The Ivory Tower
“PLEASE REMAIN STILL, Princess.” The fitter, a man of slight build and coiffed hair, looked up at the girl standing on the raised platform before him with a scolding expression. He was very adept at speaking out of the left half of his mouth while the right half held pins at the ready.
The girl exhaled, expelling a sigh of resignation tainted with bitterness. “I wish you would stop calling me Princess. Call me Zelle. That’s my name.”
The fitter shrugged, holding a new, tighter seam together at her waist with the fingers of one hand as he slid a needle into the material with the other. “I call you what you are.”
The girl looked down at the man responsible for dressing her in the finest clothing she would ever see in her lifetime. “Did you know that back on Earth, when our father’s father’s fathers populated that planet, princesses were given that title only when they were born into a royal family? A royal family that had been in existence for hundreds, if not thousands, of years?”
His answer was toneless, delivered with a distracted air as he maneuvered another pinch of material, readying it for the next pin. “I know our race’s history as well as you do.”
The girl put her nose slightly in the air. “Then you know it really isn’t right to call me Princess. I wasn’t born into any special family, I was just born without a Y chromosome.”
Having used the last of his pins, the fitter was now free to smile in satisfaction. “And that’s what makes you so special that we consider you royalty.” The prim little man stood, wrapping his arms tightly around his ribcage, giving the impression he wished to comfort himself. “You can take the gown off now, Mistress.” He gave her a perfunctory smile, his use of the title Mistress a sign that he had heard what she’d said and wasn’t entirely immune to her distress.
The girl bowed out of respect for his small gesture. It probably didn’t mean much to him, perhaps it was even a joke, but to her it meant everything. She was tired of being treated like a princess, coddled like a precious gem of Jupiter, all because she’d been born without that Y chromosome. She had always been taught it was a special stroke of luck, but she could only see how it had played out in her life: as a curse.
“Shall I disrobe now, or wait until you’ve left the room?” She was teasing, hoping to get a rise out of him.
He shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”
She should have known better than to try to get a rise out of a man who had nothing between his legs. Being a eunuch, the fitter was no threat to her cherished virginity, so of course he didn’t care if she stripped naked right there or out in the hallway or in the main hall. The only thing he cared about was making sure she was ready for the big day: her eighteenth birthday, when all the fun would begin. When she would be led into her future, like a lamb to the slaughter.
* * *
The fitter left without a word as Zelle slid out of the ceremonial dress and back into her uniform, a shapeless shift of bland color and no discernible style—unless one counted potatoes gathered in a sack as having a style. She thought about the days ahead as the heavy material slid over her soft, pale skin. Three days hence would mark her eighteenth birthday and the day that she would be officially presented to the world. The people would see her one time and perhaps never again as she embarked on her life of servitude.
She left the fitting area and entered the adjoining space, the room she had lived in for the past year. The walls were devoid of color or decor, the bed dressed with simple linens and a single pillow. She had been allowed one thing to keep her company: a bird. It was kept in a golden cage in the corner of her room, just next to a window.
She walked over to see him, mindful of the fact that she wasn’t to let him out. “Hello, Bird.” His name had been chosen with great care; she never knew when her pets would be replaced, so it was best not to get too attached. “How are you today? Did you see the fitter in there? I do believe his hair has gotten higher since the last time he was here. Soon it will make him nearly as tall as I am.”
She smiled sadly as she put a finger into the cage. Bird moved along his perch to allow his head to be reached. Zelle stroked the soft feathers, enjoying the feeling of camaraderie when he turned his head around to make it easier for her to do a proper job of scratching his itches.
“I know how you feel,” she whispered. “Stuck in this cage. Being able to see out the window but never being able to leave.”
Bird lifted his head up and walked away from her down his perch, turning his attention to his feet.
“One day, you will be free,” she said quietly, so that the listeners would not hear. “I will let you go from this cage and you will be able to fly anywhere you want to go. Across the lands and the seas and over to your homeland, if you wish.”
She played with the catch on the door, imagining what it would be like, to let a caged creature go to follow whatever destiny he chose for himself. “I wish I could go with you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I wish I could grow wings and fly out of here, across the land and the sea. I don’t believe what they’ve been teaching me. I don’t believe that I’m lucky to be one of The Four, the mothers of the human race. I don’t want this duty. I don’t consider it an honor. It’s a curse. And this ivory tower is my cage.” She rubbed her hand up one side of Bird’s home, sighing as she battled the tears back. “You and I are not so different, are we? We both sing, we both walk the perch, we both dream of being free. But neither of us is going anywhere. The bars are too strong and no one is brave enough to open the door.”
She walked away and sat down at her small table. There, her tablets and books waited for her to open them and absorb their contents. Her schooling would soon be over as she transitioned into motherhood. When she was younger and forced to endure eight hours of study per day, she never thought that she would miss her tutors or the endless stream of facts that fed her brain morning, noon, and night, but she had been wrong. Now that she only had two days of school remaining, she saw the truth of it; she was going to miss all of it dearly. Clarity and appreciation had come when she’d realized learning was her only connection to the outside world. She had lived on the periphery of that world up until now, but soon, the door would close forever and she’d lose any connection to it, save for the scientists who would surely become her only friends. And her children. Assuming they would let them stay.
Her hand caressed the cover of the text that she had been taught was over four hundred years old. Moby Dick: the story of man’s futile search for truth beneath a surface he could never penetrate with his puny, human mind. Zelle knew this conundrum well. Truth had always eluded her. No one dared tell her everything, and even the things she was privy to were suspect; one man’s torture was often another man’s pleasure.
She wondered, as she often did, about the three other girls who were living in their own ivory towers, who were either going through the same motions she was right now or who would be very soon. She was not allowed to know their names, but she did know that they were all born in the same year as she had been. She had been the first, and the others had followed, their births a cruel trick of nature that mankind had not been able to replicate. The other three princesses, humans unlucky enough to be born female, would follow in her footsteps, as reluctantly taken as they might be.
Were they anxious? Did they feel like they were suffocating under the pressure and expectations? Did they wonder what life was like outside of the tower? Zelle had no way of knowing for sure, but she couldn’t imagine anyone being content with this life, with being a slave to an entire race.
Zelle had heard through one of her more enlightened tutors, many years ago, that the male children of her people were brought up to believe that the girls of the ivory towers, the princesses of New Earth, were heroes, that they lived in the lap of luxury wanting for nothing and that they were happy to fulfill their duty of repopulating the world, with keeping the human race alive. But what they could never understand was that the girls in the ivory towers were denied the one thing anybody wanted: freedom. The freedom to make a choice about anything that mattered.
Zelle pushed the book away. What was the point in reading that story again? She already knew how it ended, and she already knew what it told her. She was doomed. She would never know why she had been born a girl, or why so few had been born after her, or why since that year, only boys had appeared until all the mothers died away.
She looked at the timepiece that always remained in her front pocket. Two minutes remained until her next lesson. She was not permitted a mirror, but she was allowed a brush. This she ran through her long hair, doing her best to look presentable. She braided it together in one long plait that reached to her waist.
Arno was her favorite tutor. He taught her about history, and he wasn’t too much older than she was. He was also one of the few men allowed around her who wasn’t a eunuch. She wasn’t sure why that was permitted. She had asked him once, but he had avoided the question, leading her to assume that he was connected to someone important. Asking about that connection would have surely resulted in a one-way ticket out of her life for Arno, so she never let her curiosity get the better of her. Not on that subject, anyway.
She left her room, her slippers making slight tapping sounds along the marble floors. She wondered what she and Arno would discuss at their next lesson. Would she learn about the political landscape as it existed before the people of Earth destroyed their planet? Would they discuss the natural resources available to them on various planets in the nearby galaxies?
Arno seemed to know everything. He was a fount of knowledge, and she could never get enough of listening to him speak. The only thing he would not discuss with her was life outside the tower. It was a forbidden subject with all of her tutors, and while Arno didn’t always follow all the rules, he did follow that one.
She continued down the hall, taking a left turn and then a right, passing doors she’d never been given access to as she went. She wondered if she would be given a special key that would unlock every door on her eighteenth birthday. And then she wondered if she’d use it. Some secrets, she suspected, might be better left undiscovered.
* * *
Zelle sat across the table from Arno. It was required that two chairs separate them at all times, and because the learning area was monitored, they were always careful to follow the rules. Zelle wondered if the rules chafed Arno as much as they did her, but she’d never built up the courage to ask.
After placing a stack of old books on the table, he rested his hands in his lap. His tailored suit-coat wrinkled at the inner shoulders, the only fault in his carefully constructed appearance. “Do you have a preference today?” He blinked his eyes slowly as he waited for her response.
She bit her lip, wondering if she dared answer the question truthfully. She did have a preference, but it wasn’t permitted.
Arno tipped his head to the side. “You have something on your mind.” His dark brown eyes never wavered. He stared at her so intently, it was as if he were trying to read her thoughts.
Zelle almost laughed aloud at her folly. As intelligent and intuitive as Arno was, reading minds was not something he could do. It was not something anyone could do, much as the scientists were trying. Her mind was the only place Zelle had ever been able to run free, so she fervently hoped they would never succeed with their experiments.
She nodded at her tutor. “Yes. I do have something on my mind.” She wondered now if it were worth the risk to share her thoughts with Arno. She didn’t want to place him in danger, but time was running out. She was beginning to feel a crushing sensation on her chest at night as she lay in bed, as if a large heavy weight were pushing down on her. She was almost to the point of struggling to breathe when she thought about her predicament too much.
Arno leaned in, selecting a book off the top of the pile and opening it as he spoke to her in murmured tones. “If there is something you wish to discuss, I am open to bending the rules a bit today. We have only a short time remaining before your birthday.”
She tried very hard to smother the smile that wanted to consume her face. Arno had taught her some things that were probably on the not-permitted list, but he’d never openly flaunted the rules.
“Are you suggesting a birthday gift?” she teased.
He showed no sign of having heard her suggestion other than to scratch at his temple. He pushed the book closer and opened the cover, speaking while looking at the first page. “I have been told that once you reach your eighteenth birthday, there will no longer be any need of my services.”
Zelle’s smile disappeared in an instant. She took the book from Arno, centering it on the table in front of her, and flipped through pages, pretending to be occupied with their work when inside her heart felt more than a bit crushed.
“Do they mean to take away my education?” Her hands trembled and bile rose in her throat, burning it and making her feel as though she were choking. She massaged her neck, attempting to rub the discomfort away.
He reached over, running a finger down the page, giving the impression of discussing something in the text with her. “I do not know. I am not privy to the decisions being made by people above me. However, it would be foolish to think that your duties would not change once you’ve reached … this age.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want things to change. Or at least, not in the way they want to change them for me.”
Several moments of tense silence passed between them before Arno continued. He nodded slowly as he spoke. “I have hesitated to say anything to you until this point, but I know you dream of a life outside the tower.”
Her heart raced at the idea that he had seen into her soul, that he knew the things about which she had never spoken. “Yes,” she said, her voice rough from nerves.
He turned the page of the book and then rested his forehead in his hand, effectively blocking his lips from being read by the watchers. He spoke low enough to prevent the listeners from picking up the details. “If I were to tell you that there were others who did not agree with your confinement, what would you say to that?” He paused before adding to his statement. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. Because for me to discuss this in reality would be punishable by death.”
She nodded, gesturing with her hands and pointing to the book to imitate someone very engaged with the lesson. Her voice was also low enough to avoid detection. “I understand the punishment, although I realize it would be more harsh for others than myself. I would be happy to seek freedom on my own. I merely need to find a way out. Most of the tower is still off-limits to me and therefore a mystery.”
He closed the book and put it back on the pile, not looking at her as he straightened the texts and moved the stack to the edge of the table. “I could have a key.”
She glanced at her timepiece and then at him. “Is our lesson over already?”
He shook his head, speaking in a normal tone again. “No, our lesson isn’t over. I reserved time in the gardens so that we might discuss the botanical names for the flowers on the west side. It’s been a while since we’ve done that, and I fear you have forgotten much of what I tried to teach you before. You know that when you have New Earth’s children, you will be expected to take them often to the gardens and share your knowledge of the things growing there.”
She tried not to look too excited about the opportunity of having a private and forbidden conversation with her favorite tutor, about life outside the tower. Too much happiness at this point in her life could be dangerous. Any of the watchers or listeners who paid attention to her daily life had to know she hadn’t been happy and wasn’t looking forward to being a brood queen for the entire human race. To appear happy now would awaken their suspicions that something was amiss.
She looked at her timepiece again. “I suppose I could work it into my schedule. I have weapons training after this, and I must get back in time to change my clothing first.”
He folded his hands on top of the books that were now before him. “You must be at expert-level now with the sword, dagger, and wire. How wonderful.” His smile was forced.
She nodded, not sure what he expected to hear from her, but doing her best to play along. “Yes, and in several hand-to-hand disciplines. It’s helpful to have a way to work off the frustration.”
He tilted his head at her. “Frustration? Whatever could you be frustrated about? You have everything you could possibly need right here in the tower, your every wish granted.” He gave her a smile that she suspected was meant for the cameras, while the twinkle in his eye seemed to be saying that he did not feel the truth of his words. He was the smartest of her tutors and not necessarily from a family of privilege, though he never gave her the impression of being destitute. Perhaps he knew enough of the real world to see that she was living in a gilded cage, much like Bird.
“You are correct. But I often miss the company of other girls. Men can be so tiresome.” That last comment was for those who managed her. They called themselves her fathers, but she knew better. The man who had contributed to her biological makeup no longer lived. She had been informed of this on her fourth birthday.
“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Arno stood and walked to the door.
She nodded and followed him out of the room, tricking herself into believing that she could feel the eyes of the watchers burning brands into her back.
* * *
The gardens were kept for the enjoyment of everyone who worked in the tower, those who catered to Zelle’s every need and cared for her, but she was the only visitor. She used to go frequently, but her trips had become fewer over the years. What had once been a beautiful and special corner of her world had become another symbol of her prison. There was a beauty there she could touch, but it never changed. The plants were always kept trimmed to the exact same size, and the colors of the flower petals never varied. It looked exactly the same on this day as it had looked ten and fifteen years ago.
The garden was monitored like all the other rooms in the ivory tower, but there was only so much the microphones could pick up. Zelle had been taught about the technology that the watchers and listeners used, and she had reached the point in her training where she could set up and break down their entire system blindfolded. It was because of this extensive knowledge that she was confident that if she and Arno stuck to the center of the path, where the trees grew too high to have closely overhanging branches, they were assured a relatively private conversation. It felt dangerous and exciting to be there, walking side-by-side with Arno.
“I expect the guards to come and remove you at any moment,” Zelle said. She looked over her shoulder to confirm they weren’t there. Their blue uniforms with black collars were something both to be feared and admired. They had rescued her as a child when she got lost wandering the ivory tower alone, but they had also been there to stop infractions from occurring. More than one of Zelle’s tutors had disappeared from the rolls never to be seen again. She was never told what happened to them, but she feared the worst. It was for that reason that she was always cautious about putting her teachers in danger. But today, it seemed as if Arno were ready to take a risk, and her birthday was too close to play it safe anymore. She decided to take the risk with him.
“I have been given the task by the High Council of preparing you for the transition,” Arno said. “I am certain they believe that I am telling you right now what an honor it will be for you to carry the next generation of humans in your womb and to raise them as our ancient ancestors used to.”
She worked to keep her expression impassive. “Yes. I’m sure that is what is expected of you. And I’m sure I am expected to nod and smile and tell you what a great honor it is, and how I cannot wait to give birth to a minimum of thirty humans, preferably all girls who can be put in their own beautiful ivory towers to become mothers of future generations.”
He smiled. “Then we both know our roles and who we should be today.”
She couldn’t keep the desperation from seeping into her voice. “But I don’t want to be that person.”
His voice was almost soothing. “Nor do I.”
“So where does that leave us?” Her heart was thumping so loudly, she feared the listeners would hear it, that Arno would hear it. She wanted him to think her brave and fearless. She felt confident she could be that person, too … in a moment … after this feeling of incredulity had passed. This was the first time in eighteen years anyone had openly shown scorn for the work of the High Council in her presence.
“My statement earlier about a hypothetical group was not entirely honest,” Arno said, his words coming out rushed. He’d never spoken like this before. It made her even more nervous.
“There is a group of people who would like to rescue you from your situation. They do not believe it is fair that you are forced to live under the directives of the High Council. They believe in your right to self-determination.” He paused to look at her. “Do you remember that lesson?”
She nodded, her chin lifting ever so slightly. “Self determination: the right of every individual to decide for himself who he should be and what he stands for.”
He started walking again. “Exactly. You always were my best pupil. There is something wrong with that maxim, though, is there not?”
She nodded, entirely sure of her answer, even though this had never been a part of their lesson. “They always use the pronoun his. As if by simply being a girl, I do not have the right to self-determination. But I don’t agree with that. I believe all of the inhabitants of the ivory towers should be allowed to choose for themselves what they do with their lives.”
“Then we are agreed. If you wish, I can set you on the road to self-determination.”
“How?” Her hands had become sweaty. She slowly rubbed them together and smoothed her hair back in an effort to appear unaffected, concerned only by such things as the botanical name for the oak tree overhead. She and Arno would not be overheard where they were standing, but they would be seen.
Zelle had been the beneficiary of many lessons in self-control and various combat techniques, including how to respond as a prisoner of war. As long as she could remember, the High Council worried about an uprising of men wanting to take part in the pleasures they were denied—those only offered at the ivory tower to a select few male specimens hand-picked by the High Council. Her caretakers were concerned that these desperate men would try to overwhelm the security forces and take her captive, so she had been taught to fight for her own protection. The irony was not lost on her; she was using their training to protect herself from them.
Arno pointed to a bed of red flowers bordered by an ivy-covered stone wall. She expected to hear him say Dianthus chinensis, but she was wrong about his intent.
“There is a door on the ground level of the tower that is just off the kitchens on the east side, a delivery entrance. These are the same kitchens in which you’ve had cooking lessons every Thursday. Just inside that door are the laundry bins that service the entire tower. Each day, those bins are picked up, and new bins and clean linens are delivered. Later this evening, in the third used-laundry bin from the door, there will be a pair of men’s trousers, shirt, jacket, boots, gloves, and hat in your size. You must put them on and walk out the door at 8:30 tonight. No earlier, no later.”
They were reaching the end of the lane. It was time to turn and walk back. Zelle did the calculation of time, rate, and distance in her mind and knew that they had approximately ninety seconds remaining in their walk to complete their plan for her escape.
* * *
“And how will I do this?” Zelle’s mind was racing with possibilities. It would be one thing to deliver men’s clothing in a bin without being detected; it was another to put that clothing on and leave without someone seeing, hearing, or being alerted to the subterfuge. The ivory tower was a fortress; no one entered or exited without being watched by many sets of eyes and many electronic devices tuned in to biorhythms and microchip identification. “How will I get past all of the security?”
“We have friends,” Arno explained. “It has all been arranged. My job was to determine if you were willing, and you appear to be. All you need to do is put on the clothing, hide your dress in the bin, and go out the door at eight thirty exactly.”
She wanted to believe him, but it all seemed too simple. “I know these systems, Arno. The technology was designed to sniff out trouble, and it does a very good job of it. It has never failed as far as I know, and it has caught many people trying to enter the tower who did not have the right to be here.”
“I cannot tell you any more than I already have. Many people have put their lives at risk to help you. The more I reveal, the more risk they take on, and I cannot accept more responsibility for their lives than I already have. Just know that if you walk outside that door, there will be someone there to take you, and you will not be detected as you leave the tower. This I can almost guarantee.”
Even though Arno had been very clear, she still had to ask the one question that was swirling around in her mind, so that they both could thoroughly agree on what they were talking about doing and what it could mean for them. “And what if I am caught? What happens then?”
He stared straight ahead as his shoulders shrugged very slightly. “Those who helped you would be executed, and you would be returned to the tower to fulfill your duty to the people.”
Her smile carried no humor. “Not so terrible for me, but pretty awful for those other people.”
He nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets, the first sign that he was not entirely comfortable with everything they were discussing. “You are correct. They will be at great risk. But, I would be remiss if I did not warn you of the risk you take as well. While your life may go back to normal here at the tower on the surface, I don’t believe it would feel that way to you. I believe you would notice more eyes on you, more restrictions, and less … “ He paused searching for the right words. “Less forgiveness.”
“Do you believe I have been forgiven?”
He took his time answering. “I would say that of the four princesses, you are the one who questions authority most stridently. And yet here you are, walking in the gardens with a fully functioning male and no escort.”
Too much of what he said hit her at once and overwhelmed her good sense. She seized his arm for a moment before realizing that this would signal to the watchers that she’d become overly excited. She released him and pointed to the trees, acting as though she’d seen a very special insect or butterfly there. “You know of the other three? You’ve never told me. I have asked and you’ve never told me.”
“I have not met them, but I know others who have.”
“Tell me everything, Arno.”
“I cannot. Our time has come to a close.” He looked meaningfully at the glass doors that marked the end of the pathway and led into the citrus room. Four guards were standing there awaiting Zelle’s approach, two of them her latest training instructors. They would be certifying her competence in expert-level marksmanship and combat maneuvers today.
She paused and turned slightly to face her tutor. “I will be there. And please thank all of your friends for helping me.”
He nodded and turned off the path, leaving her with the guards.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in a blur of panic and excitement, the likes of which Zelle had never experienced before. She had, off and on over the years, dreamed of a different life than the one that had been planned for her, but this was the first time a change had felt real, as if it were actually possible. She was not prepared for the depth of emotion this reality brought with it. Tears were hidden behind her sleeve and joy was disguised as pride at excelling in combat training.
After careful consideration, she had come up with the excuse that would have her down in the kitchens without supervision at the time arranged for her escape. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the only one she could imagine working. Trying to get from her tower room to the ground level in the kitchens at night without anyone detecting her movements would be impossible; her best bet was to allow all of the tower’s inhabitants to know where she was but not what she was really doing.
All of her training and education was over for the day, and she waited at her window for the sun to go down. She had showered and changed after her last lesson, emerging from the bathroom to find a shiny new medallion she could pin to her dress sitting on the small table in her room, signifying that she had reached the last qualifying combat level. She would not take it out of its box. She was not proud of being a warrior, but she wasn’t naïve either. What she had learned here would prepare her for the life that she sought.
She opened the window wide and let the outside air in, ruffling Bird’s feathers. She was seized by an emotion, looking into the creature’s eyes. It felt wrong to be leaving this place and forcing him to stay. She walked closer to the cage and looked between the bars.
“Bird, do you want to leave? Do you wish to have a different life than the one given to you here?”
He had everything he needed right there in his cage: fresh water and seed, the occasional piece of fruit. She reached up and released the clasp on the door, opening it wide as she had the window. “I don’t mind if you want to go. You won’t hurt my feelings.” She stepped back two paces, waiting for him to escape his prison and take the freedom she was offering.
Bird did nothing, giving no sign that he even realized what she had done. After a few moments he turned around on his perch and faced the wall.
His actions confused her and then broke her heart when she realized what they meant; he had given up hope of ever being free. He saw the open door as a cruel joke. Or maybe he lacked the strength to start his life again. Perhaps he didn’t want to be alone. Sadly, she realized that this could have happened to her. It was possible if she stayed and gave birth to a child, that she would never want to leave. She would settle into her duty and be glad to remain in her gilded cage. The thought made her desperate to run down to the kitchens now, even though it was too early.
She shook her head and brushed away a tear, turning so the watchers would not see her emotion. She spoke loud enough this time for the listeners to hear. “I will leave the window open so that you may have some fresh air. When I come back later, I will close it.”
She wasn’t ready to give up on Bird, even though he had given up on himself. She pretended to latch the cage door, but in fact merely closed it most of the way, hoping it was her presence scaring him from exercising his natural curiosity, and that after she left, he would go through the door and out the window before her disappearance was discovered and they were once again made prisoners.
* * *
Checking the timepiece in her pocket against the setting of the sun, Zelle determined it was time to go. She walked over to the communications center near her door and connected to the person she would most likely discuss her coursework with, one of her fathers. She pressed the button and began to speak, not waiting to confirm he was there. There was no need; he was always there.
“Father, I’m going down to the kitchens. There is a sauce that I learned once but I do not remember how to make it. It’s important that I remember.”
A deep voice devoid of emotion came over the speaker, ringing around the room. “Do you require assistance, daughter?”
“No. It may take me some time, and I’m comfortable alone. I would like to see if I can do it without anyone’s help.”
There was no answer for a few seconds. Her heart was beating wildly. Had she sounded innocent enough? Would he feel the need to join her? It was not his way, but things were rapidly changing in her world. Perhaps they sensed her restlessness and would feel the need to keep her closer.
“As you wish. Please be back to your room in one hour. You need your sleep. In two days the grand celebration will be upon us.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. The pride. The High Council’s members were all very pleased with themselves over their accomplishment. They had taken this girl child, raised her from an infant to a woman, and now they would be presenting her to the world. Their Mother. Their Savior. Their whore.
“Yes, Father.” She took one last glance at Bird with his beak to the wall before leaving her room.
* * *
There were watchers and listeners in the kitchens, but they were not as concentrated and focused on every corner of the space. Over the years, she had identified the various eyes and ears in the room. There were two areas where one could be working and not be seen: the secondary stovetop and the storage pantry. So long as she was making some noise at this cooking station, she believed she would be safe from prying observers. It was the reason she had selected a sauce as her project. She did not know from Arno how long his friends would have control over the surveillance systems of the tower, and she didn’t want to risk the lives of people who were trying to help her.
She pulled out various utensils and a saucepan, placing them over near the stove. She began to whistle, a tune that was easily stuck in one’s mind with a repeating chorus that could go on forever. The first several bars of the music she hummed into the recording device at her wrist whenever she was out of sight of the cameras. She managed to go into the back of the kitchen to retrieve ingredients and verify that the clothing promised was in its place.
The only people she had ever seen in the tower were tutors, medical professionals, guards, and her fathers. The rough clothing hidden in the bin was not familiar to her. It made her mission seem even more exciting. Zelle would be in a disguise that would fool even herself.
It was difficult to manage such a mundane chore as making sauce while her mind raced from one drastic scenario to another. Her capture. Her success. Her future. Her past. It all swirled together in one giant maelstrom of emotion. There was plenty of fear there, but overwhelming that emotion was excitement. For the first time in her life, she was actually excited about her future and the potential that it might hold. Always before, there was no potential, only finality.
She began the process of making sauce, measuring the ingredients as if she were really going to accomplish her project, all the while continuing to hum into the recording device. Dressing in the uniform would take her approximately one minute and fifteen seconds. Sweat formed between her shoulder blades and dropped down her back as the night moved on and she got closer to the departure time.
When she was two minutes from the appointed time, she placed her recording device on the small countertop next to the stovetop and pressed play. Her voice issued forth from the speaker, soft and haunting. She turned the heat off the stove and slid the pan away from the hot surface. Slowly and quietly, she made her way into the back room. She prayed there were no eyes here now. This was not a place she was expected to be.
Quickly, she removed the shapeless sack that was her night clothing, and once down to her underthings, pulled each item of her new uniform out of the bin with shaking hands. The trousers were a bit short, but the thick, woolen socks that were too long would cover her bare ankles easily. Worn workboots with repaired laces were sturdier than any footwear she had ever been given before. Over her cotton underthings went a scratchy shirt, a heavy vest, and finally an overcoat. She was sweating from her exertions and the adrenaline flowing through her system, so she did not button or zip the jacket. She did, however, tuck her long, thick braid up under the cap provided.
Her last move was to run over to the door and rub her hands along the floor near the entrance, the dirtiest place in the room. She took the grit that she pulled from the hard surface and applied it liberally to her face, hoping it would obscure her very pale skin. She feared she would glow like a candle in the night, otherwise.
The timepiece she’d transferred to the large pocket in the overcoat hung down by her right thigh. She pulled it out one last time and verified the time. Five seconds until departure.
She listened for signs coming from the kitchen that would indicate someone paying her a visit, but there was nothing but the sound of her own voice, humming over and over, the same tune, always the same. Just like her life.
She grasped the handle of the door and turned it, expecting it to be locked. All of the tower doors were always kept locked. But this time it wasn’t. It opened easily and swung out into an exterior space.
This space was nothing like her tower’s interior. Whereas everything inside was white or cream, this place was dark gray and brown, its odors foreign to her nostrils. Air that carried the heavy stench of oils and fumes hit her in the face. She had smelled hints of these things from time to time on the clothing of various guards, but never fresh in the air like this. She inhaled deeply, taking a moment to orient herself to the room.
It was a garage or hangar of sorts, housing several vehicles, some with wheels, others with hover technology. None of them appeared occupied, but down the line, a single red light flashed on the back of one of them.
She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, experiencing what felt like a small heart attack when she realized there was no going back now; she had officially left the tower for the first time in her life. Zelle had broken the most hard and fast rule she’d ever been issued: Never, ever leave the tower. It is not safe, they’d said.
The boots she was wearing made more noise than her slippers, but it was too late for that regret, and too late to go back and retrieve the lighter footwear. This would be her new uniform, come what may.
She reached the vehicle, dismayed to find that it was one with wheels and not hover technology. Her studies had informed her that these craft were less reliable and took a lot longer to reach their destinations. The only benefit to using such a transport was that it would be able to go to some places where hovercraft could not.
She stepped up to the passenger door and peered in the window to find an empty seat. A face leaned over from the other side and spoke. “Get in,” the man said in a low voice, easily heard through the thick glass.
The door popped open and Zelle fit her fingers into the seam, pulling it free from its frame so she could enter. This was the first time she had ever been in a vehicle. It was surreal to finally experience something that she had only read about and discussed with people having more knowledge than her, people who lived outside the tower.
It struck her like a bolt of lightning: she was now a person who lived outside the tower. That knowledge made her nearly giddy and then very afraid. She had never been so far out of her element.
The man was old and grizzled. He smelled of someone who did not shower often and did not care to. There had been few occasions in the tower when she had run into people like this. She was always ushered away, and she never knew their purpose for being there, but that didn’t stop her from wondering. Perhaps he was a supplicant to the High Council? Or perhaps this was how all people smelled outside of the tower?
She resisted the urge to pinch her nose and instead decided to enjoy it. Her life had always consisted of the same things, recurring over and over again. Finally, this was something different. It was what she had asked for, after all. She was going to embrace these variations from her standards, the differences that made people outside the tower so much more interesting to her than the ones inside.
“Keep your head down. It’s good you dirtied your face, but it’s still not enough.”
She bent over at the waist, placing her face in her hands and her faith in the stranger. “Thank you,” was all she could manage.
The reality of what she had done was hitting her hard, the adrenaline making her entire body tremble. The risk she had taken based on the word of a mere tutor was the most foolhardy thing she had ever done in her life. Perhaps it would be the last thing she would do with her life. She had not considered how she could be placing herself in danger by following Arno’s instructions before, but now it seemed a distinct possibility.
Where was this man taking her? Would she be brought to a city and left to fend for herself? Did they have a specific place already set up for her? Or maybe they had other intentions. It was impossible to know, and she feared asking. Instead, she braced herself against the sides of her seat as the vehicle moved out of the hangar and into the world.
The vehicle made several stops along the journey, but none of them longer than a few seconds. She wanted to check her timepiece to see if the recording she had left behind was still playing, but she feared moving. Instead, she tried to memorize the directions that the vehicle was taking in case she changed her mind and wanted to go back. That wasn’t going to happen, she knew, but it gave her something to think about rather than all of the worst case scenarios that kept floating through her mind.
“We are out of the city,” the man said. “You can sit up now.”
Zelle pulled her hands off of her sweaty face and slowly sat up. The landscape had changed. Even though it was quite dark, she could see that they were out in a wilderness of sorts. The city lights were behind them, and the road had lost its smooth quality. They were bumping along now, and the force of the tires slamming into the holes tossed her around like she was a mere rag doll.
“Where are we going?” Zelle braced herself against the door, hanging onto it in an effort to keep her body from being bruised.
“Somewhere safe. With my people.”
“Are they Arno’s people? Are you part of the same … family?” There were families and tribes and clans populating New Earth. She was almost sure Arno had told her that he was part of a family, but she could be wrong about that. Personal questions had always been discouraged.
He nodded his head and grunted at her, not exactly answering but calming her fears slightly. If Arno was there, everything would be fine. She trusted him. He had opened up the outside world to her mind for many years, even at risk to himself, and now he had opened it to her body, too. That had to mean something.
* * *
She feared taking out her timepiece and aggravating her escort by seeming impatient or distrusting, so it was impossible to know exactly how much time had passed before they arrived at the camp, but it felt to be at least an hour. The vehicle pulled off the road and into a shed made of broken trees. The engine shut down along with all of the interior and exterior lighting. They sat together in the dark for a moment before the man spoke.
“Stay close to me.” He left the vehicle after issuing his order, and Zelle scrambled to follow. It took her a few moments to find the release button on the door, and she nearly spilled out of the vehicle when it popped open without warning. She scrambled to her feet, not wanting to be left behind in that dark place, the place where she knew nothing and no one.
The immensity of what she had done was almost overwhelming. The tactical operations officer who had taught her wartime strategies had often made a point of impressing upon her how critically important it was plan movements well in advance. ‘Failing to plan, is planning to fail,’ he’d always said. She hadn’t planned this maneuver for more than six hours, thereby violating the most important rule of engagement. According to her teachers, this meant she would surely lose. There were so many missteps she could take now, it was mind-boggling, but her only option was to move forward into her unplanned and uncertain future.
She got to her feet and stood as straight as possible. It was time to face her new destiny, and she wouldn’t do it cowering like a helpless child, and she wouldn’t do it by turning her back and facing the wall like Bird had done. She had not yet lost her will to be free.
At first she saw nothing but the back of the large man in front of her. He was wearing clothing that had been patched in many places and was almost worn through in others. She had difficulty swallowing when she realized this meant she had joined an encampment that could not afford to clothe its members properly. She took another step, reminding herself that she did not need money or material things to be happy. Basic necessities like food, clothing, and shelter would do just fine.
There was a circle of light ahead, and it appeared to be the place where the man was heading. When he reached the edge of it he turned to her. “Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Stay close to me.”
His words chafed. She had come from a place where her days were ordered and her activities arranged, but she had never been directly ordered not to speak. During her education, questions were encouraged and opinions were shared. Of course she censored her words, careful not to indicate that she wasn’t happy, but that was her own limitation. What was happening here did not feel right.
The man moved to the side, exposing a circle of faces before her. They belonged to men, of course, most of them clothed like her driver. There was one, however, who stood out and looked as though he did not belong.
When he stepped closer into the light, Zelle smiled and lifted her hand in greeting. “Hello, Arno.”
The large man turned violently to her and leaned in very close, his proximity making it possible to smell his fetid breath and feel his spittle land on her face. “I told you not to speak!”
He lifted his arm, and her instincts took over. As his hand came down to strike, hers went up, easily blocking the blow and sending it sideways. Her driver stumbled, thrown off balance by his own strength being redirected.
Men who had begun to move stopped. Everything froze and went silent. The expression on the driver’s face was terrifying; he clearly did not like being subverted. It looked as though he were winding up to try again when Arno’s voice cut him off.
“Father. Stop. I told you, she is an innocent. She has no idea what she’s doing.”
Zelle looked at Arno, not sure she comprehended what was happening. The soft, measured tone that she was used to hearing was missing from Arno’s voice; instead, there was a hardness there, something cold she would never have associated with him before.
“Arno, I don’t understand.” She took a step toward him, but was suddenly barred from further progress by a large arm across her chest. She looked up at the large man who had brought her to this place.
His eyes were dark, his brows drawn together. “Not another step.”
There were murmurs in the crowd, everyone taking turns glancing from the man, to Arno, and then to Zelle. Several took a step forward, getting closer.
Arno looked to his people and then moved, stopping just in front of Zelle and the man Zelle now knew as Arno’s father.
“Welcome, Zelle. Welcome to the encampment of the Hinter people.”
“The Hinter people?” This was not something Arno had ever mentioned in their studies, and he had been the one to tell her of the various tribes around the towers.
“Yes. The Hinter people. Your new family.” He turned to the side and gestured to the men standing in the light.
Zelle tried to swallow, but it was as if there was a large lump blocking her throat. None of the men looked as though they had bathed in the last week. They resembled the savages that she and Arno had looked at in pictures in one of his old textbooks. She would not have been surprised to see spears in their hands or knives made of flint hanging from their belts. Because she had been trained to, she did notice the few weapons that were there, most of them on the crude side, but there were also a smattering of other more sophisticated arms that could easily be used against her.
This change in Arno’s character and the fact that he referred to this large, brutal man as his father told Zelle all she needed to know about the Hinter people and the game that Arno had played so well on both her and the High Council. He had always won at chess and now she knew why; he played the long game, and he had a great strategy.
She should have paid more attention to Bird. He had been free once, perhaps. Maybe he had flown the world and seen what was out there. Maybe he knew he was better off in his gilded cage. Regret burned like acid in her chest.
“Is this your entire tribe?” Zelle asked. Her training was kicking in. Add up the numbers, assess the threat. Plans for a diversion and escape required knowledge of many details to be successful.
“This is everyone.” Arno once again gestured to the men. “We gathered here to welcome you. Once you get settled in, you can greet each man individually and decide which one or ones you want to bed with.”
Disillusionment was replaced with fear. “Bed with?”
His smile was tight. “Yes. You will have the companion or companions of your choosing. Your life will be very different here than it was in the tower. In the tower, the High Council chose companions for you. Here, you will choose for yourself.”
She wanted to ask the one most obvious question: What if I don’t want to choose anyone? But she already knew the answer. The men were not drooling, but they were definitely looking at her with hunger in their eyes. She wondered how long Arno and his father would be able to hold off the more determined individuals. When she snuck a glance up at the large man, she saw hunger there, too. Surely he would expect to have his chance at being her companion. She suspected he would not take her answer of No very kindly.
She nodded. Her only hope was to play along and then escape. Where she would go, she had no idea. This entire land was alien to her as were these people. All of them were savages as far as she could tell. But the alternative was unthinkable. She would not lay with any of them.
Her mind buzzed with next steps and possible outcomes. If this was what she could expect from people living outside the tower, her only hope was to find a place where she could be alone. The human race could go on without her and die off if that was what it would take to gain her freedom. She ignored the guilt, telling herself she was no hero and that a human race that enslaved women didn’t deserve to carry on. She knew how to protect herself and she could survive in the wilderness. She wasn’t helpless, even though she was attempting to appear that way to these men.
For one crazy moment, she wondered if the High Council had envisioned this particular scenario playing out in her life. Why else would they have taught her all those things—combat, cooking, survival medicine, growing things—and made them a part of her formal education? If she were expected to remain within the tower for her entire life, she would never have needed any of those skills.
But no … it couldn’t be that they meant for this to happen. The High Council would never have wanted this for her. These men, the Hinter people, were not worthy of carrying on the human race, or so the High Council would say. And she couldn’t disagree.
Zelle knew she was no one to judge, but she also knew that Arno had disappointed her as deeply as any other man had, and his people were no better than the other men who had tried to control her life. The men of New Earth were all the same; they fashioned stories for her ears in a way that would cause her to go along with their ideas, but in their hearts they carried a different truth, one of enslavement and denial.
Arno had betrayed her. She would not let him know that she was aware of this, nor would she let him get away with it. She would be the meek little ghost she had been in the tower and bide her time until her moment came. He would be left to deal with the disappointment of his savage family on his own, and she would not feel any regret for that.
She nodded at Arno’s explanation. “I accept. I would now like to go to sleep. I am very tired. As you know, I’ve had a very long day.” She looked at the ground and folded her hands in front of her, hoping to give the impression of a frightened young girl needing protection.
“Come with me.” Arno took her by the arm and led her through the crowd. She kept her eyes cast downward, fearing visual contact with any of the hungry men. It would not take much to encourage them.
Soon they were past the hot, stinking bodies and out into the darker woods. He led her to a shelter that looked as if it had been pieced together with cast-off garbage from the tower. “There’s a bed in there. You should be able to sleep until light. I will come get you for breakfast. Don’t leave with anyone else as your escort. I cannot vouch that they will do the right thing.”
She warred within herself, wanting to tell him what she thought about his plans, about how disappointed she was that he had betrayed her, but also knowing that revealing her true feelings would place him on alert and cause him to be more vigilant. Her greatest strength now was her false ignorance and subservience. He must believe that she was too cowed to do anything but accept his determination for her.
“Okay. Thank you.” She turned away from him and faced the cot that would be her bed.
His footsteps brought him to the door but paused before exiting. “I’m sorry this is not as luxurious as the tower. But I never got the impression that those luxuries were very important to you.”
“You are correct. They were not.” She was not lying when she said this. Had there been a group of warm, welcoming people there not threatening to force her into repopulating the earth against her will, she wouldn’t have minded the hardness of the cot, the cold stickiness of the air, the lack of insulation in the walls or the roof. She would have simply welcomed the freedom these things represented. But this was not her reality; she had merely exchanged one prison for another, one captor for another. Her former instructor had been correct: Zelle’s failure to plan had become her plan to fail.
She thought Arno was going to leave, but he hesitated in the doorway.
“Was there something else?” she asked, not facing him.
“Zelle … “ His voice had a hitch in it. It was raspy, a tone she’d never heard issuing from his mouth. “Rapunzelle, let down your hair.”
She was frozen in place, not sure how to react. “My hair?”
“Let down your long hair. I want to see it.”
Goosebumps of fear covered her skin. This was an Arno she had never met before and didn’t wish to meet now. Maybe she had dreamed on occasion of a forbidden romance with her tutor, but those thoughts could not be further from her mind now.
She slowly lifted her cap from her head, allowing her braid to fall to her waist.
“Undo it. Let it free of the band that holds it tight.”
She shook her head. This felt wrong, like another violation of her free will and an invitation for trouble. And the fact that it was Arno committing this sin made her angry. She feared that she would attack him and ruin her chances at escape. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, begging him with her eyes to stop.
“Arno! What’re you doing in there?” someone shouted from beyond.
Arno’s gaze hardened, but he stepped backward, walking out the door in reverse. “Another time,” he said, closing the door behind him.
* * *
Zelle stood in the center of the room, looking at the small cutout that served as a window. There was no glass there or other covering, and wind whistled through the opening, keeping the room chilled. She would sleep with all of her clothing on if she slept at all.
She lay down on the cot to bide her time. Her escape must be tonight. Tomorrow, after the men had spent this evening imagining what they would do with her, gaining freedom would be impossible; they would all be watching and waiting for their opportunity to have her.
A group of men who were hungry for sex with one of the last four women in the world would need a very strong leader to keep them in line, and neither Arno nor his father seemed to have the strength of character to manage that. Tomorrow or the next day or a week after, it would become a free-for-all and she would be their victim.
Her plan-making kicked into high gear. They had weapons. She had her hands and feet, which were no match for bullets, but they were a match for anything else. She would wait until most of them were asleep, and then she would leave. No one would take the risk of injuring her seriously. They would try to take her by brute strength. And if anyone tried to stop her, she would use the maneuvers she had been taught to get away. If she hurt someone badly in the process, she would not feel sorry for them; they would have brought the pain upon themselves. Arno had promised her self-determination and she was going to get it.
A sound at her window caused her to sit up in a hurry. She thought she imagined it, and yet there was another sound just after the first, like a pecking that pierced the quiet of the night. Something was gently touching the edge of the windowsill. She stood to look out, and had to blink a few times to understand what she was seeing: the silhouette of a small creature.
Chirp. The creature made a sound.
Zelle moved closer. The light of a distant moon brought some color to the creature’s feathers.
“Bird!” she exclaimed in a very small whisper. “What are you doing here?”
He flapped his wings once and then turned around and faced outward.
Zelle walked closer and reached her hand out, expecting Bird to fly away, but he didn’t move. She stroked his feathers, relief flowing through her. He was just a bird, but he was here. Her only friend in this wild place. “You left the tower, too.” Her heart felt like it was swelling in her chest, in danger of bursting. Bird had followed her from the tower. She wasn’t alone.
How had Bird known she would be in that vehicle? Did he know she was in trouble? Did he know she was in a terrible place? Maybe all he knew was that men were savages, beasts who put creatures like him and Zelle in cages. But that seemed to be enough.
Looking out the window, Zelle saw bodies sleeping in groups. It appeared she was the only one offered an actual shelter. The scent inside it led her to believe it had been Arno’s or his father’s before it had been given to her. This was her new ivory tower. She almost laughed at how awful it was.
“It’s time for me to go, Bird. Will you come with me?” Zelle turned around and walked over to the door. She tried to push it open, but found it locked. She wanted to scream in frustration, but knew that would be contrary to her goals.
Back at the window, she stepped up on the cot, putting herself closer to the room’s only opening. It was small, but she was smaller. She took the borrowed jacket off and draped it over the sill, waiting a few moments to see if it would cause anyone to investigate. When no one came, she put her head and shoulders out of the opening and looked around.
There were two men sleeping on the ground not far from where she was, but they were definitely not awake, their snores blending together in a low hum. Bird took flight, but Zelle did not see where he went. There was no time to worry about her new partner, though. This might be her only chance to escape.
She slowly pulled herself up to and through the opening, delicately balancing on its sill at her belly as she grabbed the window’s edge at her hips. With her head pointed at the ground, she allowed her legs to fall in an arch toward the ground below, using her back and abdominal muscles to control their rate of descent.
Her spine slowly bent backward as her legs continued their downward path. Only when she couldn’t stand the stretching or the pain any longer did she release her hold on the window and throw herself the remaining distance to her feet, straightening as she went. She waited a moment for the leaves around her to stop rustling before continuing.
The air chilled her enough that she took the time to lift the coat from the sill and put it over her head and shoulders, hoping to make herself less visible as she walked slowly around the back of the shed. There was no one there, and this seemed like the direction she should go. Her eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, allowing her to make out her basic surroundings. There was no trail, but the ground was hard. She began to walk.
Her gaze shared time between the ground, looking for roots and other things bound to cause her to lose her footing, and the branches above, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bird. She felt tied to him now, their destinies entwined. He gave her hope that she could make it out, a feeling that she wasn’t completely and totally alone in the world. It was her concentration on what was above her that caused her to miss what had appeared right in front of her in her path.
“Where are you goin’?” the man asked.
Zelle didn’t recognize his face, but his clothing labeled him a possible member of the Hinter people.
“For a walk?” she said as he approached.
She waited until he was an arm’s length away before unleashing her training on him. She could not afford to wait for him to sound an alarm and spoil her escape.
Her first blow was to his Adam’s apple, the second to his larynx, and the third to his diaphragm. He would not be breathing easily or talking clearly for a long time.
The man bent at the waist and his legs began to buckle.
Zelle could not risk him going for his friends or coming after her, so she solved the problem with a swift kick to his knee and a blow to his temple. He fell to his side and his eyes closed as his breathing slowed to that of a person experiencing the deep sleep of the unconscious.
Straightening her clothing, Zelle walked on.
* * *
Zelle checked her timepiece frequently in an attempt to gauge how far she had gone. When the sun began to breach the horizon several hours into her trek, she broke into a run.
The ivory tower had automatic lifts to go from one level to another, but she had often taken the stairs, both as part of her training and because she liked the exercise. When she was running up the many flights of stairs, she would sometimes forget where she was and her mind would wander. It brought her to far-off places that she’d read about in Arno’s texts.
She couldn’t afford to indulge in daydreams during this run, but it didn’t matter; she had the stamina to go as far she needed. When the sun came up more fully, firing the landscape before her, she paused to take a look at her surroundings.
She saw where she had come from, a dark forested area that looked as if it had been burned to ash some years before. The landscape was just starting to grow back, shoots of green intermingling with black, sooty stumps and specters of once grand pines. Ahead of her was a denser forest, untouched by fire, and hills that led to mountains. The city and her tower lay in a valley below, the lights in windows tiny pinpricks that were slowly blinking out as the population greeted the sun’s rays.
Zelle needed to put a lot more distance between herself and the Hinter people; they had looked very determined and were smart and connected enough to sneak her out of the tower without any interference. Surely there would be other bands or tribes ahead as well. Her future did not look entirely bright, but Zelle was free, and it was her decision where she went.
A sound behind Zelle caused her to duck behind a tree trunk. Something had fallen on the path. Movement above caught her eye. It was Bird, and he was behind her, moving along the game trail she had been following. She stood and walked out from behind the tree.
“You’re following me.”
Bird stopped one tree over and took up residence on a low-hanging branch. He turned to face her and begin to clean his feathers.
“I’m leaving here, Bird. I don’t know where I’m going, and it could be dangerous, but if you want to come with me, you are welcome. I don’t mind having company.”
Bird took flight and landed on a closer branch. Zelle took it as his agreement. She looked out again at the valley below and at the dark, scorched area from which she’d come. A smile settled across her face as she realized that this was the first time in her life she’d taken a step in a direction that she wanted to go, and she wasn’t following directives handed down by someone else.
Self-determination. She would fight to keep it. And once she knew the ways of this world and how to hide and protect herself, she would seek out the others, the other girls the High Council had named princesses, trapped in their ivory towers, and forced to await a life they did not choose for themselves. It didn’t seem fair that she was the only one who had been given this privilege, so if they wanted it, she was going to see that they had it too. And then they would decide for themselves when and with whom they would populate New Earth.
She jogged on, leaving the path and heading for the hills and the mountains beyond.