Dark World: The Surface Girl (8 page)

              I perused my new surroundings. This all would have enthralled me just one day ago but now it was of minimal interest. The ground and walls were cemented and a few feet in front of me there was a drop-off. I looked down at the tracks. A tram would arrive and it would carry me out of my division for the first time ever. I should be looking forward to this and viewing it as an adventure but all I wanted to do was run. My body, as if wanting to obey my wishes, tensed but I forced myself to stand my ground. If I ran I would presumably be sent to the transitional containers. I had run too many times today.

             
I have to face this.
             
Silence was soon replaced with the dull hum of the soon to arrive tram. The hum grew louder and louder until it became more of a rumble. The cement under my feet began to vibrate. Then out of seemingly nowhere, the tram burst around a corner and seemed to make no distinction between full speed and a complete stop as it came to an instant halt in front of us. The entrance slid open. I simply stood there, transfixed, as I blankly stared at the open space in front of me. The inside of the tram would remain stationary around me and yet we would be moving. That was a concept I understood perfectly well when it came to the fundamentals of physics but it still seemed a bit too distant from the limited reality I had been exposed to for me to fully accept as a reality. The flatfoot cleared his throat. I still refused to offer him that “Is it okay, I need assurance” type of glance. I did not need his permission and I was NOT being forced into this. At least, not by him. I would never give him that satisfaction.
              I stepped semi-willingly onto the tram, sat down and curled my fingers around a cool-to-the-touch metal poll. I fixed my gaze directly in front of me in case the flatfoot was still attempting to provoke me into a submissive glance. The doors slid closed and the tram raced off without a hitch. It was much quieter from the inside. For about fifteen seconds.
              I jerked in my seat as the sudden boom of a trumpet cut through the silence like a deliberate attempt to startle me. I immediately recognized the bracing short tune as the anthem of The Complex, a jutting, dominant burst of notes meant to be bold, finalizing and intimidating. A picture formed on the front of the tram – a projection. A pre-recorded broadcast began. The silver infinity symbol that represented The Complex appeared small at first as it spun outward within the white background, but it grew in size as the anthem concluded. Etched on both rings of the symbol were the words
'We will prevail.'
I tore my eyes away from the projection. The symbol, as explained to us when we were small children, was supposed to be about perseverance; that nothing, not even the decimation of our planet could strike humanity down. Only, I wouldn't personally refer to a meaningless life lived within the confinement of The Complex as a triumph.
              A stern looking older woman with white-blond hair to her shoulders, cold, steel blue eyes and long, curved lashes that looked like two rows of tiny razors stepped into the field of the projection and turned facing front. Despite being aware that this was pre-recorded, I could swear her icicles were glaring right at me, singling me out, seeing through me, piercing my defensive walls and exposing my hesitations and resistance with sadistic pleasure. A very cold chill ran up my spine and fizzled through my fingertips because I knew exactly who this woman was. She was the supreme leader that sat on the government throne. She was the woman who ruled The Complex. As if her cold, all-seeing icicles weren't enough to make a person shrink away, she then spoke with a forceful, accusing tone. There had to be speakers all over the tram because her domineering voice seemed to come at me from all sides. I involuntarily shrunk down in my seat.
              “Good day. I am Commander SueLee and I want to congratulate you on being found physically and intellectually adequate for breeding. We have spared no expense in fine-tuning our genetic matching system in order to eliminate the possibility of anything being imperfect with your future offspring, and we are equally confident that you and your new partner will compliment each other well as you step into the future of humanity - together.
              “Optimum reproduction is vital to the future success of humanity. As you know, we eagerly await the day when we discover a new planet and our species is able to flourish freely once again, but until that time it is your duty and responsibility to ensure that when that day comes, the human gene pool is selected to manifest the best versions of ourselves that we can possibly be.

              “In front of your seat you will find a small vial. Prior to exiting the tram, you will open the vile and dab the substance on your wrist and on your neck. You and your mate should both enjoy the subtle fresh scent, but more importantly, the mixture contains a small amount of pheromones which should help ease any anxiety either of you are feeling upon your initial introduction, and assist in a quicker bonding process.
              “Welcome to your future. Welcome to your contribution. Welcome to your destiny.” Commander SueLee's finalizing words rang in my ears in the same way that a particularly terrifying nightmare lingers in your mind when you are just beginning to wake up. I shuddered again and forced my eyes away from the projector as her image began to fade and was replaced once more with the spinning infinity symbol as the trumpeted anthem finished off the presentation. The forceful tune finally faded into nothing and I was left once again with only the slight rumbling sound of the tram.
              Commander SueLee was
evil
. I had seen photos of her before when we learned about our government as small children, but this was the first time I had heard her voice. My reaction was the same as when the flatfoots dragged Grandpa Logan away – I instinctively
knew
she was soulless.
              Today had thus far been a day of discovery. First I discovered Reese had a rebellious side, and then I met a little girl who was lost and may be a government mole, or she may live on the surface which should be impossible. Either way, this tiny human had secrets. Then I found out that my father, Mister Joe-Dependable, had far more layers than I ever imagined. He had secrets, too.

              What secrets did Commander SueLee have? If the little girl really did live on the surface, did the Commander know that Earth isn't as unlivable as the government says it is? If so, what was the real reason we were all being kept down here? Whatever the reasons were, they couldn't be good and that filled me with a hypothermic fear that chilled me from the inside out.
              The tram came to a sudden stop and the immediate cease of forward momentum caused my upper body to lurch in my seat. I tossed out my hand to catch myself and my shoulders slammed backwards. Quickened footsteps approached me. I still refused to look at the insidious flatfoot.
              “Put it on,” his gruff voice commanded me. The very intent of his command made me want to resist and for a moment I couldn't even recall what he was talking about. My eyes noticed a small bulge in the pocket in front of my seat and then I remembered.
The pheromones.
             
This had to be a joke. There was no way I was going to smear perfume on my skin that would supposedly make Connor want me even more. I didn't
want
him to want me and no chemical was going to make me want him. I bit my lower lip. “NOW,” the flatfoot commanded again.

             
Screw you! No. No, no, and hell no. No.
             
My mother's face formed in my mind; her wide, worried eyes, her fingernails nervously scratching at her knuckles and her head buried against my father's chest. The internal image changed to my father's face and his promise echoed in my mind. I pressed my lips together as I reluctantly reached into the pocket to pull out the vial, like someone whose body was being controlled by a robot, willing their muscles against the forced movement but failing to out-strength the control of the machine. I hated myself but I hated the flatfoot even more. My fingers clutched the tiny stopper and plucked it from the vial. I dabbed the tiniest amount I could on my wrist and on my neck. With a snort of defiance despite already having done what was required of me, I tossed the bottle aside and the rest of it spilled onto the seat next to me. The flatfoot sneered at my tiny rebellion.
             
Sorry, Dad. But this is
disgusting
.
             
The doors opened. I quickly whipped my eyes away from the flatfoot. I stepped out of the tram, secretly grateful to have my feet back on solid – unmoving – ground. The flatfoot used the print-pad and opened a door that lead out into another hallway that looked identical to the one in Rhode Island. If I did not know that we had just travelled I would have inherently assumed it
was
the same hallway. After rounding a few corners he stopped in front of a large doorway, the meeting room, I already knew, since we had the exact same one in our division as well. Reality punched me in the gut.

             
Oh god. This is it. CAN I RUN? CAN I, CAN I??
             
My body tensed as a rubber band tightened around my lungs again. Without meaning to, I closed my eyes and allowed images of Reese to flood my mind. We were outside of the sealed passageways. His arms circled around me and his lips danced across my skin. All I wanted was to be closer to him. All I wanted was
him
.

              I forced my eyes open again but I allowed the images to remain. I
did
feel calmer. I realized that even when Reese wasn't with me.. he was with me.

              “You have two hours.” The flatfoot spoke to me distastefully as if he wished he could bash my head in. The feeling was very mutual. He stepped forward and pressed his thumb to the pad. The door opened. I pulled my shoulders back. It was now or never. I had to do this.

              Suddenly I forgot how my legs worked. Which muscles did I need to flex to move them forward? My feet clung to the floor as if they were glued. “Ruby?” It was Reese! He was here somehow! He was here and he was waiting for me and he was going to somehow save me from this nightmare and everything was going to be okay! My body snapped out of its paralyzed state and I rushed into the room. The door immediately slid shut behind me with a finalizing clink. I looked up, foolishly expecting to see the man of my dreams.

              I was an idiot. No, idiot wasn't the right word for what I was. I was
insane.
Reese was not here. He could not rescue me. He was sneaky, no doubt, but it was one thing to go unnoticed while tiptoeing into old passageways and quite another to somehow infiltrate a whole different division and steal me away literally right under the nose of a flatfoot. If I hadn't wished so hard for Reese I would have noticed right away that the voice calling my name was different than his. This voice wasn't quite as deep or as low. It didn't tell stories while only saying my name, and it didn't bring back a rush of memories. I swung my eyes forward and I saw him. Not
him
. Not Reese, but someone else. I saw Connor.
              Connor was physically quite tall, taller than Reese no doubt but there was no power coming from his height. Like all redheads his skin was pale but his face appeared even whiter than usual. Not that I had any idea what his “usual” looked like, he just seemed almost ghostly. There wasn't even a rosy color to his cheeks. He was skinny, almost gangly. Not much muscle to him at all. Maybe he would grow into that tallness someday, but maybe not. His hair was a bit wild; fairly short and spiky. I briefly wondered if he had ever seen a hairbrush but then I realized he probably styled it that way on purpose. Other young men I knew back in my division used to do that a few years ago. Maybe the “trend” hadn't died yet in Connecticut. With so few ways and opportunities for us to express our individuality I knew better than to comment on anyones chosen hairstyle. It was the only representation of autonomy some of us had.

              Connor's “special outfit” was a pair of brown, slightly tight slacks and a collared light blue shirt tucked into his pants. He looked very “polished” as my mom would say, but the way his outfit clung to his body unfortunately made him seem that much more twiggy.
              I shifted my eyes away from Connor because, to be honest, there was nothing about him that made me want to keep looking. Was I that put off by him, or was I that
put on
by Reese? Did my feelings for Reese blind me to even the possibility of finding anyone else attractive? Would I have thought Connor to be even remotely handsome if Reese didn't exist? These were pointless questions to ask myself because I knew I would never have the answers. Reese
did
exist. My feelings for him had existed for a long time and today I was given a glimpse of what being with him could feel like.
              Just because I had turned away from Connor didn't mean he had turned away from me. I suddenly became inexplicably aware of his intrusive eyes roaming my body. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck pricked. I moved toward the brown couch against the side of the room and sat. I pressed my knees together like Mom taught me. I folded my hands neatly in my lap. I knew my position was polite but uninviting. Body language was important. Mom reminded me of that, too, but she had wanted me to be open and flirtatious. I just couldn't do that. It seemed like I could feel the exact moment when Connor stopped eyeing me. He cleared his throat. “May I sit?” I shifted my eyes but only slightly. I shrugged a shoulder. Connor cautiously sat down on the other end of the couch. I appreciated that. He was respecting my space. Good. “You're very beautiful.” I did not blush. It was not Reese's voice saying that.
              “Thank you.” I replied curtly. I inwardly cringed. My tone was probably rude, but what was I supposed to say back?
'So are you?'
I knew this conversation was being monitored but there was no point in outright lying. Connor was not beautiful. Not to me. Probably not to many people at all.