Perfect Flaw (22 page)

The Preservation staff member on duty, Jeremy, recognized Liam and waved him in, telling him to just ask for help if he needed it. That was convenient; Liam didn’t even have to explain what he was looking for or why. He went right over to one of the many empty computers—the Preservation Room wasn’t exactly the most popular place in Subland—logged on, and began searching.

A half hour later, Liam had determined that miners had indeed died while doing their job—and far too often. More than 100,000 killed in the United States alone; that was more than 100 times the population of Subland. It made Liam dizzy just thinking about it.

Next, Liam wondered what could possibly make this coal so valuable, that it was worth so much more than human lives. He found coal could generate electricity—but there were other ways to do that. They used the underground river here. The Abovelanders had also used coal to heat buildings. And…to power
steam engines
.
Liam had heard of trains that crossed the vast Aboveland, great mechanical beasts that carried humans from one end of the country to the other, past the varied landscapes he could only imagine: forests full of towering plants called trees, mountains where the earth rose in immense humps, cities of human-made buildings standing tall against the blue sky. Yes, the trains did seem wonderful—but not nearly as wonderful as being alive in Aboveland, able to walk through all of (or just one of) those many strange landscapes. Not as wonderful as a gleaming, singing yellow bird, soaring through the sky.

***

The days passed, blurring one into the next just as the grays and browns of Subland all smudged together into one dull shade. Liam choked down more
tipiog
and tried to ignore the hole in his stomach. He listened to his teachers drone on and tried to tune out the whispers aimed in his direction. He lay in bed at night and tried to pretend Tessa’s cries were actually a beautiful song. And as the days passed, Liam thought. According to the several articles he’d read, the miners’ canaries died because they didn’t have enough oxygen to breathe. Liam knew about oxygen—they’d learned in Health class that all humans took in oxygen from the air, that every cell inside their bodies needed it to survive. But it had never occurred to him that oxygen could run out. Liam understood that some aspects of the mining process had been especially dangerous, had caused explosions and buildup of dangerous gases. But, still… Miners died because of lack of oxygen. Oxygen came from the fresh air above ground. Subland existed far below the earth’s surface, without any opening that Liam knew of. So why, in over two hundred years, had their oxygen never run out?
No one knew how far below the earth’s surface Subland was located. Well, the Leaders and some of the scientists must know, Liam supposed, but it certainly wasn’t common knowledge. And it wasn’t the type of thing you could research in the Preservation Room, either—the databases there held information only on Aboveland society. Liam, like most of the other kids, had always imagined Subland located miles and miles beneath the surface. There were even rhymes about it, written to match the rhythm of the jump rope:

Down and down and down they ran

to escape the poisoned men.

Down and down and down we’ll stay.

Miles below, we’re always safe.

But now, Liam thought maybe the rhymes and stories were wrong. There had to be an opening somewhere, a way for fresh, oxygen-filled air to travel down to them. And if there was an opening, maybe they weren’t so far below the earth that the surface was little more than a dream, a fantasy. Maybe…maybe there was a way out of Subland. Maybe there was still a world above, a world of sky and sun and birds that flew.

There was no point waiting for Liam’s science teacher to bring up Aboveland or oxygen or how many miles Subland extended beneath the earth. It wasn’t going to happen. So one day in school, when Mr. Abithen followed yet another lecture on subterranean soil with the words, “Any questions?”, Liam decided to take him literally. He might have chosen a more tactful method, might have approached Mr. Abithen alone after class, but Liam was beyond that now. His curiosity had grown so strong, it seemed to have developed wings of its own, and now it was soaring beyond Liam’s control.

“Mr. Abithen,” Liam began when the teacher called on him, “we all breathe oxygen, right?” He could already hear the titters from either side of him.

Mr. Abithen cleared his throat. “Yes, Liam, but I don’t see what—”

“And the oxygen has to come from somewhere, right?” he went on before he could lose his courage.

“Well, yes, but let’s get back on—”

“The oxygen must come from the surface.” Liam let the words out in one long rush. “There must be an opening to the surface somewhere in Subland, or else we’d all be—”

Mr. Abithen’s face turned hard, then, as hard as the stone ceiling that hovered high above Subland. “There is no opening. The air in Aboveland is poisoned, and if any of it was seeping down here, we’d all be dead.”

“But the disaster was more than two hundred years ago,” Liam protested. Unconsciously his hand went to the photo in his pocket, gripping it for support. “Things might have changed since—”

“
Nothing
has changed. Aboveland is destroyed, and we can never go back. Indulging in silly daydreams is not only pointless, it’s dangerous. We need to focus on our life down here.”

Around Liam, the other students’ whispers and giggles had faded in the wake of Mr. Abithen’s booming voice. None of them had ever seen the teacher so angry.

“Do you understand, Liam?”

For a moment, Liam couldn’t speak. His mouth didn’t seem to work.

“Liam?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

***

That evening, Liam took the photograph from his pocket and examined it one more time. He memorized every detail of the picture: the spot where the bird’s yellow surface shone even brighter, he supposed because the sun was hitting it; the little wisps at the edge of each wing, tugged at by an invisible breeze; the piercing black eyes that stared straight ahead, into the endless blue. Then he gave the photo to his mother, as he should have done all those weeks ago. He didn’t need it anymore. The bird was inside him now.

All evening long, as they ate
tipiog
and Liam did his homework and his mother played with Tessa, talking all the while about the new clothes and luxuries they’d buy, Liam thought about the opening hidden somewhere in Subland, leading to the surface. Despite what Mr. Abithen had said, Liam was as sure as ever that it existed. And maybe in Aboveland, there
was
life again. Maybe there were towering trees and rolling mountains, dogs that barked and wolves that howled. Maybe right this very moment, far above Liam’s head, a bird the color of the sun was flying on outstretched wings.

And maybe one day, Liam would find his way to the surface and see for himself.

That night, when his mother was ready to put Tessa to bed, Liam said, “Let me.” He laid Tessa in her crib and watched as she reached her chubby arms up, up, grasping instinctively for something just beyond her reach. Finally he extended his own arm, just far enough for her to grab one of his fingers and clasp it tight. Her grip was warm and surprisingly strong; she let out a gurgling sound of pure pleasure and gave a big, toothless smile.

And Liam smiled back.

THE CHOOSING

BY MICHAEL O’CONNOR

Ninah sat in the hollow she had scooped out for herself and stared unblinkingly ahead at the expanse of lilac sand. The Copses were close behind her, and the tight-knit collection of thirty variously sized residence-domes and other buildings known as Gamma Town was a little to her left. But despite this proximity, she knew that as long as she kept her eyes fixed in one direction she would eventually be able to convince herself that she was alone and safe from the obstructiveness of other people.

She had been brought to Graal as an infant, fourteen years earlier. “We fled the noxious ball of pollution which the over-industrialised Earth had become to seek the riches buried within a brave new world,” her father had once told her in an uncharacteristic moment of verbosity. Though it was hot and dry and the Copses sighed poison at night, Ninah loved the tiny planet which was the only home she knew.

The yellow sun had already dipped below the horizon and the more distant red one would soon follow. Automatically, she put out her hand and let it fall onto her night-hood. Once it became dark, all the plants on Graal would start to draw in the breathable air and exhale a noisome gas which humans could not tolerate without transmutation. The gas was rendered harmless at red sun rise. Night-hoods contained the necessary filters and chemical devices that make it possible to breathe outside after dark, but they were expensive to buy and to maintain, and Ninah would get into serious trouble if she lost hers. Satisfied that the hood was safe, she ran her fingers through her short, carrot-red hair. She had asked her mother to cut it that way because the long ringlets she used to have were taking up too much room in the child’s night-hood she used, and her parents would not buy her a new one until after her Choosing. Just in case they did not need to.

She picked up the night-hood and stared at her reflection in the black visor, angling it up and down to take in her whole body. Her slight build and spiky hair had not worried her before. She had never really cared what she looked like. But that was before Trum came, trekking across the desert by day and night on a sand-scooter from Kappa Town which lay in one of the further segments of Graal. His parents had died in a mining accident and he had an uncle in Gamma Town who had invited the youth to share his home. Trum was tall and bony with dark brown hair which was always falling into his green eyes, and he had a way of smiling slowly as he spoke to her which made Ninah think he could read her mind. She had grown up with all the other boys in her Town and viewed them like brothers. Trum, three years older than her and with a slight drawl in his voice, seemed almost mythic. It frightened her how quickly and how powerfully she had fallen in love with him.

“You cannot select a partner before your Choosing,” her mother had told her. “However long you have to wait for it. It may not be ... appropriate, afterwards.”

“Trum is male so does not get a Choosing,” Ninah retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Why cannot he select me?”

Ninah’s father sighed heavily, and glanced at his wife. “No female can select or be selected until after their Choosings,” he said patiently. “It is the law. You know how things are here. You are not a little child any more.”

“Then why does everyone treat me like one!” screamed Ninah, wiping tears of frustration from her eyes and running to her room. She threw herself onto her bunk and sobbed until sleep overcame her. Even the faint hum of the dome’s filters coming on did not wake her. They started to pump out a slight aroma to indicate that they were operating properly, and, in the next room, Ninah’s parents slid under the warm sheets of their own bunk. Slowly the residence-dome became imbued with the reassuringly sweet scent of violets.

The following morning, Ninah had eaten her breakfast in sulky silence, then returned to her room and switched on her Tutor. “Today’s lessons will begin with history...” crackled the artificial voice of the computer, shaped like a smiling head with a view screen representing its shoulders. Ninah sat there and worked, without stopping to eat and ignoring her parent’s occasional calls from the communal area, until late afternoon. Then she suddenly stabbed at the over-ride button. “Individual research,” she muttered loud enough for the machine’s sensors to pick up her command.

“Subject?” queried the Tutor.

“The Choosing,” Ninah replied, after a moment’s hesitation. There were severe punishments for failing to keep up with the tuition programme, and she had already fallen several days behind. She knew she could catch up on two or three day’s work without too much trouble, but the present backlog was starting to worry her, which was why she had dedicated so much of the day to her studies. But now she was bored, and wanted to investigate what really mattered to her.

There was a pause before the Tutor responded. “Note that this is the recommended lesson for persons of your standard. If you require a higher level response, please ask an adult to join you and enter his or her code.” Biting her nails impatiently, Ninah sat and waited. Satisfied that nothing else was going to happen, the Tutor continued. “Graal has never produced enough males for its needs. Consequently, young females on Graal are given the opportunity to choose which gender they wish to be for the rest of their lives. There are generous awards given to those who elect to become males. That is all.” The Tutor emitted a low tone to signal that the response was complete.

Ninah punched a button to switch it off. It was the same curt message she had heard for the past five years. When would she be old enough to hear a more detailed account? She wanted to find a loophole that would enable her to partner Trum straight away. She could not bear the thought of having to wait until the Central Administrator’s office contacted her parents to say it was time for her Choosing. Though it seemed to be long overdue already, nevertheless it could still be days or months or maybe even years away. She could not endure for so long. Pulling a green tunic over her brown one-piece, and automatically snatching up her night-hood in case she decided to stay out late, she crept out of her room and was through the main door of the dome before her parents had time to look up from their workstations. She knew they would not pursue her. It was too important that they meet their work unit quota each day, and they scarcely had time for meals and sleep as it was. As long as she was not in obvious danger and was not breaking any important rules, they would let her alone.

The dry heat hit her as soon as she was outside, but the air was fresh and clean and she gulped at it hungrily as she ran past the hydroponic farm and the Supply Depot out onto the warm, shifting sand which surrounded Gamma Town like an ocean around an island. Very few of the settlers came out onto the sand unless they had to, regarding it as one more unpleasant feature of a generally inhospitable planet, but Ninah loved it. She loved its warmth and its mutability, and the way in which its soft lilac tones lightened and darkened according to the time of day and the positions of the suns. She had scooped out a hollow and seated herself facing away from the Town, and from the Copses where the towering Ghuign trees shared space with a mixture of smaller but equally sturdy plants and shrubs and maintained the breathability of the daylight air.

She sat there, feeling the heat seep through her linen clothes and embrace her slight body, and desperately tried to think of a way in which she and Trum could be together without having to wait until the Administrators saw fit to summon her to her Choosing. “Widow Sarich,” she suddenly said aloud. “She is the oldest person in the world. She will know all there is to know about the Choosing. She will know if I have to wait for it before I can be partnered.”

Scrabbling her way upright, and frightening several inquisitive Nards, mauve-skinned sand lizards whose camouflage made them very difficult to hunt, it took Ninah only moments to reach Widow Sarich’s tiny one-person dome on the outskirts of Gamma Town. She placed her hand on the sensor by the door and waited for the old woman to identify her. After a few minutes’ silence, Ninah grew impatient and banged on the white plastic wall, shouting her name. The door slid open and the girl entered.

A faint humming and the distinct scent of lavender alerted her to the fact that Widow Sarich had somehow gained permission to leave her filter on all day. The old woman never left her dome and seemed to distrust even the daylight air, though Ninah could not understand why she did not simply accept that everyone else could breathe it perfectly well so there could not be anything wrong with it. Widow Sarich’s husband had died many years earlier, long before Ninah was born, when his night-hood had broken down during an exploratory expedition which had got lost and been forced to stay out all night. The old woman had grown increasingly reclusive over recent years and some of the younger children mocked her for her eccentricities. But Ninah had a fondness for her which she could not explain.

When her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light inside the old woman’s dome, Ninah realised with a shock that Widow Sarich was wearing nothing but a flimsy underdress, stained brown and yellow and concealing little of her sagging plump body. She was sitting by one of the filter’s outlet grilles, staring sightlessly towards the open door. She had been born on Graal in the early days of its settlement, before many of the birth defects which were common then had been eradicated, and she had come into the world with moist white eyes which had no pupils. As she came closer, Ninah saw that the wide eyes now contained a number of dark blood spots, which floated idly across them like tiny red boats on a lake of milk.

“How are you, Widow Sarich,” Ninah said politely, touching the old woman’s wrinkled hand with her own. “I have come to visit you.”

“You are the only one who ever does, Ninah Tressard,” Widow Sarich said, with affection in her voice, though she snatched her hand away as if she had been stung. “But I suppose there are no other little girls left to do so, are there?”

Ninah did not reply for a moment, because she had to bite back her anger at being called a little girl. But she knew how irrational the old woman could be sometimes and did not want to upset her. “Well,” she said at last. “There are the two toddlers that belong to family Eflond and the five girls who share my tutor group, but they’re all quite a bit younger than me. They are what could be called little girls, I suppose,” she concluded pointedly.

“And you sometimes wonder what became of those who were older than you?” asked Widow Sarich, rocking her head so that the shaft of sunlight from the open door seemed to slap her face back and forth. “You weren’t always the eldest girl in Gamma, were you?”

Ninah found a stool and sat down on it, staring intently at the blind woman, wondering if she had some magical way of discerning what it was she had come about. “The big girls all took the award for choosing to become male,” she answered. “Their parents were all poor, I think, farmers and builders and suchlike, so I suppose they needed the money. Mine work with their brains so I don’t have to worry about it.”

“Indeed brainwork is always better rewarded than muscle work,” Widow Sarich said, as though the thought had never struck her before. “The Tressards administrate the farm, don’t they?”

“Something like that,” Ninah agreed. “They have to plan when crops go in and come out and that sort of thing. I don’t really take much notice.”

“No, I don’t think you do. And neither does anyone else. No-one on Graal ever takes much notice of what goes on except an old blind woman who knows better than to go out and remind people she’s still here. Did any of the older girls tell you before they went that they were going to choose to let the Alpha Town Nanotechs and Bio-engineers make them into males?”

Ninah shrugged her thin shoulders, then remembered that this gesture would be lost on her companion. “We never talked about it much. It’s a bit ... embarrassing, when you’re young. I think Greya was considering it because her father had gone missing and her mother couldn’t manage very well on just the one wage. But some of the others were planning to take partners. Phaedra was desperately in love with one of the farmers, I recall, though he was much too old for her. Even so, I remember thinking it strange that she didn’t come back after her Choosing.”

“So they still alter the changelings’ memories and send them to different towns afterwards?” Widow Sarich asked softly.

“Yes. They say it’s easier to start a new life somewhere that you’re not known and when you can’t remember who you used to be. Besides, it’s at the mining towns that the males are needed because the digging machines don’t work very well on Graal and they need men’s muscles to get the minerals out. You don’t need many males in a farming town, so there wouldn’t be much point in them coming back here if they’d chosen to change.”

“No point at all,” the old woman agreed. “No point at all. I am glad you learn your lessons so well. You don’t want to be thinking wicked thoughts such as men are cheaper than machines, do you. Or that they are more resistant to underground vapours than even physically augmented females. But I am tired now, Child Ninah, so just run along home would you. Shouldn’t you be doing your schoolwork?”

“I wanted to ask you about the Choosing,” Ninah protested. “If there is a way I can ...” She stopped, suddenly shy. “If anyone can select a partner before their Choosing.”

The deafening noise of a descending Transport Ship rocked the dome. The old woman covered her ears and flung herself back and forth as if in a fit. “Get out and shut my door -- don’t let them come for me!” she screeched in terror.

Ninah ran outside and closed the door behind her. The sleek saucer-shaped ship had settled on the landing bay beside the Supply Depot, and most of the townspeople had come out to look at it. An unscheduled visit was of considerable note in the small place.

“Ninah Tressard,” crackled a loudspeaker from somewhere on the surface of the gleaming vehicle. “It is time for your Choosing. Collect your belongings and enter.”