Anomaly (18 page)

I hope it will be there when I wake up.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I
open my eyes and see John. He is sitting on the edge of my sleeping platform. His eyes are closed, but his mouth is moving.

I clear my throat and he stands slowly. He looks older every time I see him and his eyes seem so weary.

“I was worried about you.” He sounds tired, like his vocal cords are tied in knots. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “But what are you doing here? How did you get out of your room?”

Then I remember my finger. The thread. I am afraid to look. If the string isn’t there, Progress isn’t there. Which means
my future is here. And I am an anomaly. I will be annihilated. I keep my hand down, under my bedcover. I cannot look while John is here.

“I have told you that you have a purpose.”

I nod. John is kind, but he is old and his mind is decaying. I remember what Dr. Loudin said.

“I do not think I have much more time here.” John leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you do.”

“Don’t say that.” I may not have any more time than he does. But I do not want to tell him that.

“I am at peace.” John smiles and closes his eyes. “Death is only the beginning. I want you to know that.”

I sigh.

“You do not believe.” A tear forms in the corner of John’s eye. “I understand. This seems strange, right? Talk of a Designer?”

I think of the sky I saw last night. The music that placed me here. Of love. “Not as strange as it used to seem.”

John smiles. “Good. He is showing himself to you, isn’t he?”

I wonder again at John’s perceptiveness. What must his mind have been like when he was young?

“His Word tells us that if his people don’t praise him, even the rocks and the trees will cry out the glory of his name.”

I see the blade of grass in my mind. It is perfect in its imperfection, replicated a thousand times over at the edge of the lake. I think of the mountains. Where did they come from? Not even the Scientists claimed to have developed the earth. If they didn’t, who did?

“The Designer reveals himself to his children in so many ways.”

“His children?”

“‘Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.’”

“What is that?”

“His Word.”

“What does it mean?”

John smiles. “It means that you can be his child through faith.”

“Faith?”

“Believing in who he is.”

“But I don’t know who he is.” I blink away tears. “I don’t know if I want to believe.”

John pats my hand. “Ask him to show himself to you, Thalli. Ask him to show you he is real.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

John stands. “‘If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.’”

I watch John leave, his words ringing in my mind. But unlike the words of Dr. Loudin or Stone or Berk, John’s words don’t frighten me or make me nervous. They make me feel calm. John is so sure. Strange, yes. Old, certainly. But so sure. And so kind. For his sake, I will ask this Designer to give me wisdom.

I close my eyes, like I have seen John do, and I ask.

Nothing happens.

I open my eyes and remember the string.

Slowly, I pull my hand out from the bedclothes. I don’t look. I am afraid to look. My hand is on top of the covers, but my eyes are squeezed shut.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

My finger is bare.

CHAPTER THIRTY

I
throw the bedclothes down and search every inch of them, every inch of the floor. I search the sheets, the pillow. I throw my sleeping shirt off and search it.

Why did I bring back something so small? Of course it would get lost. A blade of grass would have been better.

I sit on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I lift up my finger, looking for any sign that the thread had been there. I tied it tightly. I should see the impression of the string on my finger.

Nothing.

The thread does not exist.

Progress does not exist.

I fall down on my bedclothes, grabbing a handful to muffle sobs I cannot prevent. I am crying so hard I can hardly breathe.

Progress isn’t real.

I don’t realize until this moment how desperately I wanted it to be real. Not just so I could avoid annihilation, but so I could live. Really live. In a community with people. Families. Breathing air, looking at the stars, swimming and laughing and loving.

I don’t even care anymore that I will be annihilated. I wouldn’t want to live down here anyway. I wipe the tears from my eyes and begin to dress again, to replace the sheets and bedclothes.

No, life here isn’t life. There is no freedom. No laughter. Only a ridiculous desire for perfection at all costs. Costs like Asta.

The tears come again. Asta is truly dead. The hope that I had when I thought she was alive is crushed. She never came to my door. She never showed me the outside. Never introduced me to Stone.

Stone. How do I even grieve someone who never existed? I feel foolish for missing him. But I do. I learned more from him than I ever learned in the pod. I can still see him, his olive skin and dark eyes. I can feel the rough stubble of his cheek. I can smell the water on his skin.

I want to throw something. Break something. I hate this place. I want to scream for an Assistant to come and send me to the annihilation chamber now.

I take in a shuddering breath. Maybe that’s the purpose of the simulation. Maybe Dr. Loudin, in some twisted form of kindness, wants to make those of us who are anomalies eager to die.

If that was his purpose, he was successful.

My door opens. Berk is standing there. His face is as white as the walls. I can tell he has been crying—the whites of his eyes are pink, making his eyes almost seem to glow.

“I know.” I want to spare him the pain of having to say it.

Berk crosses to me and crushes me in his embrace. I can hardly breathe. I am limp in his arms.

“I saw you—” He can’t continue. I see anger on his face too. He pulls away and rakes a hand through his hair, already tousled like he hasn’t slept. “Hooked up to Loudin’s machine. Like some lab rat.”

I snap out of my apathy. “You saw me?”

“I had to find out. I needed proof. I watched Dr. Loudin all day yesterday.”

I need to sit. I walk to the couch and Berk joins me.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Of course I want to hear it.” I rub my hands on my knees. “But what about the cameras?”

“Disabled.” Berk’s jaw flexes. “I turned them all off, every one of them on this floor. Turned everything off. The Assistants have no idea who did it or how to fix it. They will be working on it all morning.”

That explains how John was able to come without being caught. The doors aren’t locked and the cameras aren’t on. John must have thought it was a sign from the Designer.

“Yesterday”—Berk leans back—“I placed cameras on Dr. Loudin’s and his Assistant’s jackets.”

“Cameras?”

“They are very small.” Berk shrugs. “The kind we use to monitor the pods.”

I knew there were cameras in the pods, but I thought they were part of the wall screens. “We have no privacy.” I am hating this place more and more.

“I attached them to their lapels in the morning.”

“How did you watch it without being caught yourself?” I do not mind knowing that I will be eliminated. But I can’t bear the thought that something will happen to Berk. “Aren’t there cameras watching you too?”

Berk laughs, but it isn’t a joyful sound. “It is something I have been working on.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clear disk. “This is a screen I can place right in my eye. I can see everything, and no one knows.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“He spoke to his Assistant.” Berk sighs. “She brought you your meal.”

“My meal.” How could I be so stupid? “No wonder she always insisted that I eat everything.”

Berk nods. “The drug they used caused you to be mentally unconscious but physically awake.”

“What?”

“She waited about five minutes,” Berk says. “Your eyes . . . changed. I can’t quite describe it. I’ve seen this given to people scheduled for annihilation. It makes the process easier.” Berk closes his eyes.

He has seen people being annihilated. I can’t imagine anything more terrible.

“She took you by the hand and led you down the hall. It looked very normal, like you were going to a regular test. She even passed people on the way. No one looked twice at you.”

I hate that I don’t remember this. That someone has that much control over me. “I remember her returning later to take me to the isolation chamber.”

Berk clears his throat. “That was the first simulation. You were strapped into a chair with a probe inserted into your skull.”

“My skull?” My hand goes to my head. Berk moves my fingers to the crown of my head where my hair is the thickest. With two fingers, he makes a part and guides my finger to a tiny bump. “There?”

“Yes.”

I feel the bump with my finger. I scrape it with my finger-nail. There it is. A tiny hole. I would never have noticed it.

“Once the probe was in place, he began the program. Everything you saw was projected on the wall screen.”

I feel sick. “Everything I saw?”

“It’s all right, Thalli.” Berk puts a hand on my knee. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Dr. Loudin was cruel to put you through that, to make you think that was real.”

“So it was all there?”

Berk pauses, his eyes scanning the floor. “I saw Stone.”

I want to run out of the room and hide. “I’m sorry, Berk.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” Berk turns my face so I am forced to look into his eyes. I can hardly stand it, knowing he saw me look into Stone’s eyes yesterday. It must have been so painful for him. “You thought it was real, and you thought you would be starting a new life up there.”

I think of holding Stone’s hand, embracing him, sharing moments in the water and on the shore, talking about the future. “But I hadn’t decided yet. Dr. Loudin said I had a choice. I kept thinking of you, even when I was with him.”

“Thalli.” Berk releases my face. “Loudin was manipulating you. And he is an expert. I am not upset. It’s all right. And if it were real, I’d have wanted you to go with him.”

“You would?”

“Of course.” Berk looks at me again, his eyes searching every part of my face. “I will do anything in my power to see that you are safe and happy.”

I don’t like the implications of those words. He can’t sacrifice himself for me. He needs to let me go quietly. He has the potential of a future. A great future. I do not.

“You are a good friend.” I stand. “But I knew when I came here what would happen. I have been fortunate to have as much time as I had. But my time is up.”

“No.” Berk stands with me, his hands on my shoulders. “I’m talking with the other Scientists. I am working on some possibilities.”

“I don’t know if I want possibilities. They would just prolong the inevitable. Dr. Loudin’s simulations have made me long for something that will never be. They have made me dissatisfied here. I don’t want to stay here below. I don’t want to be used for more experiments.”

Berk drops his hands. “Don’t give up. Please.”

I close my eyes. As much as I want to spare Berk, I know the pain involved in losing a friend. I lost Asta. Twice. And even though he didn’t really exist, I lost Stone. The pain of those losses is terrible. I wish Berk didn’t have to go through it. But he does. So the sooner I can be out of his life, the better for him.

“I am going to ask to be annihilated tomorrow.” I raise my hand to stop Berk’s protestations. “Do not argue with me.”

Berk holds me again, and I feel his chest rise and fall heavily.
I rest my head on his shoulder, memorizing the feel, the smell. I lift my head and touch my lips to his cheek.

“I am not giving up,” he says. Then he walks out.

Before I have the chance to think about my decision, to change my mind, I open my unlocked door and walk down the hall, around corners, until I find an Assistant sitting at a desk.

“Please inform Dr. Loudin”—I keep my voice as quiet and calm as I can—“that I wish to be sent to the annihilation chamber tomorrow.”

“Very well.” The Assistant’s voice doesn’t even register surprise.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I
play the piece again. I have memorized the notes. I close my eyes. I beg the Designer—if he does exist—to show me, to explain what this means.

It is only fitting that the song that began all of this should be the last song that I play.

When I played it in the pod, I cried, knowing the answers were here but not knowing what those answers were. I am closer to the answers now. I can feel it. But they are still just out of reach. So I play it again and again. I will be annihilated this morning. But I refuse to go with unanswered questions.