Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (3 page)

The cool air of the forest enveloped them as they traveled the dirt path, and a gentle bio-wind released a bouquet of autumn leaves to spiral through the air and rain upon their bodies. The mournful wind continued to breeze and the woolen blanket Laurel placed upon their father flapped, threads dancing in the air. The path eventually wound to The Orchard and into the meadow that framed The Rows, the agricultural gardens that nourished the community.

A large metal structure punctured with sizeable holes had been wheeled into the meadow from the undertaker’s shop, filled with ceremonial wood and juniper branches. Additional juniper branches lined the outside of the metal frame for the community to set upon his father. Tall lit torches placed in the soil were positioned at each corner to mark the four cardinal directions, the wispy smoke ascending to the dome ceiling like souls released to Heaven. The ceremony bearers lowered the litter upon the prepared wood and then stood to the side as all the families encircled the funeral pyre.

Brother Markus stood before his father and began to pray in a loud voice, “Thank you Heavenly Father for gifting us with Joel Watson, an extraordinary and honorable man. His life will forever bless our souls, and his memory will remain alive through the love and good deeds we extend to one another. It is with a heavy but thankful heart that we commit his spirit unto you.” The Holy Scriptures pressed against the monk’s heart as he lifted his free hand and gave the sign of the cross. In quiet, somber voices the community chanted, “Amen.” Brother Markus met Leaf’s eyes and nodded for him to come forward.

Leaf glanced furtively at The Elements, each face creased and shadowed with grief. There were no obvious indicators that they or their families had placed the card on his father. Could it have been a resident from the village? His thoughts had been lost to the woods for a period, and he had not greeted those who came to pay his father respect. Although,
Leaf’s apartment had only been officially open to the Noble families.

He
stood before his father’s body and swallowed nervously. Leaf reached out and placed his hand in one pocket, revealing it was empty, and then performed the same task on the other. Those gathered reflected mild confusion, including the Noble houses. This was the first time an object was not found upon the deceased before cremation. Objects were even found on newborns. Willow placed a hand over her mouth in astonishment and met his gaze with large eyes. Leaf maintained a steady countenance, ignoring the reactions, and turned toward Brother Markus for further instruction.

“May the elder matriarchs come forth.”

Four women in their late sixties and seventies came forward, the lead carrying a folded shroud in her hands. Practiced precision guided their movements and they quickly wrapped the ceremonial cloth around his father in several layers. Once their occupation was complete, they each picked up a juniper branch and placed it on top of his father’s body, bowing as they did so. The community formed lines on either side of the funeral pyre, placing juniper twigs and branches upon the shrouded body, bowing before his father’s corpse.

When the last family paid their respects, the Fire Element came forward and provided Leaf an unlit torch. Leaf straightened and approached the burning torch representing North, the cardinal direction that signified the Earth Element. He extended his arm and watched as a flame sparked to life, burning brightly and smoking heavily. With a shaky arm, he faced the funeral pyre and slowly lowered the torch until the flame connected with the juniper branches. The twigs and branches quickly became consumed with fire, veiling the pyre in thick smoke, and the crackling roar of burning wood rushed in his ears.

He dropped the torch onto the funeral pyre and took a step back before his knees gave way and he knelt before his father, touching his forehead to a verdant patch of earth. Sorrow convulsed through Leaf’s entire body, and his shoulders shook, trembling beneath the weight of his grief and the weight of responsibility.

Leaf needed to make a decision. His father’s voice reverberated throughout the corners of his mind to leave and abandon the community while
Leaf’s gut shouted to remain and uphold his new position. Both were terrifying situations, most especially in light of the card in his pocket. Slowly Leaf lifted his head and glanced at Willow who stared at the fire in a trance, her face a perfect storm of grief. His pulse began to calm in his chest, quieting his raging thoughts; and Leaf anguished over which path to take until a visceral knowledge appeared and marked the map outlining his future. Leaf knew exactly where he should go and what he should do.

His sister tu
rned her head and met his gaze, arching a single eyebrow, the flames of the funeral pyre flickering in her eyes.

***

Space Biosphere Ventures began in the 1960s as a group inspired by space exploration and the potential for profit that space exploration promised. In an effort to see how people might survive in a closed system, the group began to build Biosphere 2 in 1987. With funds from Texas billionaire Ed Bass, the group completed their project in 1991, and in September of that year eight people were sealed inside the glass and metal structure and given no more food, water, or oxygen other than what they could provide for themselves from the diverse habitats—biomes—placed inside.

—
Brandon Bishop, “From Prototype Mars Colony to Earth Science Laboratory: A Sketch of Biosphere 2,”
Field Notes and New Finds
, October 6, 2012

I have begun a new era for technology and sociology. New Eden Township, my biodome city, will surpass all that science experienced and desired from the Biosphere 2 Project in the early 1990s. My dream is that a whole generation will be born and raised in this artificial world, using ideas and gaming methods from live action role-playing to create a new world within a world as an experiment that will test
Isolation, Confinement, and Extreme (ICE) Environment Syndrome. Forget colonizing Mars and the moon just now—we still need to study the human psyche while it is disconnected from our home planet. It is time to colonize Earth once again. But instead of through military prowess and nationalism, it will be through the space age of sustainability and fantasy role-playing.

—
Hanley Nichols, on
Atoms to Adams Daily Show
, August 15, 2030

***

Tuesday, September 29, 2054

A
fter hours of struggle the weight in her chest gave way, and she slept, tormented and locked away in a tower of twilight-tinged nightmares. Now, a sound pulled her back, and her eyes flickered open in the pre-dawn moonlight, frantically blinking away the sleep. She inhaled deeply to steady her rapid breathing as her eyes strained to recognize the shape in the darkness. She shook away the nonsense of seeing a ghost, yet the voice and shape peering in through the opened door was reminiscent of her recently departed father.

Had it really been nearly three days since his death?

The identity of the form materialized as her eyes adjusted, and she resisted the urge to turn toward the wall. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, wishing the form belonged to an apparition after all. He was the last person she wished to see just now.

Leaf, her brother, slowly crept into the shadowed room and shut the door, silencing the click with measured movements.

Familiar resentment toward her older sibling began to fester, an additional emotion she did not wish to feel this night. The cool dampness on her pillow was evidence that she had suffered enough tears and had none to spare for her brother’s insensitivities. His sense of duty did not consider or show compassion toward her grievances. Instead, Leaf demanded in a quiet yet firm voice that she control herself, behave as a lady should—and he
never hesitated to provide private and public corrections—all the while completely ignoring her expressed discontent.
Laurel, their eight-year-old sister, received Leaf’s adoration and enjoyed a doting brother while she, the second-born, received only his dutiful attention and nothing more.

“Willow.”

Cold fingers touched her shoulder, and her skin startled in response, ruining her plan to feign sleep. With a resigned groan, she opened her eyes and looked up at the silhouette of her brother leaning over the bed.

“My name is Oaklee,” she said, preferring the nickname her father used.

Silence was interrupted by a sigh of frustration. “
Oaklee
,” Leaf dramatically whispered, crouching on the floor next to her bed.

She chose to remain silent as the dark air hung between them. Oaklee could almost hear her brother’s thoughts spin round, deciding if he should continue.

“I need to show you something.”

“Now?” Oaklee blurted. Leaf placed his finger on her lips as a reminder to be quiet. She slapped his hand away, and turned her head to the side, staring at the wall. “Leaf, have you lost your senses?”

With hurried tones, he said, “Father was not the only one burdened with a secret.”

Oaklee sat up with this confession, and her fingers began habitually playing over her cord of braided hair. Long strands had come loose about her face, tickling her exposed skin, and she tucked them behind her ear. Moonlight touched the blond tresses, turning them silver, as if coated in faerie dust. As she curled loose sections of the hair around her fingers, her imagination spun comforting thoughts of faerytale images, a welcome distraction against her growing trepidation. She waited for her brother to continue, refraining from response as her stomach fluttered. The latticed shadows of bare tree branches danced on her walls and clawed at her mind.

The fidgeting hand stilled, a strand tightly woven between two fingers, as the momentary safety she had felt dissipated. One secret had already changed so much. Her father’s last words opened the door to confusion in her previously happy and predictable life. Leaf’s words billowed all those anxieties, and the flames of fear leapt before her eyes and drew her in as he whispered once more.

“As a lad the age of ten,” her brother began, “I encountered a secret room beneath the biodome. I never understood what it was or what it meant.” Leaf dropped one knee to the floor for support as he crouched. “All I could think of was father’s confession while I prepared
his body for cremation, and I knew I needed to show you the room.”

She rested her gaze upon the outline of her brother and considered his words, squinting as a dull ache pained her swollen eyes. Goosebumps prickled her skin when a chill passed through her linen chemise and she blinked back the urge to shiver, wishing to uphold a posture of control. Leaf gathered the wool blanket pooling around her and raised the edges over her shoulders. The warmth was immediate and satisfying. She pulled the blanket tighter along her shoulders while maintaining a rigid demeanor, though his gesture cooled her temper some.

“Why are you sharing with me?”

Leaf shifted his weight, and Oaklee understood the answer ran deeper than parentage. A long sigh reached her ears as he placed his head in his hands and the mournful breath brushed against her forearms. He struggled to formulate the words, a common trait when he prepared to reveal a part of himself kept close. The shadowed outline of her brother stood and lowered onto the bed. Her body swayed with the depression, and she bumped into his shoulder as the ticking adjusted to his weight.

“I no longer know who I am able to trust, nor what my future is inside New Eden. If father’s secret proves true, then I have your and Laurel’s futures to consider as well. Especially as the Second Phase will begin within the year.”

“Leaf, that is madness,” Oaklee hissed. “Nothing has to change. Father unfairly burdened us with something that could very well destroy our happiness. How could he expect you to take on so much?” Tears brimmed as she thought of her father’s other request when confessing the family secret, one that implied an unspoken danger. “Personally, I enjoy my life in New Eden, and I am ready to forget his confession. We do not even know if it is true. What if he lost his mind as he neared passing?”

“I was apparently wrong. There is no one I am able to trust.” Leaf stood, a bit unsteady on his feet, and placed a hand over his chest as he cleared his throat, trying to mask the sorrow.

This had shifted into something more personal between them, and Oaklee groaned as she grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back onto the bed with force. “That is unfair. You know you can trust me, but that does not mean I have to agree with what I believe you are suggesting. You honestly believe we should leave New Eden?”

“Please, just come and see with your own eyes, and then decide what to believe.”             

She glanced at the shadows on the wall to decipher the time, her sleepy mind unable to interpret the angles quite yet. “What is the present hour?”

“Two o’clock morning time.”

“Do we leave Laurel here alone?”

“Yes, she shall be fine.”

Oaklee pulled her knees up to her chest, luxuriating in the warmth as her chemise draped over her toes. Leaf returned his head to his hands, and she knew the weight of his thoughts were heavy indeed. Tree limbs from outside her window continued to cast shadowed fingers through her room, scraping across her brother’s forehead, and her pulse quickened as her mind groped for a decision. The forest was calling them, beckoning with each bio-wind breeze as the darkness absorbed their fears. Neither one moved, she noticed—as if doing so would break the reservoir holding back their swelling anxieties.

Oaklee drew in a fortifying breath. “I shall accompany you. What may I bring?”

In an uncommon moment of affection, Leaf pulled her into a hug and kissed the hair atop her head. Oaklee startled and pushed him off as she came to a full stand. “I did not realize it meant that much to you,
My Lord
.”

“Yes, it really does,” he said soberly upon hearing his courtesy title, a formality the community gave him upon turning sixteen three years ago. Some in the second generation relished the esteem while others, such as Leaf, found it awkward and against their earthy nature. Oaklee was required to use formalities in public per The Code, but she wielded Leaf’s as a weapon privately.

“I brought candles to light upon reaching the hatch.” Leaf placed a taper and a small wrought iron holder in her hands.

“A hatch?”

“Yes, a well-concealed one. Wear a garment you find appropriate for climbing, bring your cloak, and then meet me by the entry door.”

In the dimness, Oaklee noted that her brother wore his work clothes. The linen breeches reached his lower calves rather than down to the ankle, an adjustment she had made to keep the pants cleaner and from fraying while working the gardens. She would don her garden work garments as well, keeping her full-length linen day dress clean for the morrow.

A short time later, she tiptoed down the hallway. Thoughts circled around endlessly of sneaking around the biodome at night as well as entering a secret room. She lightly chewed on her bottom lip as hesitation slowed her steps, the arguments in her mind continuing their debate as she tarried beneath the stone archway leading into the main living quarters.

Oaklee examined her brother as he leaned against the wooden entry door, head turned toward their parent’s empty bedroom with a look that made her still. The muscles in his jaw were visibly tense, and arms toned from years of hard labor folded rigidly across his chest. In all her fifteen years, she had never witnessed her brother appear so distressed. His nature always radiated a steadfast calm even in the most stressful of situations.

Leaf’s green eyes, appearing pale in the silvered light and shadows, moved in her direction as she wrapped her braid into a coil at the base of her neck, tying it off with a piece of mohair yarn. She ignored his inquisitive look and peeked into their sister’s room. The soft sounds of restful breathing greeted her ears, and Laurel’s long braid poked out of the blanket securely tucked beneath her chin.

Satisfied, Oaklee continued toward her brother who opened the wooden entry door as she approached. With a slight bow Leaf walked onto the deck and glanced in every direction, slowing his motion as a breeze fluttered against his cloak. Her hands rested on either side of the door frame, and her eyes widened with growing trepidation as she listened to the rustling leaves of the temperate forest whisper their warnings.

No words needed to be spoken. Oaklee knew that venturing out in the night was against the edict from The Elements, which only heightened her fear. Her feet anchored to the wooden floor as her mind contemplated the risks of a public trial to explain their late-night activity. But her brother’s confession tugged at her heart and pulled her forward. He would never request that she take such a risk unless it was dire.

Last year, a young man and woman from the village, both seventeen years of age, were caught dipping their toes into the creek during the dead of night. They stood trial before the community, and then married as demanded by the young woman’s father. Following the trial, Oaklee’s father warned both her and Leaf never to sneak out at night, as the young couple was fortunate that banishment was not issued. “Trust is paramount inside our forming world,” her father had stressed. “If we cannot depend on our community, then we have lost the heart and soul behind rebuilding what has been lost to the Outside world.” She had not fully understood what he had meant, but had responded dutifully. “Yes, father.”