
That’s what we’re helping them with.
How do you stay motivated to achieve, not for yourself, but those who come after?
We’ve never felt better.
Day 32
We all wake up around the same time now, in the early hours of the morning, and all end up out around the empty pool. Looking up. Someone brought out armchairs that people weren’t using and we’d laze about, watching the sky and talking while the sun rose.
Sometimes we’ll go into the planetarium but the place needs fixing. It smells bad.
Every step is familiar.
We talk about the ancient ones who might be waiting on Mars. “Imagine!” we say. “They’ll wake up and there we’ll be!”
Day 38
No post went out and none came in. Where would we send things to? We signed to say we wouldn’t tell anyone we were going. Mostly no one cared. Mostly we didn’t get reported missing. I would have been surprised. My brain would have exploded. But it didn’t happen.
We were better than anyone else because we were the ones with absolute freedom. We were the ones who could do whatever we wanted.
Ironic, given how close we were all becoming. Like a merged brain, with merged feelings. It was nice.
Movie night was a cartoon thing called The Iron Giant.
Day 42
There’s something comforting about being in a commune full of people who are dying. All of us strangers, so there’s no past to contend with, no long-term emotions.
All we have are the 68 days.
And we’re all fucking each other. You couldn’t do that outside. No one will fuck a dying person. But seriously if you had weeks to live? Why not feel pleasure while you still can? No one cares about my rash. It’s better mostly, anyway.
We’re lost in a fog of sex and booze.
Lost in a fog of déjà vu. It’s not just that we have a routine: work/eat/play/sleep. More than that. A deep sense of this has happened before.
Day 50
Counting down the days. I don’t want to leave, but no one stays beyond the 68.
“Stay any longer and you’ll start to suffocate.” That’s what they reckon.
Setting/emotions like one mind. Meal. Meat. Always. ‘Lucky there are no vegetarians here,” someone joked, and we all laughed, although it felt like we’d heard it a dozen times already.
Day 52
People like me here. We feel at home. At one with each other.
Day 60
Just over a week until we’re gone and the next group comes in.
“Look what we’ve achieved,” they’re telling us, and I can’t quite believe it myself. We built a dome that works like a greenhouse. We learned how to cook and operate machinery. We fixed the planetarium. We grew to love each other. “You are such a cohesive group,” they said. “So positive.”
—
The sun burns hot here. It’s like it’s a different sun from the one anywhere else. Here it’s free, unbridled, like we are.
We’d sit naked but our poor boobs would burn and the skin would peel and no one wants that.
The idea makes us laugh and once we start we can’t stop until we’re so weak with it we’re in the sand and someone carries us inside.
“It’s a side effect we’re working on,” Tony said. They were figuring out ways to stop the Sads on Mars, because the Sads don’t make things happen.
But it made us laugh too much, at too little. It felt good. Like Tony does. Not like Matty did. Nothing like Matty.
Day 67
Serious fucking partying going on. Swapping of fluids. Swapping of contact details, none of us wanting to go back, but 68 days is what they’re testing so 68 days is what it is.
We were all together. Ten of us. Sometimes felt as if we were one. Other times there was just me and Tony.
—
I liked it when he took me out onto the roof or way way away from the resort. He was quiet out there and we could just hang. He showed me Mars through the telescope and I swore I could see movement up there.
“It’s incredible to think people will be there in a generation. And that we’re helping them get there.”
Day 68
We wake up on the last day. Tony brought me breakfast, the tiny spicy sausages we have every few days. They are so good and hothouse tomatoes and mushrooms with butter and parsley, and champagne. I still felt drunk from the night before.
He sat on the end of the bed, watching me. It felt weird. Like my mum used to do. It’s one of the things I miss most about Mum. When I was in my early teens, before things went to shit, she’d come into my room in the morning and sit on the end of my bed and we’d chat. I was still a bit sleepy so not as defensive as I’d be later. I remember those talks so well. In those sleepy times, we both thought it would be all right.
—
He made me get up, and we walked to the meteorite. I loved it there in the early evening, when it was so warm. So familiar.
“Do you really want to go back to the city?” he said. I felt a surge in my heart; was he saying I could stay?
“No! I want to stay here!”
He shook his head. “That can’t happen. But to be honest, they’re nervous about sending you back.”
“Just me, or everyone?”
“Mostly you. It’s a couple of things.” He made me drink a glass of champagne. “It’s your LE, for one.” (he was the same as the doctor, thinking that calling it LE will make it easier to take) “You’re looking at weeks once you go back home, they think.”
“But I feel fine.”
“That’s the beauty and the curse of it. You’ll feel like that until suddenly this happens.”
He showed me the worst photos I’ve ever seen, of people in dying stages of my disease. Pus and blood from every orifice. It was horrendous.
“You’re so beautiful the way you are. It would break my heart to see you like this,” making me look at the photos, every single one of them. “Have you got anyone to look after you?” He knew I didn’t. “You can make it worthwhile. Don’t waste all you know. All you have up here.” He tapped my temple gently, then stroked his cool hand on my forehead. “You know what you’ve been eating.”
I had known. I just didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to be sent home for complaining about it. And everyone did it. No one seemed concerned. You wouldn’t tell anyone outside, but it tasted fine. Human meat tasted fine.
“The knowledge you have came from the one before you. She got hers from the one before her. On and on, and the knowledge improves each time. It’s brilliant; each person doesn’t have to retrain. We don’t have to waste time. Complex tasks managed in a day or two. Relationships remembered. Finding your way without being lost. Every day, every hour, is critical.” He’s still stroking me. Under my clothes, now.
“It’s totally groundbreaking and will be part of the future of us. It will literally help the survival of the human race.”
It made perfect sense.
“You’ll join others who went before you. You’ll be a proud member of an elite team. You’ll be remembered. This moment is perfect. You are perfect. It is all downhill from here.”
I said, “What about the others? Are they doing this, too?”
“What do you think? See if you can feel the hive mind.”
I closed my eyes. “I think yes.”
—
He left me there. It was warm, perfect, and I had champagne and the smell of strawberries.
He gave me a pill. One. It would be enough.
I took the pill and laughed and laughed and laughed to think of what would happen next.
The Space Between
All Possible Ways
Cat Sparks
Present
The drones come first and then the war machines, lumbering like beasts across crags and dirt, twenty-inch radial tires chewing rocks. Compact, stocky vehicles, blast protected as they bounce and glide, bullet-riddled ballistic paneling draped with tangled, dusty camo, 50 caliber machine guns mounted high and proud.
Trucks mean business: high mobility variants with v-shaped armored spines once used for deep battlespace reconnaissance. These days after whatever they can get. Women, alcohol or water; forgotten caches from bungled supply drops half a decade past or even longer.
Lately they’ve been chasing rumors of a magic tree taken root in inhospitable terrain. A wonderous bloom, scraping filth from empty air, returning it as gold and gems and car parts. From diesel to the finest liquor, make your wishes and the tree provides. Refugees have gathered, attracted to its bounty.
They did, too. Within two hours, they had a prepaid taxi to pick me up and take me to their office. I read their brochure on the way.
It said, Medical research is worth a fortune, especially when related to space travel.
It said, 200,000 apply, only a few will get in. Will one of them be you? I wanted it to be. I really did. So by the time we got there, I was ready to try out.
—
They were really nice. They gave me a comfy chair and a big test to do.
“Not a test!” they said. “A questionnaire. No right or wrong answers.” There were, though. They were looking for particular answers. I didn’t know what those answers were, so all I could do was be honest.
Question: What is your past job experience?
I’d had heaps. Right now I was working on a road crew. Loved that. In your gear you all looked alike, like a real team.
Question: Do you like being part of a group?
Did I what!
Question: What’s the worst thing you’ve eaten?
I ate a rat in jail once, to prove a point. Can’t remember what the point was, mind you. But it made them all leave me alone. Weird, though. After I ate the rat, even water tasted of it.
Question: What do you think of the Planarian Worm experiment? Obscene? Wrong? Worthwhile?
They let me use my phone to look it up and then my answer was It doesn’t bother me. They’re only worms.
Question: Do you eat meat? Do you have any ethical concerns or do you know that each creature has a place (for example)?
Love my meat.
Question: Are you looking for meaning in your life? Are you frightened of dying without purpose?
That was a tough one. I decided to tell them what my mum wrote in her goodbye note, about finding meaning and letting that make you happy.
—
And I got the job!
I had to sign an agreement:
No arguing.
Anything goes.
Eat what you’re given.
Do your job.
Have fun!
—
I called to let Matty know I was training for Mars. He didn’t answer so I left a message, and he called back, laughing at me until he choked. He said, “Jeez, you’re a dumbfuck. And they must be too if they’ve hired you.” I hung up on him and I thought that just getting the job made me stronger. Better. My parents never thought I’d be much and I’m not, yet. But I will be.
Day 1
The resort squatted in the distance, shadowy and huge, like an old giant from a fairy tale waiting for us to arrive.
I climbed off the bus, stiff and sore after fourteen hours traveling, watching the real world fade as the wheels of the bus rolled on. Everyone was quiet, mostly, with the occasional burst of conversation or laughter.
They’d told me to leave it all behind. That this was my second chance, my tilt at making a difference.
It’s hard to imagine being so far away from anything but there we were. The bus driver and some others unloaded boxes and our stuff, then he took off. The only way out was to walk. It’d take days. Weeks.
So dry. Made me thirsty just looking out. And red. Someone said it was red like Mars which I thought was pretty smart.
Where we’re staying is a deserted resort. It used to be for stargazing. Rich people would come here and get educated about space and all that. It has its own planetarium. The big sign at the entrance says Starstruck Resort and Planetarium but someone has made a joke and changed it to Starstruck Resort and Planarium. Not exactly sure but I laughed along with the others.
Wind blew so strong my hair flew around my head and I struggled to keep my skirt down. Someone whistled and said, “Hello, sexy legs.” I was going to like this place.
—
They showed us to our apartments. Luckily we had guides to show us because I’ve never seen so many corridors, stairs, elevators, more corridors. Like some huge maze. We all have our own place, spread out over the whole resort. I couldn’t believe how much room I had.
My apartment looked out over the dried-up swimming pool. It was the quietest place I ever slept.
Our corridor was called Olympus Mons. They said it was named after a volcano on Mars. All the art, in the rooms and along the corridors, was spacy. Stars and planets, that kind of thing. So beautiful.
—
I got totally lost trying to find the dining room, so I called for help. Stay put, they said, just like when I was deserted in the bush. One young guy came to find me. He was so good-looking I was glad I’d put my makeup on, but wished I’d worn one of my sexier tops.
In the end I was one of the first to arrive; everyone else got lost, too.
I sat at a table with four other newbies. I felt a bit overdressed but better over than under, I say. It’s all right when you’re a teenager but as you get older you need to take more care.
It was awkward and exciting, complete strangers sharing a meal. My good-looking helper (his name turned out to be Tony) sat elsewhere but the guys at my table were cute, too. They gave us a list of “conversation starters,” which we were supposed to go through in order to get to know each other. So lame! I could just imagine Matty going, “Fuck that shit.”
That night we had lasagna. It was pretty good. Meaty and saucy and heaps of cheese.
Day 2
They told me to go to room 821. I had no idea. Lost again, but someone showed up and rescued me. No way was I ever going to figure it out.
They sat me down in front of a wall of equipment. What the hell? I had no idea. I just sat there for an hour, hoping I didn’t have to figure it out in order to stay. They did tell me that they just wanted to see what could be achieved in 68 days. Didn’t matter what I did, just that I did it.
Then someone came and got me and we all went to have dinner in the bar. It was meatloaf tonight, best I’ve ever had. I sat with a different group and already it felt as if I knew them. All of us were in the same boat; a diagnosis we didn’t want to think much about. Most of us were on our own.
Day 3
By the third day, without anyone telling me a thing, I’m working those knobs and buttons as if I was a rocket scientist. Wish people at home could see. My teachers. My mother. Matty. They’d be seeing a different me.
We had movie night; an old classic called Braveheart.
I don’t know what the others are dying of, but we all are. All expenses are paid, even the medical stuff. They’re giving me no questions asked painkillers and my head and eyes feel better already.
Day 5
I’m treading paths I’ve never trod before. It’s a compulsion; a weird familiarity with something I know I don’t know.
And I realize I’m treading paths I’ve never been taught.
We booze up every night. Beer, champagne, cocktails. Wine and beer. I don’t know if it’s that, but already the conversational starters are weird; we all know each other’s answers.
Day 10
Every night we’ll go out and look up at the stars.
“If I was living on Mars now, I’d have 687 days left. Not 365.” We all said that, doing the maths.
We had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. I had two servings and no one cared less.
Day 15
There are so many good-looking guys here. Tanned and carefree. Most gorgeous of all is Tony.
Tony and me, we click together. Just a perfect fit. His skin is so warm. I don’t know what he’s got and he doesn’t know what I’ve got and neither of us know how long.
Day 20
Tony took a bunch of us for a hike, out to this huge meteorite which is meant to be from Mars. We placed our hands on it. He said, “One of the things that draws us together, and to Mars, is the ability to go against the rules. She spins back on her own orbit, does a twist.”
He twisted as if he was on the dance floor. “That’s us. Rule breakers. Well, not sensible rules like we have.”
We all laughed at this.
“But the ones in place for no reason.”
We loved every word he said. “The only way forward is to choose to go forward to your next existence. This is for humanity. For the future.” The big rock glowed warm and felt magnetic. We asked him how it got there.
“Legend says Ancient Ones on Mars threw rocks like this at Earth, trying to get our attention. It’s finally working!”
Day 25
Movie night was It’s a Wonderful Life.
Day 29
We trekked out to the rock again. It buzzed, slowly warming up, and we all put a palm on it. We’ve never felt so connected in all our lives. Around it, mounds of small rocks. Some of them painted. An art project, maybe? One of the guys said they were ancient burial mounds.
Day 30
Part of what they’re figuring out is how to beat depression on the Mars project. It’s the isolation; you know Earth is far away. And you know you only have a small number of days left. You’ll die out there.
That’s what we’re helping them with.
How do you stay motivated to achieve, not for yourself, but those who come after?
We’ve never felt better.
Day 32
We all wake up around the same time now, in the early hours of the morning, and all end up out around the empty pool. Looking up. Someone brought out armchairs that people weren’t using and we’d laze about, watching the sky and talking while the sun rose.
Sometimes we’ll go into the planetarium but the place needs fixing. It smells bad.
Every step is familiar.
We talk about the ancient ones who might be waiting on Mars. “Imagine!” we say. “They’ll wake up and there we’ll be!”
Day 38
No post went out and none came in. Where would we send things to? We signed to say we wouldn’t tell anyone we were going. Mostly no one cared. Mostly we didn’t get reported missing. I would have been surprised. My brain would have exploded. But it didn’t happen.
We were better than anyone else because we were the ones with absolute freedom. We were the ones who could do whatever we wanted.
Ironic, given how close we were all becoming. Like a merged brain, with merged feelings. It was nice.
Movie night was a cartoon thing called The Iron Giant.
Day 42
There’s something comforting about being in a commune full of people who are dying. All of us strangers, so there’s no past to contend with, no long-term emotions.
All we have are the 68 days.
And we’re all fucking each other. You couldn’t do that outside. No one will fuck a dying person. But seriously if you had weeks to live? Why not feel pleasure while you still can? No one cares about my rash. It’s better mostly, anyway.
We’re lost in a fog of sex and booze.
Lost in a fog of déjà vu. It’s not just that we have a routine: work/eat/play/sleep. More than that. A deep sense of this has happened before.
Day 50
Counting down the days. I don’t want to leave, but no one stays beyond the 68.
“Stay any longer and you’ll start to suffocate.” That’s what they reckon.
Setting/emotions like one mind. Meal. Meat. Always. ‘Lucky there are no vegetarians here,” someone joked, and we all laughed, although it felt like we’d heard it a dozen times already.
Day 52
People like me here. We feel at home. At one with each other.
Day 60
Just over a week until we’re gone and the next group comes in.
“Look what we’ve achieved,” they’re telling us, and I can’t quite believe it myself. We built a dome that works like a greenhouse. We learned how to cook and operate machinery. We fixed the planetarium. We grew to love each other. “You are such a cohesive group,” they said. “So positive.”
—
The sun burns hot here. It’s like it’s a different sun from the one anywhere else. Here it’s free, unbridled, like we are.
We’d sit naked but our poor boobs would burn and the skin would peel and no one wants that.
The idea makes us laugh and once we start we can’t stop until we’re so weak with it we’re in the sand and someone carries us inside.
“It’s a side effect we’re working on,” Tony said. They were figuring out ways to stop the Sads on Mars, because the Sads don’t make things happen.
But it made us laugh too much, at too little. It felt good. Like Tony does. Not like Matty did. Nothing like Matty.
Day 67
Serious fucking partying going on. Swapping of fluids. Swapping of contact details, none of us wanting to go back, but 68 days is what they’re testing so 68 days is what it is.
We were all together. Ten of us. Sometimes felt as if we were one. Other times there was just me and Tony.
—
I liked it when he took me out onto the roof or way way away from the resort. He was quiet out there and we could just hang. He showed me Mars through the telescope and I swore I could see movement up there.
“It’s incredible to think people will be there in a generation. And that we’re helping them get there.”
Day 68
We wake up on the last day. Tony brought me breakfast, the tiny spicy sausages we have every few days. They are so good and hothouse tomatoes and mushrooms with butter and parsley, and champagne. I still felt drunk from the night before.
He sat on the end of the bed, watching me. It felt weird. Like my mum used to do. It’s one of the things I miss most about Mum. When I was in my early teens, before things went to shit, she’d come into my room in the morning and sit on the end of my bed and we’d chat. I was still a bit sleepy so not as defensive as I’d be later. I remember those talks so well. In those sleepy times, we both thought it would be all right.
—
He made me get up, and we walked to the meteorite. I loved it there in the early evening, when it was so warm. So familiar.
“Do you really want to go back to the city?” he said. I felt a surge in my heart; was he saying I could stay?
“No! I want to stay here!”
He shook his head. “That can’t happen. But to be honest, they’re nervous about sending you back.”
“Just me, or everyone?”
“Mostly you. It’s a couple of things.” He made me drink a glass of champagne. “It’s your LE, for one.” (he was the same as the doctor, thinking that calling it LE will make it easier to take) “You’re looking at weeks once you go back home, they think.”
“But I feel fine.”
“That’s the beauty and the curse of it. You’ll feel like that until suddenly this happens.”
He showed me the worst photos I’ve ever seen, of people in dying stages of my disease. Pus and blood from every orifice. It was horrendous.
“You’re so beautiful the way you are. It would break my heart to see you like this,” making me look at the photos, every single one of them. “Have you got anyone to look after you?” He knew I didn’t. “You can make it worthwhile. Don’t waste all you know. All you have up here.” He tapped my temple gently, then stroked his cool hand on my forehead. “You know what you’ve been eating.”
I had known. I just didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to be sent home for complaining about it. And everyone did it. No one seemed concerned. You wouldn’t tell anyone outside, but it tasted fine. Human meat tasted fine.
“The knowledge you have came from the one before you. She got hers from the one before her. On and on, and the knowledge improves each time. It’s brilliant; each person doesn’t have to retrain. We don’t have to waste time. Complex tasks managed in a day or two. Relationships remembered. Finding your way without being lost. Every day, every hour, is critical.” He’s still stroking me. Under my clothes, now.
“It’s totally groundbreaking and will be part of the future of us. It will literally help the survival of the human race.”
It made perfect sense.
“You’ll join others who went before you. You’ll be a proud member of an elite team. You’ll be remembered. This moment is perfect. You are perfect. It is all downhill from here.”
I said, “What about the others? Are they doing this, too?”
“What do you think? See if you can feel the hive mind.”
I closed my eyes. “I think yes.”
—
He left me there. It was warm, perfect, and I had champagne and the smell of strawberries.
He gave me a pill. One. It would be enough.
I took the pill and laughed and laughed and laughed to think of what would happen next.
The Space Between
All Possible Ways
Cat Sparks
Present
The drones come first and then the war machines, lumbering like beasts across crags and dirt, twenty-inch radial tires chewing rocks. Compact, stocky vehicles, blast protected as they bounce and glide, bullet-riddled ballistic paneling draped with tangled, dusty camo, 50 caliber machine guns mounted high and proud.
Trucks mean business: high mobility variants with v-shaped armored spines once used for deep battlespace reconnaissance. These days after whatever they can get. Women, alcohol or water; forgotten caches from bungled supply drops half a decade past or even longer.
Lately they’ve been chasing rumors of a magic tree taken root in inhospitable terrain. A wonderous bloom, scraping filth from empty air, returning it as gold and gems and car parts. From diesel to the finest liquor, make your wishes and the tree provides. Refugees have gathered, attracted to its bounty.
