Chapter 2

 

David stayed with Emily at the coffeehouse well past his normal excursion time. He couldn’t make himself leave.

At thirty-five she was a few years older than him, though he didn’t think she looked it, and told her so. She seemed honestly flattered by that and he was pleased he’d mentioned it, since he hadn’t said it to impress her, merely because it was the truth.

She’d spent some time explaining that cup of joe was a nickname for coffee, why people drank it, or tea, which he also tried and disliked only a bit less than coffee. He was used to the Nutrient, a sweet, thick liquid that was his main sustenance along with fruits and vegetables. Emily explained that it gave him all the nutrition he needed and wasn’t unhealthy for him. But she’d made the food and drink that others consumed sound fascinating, and David wanted to try a steak and potatoes soon, even though the small voice in his head mentioned that he’d be better off not saying so to the Mother Board.

She’d explained what philosophy was, and he’d wondered aloud why anyone would ask what their reason for being was when they were told this by the Master Computer. She’d just given him a sad smile and hadn’t answered.

Emily had shown him one of the articles she had written. He didn’t think it was all that uncomplimentary, and he’d told her so. She’d laughed and said that she was considered the opposition writer. “But the Mother Board likes it this way, and who am I to argue?” she’d added, confusing him. But he hadn’t admitted it.

The sun was beginning to set, and it dawned on David that he was very late. “Do you come here every day?” he asked her.

“No.” She shrugged. “Just sometimes. Why?”

“I want to see you again.” His chest was tight when he said this, and David wondered why.

She shook her head. “Not that I have anything against spending time with a tall, dark, and very handsome man, especially one with wavy hair and big, brown eyes, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not?” He felt disappointment course through his body.

“Do you ever visit lower-levels normally?”

“Well,” he admitted, “not really. But I’m allowed to.”

“True. But you don’t, and I would bet that you don’t go back and see them again, if you do visit.”

“No, I don’t,” he said in a low voice, feeling crushed for no good reason he could come up with. “But…none of them ever talked to me.”

“Talking to you could be deadly,” she said quietly.

“Why?” He was shocked and he knew it was showing.

She reached over and patted his hand. “Because of what you are, David. Because the Mother Board doesn’t want you thinking…ever.” She stood up, slipping her shoulder pack over her head. “I have to go. No matter what you might read or hear, David, I’ve honestly enjoyed spending time with you.” She gave him another smile then began to walk through the coffeehouse, towards the door.

He stood up and followed her, ignoring the old man behind the counter who was calling to him, offering him another cup of tea.

He got outside and saw her walking towards the Old Park. He ran to catch up to her. “Why are you running away from me?” he asked her as he got closer.

“I’m not,” she replied, not turning around and quickening her pace. “I told you, I’m late.”

He reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to look at him. She almost fell and he caught her, putting both of his arms around her. Her head only came to the middle of his chest and he had an almost overwhelming urge to pull her closer into his body, to wrap his arms around her. He didn’t understand why he felt like this – it had certainly never happened before. Then again, the voice in his head mentioned, he almost never touched other people – the Mother Board didn’t like him to and he’d never questioned why.

Emily didn’t look amused, angry or happy – she looked frightened. “David,” she hissed, “you’re going to get me killed and yourself brain-wiped.” She backed out of his arms, shaking. “I am not authorized to have a private interview with you,” she said in a very loud voice. “Good day.” She turned and walked on again.

David was stunned, but the small voice in his mind suggested that she might be afraid for a real reason. He tried to think about what to do, but all he could come up with was following her again, so he did.

She reached the Park and walked along the lake path until she came to a group of weeping willow trees with benches under them. She sat on one that faced the lake.

He caught up to her and stood in front of her again. She gave an exasperated sigh. “Why are you following me? I don’t want to be eradicated, in case you didn’t guess.”

“I won’t let them eradicate you.”

She snorted. “You have absolutely no power with them. There is nothing you can do to stop them from killing me, and every moment you stand there only gives them more reasons to do so.”

“I’m the Chosen One!” he shouted, insulted.

“You’re the output, the sperm donor,” she countered, with something like contempt and pity both in her voice. “You’re beautiful to look at, and your mind has the capacity for great creativity and intelligence. But they want your mind to work very little, because if it did indeed work as intended you might begin to think, and if you began to think, you’d realize that you’re a slave, a genetic sample.”

“What? I’m not a slave!”

She shook her head. “We’re all slaves. And we asked to be, too. Pathetic, sniveling losers, the progeny of men and women who once conquered an entire solar system. But we didn’t want to get our hands dirty anymore, so we abdicated everything to a ‘greater power’ which was supposed to make all the hard decisions for us, do all the hard work for us, make our lives a daily paradise. But with that abdication came enslavement. As a race we deserve so much better. As a people we got exactly what we asked for and, therefore, exactly what we deserve.” Her voice was bitter and sad.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

She closed her eyes. “I know.” He saw a tear slip out from under her lashes and it made his heart hurt, though he couldn’t fathom why.

But he sat down on the bench next to her and put his arm around her. “Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It will be alright. I’ll take care of you.”

She gave a half-laugh. “Some things are just bred into us by Mother Nature and the Mother Board can’t seem to breed them out, though lord knows she tries.” She looked up at him. He saw tears glistening in her eyes, as a few more rolled down her cheeks. He gently brushed them away, feeling how wet they were, and wondering why he was doing this.

He could tell by the look on her face that she knew he was confused – by what she’d said and his own reactions. She gave him a tremulous smile. “Men have been telling women not to cry since the dawn of time, as well as reassuring us that they would protect us and make everything better.” She shook her head. “But men no longer run the world.”

“But I mean it,” he protested gently. “I…I’ll protect you.”

She sighed. “You can’t protect yourself, David, let alone me. You’re the one in the most danger, if they notice that you’re starting to act like a human being instead of a genetic sample.”

“If we’re both in danger,” he said desperately, “then tell me what to do to keep us safe.”

She gave him a sad smile. “You would know better than I, David. You’re the one they’ll question, the moment you return back to the Tower. They’ll ask you what we spoke about, ask you why you ran after me, why you touched me…why you put your arms around me more than once. And what will you tell them, when they ask you that?”

He thought about this. The small voice in his mind mentioned that he’d already started his alibi earlier, before he’d even entered the coffeehouse. “I’ll tell them,” he said slowly, “that I wanted to see what the lower-level people were like. That I met you, and was insulted by what you wrote about me. You left to avoid conflict and I went after you, to try to have you interview me, so that the people would know me better and so you would stop writing uncomplimentary things.”

She nodded. “Fine, they might buy that. But, how do you explain comforting me?”

He wondered what she meant for a moment, then comprehended that was indeed what he’d been doing. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never done something like that before.”

She seemed to be thinking hard. “How about this? You tell them what you just thought up, and tell them that you’d seen a couple having a fight in the coffeehouse and were imitating them when I’d refused to interview you like you wanted. So this was what you saw the man do when the woman had calmed down, something like that. Meanwhile, you give me that interview, now, here. I’ll write an article tonight and upload it as soon as I can. It’s not a good plan, but it’s all we’re going to have, and you never know, it might work. And, take your arm away now – they won’t buy that story if you sit close to me the whole time.”

He did as she asked though he didn’t want to take his arm from around her shoulders. She shifted so that she was turned sideways on the bench, facing him, one leg bent and leaning on the bench, effectively creating space and a barrier between them. She pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of her bag and started asking him questions.

He answered them truthfully and as he did so the small voice in his mind mentioned that she wasn’t going to get a good article out of this interview therefore. He was listening to his answers and was realizing that he knew nothing about the world, hadn’t given anything much thought in decades, and was possibly the most innocuous man alive.

They finished in the dark – she’d had to pull a clip light out of her bag in order to keep on writing. He’d asked her why she didn’t just put on a mobile link and send her writing up directly, but she’d just given him a pitying look and hadn’t answered, instead asking him about his childhood again.

They were done, and he asked the same question he had in the coffeehouse. “Can I see you again?”

She seemed to consider it this time. “Tell you what,” she said finally. “If I’m still alive and you’re not brain-wiped and you still want to meet up again, write a letter and leave it at that mail drop.” She nodded her head toward a rusted stand across the lake.

“But it would be faster to send you a link,” he protested.

She shrugged. “If you send me a link, it had better only be about something official. If you want to see me in person again, you need to write a letter.”

“Why?” he asked, confused.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. “If we meet up again, maybe I’ll tell you.” She stood up. “Please don’t follow me, David. We might survive this encounter, but not if you follow me now.” He nodded and she smiled at him. “I have to give the Mother Board credit…she does know how to pick based on looks.” She gave a short laugh. “And, if this is the last human contact I have, at least it was with the handsomest man I’ve ever met.” She nodded to him, turned around, and left, walking on through the Old Park.

He watched her until the dark swallowed her up, then he got up and went back to the Tower.