Elites of Eden

  I feel a weird combination of panic and peace. Panic, because this is one more very powerful thing that confirms everything Lark told me is absolutely true. Peace, because I feel like I’ve found my other half, a half I didn’t even know was missing.

  I stare at him, devouring every detail with my eyes. I want to touch his face, hear his voice, his laughter.

  But what I want more than anything is to remember him.

  Everything else, I’m ambivalent about. I feel like my life, the one I know, is my own, like I’ll be giving something up when I rediscover who I really am. I’m still going to do it—I need to—but it scares me. Finding Ash doesn’t feel complicated at all. He belongs to me. I need to recover every single detail about my brother. And if I can’t for some reason, I’ll re-learn it. Just seeing him floods me with a sense of connection, of belonging. I won’t ever let that go.

  I realize all of a sudden that I’m just staring at him speechlessly. But then, he’s doing it, too, for reasons of his own.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” he says, and his trembling, emotional voice is better than birdsong. His voice is beautiful. It is home. “I thought you were dead for the longest time. And then . . . I thought you were lost to me.”

  We stand a few feet apart, like we’re frozen. Like we still can’t quite believe this is real.

  “I missed you,” I say. “I didn’t even know I missed you. But as soon as I saw you I knew it.”

  Then suddenly I fly into his arms. As soon as we hug, I know everything about him. Not events, history. But the sound of his breathing, the smell of his skin, warm and soapy. I know the texture of his hair when it presses against my cheek as I hug him.

  I never want to let him go.

  “Same old Rowan,” he says, holding me at arm’s length and looking at me with such kindness, such . . . I realize now what it is. Brotherly affection! How many people on Earth can say that they understand the love one sibling can have for another? Except for these second children, no one has a brother or sister. And most of these people hidden here didn’t get to grow up with their sibling. They were shameful, dangerous secrets, hidden away, sold, or banished.

  I’m crying openly now, with utter joy. I want to know everything. “Are we alike? Do you love bubble tea? Is your favorite subject Civics?”

  I want him to gush, but a fine line creases the space between his eyebrows. “You hate bubble tea,” he says. “So do I. And you always said studying Civics was a waste of time after you learned the basics.”

  I’m disappointed. “Oh.” I love bubble tea. I thought I loved bubble tea. But if Rowan didn’t, how can I?

  “It’s okay,” he says, and I think he’s desperate to keep the mood joyous. “Are you still painting?”

  I’m confused. “Painting? I’ve never picked up a brush in . . .”

  Before I can get upset at the disparity between my old life and my new one, he grabs my hands, flashes a grin I recognize as exactly my own, and says teasingly, “Rowan, don’t be ashamed at what happened to you! It isn’t your fault.”

  I’m still crying, but there’s sorrow as well as joy in my tears now. I’m crying for what I’ve lost . . . and what I’ve gained. “But I want to remember you—and myself. I want to so badly, and I just can’t! I can’t even remember Mom. Lark told me that she’s dead, but in my head there’s another woman who’s my mother. I feel like I’m going crazy!” I start to turn away, but he pulls me into a tight, reassuring brotherly embrace. “I’m so sorry, Ash.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We’re together again. That’s the most important thing. Once Flame gets here, she’ll be able to examine you and see if she can reverse whatever they did to you at the Center. With any luck—and Flame’s almost supernatural skills—you might be able to get all of your memories back.”

  Lark has slipped away a small distance, watching our reunion with sympathy, giving us a little time alone to reconnect. She joins us again. “You remembered Ash’s name. That’s a great start, and a good sign, I think. It’s all in there.” She taps the side of her head. “Just waiting to be unlocked.”

  “But for now,” Ash says, “let’s show you around. See if it sparks any more memories.” Ash takes my arm, and Lark grabs the other, and we walk out of the antechamber where we first entered, onto a balcony.

  I had been vaguely aware that we were up high (well, up high while underground) and that there was some sort of decorative foliage in the distance. There are fake trees everywhere in Eden. So when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the tree, I didn’t think much of it. Ash was the center of my attention.

  Now they lead me to the balcony, an overhanging shelf high above a vast open chamber that is ringed with multiple layers of walkways and stairs.

  I look around me, and gasp.

  The cavern is vast, maybe as big as the entire Oaks campus. Below are people chatting and walking, little tents in gaudy colors with flags advertising their wares—clothes, shoes, candy—like a fair. I see a long row of tables lined up, and people are laying out food—a feast! Some pretty amazing aromas are wafting all the way up to my high vantage point, including some I don’t recognize.

  But above, oh, the ceiling of the hall looks like a huge multicolored, faceted jewel. The arch of stone above our heads is ablaze with crystals in every possible shade of purple and pink and gold and ice-clear. It sparkles with simulated moonlight. It’s so beautiful I feel a surge of happiness and hope. How can it be that such loveliness exists, unknown and unseen, so far below Eden? Eden is supposed to be a paradise, but already this feels more like the promised land.

  And then, I see the tree.

  Really see it.

  It’s huge, impossible to miss, but between the interesting people below and the vivid crystals above I glance over at it. Another artificial tree, so what?

  But now, standing between Lark and Ash, looking down on a deep green canopy that arches more than a hundred feet across, my knees start to shake. The smell of something rich and deep and vital hits me, and suddenly I know. I realize that there is no comparison between that and even the most realistic artificial tree. Those are sculptures and photosynthesis machines—attractive, but cold and dead.

  How is it possible that there’s a tree in Eden? All major life forms, animals and plants, have been dead for generations. Only humans, and a handful of algae, lichens, and fungi, survive. Yet here is a tree, huge and magnificent, growing belowground of all places.

  “Can I touch it?” I ask, yearning to do so, but thinking it might be somehow sacrilegious.

  “Of course,” Ash says. “It belongs to all of us.”

  Without another word or thought I break free from them and dash down the steps, ignoring the stares of the few people I pass, unresponsive to their surprised greetings. The tree stirs something in me that will not be denied.

  I break into a full run as soon as I hit the bottom. I’ve sprinted halfway across the cavern before I realize what I’m running on. The ground is soft and yielding beneath my feet. Dirt? It can’t be! The soil is poisoned and sterile.

  I skid to a stop and fall to my knees. The dirt is packed hard from so many footsteps, but I dig my fingers in and pull up twin handfuls. I feel the grains beneath my fingernails, and pull both handfuls to my face, breathing in the rich, musty, fertile scent. The entire chamber floor is dirt. And it must be deep, for the tree’s roots to bury themselves in. I remember that tiny little bowl of earth they kept in the inner sanctum of the Temple. How paltry that little specimen seems now! What a mockery of what the Earth was, and what it should be.

  But this! This is real. I stand, and my fingers open to let the dirt slide back to rejoin the rest. Slowly at first, then with quickening steps, I approach the tree. Soon I’m walking on leaves, dried to a pale brown, and as they crunch under my feet an intoxicating smell rises. It is the same sharp scent that faintly permeates all t
he air down here—a strange cooking smell, I thought at first. Now I realize the sharp, cool, minty smell is coming from the tree.

  How many years has this tree been here, shedding leaves into this rich soil so that they rot and become part of the soil themselves, the tree making its own nourishment? The tree is massive, its rough, gnarled trunk stretching so wide it would take a dozen people joining hands to encircle it.

  “How is it possible?” I ask aloud. I’m asking myself, the world. I didn’t even hear Ash and Lark come up behind me.

  “Aaron Al-Baz, of course,” Lark says.

  I shiver, and feel a strange prickling along my spine. From the awe I’m feeling. From gratitude for the man who saved us all. It must be that.

  “He made this place as a fail-safe,” Ash says, “in case Eden wasn’t ready in time, or if conditions were even harsher than he anticipated. He pumped in real soil before the Ecofail, and planted this camphor tree. It has environmental controls completely separate from the EcoPan and the rest of Eden. That’s why the Center has never found us.”

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Lark asks. “There’s an artificial solar and lunar cycle built into the cavern roof, and water pumped from a deep isolated reservoir, filtered air . . . The entire place is almost self-contained. We—or they, because I’m just a guest—still have to go to the surface for food and materials. But we have a huge store of food and weapons now, and could hold out for months, easily, in an emergency.”

  I’m taking in their words, but all of my attention is on the tree. It is like I’m looking at one of the old dead gods people used to believe in, suddenly brought back to life. It is a giant, a benevolent monster towering over its tiny worshipers.

  I feel an urge almost like the one I felt when I first saw Ash. A desperate need to connect. Before I know what I’m doing I’m hugging the tree as if it was another long-lost brother. I hear good-natured laughter behind me, but I don’t care. I feel the bark on my skin, rough and vital, so much more real than anything else in my life. This is what we’re all missing. This is why our lives, no matter how glorious they seem, have an empty pit at their core. To connect with another living thing—how marvelous it is.

  Elated, I turn, with my back still pressed to the tree, unwilling to sever contact yet as I look across the cavern at my friend, my brother, at the dozens of people living a life so different from the one aboveground. I’ve been here less than half an hour, and yet already I feel more at home than I ever did at Oaks.

  “Come on,” Ash says, looping his arm across my shoulders. “The tree has been here for more than two hundred years. It will be here a little while longer whenever you want to visit. Before long, you’ll almost forget that it is here.”

  “Never!” I swear, but let him lead me to the other second children, who are about to sit down to their communal supper.

  It is a night such as I’ve never known. As one of the most popular, powerful people in Oaks I was always surrounded by friends. Or people I called my friends, anyway. And yet, never for one moment did I feel as accepted and welcomed as I do tonight. It’s not even because we were all such close friends back when I was Rowan. From what Lark tells me, I’ve met most of these people but haven’t spent a lot of time with them. At first I think it is because, despite my flat eyes, I’m a second child like them.

  But as the night goes on, and the lights embedded in the crystalline roof sprout artificial stars, I realize that these people in the Underground are just fundamentally different than the first children of Eden proper.

  Up there, everyone is separate. We come together, have friends, do things with each other, but somehow it feels like each person is in their own bubble. The bubbles bounce into each other all the time, but they never pop.

  Down here, the bubble is around everyone. They’re part of a community where each person is inextricably bonded to every other person around them.

  As I look around at the happy people in their loose, flowing garments, their free-flowing hair, each with a piece of crystal at their neck or wrist, I have an epiphany: this is an ecosystem. The tribe, the tree, the dirt, the shared secrets and common danger. Maybe people weren’t meant to live underground with only one tree and filtered air. Yet this is so much closer to what humans were meant to be.

  We profess to worship nature and the lost environment, and yet up on the surface, every single action we take is in defiance of nature. Only down here are people really striving to live as our species should.

  It breaks my heart that it is incomplete, that they can’t have a forest of trees, real fruit, limitless expanse to run and dance and play.

  It makes my heart sing to think that I am now a part of it all.

  It is less hectic and loud than the raving parties I usually go to, but it makes me happier. I stick close to Ash—I never want to let him out of my sight—and Lark, but people keep coming up to me and talking about small, unimportant things that I somehow find delightful. I think Lark must have coached them not to expect too much of me. I can see the questions behind their pleasant chitchat, and I’m glad they’re too polite to ask me the things they’re really curious about.

  When I yawn three times in a row, Iris spots it from the far side of the table and beckons me away. “She’s back to stay,” she tells the nearest. “You have plenty of time to get reacquainted. It’s time this tired girl went to bed.”

  I hadn’t really thought about that yet. I’d assumed that Lark and I would be going back to Oaks tonight. But when Iris, Ash, and Lark escort me to a room, I realize I don’t ever want to leave.

  Iris pushes open the door, and I step into a room without corners. It isn’t exactly round, but close. The walls are stone, carved caves, and the craftsman left the walls smooth but a little uneven so that it looks almost like a natural formation. There’s a bed with green sheets, and a bathing alcove. On the bed sits an unzipped backpack. A ragged stuffed animal lounges on the pillow.

  “Oh!” I cry, and scoop it up, hugging the little chimpanzee to my cheek. I turn to find that Ash has tears in his eyes.

  “Do you remember him?” he asks hopefully. “Benjamin Bananas?”

  I look at the chimp’s sweet little furry face, and there’s no recognition. But when I cuddle him to my neck again, I feel inexplicably comforted.

  “He was your favorite when you were little,” Ash adds, and I nod. I don’t say it, but I know I’ll sleep with Benjamin Bananas tonight.

  “We’ll leave you for tonight, my dear,” Iris says, giving me a quick hug.

  “Will you be okay alone?” Ash asks. “I could stay. But I’m just next door if you need me.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. I kind of need to be alone for a while, to let all the mingled confusion and joy settle into my heart and mind and body.

  They leave, and for a moment I feel achingly lonely and almost call them back. But I know they’re just outside. All of them. My friends, my blood family. And my second children family.

  I think I’ll lie awake for hours pondering everything, but as soon as my head hits the pillow I feel my tired consciousness start to drift away. My last thought is: where was Lachlan? Why didn’t he come to see me?

  His absence hurts, and I’m not sure why.

  I have an idea, though.

  THERE’S A STRANGE moment right when you wake up, or maybe right before you wake up. Just on the edge of conscious thought, everything can be so simple. This morning, I wake up happy. That’s it, nothing else, just happy. I’m not immediately thinking of any reason for my bliss, not counting on any person or event to supply it. I’m not thinking about who I am. I could be a girl or a molecule. All I know is I’m a happy one.

  I lie there in my comfortable bed, the cool sheets soft on my body, letting that simple sensation fill me. I know it won’t last, and I need to enjoy it while it does. In fact, the realization that it is finite is probably what breaks the spe
ll. All too quickly the reality of my life rushes in.

  Here’s the funny thing: I’m still happy.

  I should be frantic with worry, confused, afraid. Oaks must have reported me missing by now. Center officials are certainly searching for me. Not to mention my own personal extreme identity crisis. But all I can think of as I lie in bed is the positive. Ash. Lark. The tree. The welcoming village of second children.

  Lachlan, somewhere . . .

  As I shake that thought aside, I hear a knock on my door. “Come in!” I call.

  Lark pushes the lockless door open and bounds onto my bed. Her lilac hair is mussed and her face is shiny. She looks absolutely beautiful.

  “I waited as long as I could! Did I wake you up? Did you sleep well?”

  I laugh. “No, and yes! I slept better than I have in . . . well, six months, at least. As long as I’ve been Yarrow. What’s going on?”

  “Everyone’s gathering for breakfast, but it’s informal. A big table, you grab what you like. You won’t be on a service rotation yet, but eventually you’ll take your turn cooking, serving, cleaning. Although, really, you’ve already helped the Underground so much just by being alive! By coming back! Every second child we save is a strike against the Center and their policies. And maybe, depending on how much you remember, you can do even more for us. For all of Eden.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been in the Center, in places none of us has ever accessed. You’ve probably seen things, heard things, that they never thought you’d be able to remember. Secrets. If Flame can unlock your memories of Rowan, she can probably retrieve all of your memories. You’ll know what they did to you. More important, you’ll know why they did it.”

  “You know, I haven’t even really thought about that part yet.” I’ve been too fixated on the what to worry about the why. “I thought it must just be to punish me for being a second child.”

  “Then why not kill you?” she asks, and I shudder. “Or imprison you for life? Or, if they just wanted to add another person to the population, slip you in without anyone noticing? Why go to all that trouble to send you to the best school in Eden? Make you rich, popular? The daughter of the bikking chief of intelligence!”