Chapter Thirteen

“Cassie, your living unit is down here. It’s a two bedroom, two bath apartment with a living room and eat-in kitchen.” Kale stood near the end of the hall next to an open door, waving both arms in the air.

“Oh, this is really nice,” I said, entering a living room that sparkled with metallic fabrics of gray and smoky blue, and a big vase of flowers in the center of the coffee table. “Finally, I have a window.” The screen was down, blocking my view of the outside world, but enough light pierced through the weave of fabric to light the entire room.

Kale’s tour included a refrigeration and freezing unit stocked with food, a closet in the master bedroom full of clothes my size, equipped with a voice-activated rotating rack, and a master bathroom with toiletries in the cabinets and a therapeutic shower similar to the one I had in my hospital room.

“Well, if you have any questions, call me, or Travel can also help you,” she said before ordering the bathroom light to turn off. “He’s just down the hall.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added as we re-entered the kitchen. “Remember, you can’t leave this floor without permission or an escort.”

“I know,” I said sarcastically. “I read it in the contract.”

I walked Kale to the door, and a ding rang through the house when it closed behind her.

The kitchen was full of unrecognizable foreign machines that roasted, brewed, mixed, and crushed. One press of a button produced a perfectly brewed, caffeine-free vanilla latte. Another gave me a cold glass of carbonated lemonade. An appliance the size of a coffeemaker sliced a carrot into perfect coins, and the only thing I had to do was toss it into the bin on top and close the lid.

She told me I could make my own meals or have meals delivered by a bot. Bot delivery would definitely be easier. At my command, Liaison One displayed a menu on the closest monitor, and I scanned the items, knowing I could order anything I wanted.

No expense had been spared, only my freedom. And that freedom was replaced with a responsibility I didn’t want—raising a child, and in time, saving mankind. Was it a burden I could carry alone, or did I need someone like Travel to help me bear some of the weight, balance the worry, and ease me into the acceptance of my fate?

I strolled to the living room, stood in front of the window, and retracted the blind with the touch of a button. The sun was high, creating shadows against the compound’s buildings as clouds skated across the bright-blue sky. Below, tiny dots of people made their trek through the compound’s square, making their way in and out of a society I hardly knew and probably never would.

One man cut across the concrete, leaving the compound, and I remembered myself there on the night of my escape, my arms cranking and legs burning in a cold sprint to run away to anywhere but here. I could have died that night, and in doing so, taken a tiny life with me—one I didn’t know existed until yesterday. Here I was—pregnant and a stranger in a strange land. Dr. Little gave me one thing from my world—David Casper, my almost boyfriend—but was he or anyone else going to be enough to make me appreciate this world and my fate?

David had created quite a whirlwind his first week at Central. Girls were left whispering and giggling in his wake. He was invited to every party, and he couldn’t make it through the quad without being tugged on by someone who had to tell him his Australian accent was cool. But when it came to spending time with someone, he wanted to spend it with me.

A ding rang through my apartment, and on my L-Band I saw Travel standing in the hall.

“Hi,” I said as I opened the door with a tap.

“Hi. I, um, just wanted to see what you thought of your apartment.”

“I like it. How’s yours?” I asked as we walked into the living room.

“Identical to this one. Like clones.” He laughed. “Except for the view, since I’m on the other side of the building. I actually think yours is better. You’ll have to check mine out sometime.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to do that. So, have a seat,” I said, pointing to the couch. “Would you like something to drink? I figured out how to make lattes and fizzes.”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

I sat down next to him, hoping my close proximity wouldn’t make my half of the conversation any more awkward than it already was.

“So, I was told that you spent a lot of time traveling with your mom.”

“Yeah.”

“What was she…a paleo-something?”

“A paleontologist.”

“And what exactly is a paleontologist?”

“Someone who digs up dinosaur bones and studies them. I used to help her. You can learn a lot from just a single bone.”

“Like what?”

“Well, first we establish the species, age, and size of the dinosaur, and then we try to figure out how the dinosaur lived. You know, what it ate, how it reproduced—sometimes a whole life story can be told with one bone. We can also determine if the dinosaur was injured and died from its wound or survived and lived beyond its injury just by studying the bone growth.”

“I came from one bone.” His voice was almost a whisper.

“I know,” I whispered back, hanging my head.

“Where did the flowers come from? I don’t have a bouquet in my living room.”

“Then I’m pretty sure they’re from Ella, my physical therapist. She sent flowers to my hospital room, too. I think they’re from GenH1’s botanical garden. I love flowers, especially magnolias.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” He smiled and pushed a chunk of hair behind his ear like David used to do. “It looks like we had the same buyer,” he said, smoothing his shirt with his hand. We were dressed alike: white T-shirts and jeans.

“Didn’t you bring your own clothes?”

“No, I guess I should have. They told me a wardrobe had been provided for my convenience, and it’s not like I’ll be going anywhere anyway, right?” His tone bordered on being flirtatious, and I fought not to flirt back, trying to think of him as Travel instead of David.

“So, how are you feeling?” he asked, eyeing my stomach.

“I feel fine. And she’s fine,” I said, tugging the hem of my tunic. “I’m just tired, and when I’m tired, I start thinking about my life—what it used to be and where it’s going—especially now.”

“I do that, too—start thinking about my life, asking myself ‘What if this’ and ‘What if that,’ and thinking about all of the mistakes I made in my past. I have a lot of regrets. What about you? Any regrets?”

Regrets? I had plenty. I regretted leaving Central and going back to Arizona with my mom. I regretted getting into that helicopter on the night it crashed and I died.

“Well, I wish I could have spent more time with my grandfather. I didn’t grow up with a father, so he was like a father to me. I lived with him for one semester of my junior year. Every weekend, we’d make popcorn, watch old movies, and talk about life. I miss him a lot. There’s a lot from my century that I miss.”

“You’re so amazing. To think you survived over one thousand years to end up here, just in the nick of time, with the ability to reproduce and save the world. It’s still so hard for me to believe.”

“You are giving me way too much credit. It all has to do with chance, luck, and the new technology. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t give consent to be frozen and stored. It’s all a coincidence.”

“I believe everyone is here for a greater purpose, and this is yours. And now I know mine.” He placed his free hand on top of mine. “I have faith this will work.”

A ding-ding rang through the living room as Ella’s face appeared on my L-Band. “I forgot that I have a physical therapy session,” I said, standing and smoothing my T-shirt.

Ella didn’t say anything other than “Hello, Mr. Carson” when she and Travel passed each other at my door, but as soon as the door slid shut and he left, she asked with two bats of her eyes, “So, what was Travel doing here?”

“Oh, just checking out my apartment.”

“So is that what you called it in the twenty-first century?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I saw the way he looked at you when he left. He is the father of your baby after all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we have to be more than just friends.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d think about it. That guy’s a cutie-pie.” She bubbled with laughter. “If he was ten years older, I’d be fighting you for him. I’m ready to put a wedding ring on this finger.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. The egg ring glistened. “Hey, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” This better be a good one.

“Today your therapy session consists of a trip to the botanical building.”

“Yes!” I screamed.

“But a SEC has to come with us. It’s waiting in the hall. Dr. Little doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

My vision tunneled as we made our way to the East Wing, and I soon forgot that I was being followed by a SEC bot with active weapons, and focused on how many turns we made and which halls led the way out of this place. My ride in the A.G.-lift was the only thing eclipsed by my eagerness to see grass, trees, dirt, and rocks.

“This is it,” she announced as a glass double door in front of us slid open.

“Finally, fresh air and sunshine,” I said, taking a breath so deeply that I was momentarily light-headed.

The sky was blue, etched with a rip of clouds just above the roof of the wood-slatted botanical building. A star of sunlight burst through its uppermost slats as the sun slowly made its way to the brink of noon.

“It’s so beautiful.” The lath building curved like a Quonset hut at each end, but its center rose upward into an octagonal dome that was topped by an impressively carved fleur-de-lis. To its right was the Magnolia Café, an unimpressive building in comparison.

“Really? You think this old building is beautiful?”

“Yeah, of course. Oh, and there’s my magnolia tree.” I rushed up to its trunk to give it a big hug. Ella giggled and the SEC bot, which was now within two feet of me, stood at attention with cold eyes and an even colder rubbery smile.

“What’s that?” I asked, releasing my botanical friend. A hundred yards behind the botanical garden, a dull, chain-link type fence, at least eight feet tall, wrapped a rectangular plot of land of at least ten acres. Thigh-high grass ran the inside length of the fence, making it impossible to see the ground.

“The remains of some kind of old factory. A factory built before the plague.”

Tall buildings spread across the concrete landscape, their windows flashing in the afternoon sun. The patch of bleak land, unused and neglected, was out of place and an eyesore.

“Why is it still here? I’m surprised the whole thing hasn’t been torn down.”

“I’m not sure, something about the land being unusable. It contains some kind of pit.”

The wind shifted, and an odd odor filled my nostrils. She wrinkled her nose.

“The botanical building was supposed to be part of the Great Demolition after the Great Plague Migration, but one of the forefathers fought for its preservation and removed it from the list,” she continued. “Apparently he took refuge in this building while recuperating. Now it’s a registered landmark, one of only a few in the region, but like I said before, no one ever comes here, except for him.” She pointed at GROW as it came around the corner of the building, holding a pair of clippers.

“Have you ever been inside?”

“Nope.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

Between the lath, green leaves sparkled like jewels: emeralds, peridots, and jade. The building’s thick wooden door hung in its frame the old-fashioned way on two hinges. Ella nearly broke a sweat as she first pulled, then pushed, upon the heavy door and complained about either breaking a nail or getting a splinter, but she insisted on doing the honors. Apparently she wasn’t used to natural wood products.

“This is fabulous.” I eyed the rows of neatly trimmed plants and flowers. “Oh, and here’s a ginkgo.” I darted toward a raised bed of shrubbery.

“A what?” She cocked her head and her hips.

“A ginkgo. This is a ginkgo biloba, a deciduous seed fern. It’s known as the living fossil. They flourished during the Jurassic period. They’ve been around for over two hundred and seventy million years. My mom’s team found fossilized ginkgo in Utah. See how its leaves are shaped? It splits into two distinct lobes,” I said as I stroked one of its waxy leaves.

“Yeah, um, that’s great. I guess.” Ella inspected her manicure.

“Hey, what’s that?” My attention shifted to a planter made from crude, brown bricks.

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll ask Liaison One.”

While she made her query via her L-Bud, I ran my hand along the planter’s edge, noting bits of dried plant debris encased within the hard sand and clay.

“It’s the remains of an adobe building built by the indige-something people.”

“Indigenous.”

“Yeah, indigenous people in the eighteenth century. When this area was being leveled for the botanical building’s construction before the plague, part of the ancient structure was uncovered. The architect decided to use one of its remaining walls as a planter since the bricks were made from organic material.”

“Wow. This is such a find. You have no idea. These bricks must be over thirteen hundred years old. I’m going to excavate this site, set up my own dig. This is so amazing.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty amazing,” she said, disinterested. To a clone, they were obviously nothing more than rectangular cubes of dried mud.

But then her hands slipped from her waist to her stomach. “Oh no!” she screamed, dropping to her knees.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Help me up.” Her breathing was heavy, and she winced repeatedly, holding her pelvis as I pulled her onto her feet.

“Who should I call?”

Ella grabbed my shoulder, and I brought my arm around her waist.

“No one. Not yet. Just get me back into GenH1.” Her red lips stretched into a grimace as she doubled over and supported her gut with her forearm. “No, no, please, no. This can’t be happening.” She sank to her knees, almost taking me with her.

“I’ve called for a MED, and I’ve notified Dr. Little,” said the SEC in the same inconsequential tone it used to say hello.

Ella wailed, long sobs that made her shoulders quake. “Dr. Leo. I need Dr. Leo,” she cried while trying to catch her breath.

“Who’s Dr. Leo? What’s happening to you?” I asked, kneeling next to her.

“It’s not me. It’s…it’s the baby.”

The baby? What baby? Everything spun a swirl of brown and green. The adobe bricks blurred. The ginkgos became indistinguishable, and I dropped to the ground beside her.