Alluvium (14 page)

Nearly at the elevators, Saul listened to the skeleton of the tower groan with each passing gust and thought it best to take the stairs instead. Up he went, passing the shadow infested floors. He flicked on the industrial flashlight that he brought with him to navigate the dark stairwell, and continued his climb, stumbling against the might of the storm beyond the tower walls that rocked it. He turned off the light when he reached the only illuminated level in the building: Floor Nineteen.

Finally, he had made it, but the tiresome climb had Saul fighting for a breath from his oxygen tank. For a moment, he considered taking the elevator on his way back down, but this thought quickly dissipated when a strong tremor rippled through the building. Saul caught himself on a handrail to stop himself from stumbling back down the way he came. Before anything more could happen, he briskly maneuvered out of the stairwell and down the long white corridor. He did not stop until he reached the door number 19-10. He wiped away fear from his face and tapped strongly on the door with his gloved fists. He waited for someone to answer. A minute went by and still nothing. Saul tapped again, stronger this time, and the door glided to the side. Saul stepped inside the closet-size space and waited.

Decompressing. Please remain stationary.

A moment after a green light illuminated beside him, Saul lifted off his humid helmet, stepping into the room, and he breathed the putrid air in short sips. The last door opened seamlessly before him.

“You don’t need- you don’t need to be that loud with it. All that banging," spit a drunk man into Saul’s face on the other side. The hefty man’s suit insignia of a syringe was flashing red.

Saul wiped the man's alcoholic spit from the corners of his mouth. “Move aside, Novak. I’m here to collect my tax and be on my way."

Saul pushed between the doorframe and Doctor Novak and into the spacious apartment which was flooded with the music of the 1950’s. The apartment, as with all the others in the tower, was designed to hold four families at one time, with two large kitchens and four bedrooms branching off the comfortably-sized shared living space. Saul made his move to the closest of the kitchens on his left without a second's thought.

“Tax?" Novak coughed. “You didn’t say anything about a tax before. That wasn’t the- and listen, I think I need to inform that the building has been moving these last few days. It goes back and forth and back and forth, like this. Should I be concerned? Do I need to go back to the Hub?" Novak huffed while proceeding to stumble over his own feet keeping up with Saul.

Saul reached the oversized refrigerator. “It’s shaking because your drunk, Novak. You’ll be perfectly safe in here. The structure is sound. You’re not going back to the Hub anytime soon, you know that. Not yet," he enforced.

Saul opened the door to the refrigerator and looked over the countless bottles of booze inside. “Do you have a bag?" Saul asked innocently while reading the label of every bottle. “Something large. Something sturdy."

Novak stumbled to a cabinet, pulled out an armored duffel bag, and handed it over, but not without further questioning. “What tax- what are you speaking about? What are you-” Novak slurred.

Saul selected ten bottles of wine from the toxic hoard which barely made a dent in Novak’s overall supply. He stacked the bottles onto each other in the bag and hoped the glass would hold as he made his descent.

“I’m talking about our deal, Novak. The one we made a few weeks ago. I gave you the keys to my kingdom, and I gave you all the alcohol on the planet. I made you the richest man on Mars. All I ask from you in return is to keep your mouth shut and do as I say and look what you’re doing right now. You’re asking questions," Saul said.

The duffel bag was overflowing with bottles and it was heavy on Saul’s back.

“But, I have kept mouth shut about what I saw-" Novak protested.

“Not another word!" Saul shouted.

Novak stopped and his attention diverted to the bag.

“But I need all the alcohol," he said in defeat.

“Surely you can spare some of the abundant treasure I helped you get, considering the occasion," Saul said as he made for the exit, ignoring the doctor as he dizzily tried to grab for the bag.

Novak pondered for a minute, but in his drunken mind, he came to no conclusion. “What is the occasion?" he asked hopefully.

Saul turned around just before he left through the doorway. His helmet was now secured over his smile. “A baby is coming," he said excitedly and disappeared from the room before another question was asked.

The door closed and the Doctor was left alone in his castle once again. After a moment's hesitation on the blurry series of events that had just transpired, Novak leaped back to the refrigerator to recount his precious supply. He counted the bottles once, and then twice, and as many times as he could. Was there enough to last him? Would he run out? Could he still die a drunk and happy old man? Novak continued to count his bottles even as tremors rippled back through the tower. He gave no notice to the unsafe world around him.

Outside in the crawler, Saul watched the tower from a safe distance. Soon, it would fall. Any day now. With its destruction would come the end of his worries. The loud-mouthed doctor would finally be silenced, and only then could he carry on with his future. His kingdom of twelve towers could be rebuilt, reinforced, and reimagined as a place they could live and grow as a colony. As a family. For this, Saul would have the wine poured, especially considering the most recent news: a child was coming to Mars. That was something to celebrate. He did not need the weak and fool of a doctor to see the baby into the world. No, it would be his own hands that would guide the child into the light.

After all, it was his.

As the Saul directed the Crawler back towards the Hub, he thought about the Tower of Babel and how its story was meant as a warning to humanity. He had a different perspective of its message now after watching the destruction of one of his own creations. God was not a destroyer of worlds, as it may have seemed by the tales end, but far more than that. He was an architect. He shaped and built and made things stronger. He refined and defined. And sometimes, as an architect, one must first destroy his own work so that something better can be built on top of the rubble. First, taken by gravity, and then, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, a better world will come.

Mars was alive again. The people laughed, cheered, sang, and filled the Hub with unheard sounds. They danced in the rooms, drank in the hallways, and kissed beneath the stairs. They remembered the beauty of the past, they saw it in the present, and for few brief seconds, they thought it could be in the future too. Their bodies ran warm and their hearts beat fast, and skin touched skin in low-lit chambers. Joy rustled through them like the wind through branches, and it was all so intoxicating. The ecstasy of life had returned, and the people did not know if it was the wine or the coming child that provoked its revival. They did not care.

The mess hall was the center of the celebration. Saul Lind had spent days decorating and dressing the large space into a temporary ballroom for the event. Colorful cloths draped from the high ceiling and tables were moved aside to open the floor for the nineteen guests to dance amongst themselves. Hors d’oeuvres and wine and gifts flooded the tabletops while music masked the sounds of the sand storm that raged above them in the outside. The music also did well loosening the limbs of the guests as if they had just recently risen from their graves and were using them for the first time. Although, what captured most of the attention was not the music or the spectacular decorations, but a large set of numbers projected on one of the far walls. The numbers dropped in value with each passing second. Ticking away.

39:42. 39:41. 39:40. 39:39.

Those that danced glanced at these numbers every few minutes, thinking deep about the amount left, and returned their heads into the crook of the neck of their partners. They did not enjoy seeing the numbers grow so low. Some chose to forget the numbers altogether for they dared not to drag their thoughts away from the dance floor because they knew that such joy was a rare thing on Mars. They worried that it would all be over too soon once the numbers reached their end. Ignoring the clock at their backs, they continued to dance to the swelling music, twirling like angels in clouds who refused to return to the ground again. They wanted it to last forever.

27:12. 27:11. 27:10.

Off in the corners of the ballroom were those that moved less but talked more. They too felt the surge of the wine but expressed it differently. They tried not to connect through the body, like the dancers, but through the mind. Their spoken words were deeply soaked with emotion and inspired fruitful conversations between groups and pairs that extended beyond the topics of the trivial and the meaningless. They spoke in a poetic language that often used the words
hope
and
love
and
future
. Their eyes would depart from the pupil of their partner only to check the numbers on the wall in order to come to terms with their updated status.

20:01. 20:00. 19:59.

Hollis Reyes was neither dancing or talking; he only watched. Like a wallflower, he looked on as Saul and Autumn spun in circles on the dance floor. When they disappeared behind the other dancing bodies Hollis’ heart paused, but to his relief, the pair would always return back into view, and so his heart would start again. The two moved with grace and perfection, each step matched and replicated as if they were tied together by some unseen bond. One body and one mind.

Pressed between the bodies of the two dancers was a child. Hollis’ child. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs for them to stop, but he knew they would not hear him over the sound of the music. But why try? What use was there for Hollis to fight for something that was no longer his, because, after all, the child was now Saul’s. Autumn had said it herself. She told Saul a lie for fear of being found out: the child was his, and the only reason she kept her pregnancy a secret all this time was to reduce his worries so that he could better lead the people. She told him it was only a few days after Earth’s blackout that she found out and she was scared and weak and did not know any better. She told him what he wanted to hear, terrified to tell any ounce of truth. She told him she loved him and only him, and he believed every word of it.

Hollis twisted the stem of the wine glass between his fingers and the dark liquid spiraled inside. He touched the rim of the glass to his sun-cracked lips and let the red river trickle down his throat and into the bowels of his body. His insides felt warm for a moment, and then the warmth settled and he felt nothing but anger.

17:33. 17:32. 17:31.

If Autumn chose Saul as the father then so be it, Hollis concluded, refilling his glass to the brim. He did not need her anyway. She had been nothing more than a problem for him during his past years on Earth and Mars. Her presence in his life brought only disharmony to himself and his family, and like a parasite, she sucked everything in his life dry. She was a psychological terrorist, taking to ruin every ounce of purpose he had left, and it all began that night in Paris when they first kissed and entered into the same bed. Autumn was destined to destroy him and always had been, no matter what the Computer tried to tell him otherwise. She was his own personal poison. Hollis’ love for her was his greatest sin and now he could do nothing more than accept this.

He would not make the same mistake again. Only redemption laid ahead for Hollis Reyes, and he could only get there without her. However, as the Computer so often claimed, the protection of the child was the only way for Hollis to truly bring about the world he dreamed of. The machine made it clear it was paramount that he alone was the child’s guardian and no one else. How then could he protect the child if Saul was handed the torch by the mother herself? Autumn took the last of his hope with this final betrayal, and Hollis began to fear that he would lose his second child just as he did his first.

“It’s the wine," came a reassuring voice. “Trust me."

Hollis followed the sound to his right and saw an old friend approaching.

“The wine?" Hollis responded, looking down at the bubbling crimson ocean in his glass.

Asnee stood beside Hollis, and they turned to face the dancers.

“Yes, the wine. It’s what made them leave their rooms, dance, and love each other again. It brought back feelings that were hidden far away for the longest time and now they're finally realizing them. Just look into any one of their eyes and you can see how they’re awake. They only needed these things to be brought out. The wine does this well." Asnee smiled and continued. "I believe you said something similar to this in that epic speech you made a few weeks ago. Something about how we all needed to wake up."

Hollis smiled to him. “Maybe waking up wasn’t such a great idea."

“No, for once, I think you were onto something," Asnee smirked whimsically. “There’s an old saying that in wine there is truth, and I believe it. You can look out at all of them and see it. You were right about them. They still have that spark that made them special, they only needed to realize it for themselves."

Hollis turned the wine in his glass and laughed nervously. “So where’s your wine, Asnee? Aren’t you feeling truthful tonight? Don’t you want to embrace those long lost feelings? Don’t you want to wake up?"

Asnee turned to face Hollis, and Hollis saw the new light in his eyes. “Well, truthfully, Janya never liked it when I drank. As it turned out, I would get pretty reckless and end up making more enemies than friends by the end of the night," he laughed. “I like having friends."

“Well, what does that say about you?" Hollis remarked, taking another sip. “I thought in wine there was truth.”

“I suppose then my truth is that I’m good at making a fool of myself."

“Then Janya was a smart woman in suggesting you lay off the wine," Hollis chuckled and raised his glass. “Cheers, to Janya, and to making fools of ourselves."

Asnee raised his invisible glass with Hollis. "To Janya," he said and took a sip of air as Hollis took a sip of wine.

“You look really good, Asnee. You don’t know how happy that makes me," Hollis said, finishing up his drink and refilling it again.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I have you to thank for that," Asnee firmly said, and they both smiled.

14:18. 14:17. 14:16.

The two friends bathed themselves in jokes and remembrance as the clock counted closer to zero. They talked about everything there was to talk about but Mars and their mission. They sparked again what was lost, and it seemed that everything was the way it should be. Unfortunately, as the numbers fell, the topics quickly changed into something of much more weight and seriousness.

“So it seems we’ve got a new member joining the club," Asnee said looking out at Autumn and Saul dancing. “I didn’t know we were still accepting applications."

Hollis stopped sipping the wine. “I suppose we do. I wish the kid all the luck, this isn’t an easy club to be in. I wouldn’t advertise it."

“No, I wouldn’t either. But I must admit the news of a baby did a lot of good for the others. They needed something like this after all that has happened. People love babies, and more so when you’re tired of seeing the same damn faces every day. A little diversity never hurts. It’s almost like that fresh start you and Saul preached is possible after all."

Hollis watched the couple kiss and the others clap. “Yeah, almost," he muttered.

“There is a good that comes out of every bad. It’s yin and yang. There has to be a balance in the universe so it doesn’t collapse on itself. It’s simple physics," said Asnee.

“Sure, balance is good. We need a balance," Hollis muttered stone-faced, eyes un-averted from the dance floor.

Asnee grabbed Hollis’ arms and turned him away from the couple. “What I’m trying to say, Hollis, is that you helped me see this after what happened to Janya. You helped me more than you can imagine. I thought it was the end and the credits were about to roll, but you slapped me in the face just in time. You helped me realize that there is light just over the horizon, and although I am not there yet, I am closer." Asnee pointed out to the joyous people. “You did this for them too. That speech you made after we lost the Commander, it did so much for them in a time that could have ruined us all. You brought back their hope, if only for a night. It wasn’t just the wine that did this but you, and all we need to do now is watch over them and not let the fire go out as it did before. We need to keep the fire burning. So let me do the same for you. Let me keep your fire burning."

Hollis frowned. “As poetic as all that sounds, I have no idea what you’re trying to tell me. Do I not look fine to you? We’re at a party for God’s sake, lighten up. You need some wine after all."

Asnee spoke with seriousness. “I’m not a blind man, Hollis. The others may be oblivious to the truth, but I know you too well. I know your history. I know what you’re feeling and why you’re feeling it."

“What the hell are you getting at?" Hollis asked. “Watch your next step, Asnee."

“I know. I know about all of it. I know everything."

Hollis sauntered backward. A splash of wine spilled to the floor from his cup as he steadied himself. “You know
what
? Tell me, what do you think you know? Because I can tell you right now that you know nothing about what’s happening. Nothing."

Asnee flashed a smile around the ballroom in hopes that the severity of their discussion would go unnoticed.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Hollis. This is only between you and me, and you need to believe me when I tell you this. You are my dearest friend and I would never put you in any position that might harm you. I am only looking out for you. I’m returning the favor."

Hollis set the wine glass down on the decorated table-top and ran his fingers through his thick hair while venting out the stress from his lungs in an exaggerated exhale. He began to feel the alcohol sway the floor as if it were about to crumble beneath him.

“This is not the time or place to be discussing this," Hollis said with a sharp tongue. “What do you actually think you’re doing anyway? Helping me by talking about speeches and hope? Don’t be so naive. We both know you’ve been wrong in judging these types of things before, so I hope for your sake don’t make the same mistake again."

Asnee took the words as water, not fire. “Like I said, when people drink they express their deepest feelings and do it bluntly and haphazardly. I’m telling you what I know so that you might contain yourself, as a friend is obligated to do. The look you’ve had on your face is only getting worse as the night goes on. Soon enough I won’t be the only one noticing the hate that has infected you about this pregnancy. People will draw connections."

Quieted now, Hollis looked back at Autumn and Saul as if he suddenly realized they were still in the same room. He rubbed the rough stubble on his chin concentrating on the advice he had just received. Asnee was right to warn him, he had been careless in handling his emotions the entire party, acting like a jealous boyfriend, and if Asnee could see him for what he was then the others surely could too if they had not been so preoccupied. He had felt Autumns dagger of deceit dig deep into his heart and turn and tear away his armor, but it was imperative he did not show it. It was uncomfortable, but it was bearable, and he needed to get through the night. Perhaps it was the wine that left him so misdirected, or perhaps it was his own unresolved unconscious issues, but either way he needed to control himself before he went off like a time-bomb counting down to zero.

10:05. 10:04. 10:03.