The Forbidden Zone (2 page)

As soon as I felt normal again, the door to what I termed 'my cell' opened, allowing me access to the rest of the ship. A slow, stumbling walk to the control room told me that we still had three days left before our arrival on Valeria. My stomach was still a little queasy and I didn't exactly relish the thought of landing, but it wasn't not like I had any choice in the matter. A data tablet allowed me access to infinite science periodicals, and I spent three days reading in the Spartan, but comfortable, cabin they had set aside for me. Anything was preferable to the stasis pod. I didn't return to the stasis room for the duration of my trip. I had spent long enough in the coffin, and the experience had been traumatic enough that I wanted no reminder of the trial I had endured.

The comm beeped when we approached Valerian space, and I answered it as I had been taught, telling the air traffic control A.I. in perfect Valerian that I was the requested visitor. She sent the authorization codes and the ship did the rest, pulling us into orbit as I strapped myself in for landing. It was not quite as sickening as I had feared, and I made a mental note to thank the engineers for installing such a quality A.I. on my ship.

The debris shields that had covered my view of the planet from the cockpit windows lifted, and I had to say that the meager image of the Valerian landscape that I'd pictured hadn't done it justice. The purple sky looked like a set from some ancient science-fiction television show. The skyline was filled with obelisks, skyscrapers from a distant city. The blue moon loomed so large over the entire view that it almost seemed like it might crash into the planet. It was like something from a Riva Melodia album cover: the purple hues and epic moon telling a story even before the music started.

The door to the shuttle opened, and I found myself drawn to the exit. My first breath of Valerian air was the strangest experience of my life, and to this day, I do wonder if it was simply a psychosomatic effect. I had been warned that the oxygen content of the air was higher, but my lungs felt strangely full, my brain acutely aware of everything about me in a way that I imagine drug users are familiar with. My eyes soon settled on the welcoming committee of about ten or so Valerian diplomats and scientists. Somehow, I had expected a small crowd of curious onlookers, since I was supposedly the first envoy to the closed and secretive planet Valeria since the Age of Discovery. I should have taken it as a warning of how strictly controlled Valeria's society was, but at that moment, it never occurred to me that Valerians were not allowed to attend. As it turned out, the vast majority of the planet's inhabitants were unaware of my presence. If I had known that, perhaps I would have trod cautiously instead of awarding myself a sense of self-importance as an alien visitor.

Perhaps it was the oxygen or simply the new and exciting experience of landing on a different world, but I felt aware and alive in a way that I had never experienced as I looked at the group of lightly blue-green skinned aliens. They were short beings that were only as high as my shoulder, with eyes slightly larger than the human norm, and hair that was braided into one or many braids. They offered no greeting but simply nodded, as if accepting my presence. Something about them that first day unnerved me.

The head of the group, a tallish, feminine alien, when compared to the others, gestured for me to follow as the group made its way to a small bus. I followed the line in step and I didn't know what was unnerving me until the last of the aliens stepped onto the bus. The final young man to board turned to me with a brief flash of a smile that was definitely not in the script. He seemed like he might be younger than the others, and his skin was more blue than green, with a singular long braid that extended down to his waist. As quickly as he showed interest, his expression turned back to the usual mask of dispassion and he turned his back to me.

I saw the smile, but something inside me told me not to react to it, and that it might be forbidden. Lankis had warned me that Valeria was controlled in ways even we were not fully aware of, and something about how the young man's face had turned back to the mask of disinterest had told me that he wasn't supposed to have smiled at me. That what he had done, that small emotional reaction to my presence, was a forbidden act, one that might even be considered rebellion.

Our vehicle wasn't an anti-grav bus, and the sensation of hitting all the potholes on the road made my already-delicate stomach lurch. I realized it could be considered a severe breach of etiquette to vomit on the bus, and so I swallowed air until the urge to throw up had passed.

Fortunately, the others all seemed to stare straight ahead, completely uninterested in me and my slight medical hiccup as some kind of pop music played from tinny little speakers. The singer's voice seemed to lack all emotion, and I felt like the song was sucking the life from my bones. Perhaps I should have known that Valeria's idea of etiquette was nothing like our own - but that's the oddness of being a stranger on a strange world. I lived according to the rules of Earth and applied them to an alien culture without even realizing my error in understanding the way things worked, the framework of society. As a scientist, I should have known better than to assume the way that anything worked would match my own theoretical assumptions.

I must have dozed for a while, because I was startled awake by the sound of air brakes and the doors to the bus sliding open. The Valerians stood and stepped to the side, making a perfect line in their matching grey jumpsuits before they marched off the bus, leaving me sitting alone. Assuming I should follow, I stood and stepped off the bus. They must have wondered what an undisciplined individual I was, slouching down the steps, stretching my stiff back and legs while trying to keep my backpack of vital supplies on my shoulder.

"This is the Science Building." The leader of the group turned to me, and I realized there had been no introductions beyond the nodding. I didn't know her name, or the names of any of the others who had accompanied me on my journey.

I looked ahead of me at the concrete building. Plain, lifeless, a block without any kind of architectural flair stood before me. The bus pulled away and I turned to look behind me at the city we had arrived in. Every building, every skyscraper, was the same. It reminded me of the pictures I had seen in Earth History class of Soviet Russia. These buildings had not been fashioned from any kind of love of architecture or design, but as functional constructs. I had to say, at that point I was more than a little unnerved. There was so little individuality that it frightened a lone wolf like myself. I had spent my whole life understanding my inner self and honing my individual skills; it bothered me to see such uniformity, as if it might eat away at my own soul. I also realized that it was an odd double standard on my part. The Foundation was pretty famous for its matching uniforms, and news articles often spotlighted us as scientists who lacked flair and imagination. Yet something about me wanted to stand apart from these people as much as possible. There was more than a lack of imagination here; a total absence of freedom was visible even in the way they walked in step.

I wondered with a sheer drop in my gut how I was going to survive five years living in a place so artless. It's true that the sciences are based on facts and figures. They were my sole love until Lankis introduced me to music and art. I would have given a fortune in that moment to stand in the Foundation's courtyard and see the sunlight bouncing off that mirrored glass. To see the roses growing in the atrium. To admire the double-helix art fixture in the reception area, where you could place your hand and see the function of every gene in the human body. Lankis taught me that science has always held a creative element. Creation and imagination give rise to new theories, which are then tested and proven, or disproven, by method.

I was curious how Valeria could have the greatest claim to science in the universe with a landscape so uninspiring and a culture so flat. I theorized that perhaps science was in fact an outlet for repressed creativity in a society where every sign of individuality was seen as a possible threat.

I realized that every eye was on me. I had drifted into a daydream while they had been waiting for my response. With several sets of large, glossy eyes boring into my skull as if they could read my every thought and sense my disapproval of the concrete jungle around me, I found myself suddenly tongue-tied.

"I'm looking forward to seeing the labs," I managed to say, licking my lips. The air was dry in a way Earth's wasn't, and while the high the oxygen had given me was wearing off as my body adjusted to it, I could still feel a feverish sweat coating my back and forehead. More than anything, I longed to strip off my Foundation jumpsuit and take a long shower, but protocol was important to the Valerians, and I knew I had to endure whatever they had in store for me.

"Forward." The head diplomat, as I considered her, barked out an order, and the drones, as I dubbed them in that moment, made their way into the Science Building, single-file. Their leader followed last, with a gaze that seemed to indicate that I should follow.

I stepped inside, and one of the uniformly identical people I considered drones pressed a button. The doors sealed, and water sprayed us down, icy cold and shocking. I suppressed a cry of surprise and took back my secret wish for a shower, as my jumpsuit now hung to me like a cold, leaden weight. The water stopped, and I was about to ask how we were supposed to dry ourselves when hot air started to blow into the chamber. It was welcome, and my jumpsuit and those of the others seemed to dry quickly. As the hot air subsided and the doors opened, I realized this was their form of decontamination.

"Clever," I observed. "We're usually not as..." I struggled for a Valerian equivalent to what I was thinking. "Stringent."

"Proper decontamination procedures are vital for research," the leader explained. "Many bacteria live in our soil and air. While harmless, these extra variables can alter the results of experiments and render years of research useless."

The scientists marched into the next room and I followed. I found the whiteness of each wall almost blinding. The floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in a white, smooth material, yet my shoes seemed to grip the floor without slipping. I reached out and touched a wall. It felt like melamine resin, as if the entire place was one large wipe-clean cutting board.

"It is easy to clean," the leader explained. I nodded. I had to respect their cleanliness. Whatever they were, Valerians were certainly not sloppy. I knew Earth could use some of their discipline. Many studies had been derailed at the Foundation because of contaminated samples. Efforts to add decontamination procedures had mostly been met with protest from scientists eager to preserve their freedom above their research. No such thing was likely to happen at the Science Building.

I looked up and noticed that we were in a corridor, and that the other scientists had disappeared. Doors lined each side of the passage, and I assumed they had each checked into their labs. I didn't know why, but I missed the man who had smiled at me. I didn't want to be left alone with the head scientist, or, as I was quickly realizing, my babysitter. I was pretty certain right then that no government agent or official had come to greet me, just members of the science team. As I looked around me, I realized why. Small cameras were set into every wall, following our movements. They didn't have to greet me. They could see everything I was doing. I tried to ignore the presence of the cameras, even as I could sense their eyes on me, but it was hard, knowing that some people I had never met were keeping tabs on not only me, but all Valerians. I had heard of surveillance societies; Earth had some in its very own history books. But to experience one first-hand was unnerving, to say the least.

The head scientist stepped forward and pressed a button on the wall. The plastic slid back to reveal windows on either side of the corridor. I could look in and see the scientists at work. I looked for the man who had smiled at me, and saw him in the room labeled "Soil Research". He was busy at work in a way I'd never seen. He only had to wave his hand over the sample for a zoomed-in, holographic version of the image to appear before him. He could highlight sections of it and turn them in mid-air. It made my old microscope at the Foundation seem like a fossil.

"Impressive," I said. "How do you do that?"

"We have three A.I.s who run this city and tend to all our needs," the head scientist explained. "They take care of every demand the scientists make. They are even capable of running research models, debating theories, and spotting mistakes. Everything the scientists do is triple-checked by the Sisters."

"The Sisters?"

"That is what they are called. Their A.I. is ancient and poorly understood now; a product of our enlightened ancestors, but they have watched over this city for thousands of years."

"Like a parent who lives forever," I mused out loud, not really checking my words that much at that point. Later on, I would filter every word that came out of my mouth with caution, but at that point, I was careless.

"Nothing lives forever," the head scientist said, with an air of disapproval in her tone. "Such nonsense is unscientific, off-worlder."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend."

"Offend? No. Such talk is simply foolishness. A waste of thought."

"As you say," I said. I realized that musing was wasted on this stone-cold ice queen of science. If I had thought that I was a robot, I was flesh and blood compared to the Valerians I had met. I made a mental note not to bother with their literature, if they had any. I imagined it would be lists of facts, recited with the monotone of a textbook psychopath.

*~*~*

We spent much of the day touring the facility, watching, but never entering, every laboratory in the building. I was exhausted by the time the Ice Queen closed the last window.

"That concludes today's orientation. I will now take you to your quarters." The Ice Queen pressed a button at the end of a corridor, and the wall slid back to reveal elevator doors. I followed the head scientist in and stood silently as she pressed a button.