Empty Streets (18 page)

Slowly, her body relaxed as she breathed in and out in careful, measured breaths. She was still cold, but her fingers were no longer purple. The run had helped shed water from her clothes and hair. Her body shook with fear, adrenaline, and cold.

She waited.

She waited until she knew it would start getting light soon and she needed to go home. She waited with a growing sense of hysteria, panic burning in her shoulders and in her chest. She thought she heard him, over and over, and it was nothing each time. She waited until she couldn't wait another minute, and then she made a careful, numb trip home.

She stood outside her townhouse, staring up at the unrelenting brick. Practiced now, she grabbed a metal bar near the frame of the door, swung herself up and scaled the building until she reached her window. She climbed in, as quietly as possible, pulling off her wet clothes and throwing wet magazines under her bed before she crawled into her bed.

She stared at the ceiling, unaware of the sun rising, of a new day beginning, because for her it was still yesterday. It would always be yesterday. Please let him be okay, she thought over and over until she started to sob out her fear and frustration over what might be and what was.

A warning

Eri awoke to a loud, unfamiliar sound. She sat up, the darkness confusing her, until she remembered where she was with a sinking feeling. She heard the sound again. Is that knocking?

She tapped on her light, pulling clothes out of her clothing bin and throwing them on. She pushed her hair back from her face as she left her room, padding out into the dim hallway.

Her eyes were puffy and her head ached. Her heart raced, wondering if this was Bodhi, if he had come to her house, if something had happened. She ran up to the door and realized she didn't know the code, but could see the keypad blinking green. She put her hand on the knob and waited. The knock came again, three short bursts. She pulled the door open with such fierceness that it startled the man standing there.

Eri felt vulnerable and stupid, opening a door when she didn't know who was on the other side. The man eyed her warily, taking in her disheveled appearance. He frowned slightly. He had brown hair spiked all over his head, but it was beginning to thin and the spikes looked awkward and forced. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he squinted at her.

Eri's hands sweated as she and this man stared at each other. She looked past him at the street and saw a car. He was a street cleaner. He shifted his position and a brown bag in his hand became visible. It was similar to the bags delivered to her parents.

Eri nodded with understanding. "For my parents, then?" She held out her hand expectantly.

"Yes," the man said gruffly, as he shook his head no. He made eye contact with her and shook his head again, one time.

She nodded once and held out a hand expectantly. "Look, I don't usually receive their stuff, so do I pay you or what?"

"Tell yer mom we can square up later." He turned on his heel and left, not looking back at her.

She looked at him a moment longer, trying to shake the slumber from her head. She took a step backwards and shut the door with one push. Turning slowly, she pushed her hair back from her face again and dropped the bag on the floor. She headed to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

She came back into the living room and stared at the bag suspiciously, not sure if she should open it or not. The street cleaner had looked nervous, so this must be something out of the ordinary for him. He also wouldn't say anything about it, which means he must operate under surveillance. So if he wouldn't speak, it probably meant he was doing something the people that hired him might not like. This could be news from Bodhi.

Eri snatched the bag and opened it hopefully. A single piece of paper was folded inside. She opened it carefully, confused by the looped, handwritten words. The paper itself was brittle and thin, wilting under the pressure of her fingers. She held the paper up to read the faint words:

Do not look for him. They are watching you, so play the role as best you can. Hope is not lost, but time must pass. He will be okay.

Dr. Cera Carys

This paper will dissolve in water.

Eri read the letter over and over, committing it to memory as she walked to the sink and punched her code in. She filled a glass half full of water and stood next to the counter, reading the note one more time. Carys. Bodhi's mom.

She plunged the letter into water and watched as it disappeared. At first it grew heavy with the weight of water, pulled to the bottom of the cup. Then, slowly, it dissolved, particle by particle until it the cup held nothing but water. Everything was as it was before.

Eri sank to the ground. The kitchen floor was cool under her skin, the dusty cool of stone. She rolled onto her back, the dimness of the room and the hysteria bubbling in her chest working together to make the room spin.

How to handle this, how to not see him, how to trust that he's okay-her thoughts swirled quickly as she mentally ran down each path, each option she had. None of the paths ended with what she wanted: Bodhi back, just as he was. She knew it was done. He was gone.

Do not look for him. His mom's instructions had been clear. The fact that she'd gotten Eri this note meant she must have bribed several people. She knew Eri's first instinct would have been to look for him, to see if he was hiding in any of the locations on the map. Eri wanted to rebel against this instruction. She didn't care about anything, but seeing him, protecting him. She knew it would be useless.

They are watching you so play the role as best you can. Her house would be under full surveillance. She had to pretend to not care, pretend on the Sims as if nothing was wrong. She would have to act like she has no idea what happened to him. She would have to lie, to create a persona that was both physical and emotional. She could feel her spirit callous under the weight of the thought. She could not grieve.

Hope is not lost, but time must pass. How much had Bodhi and his mom talked about his worries and his plans? How much did she know of what he and Eri were doing? By hope, did she mean hope to see him or hope to change all of this, to destroy this rigid maze that trapped them within the confines of their limited existence? What was there ever, if not hope? She had seen her hope flee in the night while she had covered herself with water. He was the one who should have hidden. He was the one with the knowledge and answers. It was his desire to protect her and arrogance at his abilities that got him caught.

She couldn't be mad at him, but she desperately wanted to feel something other than sadness. Time must pass. How much time?

He will be okay. Will be, meaning he isn't right now. But his mom sounded certain in this conjecture, that he would be okay, not that he might be. Would she know? Was Cera allowed to see him? Where was he?

Eri turned her head, allowing one small tear to travel down her temple and drip on the floor. She sat up, blinking, remembering that she had gotten a gift from Bodhi yesterday, that just yesterday they had sat together, laughed together, and then it was gone.

Running up the stairs, Eri stumbled into her dark room, tapping her lamp and rooting around for her damp clothes from last night. She found the pants, digging her hands deep into the pockets until finally she closed her fingers around a cold metal object. In the blue light, she examined it, its letters glowing slightly in the dimness. She turned it over, rubbing the tip of her finger along the inscription. Conscience. What did it mean?

She sat on the edge of her bed, feeling any ounce of denial disintegrate. She had lost him. And her brother. To what? Losing herself to it was tempting; to become a droid in the robotic marches of the masses towards a grey, lifeless sofa and cold television. She could numb herself physically, spiritually, and emotionally, giving up on all of it with such totality that she herself might even forget there was ever another option. She heard a sweet, sympathetic voice in her head that said this was all too hard, too unfair, and too much for her to do alone. She should sleep endlessly and then find something to occupy her mind until it was time to sleep again.

This temptation was great, as she lay down, closing her eyes and letting the lamp time out into darkness. She could feel the aching in her limbs lessen as she teetered towards sleep. Her breathing slowed as she thought, and what else? What else is there? And the word conscience floated in front of her mind, wavering like ripples in water.

What if she were to see him again, someday, when they were old, crossing paths at the edge of town, working jobs or on the shuttle, traveling to their distant homes? What if she were to see him, and he didn't recognize her anymore because she wasn't who she had been? To roll over and neglect the thinking they had devoted to this felt like an epic betrayal. It felt like a lie. But it felt easy.

She opened her eyes into the darkness. She could try to fool them all with her complacency, her interest in all things trivial. She could become the citizen she had never been, ready to take her place in the work force and live a quiet life of solitude. She could stare at the TV, night after night, and order her groceries and celebrate at work parties, with fake smiles and superficial conversation. She could do it all because that's what it looked like for time to pass, for her to wait for the moment when she could unbury it all, exposing the casual flaws of their society. She would bide her time, until it was time, time to see him, time to start the chaos. She would see him again. I will find a way.

Eri bit her lip with anticipation, feeling the blood trickle into her mouth as she stared at the ceiling. She would become the most patient person who'd ever lived. What she wasn't certain of was if she was the cat patiently waiting for a mouse or the mouse waiting for the cat to go away.

Transitions

7 Months Later

Every time they hit a pothole, the people on the shuttle tensed. It was crowded with unfamiliar bodies and unfamil-iar smells. No one made eye contact; no one spoke.

A week prior, Eri had received several packages delivered to her front porch. When her parents had gotten home from work, they had brought the items in with them, and she had raised an eyebrow curiously.

"What's that stuff?" she had asked, standing up from the couch.

"Stuff for you." Her mom had smiled a watery smile at her. Eri knew her mom was trying to use fewer of the pills from the street cleaners because she had heard her talking to her dad about their "addiction." Eri knew her mom still took one every day on the way home. Her speech was always a little slowed and her eyes a little blurry.

"Oh," Eri responded. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel happy about these items.

"They are from the Sims. I think they are your graduation materials." Her mom had sounded remotely excited as Eri opened a box carefully. Inside lay a navy blue, slippery material like nothing Eri had seen before. She pulled it out and held it up to her chest.

"A blanket? Shirt?"

"It is a gown, to wear at graduation. And look," her mom dug through the box a little bit, emerging with a dark square of material. "A cap to go with it." She put the square of material on Eri's head and a tight piece of elastic held it there.

Eri looked at her mom, who smiled at her wistfully. Eri wondered what her mom saw when she looked at her. Eri smiled back.

Her mom took a deep breath. "Eri, your last Sims session is this week. Graduation is next Saturday."

Eri pulled a digital device out of the box. It had a small plug to insert into the TV. She sighed and walked to the TV, plugging it in and waiting for the message. A pleasant looking woman appeared on the screen, informing them of the details of the ceremony: the date, time, location, and directions to ride the shuttle. She looked up at her mom. "What exactly is graduation? Like, what's the point?"

"Oh, Eri, honestly, don't you all talk about it? It's a big deal! It means you completed the Sims requirements. See?" Her mom held up a paper that listed all the classes Eri had taken and all the grades she had received.

She had shrugged in return, not sure why this was exciting, but deciding she should probably play along. She had a role to play, after all.

Over the next week, Eri had asked other kids in her classes about graduation and it turned out pretty much everyone knew about it except her. It was a ceremony, where she received confirmation of her completion of the Sims program and her parents could clap for her as she got the paperwork verifying her completion. This seemed odd to Eri, since they did everything through the Sims, but this was "real." It must be because it was for their parents, who couldn't log on to the Sims. Still, it seemed to her like they could come up with an alternative. Perhaps there were some traditions that were so ingrained in the American psyche that even technology couldn't replace them.

Now, standing in a dirty, crowded shuttle, Eri felt an odd mixture of trepidation and excitement. Being outside felt good, the air and dirty sunshine sinking into her bones like a warm bath. But being with this many people who were uncomfortable with the outside, with traveling, and with each other, created an uneasy tension. Eri switched arms, extending her arm fully to reach a small handle that hung down in the middle of the shuttle. The reach made her shoulders burn. She thought about bringing her arm down to her side, but was afraid a bad pothole would throw her into another person.

She had given her seat to someone who had looked old and tired, who had smiled a weak, silent smile at Eri for the gesture. It was weird, seeing people together. They didn't speak, although the graduates, obvious by their gowns, looked at each other with interest. Some of the kids Eri thought she almost recognized. It was just a guess, of course, but Eri thought she might recognize at least half of the kids on the shuttle. Still, even the combination of interest and recognition did not incite anyone to break the silence.

As they neared the outdoor theater where the ceremony would be held, Eri felt a ripple of nervousness on the shuttle. People looked a little irritated, and she wondered if it was due to their lack of experience in actually socializing. Talking through the Sims or at work functions was very different than upholding actual small talk. Eri didn't care; she was pretty sure she could carry on a conversation. She just didn't have the desire to speak to anyone today and wasn't going to bother pretending. She had been pretending for seven months and it was wearing on her. Pretending to be normal, pretending to enjoy the Sims world, the IP time, pretending to be happy and satisfied with this path, this existence…it had almost proven too much at the end. Almost.