Flare (31 page)

Lilith spat out the dust on her tongue.

“But I’m not here to speak of the
EverRed
, I’m here to talk about you,” said Lilith. “You’re special, and you know this. You’ve always known this, and that’s why you guided yourself here.”

Lilith walked up close to Zeke, pinning him against the pot of vomit with her small, tattooed frame.

“We’ll give you some time in this room,” said Lilith. “We’ll no longer show you our way through pain and fear, but rather through pleasure and desire. After that we’ll bring you to our leader; have you heard of him?”

Zeke shook his head to say that he hadn’t.

“Our leader is the one who will help us survive the sun,” said Lilith. “He’s been waiting for you, because he knows that your place is
here
. This is your destiny, and you’re going to play a crucial role in the future of our world.”

METATRON

Ash woke up, turned on the lights and then opened his personal refrigerator, which was tucked cleanly into the wall. His entire space was like this: elegantly and efficiently built. Though his room was quite large, the design made it seem even larger. Like his refrigerator, everything was built into the wall. Ash could use anything from the kitchen when he wanted, and when he didn’t need them, they disappeared.

He also marveled at the material that they used to build everything. Every object was made out of some sort of synthetic polymer, different variations of the same plastic that had made up the pipes in the tree outside. The substance was white and clean, but it was tough and highly resistant to stains. It was quite versatile too, and Ash noticed that the shower, kitchen and washing machine were all made out of various strains of the material. Some parts were soft and rubbery, some parts were as hard as steel. But everything was a shade of white, and nothing stained.

Not that I have to worry about staining anything.

The food they had given him was just as elegant as the materials they had used to build the kitchen. They gave him more vat-grown meat that came in cold, square cubes. It was delicious though, and the blocks of lamb, steak, chicken and fish tasted better than anything he’d eaten before the flare. The meat didn’t go bad either. He had accidentally left a block of chicken out overnight, and it had retained its flavor, texture and moisture. Now a few days into his stay, he hadn’t seen anything become stale, in fact.

They also gave him compacted blocks of tofu, and Ash ascertained that the tofu had been engineered to have more protein, flavor and nutrients. They gave him bushels of vegetables and fruits, perfectly symmetrical and most likely grown hydroponically, preternaturally ripe and bursting with flavor. He had water, tea, coffee and juice, and all of them tasted clean and pure. They gave him red wine, and he had drunk it heavily one night. He didn’t have a hangover the next morning.

Nothing stained the kitchen, not even the red wine, and he marveled at both the design and the actual machines therein. The refrigerator was like nothing he’d ever seen, though he couldn’t quite figure out how it worked. It had no metal, and it didn’t seem to have any tubes of gas keeping it cool. The oven was large but rose to the requested temperature within seconds at the touch of a button, and it cooled off just as quickly. The interior of it wasn’t made of steel or iron, only the clean plastic alloy, hardened so that it could withstand high temperatures. Everything worked well, didn’t break, and worked
instantly.
Water came out of the white plastic sink cleanly, and there was a digital dial that would bring the temperature up or down to whatever temperature Ash desired in a matter of seconds. Ash knew the efficiency of this. It wasted neither water nor extra energy heating up the water.

Ash cooked himself a block of tofu, boiling it in a plastic pot. He threw in some hydroponically grown leeks and faux-bouillon seasoning, and the aroma began to fill the room, wrapping it in a comfortable warmth. Ash grabbed a block of cubed rib eye and sliced a thin section to sauté. He dropped it in a clear white pan and then drenched it in the cooking sauce they had given him. The sauce had the consistency and flavor of olive oil, but its taste held a touch of butter too.

He put the cubed rib eye back in the fridge without a container, because it didn’t stain the fridge’s shelving. The slice of rib eye that he was cooking started to sizzle in the pan, and he took a spatula and flipped it over. It added the heavy smell of burning meat to the zesty spice of the boiled tofu, and the room’s aroma soon made him hungry.

The food cooked quickly, and he drained the tofu and put the rib eye on his plate. He placed the tofu and leeks on another plate and took them to the table at the center of the room. He brought out a set of white utensils and a napkin and a glass of the cloudy white tea they had given him. He loved this tea, though he didn’t quite know where it came from. Its faint undertone of pears was so subtle that he didn’t get sick of it, and he felt that he could drink this pale beverage for the rest of his life if need be.

Much of the food with which they provided him tasted like this. It was good, but not so strong that he would get tired of it. He couldn’t make a mistake when he cooked, because every combination worked. He could boil one of their lab-grown steaks with a raw onion and it would be delicious. He could take the chicken raw and cover it with a pound of burnt vegetables, and it would be great. He’d feel healthy afterwards too, no matter how much he ate. He could have two pounds of raw beef, and he’d feel like he only had a salad. The kitchen was always full, every combination was good, and any amount was perfect.

He ended his meal and started to clean up. The process of cleaning up the kitchen only took a few minutes. He had eaten most of the food, and the remaining bits didn’t stick to the plates. There was one faucet that was dedicated only to washing dishes, and it shot out a blast of clean liquid that smelled of mint. They had also given him a machine that could sterilize the dishes, but Ash thought that the sink’s faucet was good enough to clean the plates, and he didn’t even need to rinse anything with pure water afterwards. The minty liquid cleaned everything on its own and dried quickly, leaving nothing behind.

Ash showered, and the water cleaned him well without the need for soap, even for his hair. They had given him a full set of toiletries of course, but Ash soon realized that their bathing water worked well enough by itself. He stayed in the shower for a bit longer than he normally did and played with the lighting control that coursed through the stream. He turned the plastic dial and the water became blue, and then he changed it to a light orange. It didn’t feel right, so he played with the dial until the stream of water reflected a deep green. He turned another dial and the walls changed color too, glowing a crisp, airy blue. The shower took on the feel of an alpine forest, and Ash smiled. He liked this feeling but still wondered if those who ran this place were watching him. He knew that they could because they had cameras everywhere, but he wondered if they cared
to see him as he bathed.

Of course they care.
They watch everything.

He knew that they watched him at all times, while he ate, while he slept, and while he went to the bathroom. Whatever he did, even in complete privacy, they seemed to know. He had spent one evening snapping his right fingers under his covers, not so loud that anyone could hear it, and not so forcefully that anyone could see him moving his arm from outside his bed. But he had snapped in secret, 137 times in all, and they had brought it up the next day. He hadn’t gotten in trouble, of course. They just wanted to know why he had snapped his right fingers 137 times before he had gone to sleep.

They might not care to see me bathing,
but they’re watching. They’re always watching.

Ash was used to being observed in his room though, and felt ready to dry himself and then start the day. And the day, as always, started with a philosophical discussion with Adriel.

/***/

He sat down at his desk facing the blank wall, and as usual Adriel showed up on a screen projection, the image of her sitting body appearing so perfectly that he felt like she was there. She could see every bit of him, and he could see every bit of her. The projection was so real that there was no barrier of artificiality between them, no impersonal feeling of talking to someone through a TV screen. As far as Ash felt, they were in the same room together.

Ash started the session by asking his usual barrage of questions.
Where are Heather and Courtney? What’s the purpose of this place? Where exactly are we? How many others live here? What’s the cause of the flare? How long will it last? Will we spend the rest of our lives here?

Adriel, as usual, deflected the questions away, stating that all would be answered in time. He was safe here and a good fit for the Salvation, but she told him it wouldn’t be wise to divulge all their secrets just yet.

/***/

The philosophical discussion of the day revolved around the concept of
altruism
and the extent to which it existed. Adriel posited levels of self-sacrifice, such as an ant giving its life for its troop. Ash stated that this had hard limits, because the ant wouldn’t sacrifice its life for a wasp, or even another species of ant. The ant’s altruism was a method to protect similar copies of its DNA, and nothing further.

Adriel brought up animals that served us, and wondered if their kindness presented another level of altruism.

“Not really, because they’ve merely been
tricked
into serving our needs,” said Ash. “We’re smart enough to sublimate their genetic imperatives and push them towards our own ends. As a reward we give them shelter and a structured means to replicate themselves. The record-setting bull might end up in the slaughterhouse, but they’ll send his seed to a thousand cows before his end.”

Adriel brought up the altruism found within humanity, asking if it reached a higher level than that found in animals.

“Perhaps,” said Ash. “Though our base state is raw self-interest, the defining moments of our history come when a group of individuals transcend that desire and choose to do something more than just benefit their reproductive chances. Unlike the animals we can make choices, and when we
choose
to do something more than just meet our immediate needs, great things can happen.”

Adriel nodded in response while she considered this. Gone were the imperious tones with which she spoke during his testing, and she now thought about each word he said carefully.

Adriel asked Ash about his own threshold of self-sacrifice and what conditions, if any, would cause him to willingly give up his life.

“I don’t know,” said Ash with a laugh. “I never really thought about that, and I can’t give an honest answer to that right now.”

Adriel didn’t pursue the question.

“How about you?” asked Ash. “Let’s say you were in the room with me now and a skylight was about to open. What if there was only space for one of us in the shade? Would you save my life at the expense of your own?”

“I might, if you phrased the question in the context of helping humanity,” said Adriel. “If by saving you I would help our species flourish, even in a small way, I’d hope that I would have the strength to fall under the sun to protect you. I’d hope that I would do this even though I have no children, sisters, brothers or even
cousins
left alive to carry on my legacy. I’d hope that I would do this even if it meant I would die nameless, with every part of my being extinguished and never to exist again.”

/***/

The talk with Adriel ended, and she gave Ash his daily assignment. He didn’t quite understand the purpose of their daily discussion, whether it was to indoctrinate him in their culture, to learn more about him, or to learn
from
him. The talks were never quite like lessons, with Adriel preaching their values to him. She always asked open-ended questions with no clear answers, like
what is morality?
or
is religion fundamentally necessary to humanity?

The questions never ended with a conclusion and she never wavered in her attention, listening much as a psychologist would to her patient. He often argued, and she sometimes argued back. But Adriel never lost her composure, and she never stopped listening to what he had to say.

After their morning talk, she would give him a task, and sometime a list of tasks. They weren’t challenges meant to test his aptitude, but rather real problems that their underground structure was facing, problems that he had to fix. The problems were almost always solved in his own room, usually with a projected computer interface laid out over a table. The tasks were always difficult, but so far they hadn’t required him to leave his room to solve them.

He had been asked to reconceptualize an air duct, to design a solar panel that could withstand heavy winds, and to create a database to accommodate an expandable set of information that would track new citizens. He had been asked to perform an analysis on one work by James Joyce and two by John Updike, analyses that would help explain their work to a broader audience. He had been tasked with learning Icelandic. He didn’t know Icelandic, but they had a computer program that taught him, and he was making progress. He had been asked to compose a soft piano melody that would help people fall asleep, and after he composed it, he was asked to arrange it as a symphonic movement.

They had given him the previous day off, and today was the eighth day. A light projected onto the table blinked to show that his task was ready, and he tapped the blinking light with his index finger. A panel opened up to reveal his assignment:

Go outside.

You will meet a partner who will take you to district
z3
.

You will help them redesign their sewage treatment plant.

They will explain their problem in further detail.

Ash smiled. He was going outside, and he was going to get a partner. He hoped that it was someone real, and not just a wall projection.

/***/

They met in the hallway, which was much like Ash’s room: clean, white and covered with the plastic alloy. The passage was forty feet across and four hundred feet long. There were six doors in the hallway, each identical to Ash’s door, but they each had numbers and letters on them. Ash’s door read
bY4
. The doors were spread out evenly, and Ash marveled at the open-air design. He knew it was difficult to build a shelter entirely underground, and most underground spaces were limited in size. They could be elegantly designed to appear spacious, but they were usually compact. This place was elegantly designed
and
spacious.