Luminary (7 page)

“I hope they have some beef cattle in there.” John cranes his neck to see. “What I wouldn’t give to have a juicy steak.”

“We got ’em.” The driver turns to look at John. “Over in the west pasture. What did they feed you folks up there?”

“You don’t want to know.” John and the grizzled driver share a laugh.

Beyond the fence that holds the dairy cattle, I see trees. Many trees, all together. “Are those oranges?”

“They sure are.” John smiles. “I didn’t realize Texas grew oranges. We had huge orange groves in California. A buddy of mine managed one of the largest, way down south. It was a lot of work, but they’d produce thousands and thousands of oranges every year. We used to take the kids down after he harvested. They did it with machines, but the machines missed some. So old Charlie would let us come with big baskets and
take as many as we could eat. The kids would eat five or six just on the ride home, then we’d squeeze them into the best orange juice you’ve ever tasted. And Amy—” John laughs. “Amy could make all kinds of things with the leftovers. Oranges with chicken, with fish, in smoothies and cakes and muffins. She was quite a cook.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Such culinary variety was not part of life in the State.

“It was.”

The driver glances at John. “Where in California you from?”

“Just west of San Diego.”

“That was beautiful country.”

John nods. “Sure was.”

“My parents were from Sacramento.” The driver turns to face John. “We used to drive up there every summer to visit my grandparents. We always stopped in San Diego to visit the zoo.”

“We had season passes when the kids were little.” John smiles.

The driver turns back around, but he has a smile on his face. I try to imagine what this world was like before the War, when people could travel hundreds of miles and see cities all along the way, not just long stretches of dust-covered nothingness. A place filled with families and zoos and friends. I can’t fathom that world. It is strange that it existed just four decades ago, that John still remembers it so clearly.

“Look at the pods.” Berk points to the structures so different from ones in the State that they can hardly be classified as pods.

From a distance they looked a little different. Not white, but I expected that. I saw pods in Progress, and even though they
weren’t real, they were modeled after the images of ancient dwellings we saw on our learning pads. But even those did not look like these. The exteriors are made from trees, cut into long pieces and fit together. Remnants of ancient homes are scattered around, obviously vacant and picked through.

John must see the questions in my eyes because he places his hand over mine. “All the homes before the War were dependent on technology. In that way, they were no different than the State. My guess is that this town survived damage from the War, but the technology was wiped out all around the globe. Easier to build something new than to try to fix the old.”

The driver turns around. His voice has an edge to it, although I don’t understand why. “We have a simple way of life here, and that’s how we like it. If you want something else, I suggest you head on over to Athens.”

John leans toward the driver. “Please excuse me if I sounded critical. I think you have a fine town, and we are grateful for your hospitality.”

The driver grunts but seems to relax in his seat. The distractions of the cows and the trees are gone, replaced again by a suffocating fear. We are almost there. Almost to where the Scientists are waiting for us. My mind races with the possibilities as the truck slows.

We are in front of a huge structure. This is different from the pods. It is made from cement—like the ends of the State. It is massive, with holes in the front I assume were once windows.

John chuckles beside me. An odd sound at a time like this. “An old Walmart.”

“What?”

But he doesn’t have time to respond because out of the
structure come two older, distinguished people, a man and a woman. The man has reddish hair sprinkled with white. His fair skin is slightly wrinkled. He is thin but appears healthy. The woman has dark hair, curly but short. Her skin is a light brown—similar to my podmate Asta, who was annihilated when we were nine. The woman appears to be the same age as the man, a little heavier with fewer wrinkles and no white hair.

The driver motions to the couple. “These are the Scientists.”

I let out a loud exhale, relief replacing fear. These are not State Scientists. They do not appear to have intentions to kill us. They look curious, not angry.

“Where did you come from?”

Berk eases himself out of the truck to face the Scientists. “We are from the State. We were scheduled to be annihilated, so we escaped.”

The woman’s eyes narrow. “How did you escape?”

Berk explains his plan—stealing decontamination suits and food and a transport and a chamber, then looking up the map.

“And how do you know you aren’t being followed?” The man raises his eyebrows.

“We don’t know for sure,” Berk explains. “But we have been traveling for almost two weeks. If they were to come after us, they would have done so by now.”

“So the State still exists.” The man looks at the woman, and something unspoken passes between them.

“You know about the State?” I ask. With no technology, how could they possibly be aware the State even exists?

The woman steps forward and takes a deep breath. “We escaped from the State too.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
he Scientists have ushered us into their pod. They know we have questions, but they want to ask us their questions first. They fill a table with food as they ask, and we have no choice but to answer. Actually, Berk is talking while the rest of us are eating. As curious as I am, I am even hungrier.

John devours the strange foods. I cannot bring myself to try the meat or cheese, but I do eat the fruit and vegetables. I even manage to taste what they call “dip” on a slice of carrot. It is different. A creamy texture I am sure I don’t want to know the source of. But I might try it again. Later.

“How are they accounting for the oxygen issue?” The woman is very concerned with the oxygen in the State.

I have heard variations of this question several times now. But I don’t hear Berk’s answer. I don’t want to think about the State, don’t want to talk about the State. I want to forget it, to believe we’re in a place where we are all safe.

This building is odd. It was obviously once one gigantic pod, but now it is divided into several pods. We are in a section like a living area, with places to sit and a kitchen. I wander out the door to the next section. It is larger—about the size of the music chamber in the State. There are at least two dozen chairs with desks. Some smaller than others. Bookshelves line the walls.

I have never seen a real book, just pictures of them on my learning pad. They look beautiful, all different colors and sizes. They are arranged alphabetically by author. I want to read one. We were taught that stories were for ancients because they could not deal with reality. We were conditioned to understand facts and not require any type of escape. But I escaped through music. And I loved it. I have always wondered if stories would be the same.

I pick up a book by someone with a last name of Dickens. The book feels as if it could fall apart in my hands. The pages are brittle and yellow, and someone has written all along the sides of the pages and underlined sentences. We would never be allowed to do that in the State. And there are so many words. Too many. We were taught that communication should always be direct. Never use five words when one will suffice. Obviously this Dickens did not receive that same instruction.

“Thalli.”

Rhen’s voice surprises me, and I slam the book closed. “Yes. Of course. I am coming.” I am embarrassed to have been caught in here. Will Rhen and Berk laugh about me together when they
are alone? The thought makes me sad. I should be thankful—we are here in this village, and the people seem friendly. They have food and pods. My friends are safe. But I still miss Berk.

John, Berk, and the Scientists are sitting on the couches in the living area. Rhen and I sit in chairs facing them. The room is silent. The male Scientist clears his throat.

“My name is Carey and I worked to help build the State. I was an aerospace engineer. For years I worked for a company that built shuttles that would travel to other planets. But we lost funding, and government officials approached me about their plan to build an underground superstructure. They knew nuclear war was a real threat.”

“They wanted to build it to protect the government.” I knew this much.

“Actually”—the woman Scientist looks at Carey—“that’s only partly true.”

Rhen leans forward. “What?”

“The government couldn’t afford the costs of building the State.” Carey’s voice is quiet. “So they allowed wealthy individuals to purchase a pod, promising they could live in the State in the event of a nuclear war.”

John’s eyes are wide. “I never knew that.”

“We didn’t know either.” Carey shakes his head. “There were many things we didn’t know.”

“Go on.” I want to hear more. How much of what we were taught were lies?

“We didn’t find out about that until much later,” Carey says. “When I came on, all I knew was I had a government grant to help construct the superstructure so it could survive a nuclear attack. Once those plans were in place, I helped develop the
blueprints for the pods. We used the most state-of-the-art material we could find, knowing it might not be able to be replaced or repaired for many years.”

“They have held up well.” Rhen nods. “Everything has.”

“Everything but the oxygen.” The woman doesn’t say this with malice. She seems truly saddened about this fact. “Sorry, I am Kristie. Before working for the State, I developed technology to make hyperbaric chambers.”

“You were an expert in managing oxygen.” Which is why she is so concerned about the oxygen levels in the State. Those were her creations.

“Yes.” Kristie sighs. “I was so young when I started there. Barely thirty. I thought I was helping to save humanity. I was sure we could come up with something huge. The Scientists working there were the best in the country, and we were all working toward the same goal. Or so I thought.”

“At first, we were.” Carey places his hand on Kristie’s knee. “But when the War actually happened, things changed.”

“Because there was no warning?”

Carey and Kristie exchange a look before Carey continues. “Is that what you were told?”

“Yes.” I swallow hard.

“We had equipment that allowed us to monitor the locations of the countries around the world that had nuclear weapons.”

“You knew the attack was coming?” I have never seen John angry. His face is red and he stands up, moving away from Carey and Kristie.

“
We
didn’t.” Kristie stands and takes John’s hands in her own. “Please believe me. If we had known, we would have contacted the president immediately.”

“Some of the Scientists felt that the current government was not worth saving.”

“So they didn’t tell them?”

“No.” Kristie takes a deep breath. “Nor did they tell those who had invested in the pods.”

“But the military had radars,” John says. “They knew. The White House knew. Right?”

Carey lowers his head. “We had the most brilliant minds in the country. Rerouting all information through our headquarters was simple.”

“They kept that information from the government?” John’s voice is louder than I have ever heard it.

“They didn’t trust the president.” Kristie folds her arms across her chest. “They didn’t like him.”

“Let me make sure I understand this.” Berk leans forward. “You are saying the Scientists knew the attack was coming, and they refused to save anyone?”

“They were part of the attack.” Kristie looks at John, her eyes sad. “They moved our weapons into position, forcing the enemy countries to do the same. Then once our weapons were discharged, the other countries responded in kind.”

“The Scientists destroyed the whole world.” I can hardly believe what I am saying, what I am hearing.

John is sitting now, his head in his hands. He is rocking back and forth. His voice is so muffled I can hardly hear him. “James Turner? Did he know?”

“James?” Carey says. “No, no, James was unaware. Spires, Loudin, and Williams made that choice. James was just as angry as the rest of us were.”

John takes a ragged breath. “Good. Good. Thank you.”

“But when it was over, we were divided,” Kristie continues. “Loudin believed we had the chance to make an evolutionary jump, to create a new, better version of man.”

“Without emotions to cloud our judgment and create conflict.” Berk shakes his head—we know these reasons.

“Yes.” Carey nods. “And in that, they meant well. The world was so dangerous, with so much evil and hate and fear. They were sure that if the government were allowed in, they would simply rebuild another country to mirror the one destroyed.”

“But what about the others?” I cannot help thinking of those who paid for the State to be built. They paid for my life with theirs.

Carey shrugs. “Loudin said they were more of the same—greedy, selfish, and concerned with power. He felt we needed to start with just the fifteen of us.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

F
ifteen?” I feel like the room is spinning. “What do you mean fifteen? There are ten Scientists.
The
Ten.”

“Ten remained,” Kristie says. “Five of us could not agree to their plan. We didn’t want to create new people. We believed people could be taught to be better. We believed families are important.”

“Emotions too.” Carey takes Kristie’s hand in his.

“But we were outnumbered.”

Berk blinks several times. “But how did you escape so soon after the War?”

“We didn’t leave immediately,” Carey says. “For a while, we were all in survival mode.”

“When things settled down, though, Loudin outlined his plan. And he had the others firmly on his side.” Kristie bites her lip. “The Geneticists had already begun creating the first generation.”