Anomaly (26 page)
“Of course. Assistants and Monitors. Every day.”
“How about an old man?”
“An old man?”
Why hasn’t John come? She has to have been here for several days. Surely he knows she is here.
I hear a sound outside, a door slamming. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”
“The probability of that is quite remote.” Rhen looks at me, waves, and is gone.
The door to the stairwell shuts loudly and I lean against the wall. I need to find a way to save Rhen. I need to talk to Berk and find out what is going on with the Scientists. I need to find out why John hasn’t visited.
And I need to do all of that without being caught.
I
cannot stay in this room any longer. Three full days have passed with no word from anyone. I haven’t visited Rhen again. I don’t have anything to tell her, no hope to give. But I listen at the door every time I hear footsteps in the hall, making sure they aren’t taking her. I don’t know what I would do if they did, but I know I would do something.
Where is Berk? Why hasn’t he come? What if something happened to him? What if Dr. Loudin found out about us, about me?
I begin pacing the room and am interrupted by talking. Someone is talking. Here in my room. I look at the wall screen.
There are no images. I listen more. No, the sound can’t be coming from the wall screen. It’s too small to come from there. I hear the wall screen from all sides. I just hear this from one place. From my couch. From my learning pad.
I peer into it and see Dr. Loudin in a lab I have never seen. He is speaking to another of the Scientists. I look closer. It is Dr. Williams. She looks older than the pictures I have seen in my lessons, but I recognize her face. She is responsible for the solar panels and for much of the electrical engineering in the State.
Berk must have placed a camera on his lapel and found a way to link the transmission to my learning pad. I don’t have time to think about the genius—and the danger—of this plan because Dr. Williams is speaking.
“As I said, the oxygen we are producing is no longer sufficient.” She is looking at a complicated machine.
“We will simply have to do away with a few more people.” Dr. Loudin says this without any emotion. “We can function with as little as 50 percent of the current population. We will just have to train the remaining population in more than one specialty.”
“That isn’t the solution.” Dr. Williams shows Dr. Loudin something on the machine. “The annihilation of Pod C has not improved conditions at all. The problem is not those who are breathing the oxygen. The problem is in the oxygen itself.”
I feel sick. All my friends, gone. And for nothing. I want to curl up and cry, but I need to listen. Berk wants me to hear what they are saying, what is happening.
“Then what is the solution?” Dr. Loudin folds his arms.
Dr. Williams looks at the camera, at Berk. “This is why I have asked Dr. Berk to join us. I have had him working on a possibility.”
“Dr. Berk?” Dr. Loudin turns. I feel like he is staring right at me. “I have had him working on something for me as well.”
“As you said.” Dr. Williams smiles. “We can teach more than one specialty.”
“Go on.”
Both Scientists are looking at Berk. “I believe we can treat the air from above the way we treat the water.”
“We dismissed that possibility years before the war occurred.” Dr. Loudin rubs his temples.
“I know.” Dr. Williams places a hand on Dr. Loudin’s arm. “But that was over forty years ago. We have developed newer technology. We have created Scientists even more evolved than we are.” She points to Berk.
“If we allow air in from above, we could all be poisoned.” Dr. Loudin is shaking his head.
“Not if it’s treated.”
“And how do you plan to treat the air, Dr. Berk?”
Berk takes a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?” Dr. Loudin looks at Dr. Williams as he says this.
Berk’s hand goes up. “
I
don’t know. But I believe we can discover the solution by modifying one of your cerebral studies.”
Dr. Loudin’s brow wrinkles.
“As you know, I have been working to analyze the connection between the musical and the linguistic centers of the brain.”
“Yes.”
“There is a link between the two, but not in the conscious mind,” Berk says. “I believe if we can find a way to make that connection, to break the barrier between the conscious and
unconscious, we can discover solutions to this and many other problems.”
“If?” Dr. Loudin’s face is red. “You are coming to me with a hypothesis? I thought you said he had a solution, Dr. Williams.”
“I do,” Berk says. “I mean, I believe I do. But I can’t go any further without your help.”
“I do not have time to help you with your projects,” Dr. Loudin says. “I have far more important things to do.”
“Listen to him,” Dr. Williams shouts. Dr. Loudin folds his arms and glares at Berk.
“If I can use your simulation program, I believe I can place someone inside a piece of music.”
Dr. Loudin expels a heavy breath. “That is ridiculous.”
“You created an entire village aboveground,” Berk says. “The subject says it was so real, all five senses were engaged.”
“Yes, and the results of that project helped me better understand the mind.” Dr. Loudin is speaking to Berk like he is a child, not a Scientist. “I can pass that understanding on to the Geneticists as they develop the next generations.”
“And I can use it to help ours,” Berk insists.
“By taking someone inside a piece of music?”
“Not just anyone.” Berk’s hands emphasize each word. “It has to be someone gifted in linguistics. In logic.”
“Why not use one of us?”
“As you know”—now it is Berk’s turn to speak to Dr. Loudin like a child—“we were designed to have several areas of specialty. Those designed to be the logical members of their pods had that segment of their brain amplified.”
“Of course I know that.”
“They are designed to be logical, to decode messages, to
make sense of difficult problems,” Berk continues. “And they are designed to do that without being distracted by anything else.”
Dr. Loudin opens his mouth and closes it again. “If they could break the barrier in the simulation—”
“Then we could use that to tap into the subconscious brain. And who knows how many solutions we can discover then.” I can hear the smile in Berk’s voice.
Dr. Loudin walks up to Berk. He stands so close I can only see his neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You believe the solution to our problem lies in music?”
“I cannot answer that with a definitive yes, but I do believe exploring that possibility is worth our efforts.”
“What materials do you need?” Dr. Loudin steps back, and Dr. Williams is smiling behind him.
“I will need access to your lab and your program,” Berk says. “I will also need two subjects. One gifted in music, one in logic.”
“Do you have a pair in mind?”
“Yes, sir. I certainly do.”
P
lay it again.”
I am in the performance pod. Berk brought his own recording equipment and attached it directly to the piano. I have been playing the same piece for four hours, stopping to explain everything about it—the chords, the key, the values of the notes and the rests. I haven’t thought about music theory in so long that I have to pull up old lessons on my learning pad to find the answers to some of the questions Berk is asking.
I know this frustrates him. He wants to get this part of the program set so he can move on to the next part. I want to ask him when we will begin, how Rhen is doing, if John is all right.
But Assistants are at every corner so I can’t. I can only play and answer his questions. I am getting frustrated as well.
But I play and try not to think about my fingers aching, my back aching, my legs aching. Berk stays hunched over his equipment, tapping and adjusting and stopping me so he can play back what I wrote.
“Are you sure you played exactly what was written?” he asks. Again.
“Yes, I am sure.” The new Thalli is not supposed to have any emotion, so I work to keep my voice level as I answer.
“But you didn’t look at the music.”
“I don’t need to look at the music.”
Berk looks at me. I raise my eyebrows. Slightly. But enough for him to know that I do not need him questioning my musical ability.
He sighs and leans back. “You know, I think we may need to stop for the day.”
The Assistants suddenly stand straighter.
“You all may leave.” Berk stands and motions to the door. “We will begin again tomorrow morning.”
“Would you like me to return the patient to her room?” one of the Assistants asks.
“No, thank you.” Berk rolls his neck from one side to the other. “I might need her help.”
The Assistants file out the door and I storm into the practice room, needing to be away from cameras—and from Berk—for a few minutes.
I shut the door, making sure the soundproofing seal is in place, and I scream. Long and loud. It feels wonderful. A violin sits in the corner, but for the first time in my life, I can’t stand
the thought of playing any music. I jump up and down, my muscles begging to be exercised after being forced in one spot for so long. I place my right leg on the wall and stretch my fingers to my toes. I do the same with the other leg and then I raise my arms above my head, leaning right and left, bending down.
I feel much better. The screaming and stretching technique is quite effective. The door opens and Berk walks in.
“Is it safe for you to be in here?”
“I think I’m in more danger from you than I am from the cameras.” His grin melts away any remaining frustrations I might have been harboring.
“You were very demanding.” I lean against the padded wall.
“I am trying to save your and Rhen’s lives.” Berk sounds like he might need a little scream and stretch.
“I know.” I walk to Berk and hold him close. “Thank you.”
Berk relaxes. I lay my head on his shoulder and rub his back with my hands. His muscles are so tense. I forget that he has also been working all these hours.
“Turn around.” I pull away and point him toward the door.
“What?”
I rub his knotted muscles. “How is that?”
“Worth working all day for.”
I keep rubbing, neck, shoulders, spine. “Brilliant trick with the learning pad, by the way.”
“It took some work.” Berk turns his head to look at me. “But I knew you’d have a million questions if I just grabbed you and brought you here.”
“I still have a million questions.”
Berk laughs. “So I did all that for nothing?”
“No. I would have had two million otherwise.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
“How dangerous is the situation?” I ask. “How much time until the oxygen supply is gone?”
“We’re not sure.” Berk turns me around and begins rubbing my shoulders. “No one has been able to determine an exact formula to measure the deterioration. Some days are better than others, but we don’t know why that is either.”
“That’s why you’re working so hard to get this completed.”
“Yes. So that’s one question down. Only 999,999 to go. What’s next?”
“Let’s sit.” I pull away and ease down on the carpeted floor. Berk sits beside me. “How is John?”
“He was sick,” Berk says. “I wanted to tell you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He is old, Thalli.” Berk’s eyes are sad. “It is amazing that he has lived this long.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“He just got sick.” Berk shrugs. “I don’t know what was wrong. I just know he was in the medical pod for a while, but now he is back.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Has he seen Rhen?”
“No,” Berk says. “She isn’t scheduled for annihilation anymore, so he isn’t allowed.”
“Can I see him?”
“You aren’t supposed to remember him.”
“Can’t you turn the cameras off in our wing again?”
“I’m a little busy right now.” Berk bumps my shoulder with his.
I lean my head back against the wall. “What happens when this is over?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” Berk takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.
I think again about the Designer. Is this really all part of his plan? If it is, it seems awfully risky, awfully complicated. I wish he would make things simpler. Show himself to the Scientists, convince Berk he is real.
But maybe making things easy isn’t part of his plan.
W
e’re ready.” Berk is standing at my door.
We have spent the last four days in the performance pod. I have written a five-page piece of music that includes everything I know about music. It had to be complicated, with a variety of keys and rhythms. I had to use every note on the piano at least once. And when I was finally done and had rehearsed enough so I could play it flawlessly, I had to perform with a dozen probes stuck to my skull and another dozen attached to the piano.
