The Chosen Ones
As we wake up, our first glance is towards the giant floor to ceiling window. We anxiously rake the blackness until we spot it, still there, hanging on. The orb.
Our sigh of relief is succeeded by a kind of collective existential crisis. What do we do now? Everything we ever cared about is millions of miles away.
But they, in their infinite wisdom, have thought ahead. My wristband throbs and the bud in my ear announces that it is time for morning gymnastics. The Divine will find work for idle legs to do.
“You must keep it.”
I don’t turn around as I contort my limbs into the strange shapes shown on the screen. I don’t ask how you know.
“It’s not safe. They will find out.”
I know this. I also know that you always wanted this, even Before.
For the hundredth time, I wonder whether we would still be together if none of this had happened.
You put press your hand against my cheek so that I have to look at you.
“You have to keep it. Promise me – “
“Shh!” I shake my head, pointing at the walls. We both know they could be listening.
*
I wonder where to go, who to ask.
Before, when I could have gone somewhere white and warm and sterile in the middle of the day, when I could have told everyone I knew, I swore that I would never do it.
I shake my head at my own naivety. It’s hard to put myself back in the head of that girl, the one who worried whether her bag matched her shoes and fretted over colleagues’ lunch invites.
I force the trowel into the unyielding earth, covertly observing the women around me.
Five minutes in and already I am hot and uncomfortable, sweating under my nylon skin. Before, I used to dream about quitting my job and joining a co-op, working on the land every day. I didn’t know then that those dreams would soon come true. That they would soon become nightmares.
Of course, if I let this go ahead, I could stop. I could walk over to my supervisor right now and she would take me to the sundeck and let me rest. They would feed me the good food, the real food, and maybe even let me watch one of the few surviving shows from Before. But I can’t be that selfish.
My eyes settle on Brooke. If she took off her helmet, I know her hair would be close cropped. Pragmatic. Unsentimental. Brooke is one of those who fare better here than they ever did on the orb. Down there, she was a loony survivalist with social anxiety and a year’s supply of drinking water. Here, her knowledge of gardening methods in adverse weather conditions makes her practically royalty. I don’t usually see her, she only comes to work with us a few times a month, for morale. I take her presence as a sign that I made the right decision, and make another one.
“Can we talk?” I tilt my head to the side of the watch building.
Even under the mask I can see Brooke frown. She nods almost imperceptibly.
I pretend to show her my trowel, gesture at it, hoping that my poor acting will make them think that there is something wrong with it. She follows me to the watch building, where there are fresh trowels, and past it, out of camera range.
“What’s up?”
I hesitate. For someone who used to talk about sex all the time, this is surprisingly awkward.
“I… have a problem.” I gesture at my abdomen.
She raises her eyebrows.
I nod.
My stomach suddenly clenches. What if I read Brooke all wrong? She loves this new life, all cold-blooded and counted out, marked by wanting.
I raise my hand, my middle and ring fingers touching my thumb, the stupid hand signal we invented for ourselves when we were teenagers. I can’t tell whether she recognises it, whether her expression has changed.
“Come to the hangar tonight at 8. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone.”
*
I can feel my heart beating in my chest as I walk past the assembly hall. There is no one around. We are not allowed to go to the hangar, or maybe that’s not quite it. We have no reason to go to the hangar, and we never do anything without a reason. Right now, I am supposed to be resting for my early morning shift.
Maybe it’s because of what I’m about to do, but I think I can feel it for the first time. Impossible, of course, just my imagination. A small knot in my abdomen, pulsing, feeding, growing. I try to picture what it looks like and find that I can’t. I feel nothing. I don’t know whether it’s the situation or whether I’m like my mother, hopelessly devoid of maternal instincts.
Lying to you was easy. You came over at lunchtime, rushing into the women’s section and pulling me away from the crowd.
“We can do this. A new life is a miracle and a blessing. I’m excited!”
I want to tell you that you sound like you swallowed one of the propaganda leaflets but instead I smile and nod. “Me too.”
I turn the corner of the assembly hall and there it is. Huge from this perspective, undiluted by glass or plastic. The orb. Glowing blue with swirling white shrouds, slowly rumbling around the sun like it has done for billions of years. The thought of what is still down there is like a blade to my chest.
Why me? The question has haunted me every night since I got here. Anyone can see why the Divine chose Brooke. And you, with your strong and able hands, your head full of tools and angles. What is it about me? Anything I ever was and ever did I left down there.
The hangar is as quiet as the deserted assembly hall, no longer lit up and buzzing with new arrivals. I remember those frantic first few weeks when I would run down here every evening, scanning the faces. Every night I walked back alone.
I can see Brooke’s outline now, standing by the open door. My own footsteps pound in my ears as I walk up to her. I think of the fervour on her face when we sing our new anthem at morning assembly. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone.
Back when all this was still no more than harmless dinner conversation, we drove out to the beach one morning. They had cleared away the plastic and the sea was calm for once. Jenna took off her shoes and ran to the water’s edge, waited until a wave came right up to her toes, then jumped back at the last moment shrieking with glee. You looked at me and I was sure, at that moment, that I wanted children, that we would grow old together, that the doomsayers were wrong. Nothing could happen to us under that brilliant blue sky.
I am right in front of Brooke now but she is too tall, too large. A new life is a miracle and a blessing.
We were all chosen for a reason.
About the author
Nina Franz is a lawyer turned writer based in London. Her work has been shortlisted for Needle In the Hay's New Year's Ablutions award.